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+The Project Gutenberg EBook of Checkmate, by Joseph Sheridan Le Fanu
+
+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: Checkmate
+
+Author: Joseph Sheridan Le Fanu
+
+Release Date: January 1, 2012 [EBook #38460]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: UTF-8
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK CHECKMATE ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Suzanne Shell, Jana Srna and the Online
+Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This
+file was produced from images generously made available
+by The Internet Archive/Canadian Libraries)
+
+
+
+
+
+
+  [ Transcriber's Notes:
+
+    Every effort has been made to replicate this text as faithfully
+    as possible, including inconsistencies in spelling and hyphenation.
+    Some corrections of spelling and punctuation have been made. They
+    are listed at the end of the text.
+
+    Italic text has been marked with _underscores_.
+  ]
+
+
+
+
+CHECKMATE
+
+
+
+
+BY THE SAME AUTHOR
+
+
+  GUY DEVERELL
+  ALL IN THE DARK
+  THE WYVERN MYSTERY
+  THE COCK AND ANCHOR
+  WYLDER'S HAND
+  THE WATCHER
+  CHECKMATE
+  ROSE AND THE KEY
+  TENANTS OF MALLORY
+  WILLING TO DIE
+  GOLDEN FRIARS
+  THE EVIL GUEST
+
+
+
+
+  Checkmate
+
+  BY
+  J. S. LE FANU
+
+  Downey & Co.
+  12 York St.
+  Covent Garden.
+
+
+
+
+CONTENTS.
+
+
+   CHAPTER                                                   PAGE
+
+        I. MORTLAKE HALL,                                       1
+
+       II. MARTHA TANSEY,                                       7
+
+      III. MR. LONGCLUSE OPENS HIS HEART,                      13
+
+       IV. MONSIEUR LEBAS,                                     17
+
+        V. A CATASTROPHE,                                      22
+
+       VI. TO BED,                                             26
+
+      VII. FAST FRIENDS,                                       31
+
+     VIII. CONCERNING A BOOT,                                  38
+
+       IX. THE MAN WITHOUT A NAME,                             43
+
+        X. THE ROYAL OAK,                                      48
+
+       XI. THE TELEGRAM ARRIVES,                               55
+
+      XII. SIR REGINALD ARDEN,                                 62
+
+     XIII. ON THE ROAD,                                        68
+
+      XIV. MR. LONGCLUSE'S BOOT FINDS A TEMPORARY ASYLUM,      72
+
+       XV. FATHER AND SON,                                     79
+
+      XVI. A MIDNIGHT MEETING,                                 84
+
+     XVII. MR. LONGCLUSE AT MORTLAKE HALL,                     91
+
+    XVIII. THE PARTY IN THE DINING-ROOM,                       96
+
+      XIX. IN MRS. TANSEY'S ROOM,                             103
+
+       XX. MRS. TANSEY'S STORY,                               108
+
+      XXI. A WALK BY MOONLIGHT,                               115
+
+     XXII. MR. LONGCLUSE MAKES AN ODD CONFIDENCE,             120
+
+    XXIII. THE MEETING,                                       125
+
+     XXIV. MR. LONGCLUSE FOLLOWS A SHADOW,                    129
+
+      XXV. A TETE-A-TETE,                                     133
+
+     XXVI. THE GARDEN AT MORTLAKE,                            137
+
+    XXVII. WINGED WORDS,                                      141
+
+   XXVIII. STORIES ABOUT MR. LONGCLUSE,                       147
+
+     XXIX. THE GARDEN PARTY,                                  153
+
+      XXX. HE SEES HER,                                       158
+
+     XXXI. ABOUT THE GROUNDS,                                 161
+
+    XXXII. UNDER THE LIME-TREES,                              167
+
+   XXXIII. THE DERBY,                                         171
+
+    XXXIV. A SHARP COLLOQUY,                                  174
+
+     XXXV. DINNER AT MORTLAKE,                                179
+
+    XXXVI. MR. LONGCLUSE SEES A LADY'S NOTE,                  183
+
+   XXXVII. WHAT ALICE COULD SAY,                              188
+
+  XXXVIII. GENTLEMEN IN TROUBLE,                              192
+
+    XXXIX. BETWEEN FRIENDS,                                   196
+
+       XL. AN INTERVIEW IN THE STUDY,                         199
+
+      XLI. VAN APPOINTS HIMSELF TO A DIPLOMATIC POST,         203
+
+     XLII. DIPLOMACY,                                         206
+
+    XLIII. A LETTER AND A SUMMONS,                            209
+
+     XLIV. THE REASON OF ALICE'S NOTE,                        213
+
+      XLV. COLLISION,                                         219
+
+     XLVI. AN UNKNOWN FRIEND,                                 224
+
+    XLVII. BY THE RIVER,                                      229
+
+   XLVIII. SUDDEN NEWS,                                       232
+
+     XLIX. VOWS FOR THE FUTURE,                               236
+
+        L. UNCLE DAVID'S SUSPICIONS,                          239
+
+       LI. THE SILHOUETTE,                                    244
+
+      LII. MR. LONGCLUSE EMPLOYED,                            248
+
+     LIII. THE NIGHT OF THE FUNERAL,                          252
+
+      LIV. AMONG THE TREES,                                   258
+
+       LV. MR. LONGCLUSE SEES A FRIEND,                       262
+
+      LVI. A HOPE EXPIRES,                                    266
+
+     LVII. LEVI'S APOLOGUE,                                   272
+
+    LVIII. THE BARON COMES TO TOWN,                           276
+
+      LIX. TWO OLD FRIENDS MEET AND PART,                     281
+
+       LX. "SAUL,"                                            286
+
+      LXI. A WAKING DREAM,                                    290
+
+     LXII. LOVE AND PLAY,                                     295
+
+    LXIII. PLANS,                                             300
+
+     LXIV. FROM FLOWER TO FLOWER,                             304
+
+      LXV. BEHIND THE ARRAS,                                  311
+
+     LXVI. A BUBBLE BROKEN,                                   313
+
+    LXVII. BOND AND DEED,                                     317
+
+   LXVIII. SIR RICHARD'S RESOLUTION,                          322
+
+     LXIX. THE MEETING,                                       326
+
+      LXX. MR. LONGCLUSE PROPOSES,                            329
+
+     LXXI. NIGHT,                                             332
+
+    LXXII. MEASURES,                                          336
+
+   LXXIII. AT THE BAR OF THE "GUY OF WARWICK,"                341
+
+    LXXIV. A LETTER,                                          346
+
+     LXXV. BLIGHT AND CHANGE,                                 351
+
+    LXXVI. PHÅ’BE CHIFFINCH,                                   356
+
+   LXXVII. MORE NEWS OF PAUL DAVIES,                          360
+
+  LXXVIII. THE CATACOMBS,                                     364
+
+    LXXIX. RESURRECTIONS,                                     371
+
+     LXXX. ANOTHER,                                           376
+
+    LXXXI. BROKEN,                                            379
+
+   LXXXII. DOPPELGANGER,                                      384
+
+  LXXXIII. A SHORT PARTING,                                   388
+
+   LXXXIV. AT MORTLAKE,                                       393
+
+    LXXXV. THE CRISIS,                                        399
+
+   LXXXVI. PURSUIT,                                           406
+
+  LXXXVII. CONCLUSION,                                        412
+
+
+
+
+CHECKMATE.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER I.
+
+MORTLAKE HALL.
+
+
+There stands about a mile and a half beyond Islington, unless it has
+come down within the last two years, a singular and grand old house. It
+belonged to the family of Arden, once distinguished in the Northumbrian
+counties. About fifty acres of ground, rich with noble clumps and masses
+of old timber, surround it; old-world fish-ponds, with swans sailing
+upon them, tall yew hedges, quincunxes, leaden fauns and goddesses, and
+other obsolete splendours surround it. It rises, tall, florid, built of
+Caen stone, with a palatial flight of steps, and something of the grace
+and dignity of the genius of Inigo Jones, to whom it is ascribed, with
+the shadows of ancestral trees and the stains of two centuries upon it,
+and a vague character of gloom and melancholy, not improved by some
+indications not actually of decay, but of something too like neglect.
+
+It is now evening, and a dusky glow envelopes the scene. The setting sun
+throws its level beams, through tall drawing-room windows, ruddily upon
+the Dutch tapestry on the opposite walls, and not unbecomingly lights up
+the little party assembled there.
+
+Good-natured, fat Lady May Penrose, in her bonnet, sips her tea and
+chats agreeably. Her carriage waits outside. You will ask who is that
+extremely beautiful girl who sits opposite, her large soft grey eyes
+gazing towards the western sky with a look of abstraction, too forgetful
+for a time of her company, leaning upon the slender hand she has placed
+under her cheek. How silken and golden-tinted the dark brown hair that
+grows so near her brows, making her forehead low, and marking with its
+broad line the beautiful oval of her face! Is there carmine anywhere to
+match her brilliant lips? And when, recollecting something to tell Lady
+May, she turns on a sudden, smiling, how soft and pretty the dimples,
+and how even the little row of pearls she discloses!
+
+This is Alice Arden, whose singularly handsome brother Richard, with
+some of her tints and outlines translated into masculine beauty, stands
+leaning on the back of a prie-dieu chair, and chatting gaily.
+
+But who is the thin, tall man--the only sinister figure in the
+group--with one hand in his breast, the other on a cabinet, as he leans
+against the wall? Who is that pale, thin-lipped man, "with cadaverous
+aspect and broken beak," whose eyes never seem to light up, but maintain
+their dismal darkness while his pale lips smile? Those eyes are fixed on
+the pretty face of Alice Arden, as she talks to Lady May, with a
+strangely intense gaze. His eyebrows rise a little, like those of
+Mephistopheles, towards his temples, with an expression that is
+inflexibly sarcastic, and sometimes menacing. His jaw is slightly
+underhung, a formation which heightens the satirical effect of his
+smile, and, by contrast, marks the depression of his nose.
+
+There was at this time in London a Mr. Longcluse, an agreeable man, a
+convenient man, who had got a sort of footing in many houses, nobody
+exactly knew how. He had a knack of obliging people when they really
+wanted a trifling kindness, and another of holding fast his advantage,
+and, without seeming to push, or ever appearing to flatter, of
+maintaining the acquaintance he had once founded. He looked about
+eight-and-thirty: he was really older. He was gentlemanlike, clever, and
+rich; but not a soul of all the men who knew him had ever heard of him
+at school or college. About his birth, parentage, and education, about
+his "life and adventures," he was dark.
+
+How were his smart acquaintance made? Oddly, as we shall learn when we
+know him a little better. It was a great pity that there were some odd
+things said about this very agreeable, obliging, and gentlemanlike
+person. It was a pity that more was not known about him. The man had
+enemies, no doubt, and from the sort of reserve that enveloped him their
+opportunity arose. But were there not about town hundreds of men, well
+enough accepted, about whose early days no one cared a pin, and
+everything was just as dark?
+
+Now Mr. Longcluse, with his pallid face, his flat nose, his sarcastic
+eyebrows, and thin-lipped smile, was overlooking this little company,
+his shoulder leaning against the frame that separated two pieces of the
+pretty Dutch tapestry which covered the walls.
+
+"By-the-bye, Mr. Longcluse--you can tell me, for you always know
+everything," said Lady May--"is there still any hope of that poor
+child's recovering--I mean the one in that dreadful murder in Thames
+Street, where the six poor little children were stabbed?"
+
+Mr. Longcluse smiled.
+
+"I'm so glad, Lady May, I can answer you upon good authority! I stopped
+to-day to ask Sir Edwin Dudley that very question through his carriage
+window, and he said that he had just been to the hospital to see the
+poor little thing, and that it was likely to do well."
+
+"I'm so glad! And what do they say can have been the motive of the
+murder?"
+
+"Jealousy, they say; or else the man is mad."
+
+"I should not wonder. I'm sure I hope he is. But they should take care
+to put him under lock and key."
+
+"So they will, rely on it; that's a matter of course."
+
+"I don't know how it is," continued Lady May, who was garrulous, "that
+murders interest people so much, who ought to be simply shocked at
+them."
+
+"We have a murder in our family, you know," said Richard Arden.
+
+"That was poor Henry Arden--I know," she answered, lowering her voice
+and dropping her eyes, with a side glance at Alice, for she did not know
+how she might like to hear it talked of.
+
+"Oh, that happened when Alice was only five months old, I think," said
+Richard; and slipping into the chair beside Lady May, he laid his hand
+upon hers with a smile, and whispered, leaning towards her--
+
+"You are always so thoughtful; it is _so_ nice of you!"
+
+And this short speech ended, his eyes remained fixed for some seconds,
+with a glow of tender admiration, on those of fat Lady May, who simpered
+with effusion, and did not draw her hand away until she thought she saw
+Mr. Longcluse glance their way.
+
+It was quite true, all he said of Lady May. It would not be easy to find
+a simpler or more good-natured person. She was very rich also, and, it
+was said by people who love news and satire, had long been willing to
+share her gold and other chattels with handsome Richard Arden, who being
+but five-and-twenty, might very nearly have been her son.
+
+"I remember that horrible affair," said Mr. Longcluse, with a little
+shrug and a shake of his head. "Where was I then--Paris or Vienna? Paris
+it was. I recollect it all now, for my purse was stolen by the very man
+who made his escape--Mace was his name; he was a sort of low man on the
+turf, I believe. I was very young then--somewhere about seventeen, I
+think."
+
+"You can't have been more, of course," said good-natured Lady May.
+
+"I should like very much some time to hear all about it," continued Mr.
+Longcluse.
+
+"So you shall," said Richard, "whenever you like."
+
+"Every old family has a murder, and a ghost, and a beauty also, though
+she does not always live and breathe, except in the canvas of Lely, or
+Kneller, or Reynolds: and they, you know, had roses and lilies to give
+away at discretion, in their paint-boxes, and were courtiers," remarked
+Mr. Longcluse, "who dealt sometimes in the old-fashioned business of
+making compliments. _I_ say happy the man who lives in those summers
+when the loveliness of some beautiful family culminates, and who may, at
+ever such a distance, gaze and worship."
+
+This ugly man spoke in a low tone, and his voice was rather sweet. He
+looked as he spoke at Miss Arden, from whom, indeed, his eyes did not
+often wander.
+
+"Very prettily said!" applauded Lady May affably.
+
+"I forgot to ask you, Lady May," inquired Alice, cruelly, at this
+moment, "how the pretty little Italian greyhound is that was so
+ill--better, I hope."
+
+"Ever so much--quite well almost. I'd have taken him out for a drive
+to-day, poor dear little Pepsie! but that I thought the sun just a
+little overpowering. Didn't you?"
+
+"Perhaps a little."
+
+Mr. Longcluse lowered his eyes as he leaned against the wall and sighed,
+with a pained smile, that even upon his plain, pallid face, was
+pathetic.
+
+Did proud Richard Arden perceive the devotion of the dubious
+Longcluse--undefined in position, in history, in origin, in character,
+in all things but in wealth? Of course he did, perfectly. But that
+wealth was said to be enormous. There were Jews, who ought to know, who
+said he was worth one million eight hundred thousand pounds, and that
+his annual income was considerably more than a hundred thousand pounds a
+year.
+
+Was a man like that to be dismissed without inquiry? Had he not found
+him good-natured and gentlemanlike? What about those stories circulated
+among Jews and croupiers? Enemies might affect to believe them, and
+quote the old saw, "There is never smoke without fire;" but dare one of
+them utter a word of the kind aloud? Did they stand the test of five
+minutes' inquiry, such even as he had given them? Had he found a
+particle of proof, of evidence, of suspicion? Not a spark. What man had
+ever escaped stories who was worth forging a lie about?
+
+Here was a man worth more than a million. Why, if _he_ let him slip
+through his fingers, some duchess would pounce on him for her daughter.
+
+It was well that Longcluse was really in love--well, perhaps, that he
+did not appreciate the social omnipotence of money.
+
+"Where is Sir Reginald at present?" asked Lady May.
+
+"Not here, you may be sure," answered Richard. "My father does not admit
+my visits, you know."
+
+"Really! And is that miserable quarrel kept up still?"
+
+"Only too true. He is in France at present; at Vichy--ain't it Vichy?"
+he said to Alice.
+
+But she, not choosing to talk, said simply, "Yes--Vichy."
+
+"I'm going to take Alice into town again; she has promised to stay with
+me a little longer. And I think you neglect her a little, don't you? You
+ought to come and see her a little oftener," pleaded Lady May, in an
+undertone.
+
+"I only feared I was boring you all. Nothing, _you_ know, would give me
+half so much pleasure," he answered.
+
+"Well, then, she'll expect your visits, mind."
+
+A little silence followed. Richard was vexed with his sister; she was,
+he thought, snubbing his friend Longcluse.
+
+Well, when once he had spoken his mind and disclosed his treasures,
+Richard flattered himself he had some influence; and did not Lady May
+swear by Mr. Longcluse? And was his father, the most despotic and
+violent of baronets, and very much dipt, likely to listen to sentimental
+twaddle pleading against a hundred thousand a year? So, Miss Alice, if
+you were disposed to talk nonsense, it was not very likely to be
+listened to, and sharp and short logic might ensue.
+
+How utterly unconscious of all this she sits there, thinking, I daresay,
+of quite another person!
+
+Mr. Longcluse was also for a moment in profound reverie; so was Richard
+Arden. The secrecy of thought is a pleasant privilege to the
+thinker--perhaps hardly less a boon to the person pondered upon.
+
+If each man's forehead could project its shadows and the light of his
+spirit shine through, and the confluence of figures and phantoms that
+cross and march behind it become visible, how that magic-lantern might
+appal good easy people!
+
+And now the ladies fell to talking and comparing notes about their
+guipure lacework.
+
+"How charming yours looks, my dear, round that little table!" exclaimed
+Lady May in a rapture. "I'm sure I hope mine may turn out half as
+pretty. I wanted to compare; I'm not quite sure whether it is exactly
+the same pattern."
+
+And so on, until it was time for them to order their wings for town.
+
+The gentlemen have business of their own to transact, or pleasures to
+pursue. Mr. Longcluse has his trap there, to carry them into town when
+their hour comes. They can only put the ladies into their places, and
+bid them good-bye, and exchange parting reminders and good-natured
+speeches.
+
+Pale Mr. Longcluse, as he stands on the steps, looks with his dark eyes
+after the disappearing carriage, and sighs deeply. He has forgotten all
+for the moment but one dream. Richard Arden wakens him, by laying his
+hand on his shoulder.
+
+"Come, Longcluse, let us have a cigar in the billiard-room, and a talk.
+I have a box of Manillas that I think you will say are delicious--that
+is, if you like them full-flavoured."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER II.
+
+MARTHA TANSEY.
+
+
+"By-the-bye, Longcluse," said Richard, as they entered together the long
+tiled passage that leads to the billiard-room, "you like pictures. There
+is one here, banished to the housekeeper's room, that they say is a
+Vandyck; we must have it cleaned and backed, and restored to its old
+place--but would you care to look at it?"
+
+"Certainly, I should like extremely," said Mr. Longcluse.
+
+They were now at the door of the housekeeper's room, and Richard Arden
+knocked.
+
+"Come in," said the quavering voice of the old woman from within.
+
+Richard Arden opened the door wide. The misty rose-coloured light of the
+setting sun filled the room. From the wall right opposite, the pale
+portrait of Sir Thomas Arden, who fought for the king during the great
+Civil War, looked forth from his deep dingy frame full upon them, stern
+and melancholy; the misty beams touching the softer lights of his long
+hair and the gleam of his armour so happily, that the figure came out
+from its dark background, and seemed ready to step forth to meet them.
+As it happened, there was no one in the room but old Mrs. Tansey, the
+housekeeper, who received Richard Arden standing.
+
+From the threshold, Mr. Longcluse, lost in wonder at the noble picture,
+gazed on it, with the exclamation, almost a cry, "Good heaven! what a
+noble work! I had no idea there could be such a thing in existence and
+so little known." And he stood for awhile in a rapture, gazing from the
+threshold on the portrait.
+
+At sound of that voice, with a vague and terrible recognition, the
+housekeeper turned with a start towards the door, expecting, you'd have
+fancied from her face, the entrance of a ghost. There was a tremble in
+the voice with which she cried, "Lord! what's that?" a tremble in the
+hand extended towards the door, and a shake also in the pale frowning
+face, from which shone her glassy eyes.
+
+Mr. Longcluse stepped in, and the old woman's gaze became, as he did so,
+more shrinking and intense. When he saw her he recoiled, as a man might
+who had all but trod upon a snake; and these two people gazed at one
+another with a strange, uncertain scowl.
+
+In Mr. Longcluse's case, this dismal caprice of countenance did not last
+beyond a second or two. Richard Arden, as he turned his eyes from the
+picture to say a word to his companion, saw it for a moment, and it
+faded from his features--saw it, and the darkened countenance of the old
+housekeeper, with a momentary shock. He glanced from one to the other
+quickly, with a look of unconscious surprise. That look instantly
+recalled Mr. Longcluse, who, laying his hand on Richard Arden's arm,
+said, with a laugh--"I do believe I'm the most nervous man in the
+world."
+
+"You don't find the room too hot?" said Richard, inwardly ruminating
+upon the strange looks he had just seen exchanged. "Mrs. Tansey keeps a
+fire all the year round--don't you, Martha?"
+
+Martha did not answer, nor seem to hear; she pressed her lean hand,
+instead, to her heart, and drew back to a sofa and sat down, muttering,
+"My God, lighten our darkness, we beseech thee!" and she looked as if
+she were on the point of fainting.
+
+"That is a true Vandyck," said Mr. Longcluse, who was now again looking
+stedfastly at the picture. "It deserves to rank among his finest
+portraits. I have never seen anything of his more forcible. You really
+ought not to leave it here, and in this state." He walked over and
+raised the lower end of the frame gently from the wall. "Yes, just as
+you said, it wants to be backed. That portrait would not stand a shake,
+I can tell you. The canvas is perfectly rotten, and the paint--if you
+stand here you'll see--is ready to flake off. It is an awful pity. You
+shouldn't leave it in such danger."
+
+"No," said Richard, who was looking at the old woman. "I don't think
+Martha's well--will you excuse me for a moment?" And he was at the
+housekeeper's side. "What's the matter, Martha?" he said kindly. "Are
+you ill?"
+
+"Very bad, Sir. I beg your pardon for sitting, but I could not help; and
+the gentleman will excuse me."
+
+"Of course--but what's the matter?" said Richard.
+
+"A sudden fright like, Sir. I'm all over on a tremble," she quavered.
+
+"See how exquisitely that hand is painted," continued Mr. Longcluse,
+pursuing his criticism, "and the art with which the lights are managed.
+It is a wonderful picture. It makes one positively angry to see it in
+that state, and anywhere but in the most conspicuous and honourable
+place. If I owned that picture, I should never be tired showing it. I
+should have it where everyone who came into my house should see it; and
+I should watch every crack and blur on its surface, as I should the
+symptoms of a dying child, or the looks of the mistress of my heart. Now
+just look at this. Where is he? Oh!"
+
+"I beg your pardon, a thousand times, but I find my old friend Martha
+feels a little faint and ill," said Richard.
+
+"Dear me! I hope she's better," said Mr. Longcluse, approaching with
+solicitude. "Can I be of any use? Shall I touch the bell?"
+
+"I'm better, Sir, I thank you; I'm much better," said the old woman. "It
+won't signify nothing, only--" She was looking hard again at Mr.
+Longcluse, who now seemed perfectly at his ease, and showed in his
+countenance nothing but the commiseration befitting the occasion. "A
+sort of a weakness--a fright like--and I can't think, quite, what came
+over me."
+
+"Don't you think a glass of wine might do her good?" asked Mr.
+Longcluse.
+
+"Thanks, Sir, I don't drink it. Oh, lighten our darkness, we beseech
+thee! Good Lord, a' mercy on us! I take them drops, hartshorn and
+valerian, on a little water, when I feel nervous like. I don't know when
+I was took wi' t' creepins before."
+
+"You look better," said Richard.
+
+"I'm quite right again, Sir," she said, with a sigh. She had taken her
+"drops," and seemed restored.
+
+"Hadn't you better have one of the maids with you? I'm going now; I'll
+send some one," he said. "You must get all right, Martha. It pains me to
+see you ill. You're a very old friend, remember. You must be all right
+again; and, if you like, we'll have the doctor out, from town."
+
+He said this, holding her thin old hand very kindly, for he was by no
+means without good-nature. So sending the promised attendant, he and
+Longcluse proceeded to the billiard-room, where, having got the lamps
+lighted, they began to enjoy their smoke. Each, I fancy, was thinking of
+the little incident in the housekeeper's room. There was a long silence.
+
+"Poor old Tansey! She looked awfully ill," said Richard Arden at last.
+
+"By Jove! she did. Is that her name? She rather frightened me," said Mr.
+Longcluse. "I thought we had stumbled on a mad woman--she stared so. Has
+she ever had any kind of fit, poor thing?"
+
+"No. She grumbles a good deal, but I really think she's a healthy old
+woman enough. She says she was frightened."
+
+"We came in too suddenly, perhaps?"
+
+"No, that wasn't it, for I knocked first," said Arden.
+
+"Ah, yes, so you did. I only know she frightened me. I really thought
+she was out of her mind, and that she was going to stick me with a
+knife, perhaps," said Mr. Longcluse, with a little laugh and a shrug.
+
+Arden laughed, and puffed away at his cigar till he had it in a glow
+again. Was this explanation of what he had seen in Longcluse's
+countenance--a picture presented but for a fraction of a second, but
+thenceforward ineffaceable--quite satisfactory?
+
+In a short time Mr. Longcluse asked whether he could have a little
+brandy and water, which accordingly was furnished. In his first glass
+there was a great deal of brandy, and very little water indeed; and his
+second, sipped more at his leisure, was but little more diluted. A very
+faint flush tinged his pallid cheeks.
+
+Richard Arden was, by this time, thinking of his own debts and ill-luck,
+and at last he said, "I wonder what the art of getting on in the world
+is. Is it communicable? or is it no art at all, but a simple run of
+luck?"
+
+Mr. Longcluse smiled scornfully. "There are men who have immense faith
+in themselves," said he, "who have indomitable will, and who are
+provided with craft and pliancy for any situation. Those men are giants
+from the first to the last hour of action, unless, as happened to
+Napoleon, success enervates them. In the cradle, they strangle serpents;
+blind, they pull down palaces; old as Dandolo, they burn fleets and
+capture cities. It is only when they have taken to bragging that the
+_lues Napoleonica_ has set in. Now I have been, in a sense, a successful
+man--I am worth some money. If I were the sort of man I describe, I
+should be worth, if I cared for it, ten times what I have in as many
+years. But I don't care to confess I made my money by flukes. If, having
+no tenderness, you have two attributes--profound cunning and perfect
+audacity--nothing can keep you back. I'm a common-place man, I say; but
+I know what constitutes power. Life is a battle, and the general's
+qualities win."
+
+"I have not got the general's qualities, I think; and I know I haven't
+luck," said Arden; "so for my part I may as well drift, with as little
+trouble as may be, wherever the current drives. Happiness is not for all
+men."
+
+"Happiness is for _no_ man," said Mr. Longcluse. And a little silence
+followed. "Now suppose a fellow has got more money than ever he dreamed
+of," he resumed, "and finds money, after all, not quite what he fancied,
+and that he has come to long for a prize quite distinct and infinitely
+more precious; so that he finds, at last, that he never can be happy for
+an hour without it, and yet, for all his longing and his pains, sees it
+is unattainable as that star." (He pointed to a planet that shone down
+through the skylight.) "Is that man happy? He carries with him, go where
+he may, an aching heart, the pangs of jealousy and despair, and the
+longing of the damned for Paradise. That is _my_ miserable case."
+
+Richard Arden laughed, as he lighted his second cigar.
+
+"Well, if that's your case, you can't be one of those giants you
+described just now. Women are not the obdurate and cruel creatures you
+fancy. They are proud, and vain, and unforgiving; but the misery and the
+perseverance of a lover constitute a worship that first flatters and
+then wins them. Remember this, a woman finds it very hard to give up a
+worshipper, except for another. Now why should you despair? You are a
+gentleman, you are a clever fellow, an agreeable fellow; you are what is
+accounted a young man still, and you can make your wife rich. They all
+like that. It is not avarice, but pride. I don't know the young lady,
+but I see no good reason why you should fail."
+
+"I wish, Arden, I dare tell you all; but some day I'll tell you more."
+
+"The only thing is---- You'll not mind my telling you, as you have been
+so frank with me?"
+
+"Pray say whatever you think. I shall be ever so much obliged. I forget
+so many things about English manners and ways of thinking--I have lived
+so very much abroad. Should I be put up for a club?"
+
+"Well, I should not mind a club just yet, till you know more
+people--quite time enough. But you must manage better. Why should those
+Jew fellows, and other people, who don't hold, and never can, a position
+the least like yours, be among your acquaintance? You must make it a
+rule to drop all objectionable persons, and know none but good people.
+Of course, when you are strong enough it doesn't so much matter,
+provided you keep them at arm's length. But you passed your younger days
+abroad, as you say, and not being yet so well known here, you will have
+to be particular--don't you see? A man is so much judged by his
+acquaintance; and, in fact, it is essential."
+
+"A thousand thanks for any hints that strike you," said Longcluse
+good-humouredly.
+
+"They sound frivolous; but these trifles have immense weight with
+women," said Arden. "By Jove!" he added, glancing at his watch, "we
+shall be late. Your trap is at the door--suppose we go?"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER III.
+
+MR. LONGCLUSE OPENS HIS HEART.
+
+
+The old housekeeper had drawn near her window, and stood close to the
+pane, through which she looked out upon the star-lit night. The stars
+shine down over the foliage of huge old trees. Dim as shadows stand the
+horse and tax-cart that await Mr. Longcluse and Richard Arden, who now
+at length appear. The groom fixes the lamps, one of which shines full on
+Mr. Longcluse's peculiar face.
+
+"Ay--the voice; I could a' sworn to that," she muttered. "It went
+through me like a scythe. But that's a strange face; and yet there's
+summat in it, just a hint like, to call my thoughts out a-seeking up and
+down, and to and fro; and 'twill not let me rest until I come to find
+the truth. Mace? No, no. Langly? Not he. Yet 'twas summat _that night_,
+I think--summat awful. And who _was_ there? No one. Lighten our
+darkness, we beseech thee, O Lord! for my heart is sore troubled."
+
+Up jumped the groom. Mr. Longcluse had the reins in his hand, and he and
+his companion passed swiftly by the window, and the flash of the lamps
+crossed the panelled walls of the housekeeper's room. The light danced
+wildly from corner to corner of the wainscot, accompanied by the shadows
+of two geraniums in bow-pots on the window-stool. The lamps flew by, and
+she still stood there, with the palsied shake of her head and hand,
+looking out into the darkness, in rumination.
+
+Arden and Longcluse glided through the night air in silence, under the
+mighty old trees that had witnessed generations of Ardens, down the
+darker, narrow road, and by the faded old inn, once famous in those
+regions as the "Guy of Warwick," representing still on its board, in
+tarnished gold and colours, that redoubted champion, with a boar's head
+on the point of his sword, and a grotesque lion winding itself fawningly
+about his horse's legs.
+
+As they passed swiftly along this smooth and deserted road, Longcluse
+spoke. _Aperit præcordia vinum._ In his brandy and water he had not
+spared alcohol, and the quantity was considerable.
+
+"I have lots of money, Arden, and I can talk to people, as you say," he
+suddenly said, as if Richard Arden had spoken but a moment before; "but,
+on the whole, is there on earth a more miserable dog than I? There are
+things that trouble me that would make you laugh; there are others that
+would, if I dare tell them, make you sigh. Soon I shall be able; soon
+you shall know all. I'm not a bad fellow. I know how to give away money,
+and, what is harder to bestow on others, my time and labour. But who to
+look at me would believe it? I'm not a worse fellow than Penruddock. I
+can cry for pity and do a kind act like him; but I look in my glass, and
+I also feel like him, 'the mark of Cain' is on me--cruelty in my face.
+Why should Nature write on some men's faces such libels on their
+characters? Then here's another thing to make you laugh--you, a handsome
+fellow, to whom beauty belongs, I say, by right of birth--it would make
+me laugh also if I were not, as I am, forced every hour I live to count
+up, in agonies of hope and terror, my chances in that enterprise in
+which all my happiness for life is staked so wildly. Common ugliness
+does not matter, it is got over. But such a face as mine! Come, come!
+you are too good-natured to say. I'm not asking for consolation; I am
+only summing up my curses."
+
+"You make too much of these. Lady May thinks your face, she says, very
+interesting--upon my honour, she does."
+
+"Oh, heaven!" exclaimed Mr. Longcluse, with a shrug and a laugh.
+
+"And what is more to the purpose (will you forgive my reporting all
+this--you won't mind?), some young lady friends of hers who were by
+said, I assure you, that you had so much expression, and that your
+features were extremely refined."
+
+"It won't do, Arden; you are too good-natured," said he, laughing more
+bitterly.
+
+"I should much rather be as I am, if I were you, than be gifted with
+vulgar beauty--plump, pink and white, with black beady eyes, and all
+that," said Arden.
+
+"But the heaviest curse upon me is that which, perhaps, you do not
+suspect--the curse of--secrecy."
+
+"Oh, really!" said Arden, laughing, as if he had thought up to then that
+Mr. Longcluse's history was as well known as that of the ex-Emperor
+Napoleon.
+
+"I don't say that I shall come out like the enchanted hero in a fairy
+tale, and change in a moment from a beast into a prince; but I am
+something better than I seem. In a short time, if you cared to be bored
+with it, I shall have a great deal to tell you."
+
+There followed here a silence of two or three minutes, and then, on a
+sudden, pathetically, Mr. Longcluse broke forth--
+
+"What has a fellow like me to do with love? and less than beloved, can I
+ever be happy? I know something of the world--not of this London world,
+where I live less than I seem to do, and into which I came too late ever
+to understand it thoroughly--I know something of a greater world, and
+human nature is the same everywhere. You talk of a girl's pride inducing
+her to marry a man for the sake of his riches. Could I possess my
+beloved on those terms? I would rather place a pistol in my mouth, and
+blow my skull off. Arden, I'm unhappy; I'm the most miserable dog
+alive."
+
+"Come, Longcluse, that's all nonsense. Beauty is no advantage to a man.
+The being agreeable is an immense one. But success is what women
+worship, and if, in addition to that, you possess wealth--not, as I
+said, that they are sordid, but only vain-glorious--you become very
+nearly irresistible. Now _you_ are agreeable, successful and
+wealthy--you must see what follows."
+
+"I'm out of spirits," said Longcluse, and relapsed into silence, with a
+great sigh.
+
+By this time they had got within the lamps, and were threading streets,
+and rapidly approaching their destination. Five minutes more, and these
+gentlemen had entered a vast room, in the centre of which stood a
+billiard-table, with benches rising tier above tier to the walls, and a
+gallery running round the building above them, brilliantly lighted, as
+such places are, and already crowded with all kinds of people. There is
+going to be a great match of a "thousand up" played between Bill Hood
+and Bob Markham. The betting has been unusually high; it is still going
+on. The play won't begin for nearly half an hour. The "admirers of the
+game" have mustered in great force and variety. There are young peers,
+with sixty thousand a year, and there are gentlemen who live by their
+billiards. There are, for once in a way, grave persons, bankers, and
+counsel learned in the law; there are Jews and a sprinkling of
+foreigners; and there are members of Parliament and members of the swell
+mob.
+
+Mr. Longcluse has a good deal to think about this night. He _is_ out of
+spirits. Richard Arden is no longer with him, having picked up a friend
+or two in the room. Longcluse, with folded arms, and his shoulders
+against the wall, is in a profound reverie, his dark eyes for the time
+lowered to the floor, beside the point of his French boot. _There_
+unfold themselves beneath him picture after picture, the scenes of many
+a year ago. Looking down, there creeps over him an old horror, a
+supernatural disgust, and he sees in the dark a pair of wide, white
+eyes, staring up at him in an agony of terror, and a shrill yell,
+piercing a distance of many years, makes him shake his ears with a
+sudden chill. Is this the witches' Sabbath of our pale Mephistopheles--his
+night of goblins? He raised his eyes, and they met those of a person
+whom he had not seen for a very long time--a third part of his whole
+life. The two pairs of eyes, at nearly half across the room, have met,
+and for a moment fixed. The stranger smiles and nods. Mr. Longcluse does
+neither. He affects now to be looking over the stranger's shoulder at
+some more distant object. There is a strange chill and commotion at his
+heart.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IV.
+
+MONSIEUR LEBAS.
+
+
+Mr. Longcluse leaned still with folded arms, and his shoulder to the
+wall. The stranger, smiling and fussy, was making his way to him. There
+is nothing in this man's appearance to associate him with tragic
+incident or emotion of any kind. He is plainly a foreigner. He is short,
+fat, middle-aged, with a round fat face, radiant with good humour and
+good-natured enjoyment. His dress is cut in the somewhat grotesque style
+of a low French tailor. It is not very new, and has some spots of grease
+upon it. Mr. Longcluse perceives that he is now making his way towards
+him. Longcluse for a moment thought of making his escape by the door,
+which was close to him; but he reflected, "He is about the most innocent
+and good-natured soul on earth, and why should I seem to avoid him?
+Better, if he's looking for me, to let him find me, and say his say." So
+Longcluse looked another way, his arms still folded, and his shoulders
+against the wall as before.
+
+"Ah, ha! Monsieur is thinking profoundly," said a gay voice in French.
+"Ah, ha, ha, ha! you are surprised, Sir, to see me here. So am I, my
+faith! I saw you. I never forget a face."
+
+"Nor a friend, Lebas. Who could have imagined anything to bring you to
+London?" answered Longcluse, in the same language, shaking him warmly by
+the hand, and smiling down on the little man. "I shall never forget your
+kindness. I think I should have died in that _illness_ but for you. How
+can I ever thank you half enough?"
+
+"And the grand secret--the political difficulty--Monsieur found it well
+evaded," he said, mysteriously touching his upper lip with two fingers.
+
+"Not all quiet yet. I suppose you thought I was in Vienna?"
+
+"Eh? well, yes--so I did," answered Lebas, with a shrug. "But perhaps
+you think this place safer."
+
+"Hush! You'll come to me to-morrow. I'll tell you where to find me
+before we part, and you'll bring your portmanteau and stay with me while
+you remain in London, and the longer the better."
+
+"Monsieur is too kind, a great deal; but I am staying for my visit to
+London with my brother-in-law, Gabriel Laroque, the watchmaker. He lives
+on the Hill of Ludgate, and he would be offended if I were to reside
+anywhere but in his house while I stay. But if Monsieur would be so good
+as to permit me to call----"
+
+"You must come and dine with me to-morrow; I have a box for the opera.
+You love music, or you are not the Pierre Lebas whom I remember sitting
+with his violin at an open window. So come early, come before six; I
+have ever so much to ask you. And what has brought you to London?"
+
+"A very little business and a great deal of pleasure; but all in a
+week," said the little man, with a shrug and a hearty laugh. "I have
+come over here about some little things like that." He smiled archly as
+he produced from his waistcoat pocket a little flat box with a glass
+top, and shook something in it. "Commerce, you see. I have to see two or
+three more of the London people, and then my business will have
+terminated, and nothing remain for the rest of the week but
+pleasure--ha, ha!"
+
+"You left all at home well, I hope--children?" He was going to say
+"Madame," but a good many years had passed.
+
+"I have seven children. Monsieur will remember two. Three are by my
+first marriage, four by my second, and all enjoy the very best health.
+Three are very young--three, two, one year old; and they say a fourth is
+not impossible very soon," he added archly.
+
+Longcluse laughed kindly, and laid his hand upon his shoulder.
+
+"You must take charge of a little present for each from me, and one for
+Madame. And the old business still flourishes?"
+
+"A thousand thanks! yes, the business is the same--the file, the chisel,
+and knife." And he made a corresponding movement of his hand as he
+mentioned each instrument.
+
+"_Hush!_" said Longcluse, smiling, so that no one who did not hear him
+would have supposed there was so much cautious emphasis in the word. "My
+good friend, remember there are details we talk of, you and I together,
+that are not to be mentioned so suitably in a place like this," and he
+pressed his hand on his wrist, and shook it gently.
+
+"A thousand pardons! I am, I know, too careless, and let my tongue too
+often run before my caution. My wife, she says, 'You can't wash your
+shirt but you must tell the world.' It is my weakness truly. She is a
+woman of extraordinary penetration."
+
+Mr. Longcluse glanced from the corners of his eyes about the room.
+Perhaps he wished to ascertain whether his talk with this man, whom you
+would have taken to be little above the level of a French mechanic, had
+excited anyone's attention. But there was nothing to make him think so.
+
+"Now, Pierre, my friend, you must win some money upon this match--do you
+see? And you won't deny me the pleasure of putting down your stake for
+you; and, if you win, you shall buy something pretty for Madame--and,
+win or lose, I shall think it friendly of you after so many years, and
+like you the better."
+
+"Monsieur is too good," he said with effusion.
+
+"Now look. Do you see that fat Jew over there on the front bench--you
+can't mistake him--with the velvet waistcoat all in wrinkles, and the
+enormous lips, who talks to every second person who passes?"
+
+"I see perfectly, Monsieur."
+
+"He is betting three to one upon Markham. You must take his offer, and
+back Hood. I'm told _he'll_ win. Here are ten pounds, you may as well
+make them thirty. Don't say a word. Our English custom is to _tip_, as
+we say, our friend's sons at school, and to make presents to everybody,
+as often as we like. Now there--not a word." He quietly slipped into his
+hand a little rouleau of ten pounds in gold. "If you say one word you
+wound me," he continued. "But, good Heaven! my dear friend, haven't you
+a breast-pocket?"
+
+"No, Monsieur; but this is quite safe. I was paid, only five minutes
+before I came here, fifteen pounds in gold, a cheque of forty-four
+pounds, and----"
+
+"Be silent. You may be overheard. Speak here in a very low tone, as I
+do. And do you mean to tell me that you carry all that money in your
+coat pocket?"
+
+"But in a pocket-book, Monsieur."
+
+"All the more convenient for the _chevalier d'industrie_," said
+Longcluse. "Stop. Pray don't produce it; your fate is, perhaps, sealed
+if you do. There are gentlemen in this room who would hustle and rob you
+in the crowd as you get out; or, failing that, who, seeing that you are
+a stranger, would follow and murder you in the streets, for the sake of
+a twentieth part of that sum."
+
+"Gabriel thought there would be none here but men distinguished," said
+Lebas, in some consternation.
+
+"Distinguished by the special attention of the police, some of them,"
+said Longcluse.
+
+"Hé! that is very true," said Monsieur Lebas--"very true, I am sure of
+it. See you that man there, Monsieur? Regard him for a moment. The tall
+man, who leans with his shoulder to the metal pillar of the gallery. My
+faith! he has observed my steps and followed me. I thought he was a spy.
+But my friend he says 'No, that is a man of bad character, dismissed for
+bad practices from the police.' Aha! he has watched me sideways, with
+the corner of his eye. I will watch him with the corner of mine--ha,
+ha!"
+
+"It proves, at all events, Lebas, that there are people here other than
+gentlemen and men of honest lives," said Longcluse.
+
+"But," said Lebas, brightening a little, "I have this weapon," producing
+a dagger from the same pocket.
+
+"Put it back this instant. Worse and worse, my good friend. Don't you
+know that just now there is a police activity respecting foreigners, and
+that two have been arrested only yesterday on no charge but that of
+having weapons about their persons? I don't know what the devil you had
+best do."
+
+"I can return to the Hill of Ludgate--eh?"
+
+"Pity to lose the game; they won't let you back again," said Longcluse.
+
+"What shall I do?" said Lebas, keeping his hand now in his pocket on his
+treasure.
+
+Longcluse rubbed the tip of his finger a little over his eyebrow,
+thinking.
+
+"Listen to me," said Longcluse, suddenly. "Is your brother-in-law here?"
+
+"No, Monsieur."
+
+"Well, you have some London friend in the room, haven't you?"
+
+"One--yes."
+
+"Only be sure he is one whom you can trust, and who has a safe pocket."
+
+"Oh, yes, Monsieur, entirely! and I saw him place his purse so," he
+said, touching his coat, over his heart, with his fingers.
+
+"Well, now, you can't manage it here, under the gaze of the people;
+but--_where_ is best? Yes--you see those two doors at opposite sides in
+the wall, at the far end of the room? They open into two parallel
+corridors leading to the hall, and a little way down there is a cross
+passage, in the middle of which is a door opening into a smoking-room.
+That room will be deserted now, and there, unseen, you can place your
+money and dagger in his charge."
+
+"Ah, thank you a hundred thousand times, Monsieur!" answered Lebas. "I
+shall be writing to the Baron van Boeren to-morrow, and I will tell him
+I have met Monsieur."
+
+"Don't mind; how is the baron?" asked Longcluse.
+
+"Very well. Beginning to be not so young, you know, and thinking of
+retiring. I will tell him his work has succeeded. If he demolishes, he
+also secures. If he sometimes sheds blood----"
+
+"_Hush!_" whispered Longcluse, sternly.
+
+"There is no one," murmured little Lebas, looking round, but dropping
+his voice to a whisper. "He also saves a neck sometimes from the blade
+of the guillotine."
+
+Longcluse frowned, a little embarrassed. Lebas smiled archly. In a
+moment Longcluse's impatient frown broke into a mysterious smile that
+responded.
+
+"May I say one word more, and make one request of Monsieur, which I hope
+he will not think very impertinent?" asked Monsieur Lebas, who had just
+been on the point of taking his leave.
+
+"It mayn't be in my power to grant it; but you can't be what you say--I
+am too much obliged to you--so speak quite freely," said Longcluse.
+
+So they talked a little more and parted, and Monsieur Lebas went on his
+way.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER V.
+
+A CATASTROPHE.
+
+
+The play has commenced. Longcluse, who likes and understands the game,
+sitting beside Richard Arden, is all eye. He is intensely eager and
+delighted. He joins modestly in the clapping that now and then follows a
+stroke of extraordinary brilliancy. Now and then he whispers a criticism
+in Arden's ear. There are many vicissitudes in the game. The players
+have entered on the third hundred, and still "doubtful it stood." The
+excitement is extraordinary. The assembly is as hushed as if it were
+listening to a sermon, and, I am afraid, more attentive. Now, on a
+sudden, Hood scores a hundred and sixty-eight points in a single break.
+A burst of prolonged applause follows, and, during the clapping, in
+which he had at first joined, Longcluse says to Arden,--
+
+"I can't tell you how that run of Hood's delights me. I saw a poor
+little friend of mine here before the play began--I had not seen him
+since I was little more than a boy--a Frenchman, a good-natured little
+soul, and I advised him to back Hood, and I have been trembling up to
+this moment. But I think he's safe now to win. Markham can't score this
+time. If he's in 'Queer Street,' as they whisper round the room, you'll
+find he'll either give a simple miss, or put himself into the pocket."
+
+"Well, I'm sure I hope your friend will win, because it will put three
+hundred and eighty pounds into my pocket," said Richard Arden.
+
+And now silence was called, and the building became, in a moment, hushed
+as a cathedral before the anthem; and Markham knocked his own ball into
+the pocket as Longcluse had predicted.
+
+On sped the game, and at last Hood scored a thousand, and won the match,
+greeted by an uproar of applause that, now being no longer restrained,
+lasted for nearly five minutes. The assemblage had, by this time,
+descended from the benches, and crowded the floor in clusters,
+discussing the play or settling bets. The people in the gallery were
+pouring down by the four staircases, and adding to the crowd and buzz.
+
+Suddenly there is a sort of excitement perceptible of a new kind--a
+gathering and pressure of men about one of the doors at the far corner
+of the room. Men are looking back and beckoning to their companions;
+others are shouldering forward as strenuously as they can. What is
+it--any dispute about the score?--a pair of men boxing in the passage?
+
+"No suspicion of fire?" the men at this near end exclaim, and sniff over
+their shoulders, and look about them, and move toward the point where
+the crowd is thickening, not knowing what to make of the matter. But
+soon there runs a rumour about the room--"a man has just been found
+murdered in a room outside," and the crowd now press forward more
+energetically to the point of attraction.
+
+In the cross-passage which connects the two corridors, as Mr. Longcluse
+described, there is an awful crush, and next to no light. A single jet
+of gas burns in the smoking room, where the pressure of the crowd is not
+quite so much felt. There are two policemen in that chamber, in the
+ordinary uniform of the force, and three detectives in plain clothes,
+one supporting a corpse already stiffening, in a sitting posture, as it
+was found, in a far angle of the room, on the bench to your left as you
+look in. All the people are looking up the room. You can see nothing but
+hats, and backs of heads, and shoulders. There is a ceaseless buzz and
+clack of talk and conjecture. Even the policemen are looking, as the
+rest do, at the body. The man who has mounted on the chair near the
+door, with the other beside him, who has one foot on the rung and
+another on the seat, and an arm round the first gentleman's neck,
+although he has not the honour of his acquaintance, to support himself,
+can see, over the others' heads, the one silent face which looks back
+towards the door, upon so many gaping, and staring, and gabbling ones.
+The light is faint. It has occurred to no one to light the gas lamps in
+the centre. But that forlorn face is distinct enough. Fixed and leaden
+it is, with the chin a little raised. The eyes are wide open, with a
+deep and awful gaze; the mouth slightly distorted with what the doctors
+call "a convulsive smile," which shows the teeth a little, and has an
+odd, wincing look.
+
+As I live, it is the little Frenchman, Pierre Lebas, who was talking so
+gaily to-night with Mr. Longcluse!
+
+The ebony haft of a dagger, sticking straight out, shows where the hand
+of the assassin planted the last stab of four, through his black satin
+waistcoat, embroidered with green leaves, red strawberries, and yellow
+flowers, which, I suppose, was one of the finest articles in the little
+wardrobe that Madame Lebas packed up for his holiday. It is not worth
+much now. It has four distinct cuts, as I have said, on the left side,
+right through it, and is soaked in blood.
+
+His pockets have been rifled. The police have found nothing in them but
+a red pocket-handkerchief and a papier-maché snuff-box. If that dumb
+mouth could speak but fifty words, what a world of conjecture it would
+end, and poor Lebas's story would be listened to as never was story of
+his before!
+
+A policeman now takes his place at the door to prevent further pressure.
+No new-comers will be admitted, except as others go out. Those outside
+are asking questions of those within, and transmitting, over their
+shoulders, particulars, eagerly repeated. On a sudden there is a
+subsidence of the buzz and gabble within, and one voice, speaking almost
+at the pitch of a shriek, is heard declaiming. White as a sheet, Mr.
+Longcluse, in high excitement, is haranguing in the smoking-room,
+mounted on a table.
+
+"I say," he cried, "gentlemen, excuse me. There are so many together
+here, so many known to be wealthy, it is an opportunity for a word.
+Things are coming to a pretty pass--garotters in our streets and
+assassins in our houses of entertainment! Here is a poor little
+fellow--look at him--here to-night to see the game, perfectly well and
+happy, murdered by some miscreant for the sake of the money he had about
+him. It might have been the fate of anyone of us. I spoke to him
+to-night. I had not seen him since I was a boy almost. Seven children
+and a wife, he told me, dependent on him. I say there are two things
+wanted--first, a reward of such magnitude as will induce exertion. I
+promise, for my own share, to put down double the amount promised by the
+highest subscriber. Secondly, something should be done for the family he
+has left, in proportion to the loss they have sustained. Upon this point
+I shall make inquiry myself. But this is plain, the danger and scandal
+have attained a pitch at which none of us who cares to walk the streets
+at night, or at any time to look in upon amusements like that we
+attended this evening, can permit them longer to stand. There is a fatal
+defect somewhere. Are our police awake and active? Very possibly; but if
+so the force is not adequate. I say this frightful scandal must be
+abated if, as citizens of London, we desire to maintain our reputation
+for common sense and energy."
+
+There was a tall thin fellow, shabbily dressed, standing nearly behind
+the door, with a long neck, and a flat mean face, slightly pitted with
+small-pox, rather pallid, who was smiling lazily, with half-closed eyes,
+as Mr. Longcluse declaimed; and when he alluded pointedly to the
+inadequacy of the police, this man's amusement improved, and he winked
+pleasantly at the clock which he was consulting at the moment with the
+corner of his eye.
+
+And now a doctor arrived, and Gabriel Laroque the watchmaker, and more
+police, with an inspector. Laroque faints when he sees his murdered
+friend. Recovered after a time, he identifies the body, identifies the
+dagger also as the property of poor Lebas.
+
+The police take the matter now quite into their hands, and clear the
+room.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VI.
+
+TO BED.
+
+
+Mr. Longcluse jumped into a cab, and told the man to drive to his house
+in Bolton Street, Piccadilly. He rolled his coat about him with a kind
+of violence, and threw himself into a corner. Then, as it were, _in
+furore_, and with a stamp on the floor, he pitched himself into the
+other corner.
+
+"I've seen to-night what I never thought I should see. What devil
+possessed me to tell him to go into that black little smoking-room?" he
+muttered. "What a room it is! It has seized my brain somehow. Am I in a
+fever, or going mad, or what? That cursed smoking-room! I can't get out
+of it. It is in the centre of the earth. I'm built round and round in
+it. The moment I begin to think, I'm in it. The moment I close my eyes,
+its four stifling walls are round me. There is no way out. It is like
+hell."
+
+The wind had come round to the south, and a soft rain was pattering on
+the windows. He stopped the cab somewhere near St. James's Street, and
+got out. It was late--it was just past two o'clock, and the streets were
+quiet. Wonderfully still was the great city at this hour, and the
+descent of the rain went on with a sound like a prolonged "hush" all
+round. He paid the man, and stood for a while on the kerbstone, looking
+up and down the street, under the downpour of the rain. You might have
+taken this millionaire for a man who knew not where to lay his head that
+night. He took off his hat, and let the refreshing rain saturate his
+hair, and stream down his forehead and temples.
+
+"Your cab's stuffy and hot, ain't it? Standing half the day with the
+glass in the sun, I daresay," said he to the man, who was fumbling in
+his pockets, and pretending a difficulty about finding change.
+
+"See, never mind, if you haven't got change; I'll go on. Heavier rain
+than I fancied; very pleasant though. When did the rain begin?" asked
+Mr. Longcluse, who seemed in no hurry to get back again.
+
+"A trifle past ten, Sir."
+
+"I say, your horse's knees are a bit broken, ain't they? Never mind, I
+don't care. He can pull you and me to Bolton Street, I daresay."
+
+"Will you please to get in, Sir?" inquired the cabman.
+
+Mr. Longcluse nodded, frowning and thinking of something else; the rain
+still descending on his bare head, his hat in his hand.
+
+The cabman thought this "cove" had been drinking and must be a trifle
+"tight." He would not mind if he stood so for a couple of hours; it
+would run his fare up to something pretty. So cabby had thoughts of
+clapping a nosebag to his horse's jaws, and was making up his mind to a
+bivouac. But Mr. Longcluse on a sudden got in, repeating his direction
+to the driver in a gay and brisk tone, that did not represent his real
+sensations.
+
+"Why should I be so disturbed at that little French fellow? Have I been
+ill, that my nerve is gone and I such a fool? One would think I had
+never seen a dead fellow till now. Better for him to be quiet than at
+his wit's ends, devising ways and means to keep his seven cubs in bread
+and butter. I should have gone away when the game was over. What earthly
+reason led me into that d----d room, when I heard the fuss there? I've a
+mind to go and play hazard, or see a doctor. Arden said he'd look in, in
+the morning. I should like that; I'll talk to Arden. I sha'n't sleep, I
+know; I can't, all night; I've got imprisoned in that suffocating room.
+Shall I ever close my eyes again?"
+
+They had now reached the door of the small, unpretending house of this
+wealthy man. The servant who opened the door, though he knew his
+business, stared a little, for he had never seen his master return in
+such a plight before, and looking so haggard.
+
+"Where's Franklin?"
+
+"Arranging things in your room, Sir."
+
+"Give me a candle. The cab is paid. Mr. Arden, mind, may call in the
+morning; if I should not be down, show him to my room. You are not to
+let him go without seeing me."
+
+Up-stairs went the pale master of the house. "Franklin!" he called, as
+he mounted the last flight of stairs, next his bed-room.
+
+"Yes, Sir."
+
+"I sha'n't want you to-night, I think--that is, I shall manage what I
+want for myself; but I mean to ring for you by-and-by." He was in his
+dressing-room by this time, and looked round to see that his comforts
+were provided for as usual--his foot-bath and hot water.
+
+"Shall I fetch your tea, Sir?"
+
+"I'll drink no tea to-night; I've been disgusted. I've seen a dead man,
+quite unexpectedly; and I sha'n't get over it for some hours, I daresay.
+I feel ill. And what you must do is this: when I ring my bell, you come
+back, and you must sit up here till eight in the morning. I shall leave
+the door between this and the next room open; and should you hear me
+sleeping uneasily, moaning, or anything like nightmare, you must come in
+and waken me. And you are not to go to sleep, mind; the moment I call, I
+expect you in my room. Keep yourself awake how you can; you may sleep
+all to-morrow, if you like."
+
+With this charge Franklin departed.
+
+But Mr. Longcluse's preparations for bed occupied a longer time than he
+had anticipated. When nearly an hour had passed, Mr. Franklin ventured
+up-stairs, and quietly approached the dressing-room door; but there he
+heard his master still busy with his preparations, and withdrew. It was
+not until nearly half-an-hour more had passed that his bell gave the
+promised signal, and Mr. Franklin established himself for the night, in
+the easy-chair in the dressing-room, with the connecting door between
+the two rooms open.
+
+Mr. Longcluse was right. The shock which his nerves had received did not
+permit him to sleep very soon. Two hours later he called for the
+Eau-de-Cologne that stood on his dressing-table; and although he made
+belief to wet his temples with it, and kept it at his bedside with that
+professed design, it was Mr. Franklin's belief that he drank the greater
+part of what remained in the capacious cut-glass bottle. It was not
+until people were beginning to "turn out" for their daily labour that
+sleep at length visited the wearied eye-balls of the Crœsus.
+
+Three hours of death-like sleep, and Mr. Longcluse, with a little start,
+was wide awake.
+
+"Franklin!"
+
+"Yes, Sir." And Mr. Franklin stood at his bedside.
+
+"What o'clock is it?"
+
+"Just struck ten, Sir."
+
+"Hand me the _Times_." This was done.
+
+"Tell them to get breakfast as usual. I'm coming down. Open the
+shutters, and draw the curtains, quite."
+
+When Franklin had done this and gone down, Mr. Longcluse read the
+_Times_ with a stern eagerness, still in bed. The great billiard match
+between Hood and Markham was given in spirited detail; but he was
+looking for something else. Just under this piece of news, he found
+it--"Murder and Robbery, in the Saloon Tavern." He read this twice over,
+and then searched the paper in vain for any further news respecting it.
+After this search, he again read the short account he had seen before,
+very carefully, and more than once. Then he jumped out of bed, and
+looked at himself in the glass in his dressing-room.
+
+"How awfully seedy I am looking!" he muttered, after a careful
+inspection. "Better by-and-by."
+
+His hand was shaking like that of a man who had made a debauch, or was
+worn out with ague. He looked ten years older.
+
+"I should hardly know myself," muttered he. "What a confounded, sinful
+old fogey I look, and I so young and innocent!"
+
+The sneer was for himself and at himself. The delivery of such is an odd
+luxury which, at one time or other, most men indulge in. Perhaps it
+should teach us to take them more kindly when other people crack such
+cynical jokes on our heads, or, at least, to perceive that they don't
+always argue personal antipathy.
+
+The sour smile which had, for a moment, flickered with a wintry light on
+his face, gave place suddenly to a dark fatigue; his features sank, and
+he heaved a long, deep, and almost shuddering sigh.
+
+There are moments, happily very rare, when the idea of suicide is
+distinct enough to be dangerous, and having passed which, a man feels
+that Death has looked him very nearly in the face. Nothing more trite
+and true than the omnipresence of suffering. The possession of wealth
+exempts the unfortunate owner from, say, two-thirds of the curse that
+lies heavy on the human race. Two thirds is a great deal; but so is the
+other third, and it may have in it, at times, something as terrible as
+human nature can support.
+
+Mr. Longcluse, the millionaire, had, of course, many poor enviers. Had
+any one of all these uttered such a sigh that morning? Or did any one
+among them feel wearier of life?
+
+"When I have had my tub, I shall be quite another man," said he.
+
+But it did not give him the usual fillip; on the contrary, he felt
+rather chilled.
+
+"What can the matter be? I'm a changed man," said he, wondering, as
+people do at the days growing shorter in autumn, that time had produced
+some changes. "I remember when a scene or an excitement produced no more
+effect upon me, after the moment, than a glass of champagne; and now I
+feel as if I had swallowed poison, or drunk the cup of madness.
+Shaking!--hand, heart, every joint. I have grown such a muff!"
+
+Mr. Longcluse had at length completed his very careless toilet, and
+looking ill, went down-stairs in his dressing-gown and slippers.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VII.
+
+FAST FRIENDS.
+
+
+In little more than half-an-hour, as Mr. Longcluse was sitting at his
+breakfast in his dining-room, Richard Arden was shown in.
+
+"Dressing-gown and slippers--what a lazy dog I am compared with you!"
+said Longcluse gaily as he entered.
+
+"Don't say another word on that subject, I beg. I should have been later
+myself, had I dared; but my Uncle David had appointed to meet me at
+ten."
+
+"Won't you take something?"
+
+"Well, as I have had no breakfast, I don't mind if I do," said Arden,
+laughing.
+
+Longcluse rang the bell.
+
+"When did you leave that place last night?" asked Longcluse.
+
+"I fancy about the same time that you went--about five or ten minutes
+after the match ended. You heard there was a man murdered in a passage
+there? I tried to get down and see it but the crowd was awful."
+
+"I was more lucky--I came earlier," said Longcluse. "It was perfectly
+sickening, and I have been seedy ever since. You may guess what a shock
+it was to me. The murdered man was that poor little Frenchman I told you
+of, who had been talking to me, in high spirits, just before the play
+began--and there he was, poor fellow! You'll see it all there; it makes
+me sick."
+
+He handed him the _Times_.
+
+"Yes, I see. I daresay the police will make him out," said Arden, as he
+glanced hastily over it. "Did you remark some awfully ill-looking
+fellows there?"
+
+"I never saw so many together in a place of the kind before," said
+Longcluse.
+
+"That's a capital account of the match," said Arden, whom it interested
+more than the tragedy of poor little Lebas did. He read snatches of it
+aloud as he ate his breakfast: and then, laying the paper down, he said,
+"By-the-bye, I need not bother you by asking your advice, as I intended.
+My uncle David has been blowing me up, and I think he'll make everything
+straight. When he sends for me and gives me an awful lecture, he always
+makes it up to me afterwards."
+
+"I wish, Arden, I stood as little in need of your advice as you do, it
+seems, of mine," said Longcluse suddenly, after a short silence. His
+dark eyes were fixed on Richard Arden's. "I have been fifty times on the
+point of making a confession to you, and my heart has failed me. The
+hour is coming. These things won't wait. I must speak, Arden, soon or
+never--_very_ soon, or never. _Never_, perhaps, would be wisest."
+
+"Speak _now_, on the contrary," said Arden, laying down his knife and
+fork, and leaning back. "Now is the best time always. If it's a bad
+thing, why, it's over; and if it's a good one, the sooner we have it the
+better."
+
+Longcluse rose, looking down in meditation, and in silence walked slowly
+to the window, where, for a time, without speaking he stood in a
+reverie. Then, looking up, he said, "No man likes a crisis. 'No good
+general ever fights a pitched battle if he can help it.' Wasn't that
+Napoleon's saying? No man who has not lost his head likes to get
+together all he has on earth, and make one stake of it. I have been on
+the point of speaking to you often. I have always recoiled."
+
+"Here I am, my dear Longcluse," said Richard Arden, rising and following
+him to the window, "ready to hear you. I ought to say, only too happy if
+I can be of the least use."
+
+"Immense! everything?" said Longcluse vehemently. "And yet I don't know
+how to ask you--how to begin--so much depends. Don't you conjecture the
+subject?"
+
+"Well, perhaps I do--perhaps I don't. Give me some clue."
+
+"Have you formed no conjecture?" asked Longcluse.
+
+"Perhaps."
+
+"Is it anything in any way connected with your sister, Miss Arden?"
+
+"It may be, possibly."
+
+"Say what you think, Arden, I beseech you."
+
+"Well, I think, perhaps, you admire her."
+
+"Do I? Do I? Is that all? Would to God I could say that is all!
+Admiration, what is it?--Nothing. Love?--Nothing. Mine is adoration and
+utter madness. I have told my secret. What do you say? Do you hate me
+for it?"
+
+"Hate you, my dear fellow! Why on earth should I hate you? On the
+contrary, I ought, I think, to like you better. I'm only a little
+surprised that your feelings should so much exceed anything I could have
+supposed."
+
+"Yesterday, Arden, you spoke as if you liked me. As we drove into that
+place, I fancied you half understood me; and cheered by what you then
+said, I have spoken that which might have died with me, but for that."
+
+"Well, what's the matter? My dear Longcluse, you talk as if I had shown
+signs of wavering friendship. Have I? Quite the contrary."
+
+"Quite the contrary, that is true," said Longcluse eagerly. "Yes, you
+_should_ like me better for it--that is true also. Yours is no wavering
+friendship, I'm sure of it. Let us shake hands upon it. A treaty, Arden,
+a treaty!"
+
+With a fierce smile upon his pale face, and a sudden fire in his eyes,
+he extended his hand energetically, and took that of Arden, who answered
+the invitation with a look in which gleamed faintly something of
+amusement.
+
+"Now, Richard Arden," he continued excitedly, "you have more influence
+with Miss Arden than falls commonly to the lot of a brother. I have
+observed it. It results from her having had during her earlier years
+little society but yours, and from your being some years her senior. It
+results from her strong affection for you, from her admiration of your
+talents, and from her having neither brother nor sister to divide those
+feelings. I never yet saw brother possessed of so evident and powerful
+an influence with a sister. You must use it all for me."
+
+He continued to hold Arden's hand in his as he spoke.
+
+"You can withdraw your hand if you decline," said he. "I sha'n't
+complain. But your hand remains--you don't. It is a treaty, then.
+Henceforward we live _fædere icto_. I'm an exacting friend, but a good
+one."
+
+"My dear fellow, you do me but justice. I am your friend, altogether.
+But you must not mistake me for a guardian or a father in the matter. I
+wish I could make my sister think exactly as I do upon every subject,
+and _that_ above all others. All I can say is, in me you have a fast
+friend."
+
+Longcluse pressed his hand, which he had not relinquished, at these
+words, with a firm grasp and a quick shake.
+
+"Now listen. I must speak on this point, the one that is in my mind, my
+chief difficulty. Personally, there is not, I think, a living being in
+England who knows my history. I am glad of it, for reasons which you
+will approve by-and-by. But this is an enormous disadvantage, though
+only temporary, and the friends of the young lady must weigh my wealth
+against it for the present. But when the time comes, which can't now be
+distant, upon my honour! upon my soul!--by Heaven, I'll show you I'm of
+as good and old a family as any in England! We have been gentlemen up to
+the time of the Conqueror, here in England, and as far before him as
+record can be traced in Normandy. If I fail to show you this when the
+hour comes, stigmatise me as you will."
+
+"I have not a doubt, dear Longcluse. But you are urging a point that
+really has no weight with us people in England. We have taken off our
+hats to the gentlemen in casques and tabards, and feudal glories are at
+a discount everywhere but in Debrett, where they are taken with
+allowance. Your ideas upon these matters are more Austrian than ours. We
+expect, perhaps, a little more from the man, but certainly less from his
+ancestors than our forefathers did. So till a title turns up, and the
+heralds want them, make your mind easy on matters of pedigree, and then
+you can furnish them with effect. All I can tell you is this--there are
+hardly fifty men in England who dare tell all the truth about their
+families."
+
+"We are friends, then; and in that relation, Arden, if there are
+privileges, there are also liabilities, remember, and both extend into a
+possibly distant future."
+
+Longcluse spoke with a gloomy excitement that his companion did not
+quite understand.
+
+"That is quite true, of course," said Arden.
+
+Each was looking in the other's face for a moment, and each face grew
+suddenly dark, darker--and the whole room darkened as the air was
+overshadowed by a mass of cloud that eclipsed the sun, threatening
+thunder.
+
+"By Jove! How awfully dark in a moment!" said Arden, looking from the
+face thus suddenly overcast through the window towards the sky.
+
+"Dark as the future we were speaking of," said Longcluse, with a sad
+smile.
+
+"Dark in one sense, I mean unseen, but not darkened in the ill-omened
+sense," said Richard Arden. "I have great confidence in the future. I
+suppose I am sanguine."
+
+"I ought to be sanguine, if having been lucky hitherto should make one
+so, and yet I'm not. _My_ happiness depends on that which I cannot, in
+the least, control. Thought, action, energy, contribute nothing, and so
+I but drift, and--my heart fails me. Tell me, Arden, for Heaven's sake,
+truth--spare me nothing, conceal nothing. Let me but know it, however
+bitter. First tell me, does Miss Arden dislike me--has she an antipathy
+to me?"
+
+"Dislike you! Nonsense. How could that be? She evidently enjoys your
+society, when you are in spirits and choose to be amusing. Dislike you?
+Oh, my dear Longcluse, you can't have fancied such a thing!" said Arden.
+
+"A man placed as I am may fancy anything--things infinitely more
+unlikely. I sometimes hope she has never perceived my admiration. It
+seems strange and cruel, but I believe where a man cannot be beloved,
+nothing is so likely to make him _hated_ as his presuming to love.
+_There_ is the secret of half the tragedies we read of. The man cannot
+cease to love, and the idol of his passion not only disregards but
+insults it. It is their cruel nature; and thus the pangs of jealousy and
+the agitations of despair are heightened by a peculiar torture, the
+hardest of all hell's torture to endure."
+
+"Well, I have seen you pretty often together, and you must see there is
+nothing of that kind," said Arden.
+
+"You speak quite frankly, do you? For Heaven's sake don't spare me!"
+urged Longcluse.
+
+"I say exactly what I think. There can't be any such feeling," said
+Arden.
+
+Longcluse sighed, looked down thoughtfully, and then, raising his eyes
+again, he said--
+
+"You must answer me another question, dear Arden, and I shall, for the
+present, task your kindness no more. If you think it a fair question,
+will you promise to answer me with unsparing frankness? Let me hear the
+worst."
+
+"Certainly," answered his companion.
+
+"Does your sister like anyone in particular--is she attached to
+anyone--are her affections quite disengaged?"
+
+"So far as I am aware, certainly. She never cared for any one among all
+the people who admired her, and I am quite certain such a thing could
+not be without my observing it," answered Richard Arden.
+
+"I don't know; perhaps not," said Longcluse. "But there is a young
+friend of yours, who I thought was an admirer of Miss Arden's, and
+possibly a favoured one. You guess, I daresay, who it is I mean?"
+
+"I give you my honour I have not the least idea."
+
+"I mean an early friend of yours--a man about your own age--who has
+often been staying in Yorkshire and at Mortlake with you, and who was
+almost like a brother in your house--very intimate."
+
+"Surely you can't mean Vivian Darnley?" exclaimed Richard Arden.
+
+"I do. I mean no other."
+
+"Vivian Darnley? Why, he has hardly enough to live on, much less to
+marry on. He has not an idea of any such thing. If my father fancied
+such an absurdity possible, he would take measures to prevent his ever
+seeing her more. You could not have hit upon a more impossible man," he
+resumed, after a moment's examination of a theory which,
+notwithstanding, made him a little more uneasy than he would have cared
+to confess. "Darnley is no fool either, and I think he is a honourable
+fellow; and altogether, knowing him as I do, the thing is utterly
+incredible. And as for Alice, the idea of his imagining any such folly,
+I can undertake to say, positively never entered her mind."
+
+Here was another pause. Longcluse was again thoughtful.
+
+"May I ask one other question, which I think you will have no difficulty
+in answering?" said he.
+
+"What you please, dear Longcluse; you may command me."
+
+"Only this, how do you think Sir Reginald would receive me?"
+
+"A great deal better than he will ever receive me; with his best
+bow--no, not that, but with open arms and his brightest smile. I tell
+you, and you'll find it true, my father is a man of the world. Money
+won't, of course, do everything; but it can do a great deal. It can't
+make a vulgar man a gentleman, but it may make a gentleman anything. I
+really think you would find him a very fast friend. And now I must leave
+you, dear Longcluse. I have just time, and no more, to keep my
+appointment with old Mr. Blount, to whom my uncle commands me to go at
+twelve."
+
+"Heaven keep us both, dear Arden, in this cheating world! Heaven keep us
+true in this false London world! And God punish the first who breaks
+faith with the other!"
+
+So spoke Longcluse, taking his hand again, and holding it hard for a
+moment, with his unfathomable dark eyes on Arden. Was there a faint and
+unconscious menace in his pale face, as he uttered these words, which a
+little stirred Arden's pride?
+
+"That's a comfortable litany to part with--a form of blessing elevated
+so neatly, at the close, into a malediction. However, I don't object.
+Amen, by all means," laughed Arden.
+
+Longcluse smiled.
+
+"A malediction? I really believe it was. Something very like it, and one
+that includes myself, doesn't it? But we are not likely to earn it. An
+arrow shot into the sea, it can hurt no one. But oh, dear Arden, what
+does such language mean but suffering? What is all bitterness but pain?
+Is any mind that deserves the name ever cruel, except from misery? We
+are good friends, Arden: and if ever I seem to you for a moment other
+than friendly, just say, 'It is his heart-ache and not he that speaks.'
+Good-bye! God bless you!"
+
+At the door there was another parting.
+
+"There's a long dull day before me--say, rather, _night_; weary eyes,
+sleepless brain," murmured Longcluse, in a rather dismal soliloquy,
+standing in his slippers and dressing-gown again at the window.
+"Suspense! What a hell is in that word! Chain a man across a rail, in a
+tunnel--pleasant situation! let him listen for the faint fifing and
+drumming of the engine, miles away, not knowing whether deliverance or
+death may come first. Bad enough, that suspense. What is it to mine! I
+shall see her to-night. I shall see her, and how will it all be? Richard
+Arden wishes it--yes, he does. 'Away, slight man!' It is Brutus who says
+that, I think. Good Heaven! Think of my life--the giddy steps I go by.
+That dizzy walk by moonlight, when I lost my way in Switzerland--beautiful
+nightmare!--the two mile ledge of rock before me, narrow
+as a plank; up from my left, the sheer wall of rock; at my right
+so close that my glove might have dropped over it, the precipice; and
+curling vapour on the cliffs above, that seem about to break, and
+envelope all below in blinding mist. There is my life translated into
+landscape. It has been one long adventure--danger--fatigue. Nature is
+full of beauty--many a quiet nook in life, where peace resides; many a
+man whose path is broad and smooth. Woe to the man who loses his way on
+Alpine tracks, and is benighted!"
+
+Now Mr. Longcluse recollected himself. He had letters to read and note.
+He did this rapidly. He had business in town. He had fifty things on his
+hands; and, the day over, he would see Alice Arden again.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VIII.
+
+CONCERNING A BOOT.
+
+
+Several pairs of boots were placed in Mr. Longcluse's dressing-room.
+
+"Where are the boots that I wore yesterday?" asked he.
+
+"If you please, Sir," said Mr. Franklin, "the man called this morning
+for the right boot of that pair."
+
+"What man?" asked Mr. Longcluse, rather grimly.
+
+"Mr. Armagnac's man, Sir."
+
+"Did you desire him to call for it?" asked Mr. Longcluse.
+
+"No, Sir. I thought you must have told some one else to order him to
+send for it," said Franklin.
+
+"_I?_ You ought to know I leave those things to _you_," said Mr.
+Longcluse, staring at him more aghast and fierce than the possible
+mislaying of a boot would seem to warrant. "Did you see Armagnac's man?"
+
+"No, Sir. It was Charles who came up, at eight o'clock, when you were
+still asleep, and said the shoemaker had called for the right boot of
+the pair you wore yesterday. I had placed them outside the door, and I
+gave it him, Sir, supposing it all right."
+
+"Perhaps it _was_ all right; but you know Charles has not been a week
+here. Call him up. I'll come to the bottom of this."
+
+Franklin disappeared, and Mr. Longcluse, with a stern frown, was staring
+vaguely at the varnished boot, as if it could tell something about its
+missing companion. His brain was already at work. What the plague was
+the meaning of this manœuvre about his boot? And why on earth, think I,
+should he make such a fuss and a tragedy about it? Charles followed Mr.
+Franklin up the stairs.
+
+"What's all this about my boot?" demanded Mr. Longcluse, peremptorily.
+"_Who_ has got it?"
+
+"A man called for it this morning, Sir."
+
+"What man?"
+
+"I think he said he came from Mr. Armagnac's, Sir."
+
+"You _think_. Say what you _know_, Sir. What _did_ he say?" said Mr.
+Longcluse, looking dangerous.
+
+"Well, Sir," said the man, mending his case, "he did say, Sir, he came
+from Mr. Armagnac's, and wanted the right boot."
+
+"What right boot?--_any_ right boot?"
+
+"No, Sir, please; the right boot of the pair you wore last night,"
+answered the servant.
+
+"And _you_ gave it to him?"
+
+"Yes, Sir, 'twas me," answered Charles.
+
+"Well, you mayn't be quite such a fool as you look. I'll sift all this
+to the bottom. You go, if you please, this moment, to Monsieur Armagnac,
+and say I should be obliged to him for a line to say whether he this
+morning sent for my boot, and got it--and I must have it back, mind;
+_you_ shall bring it back, you understand? And you had better make
+haste."
+
+"I made bold, Sir," said Mr. Franklin, "to send for it myself, when you
+sent me down for Charles; and the boy will be back, Sir, in two or three
+minutes."
+
+"Well, come you and Charles here again when the boy comes back, and
+bring him here also. I'll make out who has been playing tricks."
+
+Mr. Longcluse shut his dressing-room door sharply; he walked to the
+window, and looked out with a vicious scowl; he turned about, and lifted
+up his clenched hand, and stamped on the floor. A sudden thought now
+struck him.
+
+"The right foot? By Jove! it may not be the one."
+
+The boot that was left was already in his hand. He was examining it
+curiously.
+
+"Ay, by heaven! The right _was_ the boot! What's the meaning of this?
+Conspiracy? I should not wonder."
+
+He examined it carefully again, and flung it into its corner with
+violence.
+
+"If it's an accident, it is a very odd one. It is a suspicious accident.
+It may be, of course, all right. I daresay it _is_ all right. The odds
+are ten, twenty, a thousand to one that Armagnac has got it. I should
+have had a warm bath last night, and taken a ten miles' ride into the
+country this morning. It must be all right, and I am plaguing myself
+without a cause."
+
+Yet he took up the boot, and examined it once more; then, dropping it,
+went to the window and looked into the street--came back, opened his
+door, and listened for the messenger's return.
+
+It was not long deferred. As he heard them approach, Mr. Longcluse flung
+open his door and confronted them, in white waistcoat and shirt-sleeves,
+and with a very white and stern face--face and figure all white.
+
+"Well, what about it? Where's the boot?" he demanded, sharply.
+
+"The boy inquired, Sir," said Mr. Franklin, indicating the messenger
+with his open hand, and undertaking the office of spokesman; "and Mr.
+Armagnac did not send for the boot, Sir, and has not got it."
+
+"Oh, oh! very good. And now, Sir," he said, in rising fury, turning upon
+Charles, "what have _you_ got to say for yourself?"
+
+"The man said he came from Mr. Armagnac, please, Sir," said Charles,
+"and wanted the boot, which Mr. Franklin should have back as early as he
+could return it."
+
+"Then you gave it to a common thief with that cock-and-a-bull story, and
+you wish me to believe that you took it all for gospel. There are men
+who would pitch you over the bannisters for a less thing. If I could be
+certain of it, I'd put you beside him in the dock. But, by heavens! I'll
+come to the bottom of the whole thing yet."
+
+He shut the door with a crash, in the faces of the three men, who stood
+on the lobby.
+
+Mr. Franklin was a little puzzled at these transports, all about a boot.
+The servants looked at one another without a word. But just as they were
+going down, the dressing-room door opened, and the following dialogue
+ensued:--
+
+"See, Charles, it was you who saw and spoke with that man?" said
+Longcluse.
+
+"Yes, Sir."
+
+"Should you know him again?"
+
+"Yes, Sir, I think I should."
+
+"What kind of man was he?"
+
+"A very common person, Sir."
+
+"Was he tall or short? What sort of figure?"
+
+"Tall, Sir."
+
+"Go on; what more? Describe him."
+
+"Tall, Sir, with a long neck, and held himself straight; very flat feet,
+I noticed; a thin man, broad in the shoulders--pretty well that."
+
+"Describe his face," said Longcluse.
+
+"Nothing very particular, Sir; a shabby sort of face--a bad colour."
+
+"How?"
+
+"A bad white, Sir, and pock-marked something; a broad face and flat, and
+a very little bit of a nose; his eyes almost shut, and a sort of smile
+about his mouth, and stingy bits of red whiskers, in a curl, down each
+cheek."
+
+"How old?"
+
+"He might be nigh fifty, Sir."
+
+"Ha, ha! very good. How was he dressed?"
+
+"Black frock coat, Sir, a good deal worn; an old flowered satin
+waistcoat, worn and dirty, Sir; and a pair of raither dirty tweed
+trousers. Nothing fitted him, and his hat was brown and greasy, begging
+your parding, Sir; and he had a stick in his hand, and cotton
+gloves--a-trying to look genteel."
+
+"And he asked for the right boot?" asked Mr. Longcluse.
+
+"Yes, Sir."
+
+"You are quite sure of that? Did he take the boot without looking at it,
+or did he examine it before he took it away?"
+
+"He looked at it sharp enough, Sir, and turned up the sole, and he said
+'It's all right,' and he went away, taking it along with him."
+
+"He asked for the boot I wore yesterday, or last night--which did he
+say?" asked Mr. Longcluse.
+
+"I think it was last night he said, Sir," answered Charles.
+
+"Try to recollect yourself. Can't you be certain? Which was it?"
+
+"I think it was _last night_, Sir, he said."
+
+"It doesn't signify," said Mr. Longcluse; "I wanted to see that your
+memory was pretty clear on the subject. You seem to remember all that
+passed pretty accurately."
+
+"I recollect it perfectly well, Sir."
+
+"H'm! That will do. Franklin, you'll remember that description--let
+every one of you remember it. It is the description of a thief; and when
+you see that fellow again, hold him fast till you put him in the hands
+of a policeman. And, Charles, you must be prepared, d'ye see, to swear
+to that description; for I am going to the detective office, and I shall
+give it to the police."
+
+"Yes, Sir," answered Charles.
+
+"I sha'n't want you, Franklin; let some one call a cab."
+
+So he returned to his dressing-room, and shut the door, and
+thought--"That's the fellow whom that miserable little fool, Lebas,
+pointed out to me at the saloon last night. He watched him, he said,
+wherever he went. _I_ saw him. There may be other circumstances. That is
+the fellow--that is the very man. Here's matter to think over! By
+heaven! that fellow must be denounced, and discovered, and brought to
+justice. It is a strong case--a pretty hanging case against him. We
+shall see."
+
+Full of surmises about his lost boot, _Atra Cura_ walking unheard behind
+him, with her cold hand on his shoulder, and with the image of the
+ex-detective always gliding before or beside him, and peering with an
+odious familiarity over his shoulder into his face, Mr. Longcluse
+marched eastward with a firm tread and a cheerful countenance. Friends
+who nodded to him, as he walked along Piccadilly, down Saint James's
+Street, and by Pall Mall, citywards, thought he had just been listening
+to an amusing story. Others, who, more deferentially, saluted the great
+man as he walked lightly by Temple Bar, towards Ludgate Hill, for a
+moment perplexed themselves with the thought, "What stock is up, and
+what down, on a sudden, to-day, that Longcluse looks so radiant?"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IX.
+
+THE MAN WITHOUT A NAME.
+
+
+Mr. Longcluse had made up his mind to a certain course--a sharp and bold
+one. At the police office he made inquiry. "He understood a man had been
+lately dismissed from the force, answering to a certain description,
+which he gave them; and he wished to know whether he was rightly
+informed, because a theft had been that morning committed at his house
+by a man whose appearance corresponded, and against whom he hoped to
+have sufficient evidence."
+
+"Yes, a man like that had been dismissed from the detective department
+within the last fortnight."
+
+"What was his name?" Mr. Longcluse asked.
+
+"Paul Davies, Sir."
+
+"If it should turn out to be the same, I may have a more serious charge
+to bring against him," said Mr. Longcluse.
+
+"Do you wish to go before his worship, and give an information, Sir?"
+urged the officer, invitingly.
+
+"Not quite ripe for that yet," said Mr. Longcluse, "but it is likely
+very soon."
+
+"And what might be the nature of the more serious charge, Sir?" inquired
+the officer, insinuatingly.
+
+"I mean to give my evidence at the coroner's inquest that will be held
+to-day, on the Frenchman who was murdered last night at the Saloon
+Tavern. It is not conclusive--it does not fix anything upon him; it is
+merely inferential."
+
+"Connecting him with the murder?" whispered the man, something like
+reverence mingling with his curiosity, as he discovered the interesting
+character of his interrogator.
+
+"I can only say possibly connecting him in some way with it. Where does
+the man live?"
+
+"He did live in Rosemary Court, but he left that, I think. I'll ask, if
+you please, Sir. Tompkins--hi! You know where Paul Davies puts up. Left
+Rosemary Court?"
+
+"Yes, five weeks. He went to Gold Ring Alley, but he's left that a week
+ago, and I don't know where he is now, but will easy find him. Will it
+answer at eight this evening, Sir?"
+
+"Quite. I want a servant of mine to have a sight of him," said
+Longcluse.
+
+"If you like, Sir, to leave your address and a stamp, we'll send you the
+information by post, and save you calling here."
+
+"Thanks, yes, I'll do that."
+
+So Mr. Longcluse took his leave, and proceeded to the place where the
+coroner was sitting. Mr. Longcluse was received in that place with
+distinction. The moneyed man was honoured--eyes were gravely fixed on
+him, and respectful whispers went about. A seat was procured for him;
+and his evidence, when he came to give it, was heard with marked
+attention, and a general hush of expectation.
+
+                   *       *       *       *       *
+
+The reader, with his permission, must now pass away, seaward, from this
+smoky London, for a few minutes, into a clear air, among the rustling
+foliage of ancient trees, and the fragrance of hay-fields, and the song
+of small birds.
+
+On the London and Dover road stands, as you know, the "Royal Oak," still
+displaying its ancient signboard, where you behold King Charles II
+sitting with laudable composure, and a crown of Dutch gold on his head,
+and displaying his finery through an embrasure in the foliage, with an
+ostentation somewhat inconsiderate, considering the proximity of the
+halberts of the military emissaries in search of him to the royal
+features. As you drive towards London, it shows at the left side of the
+road, a good old substantial inn and posting-house. Its business has
+dwindled to something very small indeed, for the traffic prefers the
+rail, and the once bustling line of road is now quiet. The sun had set,
+but a reflected glow from the sky was still over everything; and by this
+somewhat lurid light Mr. Truelock, the innkeeper, was observing from the
+steps the progress of a chaise, with four horses and two postilions,
+which was driving at a furious pace down the gentle declivity about a
+quarter of a mile away, from the Dover direction towards the "Royal Oak"
+and London.
+
+"It's a runaway. Them horses has took head. What do you think, Thomas?"
+he asked of the old waiter who stood beside him.
+
+"No. See, the post-boys is whipping the hosses. No, Sir, it's a gallop,
+but no runaway."
+
+"There's luggage a' top?" said the innkeeper.
+
+"Yes, Sir, there's something," answered Tom.
+
+"I don't see nothing a-followin' them," said Mr. Truelock, shading his
+eyes with his hand as he gazed.
+
+"No--there _is_ nothing," said Tom.
+
+"They're in fear o' summat, or they'd never go at that lick," observed
+Mr. Truelock, who was inwardly conjecturing the likelihood of their
+pulling up at his door.
+
+"Lawk! _there_ was a jerk. They _was_ nigh over at the finger-post
+turn," said Tom, with a grin.
+
+And now the vehicle and the reeking horses were near. The post-boys held
+up their whips by way of signal to the "Royal Oak" people on the steps,
+and pulled up the horses with all their force before the door.
+Trembling, snorting, rolling up wreaths of steam, the exhausted horses
+stood.
+
+"See to the gentleman, will ye?" cried one of the postilions.
+
+Mr. Truelock, with the old-fashioned politeness of the English
+innkeeper, had run down in person to the carriage door, which Tom had
+opened. Master and man were a little shocked to behold inside an old
+gentleman, with a very brown, or rather a very bilious visage, thin, and
+with a high nose, who looked, as he lay stiffly back in the corner of
+the carriage, enveloped in shawls, with a velvet cap on, as if he were
+either dead or in a fit. His eyes were half open, and nothing but the
+white balls partly visible. There was a little froth at his lips. His
+mouth and delicately-formed hands were clenched, and all the furrows and
+lines of a selfish face fixed, as it seemed, in the lock of death. John
+Truelock said not a word, but peered at this visitor with a horrible
+curiosity.
+
+"If he's dead," whispered Tom in his ear, "we don't take in no dead men
+here. Ye'll have the coroner and his jury in the house, and the place
+knocked up-side down; and if ye make five pounds one way ye'll lose ten
+the tother."
+
+"Ye'll have to take him on, I'm thinkin'," said Mr. Truelock, rousing
+himself, stepping back a little, and addressing the post-boys sturdily.
+"You've no business bringin' a deceased party to my house. You must go
+somewhere else, if so be he _is_ deceased."
+
+"He's not gone dead so quick as that," said the postilion, dismounting
+from the near leader, and throwing the bridle to a boy who stood by, as
+he strutted round bandily to have a peep into the chaise. The postilion
+on the "wheeler" had turned himself about in the saddle in order to have
+a peep through the front window of the carriage. The innkeeper returned
+to the door.
+
+If the old London and Dover road had been what it once was, there would
+have been a crowd about the carriage by this time. Except, however, two
+or three servants of the "Royal Oak," who had come out to see, no one
+had yet joined the little group but the boy who was detained, bridle in
+hand, at the horse's head.
+
+"He'll not be dead yet," repeated the postilion dogmatically.
+
+"What happened him?" asked Mr. Truelock.
+
+"I don't know," answered the post-boy.
+
+"Then how can you say whether he be dead or no?" demanded the innkeeper.
+
+"Fetch me a pint of half-and-half," said the dismounted post-boy, aside,
+to one of the "Royal Oak" people at his elbow.
+
+"We was just at this side of High Hixton," said his brother in the
+saddle, "when he knocked at the window with his stick, and I got a cove
+to hold the bridle, and I came round to the window to him. He had scarce
+any voice in him, and looked awful bad, and he said he thought he was
+a-dying. 'And how far on is the next inn?' he asked; and I told him the
+'Royal Oak' was two miles; and he said, 'Drive like lightning, and I'll
+give you half a guinea a-piece'--I hope he's not gone dead--'if you get
+there in time.'"
+
+By this time their heads were in the carriage again.
+
+"Do you notice a sort of a little jerk in his foot, just the least thing
+in the world?" inquired the landlord, who had sent for the doctor. "It
+will be a fit, after all. If he's living, we'll fetch him into the
+'ouse."
+
+The doctor's house was just round the corner of the road, where the
+clump of elms stands, little more than a hundred yards from the sign of
+the "Royal Oak."
+
+"Who is he?" inquired Mr. Truelock.
+
+"I don't know," answered the postilion.
+
+"What's his name?"
+
+"Don't know that, neither."
+
+"Why, it'll be on that box, won't it?" urged the innkeeper, pointing to
+the roof, where a portmanteau with a glazed cover was secured.
+
+"Nothing on that but 'R. A.,'" answered the man, who had examined it
+half an hour before, with the same object.
+
+"Royal Artillery, eh?"
+
+While they were thus conjecturing, the doctor arrived. He stepped into
+the chaise, felt the old man's hand, tried his pulse, and finally
+applied the stethoscope.
+
+"It is a nervous seizure. He is in a very exhausted state," said the
+doctor, stepping out again, and addressing Truelock. "You must get him
+into bed, and don't let his head down; take off his handkerchief, and
+open his shirt-collar--do you mind? I had best arrange him myself."
+
+So the forlorn old man, without a servant, without a name, is carried
+from the chaise, possibly to die in an inn.
+
+The Rev. Peter Sprott, the rector, passing that way a few minutes later,
+and hearing what had befallen, went up to the bed-room, where the old
+gentleman lay in a four-poster, still unconscious.
+
+"Here's a case," said the doctor to his clerical friend. "A nervous
+attack. He'd be all right in no time, but he's so low. I daresay he
+crossed the herring-pond to-day, and was ill; he's in such an exhausted
+state. I should not wonder if he sank; and here we are, without a clue
+to his name or people. No servant, no name on his trunk; and, certainly,
+it would be awkward if he died unrecognised, and without a word to
+apprise his relations."
+
+"Is there no letter in his pockets?"
+
+"Not one," Truelock says.
+
+The rector happened to take up the great-coat of the old gentleman, in
+which he found a small breast pocket, that had been undiscovered till
+now, and in this a letter. The envelope was gone, but the letter, in a
+lady's hand began: "My dearest papa."
+
+"We are all right, by Jove, we're in luck!"
+
+"How does she sign herself?" said the doctor.
+
+"'Alice Arden,' and she dates from 8, Chester Terrace," answered the
+clergyman.
+
+"We'll telegraph forthwith," said the doctor. "It had best be in your
+name--the clergyman, you know--to a young lady."
+
+So together they composed the telegram.
+
+"Shall it be _ill_ simply, or _dangerously_ ill?" inquired the
+clergyman.
+
+"Dangerously," said the doctor.
+
+"But _dangerously_ may terrify her."
+
+"And if we say only _ill_, she mayn't come at all," said the doctor.
+
+So the telegram was placed in Truelock's hands, who went himself with it
+to the office; and we shall follow it to its destination.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER X.
+
+THE ROYAL OAK.
+
+
+Three people were sitting in Lady May Penrose's drawing-room, in Chester
+Terrace, the windows of which, as all her ladyship's friends are aware,
+command one of the parks. They were looking westward, where the sky was
+all a-glow with the fantastic gold and crimson of sunset. It is quite a
+mistake to fancy that sunset, even in the heart of London--which this
+hardly could be termed--has no rural melancholy and poetic fascination
+in it. Should that hour by any accident overtake you, in the very centre
+of the city, looking, say, from an upper window, or any other elevation
+toward the western sky beyond stacks of chimneys, roofs, and steeples,
+even through the smoke of London, you will feel the melancholy and
+poetry of sunset, in spite of your surroundings.
+
+A little silence had stolen over the party; and young Vivian Darnley,
+who stole a glance now and then at beautiful Alice Arden, whose large,
+dark, grey eyes were gazing listlessly towards the splendid mists, that
+were piled in the west, broke the silence by a remark that, without
+being very wise, or very new, was yet, he hoped, quite in accord with
+the looks of the girl, who seemed for a moment saddened.
+
+"I wonder why it is that sunset, which is so beautiful, makes us all
+sad!"
+
+"It never made me sad," said good Lady May Penrose, comfortably. "There
+is, I think, something very pleasant in a good sunset; there _must_ be,
+for all the little birds begin to sing in it--it must be cheerful. Don't
+you think so, Alice?"
+
+Alice was, perhaps, thinking of something quite different, for rather
+listlessly, and without a change of features, she said, "Oh, yes, very."
+
+"So, Mr. Darnley, you may sing, 'Oh, leave me to my sorrow!' for we
+won't mope with you about the sky. It is a very odd taste, that for
+being dolorous and miserable. I don't understand it--I never could."
+
+Thus rebuked by Lady Penrose, and deserted by Alice, Darnley laughed and
+said--
+
+"Well, I do seem rather to have put my foot in it--but I did not mean
+miserable, you know; I meant only that kind of thing that one feels when
+reading a bit of really good poetry--and most people do not think it a
+rather pleasant feeling."
+
+"Don't mind that moping creature, Alice; let us talk about something we
+can all understand. I heard a bit of news to-day--perhaps, Mr. Darnley,
+you can throw a light upon it. You are a distant relation, I think, of
+Mr. David Arden."
+
+"Some very remote cousinship, of which I am very proud," answered the
+young man gaily, with a glance at Alice.
+
+"And what is that--what about uncle David?" inquired the young lady,
+with animation.
+
+"I heard it from my banker to-day. Your uncle, you know, dear, despises
+us and our doings, and lives, I understand, very quietly; I mean, he has
+chosen to live quite out of the world, so we have no chance of hearing
+anything except by accident, from people we are likely to know. Do you
+see much of your uncle, my dear?"
+
+"Not a great deal; but I am very fond of him--he is such a good man, or
+at least, what is better," she laughed, "he has always been so very kind
+to me."
+
+"You know him, Mr. Darnley?" inquired Lady May.
+
+"By Jove, I do!"
+
+"And like him?"
+
+"No one on earth has better reason to like him," answered the young man
+warmly--"he has been my best friend on earth."
+
+"It is pleasant to know two people who are not ashamed to be grateful,"
+said fat Lady May, with a smile.
+
+The young lady returned her smile very kindly. I don't think you ever
+beheld a prettier creature than Alice Arden. Vivian Darnley had wasted
+many a secret hour in sketching that oval face. Those large, soft, grey
+eyes, and long dark lashes, how difficult they are to express! And the
+brilliant lips! Could art itself paint anything quite like her? Who
+could paint those beautiful dimples that made her smiles so soft, or
+express the little circlet of pearly teeth whose tips were just
+disclosed? Stealthily he was now, for the thousandth time, studying that
+bewitching smile again.
+
+"And what is the story about Uncle David?" asked Alice again.
+
+"Well, what will you say--and you, Mr. Darnley, if it should be a story
+about a young lady?"
+
+"Do you mean that Uncle David is going to marry? I think it would be an
+awful pity!" exclaimed Alice.
+
+"Well, dear, to put you out of pain, I'll tell you at once; I only know
+this--that he is going to provide for her somehow, but whether by
+adopting her as a child, or taking her for a wife, I can't tell. Only I
+never saw any one looking archer than Mr. Brounker did to-day when he
+told me; and I fancied from that it could not be so dull a business as
+merely making her his daughter."
+
+"And who is the young lady?" asked Alice.
+
+"Did you ever happen to meet anywhere a Miss Grace Maubray?"
+
+"Oh, yes," answered Alice quickly. "She was staying, and her father,
+Colonel Maubray, at the Wymerings' last autumn. She's quite lovely, I
+think, and very clever--but I don't know--I think she's a little
+ill-natured, but very amusing. She seems to have a talent for cutting
+people up--and a little of that kind of thing, you know, is very well,
+but one does not care for it _always_. And is she really the young
+lady?"
+
+"Yes, and---- Dear me! Mr. Darnley, I'm afraid my story has alarmed
+you."
+
+"Why should it?" laughed Vivian Darnley, partly to cover, perhaps, a
+little confusion.
+
+"I can't tell, I'm sure, but you blushed as much as a man can; and you
+know you did. I wonder, Alice, what this under-plot can be, where all is
+so romantic. Perhaps, after all, Mr. David Arden is to adopt the young
+lady, and some one else, to whom he is also kind, is to marry her. Don't
+you think that would be a very natural arrangement?"
+
+Alice laughed, and Darnley laughed; but he was embarrassed.
+
+"And Colonel Maubray, is he still living?" asked Alice.
+
+"Oh, no, dear; he died ten or eleven months ago. A very foolish man, you
+know; he wasted a very good property. He was some distant relation,
+also; Mr. Brounker said your uncle, Mr. David Arden, was very much
+attached to him--they were schoolfellows, and great friends all their
+lives."
+
+"I should not wonder," said Alice smiling--and then became silent.
+
+"Do you know the young lady, this fortunate Miss Maubray?" said Lady
+May, turning to Vivian Darnley again.
+
+"I? Yes--that is, I can't say more than a mere acquaintance--and not an
+old one. I made her acquaintance at Mr. Arden's house. He is her
+guardian. I don't know about any other arrangements. I daresay there may
+be."
+
+"Well, I know her a little, also," said Lady May. "I thought her
+pretty--and she sings a little, and she's clever."
+
+"She's all that," said Alice. "Oh, here comes Dick! What do you say,
+Richard--is not Miss Maubray very pretty? We are making a plot to marry
+her to Vivian Darnley, and get Uncle David to contribute her _dot_."
+
+"What benevolent people! _You_ don't object, I dare say, Vivian."
+
+"I have not been consulted," said he; "and, of course, Uncle David need
+not be consulted, as he has simply to transfer the proper quantity of
+stock."
+
+Richard Arden had drawn near Lady May, and said a few words in a low
+tone, which seemed not unwelcome to her.
+
+"I saw Longcluse this morning. He has not been here, has he?" he added,
+as a little silence threatened the conversation.
+
+"No, he has not turned up. And what a charming person he is!" exclaimed
+Lady May.
+
+"I quite agree with you, Lady May," said Arden. "He is, take him on
+every subject, I think, about the cleverest fellow I ever met--art,
+literature, games, _chess_, which I take to be a subject by itself. He
+is very great at chess--for an amateur, I mean--and when I was
+chess-mad, nearly a year ago and beginning to grow conceited, he opened
+my eyes, I can tell you; and Airly says he is the best musical critic in
+England, and can tell you at any hour who is who in the opera, all over
+Europe; and he really understands, what so few of us here know anything
+about, foreign politics, and all the people and their stories and
+scandals he has at his fingers' ends. And he is such good company, when
+he chooses, and such a gentleman always!"
+
+"He is very agreeable and amusing when he takes the trouble; I always
+like to listen when Mr. Longcluse talks," said Alice Arden, to the
+secret satisfaction of her brother, whose enthusiasm was, I think,
+directed a good deal to her--and to, perhaps, the vexation of other
+people, whom she did not care at that moment to please.
+
+"An Admirable Crichton!" murmured Vivian Darnley, with a rather
+hackneyed sneer. "Do you like his style of--_beauty_, I suppose I should
+call it? It has the merit of being very uncommon, at least, don't you
+think?"
+
+"Beauty, I think, matters very little. He has no beauty, but his face
+has what, in a man, I think a great deal better--I mean refinement, and
+cleverness, and a kind of satire that rather interests one," said Miss
+Arden, with animation.
+
+Sir Walter Scott, in his "Rob Roy"--thinking, no doubt, of the Diana
+Vernon of his early days, the then beautiful lady, long afterwards
+celebrated by Basil Hall as the old Countess Purgstorf (if I rightly
+remember the title), and recurring to some cherished incident, and the
+thrill of a pride that had ceased to agitate, but was at once pleasant
+and melancholy to remember--wrote these words: "She proceeded to read
+the first stanza, which was nearly to the following purpose. [Then
+follow the verses.] 'There is a great deal of it,' said she, glancing
+along the paper, and interrupting the sweetest sounds that mortal ears
+can drink in--those of a youthful poet's verses, namely, read by the
+lips which are dearest to them." So writes Walter Scott. On the other
+hand, in certain states, is there a pain intenser than that of listening
+to the praises of another man from the lips we love?
+
+"Well," said Darnley, "as you say so, I suppose there is all that,
+though I can't see it. Of course, if he tries to make himself agreeable
+(which he never does to me), it makes a difference, it affects
+everything--it affects even his looks. But I should not have thought him
+good-looking. On the contrary, he appears to me about as ugly a fellow
+as one could see in a day."
+
+"He's not that," said Alice. "No one could be ugly with so much
+animation and so much expression."
+
+"You take up the cudgels very prettily, my dear, for Mr. Longcluse,"
+said Lady May. "I'm sure he ought to be extremely obliged to you."
+
+"So he would be," said Richard Arden. "It would upset him for a week, I
+have no doubt."
+
+There are few things harder to interpret than a blush. At these words
+the beautiful face of Alice Arden flushed, first with a faint, and then,
+as will happen, with a brighter crimson. If Lady May had seen it, she
+would have laughed, probably, and told her how much it became her. But
+she was, at that moment, going to her chair in the window, and Richard
+Arden would, of course, accompany her. He did see it, as distinctly as
+he saw the glow in the sky over the park trees. But, knowing what a
+slight matter will sometimes make a recoil, and even found an antipathy,
+he wisely chose to see it not--and chatting gaily, followed Lady May to
+the window.
+
+But Vivian Darnley, though he said nothing, saw that blush, of which
+Alice, with a sort of haughty defiance, was conscious. It did not make
+him like or admire Mr. Longcluse more.
+
+"Well, I suppose he is very charming--I don't know him well enough
+myself to give an opinion. But he makes his acquaintances rather oddly,
+doesn't he? I don't think any one will dispute that."
+
+"I don't know really. Lady May introduced him to me, and she seems to
+like him very much. So far as I can see, people are very well pleased at
+knowing him, and don't trouble their heads as to how it came about,"
+said Miss Arden.
+
+"No, of course; but people not fortunate enough to come within the
+influence of his fascination, can't help observing. How did he come to
+know your brother, for instance? Did any one introduce him? Nothing of
+the kind. Richard's horse was hurt or lame at one of the hunts in
+Warwickshire, and he lent him a horse, and introduced himself, and they
+dined together that evening on the way back, and so the thing was done."
+
+"Can there be a better introduction than a kindness?" asked Alice.
+
+"Yes, where it _is_ a kindness, I agree; but no one has a right to push
+his services upon a stranger who does not ask for them."
+
+"I really can't see. Richard need not have taken his horse if he had not
+liked," she answered.
+
+"And Lady May, who thinks him such a paragon, knows no more about him
+than any one else. She had her footman behind her--didn't she tell you
+all about it?"
+
+"I really don't recollect; but does it very much matter?"
+
+"I think it does--that is, it has been a sort of system. He just gave
+her his arm over a crossing, where she had taken fright, and then
+pretended to think her a great deal more frightened than she really can
+have been, and made her sit down to recover in a confectioner's shop,
+and so saw her home, and _that_ affair was concluded. I don't say, of
+course, that he is never introduced in the regular way; but a year or
+two ago, when he was beginning, he always made his approaches by means
+of that kind of stratagem; and the fact is, no one knows anything on
+earth about him; he has emerged, like a figure in a phantasmagoria, from
+total darkness, and may lose himself in darkness again at any moment."
+
+"I am interested in that man, whoever he is; his entrance, and his
+probable exit, so nearly resemble mine," said a clear, deep-toned voice
+close to them; and looking up, Miss Arden saw the pale face and peculiar
+smile of Mr. Longcluse in the fading twilight.
+
+Mr. Longcluse was greeted by Lady May and by Richard Arden, and then
+again he drew near Alice, and said, "Do you recollect, Miss Arden, about
+ten days ago I told you a story that seemed to interest you--the story
+of a young and eloquent friar, who died of love in his cell in an abbey
+in the Tyrol, and whose ghost used to be seen pensively leaning on the
+pulpit from which he used to preach, too much thinking of the one
+beautiful face among his audience, which had enthralled him. I had left
+the enamel portrait I told you of at an artist's in Paris, and I wrote
+for it, thinking you might wish to see it--hoping you might care to see
+it," he added, in a lower tone, observing that Vivian Darnley, who was
+not in a happy temper, had, with a sudden impulse of disdain, removed
+himself to another window, there to contemplate the muster of the stars
+in the darkening sky, at his leisure.
+
+"That was so kind of you, Mr. Longcluse! You have had a great deal of
+trouble. It _is_ such an interesting story!" said Alice.
+
+In his reception, Mr. Longcluse found something that pleased, almost
+elated him. Had Richard Arden been speaking to her on the subject of
+their morning's conversation? He thought not, Lady May had mentioned
+that he had not been with them till just twenty minutes ago, and Arden
+had told him that he had dined with his uncle David and Mr. Blount, upon
+the same business on which he had been occupied with both nearly all
+day. No, he could not have spoken to her. The slight change which made
+him so tumultuously proud and happy, was entirely spontaneous.
+
+"So it seemed to me--an eccentric and interesting story--but pray do not
+wound me by speaking of trouble. I only wish you knew half the pleasure
+it has been to me to get it to show you. May I hold the lamp near for a
+moment while you look at it?" he said, indicating a tiny lamp which
+stood on a pier-table, showing a solitary gleam, like a lighthouse,
+through the gloom; "you could not possibly see it in this faint
+twilight."
+
+The lady assented. Had Mr. Longcluse ever felt happier?
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XI.
+
+THE TELEGRAM ARRIVES.
+
+
+Mr. Longcluse placed the little oval enamel, set in gold, in Miss
+Arden's fingers, and held the lamp beside her while she looked.
+
+"How beautiful!--how very interesting!" she exclaimed. "What suffering
+in those thin, handsome features! What a strange enthusiasm in those
+large hazel eyes! I could fancy that monk the maddest of lovers, the
+most chivalric of saints. And did he really suffer that incredible fate?
+Did he really die of love?"
+
+"So they say. But why incredible? I can quite imagine that wild
+shipwreck, seeing what a raging sea love is, and how frail even the
+strongest life."
+
+"Well, I can't say, I am sure. But your own novelists laugh at the idea
+of any but women--whose business it is, of course, to pay that tribute
+to their superiors--dying of love. But if any man could die such a
+death, he must be such as this picture represents. What a wild, agonised
+picture of passion and asceticism! What suicidal devotion and melancholy
+rapture! I confess I could almost fall in love with that picture
+myself."
+
+"And I think, were I he, I could altogether die to earn one such
+sentence, so spoken," said Mr. Longcluse.
+
+"Could you lend it to me for a very few days?" asked the young lady.
+
+"As many--as long as you please. I am only too happy."
+
+"I should so like to make a large drawing of this in chalks!" said
+Alice, still gazing on the miniature.
+
+"You draw so beautifully in chalks! Your style is not often found
+here--your colouring is so fine."
+
+"Do you really think so?"
+
+"You must know it, Miss Arden. You are too good an artist not to suspect
+what everyone else must see, the real excellence of your drawings. Your
+colouring is better understood in France. Your master, I fancy, was a
+Frenchman?" said Mr. Longcluse.
+
+"Yes, he was, and we got on very well together. Some of his young lady
+pupils were very much afraid of him."
+
+"Your poetry is fired by that picture, Miss Arden. Your copy will be a
+finer thing than the original," said he.
+
+"I shall aim only at making it a faithful copy; and if I can accomplish
+anything like that, I shall be only too glad."
+
+"I hope you will allow me to see it?" pleaded Longcluse.
+
+"Oh, certainly," she laughed. "Only I'm a little afraid of you, Mr.
+Longcluse."
+
+"What can you mean, Miss Arden?"
+
+"I mean, you are so good a critic in art, every one says, that I really
+_am_ afraid of you," answered the young lady, laughing.
+
+"I should be very glad to forfeit any little knowledge I have, if it
+were attended with such a misfortune," said Longcluse. "But I don't
+flatter; I tell you truly, a critic has only to admire, when he looks at
+your drawings; they are quite above the level of an amateur's work."
+
+"Well, whether you mean it or not, I _am_ very much flattered," she
+laughed. "And though wise people say that flattery spoils one, I can't
+help thinking it very agreeable to be flattered."
+
+At this point of the dialogue Mr. Vivian Darnley--who wished that it
+should be plain to all, and to one in particular, that he did not care
+the least what was going on in other parts of the room--began to stumble
+through the treble of a tune at the piano with his right hand. And
+whatever other people may have thought of his performance, to Miss Alice
+Arden it seemed very good music indeed, and inspired her with fresh
+animation. Such as it was, Mr. Darnley's solo also turned the course of
+Miss Arden's thoughts from drawing to another art, and she said--
+
+"You, Mr. Longcluse, who know everything about the opera, can you tell
+me--of course you can--anything about the great basso who is coming?"
+
+"Stentoroni?"
+
+"Yes; the newspapers and critics promise wonders."
+
+"It is nearly two years since I heard him. He was very great, and
+deserves all they say in 'Robert le Diable.' But there his greatness
+began and ended. The voice, of course, you had, but everything else was
+defective. It is plain, however, that the man who could make so fine a
+study of one opera, could with equal labour make as great a success in
+others. He has not sung in any opera for more than a year and a half,
+and has been working diligently; and so everyone is in the dark very
+much, and I am curious to hear the result--and nobody knows more than I
+have told you. You are sure of a good 'Robert le Diable,' but all the
+rest is speculation."
+
+"And now, Mr. Longcluse, I shall try your good-nature."
+
+"How?"
+
+"I am going to make Lady May ask you to sing a song."
+
+"Pray don't."
+
+"Why not?"
+
+"I should so much rather you asked me yourself."
+
+"That's very good of you; then I certainly shall. I _do_ ask you."
+
+"And I instantly obey. And what shall the song be?" asked he,
+approaching the piano, to which she also walked.
+
+"Oh, that ghostly one that I liked so much when you sang it here about a
+week ago," she answered.
+
+"I know it--yes, with pleasure." And he sat down at the piano, and in a
+clear, rich baritone, sang the following odd song:--
+
+    "The autumn leaf was falling
+       At midnight from the tree,
+     When at her casement calling,
+       'I'm here, my love,' says he.
+     'Come down and mount behind me,
+       And rest your little head,
+     And in your white arms wind me,
+       Before that I be dead.
+
+    "'You've stolen my heart by magic,
+       I've kissed your lips in dreams:
+     Our wooing wild and tragic
+       Has been in ghostly scenes.
+     The wondrous love I bear you
+       Has made one life of twain,
+     And it will bless or scare you,
+       In deathless peace or pain.
+
+    "'Our dreamland shall be glowing,
+       If you my bride will be;
+     To darkness both are going,
+       Unless you come with me.
+     Come now, and mount behind me,
+       And rest your little head,
+     And in your white arms wind me,
+       Before that I be dead.'"
+
+"Why, dear Alice, will you choose that dismal song, when you know that
+Mr. Longcluse has so many others that are not only charming, but cheery
+and natural?"
+
+"It is because it is _un_natural that I like that song so much; the air
+is so ominous and spectral, and yet so passionate. I think the idea is
+Icelandic--those ghostly lovers that came in the dark to win their
+beloved maidens, who as yet knew nothing of their having died, to ride
+with them over the snowy fields and frozen rivers, to join their friends
+at a merry-making which they were never to see; but there is something
+more mysterious even in this lover, for his passion has unearthly
+beginnings that lose themselves in utter darkness. Thank you very much,
+Mr. Longcluse. It is so very kind of you! And now, Lady May, isn't it
+your turn to choose? May she choose, Mr. Longcluse?"
+
+"Any one, if you desire it, may choose anything I possess, and have it,"
+said he, in a low impassioned murmur.
+
+How the young lady would have taken this, I know not, but all were
+suddenly interrupted. For at this moment a servant entered with a note,
+which he presented, upon a salver, to Mr. Longcluse.
+
+"Your servant is waiting, Sir, please, for orders in the awl," murmured
+the man.
+
+"Oh, yes--thanks," said Mr. Longcluse, who saw a shabby letter, with the
+words "Private" and "Immediate" written in a round, vulgar hand over the
+address.
+
+"Pray read your note, Mr. Longcluse, and don't mind us," said Lady May.
+
+"Thank you very much. I think I know what this is. I gave some evidence
+to-day at an inquest," began Mr. Longcluse.
+
+"That wretched Frenchman," interposed Lady May, "Monsieur Lebrun or----"
+
+"Lebas," said Vivian Darnley.
+
+"Yes, so it was, Lebas; what a frightful thing that was!" continued Lady
+May, who was always well up in the day's horrors.
+
+"Very melancholy, and very alarming also. It is a selfish way of looking
+at it, but one can't help thinking it might just as well have happened
+to any one else who was there. It brings it home to one a little
+uncomfortably," said Mr. Longcluse, with an uneasy smile and a shrug.
+
+"And you actually gave evidence, Mr. Longcluse?" said Lady May.
+
+"Yes, a little," he answered. "It may lead to something. I hope so. As
+yet it only indicates a line of inquiry. It will be in the papers, I
+suppose, in the morning. There will be, I daresay, a pretty full report
+of that inquest."
+
+"Then you saw something occur that excited your suspicions?" said Lady
+May.
+
+Mr. Longcluse recounted all he had to tell, and mentioned having made
+inquiries as to the present abode of the man, Paul Davies, at the police
+office.
+
+"And this note, I daresay, is the one they promised to send me, telling
+the result of their inquiries," he added.
+
+"Pray open it and see," said Lady May.
+
+He did so. He read it in silence. From his foot to the crown of his head
+there crept a cold influence as he read. Stream after stream, this
+_aura_ of fear spread upwards to his brain. Pale Mr. Longcluse shrugged
+and smiled, and smiled and shrugged, as his dark eye ran down the lines,
+and with a careless finger he turned the page over. He smiled, as
+prizefighters smile for the spectators, while every nerve quivered with
+pain. He looked up, smiling still, and thrust the note into his
+breast-pocket.
+
+"Well, Mr. Longcluse, a long note it seems to have been," said Lady May,
+curiously.
+
+"Not very long, but what is as bad, very illegible," said Mr. Longcluse
+gaily.
+
+"And what about the man--the person the police were to have inquired
+after?" she persisted.
+
+"I find it is no police information, nothing of the kind," answered
+Longcluse with the same smile. "It comes by no means from one of that
+long-headed race of men; on the contrary, poor fellow, I believe he is
+literally a little mad. I make him a trifling present every Christmas,
+and that is a very good excuse for his plaguing me all the year round. I
+was in hopes this letter might turn out an amusing one, but it is not;
+it is a failure. It is rather sensible, and disgusting."
+
+"Well, then, I must have my song, Mr. Longcluse," said Lady May, who,
+under cover of music, sometimes talked a little, in gentle murmurs, to
+that person with whom talk was particularly interesting.
+
+But that song was not to be heard in Lady May's drawing-room that night,
+for a kindred interruption, though much more serious in its effects upon
+Mr. Longcluse's companions, occurred. A footman entered, and presented
+on a salver a large brown envelope to Miss Alice Arden.
+
+"Oh, dear! It is a telegram," exclaimed Miss Arden, who had taken it to
+the window. Lady May Penrose was beside her by this time. Alice looked
+on the point of fainting.
+
+"I'm afraid papa is very ill," she whispered, handing the paper, which
+trembled very much in her hand, to Lady May.
+
+"H'm! Yes--but you may be sure it's exaggerated. Bring some sherry and
+water, please. You look a little frightened, my dear. Sit down, darling.
+There now! These messages are always written in a panic. What do you
+mean to do?"
+
+"I'll go, of course," said Alice.
+
+"Well, yes--I think you must go. What is the place? Twyford, the 'Royal
+Oak?' Look out Twyford, please Mr. Darnley--there's a book there. It
+must be a post-town. It was thoughtful saying it is on the Dover coach
+road."
+
+Vivian Darnley was gazing in deep concern at Alice. Instantly he began
+turning over the book, and announced in a few moments more--"It is a
+post-town--only thirty-six miles from London," said Mr. Darnley.
+
+"Thanks," said Lady May. "Oh, here's the wine--I'm so glad! You must
+have a little, dear; and you'll take Louisa Diaper with you, of course;
+and you shall have one of my carriages, and I'll send a servant with
+you, and he'll arrange everything; and how soon do you wish to go?"
+
+"Immediately, instantly--thanks, darling. I'm _so_ much obliged!"
+
+"Will your brother go with you?"
+
+"No, dear. Papa, you know, has not forgiven him, and it is, I think, two
+years since they met. It would only agitate him."
+
+And with these words she hurried to her room, and in another moment,
+with the aid of her maid, was completing her hasty preparations.
+
+In wonderfully little time the carriage was at the door. Mr. Longcluse
+had taken his leave. So had Richard Arden, with the one direction to the
+servant, "If anything should go _very_ wrong, be sure to telegraph for
+me. Here is my address."
+
+"Put this in your purse, dear," said Lady May. "Your father is so
+thoughtless, he may not have brought money enough with him; and you will
+find it is as I say--he'll be a great deal better by the time you get
+there; and God bless you, my dear."
+
+And she kissed her as heartily as she dared, without communicating the
+rouge and white powder which aided her complexion.
+
+As Alice ran down, Vivian Darnley awaited her outside the drawing-room
+door, and ran down with her, and put her into the carriage. He leaned
+for a moment on the window, and said--
+
+"I hope you didn't mind that nonsense Lady May was talking just now
+about Miss Grace Maubray. I assure you it is utter folly. I was awfully
+vexed; but you didn't believe it?"
+
+"I didn't hear her say anything, at least seriously. Wasn't she
+laughing? I'm in such trouble about that message! I am so longing to be
+at my journey's end!"
+
+He took her hand and pressed it, and the carriage drove away. And
+standing on the steps, and quite forgetting the footman close behind
+him, he watched it as it drove rapidly southward, until it was quite out
+of sight, and then with a great sigh and "God for ever bless
+you!"--uttered not above his breath--he turned about, and saw those
+powdered and liveried effigies, and walked up with his head rather high
+to the drawing-room, where he found Lady May.
+
+"I sha'n't go to the opera to-night; it is out of the question," said
+she. "But _you_ shall. You go to my box, you know; Jephson will put you
+in there."
+
+It was plain that the good-natured soul was unhappy about Alice, and,
+Richard Arden having departed, wished to be alone. So Vivian took his
+leave, and went away--but not to the opera--and sauntered for an hour,
+instead, in a melancholy romance up and down the terrace, till the moon
+rose and silvered the trees in the park.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XII.
+
+SIR REGINALD ARDEN.
+
+
+The human mind being, in this respect, of the nature of a kaleidoscope,
+that the slightest hitch, or jolt, or tremor is enough to change the
+entire picture that occupies it, it is not to be supposed that the
+illness of her father, alarming as it was, could occupy Alice Arden's
+thoughts to the exclusion of every other subject, during every moment of
+her journey. One picture, a very pretty one, frequently presented
+itself, and always her heart felt a strange little pain as this pretty
+phantom appeared. It was the portrait of a young girl, with fair golden
+hair, a brilliant complexion, and large blue eyes, with something
+_riant_, triumphant, and arch to the verge of mischief, in her animated
+and handsome face.
+
+The careless words of good Lady May, this evening, and the very obvious
+confusion of Vivian Darnley at mention of the name of Grace Maubray,
+troubled her. What was more likely than that Uncle David, interested in
+both, should have seriously projected the union which Lady May had gaily
+suggested? If she--Alice Arden--liked Vivian Darnley, it was not very
+much, her pride insisted. In her childhood they had been thrown
+together. He had seemed to like her; but had he ever spoken? Why was he
+silent? Was she fool enough to like him?--that cautious, selfish young
+man, who was thinking, she was quite certain now, of a marriage of
+prudence or ambition with Grace Maubray? It was a cold, cruel, sordid
+world!
+
+But, after all, why should he have spoken? or why should he have hoped
+to be heard with favour? She had been to him, thank Heaven, just as any
+other pleasant, early friend. There was nothing to regret--nothing
+fairly to blame. It was just that a person whom she had come to regard
+as a property was about to go, and belong quite, to another. It was the
+foolish little jealousy that everyone feels, and that means nothing. So
+she told herself; but constantly recurred the same pretty image, and
+with it the same sudden little pain at her heart.
+
+But now came the other care. As time and space shorten, and the moment
+of decision draws near, the pain of suspense increases. They were within
+six miles of Twyford. Her heart was in a wild flutter--now throbbing
+madly, now it seemed standing still. The carriage window was down. She
+was looking out on the scenery--strange to her--all bright and serene
+under a brilliant moon. What message awaited her at the inn to which
+they were travelling at this swift pace? How frightful it might be!
+
+"Oh, Louisa!" she every now and then imploringly cried to her maid, "how
+do you think it will be? Oh! how will it be? Do you think he'll be
+better? Oh! do you think he'll be better? Tell me again about his other
+illness, and how he recovered? Don't you think he will this time? Oh,
+Louisa, darling! don't you think so? Tell me--_tell_ me you do!"
+
+Thus, in her panic, the poor girl wildly called for help and comfort,
+until at last the carriage turned a curve in the road at which stood a
+shadowy clump of elms, and in another moment the driver pulled up under
+the sign of the "Royal Oak."
+
+"Oh, Louisa! Here it is," cried the young lady, holding her maid's wrist
+with a trembling grasp.
+
+The inn-door was shut, but there was light in the hall, and light in an
+upper room.
+
+"Don't knock--only ring the bell. He may be asleep, God grant!" said the
+young lady.
+
+The door was quickly opened, and a waiter ran down to the carriage
+window, where he saw a pair of large wild eyes, and a very pale face,
+and heard the question--"An old gentlemen has been ill here, and a
+telegram was sent; is he--how is he?"
+
+"He's better, Ma'am," said the man.
+
+With a low, long "O--Oh!" and clasped hands and upturned eyes, she
+leaned back in the carriage, and a sudden flood of tears relieved her.
+Yes; he was a great deal better. The attack was quite over; but he had
+not spoken. He seemed much exhausted; and having swallowed some claret,
+which the doctor prescribed, he had sunk into a sound and healthy sleep,
+in which he still lay. A message by telegraph had been sent to announce
+the good news, but Alice was some way on her journey before it had
+reached.
+
+Now the young lady got down, and entered the homely old inn, followed by
+her maid. She could have dropped on her knees in gratitude to her Maker;
+but true religion, like true affection, is shy of demonstrating its
+fervours where sympathy is doubtful.
+
+Gently, hardly breathing, guided by the "chambermaid," she entered her
+father's room, and stood at his bedside. There he lay, yellow, lean, the
+lines of his face in repose still forbidding, the thin lips and thin
+nose looking almost transparent, and breathing deeply and regularly, as
+a child in his slumbers. In that face Alice could not discover what any
+stranger would have seen. She only saw the face of her father. Selfish
+and capricious as he was, and violent too--a wicked old man, if one
+could see him justly--he was yet proud of her, and had many schemes and
+projects afloat in his jaded old brain, of which her beauty was the
+talisman, of which she suspected nothing, and with which his head was
+never more busy than at the very moment when he was surprised by the
+_aura_ of his coming fit.
+
+The doctor's conjecture was right. He had crossed the Channel that
+morning. In his French _coupée_, he had for companion the very man he
+had most wished and contrived to travel homeward with. This was Lord
+Wynderbroke.
+
+Lord Wynderbroke was fifty years old and upwards. He was very much taken
+with Alice, whom he had met pretty often. He was a man who was thought
+likely to marry. His estate was in the nattiest order. He had always
+been prudent, and cultivated a character. He had, moreover, mortgages
+over Sir Reginald Arden's estate, the interest of which the baronet was
+beginning to find it next to impossible to pay. They had been making a
+little gouty visit to Vichy, and Sir Reginald had taken good care to
+make the journey homeward with Lord Wynderbroke, who knew that when he
+pleased he could be an amusing companion, and who also felt that kind of
+interest in him which everyone experiences in the kindred of the young
+lady of whom he is enamoured.
+
+The baronet, who tore up or burnt his letters for the most part, had
+kept this particular one by which his daughter had been traced and
+summoned to the "Royal Oak." It was, he thought, clever. It was amusing,
+and had some London gossip. He had read bits of it to Lord Wynderbroke
+in the _coupée_. Lord Wynderbroke was delighted. When they parted, he
+had asked leave to pay him a visit at Mortlake.
+
+"Only too happy, if you are not afraid of the old house falling in upon
+us. Everything _there_, you know, is very much as my grandfather left
+it. I only use it as a caravanserai, and alight there for a little, on a
+journey. Everything there is tumbling to pieces. But you won't mind--no
+more than I do."
+
+So the little visit was settled. The passage was rough. Peer and baronet
+were ill. They did not care to reunite their fortunes after they touched
+English ground. As the baronet drew near London, for certain reasons he
+grew timid. He got out with a portmanteau and dressing-case, and an
+umbrella, at Drowark station, sent his servant on with the rest of the
+luggage by rail, and himself took a chaise; and, after one change of
+horses, had reached the "Royal Oak" in the state in which we first saw
+him.
+
+The doctor had told the people at that inn that he would look in, in the
+course of the night, some time after one o'clock, being a little uneasy
+about a possible return of the old man's malady. There was that in the
+aristocratic looks and belongings of his patient, and in the very
+fashionable address to which the message to his daughter was
+transmitted, which induced in the mind of the learned man a suspicion
+that a "swell" might have accidentally fallen into his hands.
+
+By this time, thanks to the diligence of Louisa Diaper, every one in the
+house had been made acquainted with the fact that the sick man was no
+other than Sir Reginald Arden, Bart., and with many other circumstances
+of splendour, which would not, perhaps, have so well stood the test of
+inquiry. The doctor and his crony, the rector--simplest of parsons--who
+had agreed to accompany him in this nocturnal call, being a curious man,
+as gentlemen inhabiting quiet villages will be--these two gentlemen now
+heard all this lore in the hall at a quarter past one, and entered the
+patient's chamber (where they found Miss Arden and her maid)
+accordingly. In whispers, the doctor made to Miss Arden a most
+satisfactory report. He made his cautious inspection of the patient, and
+again had nothing but what was cheery to say.
+
+If the rector had not prided himself upon his manners, and had been
+content with one bow on withdrawing from the lady's presence, they would
+not that night have heard the patient's voice--and perhaps, all things
+considered, so much the better.
+
+"I trust, Madam, in the morning Sir Reginald may be quite himself again.
+It is pleasant, Madam, to witness slumber so quiet," murmured the
+clergyman kindly, and in perfect good faith. "It is the slumber of a
+tranquil mind--a spirit at peace with itself."
+
+Smiling kindly in making the last stiff bow which accompanied these
+happy words, the good man tilted over a little table behind him, on
+which stood a decanter of claret, a water caraffe, and two glasses, all
+of which came to the ground with a crash that wakened the baronet. He
+sat up straight in his bed and stared round, while the clergyman, in
+consternation, exclaimed--"Good gracious!"
+
+"Hollo! what is it?" cried the fierce, thin voice of the baronet. "What
+the devil's all this? Where's Crozier? Where's my servant? Will you,
+will you, some of you, say where the devil I am?" He was screaming all
+this, and groping and clutching at either side of the bed's head for a
+bell-rope, intending to rouse the house. "Where's Crozier, I say? Where
+the devil's my servant? eh? He's gone by rail, ain't he? No one came
+with me. And where's this? What is it? Are you all tongue-tied?--haven't
+you a word among you?"
+
+The clergyman had lifted his hands in terror at the harangue of the old
+man of the "tranquil mind." Alice had taken his thin hand, standing
+beside him, and was speaking softly in his ear. But his prominent brown
+eyes were fiercely scanning the strangers, and the hand which clutched
+hers was trembling with eager fury. "Will some of you say what you mean,
+or what you are doing, or where I am?" and he screeched another sentence
+or two, that made the old clergyman very uncomfortable.
+
+"You arrived here, Sir Reginald, about six hours ago--extremely ill,
+Sir," said the doctor, who had placed himself close to his patient, and
+spoke with official authority; "but we have got you all right again, we
+hope; and this is the 'Royal Oak,' the principal hotel of Twyford, on
+the Dover and London road; and my name is Proby."
+
+"And what's all this?" cried the baronet, snatching up one of the
+medicine-bottles from the little table by his bed, and plucking out the
+cork and smelling at the fluid. "By heaven?" he screamed, "this is the
+very thing. I could not tell what d----d taste was in my mouth, and here
+it is. Why, my doctor tells me--and he knows his business--it is as much
+as my life's worth to give me anything like--like that, pah! assafœtida!
+If my stomach is upset with this filthy stuff, I give myself up! I'm
+gone. I shall sink, Sir. Was there no one here, in the name of Heaven,
+with a grain of sense or a particle of pity, to prevent that beast from
+literally poisoning me? Egad! I'll make my son punish him! I'll make my
+family hang him if I die!" There was a quaver of misery in his shriek of
+fury, as if he was on the point of bursting into tears. "Doctor, indeed!
+who sent for him? I didn't. Who gave him leave to drug me? Upon my soul,
+I've been poisoned. To think of a creature in my state, dependent on
+nourishment every hour, having his digestion destroyed! Doctor, indeed!
+Pay him? Not I, begad," and he clenched his sentence with an ugly
+expletive.
+
+But all this concluding eloquence was lost upon the doctor, who had
+mentioned, in a lofty "aside" to Miss Arden, that "unless sent for he
+should not call again;" and with a marked politeness to her, and no
+recognition whatever of the baronet, he had taken his departure.
+
+"I'm not the doctor, Sir Reginald; I'm the clergyman," said the Reverend
+Peter Sprott, gravely and timidly, for the prominent brown eyes were
+threatening him.
+
+"Oh, the clergyman! Oh, I see. Will you be so good as to ring the bell,
+please, and excuse a sick man giving you that trouble. And is there a
+post-office near this?"
+
+"Yes, Sir--close by."
+
+"This is you, Alice? I'm glad you're here. You must write a letter this
+moment--a note to your brother. Don't be afraid--I'm better, a good
+deal--and tell the people, when they come, to get me some strong soup
+this moment, and--good evening, Sir, or good-night, or morning, or
+whatever it is," he added, to the clergyman, who was taking his leave.
+"What o'clock is it?" he asked Alice. "Well, you'll write to your
+brother to meet me at Mortlake. I have not seen him, now, for how many
+years? I forget. He's in town, is he? Very good. And tell him it is
+perhaps the last time, and I expect him. I suppose he'll come. Say at a
+quarter past nine in the evening. The sooner it's over the better. I
+expect no good of it; it is only just to try. And I shall leave this
+early--immediately after breakfast--as quickly as we can. I hate it!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIII.
+
+ON THE ROAD.
+
+
+Next morning the baronet was in high good-humour. He has written a
+little reminder to Lord Wynderbroke. He will expect him at Mortlake the
+day he named, to dinner. He remembers he promised to stay the night. He
+can offer him, still, as good a game of piquet as he is likely to find
+in his club; and he almost feels that he has no excuse but a selfish
+one, for exacting the performance of a promise which gave him a great
+deal of pleasure. His daughter, who takes care of her old father, will
+make their tea and--_voilà tout!_
+
+Sir Reginald was in particularly good spirits as he sent the waiter to
+the post-office with this little note. He thinks within himself that he
+never saw Alice in such good looks. His selfish elation waxes quite
+affectionate, and Alice never remembered him so good-natured. She
+doesn't know what to make of it exactly; but it pleases her, and she
+looks all the more brilliant.
+
+And now these foreign birds, whom a chance storm has thrown upon the
+hospitality of the "Royal Oak," are up and away again. The old baronet
+and his pretty daughter, Louisa Diaper sitting behind, in cloaks and
+rugs, and the footman in front, to watch the old man's signals, are
+whirling dustily along with a team of four horses; for Sir Reginald's
+arrangements are never economical, and a pair would have brought them
+over these short stages and home very nearly as fast. Lady May's
+carriage pleases the old man, and helps his transitory good-humour: it
+is so much more luxurious than the jolty hired vehicle in which he had
+arrived.
+
+Alice is permitted her thoughts to herself. The baronet has taken his
+into companionship, and is leaning back in his corner, with his eyes
+closed; and his pursed mouth, with its wonderful involution of wrinkles
+round it, is working unconsciously; and his still dark eyebrows, now
+elevating, now knitting themselves, indicate the same activity of brain.
+
+With a silent look now and then at his face--for she need not ask
+whether Sir Reginald wants anything, or would like anything changed, for
+the baronet needs no inquiries of this kind, and makes people speedily
+acquainted with his wants and fancies--she occupies her place beside
+him, for the most part looking out listlessly from the window, and
+thinks of many things. The baronet opens his eyes at last, and says
+abruptly,
+
+"Charming prospect! Charming day! You'll be glad to hear, Alice, I'm not
+tired; I'm making my journey wonderfully! It is so pretty, and the sun
+so cheery. You are looking so well, it is quite a pleasure to look at
+you--charming! You'll come to me at Mortlake for a few days, to take
+care of me, you know. I shall go on to Buxton in a week or so, and you
+can return to Lady May to-night, and come to Mortlake shortly; and your
+brother, graceless creature! I suppose, will come to-night. I expect
+nothing from his visit, absolutely. He has been nothing to me but a
+curse all his life. I suppose, if there's justice anywhere, he'll have
+his deserts some day. But for the present I put him aside--I sha'n't
+speak of him. He disturbs me."
+
+They drove through London over Westminster Bridge, the servant thinking
+that they were to go to Lady May Penrose's in Chester Terrace. It was
+the first time that day, since he had talked of his son, that a black
+shadow crossed Sir Reginald's face. He shrunk back. He drew up his
+Chinese silk muffler over his chin. He was fearful lest some prowling
+beak or eagle-eyed Jew should see his face, for Sir Reginald was just
+then in danger. Glancing askance under the peak of his travelling cap,
+he saw Talkington, with Wynderbroke on his arm, walking to their club.
+How free and fearless those happy mortals looked! How the old man
+yearned for his chat and his glass of wine at B----'s, and his afternoon
+whist at W----'s! How he chafed and blasphemed inwardly at the invisible
+obstacle that insurmountably interposed, and with what a fiery sting of
+malice he connected the idea of his son with the fetters that bound him!
+
+"You know that man?" said Sir Reginald sharply, as he saw Mr. Longcluse
+raise his hat to her as they passed.
+
+"Yes, I've met him pretty often at Lady May's."
+
+"H'm! I had not an idea that anyone knew him. He's a man who might be of
+use to one."
+
+Here followed a silence.
+
+"I thought, papa, you wished to go direct to Mortlake, and I don't think
+this is the way," suggested Alice.
+
+"Eh? heigho! You're right, child; upon my life, I was not thinking,"
+said Sir Reginald, at the same time signalling vehemently to the
+servant, who, having brought the carriage to a stand-still, came round
+to the window.
+
+"We don't stop anywhere in town, we go straight to Mortlake Hall. It is
+beyond Islington. Have you ever been there? Well, you can tell them how
+to reach it."
+
+And Sir Reginald placed himself again in his corner. They had not
+started early, and he had frequently interrupted their journey on
+various whimsical pretexts. He remembered one house, for instance, where
+there was a stock of the very best port he had ever tasted, and then he
+stopped and went in, and after a personal interview with the proprietor,
+had a bottle opened, and took two glasses, and so paid at the rate of
+half a guinea each for them. It had been an interrupted journey, late
+begun, and the sun was near its setting by the time they had got a mile
+beyond the outskirts of Islington, and were drawing near the singular
+old house where their journey was to end.
+
+Always with a melancholy presentiment, Alice approached Mortlake Hall.
+But never had she felt it more painfully than now. If there be in such
+misgivings a prophetic force, was it to be justified by the coming
+events of Miss Arden's life, which were awfully connected with that
+scene?
+
+They passed a quaint little village of tall stone houses, among great
+old trees, with a rural and old-world air, and an ancient inn, with the
+sign of "Guy of Warwick"--an inn of which we shall see more
+by-and-by--faded, and like the rest of this little town, standing under
+the shadow of old trees. They entered the road, dark with double
+hedge-rows, and with a moss-grown park-wall on the right, in which, in a
+little time, they reached a great iron gate with fluted pillars. They
+drove up a broad avenue, flanked with files of gigantic trees, and
+showing grand old timber also upon the park-like grounds beyond. The
+dusky light of evening fell upon these objects, and the many windows,
+the cornices, and the smokeless chimneys of a great old house. You might
+have fancied yourself two hundred miles away from London.
+
+"You don't stay here to-night, Alice. I wish you to return to Lady May,
+and give her the note I am going to write. You and she come out to dine
+here on Friday. If she makes a difficulty, I rely on you to persuade
+her. I must have someone to meet Mr. Longcluse. I have reasons. Also, I
+shall ask my brother David, and his ward Miss Maubray. I knew her
+father: he was a fool, with his head full of romance, and he married a
+very pretty woman who was a devil, without a shilling on earth. The girl
+is an orphan, and David is her guardian, and he would like any little
+attention we can show her. And we shall ask Vivian Darnley also. And
+that will make a very suitable party."
+
+Sir Reginald wrote his note, talking at intervals.
+
+"You see, I want Lady May to come here again in a day or two, to stay
+only for two or three days. She can go into town and remain there all
+day, if she likes it. But Wynderbroke will be coming, and I should not
+like him to find us quite deserted; and she said she'd come, and she may
+as well do it now as another time. David lives so quietly, we are sure
+of him; and I commit May Penrose to you. You must persuade her to come.
+It will be cruel to disappoint. Here is her note--I will send the others
+myself. And now, God bless you, dear Alice!"
+
+"I am so uncomfortable at the idea of leaving you, papa." Her hand was
+on his arm, and she was looking anxiously into his face.
+
+"So of course you should be; only that I am so perfectly recovered, that
+I must have a quiet evening with Richard; and I prefer your being in
+town to-night, and you and May Penrose can come out to-morrow. Good-bye,
+child, God bless you!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIV.
+
+MR. LONGCLUSE'S BOOT FINDS A TEMPORARY ASYLUM.
+
+
+In the papers of that morning had appeared a voluminous report of the
+proceedings of the coroner's inquest which sat upon the body of the
+deceased Pierre Lebas. I shall notice but one passage referring to the
+evidence which, it seems, Mr. Longcluse volunteered. It was given in
+these terms:--
+
+"At this point of the proceedings, Mr. R. D. Longcluse, who had arrived
+about half an hour before, expressed a wish to be examined. Mr.
+Longcluse was accordingly sworn, and deposed that he had known the
+deceased, Pierre Lebas, when he (Mr. Longcluse) was little more than a
+boy, in Paris. Lebas at that time let lodgings, which were neat and
+comfortable, in the Rue Victoire. He was a respectable and obliging man.
+He had some other occupation besides that of letting lodgings, but he
+(Mr. Longcluse) could not say what it might be." Then followed
+particulars with which we are already acquainted; and the report went on
+to say: "He seemed surprised when witness told him that there might be
+in the room persons of the worst character; and he then, in considerable
+alarm, pointed out to him (witness) a man who was and had been following
+him from place to place, he fancied with a purpose. Witness observed the
+man and saw him watch deceased, turning his eyes repeatedly upon him.
+The man had no companions, so far as he could see, and affected to be
+looking in a different direction. It was sideways and stealthily that he
+was watching deceased, who had incautiously taken out and counted some
+of his money in the room. Deceased did not conceal from the witness his
+apprehensions from this man, and witness advised him again to place his
+money in the hands of some friend who had a secure pocket, and
+recommended, in case his friend should object to take so much money into
+his care--Lebas having said he had a large sum about him--under the gaze
+of the public, that he should make the transfer in the smoking-room, the
+situation of which he described to him. Mr. Longcluse then proceeded to
+give an exact description of the man who had been dogging the deceased;
+the particulars were as follows:--"
+
+Here I arrest my quotation, for I need not recapitulate the details of
+the tall man's features, dress, and figure, which are already familiar
+to the reader.
+
+                   *       *       *       *       *
+
+In a court off High Holborn there was, and perhaps is, a sort of
+coffee-shop, in the small drawing-rooms of which, thrown into one room,
+are many small and homely tables, with penny and halfpenny papers, and
+literature with startling woodcuts. Here working mechanics and others
+snatch a very early breakfast, and take their dinners, and such as can
+afford time loiter their half-hour or so over this agreeable literature.
+One penny morning paper visited that place of refection, for three hours
+daily, and then flitted away to keep an appointment elsewhere. It was
+this dull time in that peculiar establishment--namely, about nine
+o'clock in the morning--and there was but one listless guest in the
+room. It was the identical tall man in question. His flat feet were
+planted on the bare floor, and he leaned a shoulder against the
+window-case, with a plug of tobacco in his jaw, as, at his leisure, he
+was getting through the coroner's inquest on Pierre Lebas. He was
+smiling with half-closed eyes and considerable enjoyment, up to the
+point where Mr. Longcluse's evidence was suddenly directed upon him.
+There was a twitching scowl, as if from a sudden pain; but his smile
+continued from habit, although his face grew paler. This man, whose name
+was Paul Davies, winked hard with his left eye, as he got on, and read
+fiercely with his right. His face was whiter now, and his smile less
+easy. It was a queerish situation, he thought, and might lead to
+consequences.
+
+There was a little bit of a looking-glass, picked up at some rubbishy
+auction, as old as the hills, with some tarnished gilding about it, in
+the narrow bit of wall between the windows. Paul Davies could look at
+nothing quite straight. He looked now at himself in this glass, but it
+was from the corners of his eyes, askance, and with his sly, sleepy
+depression of the eye-lids, as if he had not overmuch confidence even in
+his own shadow. He folded the morning paper, and laid it, with formal
+precision, on the table, as if no one had disturbed it; and taking up
+the _Halfpenny Illustrated Broadsheet of Fiction_, and with it
+flourishing in his hand by the corner, he called the waiter over the
+bannister, and paid his reckoning, and went off swiftly to his garret in
+another court, a quarter of a mile nearer to Saint Paul's--taking an
+obscure and devious course through back-lanes and sequestered courts.
+
+When he got up to his garret, Mr. Davies locked his door and sat down on
+the side of his creaking settle-bed, and, in his playful phrase, "put on
+his considering cap."
+
+"That's a dangerous cove, that Mr. Longcluse. He's done a bold stroke.
+And now it's him or me, I do suppose--him or me; me or him. Come, Paul,
+shake up your knowledge-box; I'll not lose this cast simple. He's gave a
+description of me. The force will know it. And them feet o' mine, they
+_are_ a bit flat: but any chap can make a pair of insteps with a
+penn'orth o' rags. I wouldn't care tuppence if it wasn't for them
+pock-marks. There's no managing them. A scar or a wart you may touch
+over with paint and sollible gutta-percha, or pink wafers and gelatine,
+but pock-marks is too many for any man."
+
+He was looking with some anxiety in the triangular fragment of
+looking-glass--balanced on a nail in the window-case--at his features.
+
+"I can take off them whiskers; and the long neck he makes so much of, if
+it was as long as an oystrich, with fourpenn'orth of cotton waste and a
+cabbage-net, I'd make a bull of it, and run my shoulders up to my ears.
+I'll take the whiskers off, anyhow. That's no treason; and he mayn't
+identify me. If I'm not had up for a fortnight my hair would be grew a
+bit, and that would be a lift. But a fellow must think twice before he
+begins disguisin'. Juries smells a rat. Howsomever, a cove may shave,
+and no harm done; or his hair may grow a bit, and how can he help it?
+Longcluse knows what he's about. He's a sharp lad, but for all that Paul
+Davies 'ill sweat him yet."
+
+Mr. Davies turned the button of his old-fashioned window, and let it
+down. He shut out his two scarlet geraniums, which accompanied him in
+all his changes from one lodging to another.
+
+"Suppose he tries the larceny--that's another thing he may do, seeing
+what my lay is. It wouldn't do to lose that thing; no more would it
+answer to let them find it."
+
+This last idea seemed to cause Paul Davies a good deal of serious
+uneasiness. He began looking about at the walls, low down near the
+skirting, and up near the ceiling, tapping now and then with his
+knuckles, and sounding the plaster as a doctor would the chest of a
+wheezy patient. He was not satisfied. He scratched his head, and fiddled
+with his ear, and plucked his short nose dubiously, and winked hard at
+his geraniums through the window.
+
+Paul Davies knew that the front garret was not let. He opened his door
+and listened. Then he entered that room. I think he had a notion of
+changing his lodgings, if only he could find what he wanted. That was
+such a hiding-place as professional seekers were not likely to discover.
+But he could not satisfy himself.
+
+A thought struck him, however, and he went into the lobby again; he got
+on a chair and pushed open the skylight, and out went Mr. Davies on the
+roof. He looked and poked about here. He looked to the neighbouring
+roofs, lest any eye should be upon him; but there was no one. A maid
+hanging clothes upon a line, on a sort of balcony, midway down the next
+house, was singing, "The Ratcatcher's Daughter," he thought rather
+sweetly--so well, indeed, that he listened for two whole verses--but
+that did not signify.
+
+Paul Davies kneeled down, and loosed and removed, one after the other,
+several slates near the lead gutter, between the gables; and, having
+made a sufficient opening in the roof for his purpose, he returned, let
+himself down lightly through the skylight, entered his room, and locked
+himself up. He then unlocked his trunk and took from under his clothes,
+where it lay, a French boot--the veritable boot of Mr. Longcluse--which,
+for greater security, he popped under the coarse coverlet of his bed. He
+next took from his trunk a large piece of paper which, being unfolded at
+the window, disclosed a rude drawing with a sentence or two underneath,
+and three signatures, with a date preceding.
+
+Having read this document over twice or thrice, with a rather menacing
+smile, he rolled it up in brown paper and thrust it into the foot of the
+boot, which he popped under the coverlet and bolster. He then opened his
+door wide. Too long a silence might possibly have seemed mysterious, and
+called up prying eyes, so, while he filled his pipe with tobacco, he
+whistled, "Villikins and his Dinah" lustily. He was very cautious about
+this boot and paper. He got on his great-coat and felt hat, and took his
+pipe and some matches--the enjoying a quiet smoke without troubling
+others with the perfume was a natural way of accounting for his visit to
+the roof. He listened. He slipped his boot and its contents into his
+capacious great-coat pocket, with a rag of old carpet tied round it; and
+then, whistling still cheerily, he mounted the roof again, and placed
+the precious parcel within the roof, which he, having some skill as a
+slater, proceeded carefully and quickly to restore.
+
+Down came Mr. Davies now, and shaved off his whiskers. Then he walked
+out, with a bundle consisting of the coat, waistcoat, and blue necktie
+he had worn on the evening of Lebas's murder. He was going to pay a
+visit to his mother, a venerable greengrocer, who lived near the Tower
+of London; and on his way he pledged these articles at two distinct and
+very remote pawnbrokers', intending on his return to release, with the
+proceeds, certain corresponding articles of his wardrobe, now in ward in
+another establishment. These measures of obliteration he was taking
+quietly. His visit to his mother, a very honest old woman, who believed
+him to be the most virtuous, agreeable, and beautiful young man extant,
+was made with a very particular purpose.
+
+"Well, Ma'am," he said, in reply to the old lady's hospitable greeting,
+"I won't refuse a pot of half-and-half and a couple of eggs, and I'll go
+so far as a cut or two of bacon, bein' 'ungry; and I'm a-goin' to write
+a paper of some consequence, if you'll obleege me with a sheet of
+foolscap and a pen and ink; and I may as well write it while the things
+is a-gettin' ready, accordin' to your kind intentions."
+
+And accordingly Mr. Paul Davies sat in silence, looking very
+important--as he always did when stationery was before him--at a small
+table, in a dark back room, and slowly penned a couple of pages of
+foolscap.
+
+"And now," said he, producing the document after his repast, "will you
+be so good, Ma'am, as to ask Mr. Sildyke and Mrs. Rumble to come down
+and witness my signing of this, which I mean to leave it in your hands
+and safe keepin', under lock and key, until I take it away, or otherwise
+tells you what you must do with it. It is a police paper, Ma'am, and may
+be wanted any time. But you keep it dark till I tells you."
+
+This settled, Mr. Sildyke and Mrs. Rumble arrived obligingly; and Paul
+Davies, with an adroit wink at his mother--who was a little shocked and
+much embarrassed by the ruse, being a truth-loving woman--told them that
+here was his last will and testament, and he wanted only that they
+should witness his signature; which, with the date, was duly
+accomplished. Paul Davies was, indeed, a man of that genius which
+requires to proceed by stratagem, cherishing an abhorrence of straight
+lines, and a picturesque love of the curved and angular. So, if Mr.
+Longcluse was doing his duty at one end of the town, Mr. Davies, at the
+other, was by no means wanting in activity, or, according to the level
+of his intellect and experience, in wisdom.
+
+We have recurred to these scenes in which Mr. Paul Davies figures,
+because it was indispensable to the reader's right understanding of some
+events that follow. Be so good, then, as to find Sir Reginald exactly
+where I left him, standing on the steps of Mortlake Hall. His daughter
+would have stayed, but he would not hear of it. He stood on the steps,
+and smirked a yellow and hollow farewell, waving his hand as the
+carriage drove away. Then he turned and entered the lofty hall, in which
+the light was already failing.
+
+Sir Reginald did not like the trouble of mounting the stairs. His
+bed-room and sitting-room were on a level with the hall. As soon as he
+came in, the gloom of his old prison-house began to overshadow him, and
+his momentary cheer and good-humour disappeared.
+
+"Where is Tansey? I suppose she's in her bed, or grumbling in
+toothache," he snarled to the footman. "And where the devil's Crozier? I
+have the fewest and the worst servants, I believe, of any man in
+England."
+
+He poked open the door of his sitting-room with the point of his
+walking-stick.
+
+"Nothing ready, I dare swear," he quavered, and shot a peevish and fiery
+glance round it.
+
+Things were not looking quite so badly as he expected. There was just
+the little bit of expiring fire in the grate which he liked, even in
+summer. His sealskin slippers were on the hearth-rug, and his easy-chair
+was pushed into its proper place.
+
+"Ha! Crozier, at last! Here, get off this coat, and these mufflers,
+and---- I was d----d near dying in that vile chaise. I don't remember
+how they got me into the inn. There, don't mind condoling. You're
+privileged, but don't do that. As near dying as possible--rather an
+awkward business for useless old servants here, if I had. I'll dress in
+the next room. My son's coming this evening. Admit him, mind. I'll see
+him. How long is it since we met last? Two years, egad! And Lord
+Wynderbroke has his dinner here--I don't know what day, but some day
+very soon--Friday, I think; and don't let the people here go to sleep.
+Remember!"
+
+And so on, with his old servant, he talked, and sneered, and snarled,
+and established himself in his sitting-room, with his reviews, and his
+wine, and his newspapers.
+
+Night fell over dark Mortlake Hall, and over the blazing city of London.
+Sir Reginald listened, every now and then, for the approach of his son.
+Talk as he might, he did expect something--and a great deal--from the
+coming interview. Two years without a home, without an allowance, with
+no provision except a hundred and fifty pounds a year, might well have
+tamed that wilful beast!
+
+With the tremor of acute suspense, the old man watched and listened. Was
+it a good or an ill sign, his being so late?
+
+The city of London, with its still roaring traffic and blaze of
+gas-lamps, did not contrast more powerfully with the silent shadows of
+the forest-grounds of Mortlake, than did the drawing-room of Lady May
+Penrose, brilliant with a profusion of light, and resonant with the gay
+conversation of inmates, all disposed to enjoy themselves, with the dim
+and vast room in which Sir Reginald sat silently communing with his own
+dismal thoughts.
+
+Nothing so contagious as gaiety. Alice Arden, laughingly, was "making
+her book" rather prematurely in dozens of pairs of gloves, for the
+Derby. Lord Wynderbroke was deep in it. So was Vivian Darnley.
+
+"Your brother and I are to take the reins, turn about, Lady May says.
+He's a crack whip. He's better than I, I think," said Vivian to Alice
+Arden.
+
+"You mustn't upset us, though. I am so afraid of you crack whips!" said
+Alice. "Nor let your horses run away with us; I've been twice run away
+with already."
+
+"I don't the least wonder at Miss Arden's being run away with very
+often," said Lord Wynderbroke, with all the archness of a polite man of
+fifty.
+
+"Very prettily said, Wynderbroke," smiled Lady May. "And where is your
+brother? I thought he'd have turned up to-night," asked she of Alice.
+
+"I quite forgot. He was to see papa this evening. They wanted to talk
+over something together."
+
+"Oh, I see!" said Lady May, and she became thoughtful.
+
+What was the exact nature of the interest which good Lady May
+undoubtedly took in Richard Arden? Was it quite so motherly as years
+might warrant? At that time people laughed over it, and were curious to
+see the progress of the comedy. Here was light and gaiety--light within,
+lamps without; spirited talk in young anticipation of coming days of
+pleasure; and outside the roll of carriage-wheels making a humming bass
+to this merry treble.
+
+                   *       *       *       *       *
+
+Over the melancholy precincts of Mortlake the voiceless darkness of
+night descends with unmitigated gloom. The centre--the brain of this
+dark place--is the house: and in a large dim room, near the smouldering
+fire, sits the image that haunts rather than inhabits it.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XV.
+
+FATHER AND SON.
+
+
+Sir Reginald Arden had fallen into a doze, as he sat by the fire with
+his _Revue des Deux Mondes_, slipping between his finger and thumb, on
+his knees. He was recalled by Crozier's voice, and looking up, he saw,
+standing near the door, as if in some slight hesitation, a figure not
+seen for two years before.
+
+For a moment Sir Reginald doubted his only half-awakened senses. Was
+that handsome oval face, with large, soft eyes, with such brilliant
+lips, and the dark-brown moustache, so fine, and silken, that had never
+known a razor, an unsubstantial portrait hung in the dim air, or his
+living son? There were perplexity and surprise in the old man's stare.
+
+"I should have been here before, Sir, but your letter did not reach me
+until an hour ago," said Richard Arden.
+
+"By heaven! Dick? And so you came! I believe I was asleep. Give me your
+hand. I hope, Dick, we may yet end this miserable quarrel happily.
+Father and son can have no real interests apart."
+
+Sir Reginald Arden extended his thin hand, and smiled invitingly but
+rather darkly on his son. Graceful and easy this young man was, and yet
+embarrassed, as he placed his hand within his father's.
+
+"You will take something, Dick, won't you?"
+
+"Nothing, Sir, thanks."
+
+Sir Reginald was stealthily reading his face. At last he began
+circuitously--
+
+"I've a little bit of news to tell you about Alice. How long shall I
+allow you to guess what it is?"
+
+"I'm the worst guesser in the world--pray don't wait for me, Sir."
+
+"Well, I have in my desk there--would you mind putting it on the table
+here?--a letter from Wynderbroke. You know him?"
+
+"Yes, a little."
+
+"Well, Wynderbroke writes--the letter arrived only an hour ago--to ask
+my leave to marry your sister, if she will consent; and he says all he
+will do, which is very handsome--very generous indeed. Wait a moment.
+Yes, here it is. Read that."
+
+Richard Arden did read the letter, with open eyes and breathless
+interest. The old man's eyes were upon him as he did so.
+
+"Well, Richard, what do you think?"
+
+"There can be but one opinion about it. Nothing can be more handsome.
+Everything suitable. I only hope that Alice will not be foolish."
+
+"She sha'n't be that, I'll take care," said the old man, locking down
+his desk again upon the letter.
+
+"It might possibly be as well, Sir, to prepare her a little at first. I
+may possibly be of some little use, and so may Lady May. I only mean
+that it might hardly be expedient to make it from the first a matter of
+authority, because she has romantic ideas, and she is spirited."
+
+"I'll sleep upon it. I sha'n't see her again till to-morrow evening. She
+does not care about anyone in particular, I suppose?"
+
+"Not that I know of," said Richard.
+
+"You'll find it will all be right--it _will_--all right. It _shall_ be
+right," said Sir Reginald. And then there was a silence. He was
+meditating the other business he had in hand, and again circuitously he
+proceeded.
+
+"What's going on at the opera? Who is your great danseuse at present?"
+inquired the baronet, with a glimmer of a leer. "I haven't seen a ballet
+for more than six years. And why? I needn't tell you. You know the
+miserable life I lead. Egad! there are fellows placed everywhere to
+watch me. There would be an execution in this house this night, if the
+miserable tables and chairs were not my brother David's property. Upon
+my life, Craven, my attorney, had to serve two notices on the sheriff in
+one term, to caution him not to sell your uncle's furniture for my
+debts. I shouldn't have had a joint-stool to sit down on, if it hadn't
+been for that. And I had to get out of the railway-carriage, by heaven!
+for fear of arrest, and come home--if home I can call this ruin--by
+posting all the way, except a few miles. I did not dare to tell Craven I
+was coming back. I wrote from Twyford, where I--I--took a fancy to sleep
+last night, to no human being but yourself. My comfort is that they and
+all the world believe that I'm still in France. It is a pleasant state
+of things!"
+
+"I am grieved, Sir, to think you suffer so much."
+
+"I know it. I knew it. I know you are, Dick," said the old man eagerly.
+"And my life is a perfect hell. I can nowhere in England find rest for
+the sole of my foot. I am suffering perpetually the most miserable
+mortifications, and the tortures of the damned. I know you are sorry. It
+can't be pleasant to you to see your father the miserable outcast, and
+fugitive, and victim he so often is. And I'll say distinctly--I'll say
+at once--for it was with this one purpose I sent for you--that no son
+with a particle of human feeling, with a grain of conscience, or an atom
+of principle, could endure to see it, when he knew that by a stroke of
+his pen he could undo it all, and restore a miserable parent to life and
+liberty! Now, Richard, you have my mind. I have concealed nothing, and
+I'm sure, Dick, I know, I _know_ you won't see your father perish by
+inches, rather than sign the warrant for his liberation. For God's sake,
+Dick, my boy speak out! Have you the heart to reject your miserable
+father's petition? Do you wish me to kneel to you? I love you, Dick,
+although you don't admit it. I'll kneel to you, Dick--I'll kneel to you.
+I'll go on my knees to you."
+
+His hands were clasped; he made a movement. His great prominent eyes
+were fixed on Richard Arden's face, which he was reading with a great
+deal of eagerness, it is true, but also with a dark and narrow
+shrewdness.
+
+"Good heaven, Sir, don't stir, I implore! If you do, I must leave the
+room," said Richard, embarrassed to a degree that amounted to agitation.
+"And I must tell you, Sir--it is very painful, but, I could not help it,
+necessity drove me to it--if I were ever so desirous, it is out of my
+power now. I have dealt with my reversion. I have executed a deed."
+
+"You have been with the Jews!" cried the old man, jumping to his feet.
+"You have been dealing, by way of _post obit_, with my estate!"
+
+Richard Arden looked down. Sir Reginald was as nearly white as his
+yellow tint would allow; his large eyes were gleaming fire--he looked as
+if he would have snatched the poker, and brained his son.
+
+"But what could I do, Sir? I had no other resource. I was forbidden your
+house; I had no money."
+
+"You lie, Sir!" yelled the old man, with a sudden flash, and a hammer of
+his thin trembling fist on the table. "You had a hundred and fifty
+pounds a year of your mother's."
+
+"But that, Sir, could not possibly support any one. I was compelled to
+act as I did. You really, Sir, left me no choice."
+
+"Now, now, now, now, now! you're not to run away with the thing, you're
+not to run away with it; you sha'n't run away with it, Sir. You could
+have made a submission, you know you could. I was open to be reconciled
+at any time--always too ready. You had only to do as you ought to have
+done, and I'd have received you with open arms; you know I would--I
+_would_--you had only to unite our interests in the estates, and I'd
+have done everything to make you happy, and you know it. But you have
+taken the step--you have done it, and it is irrevocable. You have done
+it, and you've ruined me; and I pray to God you have ruined yourself!"
+
+With every sinew quivering, the old man was pulling the bell-rope
+violently with his left hand. Over his shoulder, on his son, he glanced
+almost maniacally. "Turn him out!" he screamed to Crozier, stamping;
+"put him out by the collar. Shut the door upon him, and lock it; and if
+he ever dares to call here again, slam it in his face. I have done with
+him for ever!"
+
+Richard Arden had already left the room, and this closing passage was
+lost on him. But he heard the old man's voice as he walked along the
+corridor, and it was still in his ears as he passed the hall-door; and,
+running down the steps, he jumped into his cab. Crozier held the
+cab-door open, and wished Mr. Richard a kind good-night. He stood on the
+steps to see the last of the cab as it drove down the shadowy avenue and
+was lost in gloom. He sighed heavily. What a broken family it was! He
+was an old servant, born on their northern estate--loyal, and somewhat
+rustic--and, certainly, had the baronet been less in want of money, not
+exactly the servant he would have chosen.
+
+"The old gentleman cannot last long," he said, as he followed the sound
+of the retreating wheels with his gaze, "and then Master Richard will
+take his turn, and what one began the other will finish. It is all up
+with the Ardens. Sir Reginald ruined, Master Harry murdered, and Master
+David turned tradesman! There's a curse on the old house."
+
+He heard the baronet's tread faintly, pacing the floor in agitation, as
+he passed his door; and when he reached the housekeeper's room, that old
+lady, Mrs. Tansey, was alone and all of a tremble, standing at the door.
+Before her dim staring eyes had risen an oft-remembered scene: the
+ivy-covered gatehouse at Mortlake Hall; the cold moon glittering down
+through the leafless branches; the grey horse on its side across the
+gig-shaft, and the two villains--one rifling and the other murdering
+poor Henry Arden, the baronet's gay and reckless brother.
+
+"Lord, Mr. Crozier! what's crossed Sir Reginald?" she said huskily,
+grasping the servant's wrist with her lean hand. "Master Dick, I do
+suppose. I thought he was to come no more. They quarrel always. I'm like
+to faint, Mr. Crozier."
+
+"Sit ye down, Mrs. Tansey, Ma'am; you should take just a thimbleful of
+something. What has frightened you?"
+
+"There's a scritch in Sir Reginald's voice--mercy on us!--when he raises
+it so; it is the very cry of poor Master Harry--his last cry, when the
+knife pierced him. I'll never forget it!"
+
+The old woman clasped her fingers over her eyes, and shook her head
+slowly.
+
+"Well, that's over and ended this many a day, and past cure. We need not
+fret ourselves no more about it--'tis thirty years since."
+
+"Two-and-twenty the day o' the Longden steeple-chase. I've a right to
+remember it." She closed her eyes again. "Why can't they keep apart?"
+she resumed. "If father and son can't look one another in the face
+without quarrelling, better they should turn their backs on one another
+for life. Why need they come under one roof? The world's wide enough."
+
+"So it is--and no good meeting and argufying; for Mr. Dick will never
+open the estate," remarked Mr. Crozier.
+
+"And more shame for him!" said Mrs. Tansey. "He's breaking his father's
+heart. It troubles him more," she added in a changed tone, "I'm
+thinking, than ever poor Master Harry's death did. There's none living
+of his kith or kin cares about it now but Master David. He'll never let
+it rest while he lives."
+
+"He _may_ let it rest, for he'll never make no hand of it," said
+Crozier. "Would you object, Ma'am, to my making a glass of something
+hot?--you're gone very pale."
+
+Mrs. Tansey assented, and the conversation grew more comfortable. And so
+the night closed over the passions and the melancholy of Mortlake Hall.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVI.
+
+A MIDNIGHT MEETING.
+
+
+A couple of days passed; and now I must ask you to suppose yourself
+placed, at night, in the centre of a vast heath, undulating here and
+there like a sea arrested in a ground-swell, lost in a horizon of
+monotonous darkness all round. Here and there rises a scrubby hillock of
+furze, black and rough as the head of a monster. The eye aches as it
+strains to discover objects or measure distances over the blurred and
+black expanse. Here stand two trees pretty close together--one in thick
+foliage, a black elm, with a funereal and plume-like stillness, and
+blotting out many stars with its gigantic canopy; the other, about fifty
+paces off, a withered and half barkless fir, with one white branch left,
+stretching forth like the arm of a gibbet. Nearly under this is a flat
+rock, with one end slanting downwards, and half buried in the ferns and
+the grass that grow about that spot. One other fir stands a little way
+off, smaller than these two trees, which in daylight are conspicuous far
+away as landmarks on a trackless waste. Overhead the stars are blinking,
+but the desolate landscape lies beneath in shapeless obscurity, like
+drifts of black mist melting together into one wide vague sea of
+darkness that forms the horizon. Over this comes, in fitful moanings, a
+melancholy wind. The eye stretches vainly to define the objects that
+fancy sometimes suggests, and the ear is strained to discriminate the
+sounds, real or unreal, that seem to mingle in the uncertain distance.
+
+If you can conjure up all this, and the superstitious freaks that in
+such a situation imagination will play in even the hardest and coarsest
+natures, you have a pretty distinct idea of the feelings and
+surroundings of a tall man who lay that night his length under the
+blighted tree I have mentioned, stretched on its roots, with his chin
+supported on his hands, and looking vaguely into the darkness. He had
+been smoking, but his pipe was out now, and he had no occupation but
+that of forming pictures on the dark back-ground, and listening to the
+moan and rush of the distant wind, and imagining sometimes a voice
+shouting, sometimes the drumming of a horse's hoofs approaching over the
+plain. There was a chill in the air that made this man now and then
+shiver a little, and get up and take a turn back and forward, and stamp
+sharply as he did so, to keep the blood stirring in his legs and feet.
+Then down he would lay again, with his elbows on the ground, and his
+hands propping his chin. Perhaps he brought his head near the ground,
+thinking that thus he could hear distant sounds more sharply. He was
+growing impatient, and well he might.
+
+The moon now began to break through the mist in fierce red over the far
+horizon. A streak of crimson, that glowed without illuminating anything,
+showed through the distant cloud close along the level of the heath.
+Even this was a cheer, like a red ember or two in a pitch-dark room.
+Very far away he thought now he heard the tread of a horse. One can hear
+miles away over that level expanse of death-like silence. He pricked his
+ears, he raised himself on his hands, and listened with open mouth. He
+lost the sound, but on leaning his head again to the ground, that vast
+sounding-board carried its vibration once more to his ear. It was the
+canter of a horse upon the heath. He was doubtful whether it was
+approaching, for the sound subsided sometimes; but afterwards it was
+renewed, and gradually he became certain that it was coming nearer. And
+now, like a huge, red-hot dome of copper, the moon rose above the level
+strips of cloud that lay upon the horizon of the heath, and objects
+began to reveal themselves. The stunted fir, that had looked to the
+fancy of the solitary watcher like a ghostly policeman, with arm and
+truncheon raised, just starting in pursuit, now showed some lesser
+branches, and was more satisfactorily a tree; distances became
+measurable, though not yet accurately, by the eye; and ridges and
+hillocks caught faintly the dusky light, and threw blurred but deep
+shadows backward.
+
+The tread of the horse approaching had become a gallop as the light
+improved, and horse and horseman were soon visible. Paul Davies stood
+erect, and took up a position a few steps in advance of the blighted
+tree at whose foot he had been stretched. The figure, seen against the
+dusky glare of the moon, would have answered well enough for one of
+those highwaymen who in old times made the heath famous. His low-crowned
+felt hat, his short coat with a cape to it, and the leather casings,
+which looked like jack-boots, gave this horseman, seen in dark outline
+against the glow, a character not unpicturesque. With a sudden strain of
+the bridle, the gaunt rider pulled up before the man who awaited him.
+
+"What are you doing there?" said the horseman roughly.
+
+"Counting the stars," answered he.
+
+Thus the signs and countersigns were exchanged, and the stranger said--
+
+"You're alone, Paul Davies, I take it."
+
+"No company but ourselves, mate," answered Davies.
+
+"You're up to half a dozen dodges, Paul, and knows how to lime a twig;
+that's your little game, you know. This here tree is clean enough, but
+that 'ere has a hatful o' leaves on it."
+
+"I didn't put them there," said Paul, a little sulkily.
+
+"Well, no. I do suppose a sight o' you wouldn't exactly put a tree in
+leaf, or a rose-bush in blossom; nor even make wegitables grow. More
+like to blast 'em, like that rum un over your head."
+
+"What's up?" asked the ex-detective.
+
+"Jest this--there's leaves enough for a bird to roost there, so this
+won't do. Now, then, move on you with me."
+
+As the gaunt rider thus spoke, his long red beard was blowing this way
+and that in the breeze; and he turned his horse, and walked him towards
+that lonely tree in which, as he lay gazing on its black outline, Paul
+had fancied the shape of a phantom policeman.
+
+"I don't care a cuss," said Davies. "I'm half sorry I came a leg to meet
+yer."
+
+"Growlin', eh?" said the horseman.
+
+"I wish you was as cold as me, and you'd growl a bit, maybe, yourself,"
+said Paul. "I'm jolly cold."
+
+"Cold, are ye?"
+
+"Cold as a lock-up."
+
+"Why didn't ye fetch a line o' the old author with you?" asked the
+rider--meaning brandy.
+
+"I had a pipe or two."
+
+"Who'd a-guessed we was to have a night like this in summer-time?"
+
+"I do believe it freezes all the year round in this queer place."
+
+"Would ye like a drop of the South-Sea mountain (gin)?" said the
+stranger, producing a flask from his pocket, which Paul Davies took with
+a great deal of good-will, much to the donor's content, for he wished to
+find that gentleman in good-humour in the conversation that was to
+follow.
+
+"Drink what's there, mate. D'ye like it?"
+
+"It ain't to be by no means sneezed at," said Paul Davies.
+
+The horseman looked back over his shoulder. Paul Davies remarked that
+his shoulders were round enough to amount almost to a deformity. He and
+his companion were now a long way from the tree whose foliage he feared
+might afford cover to some eavesdropper.
+
+"This tree will answer. I suppose you like a post to clap your back to
+while we are palaverin'," said the rider. "Make a finish of it, Mr.
+Davies," he continued, as that person presented the half-emptied flask
+to his hand. "I'm as hot as steam, myself, and I'd rather have a smoke
+by-and-by."
+
+He touched the bridle here, and the horse stood still, and the rider
+patted his reeking neck, as he stooped with a shake of his ears and a
+snort, and began to sniff the scant herbage at his feet.
+
+"I don't mind if I have another pull," said Paul, replenishing the
+goblet that fitted over the bottom of the flask.
+
+"Fill it again, and no heel-taps," said his companion.
+
+Mr. Davies sat down, with his mug in his hand, on the ground, and his
+back against the tree. Had there been a donkey near, to personate the
+immortal Dapple, you might have fancied, in that uncertain gloom, the
+Knight and Squire of La Mancha overtaken by darkness, and making one of
+their adventurous bivouacs under the boughs of the tree.
+
+"What you saw in the papers three days ago did give you a twist, I take
+it?" observed the gentleman on horseback, with a grin that made the red
+bristles on his upper lip curl upwards and twist like worms.
+
+"I can't tumble to a right guess what you means," said Mr. Davies.
+
+"Come, Paul, that won't never do. You read every line of that there
+inquest on the French cove at the Saloon, and you have by rote every
+word Mr. Longcluse said. It must be a queer turning of the tables, for a
+clever chap like you to have to look slippy, for fear other dogs should
+lag you."
+
+"'Tain't me that 'ill be looking slippy, as you and me well knows; and
+it's jest because you knows it well you're here. I suppose it ain't for
+love of _me_ quite?" sneered Paul Davies.
+
+"I don't care a rush for Mr. Longcluse, no more nor I care for you; and
+I see he's goin' where he pleases. He made a speech in yesterday's
+paper, at the meetin' at the Surrey Gardens. He was canvassin' for
+Parliament down in Derbyshire a week ago; and he printed a letter to the
+electors only yesterday. He don't care two pins for you."
+
+"A good many rows o' pins, I'm thinkin'," sneered Mr. Davies.
+
+"Thinkin' won't make a loaf, Mr. Davies. Many a man has bin too clever,
+and _thought_ himself into the block-house. You're making too fine a
+game, Mr. Davies; a playin' a bit too much with edged tools, and
+fiddlin' a bit too freely with fire. You'll burn your fingers, and cut
+'em too, do ye mind? unless you be advised, and close the game where you
+stand to win, as I rather think you do now."
+
+"So do I, mate," said Paul Davies, who could play at brag as well as his
+neighbour.
+
+"I'm on another lay, a safer one by a long sight. My maxim is the same
+as yours, 'Grab all you can;' but _I_ do it safe, d'ye see? You are in a
+fair way to end your days on the twister."
+
+"Not if I knows it," said Paul Davies. "I'm afeared o' no man livin'.
+Who can say black's the white o' my eye? Do ye take me for a child? What
+do ye take me for?"
+
+"I take you for the man that robbed and done for the French cove in the
+Saloon. That's the child I take ye for," answered the horseman
+cynically.
+
+"You lie! You don't! You know I han't a pig of his money, and never hurt
+a hair of his head. You say that to rile me, jest."
+
+"Why should I care a cuss whether you're riled or no? Do you think I
+want to get anything out o' yer? I knows everything as well as you do
+yourself. You take me for a queer gill, I'm thinking; that's not my lay.
+I wouldn't wait here while you'd walk round my hoss to have every secret
+you ever know'd."
+
+"A queer gill, mayhap. I think I know you," said Mr. Davies, archly.
+
+"You do, do ye? Well, come, who do you take me for?" said the stranger,
+turning towards him, and sitting erect in the saddle, with his hand on
+his thigh, to afford him the amplest view of his face and figure.
+
+"Then I take you for Mr. Longcluse," said Paul Davies, with a wag of his
+head.
+
+"For Mr. Longcluse!" echoed the horseman, with a boisterous laugh.
+"Well, _there's_ a guess to tumble to! The worst guess I ever heer'd
+made. Did you ever see him? Why, there's not two bones in our two bodies
+the same length, and not two inches of our two faces alike. There's a
+guess for a detective! Be my soul, it's well for you it ain't him, for I
+think he'd a shot ye!"
+
+The rider lifted his hand from his coat-pocket as he said this, but
+there was no weapon in it. Mistaking his intention, however, Paul Davies
+skipped behind the tree, and levelled a revolver at him.
+
+"Down with that, you fool!" cried the horseman. "There's nothing here."
+And he gave his horse the spur, and made him plunge to a little
+distance, as he held up his right hand. "But I'm not such a fool as to
+meet a cove like you without the lead towels, too, in case you should
+try that dodge." And dipping his hand swiftly into his pocket again, he
+also showed in the air the glimmering barrels of a pistol. "If you must
+be pullin' out your barkers every minute, and can't talk like a man,
+where's the good of coming all this way to palaver with a cove. It ain't
+not tuppence to me. Crack away if you likes it, and see who shoots best;
+or, if you likes it better, I don't mind if I get down and try who can
+hit hardest t'other way, and you'll find my fist tastes very strong of
+the hammer."
+
+"I thought you were up for mischief," said Davies, "and I won't be
+polished off simple, that's all. It's best to keep as we are, and no
+nearer; we can hear one another well enough where we stand."
+
+"It's a bargain," said the stranger, "and I don't care a cuss who you
+take me for. I'm not Mr. Longcluse; but you're welcome, if it pleases
+you, to give me his name, and I wish I could have the old bloke's tin as
+easy. Now here's my little game, and I don't find it a bad one. When two
+gentlemen--we'll say, for instance, you and Mr. Longcluse--differs in
+opinion (you says he did a certain thing, and he says he didn't, or goes
+the whole hog and says _you_ did it, and not him), it's plain, if the
+matter is to be settled amigable, it's best to have a man as knows what
+he's about, and can find out the cove as threatens the rich fellow, and
+deal with him handsome, according to circumstances. My terms is
+moderate. I takes five shillins in the pound, and not a pig under; and
+that puts you and I in the same boat, d'ye see? Well, I gets all I can
+out of him, and no harm can happen me, for I'm but a cove a-carryin' of
+messages betwixt you, and the more I gets for you the better for me. I
+settled many a business amigable the last five years that would never
+have bin settled without me. I'm well knowing to some of the swellest
+lawyers in town, and whenever they has a dilikite case, like a gentleman
+threatened with informations or the like, they sends for me, and I
+arranges it amigable, to the satisfacshing of both parties. It's the
+only way to settle sich affairs with good profit and no risk. I have
+spoke to Mr. Longcluse. He was all for having your four bones in the
+block-house, and yourself on the twister; and he's not a cove to be
+bilked out of his tin. But he would not like the bother of your
+cross-charge, either, and I think I could make all square between ye.
+What do you say?"
+
+"How can I tell that you ever set eyes on Mr. Longcluse?" said Davies,
+more satisfied as the conference proceeded that he had misdirected his
+first guess at the identity of the horseman. "How can I tell you're not
+just a-gettin' all you can out o' me, to make what you can of it on your
+own account in that market?"
+
+"That's true, you can't tell, mate."
+
+"And what do I know about you? What's your name?" pursued Paul Davies.
+
+"I forgot my name, I left it at home in the cupboard; and you know
+nothing about me, that's true, excepting what I told you, and you'll
+hear no more."
+
+"I'm too old a bird for that; you're a born genius, only spoilt in the
+baking. I'm thinking, mate, I may as well paddle my own canoe, and sell
+my own secret on my own account. What can you do for me that I can't do
+as well for myself?"
+
+"You don't think that, Paul. You dare not show to Mr. Longcluse, and you
+know he's in a wax; and who can you send to him? You'll make nothing o'
+that brag. Where's the good of talking like a blast to a chap like me?
+Don't you suppose I take all that at its vally? I tell you what, if it
+ain't settled now, you'll see me no more, for I'll not undertake it." He
+pulled up his horse's head, preparatory to starting.
+
+"Well, what's up now?--what's the hurry?" demanded Mr. Davies.
+
+"Why, if this here meetin' won't lead to business, the sooner we two
+parts and gets home again, the less time wasted," answered the cavalier,
+with his hand on the crupper of the saddle, as he turned to speak.
+
+Each seemed to wait for the other to add something.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVII.
+
+MR. LONGCLUSE AT MORTLAKE HALL.
+
+
+"If you let me go this time, Mr. Wheeler, you'll not catch me a-walking
+out here again," said Mr. Davies sourly. "If there's business to be
+done, now's the time."
+
+"Well, I can't make it no plainer--'tis as clear as mud in a
+wine-glass," said the mounted man gaily, and again he shook the bridle
+and hitched himself in the saddle, and the horse stirred uneasily, as he
+added, "Have you any more to say?"
+
+"Well, supposin' I say ay, how soon will it be settled?" said Paul
+Davies, beginning to think better of it.
+
+"These things doesn't take long with a rich cove like Mr. Longcluse.
+It's where they has to scrape it up, by beggin' here and borrowin'
+there, and sellin' this and spoutin' that--there's a wait always. But a
+chap with no end o' tin--that has only to wish and have--that's your
+sort. He swears a bit, and threatens, and stamps, and loses his temper
+summat, ye see; and if I was the prencipal, like you are in this 'ere
+case, and the police convenient, or a poker in his fist, he might make a
+row. But seein' I'm only a messenger like, it don't come to nothin'. He
+claps his hand in his pocket, and outs with the rino, and there's all;
+and jest a bit of paper to sign. But I won't stay here no longer. I'm
+getting a bit cold myself; so it's on or off _now_. Go yourself to
+Longcluse, if you like, and see if you don't catch it. The least you get
+will be seven-penn'orth, for extortin' money by threatenin' a
+prosecution, if he don't hang you for the murder of the Saloon cove. How
+would you like that?"
+
+"It ain't the physic that suits my complaint, guvnor. But I have him
+there. I have the statement wrote, in sure hands, and other hevidence,
+as he may suppose, and dated, and signed by respectable people; and I
+know his dodge. He thinks he came out first with his charge against me,
+but he's out there; and if he _will_ have it, and I split, he'd best
+look slippy."
+
+"And how much do you want? Mind, I'll funk him all I can, though he's a
+wideawake chap; for it's my game to get every pig I can out of him."
+
+"I'll take two thousand pounds, and go to Canada or to New York, my
+passage and expenses being paid, and sign anything in reason he wants;
+and that's the shortest chalk I'll offer."
+
+"Don't you wish you may get it? _I_ do, I know, but I'm thinking you
+might jest as well look for the naytional debt."
+
+"What's your name?" again asked Davies, a little abruptly.
+
+"My name fell out o' window and was broke, last Tuesday mornin'. But
+call me Tom Wheeler, if you can't talk without calling me something."
+
+"Well, Tom, that's the figure," said Davies.
+
+"If you want to deal, speak now," said Wheeler. "If I'm to stand between
+you, I must have a power to close on the best offer I'm like to get. I
+won't do nothing in the matter else-ways."
+
+With this fresh exhortation, the conference on details proceeded; and
+when at last it closed, with something like a definite understanding,
+Tom Wheeler said,--"Mind, Paul Davies, I comes from no one, and I goes
+to no one; and I never seed you in all my days."
+
+"And where are you going?"
+
+"A bit nearer the moon," said the mysterious Mr. Wheeler, lifting his
+hand and pointing towards the red disk, with one of his bearded grins.
+And wheeling his horse suddenly, away he rode at a canter, right toward
+the red moon, against which for a few moments the figure of the
+retreating horse and man showed black and sharp, as if cut out of
+cardboard.
+
+Paul Davies looked after him with his left eye screwed close, as was his
+custom, in shrewd rumination. Before the horseman had got very far, the
+moon passed under the edge of a thick cloud, and the waste was once more
+enveloped in total darkness. In this absolute obscurity the retreating
+figure was instantaneously swallowed, so that the shrewd ex-detective,
+who had learned by rote every article of his dress, and every button on
+it, and could have sworn to every mark on his horse at York Fair, had no
+chance of discovering in the ultimate line of his retreat, any clue to
+his destination. He had simply emerged from darkness, and darkness had
+swallowed him again.
+
+                   *       *       *       *       *
+
+We must now see how Sir Reginald's little dinner-party, not a score of
+miles away, went off only two days later. He was fortunate, seeing he
+had bidden his guests upon very short notice, not one disappointed.
+
+I daresay that Lady May--whose toilet, considering how quiet everything
+was, had been made elaborately--missed a face that would have brightened
+all the rooms for her. But the interview between Richard Arden and his
+father had not, as we know, ended in reconciliation, and Lady May's
+hopes were disappointed, and her toilet labour in vain.
+
+When Lady May entered the room with Alice, she saw standing on the
+hearth-rug, at the far end of the handsome room, a tall and very
+good-looking man of sixty or upwards, chatting with Sir Reginald, one of
+whose feet was in a slipper, and who was sitting in an easy-chair. A
+little bit of fire burned in the grate, for the day had been chill and
+showery. This tall man, with white silken hair, and a countenance kind,
+frank, and thoughtful, with a little sadness in it, was, she had no
+doubt, David Arden, whom she had last seen with silken brown locks, and
+the cheerful aspect of early manhood.
+
+Sir Reginald stood up, with an uncomfortable effort, and, smiling,
+pointed to his slippers in excuse for his limping gait, as he shuffled
+forth across the carpet to meet her, with a good-humoured shrug.
+
+"Wasn't it good of her to come?" said Alice.
+
+"She's better than good," said Sir Reginald, with his thin, yellow
+smile, extending his hand, and leading her to a chair; "it is visiting
+the sick and the halt, and doing real good, for it is a pleasure to see
+her--a pleasure bestowed on a miserable soul who has very few pleasures
+left;" and with his other thin hand he patted gently the fingers of her
+fat hand. "Here is my brother David," continued the baronet. "He says
+you will hardly know him."
+
+"She'll hardly believe it. She was very young when she last saw me, and
+the last ten years have made some changes," said Uncle David, laughing
+gently.
+
+At the baronet's allusion to that most difficult subject, the lapse of
+time, Lady May winced and simpered uneasily; but she expanded gratefully
+as David Arden disposed of it so adroitly.
+
+"We'll not speak of years of change. I knew you instantly," said Lady
+May happily. "And you have been to Vichy, Reginald. What stay do you
+make here?"
+
+"None, almost; my crippled foot keeps me always on a journey. It seems a
+paradox, but so it is. I'm ordered to visit Buxton for a week or so, and
+then I go, for change of air, to Yorkshire."
+
+As Alice entered, she saw the pretty face, the original of the brilliant
+portrait which had haunted her on her night journey to Twyford, and she
+heard a very silvery voice chatting gaily. Mr. Longcluse was leaning on
+the end of the sofa on which Grace Maubray sat; and Vivian Darnley, it
+seemed in high spirits, was standing and laughing nearly before her.
+Alice Arden walked quickly over to welcome her handsome guest. With a
+misgiving and a strange pain at her heart, she saw how much more
+beautiful this young lady had grown. Smiling radiantly, with her hand
+extended, she greeted and kissed her fair kinswoman; and, after a few
+words, sat down for a little beside her; and asked Mr. Longcluse how he
+did; and finally spoke to Vivian Darnley, and then returned to her
+conventional dialogue of welcome and politeness with her cousin--_how_
+cousin, she could not easily have explained.
+
+The young ladies seemed so completely taken up with one another that,
+after a little waiting, the gentlemen fell into a desultory talk, and
+grew gradually nearer to the window. They were talking now of dogs and
+horses, and Mr. Longcluse was stealing rapidly into the good graces of
+the young man.
+
+"When we come up after dinner, you must tell me who these people are,"
+said Grace Maubray, who did not care very much what she said. "That
+young man is a Mr. Vivian, ain't he?"
+
+"No--Darnley," whispered Alice; "Vivian is his Christian name."
+
+"Very romantic names; and, if he really means half he says, he is a very
+romantic person." She laughed.
+
+"What has he been saying?" Alice wondered. But, after all, it was
+possible to be romantic on almost any subject.
+
+"And the other?"
+
+"He's a Mr. Longcluse," answered Alice.
+
+"He's rather clever," said the young lady, with a grave decision that
+amused Alice.
+
+"Do you think so? Well, so do I; that is, I know he can interest one. He
+has been almost everywhere, and he tells things rather pleasantly."
+
+Before they could go any further, Vivian Darnley, turning from the
+window toward the two young ladies, said--"I've just been saying that we
+must try to persuade Lady May to get up that party to the Derby."
+
+"I can place a drag at her disposal," said Mr. Longcluse.
+
+"And a splendid team--I saw them," threw in Darnley.
+
+"There's nothing I should like so much," said Alice. "I've never been to
+the Derby. What do you say, Grace? Can you manage Uncle David?"
+
+"I'll try," said the young lady gaily.
+
+"We must all set upon Lady May," said Alice. "She is so good-natured,
+she can't resist us."
+
+"Suppose we begin now?" suggested Darnley.
+
+"Hadn't we better wait till we have her quite to ourselves? Who knows
+what your papa and your uncle might say?" said Grace Maubray, turning to
+Alice. "I vote for saying nothing to them until Lady May has settled,
+and then they must only submit."
+
+"I agree with you quite," said Alice laughing.
+
+"Sage advice!" said Mr. Longcluse, with a smile; "and there's time
+enough to choose a favourable moment. It comes off exactly ten days from
+this."
+
+"Oh, anything might be done in ten days," said Grace. "I'm sorry it is
+so far away."
+
+"Yes, a great deal might be done in ten days; and a great deal might
+happen in ten days," said Longcluse, listlessly looking down at the
+floor--"a great deal might happen."
+
+He thought he saw Miss Arden's eye turned upon him, curiously and
+quickly, as he uttered this common-place speech, which was yet a little
+odd.
+
+"In this busy world, Miss Arden, there is no such thing as quiet, and no
+one acts without imposing on other people the necessity for action,"
+said Mr. Longcluse; "and I believe that often the greatest changes in
+life are the least anticipated by those who seem to bring them about
+spontaneously."
+
+At this moment, dinner being announced, the little party transferred
+itself to the dining-room, and Miss Arden found herself between Mr.
+Longcluse and Uncle David.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVIII.
+
+THE PARTY IN THE DINING-ROOM.
+
+
+And now, all being seated, began the talk and business of dinner.
+
+"I believe," said Mr. Longcluse, with a laugh, "I am growing
+metaphysical."
+
+"Well, shall I confess, Mr. Longcluse, you do sometimes say things that
+are, I fear, a little too wise for my poor comprehension?"
+
+"I don't express them; it is my fault," he answered, in a very low tone.
+"You have _mind_, Miss Arden, for anything. There is no one it is so
+delightful to converse with, owing in part to that very faculty--I mean
+quick apprehension. But I know my own defects. I know how imperfectly I
+often express myself. By-the-way, you seemed to wish to have that
+curious little wild Bohemian air I sang the other night, 'The Wanderer's
+Bride'--the song about the white lily, you know. I ventured to get a
+friend, who really is a very good musician, to make a setting of it,
+which I so very much hope you will like. I brought it with me. You will
+think me very presumptuous, but I hoped so much you might be tempted to
+try it."
+
+When Mr. Longcluse spoke to Alice, it was always in a tone so very
+deferential, that it was next to impossible that a very young girl
+should not be flattered by it--considering, especially, that the man was
+reputed clever, had seen the world, and had met with a certain success,
+and that by no means of a kind often obtained, or ever quite despised.
+There was also a directness in his eulogy which was unusual, and which
+spoken with a different manner would have been embarrassing, if not
+offensive. But in Mr. Longcluse's manner, when he spoke such phrases,
+there appeared a real humility, and even sadness, that the boldness of
+the sentiment was lost in the sincerity and dejection of the speaker,
+which seemed to place him on a sudden at the immeasurable distance of a
+melancholy worship.
+
+"I am so much obliged!" said Alice. "I did wish so much to have it when
+you sang it. It may not do for my voice at all, but I longed to try it.
+When a song is sung so as to move one, it is sure to be looked out and
+learned, without any thought wasted on voice, or skill, or natural
+fitness. It is, I suppose, like the vanity that makes one person dress
+after another. Still, I do wish to sing that song, and I am so much
+obliged!"
+
+From the other side her uncle said very softly--"What do you think of my
+ward, Grace Maubray?"
+
+"Oughtn't I to ask, rather, what you think of her?" she laughed archly.
+
+"Oh! I see," he answered, with a pleasant and honest smile; "you have
+the gift of seeing as far as other clever people into a millstone. But,
+no--though perhaps I ought to thank you for giving me credit for so much
+romance and good taste--I don't think I shall ever introduce you to an
+aunt. You must guess again, if you will have a matrimonial explanation;
+though I don't say there is any such design. And perhaps, if there were,
+the best way to promote it would be to leave the intended hero and
+heroine very much to themselves. They are both very good-looking."
+
+"Who?" asked Alice, although she knew very well whom he meant.
+
+"I mean that pretty creature over there, Grace Maubray, and Vivian
+Darnley," said he quietly.
+
+She smiled, looking very much pleased and very arch.
+
+With how Spartan a completeness women can hide the shootings and
+quiverings of mental pain, and of bodily pain too, when the motive is
+sufficient! Under this latter they are often clamorous, to be sure; but
+the demonstration expresses not want of patience, but the feminine
+yearning for compassion.
+
+"I fancy nothing would please the young rogue Vivian better. I wish I
+were half so sure of her. You girls are so unaccountable, so fanciful,
+and--don't be angry--so uncertain."
+
+"Well, I suppose, as you say, we must only have patience, and leave the
+matter in the hands of Time, who settles most things pretty well."
+
+She raised her eyes, and fancied she saw Grace Maubray at the same
+moment withdraw hers from her face. Lady May was talking from the end of
+the table with Mr. Longcluse.
+
+"Your neighbour who is talking to Lady May is a Mr. Longcluse?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"He is a City notability; but oddly, I never happened to see him till
+this evening. Do you think there is something curious in his
+appearance?"
+
+"Yes, a little, perhaps. Don't you?"
+
+"So odd that he makes my blood run cold," said Uncle David, with a shrug
+and a little laugh. "Seriously, I mean unpleasantly odd. What is Lady
+May talking about? Yes--I thought so--that horrid murder at the 'Saloon
+Tavern.' For so good-natured a person, she has the most bloodthirsty
+tastes I know of; she's always deep in some horror."
+
+"My brother Dick told me that Mr. Longcluse made a speech there."
+
+"Yes, so I heard; and I think he said what is true enough. London is
+growing more and more insecure; and that certainly was a most audacious
+murder. People make money a little faster, that is true; but what is the
+good of money, if their lives are not their own? It is quite true that
+there are streets in London, which I remember as safe as this room,
+through which no one suspected of having five pounds in his pocket could
+now walk without a likelihood of being garotted."
+
+"How dreadful!" said Alice, and Uncle David laughed a little at her
+horror.
+
+"It is too true, my dear. But, to pass to pleasanter subjects, when do
+you mean to choose among the young fellows, and present me to a new
+nephew?" said Uncle David.
+
+"Do you fancy I would tell anyone if I knew?" she answered, laughing.
+"How is it that you men, who are always accusing us weak women of
+thinking of nothing else, can never get the subject of matrimony out of
+your heads? Now, uncle, as you and I may talk confidentially, and at our
+ease, I'll tell you two things. I like my present spinster life very
+well--I should like it better, I think, if it were in the country; but
+town or country, I don't think I should ever like a married life. I
+don't think I'm fit for command."
+
+"Command! I thought the prayer-book said something about obeying, on the
+contrary," said Uncle David.
+
+"You know what I mean. I'm not fit to rule a household; and I am afraid
+I am a little idle, and I should not like to have it to do--and so I
+could never do it well."
+
+"Nevertheless, when the right man comes, he need but beckon with his
+finger, and away you go, Miss Alice, and undertake it all."
+
+"So we are whistled away, like poodles for a walk, and that kind of
+thing! Well, I suppose, uncle, you are right, though I can't see that
+I'm quite so docile a creature. But if my poor sex is so willing to be
+won, I don't know how you are to excuse your solitary state, considering
+how very little trouble it would have taken to make some poor creature
+happy."
+
+"A very fair retort!" laughed Uncle David. And he added, in a changed
+tone, for a sudden recollection of his own early fortunes crossed
+him--"But even when the right man does come, it does not always follow,
+Miss Alice, that he dares make the sign; fate often interposes years,
+and in them death may come, and so the whole card-castle falls."
+
+"I've had a long talk," he resumed, "with Richard; he has made me
+promises, and I hope he will be a better boy for the future. He has been
+getting himself into money troubles, and acquiring--I'm afraid I should
+say cultivating--a taste for play. I know you have heard something of
+this before; I told you myself. But he has made me promises, and I hope,
+for your sake, he'll keep them; because, you know, I and your father
+can't last for ever, and he ought to take care of you; and how can he do
+that, if he's not fit to take care of himself? But I believe there is no
+use in thinking too much about what is to come. One has enough to do in
+the present. I think poor Lady May has been disappointed," he said, with
+a very cautious smile, his eye having glanced for a moment on her; "she
+looks a little forlorn, I think."
+
+"Does she? And why?"
+
+"Well, they say she would not object to be a little more nearly related
+to you than she is."
+
+"You can't mean papa--or _yourself_!"
+
+"Oh, dear, no!" he answered, laughing. "I mean that she misses Dick a
+good deal."
+
+"Oh, dear! uncle, you can't be serious!"
+
+"It might be a very serious affair for her; but I don't know that he
+could do a wiser thing. The old quarrel is still raging, he tells me,
+and that he can't appear in this house."
+
+"It is a great pity," said she.
+
+"Pity! Not at all. They never could agree; and it is much better for
+Dick they should not--on the terms Reginald proposes, at least. I see
+Lady May trying to induce you to make her the sign at which ladies rise,
+and leave us poor fellows to shift for ourselves."
+
+"Ungallant old man! I really believe she is."
+
+And in a moment more the ladies were floating from the room, Vivian
+Darnley standing at the door. Somehow he could not catch Alice's eye as
+they passed; she was smiling an answer to some gabble of Lady May's.
+Grace gave him a very kind look with her fine eyes as she went by; and
+so the young man, who had followed them up the massive stairs with his
+gaze, closed the door and sat down again, before his claret glass, and
+his little broken cluster of grapes, and half-dozen distracted bits of
+candied fruit, and sighed deeply.
+
+"That murder in the City that you were speaking of just now to Lady May
+is a serious business for men who walk the streets, as I do sometimes,
+with money in their pockets," said David Arden, addressing Mr.
+Longcluse.
+
+"So it struck me--one feels that instinctively. When I saw that poor
+little good-natured fellow dead, and thought how easily I might have
+walked in there myself, with the assassin behind me, it seemed to me
+simply the turn of a die that the lot had not fallen upon me," said
+Longcluse.
+
+"He was robbed, too, wasn't he?" croaked Sir Reginald, who was growing
+tired; and with his fatigue came evidences of his temper.
+
+"Oh, yes," said David; "nothing left in his pockets."
+
+"And Laroque, a watchmaker, a relation of his, said he had cheques about
+him, and foreign money," said Longcluse; "but, of course, the cheques
+were not presented, and foreign money is not easily traced in a big town
+like London. I made him a present of ten pounds to stake on the game; I
+could not learn that he did stake it, and I suppose the poor fellow
+intended applying it in some more prudent way. But my present was in
+gold, and that, of course, the robber applied without apprehension."
+
+"Now, you fellows who have a stake in the City, it is a scandal your
+permitting such a state of things to continue," said Sir Reginald;
+"because, though your philanthropy may not be very diffuse, each of you
+cares most tenderly for one individual at least in the human race--I
+mean _self_--and whatever you may think of personal morality, and even
+life--for you don't seem to me to think a great deal of grinding
+operatives in the cranks of your mills, or blowing them up by bursting
+steam-boilers, to say nothing of all the people you poison with
+adulterated food, or with strychnine in beer, or with arsenic in
+candles, or pretty green papers for bed-rooms--or smash or burn alive on
+railways--yet you should, on selfish grounds, set your faces against a
+system of assassination for pocket-books and purses, the sort of things
+precisely you have always about you. Don't you see? And it's
+inconsistent besides, because, as I said, although you care little for
+life--other people's, I mean--in the abstract, yet you care a great deal
+for property. I think it's your idol, by Jove! and worshipping
+money--positively _worshipping_ it, as you do, it seems a scandalous
+inconsistency that you should--of course, I don't mean you two
+individually," he said, perhaps recollecting that he might be going a
+little too fast; "you never, of course, fancied _that_. I mean, of
+course, the class of men we have all heard of, or seen--but I do say,
+with that sort of adoration for money and property, I can't understand
+their allowing their pockets to be profaned and their purses made away
+with."
+
+Sir Reginald, having thus delivered himself with considerable asperity,
+poured some claret into his glass, and pushed the jugs on to his
+brother, and then, closing his eyes, composed himself either to listen
+or to sleep.
+
+"City or country, East End or West End, I fancy we are all equally
+anxious to keep other people's hands out of our pockets," said David
+Arden; "and I quite agree with Mr. Longcluse in all he is reported to
+have said with respect to our police system."
+
+"But is it so certain that the man was robbed?" said Vivian Darnley.
+
+"Everything he had about him was taken," said Mr. Longcluse.
+
+"But they pretend to rob men sometimes, when they murder them, only to
+conceal the real motive," persisted Vivian Darnley.
+
+"Yes, that's quite true; but then there must be _some_ motive," said Mr.
+Longcluse, with something a little supercilious in his smile: "and it
+isn't easy to conceive a motive for murdering a poor little good-natured
+letter of lodgings, a person past the time of life when jealousy could
+have anything to do with it, and a most inoffensive and civil creature.
+I confess, if I were obliged to seek a motive other than the obvious
+one, for the crime, I should be utterly puzzled."
+
+"When I was travelling in Prussia," said Vivian Darnley, "I saw two
+people in different prisons--one a woman, the other a middle-aged
+man--both for murder. They had been found guilty, and had been kept
+there only to get a confession from them before execution. They won't
+put culprits to death there, you know, unless they have first admitted
+their guilt; and one of these had actually confessed. Well, each had
+borne an unexceptionable character up to the time when suspicion was
+accidentally aroused, and then it turned out that they had been
+poisoning and otherwise making away with people, at the rate of two or
+three a year, for half their lives. Now, don't you see, these masked
+assassins, having, as it appeared, absolutely no intelligible motive,
+either of passion or of interest, to commit these murders, could have
+had no inducement, as the woman had actually confessed, except a sort of
+lust of murder. I suppose it is a sort of madness, but these people were
+not otherwise mad; and it is quite possible that the same sort of thing
+may be going on in other places. People say that the police would have
+got a clue to the mystery by means of the foreign coin and the
+bank-notes, if they had not been destroyed."
+
+"But there are traces of organisation," said Mr. Longcluse. "In a
+crowded place like that, such things could hardly be managed without it,
+and insanity such as you describe is very rare; and you'll hardly get
+people to believe in a swell-mob of madmen, committing murder in concert
+simply for the pleasure of homicide. They will all lean to a belief in
+the coarse but intelligible motive of the highwayman."
+
+"I saw in the newspapers," said David Arden, "some evidence of yours,
+Mr. Longcluse, which seemed rather to indicate a particular man as the
+murderer."
+
+"I have my eye upon him," said Longcluse. "There are suspicious
+circumstances. The case in a little time may begin to clear; at present
+the police are only groping."
+
+"That's satisfactory; and those fellows are paid so handsomely for
+groping," said Sir Reginald, opening his eyes suddenly. "I believe that
+we are the worst-governed and the worst-managed people on earth, and
+that our merchants and tradespeople are rich simply by flukes--simply by
+a concurrence of lucky circumstances, with which they have no more to do
+than Prester John or the Man in the Moon. Take a little claret, Mr.
+Longcluse, and send it on."
+
+"No more, thanks."
+
+And all the guests being of the same mind, they marched up the broad
+stairs to the ladies.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIX.
+
+IN MRS. TANSEY'S ROOM.
+
+
+There were sounds of music and laughter faintly audible through the
+drawing-room door. The music ceased as the door opened, and the
+gentlemen entered an atmosphere of brilliant light, and fragrant with
+the pleasant aroma of tea.
+
+"Pray, Miss Arden, don't let us interrupt you," said Mr. Longcluse. "I
+thought I heard singing as we came up the stairs." He had come to the
+piano, and was now at her side.
+
+She did not sing or play, but Vivian Darnley thought that her
+conversation with Longcluse, as, with one knee on his chair, he leaned
+over the back of it and talked, seemed more interesting than usual.
+
+"I say, Reginald," said David Arden softly to his brother, "I must run
+down and pay Martha Tansey my usual visit. She's in her room, I suppose.
+I'll steal away and return quietly."
+
+And so he was gone. He closed the door softly behind him, and slowly
+descended the wide staircase, with many vague conjectures and images
+revolving in his mind. He paused at the great window on the landing, and
+looked out upon the solemn and familiar landscape. A brilliant moon was
+high in the sky, and the stars glimmered brightly. His hand was on the
+window as he looked out, thinking.
+
+Uncle David was a man impulsive, prompt, sanguine--a temperament, in
+short, which, directed by an able intellect, would have made a good
+general. When an idea had got into his head, he could not rest until he
+had worked it out. On the whole, throughout his life these fits of
+sudden and feverish concentration had been effective, and aided his
+fortunes. It is, perhaps, an unbusiness-like temperament; but commercial
+habits and example had failed to control that natural ardour, and, when
+once inflamed, it governed his actions implicitly.
+
+An idea, very vague, very little the product of reason, had now taken
+possession of his brain, and he relied upon it as an intuition. He had
+been thinking over it. It first warmed, then simmered, then, as it were,
+boiled. The process had been one of an hour and more, as he sat at his
+brother's table and took his share in the conversation. When the steam
+got up and the pressure rose to the point of action, forth went Uncle
+David to have his talk with his early friend Tansey. He stopped, as I
+have said, at the great window on the staircase, and looked out and up.
+The moon was splendid; the stars were glimmering brightly; they looked
+down like a thousand eyes set upon him, to watch the prowess and
+perseverance of the man on whom fate had imposed a mission.
+
+Some idea like this seized him, for, like many men of a similar
+temperament, he had an odd and unconfessed vein of poetry in his nature.
+He had looked out and up in a listless abstraction, and the dark heaven
+above him, brilliant with its eternal lights, had for a moment withdrawn
+and elevated his thoughts as if he had entered a cathedral.
+
+"What specks and shadows we are, and how eternal is duty! And if we are
+in another place to last like those unfailing lights--to become happy or
+wretched, and, in either state, indestructible for ever--what signify
+the labour and troubles of life, compared with that by which our
+everlasting fate is fixed? God help us! Am I consulting revenge or
+conscience in pursuing this barren inquiry? Do I mistake for the sublime
+impulse of conscience a vulgar thirst for blood? I think not. I never
+harboured malice; I hate punishing people. But murder is a crime against
+God himself, respecting which he imposes duties upon man, and seconds
+them by all the instincts of affection. Dare I neglect them, then, in
+the case of poor loving Harry, my brother?"
+
+The drawing-room door had been opened a little, the night being sultry,
+and through it now came the clear tones of a well-taught baritone. It
+was singing a slow and impassioned air, and its tones, though sweet,
+chilled him with a strange pain. It seemed like instinct that told him
+it was the stranger's voice. One moment's thought would have proved it
+equally. There was no one else present to suspect but Vivian Darnley,
+and he was no musician; but to David Arden it seemed that if a hundred
+people were there he should have felt it all the same, and intuitively
+recognised it as Longcluse's voice.
+
+"What is it in that voice which is so hateful? What is it in that
+passion which sounds insincere? What gives to those sweet tones a latent
+discord, that creeps so coldly through my nerves?"
+
+So thought David Arden, as, with one hand still upon the window-sash, he
+listened and turned toward the open door, with a frown akin to one of
+pain.
+
+Spell-bound, he listened till the song was over, and sighed and shook
+his ears with a sort of shudder when the music ceased.
+
+"I don't know why I stayed to listen. Face--voice--what is the agency
+about that fellow? I daresay I'm a fool, but I can't help it, and I must
+bring the idea to the test."
+
+He descended the stairs slowly, crossed the hall, and walked
+thoughtfully down the passage leading to the housekeeper's room. At this
+hour the old woman had it usually to herself. He knocked at the
+housekeeper's door, and recognised the familiar voice that answered.
+
+"How do you do, Martha?" said he, striding cheerily into the room.
+
+"Ah! Master David? So it is, sure!"
+
+"Ay, sure and sure, Martha," said he, taking the old woman's hand, with
+his kind smile. "And how are you, Martha? Tell me how you are."
+
+"I won't say much. I'm not so canty as you'll mind me. I'm an old wife
+now, Master David, and not much for this world, I'm thinking," she
+answered dolorously.
+
+"You may outlive much younger people, Martha; we are all in the hands of
+God," said David, smiling. "It seems to me but yesterday that I and poor
+Harry used to run in here to you from our play in the grounds, and you
+had always a bit of something for us hungry fellows to eat, come when we
+might."
+
+"Ah, ha! Yes, ye were hungry fellows then--spirin' up, fine tall lads.
+Reginald was never like ye; he was seven years older than you. And
+hungry? Yes! The cold turkey and ham, ye mind--by Jen! I _have_ seen ye
+eat hearty; and pancakes--ye liked them best of all. And it went a' into
+a good skin. I will say--you and Master Harry (God be wi' him!) a fine,
+handsome pair o' lads ye were. And you're a handsome fellow still,
+Master David, and might have married well, no doubt; but man proposes
+and God disposes, and time and tide 'll wait for no man, and what's one
+man's meat's another man's poison. Who knows and all may be for the
+best? And that Mr. Longcluse is dining here to-day?" she added, not very
+coherently, and with a sudden gloom.
+
+"Yes, Martha, that Mr. Longcluse is dining here to-day; and Master Dick
+tells me you did not fall in love with him at first sight, when they
+paid you a visit here. Is that true?"
+
+"I don't know. I don't know what. The sight of him--or the sound of his
+voice, I don't know which--gave me a turn," said the old woman.
+
+"Well, Martha, I don't like his face, either. He gave me, also, what you
+call a turn. He's very pale, and I felt as if I had been frightened by
+him when I was a child; and yet he must be some five and twenty years
+younger than I am, and I'm almost certain I never saw him before. So I
+say it must be something that's no' canny as you used to say. What do
+you think, Martha?"
+
+"Ye may be funnin', Master David. Ye were always a canty lad. But it's
+o'er true. I can't bring to mind what it is--I can't tell--but something
+in that man's face gev me a sten. I conceited I was just goin' to
+swound; and he looked sa straight at me, like a ghost."
+
+"Master Richard says you looked very hard at Mr. Longcluse; you had both
+a good stare at each other," said Uncle David. "He thought there was
+going to be a recognition."
+
+"Did I? Well, no: I don't know him, I _think_. 'Tis all a jummlement,
+like. I couldn't bring nout to mind."
+
+"I know, Martha, you liked poor Harry well," said David Arden, not with
+a smile, but with a very sad countenance.
+
+"That I did," said Mrs. Tansey.
+
+"And I think you like me, Martha?"
+
+"Ye're not far wrong there, Master David."
+
+"And for both our sakes--for mine and his, for the dead no less than the
+living--I am sure you won't allow any thought of trouble, or
+nervousness, or fear of lawyers' browbeating, or that sort of thing, to
+deter you from saying, wherever and whenever justice may require it,
+everything you know or suspect respecting that dreadful occurrence."
+
+"The death o' Master Harry, ye mean!" exclaimed Mrs. Tansey sternly,
+drawing herself up on a sudden, with a pale frown, and looking full at
+him. "_Me_ to hide or hold back aught that could bring the truth to
+light! Oh! Master David, do you know what ye're sayin'?"
+
+"Perfectly," said he, with a melancholy smile; "and I am glad it vexes
+you, Martha, because I need no answer on that point more than your
+honest voice and face."
+
+"Keep back aught, man!" she repeated, striking her hand on the table.
+"Why, lad, I'd lose that old hand under the chopper for one gliff o' the
+truth into that damned story. Why, lawk! where's yer head, boy? Wasn't I
+maist killed myself, for sake o' him that night?"
+
+"Ay, Martha, brave girl, I'm satisfied; and I ask your pardon for the
+question. But years bring alteration, you know; and I'm changed in mind
+myself in many ways I never could have believed. And everyone doesn't
+see with me that it is our duty to explore a crime like that, to track
+the villain, if we can, and bring him to justice. _You_ do, Martha; but
+there are many in whose veins poor Harry's blood is running, who don't
+feel like you. Master Richard said that the gentleman looked as if he
+did not know what to make of you; 'and, by Jove!' said he, '_I_ didn't
+either--Martha stared so.'"
+
+"I couldn't help. 'Twas scarce civil; but truly I couldn't, Sir," said
+Martha Tansey, who had by this time recovered her equanimity. "He did
+remind me of summat."
+
+"We will talk of that by-and-by, Martha; we will try to recall it. What
+I want you first to tell me is exactly your recollection of the
+lamentable occurrence of that night. I have a full note of it at home;
+but I have not looked at it for years, and I want my recollection
+confirmed to-night, that you and I may talk over some possibilities
+which I should like to examine with your help."
+
+"I can talk of it now," said the old woman; "but for many a year after
+it happened I dare not. I could not sleep for many a night after I told
+it to anyone. But now I can bear it. So, Master David, you may ask what
+you please."
+
+"First let me hear your recollection of what happened," said David
+Arden.
+
+"Ay, Master David, that I will. Sit ye down, for my old bones won't
+carry me standing no time now, and sit I must. Right well ye're lookin',
+and right glad am I to see it, Master David; and ye were always a
+handsome laddie. God bless ye, and God be wi' the old times! And poor
+Master Harry--poor laddie!--I liked him well. You two looked beautiful,
+walkin' up to t' house together--two conny, handsome boys ye were."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XX.
+
+MRS. TANSEY'S STORY.
+
+
+"The sun don't touch these windows till nigh nightfall. In the short
+days o' winter, the last sunbeam at the settin' just glints along the
+wall, and touches a sprig or two o' them scarlet geraniums on the
+windastone. 'Tis a cold room, Master David. In summer evenins, like
+this, ye have just a chilly flush o' the sun settin', and, before it's
+well on the windas, the bats and beetles is abroad, and the moth is
+flittin', and the gloamin' fa's," said the old woman. "The windas looks
+to the west, but also a bit to the north, ye'll mind, and that's the
+cause o't. I don't complain. I ha' suffered it these thirty years and
+more, and 'tain't worth while, for the few years that's left, makin' a
+blub and a blither about it. I'm an old wife now, Master David, and
+there can't be many more years for me left aboon the grass, sa I e'en
+let be and taks the world easy, ye see; and that's the reason I aye keep
+a bit o' wood burnin' on the hearth--it keeps the life in my old
+bones--and I hope it ain't too warm for you, Master David?"
+
+"Not a bit, Martha. This side of the house is cool. I remember that our
+room, when we were boys, looked out from it, high up, you recollect, and
+it never was hot."
+
+"That's it, ye were in the top o' the house; and poor Harry, wi' his
+picturs o' horses and dogs hangin' up on the wa's. Lawk! it seems but
+last week. How the years flits! I often thinks of him. See what a moon
+there is to-night. 'Twas just such a moon that night, only frostier, ye
+see--the same clear sky and bright moon; 'twould make ye wink to look
+at. Ye're not too hot wi' that bit o' wood lightin' in the grate?"
+
+"I like the fire, Martha, and I like the moon, and I like your company
+best of all."
+
+The truth was, he did like the flicker of the wood fire. The flame was
+cheery, and took off something of the dismal shadow that stole over
+everything whenever he applied his affectionate mind to the horrors of
+the dreadful night on which he was now ruminating. One of the
+window-shutters was open, and the chill brilliancy of the moon, and the
+deep blue sky, were serenely visible over the black foreground of trees.
+The wavering of the redder light of the fire, as its reflection spread
+and faded upon the wainscot, was warm and pleasant; and, had their talk
+been of less ghastly things, would have brightened their thoughts with a
+sense of comfort.
+
+"I have not very long to stay, Martha," said David Arden, looking at his
+watch, "so tell me your recollection as accurately as you can. Let me
+hear _that_ first; and then I want to ask you for some particular
+information, which I am sure you can give me."
+
+"Why not? Who should I give it sooner to? Will ye take a cup o' coffee?
+No. Well, a glass o' curaçoa? No. And what will ye take?"
+
+"You forget that I have taken everything, and come to you with all my
+wants supplied. So now, dear Martha, let me hear it all."
+
+"I'll tell ye all about it. I was younger and stronger, mind, than I am
+now, by twenty years and more. 'Tis a short time to look back on, but a
+good while passing, and leaves many a gap and change, and many a scar
+and wrinkle."
+
+There was a palpable tremble always in Mrs. Tansey's voice, in the thin
+hand she extended towards him, and in the head from which her old eyes
+glittered glassily on him.
+
+"The road is very lonely by night--the loneliest road in all England.
+When it passes ten o'clock, you might listen till cock-crow for a
+footfall. Well, I, and Thomas Ridley, and Anne Haslett, was all the
+people at Mortlake just then, the family being in the North, except
+Master Harry. He went to a race across country, that was run that day;
+and he told me, laughing, he would not ask me to throw an old shoe after
+him, as he stood sure to win two thousand pounds. And away he went,
+little thinking, him and me, how our next meetin' would be. At that time
+old Tom Clinton--ye'll mind Clinton?"
+
+"To be sure I do," acquiesced David Arden.
+
+"Well, Tom was in the gatehouse then; after he died, his daughter's
+husband got it, ye know. And when he had outstayed his time by two
+hours--for he was going northwards in the morning, and told me he'd be
+surely back before ten--I began to grow frightened, and I put on my
+bonnet and cloak, and down I runs to the gatehouse, and knocks up Tom
+Clinton. It was nigh twelve o'clock then. When Tom came to the door,
+having dressed in haste, I said, 'Tom, which way will Master Harry
+return? he's not been since.' And says Tom, 'If he's comin' straight
+from the course, he'll come down from the country; but if he's dinin'
+instead in London, he'll come up the Islington way.' 'Well,' said I, 'go
+you, Tom, to the turn o' the road, and look and listen for sight or
+sound, and bring me word.' I don't know what was frightenin' me. He was
+often later, and I never minded; but something that night was on my
+mind, like a warning, for I couldn't get the fear out o' my heart. Well,
+who comes ridin' back but Dick Wallock, the groom, that had drove away
+with him in the gig in the mornin'; and glad I was to see his face at
+the gate. It was bright moonlight, and says I, 'Dick, how is Master
+Harry? Is all well with him?' So he tells me, ay, all was well, and he
+goin' to drive the gig out himself from town. He was at a
+place--_you'll_ mind the name of it--where it turned out they played
+cards and dice, and won and lost like--like fools, or worse, as some o'
+them no doubt was. 'Well,' says I, 'go you up, as he told you, with the
+horse, and I'll stay here till he comes back, if it wasn't till
+daybreak.' For all the time, ye see, my heart misgave me that there was
+summat bad to happen; and when Tom Clinton came back, says I, 'Tom, you
+go in, and get to your room, and let me sit down in your kitchen; and
+I'll let him in when he comes, for I can't go up to the house, nor close
+an eye, till he comes.' Well, it was a full hour after, and I was
+sittin' in the kitchen window that looks out on the road, starin' wide
+awake, and lookin', now one way and now another, up and down, when I
+hears the clink of a footfall on the stones, and a tall, ill-favoured
+man walks slowly by, and turns his face toward the window as he passed."
+
+"You saw him distinctly, then?" said David.
+
+"As plain as ever I saw you. An ill-favoured fellow in a light drab
+great coat wi' a cape to it. He looked white wi' fear, and wild big
+eyes, and a high hooked nose--a tall chap wi' his hands in his pockets,
+and a low-crowned hat on. He went on slow, till a whistle sounded, and
+then he ran down the road a bit toward the signal."
+
+"That was toward the Islington side?"
+
+"Ay, Sir, and I grew more uneasy. I was scared wi' the sight o' such a
+man at that time o' night, in that lonesome place, and the whistlin' and
+runnin'."
+
+"Did you see the same man again that night?" asked David.
+
+"Yes, 'twas the same I saw afterwards--Lord ha' mercy on us! I saw him
+again, at his murderin' work. Oh, Master David! it makes my brain wild,
+and my skin creep, to think o' that sight."
+
+"I did wrong to interrupt you; tell it your own way, Martha, and I can
+afterwards ask you the questions that lie near my heart," said Mr.
+Arden.
+
+"'Tis easy told, Sir; the candle was burnt down almost in the socket,
+and I went to look out another--but before I could find one, it went
+out. 'Twas but a stump I found and lighted, after I saw that fellow in
+the light drab surtout go by. I wished to let them know, if they had any
+ill design, there was folks awake in the lodge. But he was gone by
+before I found the matches, and now that he was comin' again, the candle
+went out--things goes so cross. It was to be, ye see. Well, while I was
+rummagin' about, looking for a candle, I heard the sound of a horse
+trotting hard, and wheels rollin' along; so says I, 'Thank God!' for
+then I was sure it must be Harry, poor lad. So I claps on my bonnet, and
+out wi' me, wi' t' key. I thought I heard voices, as the hoofs and
+wheels came clinkin' up to the gate; but I could not be quite sure. I
+was huffed wi' Master Harry for the long wait he gev me, and the fright,
+and I took my time comin' round the corner of the gatehouse. And thinks
+I to myself, he'll be offerin' me a seat in the gig up to the house, but
+I won't take it. God forgi'e me for them angry thoughts to the poor
+laddie that I was never to have a word wi' more! When I came to the gate
+there was never a call, and nothing but voices talking and gaspin' like,
+under their breath a'most, and a queer scufflin' sound, that I could not
+make head nor tail on. So I unlocked the wicket, and out wi' me, and,
+Lord ha' mercy on us, what a sight for me! The gig was there, with its
+shafts on the ground, and its back cocked up, and the iron-grey flat on
+his side, lashin' and scramblin', poor brute, and two villains in the
+gig, both pullin' at poor Master Harry, one robbin', and t'other
+murderin' him. I took one o' them--a short, thick fellow--by the skirt
+o' his coat, to drag him out, and I screamed for Tom Clinton to come
+out. The short fellow turned, and struck at me wi' somethin'; but, lucky
+for me, 'appen, the lashin' horse that minute took me on the foot, and
+brought me down. But up I scrambles wi' a stone in my hand, and I shied
+it, the best I could, at the head o' the villain that was killin' Master
+Harry. But what can a woman do? It did not go nigh him, I'm thinkin'. I
+was, all the time, calling on Tom to come, and cryin' 'Murder!' that
+you'd think my throat'd split. That bloody wretch in the gig had got
+poor Master Harry's head back over the edge of it, and his knee to his
+chest, a-strivin' to break his neck across the back-rails; and poor dear
+lad, Master Harry, he just scritched, 'Yelland Mace! for God's sake!'
+They were the last words I ever heard from him, and I'll never forget
+that horrid scritch, nor the face of the villain that was over him, like
+a beast over its prey. He was tuggin' at his throat, like you'd be
+tryin' to tear up a tree by the roots--you never see such a face. His
+teeth was set, and the froth comin' through, and his black eyebrows
+screwed together, you'd think they'd crack the thin hooked nose of him
+between them, and he pantin' like a wild beast. He looked like a madman,
+I tell you; 'twas bright moonlight, and the trees bare, and the shadows
+of the branches was switchin' across his face."
+
+"You saw that face distinctly?" asked David Arden.
+
+"As clear as yours this minute."
+
+"Now tell me--and think first--was he a bit like that Mr. Longcluse
+whose appearance startled you the other evening?" asked Mr. Arden, in a
+very low tone, with his eyes fixed on her intensely.
+
+"No, no, no! not a bit. He had a small mouth and white teeth, and a
+great beak of a nose. No, no, no! not he. I saw him strike somethin'
+that shone--a knife or a dagger--into the poor lad's throat, and he
+struck it down at my head, as you know, and I mind nothin' after that.
+I'll carry the scar o' that murderer's blow to my grave. There's the
+whole story, and God forgi'e ye for asking me, for it gi'es me t'
+creepins for a week after; and I didn't conceit 'twould 'a' made me sa
+excited, Sir, or I would not 'a' bargained to tell it to-night--not that
+I blame ye, Master David, for I thought, myself, that I could bear it
+better--and I do believe, as I have gone so far in it, 'tis better to
+make one job of it, and a finish. So ye'll ask me any question ye like,
+and I'll make the best answer I can; only, Master David, ye'll not be
+o'er long about it?"
+
+"You are a good creature, Martha. I am sorry to pain you, but I pain
+myself, and you know why I ask these questions."
+
+"Ay, Sir, and I'd rather hear ye ask them than see you sit as easy under
+all that as some does, that owed the poor fellow as much love as ever
+you did, and were as near akin."
+
+"I am puzzled, Martha, and hitherto I have been baffled, but I won't
+give it up yet. You say that the wretch who struck you was a
+singular-looking man, at least as you describe him. I know, Martha, I
+can rely upon your caution--you will not repeat to any one what passes
+in our interview." He lowered his voice. "You do not think that this Mr.
+Longcluse--a rich gentleman, you know and a person who thinks he's of
+some consequence, a person whom we must not look at, you know, as if he
+had two heads--you really don't think that this Mr. Longcluse has any
+resemblance to the villain whom you saw stab my brother, and who struck
+you?"
+
+"Not he--no more than I have. No, no, Mr. Longcluse is quite another
+sort of face; but for all that, when he came in here, and I saw him
+before me, his face and his speech reminded me of that night."
+
+"How was that, Martha? Did he resemble the other man--the man who was
+aiding?"
+
+"That fellow was hanged, ye'll mind, Master David."
+
+"Yes, but a likeness might have struck and startled you."
+
+"No, Sir--no, Master David, not him; surely not him. I can't bring it to
+mind, but it frightens me. It _is_ queer, Sir. All I can say for certain
+is this, Master David. The minute I heard his voice, and got sight of
+his face, like that," and she dropped her hand on the table, "the
+thought of that awful night came back, bright and cold, Sir, and them
+black shadows--'twas all about me, I can't tell how, and I hope I may
+never see him again."
+
+"Do you think there was another man by, besides the two villains in the
+gig?" suggested David Arden.
+
+"Not a living soul except them and myself. Poor Master Harry said to Tom
+Clinton, ye'll mind, for he lived half-an-hour after, and spoke a
+little, though faint and with great labour, and says he, 'There were
+two: Yelland Mace killed me, and Tom Todry took the money.' Tom Clinton
+heard him say that, and swore to it before the justice o' peace, and
+after, on the trial. No, no, there wasn't a soul there but they two
+villains, and the poor dear lad they murdered, and me and Tom Clinton,
+that might as well 'a' bin in York for any good we did. Oh, no, Heaven
+forbid I should be so unmannerly as to compare a gentleman like Mr.
+Longcluse to such folk as that! Oh, lawk, no, Sir! But there's
+something, there's a look--or a sound in his voice--I can't get round it
+quite--but it reminds me of something about that night, with a start
+like, I can't tell how--something unlucky and awful--and I would not see
+him again for a deal."
+
+"Well, Martha, a thousand thanks. I'm puzzled, as I said. Perhaps it is
+only something strange in his face that caused that odd misgiving. For
+_I_ who saw but one of the wretches engaged in the crime, the man who
+was convicted, who certainly did not in the slightest degree resemble
+Mr. Longcluse, experienced the same unpleasant sensation on first seeing
+him. I don't know how it is, Martha, but the idea clings to me, as it
+does to you. Some light may come. Something may turn up. I can't get it
+out of my mind that somehow--it may be circuitously--he has, at least,
+got the thread in his fingers that may lead us right. Good-night,
+Martha. I have got the Bible with large print you wished for; I hope you
+will like the binding. And now, God bless you! It is time I should bid
+them good-night up-stairs. Farewell, my good old friend." And, so
+saying, he shook her hard and shrivelled hand.
+
+His steps echoed along the long tiled passage, with its one dim light,
+and his mind was still haunted by its one obscure idea.
+
+"It is strange," he thought, "that Martha and I--the only two living
+persons, I believe, who care still for poor Harry, and feel alike
+respecting the expiation that is due to his memory--should both have
+been struck with the same odd feeling on seeing Longcluse. From that
+white sinister face, it seems to me, I know not why, will shine the
+light that will yet clear all up."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXI.
+
+A WALK BY MOONLIGHT.
+
+
+While Martha Tansey was telling her grisly story in the housekeeper's
+room, and David Arden listening to the oft-told tale, for the sake of
+the possible new lights which the narration might throw upon his present
+theory, the little party in the drawing-room had their music and their
+talk. Mr. Longcluse sang the song which, standing beside Uncle David on
+the landing, near the great window on the staircase, we have faintly
+heard; and then he sang that other song, of the goblin wooer, at Alice's
+desire.
+
+"Was the poor girl fool enough to accept his invitation?" inquired Miss
+Maubray.
+
+"That I really can't say," laughed Mr. Longcluse.
+
+"Yes, indeed, poor thing! I so hope she didn't," said Lady May.
+
+"It's very likely she did," interposed Sir Reginald, opening his
+eyes--every one thought he was dozing--"nothing more foolish, and
+therefore, nothing more likely. Besides, if she didn't, she probably did
+worse. Better to go straight to the----"
+
+"Oh, dear Reginald!" exclaimed Lady May.
+
+"Than by a tedious circumbendibus. I suppose her parents highly
+disapproved of the goblin; wasn't that alone an excellent reason for
+going away with him?"
+
+And Sir Reginald closed his eyes again.
+
+"Perhaps," said Miss Maubray aside to Vivian Darnley, "that romantic
+young lady may have had a cross papa, and thought that she could not
+change very much for the worse."
+
+"Shall I tell that to Sir Reginald?--it would amuse him," inquired
+Darnley.
+
+"Not as my remark; but I make you a present of it."
+
+"Thanks; but that, even with your permission, would be a plagiarism, and
+robbing you of his applause."
+
+Vivian Darnley was very inattentive to his own nonsense. He was talking
+very much at random, for his mind, and occasionally his eyes, were
+otherwise occupied.
+
+Alice Arden was sitting near the piano, and talking to Mr. Longcluse.
+
+"Is that meant to be a ghost, I wonder, in our sense, like the ghost of
+Wilhelm in the ballad of Leonora? or is the lover a demon?"
+
+"A demon, surely," answered Longcluse, "a spirit appointed to her
+destruction. In an old ghostly writer there is a Latin sentence,
+_Unicuique nascenti, adest dæmon vitæ mystagogus_, which I will
+translate, 'There is present at the birth of every human being a demon,
+who is the conductor of his life.' Be it fortunate, or be it direful, to
+this supernatural influence he owes it all. So they thought; and to
+families such a demon is allotted also, and they prosper or wane as his
+function is ordained. I wonder whether such demons ever enter into human
+beings, and, in the shape of living men, haunt, plague, and ruin their
+predestinated victims."
+
+This sort of mysticism for a time they talked, and then wandered away to
+other themes, and the talk grew general; and Mr. Longcluse, with a pang,
+discovered that it was late. He had something on his mind that night. He
+had an undivulged use, also, to which to apply David Arden. As the hour
+drew near it weighed more and more heavily at his heart. That hour must
+be observed; he wished to be away before it arrived. There was still
+ample time; but Lady May was now talking of going, and he made up his
+mind to say farewell.
+
+Lingeringly Mr. Longcluse took his leave. But go he must; and so, a last
+touch of the hand, a last look, and the parting is over. Down-stairs he
+runs; his groom and his brougham are at the door. What a glorious moon!
+The white light upon all things around is absolutely dazzling. How sharp
+and black the shadows! How light and filmy rises the old house! How
+black the nooks of the thick ivy! Every drop of dew that hangs upon its
+leaves, or on the drooping stalks of the neglected grass, is transmuted
+into a diamond. As he stands for an instant upon the broad platform of
+the steps, he looks round him with a deep sigh, and with a strange smile
+of rapture. The man standing with the open door of the brougham in his
+hand caught his eye.
+
+"Go you down as far as the little church, before you reach the 'Guy of
+Warwick,' in the village, quite close to this--you know it--and wait
+there for me. I shall walk."
+
+The man touched his hat, shut the door, and mounted the box beside the
+driver, and away went the brougham. Mr. Longcluse lit a cigarette, and
+slowly walked down the broad avenue after the vehicle. By the time he
+had got about half-way, he heard the iron gates swing together, the
+sound of the wheels was lost in distance, and the feeling of seclusion
+returned. In the same vague intoxication of poetry and romance, he
+paused and looked round again, and sighed. The trunk of a great tree
+overthrown in the last year's autumnal gales, with some of its boughs
+lopped off, lay on the grass at the edge of the avenue. There remained a
+little of his cigarette to smoke, and the temptation of this natural
+seat was irresistible; so he took it, and smoked, and gazed, and
+dreamed, and sometimes, as he took the cigarette from his lips, he
+sighed--never was man in a more romantic vein. He looked back on the
+noble front of the picturesque old house. The cold moonlight gleamed on
+most of the window-panes: but from a few tall windows glowed faintly the
+warmer light of candles. If anyone had ever felt the piercing storms of
+life, the treachery of his species, and the mendacity of the illusions
+that surround us, Longcluse was that man. He had accepted the conditions
+of life, and was a man of the world; but no boy of eighteen was ever
+more in love than he at this moment.
+
+Gazing back at the dim glow that flushed through the tall window-blinds
+of the distant drawing-room, his fancy weaving all those airy dreams
+that passion lives in, this pale, solitary man--whom no one quite knew,
+who trusted no one, who had his peculiar passions, his sorrows, his
+fears, and strange remembrances; everything connected with his origin,
+vicissitudes, and character, except this one wild hope, locked up, as it
+were, in an iron casket, and buried in a grave fathoms deep--was now
+floated back, he knew not how, to that time of sweet perturbation and
+agonising hope at which the youth of Shakespeare's time were wont to
+sigh like a furnace, and indite woeful ballads to their mistress's
+eyebrows. Now he saw lights in an upper room. Imagination and conjecture
+were in a moment at work. No servant's apartment, its dimensions were
+too handsome; and had not Sir Reginald mentioned that his room was upon
+a level with the hall? Just at this moment Lady May's carriage drove
+down the avenue and past him. Yes, she had run up direct to her room on
+bidding Lady May good-night. How he drank in these rosy lights through
+his dark eyes! and how their tremble seemed to quicken the pulsations of
+his heart! Gradually his thoughts saddened, and his face grew dark.
+
+"Two doors in life--only in this life, if all bishops and curates speak
+truth--one or other shut for ever in the next. The gate to heaven, the
+gate to hell. Heaven! _Facilis decensus._ Life is such a sophism. Yet
+even those canting dogs in the pulpit can't bark away the truth. God
+sees not with our eyes! Revealed religion--Mahomet, Moses, Mormon,
+Borgia! What is the first lesson inscribed by his Maker on every man's
+heart, instinct, intellect? I read the mandate thus: 'Take the best care
+you can of number one.' Bah! 'It is he that hath made us, and not we
+ourselves.'"
+
+Uncle David's carriage now drove by.
+
+"There goes that sharp girl--pretty, vain--and they're all vain; they
+ought to be vain; they could not please if they were not. Vain she
+is--devoured, mind, soul, passion, by vanity. Yes, and power--the lust
+of power, conquest, acquisition. She's greedy and crafty, I daresay. Oh!
+Alice, who was ever quite like you? The most beautiful, the best, my
+darling! Oh! enchantress, work the miracle, and make this forlorn man
+what he might be!"
+
+It passed like a magic-lantern picture, and was gone. The distant clang
+of the iron gate was heard again, the avenue was deserted and silent,
+and Longcluse once more alone in his dream. He was looking towards the
+house, sometimes breaking into a few murmured words, sometimes smoking,
+and just as his cigarette was out he saw a figure approaching. It was
+Uncle David, who was walking down the avenue. It so happened that his
+mind was at that moment busy with Mr. Longcluse, and it was with an odd
+little shock, therefore, that he saw the very man--whom he fancied by
+that time to be at least two miles away--rise up in his path, and stand
+before him, smiling, in the moonlight.
+
+"Oh!--Mr. Longcluse?" exclaimed David Arden, coming suddenly to a halt.
+
+"So it is," said Longcluse, with a little laugh. "You are surprised to
+find me here, and I fancied I had seen your carriage go on."
+
+"So you did; it is waiting near the gate for me. Can I give you a seat
+into town?"
+
+"Thanks," said Longcluse, smiling; "mine is waiting for me a little
+further on."
+
+Longcluse walked slowly on toward the gate, with David Arden at his
+side.
+
+"My ward, Miss Maubray, has gone on with Lady May, and Darnley went with
+them. So I'm not such a brute as I should be if I were making a young
+lady wait while I was enjoying the moonlight."
+
+"It was this wonderful moon that led me, also, into this night-ramble on
+foot," said Mr. Longcluse; "I found the temptation absolutely
+irresistible."
+
+As they thus talked, Mr. Longcluse had formed the resolution of choosing
+that moment for a confidence which, considering how slender was his
+acquaintance with Mr. David Arden, was, to say the least, a little bold
+and odd. They had not very far to walk before reaching the gate, so, a
+little abruptly turning the course of their talk, Mr. Longcluse said,
+with a chilly little laugh, and a smile more pallid than ever in the
+moonlight--
+
+"By-the-bye, we were talking of that shocking occurrence in the Saloon
+Tavern; and connected with it, I have had two threatening letters."
+
+"Indeed!" said David Arden.
+
+"Fact, I assure you," said Mr. Longcluse, with a shrug and another cold
+little laugh.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXII.
+
+MR. LONGCLUSE MAKES AN ODD CONFIDENCE.
+
+
+David Arden looked at Mr. Longcluse with a sudden glance, that was, for
+a moment, shrinking and sharp. This confidence connected with such a
+scene chimed in, with a harmony that was full of pain, with the utterly
+vague suspicions that had somehow got into his imagination.
+
+"Yes, and I have been a little puzzled," continued Longcluse. "They say
+the man who is his own lawyer has a fool for his client; but there are
+other things besides law to which the spirit of the canon more strongly
+still applies. I think you could give me just the kind of advice I need,
+if you were not to think my asking it too great a liberty. I should not
+dream of doing so if the matter were simply a private one, and began and
+ended in myself; but you will see in a moment that public interests of
+some value are involved, and I am a little doubtful whether the course I
+am taking is in all respects the right one. I have had two threatening
+letters; would you mind glancing at them? The moon is so brilliant, one
+has no difficulty in reading. This is the first. And may I ask you,
+kindly, until I shall have determined, I hope, with your aid, upon a
+course, to treat the matter as quite between ourselves? I have mentioned
+it to but one other person."
+
+"Certainly," said David, "you have a right to your own terms."
+
+He took the letter and stopped short where he was, unfolding it. The
+light was quite sufficient, and he read the odd and menacing letter
+which Mr. Longcluse had received a few evenings before, as we know, at
+Lady May's. It was to the following effect:
+
+    "SIR,--The unfortunate situation in which you stand, the proof being
+    so, as you must suppose, makes it necessary for you to act
+    considerately, and no nonsense can be permitted by your well
+    wishers. The poor man has his conscience all one as as the rich, and
+    must be cautious as well as him. I can not put myself in no dainger
+    for you, Sir, nor won't hold back the truth, so welp me. I have
+    heerd tell of your boote bin took away. I would be happy to lend an
+    and, Sir, to recover that property. How all will end otherwise I
+    regrett. Knowing well who it will be that takes so mutch consern for
+    your safety, you cannot doubt who I am, and if you wishes to meat me
+    quiet to consult, you need only to name the place and time in the
+    times newspaper, which I sees it every day. It must be put part in
+    one days times, for the daite, saying a friend will show on sich a
+    night, and in next days times for the place, saying the dogs will
+    meet at sich and sich a place, and it shall hev the attenshen of
+    your
+
+    FAST FREND."
+
+"That's a cool letter, upon my word," said David Arden. "Have you an
+idea who wrote it?"
+
+"Yes, a very good guess. I'll tell you all that if you allow me, just
+now. I should say, indeed, an absolute certainty, for I have had another
+this afternoon with the name of the writer signed, and he turns out to
+be the very man whom I suspected. Here it is."
+
+David Arden's curiosity was piqued. He took the last note and read as
+follows:--
+
+    "SIR,--My last Letter must have came to Hand, and you been in reseet
+    of it since the 11th instant, has took no Notice thereoff, I have No
+    wish for justice, as you may Suppose, and has no Fealing against you
+    Mr. Longcluse Persanelly and to shew you plainly that Such is the
+    case, I will meet you for an intervue if such is your Wishes in your
+    Own house, if you should Rayther than name another place. I do not
+    objeck To one frend been Present providing such Be not a lawyer. The
+    subjek been Dellicat, I will Attend any hour and Place you appoint.
+    If you should faile I must put my Proofs in the hands of the police,
+    for I will take it for a sure sine of guilt if you fail after this
+    to appoint for a meating.
+
+    "I remain, Sir, Your obedient servent,
+    "PAUL DAVIES.
+
+    "No. 2 Rosemary Court."
+
+"Well, that's pretty frank," said Longcluse, observing that he had read
+to the end.
+
+"Extremely. What do you suppose his object to be--to extort money?"
+
+"Possibly; but he may have another object. In any case, he wants to make
+money by this move."
+
+"Very audacious, then. He must know, if he is fit for his trade, how
+much risk there is in it; and his signing his name and address to his
+letter, and seeking an interview with a witness by seems to me utterly
+infatuated," said David Arden, with his eye upon Mr. Longcluse.
+
+"So it does, except upon one supposition; I mean that the man believes
+his story," said Mr. Longcluse, walking beside him, for they had resumed
+their march towards the gate.
+
+"Really! believes that you committed the murder?" said Uncle David,
+again coming to a halt and looking full at him.
+
+"I can't quite account for it otherwise," said Longcluse; "and I think
+the right course is for me to meet him. But I have no intimacies in
+London, and that is my difficulty."
+
+"How? Why don't you arrest him?" said David Arden.
+
+David Arden had seldom felt so oddly. A quarter-of-an-hour since, he
+expected to have been seated in his carriage with his ward and Vivian
+Darnley, driving into town in quiet humdrum fashion, by this time. How
+like a dream was the actual scene! Here he was, standing on the grass
+among the noble timber, under the moonlight, with the pale face beside
+him which had begun to haunt him so oddly. The strange smile of his
+mysterious companion, the cold tone that jarred sweetly, somehow, on his
+ear, lending a sinister eccentricity to the extraordinary confession he
+was making.
+
+In this situation, which had come about almost unaccountably, there was
+a strange feeling of unreality. Was this man, from whom he had felt an
+indescribable repulsion, now by his side, and drawing him, in this
+solitude, into a mysterious confidence? and had not this confidence an
+unaccountable though distant relation to the vague suspicions that had
+touched his mind? With a little effort he resumed,--
+
+"I beg pardon, but if the case were mine I should put the letters at
+once into the hands of the police and prosecute him."
+
+"Precisely my own first impulse. But the letters are more cautiously
+framed than you might at first sight suppose. I should be placed in an
+awkward position were my prosecution to fail. _I_ am obliged to think of
+this because, although I am nothing to the public, I am a good deal to
+myself. But I've resolved to take a course not less bold, though less
+public. I am determined to meet him face to face with an unexceptionable
+witness present, and to discover distinctly whether he acts from fraud
+or delusion, and then to proceed accordingly. I have communicated with
+him."
+
+"Oh, really!"
+
+"Yes, I was clear I ought to meet him, but I would consent to nothing
+with an air of concealment."
+
+"I think you were right, Sir."
+
+"He wanted our meeting by night on board a Thames boat; then in a
+dilapidated house in Southwark; then in a deserted house that is to be
+let in Thames Street; but I named my own house, in Bolton Street, at
+half-past twelve to-night."
+
+"Then you really wish to see him. I suppose you have thought it well
+over; but I am always for taking such miscreants promptly by the throat.
+However, as you say, cases differ, and I daresay you are well advised."
+
+"And now may I venture a request, which, were it not for two facts
+within my knowledge, I should not presume to make? But I venture it to
+you, who take so special an interest in this case, because you have
+already taken trouble and, like myself, contributed money to aid the
+chances of discovery; and because only this evening you said you would
+bestow more labour, more time, and more money with pleasure to procure
+the least chance of an additional light upon it: now it strikes me as
+just possible that the writer of those letters may be, to some extent,
+honest. Though utterly mistaken about me, still he may have evidence to
+give, be it worth much or little; and so, Mr. Arden, having the pleasure
+of being known to some members of your family, although till to-night by
+name only to you, I beg as a great kindness to a man in a difficulty,
+and possibly in the interests of the public, that you will be so good as
+to accompany me, and be present at the interview, that cannot be so well
+conducted before any other witness whom I can take with me."
+
+David Arden paused for a moment, but independently quite of his interest
+in this case: he felt a strange curiosity about this pale man, whose
+eyes from under their oblique brows gleamed back the cold moonlight;
+while a smile, the character of which a little puzzled him, curled his
+nostril and his thin lip, and showed the glittering edge of his teeth.
+Did it look like treachery? or was it defiance, or derision? It was a
+face, thus seen, so cadaverous and Mephistophelian, that an artist would
+have given something for a minute to fix a note of it in white and
+black.
+
+David Arden was not to be disturbed in a practical matter by a pictorial
+effect, however, and in another moment he said--
+
+"Yes, Mr. Longcluse, as you desire it I will accompany you, and see this
+fellow, and hear what he has to say. _Certainly._"
+
+"That's very kind--only what I should have expected, also, from your
+public spirit. I'm extremely obliged."
+
+They resumed their walk towards the gate.
+
+"I shall get into my brougham and call at home, to tell them not to
+expect me for an hour or so. And what is the number of your house?"
+
+He told him; and David Arden having offered to take him, in his
+carriage, to the place where his own awaited him, which however he
+declined, they parted for a little time, and Mr. Arden's brougham
+quickly disappeared under the shadow of the tall trees that lined the
+curving road.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXIII.
+
+THE MEETING.
+
+
+As David Arden drove towards town, his confusion rather increased. Why
+should Mr. Longcluse select him for this confidence? There were men in
+the City whom he must know, if not intimately, at least much better than
+he knew him. It was a very strange occurrence; and was not Mr.
+Longcluse's manner, also, strange? Was he not, somehow, very oddly cool
+under a charge of murder? There was something, it seemed, indefinably
+incongruous in the nature of his story, his request, and his manner.
+
+                   *       *       *       *       *
+
+It was five or ten minutes before the appointed time when David Arden
+and Longcluse met in the latter gentleman's "study" in Bolton Street.
+There was a slight, odd flutter at Longcluse's heart, although his pale
+face betrayed no sign of agitation, as the shuffling tread of a heavy
+foot was heard on the doorsteps, followed by a faint knock, like that of
+a tremulous postman. It was the preconcerted summons of Mr. Paul Davies.
+
+Longcluse smiled at David Arden and raised his finger, as he lightly
+drew near the room door, with an air of warning. He wished to remind his
+companion that he was to receive their visitor alone. Mr. Arden nodded,
+and Mr. Longcluse withdrew. In a minute more the servant opened the
+study-door, and said--"Mr. Davies, Sir."
+
+And the tall ex-detective entered, and looked with a silky simper
+stealthily to the right and to the left from the corners of his eyes,
+and glided in, shutting the door behind him.
+
+Uncle David received this man without even a nod. He eyed him sternly,
+from his chair at the end of the table.
+
+"Sit in that chair, please," said he, pointing to a seat at the other
+end.
+
+The ex-policeman made his best bow, and turning out his toes very much,
+he shuffled with his habitual sly smirk on, to the chair, in which he
+seated himself, and with his big red hands on the table began turning,
+and twisting, and twiddling a short pencil, which was a good deal bitten
+at the uncut end, between his fingers and thumbs.
+
+"You came here to see Mr. Longcluse?" asked David Arden.
+
+"A few words of business at his desire. Sir, I ask your parding, I came,
+Sir, by his wishes, not mine, which has brought me here at his request."
+
+"And who am I, do you suppose?"
+
+The man, still smiling, looked at him shrewdly. "Well, I don't know, I'm
+sure; I may 'a' seen you."
+
+"Did you ever see that gentleman?" said David Arden, as Mr. Longcluse
+entered the room.
+
+The ex-detective looked also shrewdly at Longcluse, but without any
+light of recognition. "I may have seen him, Sir. Yes, I saw him in Saint
+George's, Hanover Square, the day Lord Charles Dillingsworth married
+Miss Wygram, the _hairess_. I saw him at Sydenham the second week in
+February last when the Freemasons' dinner was there; and I saw him on
+the night of the match between Hood and Markham, at the Saloon Tavern."
+
+"Do you know my name?" said David Arden.
+
+"Well, no, I don't at present remember."
+
+"Do you know that gentleman's name?"
+
+"His name?"
+
+"Ay, his name."
+
+"Well, no; I may have heard it, and I may bring it to mind, by-and-by."
+
+Longcluse smiled and shrugged, looking at Mr. Arden, and he said to the
+man--
+
+"So you don't know _that_ gentleman's name, nor mine?"
+
+The man looked at each, hard and a little anxiously, like a person who
+feels that he may be making a very serious mistake; but after a pause he
+said decisively--"No, I don't at present. I say I don't know your names,
+either of you gentlemen, and I _don't_."
+
+The two gentlemen exchanged glances.
+
+"Is either of us as tall as Mr. Longcluse?" asked David Arden, standing
+up.
+
+The man stood up also, to make his inspection.
+
+"You're both," he said, after a pause, "much about his height."
+
+"Is either of us like him?"
+
+"No," answered Davies, after a pause.
+
+"Did you write these letters?" asked Mr. Longcluse laughing.
+
+"Well, I did, or I didn't, and what's that to you?"
+
+"Something, as you shall know presently."
+
+"I think you're trying it on. I reckon this is a bit of a plant. I don't
+care a scratch o' that pencil if it be. I wrote them letters, and I said
+nothin' but what's true, and I'll go with you now to the station if you
+like, and tell all I knows."
+
+The fellow seemed nettled, and laughed viciously a little, and swaggered
+at the close of his speech. The faintest flush imaginable tinged
+Longcluse's forehead, as he shot a searching glance at him.
+
+"No, we don't want that," said he; "but you may be of more use in
+another way, although just now you are in the wrong box, and have
+mistaken your man, for _I_ am Mr. Longcluse. You have been misinformed,
+you see, as to the identity of the person you suspect; but some person
+you have, no doubt, in your mind, and possibly a case worth sifting,
+although you have been deceived as to his name. Describe the appearance
+of the man you supposed to be Mr. Longcluse. You may be frank with me; I
+mean you no harm."
+
+"I defy any man to harm me, Sir, if you please, so long as I do my
+dooty," said Paul Davies. "Mr. Longcluse, if that be his name, the man I
+mean, he's about your height, with round shoulders and red hair, and
+talks with a north-country twang on his tongue; he's a bit rougher, and
+a swaggerin' cove, and a yard o' red beard over his waistcoat, and
+bigger hands a deal than you, and broader feet."
+
+"And have you a case against him?"
+
+"Partly, but it ain't, Sir, if you please, by no means so complete as
+would answer as yet. If I was sure you were really Mr. Longcluse, I
+could say more, for I partly guess who this other gent is--a most
+respectable party. I think I do know you, Sir, by appearance; if you had
+your 'at on, Sir, I could say to a certainty. But I think, Sir, if you
+please, I'm not very far wrong when I say that I would identify you for
+Mr. David Arden."
+
+"So I am; that is quite true."
+
+"Thank you, Sir, I am obleeged; that's very quietin' to my mind, Sir,
+having full confidence in your character; and if you, Sir, please to
+tell me _that_ gentleman is undoubtingly Mr. Longcluse, the propperieter
+of this house, I must 'a' been let into a mistake; I don't think they
+was agreenin' of me, but it was a mistake, if you please, Sir, if you
+say so."
+
+"This is Mr. Longcluse--I know of no other--and he resides in this
+house," said David Arden. "But if you have information to give
+respecting that red-bearded fellow, there is no reason why you should
+not give it forthwith to the police."
+
+"Parding me, Sir, if you please, Mr. Arden. There is, I would say,
+strong reasons for a poor man in rayther anxious circumstances, like
+myself, Sir, 'aving an affectionate mother to, in a measure, support,
+and been himself unfortunately rayther hard up, he can't answer it nohow
+to his conscience if he lets a hoppertunity like the present pass him
+and his aged mother by unimproved. There been a reward offered, Sir, I
+naturally wish, Sir, if you please, to earn it myself by valuable
+evidence leading to the conviction of the guilty cove; and if I was to
+tell all I knows and 'av' made out by my own hindustry to the force,
+Sir, other persons would, don't you conceive, Sir, draw the reward, and
+me and my mother should go without. If I could get a hinterview with the
+man I 'av' bin a-gettin' things together for, I'd lead him, I 'av' no
+doubt, to make such hadmissions as would clench the prosecution, and
+vendicate justice."
+
+"I see what you mean," said David Arden.
+
+"And fair enough, I think," added Longcluse.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXIV.
+
+MR. LONGCLUSE FOLLOWS A SHADOW.
+
+
+The ex-detective cleared his voice, shook his head, and smirked.
+
+"A hinterview, gentlemen," said he, "is worth much in the hands of a
+persuasive party. I have hanged several obnoxious characters, and let
+others in for penal for life, by means of a hinterview. You remember
+Spikes, gentlemen, as got into difficulties for breaking Mr.
+Winterbotham's desk? Spikes would have frusterated justice, if it wasn't
+for me. It was done in one hinterview. Says I, 'Mr. Spikes, you have a
+wife and five children.'"
+
+The recollection of Mr. Paul Davies' diplomacy was so gratifying to that
+smiling gentleman, that he could not forbear winking at his auditors as
+he proceeded.
+
+"'And my belief is, Mr. Spikes, Sir,'" he continued, "'that it was all
+the hinfluence of Tom Sprowles. It was Sprowles persuaded yer--it was
+him as got the whole thing up. That's my belief; and you did not want to
+do it, no-wise, and only consented to force the henges in the belief
+that Sprowles wanted to read the papers, and no more. I have a bad
+opinion of Sprowles,' says I, 'for deceiving you, I may say innocently;'
+and talking this way, you conceive, I got it all out of him, and he's
+under penal for life. Whenever you want to get round a man, and to turn
+him inside out, your way is to sympath_ise_ with him. If I had but an
+hinterview with that man, I know enough to draw it out of him, every
+bit. It's all done by sympath_ising_."
+
+"But do you think you can discover the man?" asked Mr. Arden.
+
+"I'm sure to make him out, if you please, Sir; I'll find out all about
+him. I'd a found out the facks long ago, but for the mistake, which it
+occurred most unlucky. I saw him twice sence, and I know well where to
+look for him; and I'll have it all right before long, I'm thinkin'."
+
+"That will do, then, for the present," said Mr. Longcluse. "You have
+said all you have to say, and you see into what a serious mistake you
+have blundered; but I sha'n't give you any trouble about it--it is too
+ridiculous. Good-night, Mr. Davies."
+
+"No mistake of mine, Sir, please. Misinformed, Sir, you will kindly
+remark--misinformed, if you please--misinformed, as may occur to the
+sharpest party going. Good-night, gentlemen; I takes my leave without no
+unpleasant feelin', and good wishes for your 'ealth and 'appiness, both,
+gentlemen." And blandly, and with a sly sleepy smile, this insinuating
+person withdrew.
+
+"It is the reward he is thinking of," said Longcluse.
+
+"Yes, he won't spare himself; you mentioned that your own suspicions
+respecting him were but vague," said David Arden.
+
+"I merely stated what I saw to the coroner, and it was answered that he
+was watching the Frenchman Lebas, because the detective police, before
+Paul Davies' dismissal, had received orders to keep an eye on all
+foreigners; and he hoped to conciliate the authorities, and get a
+pension, by collecting and furnishing information. The police did not
+seem to think his dogging and watching the unfortunate little fellow
+really meant more than this."
+
+"Very likely. It is a very odd affair. I wonder who that fellow is whom
+he described. He did not give a hint as to the circumstances which
+excited his suspicions."
+
+"It _is_ strange. But that man, Paul Davies, kept his eye upon Lebas
+from the motive I mentioned, and this circumstance may have led to his
+seeing more of the matter than, with the reward in his mind, he cares to
+make known at present. I think I did right in meeting him face to face."
+
+"Quite right, Sir."
+
+"It has been always a rule with me to go straight at everything. I think
+the best diplomacy is directness, and that the truest caution lies in
+courage."
+
+"Precisely my opinion, Mr. Longcluse," said Uncle David, looking on him
+with eyes of approbation. He was near adding something hearty in the
+spirit of our ancestors' saying, "I hope you and I, Sir, may be better
+acquainted;" but something in the look and peculiar face of this unknown
+Mr. Longcluse chilled him, and he only said--
+
+"As you say, Mr. Longcluse, courage is safety, and honesty the best
+policy. Good-night, Sir."
+
+"A thousand thanks, Mr. Arden. Might I ask one more favour, that you
+will endorse on each of these threatening letters a memorandum of the
+facts of this strange interview?--I mean a sentence or two, which may at
+any time confound this fellow, should he turn out to be a villain."
+
+"Certainly," said Mr. Arden thoughtfully, and he sat down again, and
+wrote a few lines on the back of each, which, having signed, he handed
+them to Mr. Longcluse, with the question, "Will that answer?"
+
+"Perfectly, thank you very much; it is indeed impossible for me to thank
+you as I ought and wish to," said Mr. Longcluse with effusion, extending
+his hand at the same time; but Mr. Arden took it without much warmth,
+and said, in comparison a little drily--
+
+"No need to thank me, Mr. Longcluse; as you said at first, there are
+motives quite sufficient, of a kind for which you can owe me,
+personally, no thanks whatever, to induce the very slight trouble of
+coming here."
+
+"Well, Mr. Arden, I _am_ very _much_ obliged to you, notwithstanding;"
+and so he gratefully saw him to the door, and smiled and bowed him off,
+and stood for a moment as his carriage whirled down the short street.
+
+"He does not like me--nor I, perhaps, him. Ha! ha! ha!" he laughed, very
+softly and reservedly, looking down on the flags. "What an odd thing it
+is! Those instincts and antipathies, they are very odd." All this,
+except the faint laughter, was in thought.
+
+Mr. Longcluse stepped back. He was negatively happy--he was rid of an
+anxiety. He was positively happy--he had been better received by Miss
+Arden, this evening, than he had ever been before. So he went to his bed
+with a light heart, and a head full of dreams.
+
+All the next day, one beautiful image haunted Longcluse's imagination.
+He was delayed in town; he had to consult about operations in foreign
+stocks; he had many words to say, directions to modify, and calls to
+make on this man and that. He had hoped to be at Mortlake Hall at three
+o'clock. But it was past six before he could disentangle himself from
+the tenacious meshes of his business. Never had he thought it so
+irksome. Was he not rich enough--too rich? Why should he longer submit
+to a servitude so wearisome? It was high time he should begin to enjoy
+his days in the sunshine of his gold and the companionship of his
+beautiful idol. But "man proposes," says the ancient saw, "and God
+disposes."
+
+It was just seven o'clock when Mr. Longcluse descended at the steps of
+old Mortlake Hall.
+
+Sir Reginald, who is writhing under a letter from the attorney of the
+millionaire mortgagee of his Yorkshire estate, making an alternative
+offer, either to call in the principal sum or to allow it to stand out
+on larger interest, had begged of Mr. Longcluse, last night, to give him
+a few words of counsel some day. He had, in a quiet talk the evening
+before, taken the man of huge investments rather into his confidence.
+
+"I don't know, Mr.--a--Mr. Longcluse, whether you are aware how cruelly
+my property is tied up," he said, as he talked in a low tone with him,
+in a corner of the drawing-room. "A life estate, and my son, who
+declines bearing any part of the burden of his own extravagance, will do
+nothing to facilitate my efforts to pay his debts for him; and I declare
+solemnly, if they raise the interest on this very oppressive mortgage, I
+don't know how on earth I can pay my insurances. I don't see how I am to
+do it. I should be so extremely obliged to you, Mr. Longcluse, if you
+would, with your vast experience and knowledge in all--all financial
+matters, give me any advice that strikes you--if you could, with perfect
+convenience, afford so much time. I don't really know what rate of
+interest is usual. I only know this, that interest, as a rule, has been
+steadily declining ever since I can remember--perpetually declining; I
+mean, of course, upon perfect security like this; and now this
+confounded harpy wants, after ten years, to _raise_ it! I believe they
+want to drive me out of the world, among them! and they well know the
+cruelty of it, for I have never been able to pay them a single half-year
+punctually. Will you take some tea?"
+
+So Longcluse had promised his advice very gladly next day; and now he
+asked for Sir Reginald. Sir Reginald was very particularly engaged at
+this moment on business; Mr. Arden was with him at present; but if Mr.
+Longcluse would wait for a few minutes, Sir Reginald would be most happy
+to see him. So there was to be a little wait. How could he better pass
+the interval than in Miss Arden's company?
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXV.
+
+A TETE-A-TETE.
+
+
+Up to the drawing-room went Mr. Longcluse, and there he found Miss Arden
+finishing a drawing. He fancied a very slight flush on her cheek as he
+entered. Was there really a heightening of that beautiful tint as she
+smiled? How lovely her long lashes, and her even little teeth, and the
+lustrous darkness of her eyes, in that subdued light!
+
+"I so wanted advice, Mr. Longcluse, and you have come in so fortunately!
+I am not satisfied with my sky and mountains, and the foreground where
+the light touches that withered branch is a horrible failure. In nature,
+it looked quite beautiful. I remember it so well. It looked on fire,
+almost. This is Saxteen Castle, near Golden Friars, and that is a bit of
+the lake and those are the fells. I sketched it in pencil, and trusted
+to memory for colouring. It was just at the most picturesque moment,
+when the sun was going down between the two mountains that overhang the
+little town on the west."
+
+"Sunset is very well expressed. You indicated all those long shadows,
+Miss Arden, in pencil, and I envy your perspective, and I think your
+colouring so extremely good! The distances are admirably marked. Try a
+little cadmium, burnt sienna, and lake for the intense touches of light
+in the foreground, on that barkless branch. Your own eye will best
+regulate the proportions. I am one of those vandals who prefer colour a
+little too bold and overdone to any timidity in that respect. Exuberance
+in a beginner is always, in my mind, an augury of excellence. It is so
+easy to moderate afterwards."
+
+"Yes, I daresay; I'm very glad you advise that, because I always thought
+so myself; but I was half afraid to act on it. I think that is about the
+tint--a little more yellow, perhaps. Yes; how does it look now?--what do
+you think?"
+
+"Now judge yourself, Miss Arden. Do not those three sharp little touches
+of reflected fire light up the whole drawing? I say it is admirable. It
+is really quite a beautiful little drawing."
+
+"I'm growing so vain! you will quite spoil me, Mr. Longcluse."
+
+"Truth will never spoil any one. Praise is very delightful. I have not
+had much of it in my day, but I think it makes one better as well as
+happier; and to speak simple truth of you, Miss Arden, is inevitably to
+praise you."
+
+"Those are compliments, Mr. Longcluse, and they bewilder me--anything
+one does not know how to answer; so I would rather you pointed me out
+four or five faults in my drawing, and I should be very well content if
+you said no more. I believe you know the scenery of Golden Friars."
+
+"I do. Beautiful, and so romantic, and full of legends! the whole place
+with its belongings is a poem."
+
+"So I think. And the hotel--the inn I prefer calling it--the 'George and
+Dragon,' is so picturesque and delightfully old, and so comfortable! Our
+head-quarters were there for two or three weeks. And did you see Childe
+Waylin's Leap?"
+
+"Yes, an awful scene; what a terrible precipice! I saw it to great
+advantage from a boat, while a thunderstorm was glaring and pealing over
+its summit. You know the legend, of course?"
+
+"No, I did not hear it."
+
+"Oh, it is a very striking one, and won't take many words to tell. Shall
+I tell it?"
+
+"Pray do," said Alice, with her bright look of expectation.
+
+He smiled sadly. Perhaps the story returned with an allegoric melancholy
+to his mind. With a sigh and a smile he continued--
+
+"Childe Waylin fell in love with a phantom lady, and walked day and
+night along the fells--people thought in solitude, really lured on by
+the beautiful apparition, which, as his love increased, grew less
+frequent, more distant and fainter, until at last, in the despair of his
+wild pursuit, he threw himself over that terrible precipice, and so
+perished. I have faith in instinct--faith in passion, which is but a
+form of instinct. I am sure he did wisely."
+
+"I sha'n't dispute it; it is not a case likely to happen often. These
+phantom ladies seem to have given up practice of late years, or else
+people have become proof against their wiles, and neither follow, nor
+adore, nor lament them."
+
+"I don't think these phantom ladies are at all out of date," said Mr.
+Longcluse.
+
+"Well, men have grown wiser, at all events."
+
+"No wiser, no happier; in such a case there is no room for what the
+world calls wisdom. Passion is absolute, and as for happiness, that or
+despair hangs on the turn of a die."
+
+"I have made that shadow a little more purple--do you think it an
+improvement?"
+
+"Yes, certainly. How well it throws out that bit of the ruin that
+catches the sunlight! You have made a very poetical sketch; you have
+given not merely the outlines, but the character of that singular
+place--the _genus loci_ is there."
+
+Just as Mr. Longcluse had finished this complimentary criticism, the
+door opened, and rather unexpectedly Richard Arden entered the room.
+Very decidedly _de trop_ at that moment, his friend thought Mr. Arden.
+Longcluse meant again to have turned the current of their talk into the
+channel he liked best, and here was interruption. But was not Richard
+Arden his sworn brother, and was he not sure to make an excuse of some
+sort, and take his leave, and thus restore him to his _tête-à-tête_.
+
+But was there--or was it fancy--a change scarcely perceptible, but
+unpleasant, in the manner of this sworn brother? Was it not very
+provoking, and a little odd, that he did not go away, but stayed on and
+on, till at length a servant came in with a message from Sir Reginald to
+Mr. Longcluse, to say that he would be very happy to see him whenever he
+chose to come to his room? Mr. Longcluse was profoundly vexed. Richard
+Arden, however, had resumed his old manner pretty nearly. Was the
+interruption he had persisted in designed, or only accidental? Could he
+suppose Richard Arden so stupid? He took his leave smiling, but with an
+uncomfortable misgiving at his heart.
+
+Richard Arden now proceeded in his own way, with some colouring and
+enormous suppression at discretion, to give his sister such an account
+as he thought would best answer of the interview he had just had with
+his father. Honestly related, what occurred between them was as
+follows:--
+
+Richard Arden had come on summons from his father. Without a special
+call, he never appeared at Mortlake while his father was there, and
+never in his absence but with an understanding that Sir Reginald was to
+hear nothing of it. He sat for a considerable time in the apartment that
+opened from his father's dressing-room. He heard the baronet's peevish
+voice ordering Crozier about. Something was dropped and broken, and the
+same voice was heard in angrier alto. Richard Arden looked out of the
+window and waited uncomfortably. He hated his father's pleadings with
+him, and he did not know for what purpose he had appointed this
+interview.
+
+The door opened, and Sir Reginald entered, limping a little, for his
+gout had returned slightly. He was leaning on a stick. His thin, dark
+face and prominent eyes looked angry, and he turned about and poked his
+dressing-room door shut with the point of his stick, before taking any
+notice of his son.
+
+"Sit down, if you please, in that chair," he said, pointing to the
+particular seat he meant him to occupy with two vicious little pokes, as
+if he were running a small-sword through it. "I wrote to ask you to
+come, Sir, merely to say a word respecting your sister, for whom, if not
+for other members of your family, you still retain, I suppose, some
+consideration and natural affection."
+
+Here was a pause which Richard Arden did not very well know what to do
+with. However, as his father's fierce eyes were interrogating him, he
+murmured--
+
+"Certainly, Sir."
+
+"Yes, and under that impression I showed you Lord Wynderbroke's letter.
+He is to dine here to-morrow at a quarter to eight--please to
+recollect--precisely. Do you hear?"
+
+"I do, Sir, everything."
+
+"You must meet him. Let us not appear more divided than we are. You know
+Wynderbroke--he's peculiar. Why the devil shouldn't we appear united? I
+don't say _be_ united, for you won't. But there is something owed to
+decency. I suppose you admit that? And before people, confound you, Sir,
+can't we appear affectionate? He's a quiet man, Wynderbroke, and makes a
+great deal of these domestic sentiments. So you'll please to show some
+respect and affection while he's present, and I mean to show some
+affection for you; and after that, Sir, you may go to the devil for me!
+I hope you understand?"
+
+"Perfectly, Sir."
+
+"As to Wynderbroke, the thing is settled--it is _there_." He pointed to
+his desk. "What I told you before, I tell you now--you must see that
+your sister doesn't make a fool of herself. I have nothing more to say
+to you at present--unless you have something to say to me?"
+
+This latter part of the sentence had something sharp and interrogative
+in it. There was just a chance, it seemed to imply, that his son might
+have something to say upon the one point that lay near the old man's
+heart.
+
+"Nothing, Sir," said Richard, rising.
+
+"No, no; so I supposed. You may go, Sir--nothing."
+
+Of this interview, one word of the real purport of which he could not
+tell to his sister, he gave her an account very slight indeed, but
+rather pleasant.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXVI.
+
+THE GARDEN AT MORTLAKE.
+
+
+Alice leaned back in her chair, smiling, and very much pleased.
+
+"So my father seems disposed to relent ever so little--and ever so
+little, you know, is better than nothing," said Richard Arden.
+
+"I'm so glad, Dick, that he wishes you to take your dinner with us
+to-morrow; it is a very good sign. It would be so delightful if you
+could be at home with us, as you used to be."
+
+"You are a good little soul, Alice--a dear little thing! This is very
+pretty," he said, looking at her drawing. "What is it?"
+
+"The ruined castle near the northern end of the lake at Golden Friars.
+Mr. Longcluse says it is pretty good. Is he to dine here, do you know?"
+
+"No--I don't know--I hope not," said Richard shortly.
+
+"Hope not! why?" said she. "I thought you liked him extremely."
+
+"I thought he was very well for a sort of outdoor acquaintance for
+_men_; but I don't even know _that_, now. There's no use in speaking to
+Lady May, but I warn you--you had better drop him. There is very little
+known about him, but there is a great deal that is not pleasant _said_."
+
+"Really?"
+
+"Yes, really."
+
+"But you used to speak so highly of him. I'm so surprised!"
+
+"I did not know half what people said of him. I've heard a great deal
+since."
+
+"But is it true?" asked Alice.
+
+"It is nothing to me whether it is true or not. It is enough if a man is
+talked about uncomfortably, to make it unpleasant to know him. We owe
+nothing to Mr. Longcluse; there is no reason why you should have an
+acquaintance that is not desirable. _I_ mean to drop him quietly, and
+you _can't_ know him, really you _mustn't_, Alice."
+
+"I don't know. It seems to me very hard," said Miss Alice spiritedly.
+"It is not many days since you spoke of him so highly; and I was quite
+pained when you came in just now. I don't know whether he perceived it,
+but I think he must. I only know that I thought you were so cold and
+strange to him, your manner so unlike what it always was before. I
+thought you had been quarrelling. I fancied he was vexed, and I felt
+quite sorry; and I don't think what you say, Richard, is manly, or like
+yourself. You used to praise him so, and fight his battles; and he is,
+though very distinguished in some ways, rather a stranger in London; and
+people, you told me, envy him, and try in a cowardly way to injure him;
+and what more easy than to hint discreditable things of people? and you
+did not believe a word of those reports when last you spoke of him; and
+considering that he had no people to stand by him in London, or to take
+his part, and that he may never even hear the things that are said by
+low people about him, don't you think it would be cowardly of us, and
+positively base to treat him so?"
+
+"Upon my word, Miss Alice, that is very good oratory indeed! I don't
+think I ever heard you so eloquent before, at least upon the wrongs of
+one of my sex."
+
+"Now, Dick, that sneer won't do. There may possibly be reasons why it
+would have been wiser never to have made Mr. Longcluse's acquaintance; I
+can't say. Those reasons, however, you treated very lightly indeed a
+little time ago--you know you did--and now, upon no better, you say you
+are going to cut him. _I_ can't bring myself to do any such thing. He is
+always looking in at Lady May's, and I can't help meeting him unless I
+am to cut her also. Now don't you see how odious I should appear, and
+how impossible it is?"
+
+"I won't argue it now, dear Alice; there is quite time enough. I shall
+come an hour before dinner, to-morrow, and we can have a quiet talk; and
+I am quite sure I shall convince you. Mind, I don't say we should insult
+him," he laughed. "I only say this, and I'll maintain it--and I'll show
+you why--that he is not a desirable acquaintance. We have taken him up
+very foolishly, and we _must_ drop him. And now, darling, good-bye."
+
+He kissed her--she kissed him. She looked grave for a moment after,
+after he had run down the stairs. He has quarrelled with Mr. Longcluse
+about something, she thought, as she stood at the window with the tip of
+her finger to her lip, looking at her brother as he mounted the showy
+horse which had cantered with him up and down Rotten Row for two hours
+or more, before he had ridden out to Mortlake. She saw him now ride
+away.
+
+It was near eight o'clock, and all this time Mr. Longcluse had been in
+confidence with Sir Reginald about his miserable mortgage. Mr. Longcluse
+was cautious; but there floated in his mind certain possible
+contingencies, under which he might perhaps make the financial
+adjustment, which Sir Reginald desired, very easy indeed to the worthy
+baronet.
+
+It was the tempting hour of evening when the birds begin to sing, and
+the level beams from the west glorify all objects. Alice put on her hat
+and ran out to the old gardens of Mortlake. They are enclosed in a grey
+wall, and lie one above the other in three terraces, with tall standard
+fruit trees, so old that their fruit was now dwarfed in size to half its
+earlier bearings, standing high with a dark and sylvan luxuriance, and
+at this moment, sheltering among their sunlit leaves, nestle and flutter
+the small birds whose whistlings cheer and sadden the evening air. Every
+tree and bush that bore fruit, in this old garden, had grown quite
+beyond the common stature of its kind, and a good gardener would have
+cut them all down fifty years ago. But there was a kind of sylvan and
+stately beauty in those wonderful lofty pear-trees, with their dense
+dark foliage, and in the standard cherries so tall and prim, and
+something homely and comfortable in the great straggling apples and
+plums, dappled with grey lichens and tufted with moss. There were
+flowers as well as fruits, of all sorts, in this garden. All its
+arrangements were out of date. There was an air, not actually of
+neglect--for it was weeded, and the walks were trim and gravelled--but
+of carelessness and rusticity, not unpleasant, in the place. Trees were
+allowed to straggle and spread, and rise aloft in the air, just as they
+pleased. Tall roses climbed the walls about the door, and clustered in
+nodding masses overhead; and no end of pretty annuals and other flowers,
+quite out of fashion, crowded the dishevelled currant bushes, and the
+forest of raspberries. Here and there were very tall myrtles, and the
+quince, and obsolete medlars, were discoverable among the other
+fruit-trees. The summits of the walls were in some places crowned, to
+the scandal of all decent gardening, with ivy, and a carved shaft in the
+centre of each garden supported a sun-dial as old as the Hall itself.
+
+There are fancies, as well as likings and lovings. Where there is a real
+worship, however cautiously masked--and Mr. Longcluse was by no means
+so--it is never a mystery to a clever girl. And such adoration, although
+it be not at all reciprocated, is sometimes hard to part with. There is
+something of the nature of compassion, with a little gratitude, perhaps,
+mingling in the pang which a gentle lady feels at having to discharge
+for ever an honest love and a true servant, and send him away to
+solitary suffering for her sake. Some little pang of reproach of this
+sensitive kind had, perhaps, armed her against her brother's sudden
+sentence of exclusion pronounced against Mr. Longcluse.
+
+The evening sunlight travelled over the ivy on the discoloured wall, and
+glittered on the leaves of the tall fruit-trees, in whose thick foliage
+the birds were still singing their vespers. Walking down the broad walk
+towards the garden-door, she felt the saddening influence of the hour
+returning; and as she reached the door, overclustered with roses, it
+opened, and Mr. Longcluse stood in the shadow before her.
+
+Miss Arden, thus surprised in the midst of thoughts which at that moment
+happened to be employed about him, showed for a second, as she suddenly
+stopped, something in her beautiful face almost amounting to
+embarrassment.
+
+"I was called away so suddenly to see Sir Reginald, that I went without
+saying good-bye; so I ran up to the drawing-room, and the servant told
+me I should probably find you here; and, really without reflecting--I
+act, I'm afraid, so much from impulse that I might appear very
+impertinent--I ventured to follow. What a beautiful evening! How
+charming the light! You, who are such an artist, and understand the
+poetry of colour so, must admire this cloister-like garden, so
+beautifully illuminated."
+
+Was Mr. Longcluse also a very little embarrassed as he descanted thus on
+light and colour?
+
+"It is a very old garden and does very little credit, I'm afraid, to our
+care; but I greatly prefer it to our formal gardens and all their
+finery, in Yorkshire."
+
+She moved her hand as if she expected Mr. Longcluse to take it and his
+leave, for it was high time her visitor should "order his wings and be
+off the west," in which quarter, as we know, lay Mr. Longcluse's
+habitation. He had stepped in, however, and the door closed softly
+before the light evening breeze that swung it gently. She was standing
+under the wild canopy of roses, and he under the sterner arch of grooved
+and fluted stone that overhung the doorway.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXVII.
+
+WINGED WORDS.
+
+
+"I was afraid I had vexed your brother somehow," said Mr. Longcluse--"I
+thought he seemed to meet me a little formally. I should be so sorry if
+I had annoyed him by any accident!"
+
+He paused, and Miss Arden said, half laughing--"Oh, don't you know, Mr.
+Longcluse, that people are out of spirits sometimes, and now and then a
+little offended with all the world? It is nothing, of course."
+
+"What a fib!" whispered conscience in the young lady's pretty ear, while
+she smiled and blushed.
+
+Again she raised her hand a little, expecting Mr. Longcluse's farewell.
+But she looked a great deal too beautiful for a farewell. Mr. Longcluse
+could not deny himself a minute more, and he said, "It is a year, Miss
+Arden, since I first saw you."
+
+"Is it really? I daresay."
+
+"Yes, at Lady May Penrose's. Yes, I remember it distinctly--so
+distinctly that I shall never forget any circumstance connected with it.
+It is exactly a year and four days. You smile, Miss Arden, because for
+you the event can have had no interest; for me it is different--how
+different I will not say."
+
+Miss Arden coloured and then grew pale. She was very much embarrassed.
+She was about to say a word to end the interview, and go. Perhaps Mr.
+Longcluse was, as he said, impulsive--too precipitate and impetuous. He
+raised his hand entreatingly,--
+
+"Oh, Miss Arden, pray, only a word!--I must speak it. Ever since
+then--ever since that hour--I have been the slave of a single thought; I
+have worshipped before one beautiful image, with an impious adoration,
+for there is nothing--no sacrifice, no crime--I would shrink from for
+your sake. You can make of me what you will; all I possess, all my
+future, every thought and feeling and dream--all are yours. No, no;
+don't interrupt the few half desperate words I have to speak, they may
+move you to pity. Never before, in a life of terrible vicissitude, of
+much suffering, of many dangers, have I seen the human being who could
+move me as you have done. I did not believe my seared heart capable of
+passion. And I stand now aghast at what I have spoken. I stand at the
+brink of a worse death, by the word that trembles on your lips, than the
+cannon's mouth could give me. I see I have spoken rashly--I see it in
+your face--oh, Heaven! I see what you would say."
+
+His hands were clasped in desperate supplication, as he continued; and
+the fitful breeze shook the roses above them, and the fading leaves fell
+softly in a shower about his feet.
+
+"No, don't speak--your silence is sacred. I sha'n't misinterpret--I
+conjure you, don't answer! Forget that I have spoken. Oh! let it, in
+mercy, be all forgotten, and let us meet again as if there never had
+been this moment of madness, and in pity--as you look for mercy--forget
+it and forgive it!"
+
+He waited for no answer: he was gone: the door closed as it was before.
+Another breath of wind ruffled the roses, and a few more sere leaves
+fell where he had just been standing. She drew a long breath, like one
+awaking from a vision. She was trembling slightly. Never before had she
+seen such agony in a human face! All had happened so suddenly. It was an
+effort to believe it real. It seemed as if she could see nothing while
+he spoke, but that intense, pale face. She heard nothing but his deep
+and thrilling words. Now it seemed as if flowers, and trees, and wall,
+and roses, all emerged suddenly again from mist, and as if all the birds
+had resumed their singing after a silence.
+
+"Forget it--forgive it! Let it, as you look for mercy, be all forgotten.
+Let us meet again as if it never was." This strange petition still rang
+in the ears of the astonished girl.
+
+She was still too much flurried by the shock of this wild and sudden
+outbreak of passion, and appeal to mercy, quite to see her true course
+in the odd combination that had arisen. She was a little angry, and a
+little flattered. There was a confusion of resentment and compassion.
+What business had this Mr. Longcluse to treat her to those heroics! What
+right had he to presume that he would be listened to? How dared he ask
+her to treat all that had happened as if it had never been? How dared he
+seek to found on this unwarrantable liberty relations of mystery between
+them? How dared he fancy that she would consent to play at this game of
+deception with him?
+
+Mingled with these angry thoughts, however, were the recollections of
+his homage, his tone of melancholy deference ever since she had known
+him, and his admiration.
+
+Underlying all his trifling talk, there had always been toward her a
+respect which flattered her, which could not have been exceeded had she
+been an empress in her own right. No, if he had said more than he had
+any right to suppose would be listened to, the extravagance was due to
+no want of respect for her, but to the vehemence of passion.
+
+He was driving now into town, at a great pace. His cogitations were
+still more perturbed. Had he, by one frantic precipitation, murdered his
+best hopes?
+
+One consolation at least he had. Being a man, not without reason, prone
+to suspicion, he had a deep conviction that, for some reason, Richard
+Arden was opposed to his suit, and had already begun to work upon Miss
+Arden's mind to his prejudice. His best chance, then, he still thought,
+was to anticipate that danger by a declaration. If that declaration
+could only be forgiven, and the little scene at old Mortlake garden door
+sponged out, might not his chances stand better far than before? Would
+not the past, though never spoken of, give meaning, fire, and melancholy
+to things else insignificant, and keep him always before her, and her
+alone, be his demeanour and language ever so reserved and cold, as an
+impassioned lover? Did not his knowledge of human nature assure him that
+these relations of mystery would, more than any other, favour his
+fortunes?
+
+"That she should consign what has passed, in a few impetuous moments, to
+oblivion and silence, is no unreasonable prayer, and one as easy to
+grant as to will it. She will think it over, and, for my part, I will
+meet her as if nothing had ever happened to change our trifling but
+friendly relations. I wish I knew what Richard Arden was about. I soon
+shall. Yes, I shall--I soon shall."
+
+An opportunity seemed to offer sooner even than he had hoped; for as he
+drove towards St. James's Street, passing one of Richard Arden's clubs,
+he saw that young gentleman ascending the steps with Lord Wynderbroke.
+
+Longcluse stopped his brougham, jumped out, and overtook Richard Arden
+in the hall, where he stood, taking his letters from the hall-porter.
+
+"How d'ye do, again? I sha'n't detain you a minute. I have had a long
+talk with your father about business," said Longcluse, seizing the topic
+most likely to secure a few minutes, and speaking very low. "You can
+bring me into a room here, and I'll tell you all that is necessary in
+two minutes."
+
+"Certainly," said Richard, yielding to his curiosity. "I have only two
+or three minutes. I dine here with a friend, who is at this moment
+ordering dinner; so, you see, I am rather hurried."
+
+He opened a door, and looking in said--
+
+"Yes, we shall be quite to ourselves here."
+
+Longcluse shut the door. There was no one to overhear them.
+
+Richard Arden sat down on a sofa, and Mr. Longcluse threw himself into a
+chair.
+
+"And what did he say?" asked Richard.
+
+"They want to raise his interest on the Yorkshire estate; and he says
+you won't help him; but that of course is your affair, and I declined,
+point-blank, to intervene in it. And before I go further, it strikes me,
+as it did to-day at Mortlake, that your manner to me has undergone a
+slight change."
+
+"Has it? I did not mean it, I assure you," said Richard Arden, with a
+little laugh.
+
+"Oh! yes, Arden, it _has_, and you must know it, and--pardon me--you
+must _intend_ it also; and now I want to know what I have done, or how I
+have hurt you, or who has been telling lies of me?"
+
+"Nothing of all these, that I know of," said Richard, with a cold little
+laugh.
+
+"Well, of course, if you prefer it, you may decline an explanation. I
+must however, remind you, because it concerns my happiness, and possibly
+other interests dearer to me than my life, too nearly to be trifled
+with, that you heard all I said respecting your sister with the
+friendliest approbation and encouragement. You knew as much and as
+little about me then as you do now. I am not conscious of having said or
+done anything to warrant the slightest change in your feelings or
+opinion; and in your manner there _is_ a change, and a very decided
+change, and I tell you frankly I can't understand it."
+
+Thus directly challenged, Richard Arden looked at him hard for a moment.
+He was balancing in his mind whether he should evade or accept the
+crisis. He preferred the latter.
+
+"Well, I can only say I did not intend to convey anything by my manner;
+but, as you know, when there is anything in one's mind it is not always
+easy to prevent its affecting, as you say, one's manner. I am not sorry
+you have asked me, because I spoke without reflection the other day. No
+one should answer, I really think, for any one else, in ever so small a
+matter, in this world."
+
+"But you didn't--you spoke only for yourself. You simply promised me
+your friendship, your kind offices--you said, in fact, all I could have
+hoped for."
+
+"Yes, perhaps--yes, I may, I suppose I did. But don't you see, dear
+Longcluse, things may come to mind, on thinking over."
+
+"_What_ things?" demanded Longcluse quickly, with a sudden energy that
+called a flush to his temples; and fire gleamed for a moment from his
+deep-set, gloomy eyes.
+
+"What things? Why, young ladies are not always the most intelligible
+problems on earth. I think you ought to know that; and really I do
+think, in such matters, it is far better that they should be left to
+themselves as much as possible; and I think, besides, that there are
+some difficulties that did not strike us. I mean, that I now see that
+there really are great difficulties--insuperable difficulties."
+
+"Can you define them?" said Longcluse coldly.
+
+"I don't want to vex you, Longcluse, and I don't want to quarrel."
+
+"That's extremely kind of you."
+
+"I don't know whether you are serious, but it is quite true. I don't
+wish any unpleasantness between us. I don't think I need say more than
+that; having thought it over, I don't see how it could ever be."
+
+"Will you give me your reasons?"
+
+"I really don't see that I can add anything in particular to what I have
+said."
+
+"I think, Mr. Arden, considering all that has passed between us on this
+subject, that you are _bound_ to let me know your reasons for so marked
+a change of opinion."
+
+"I can't agree with you, Mr. Longcluse. I don't see in the least why I
+need tell you my particular reasons for the opinion I have expressed. My
+sister can act for herself, and I certainly shall not account to you for
+my reasons or opinions in the matter."
+
+Mr. Longcluse's pale face grew whiter, and his brows knit, as he fixed a
+momentary stare on the young man; but he mastered his anger, and said in
+a cold tone--
+
+"We disagree totally upon that point, and I rather think the time will
+come when you _must_ explain."
+
+"I have no more to say upon the subject, Sir, except this," said Arden,
+very tartly, "that it is certain your hopes can never lead to anything,
+and that I object to your continuing your visits at Mortlake."
+
+"Why, the house does not belong to you--it belongs to Sir Reginald
+Arden, who objects to your visits and receives mine. Your ideas seem a
+little confused," and he laughed gently and coldly.
+
+"Very much the reverse, Sir. I object to my sister being exposed to the
+least chance of annoyance from your visits. I protest against it, and
+you will be so good as to understand that I distinctly forbid them."
+
+"The young lady's father, I presume, will hardly ask your advice in the
+matter, and _I_ certainly shall not ask your leave. I shall call when I
+please, so long as I am received at Mortlake, and shall direct my own
+conduct, without troubling you for counsel in my affairs." Mr. Longcluse
+laughed again icily.
+
+"And so shall I, mine," said Arden sharply.
+
+"You have no right to treat anyone so," said Longcluse angrily--"as if
+one had broken his honour, or committed a crime."
+
+"A crime!" repeated Richard Arden. "Oh! _That_, indeed, would pretty
+well end all relations."
+
+"Yes, as, perhaps, you shall find," answered Longcluse, with sudden and
+oracular ferocity.
+
+Each gentleman had gone a little farther than he had at first intended.
+Richard Arden had a proud and fierce temper when it was roused. He was
+near saying what would have amounted to insult. It was a chance opening
+of the door that prevented it. Both gentlemen had stood up.
+
+"Please, Sir, have you done with the room, Sir?" asked the man.
+
+"Yes," said Longcluse, and laughed again as he turned on his heel.
+
+"Because three gentlemen want the room, if it's not engaged, Sir. And
+Lord Wynderbroke is waiting for you, please, Mr. Arden."
+
+So with a little toss of his head, which he held unusually high, and a
+flushed and "glooming" countenance, Richard Arden marched a little
+swaggeringly forth, to his dinner _tête-à-tête_ with Lord Wynderbroke.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXVIII.
+
+STORIES ABOUT MR. LONGCLUSE.
+
+
+The irritation of this unpleasant interview soon subsided, but Mr.
+Longcluse's anxiety rather increased.
+
+Next day early in the afternoon he drove to Lady May's and she received
+him just as usual. He learned from her, without appearing to seek the
+information, that Alice Arden was still at Mortlake. His visit was one
+of but two or three minutes. He jumped into a hansom and drove out to
+Mortlake. He knocked. Man of the world as he was, his heart beat faster.
+
+"Is Miss Arden at home?"
+
+"No, Sir."
+
+"Not at home?"
+
+"Miss Arden is gone out, Sir."
+
+"Oh! perhaps in the garden?"
+
+"No, Sir; she has gone out, and won't be back for some time."
+
+The man spoke with the promptitude and decision of a servant instructed
+to deny his mistress to the visitor. He had not a card; he would call
+again another day.
+
+He heard the piano faintly, and, he thought, Alice's voice also; and
+certainly he saw Vivian Darnley in the drawing-room window, as his cab
+turned away from the door. With a swelling heart he drove into town. The
+portcullis, then, had fallen; access was denied him; and he should see
+her no more!
+
+Good Heaven! what had he done? He walked distractedly, for a while, up
+and down his study. Should he employ Lady May's intervention, and tell
+her the whole story? Good-natured Lady May! Perhaps she would undertake
+his cause, and plead for his re-admission. But was even that so certain?
+How could he tell what view she might take of the matter? And were she
+to intercede for him ever so vehemently, how could he tell that she had
+any chance of prevailing?
+
+No; on the whole it was better to be his own advocate. He would sit down
+then and there, and write to the offended or alarmed lady, and lay his
+piteous case before her in his own words and rely on her compassion,
+without an intervenient.
+
+How many letters he began, how many he even finished, and rejected, I
+need not tire you by telling. Some were composed in the first, others in
+the third person. Not one satisfied him. Here was the man of a million
+and more, who would dash off a note to his stock-broker, to buy or sell
+a hundred thousand pounds' worth of stock--who would draft a resolution
+of the bank of which he was the chairman, directing an operation which
+would make men open their eyes, without the tremor of a nerve or the
+hesitation of a moment--unmanned, helpless, distracted in the endeavour
+to write a note to a young and inexperienced girl!
+
+O beautiful sex! what a triumph is here! O Love! what fools will you not
+make of us poor masculine wiseacres! The letter he dispatched was in
+these terms. I daresay he had torn better ones to pieces:--
+
+    "DEAR MISS ARDEN,--I had hoped that my profound contrition might
+    have atoned for a momentary indiscretion--the declaration, though in
+    terms the most respectful, of feelings which I had not self-command
+    sufficient to suppress, and which had for nearly a year remained
+    concealed in my own breast. I am sure, Miss Arden, that you are
+    incapable of a gratuitous cruelty. Have I not sworn that one word to
+    recall the remembrance of that, to me, all but fatal madness shall
+    never escape my lips, in your presence? May I not entreat that you
+    will forget it, that you will forbear to pass upon me the agonising
+    sentence of exclusion? You shall never again have to complain of my
+    uttering one word that the merest acquaintance, who is permitted the
+    happiness of conversing with you, might not employ. You shall never
+    regret your forbearance. I shall never cease to bless you for it;
+    and whatever decision you arrive at, it shall be respected by me as
+    sacred law. I shall never cease to reverence and bless the hand that
+    spares or--afflicts me. May I be permitted this one melancholy hope,
+    may I be allowed to interpret your omitting to answer this miserable
+    letter as a concession of its prayer? Unless forbidden, I will
+    endeavour to construe your silence as oblivion.
+
+    "I have the honour to remain, dear Miss Arden, with deep compunction
+    and respect, but not altogether without hope in your mercy,
+
+    "Yours the most unhappy and distracted man in England,
+
+    "WALTER LONGCLUSE."
+
+Mr. Longcluse sealed this letter in its envelope, and addressed it. He
+would have liked to send it that moment, by his servant, but an odd
+shyness prevented. He did not wish his servants to conjure and put their
+heads together over it; he could not endure the idea; so with his own
+hand he dropped it in the post. Somewhat in the style of the old novel
+was this composition of Mr. Longcluse's--a little theatrical, and, one
+would have fancied, even affected; yet never was man more desperately
+sincere.
+
+Night came, and brought no reply. Was no news good news, or would the
+morning bring, perhaps from Richard Arden, a withering answer? Morning
+came, and no answer: what was he to conjecture?
+
+That day, in Grosvenor Square, he passed Richard Arden, who looked
+steadily and sternly a little to his right, and _cut_ him.
+
+It was a marked and decided cut. His ears tingled as if he had received
+a slap in the face. So things had assumed a very decided attitude
+indeed! Longcluse felt very oddly enraged, at first; then anxious. It
+was insulting that Richard Arden should have taken the initiative in
+dissolving relations. But had he not been himself studiously impertinent
+to Arden, in that brief colloquy of yesterday? He ought to have been
+prepared for this. Without explanation, and the shaking of hands, it was
+impossible that relations of amity should have been resumed between
+them. But Longcluse had been entirely absorbed by a threatened
+alienation that affected him much more nearly. There was a thesis for
+conjecture in the situation, which made him still more anxious. A very
+little time would probably clear all up.
+
+He was walking homeward, saying to himself as he went, "No, I shall find
+no answer; I should be a fool to fancy anything else;" and yet walking
+all the more quickly, as he approached his house, in the hope of the
+very letter which he affected, to himself, to have quite rejected as an
+impossibility. Some letters had come, but none from Mortlake. His letter
+to Alice was still unanswered. He was now in the agony of suspense and
+distraction.
+
+The same evening Richard Arden was talking about him, as he leaned with
+his elbow on the mantelpiece at Mortlake. He and Alice were alone in the
+drawing-room, awaiting the arrival of the little dinner-party. This, as
+you know, was to include Lord Wynderbroke, before whose advances, in
+Richard Arden's vision, Mr. Longcluse had waned, and even become an
+embarrassment and a nuisance.
+
+"It is easier to cut him than to explain," thought Richard Arden. "It
+bores one so inexpressibly, giving reasons for what one does, and I'm so
+glad he has saved me the trouble by his vulgar impertinence."
+
+They had talked for some time, Alice chiefly a listener. How was she
+affected toward Mr. Longcluse? He was agreeable; he flattered her; he
+was passionately in love with her. All but this latter condition she
+liked very well; but this was embarrassing, and quite impracticable. Who
+knows what that tiny spark we term a fancy, a whim, a _penchant_ might
+have grown to, had it not been blown away by this untimely gust? But,
+for my part, I don't think it ever would have grown to a matter of the
+heart. There was something in the way. A fancy is one thing, and passion
+quite another. Pique is a common state of mind, and comes and goes, and
+comes again, in many a courtship. But a liking that has once entered the
+heart cannot be torn out in a hasty moment, and takes a long time, and
+many a struggle, to kill.
+
+She was a little sorry, just then, to lose him so inevitably. Perhaps
+his letter, to which he had trusted to move her, had rendered the return
+of old relations impossible. In this letter she felt herself the owner
+of a secret--a secret which she could not keep without a sort of
+understanding growing up between them--which therefore she had no idea
+of keeping.
+
+She was resolved to tell it. The letter she had locked, in marked
+isolation, as if no property of hers, but simply a document that was in
+her keeping, in the pretty ormolu casket that stood on the drawing-room
+chimney-piece. She had intended showing it, and telling the story of the
+scene in the garden, to Richard. But he was speaking with a mysterious
+asperity of Mr. Longcluse, which made her hesitate. A very little thing,
+it seemed to her, might suffice to make a very violent quarrel out of a
+coldness. Instinctively, therefore, she refrained, and listened to
+Richard while, with his arm touching the casket on the chimney-piece, he
+descanted on the writer of the unknown letter.
+
+She experienced an odd feeling of insecurity as, in the course of his
+talk, his fingers began to trifle with the pretty fingers that stood out
+in relief upon the casket; for she knew that the ordeal of the pistol,
+discountenanced in England, was still in force on the Continent, and Mr.
+Longcluse's ideas were all Continental; and how near were those fingers
+to the letter which might suffice to explode the dangerous element that
+had already accumulated!
+
+"He has talked of us to his low companions; he chooses to associate with
+usurers and worse people; and he has been speaking of us in the most
+insolent terms."
+
+"Really!" said Alice. Her large eyes looked larger as they fixed on him.
+
+"Yes, and I'll tell you how I heard it. You must know, dear Alice, that
+I happened to want a little money; and when one does, the usual course
+is to borrow it. So I paid a visit to my harpy--and a harpy in need is a
+harpy indeed. Being hard up, he fleeced me; and the gentleman, I
+suppose, thinking he might be familiar, told me he was on confidential
+terms with Mr. Longcluse and wished me a good deal of joy. 'Of what?' I
+ventured to ask, for he had just hit me rather hard. 'Of your chance,'
+or, as he called it _chanshe_, he said, with a delightfully arch leer. I
+thought he meant I had backed the right horse for the Derby, but it
+turned out he meant our chance of inducing Mr. Longcluse to make up his
+mind to marry you. I was very near knocking him down; but a man who has
+one's bill for three hundred pounds must be respected. So I merely
+ventured to ask on whose authority he congratulated me, when it appeared
+it was on Mr. Longcluse's own, who, it seems, had said a great deal
+more, equally intolerable. In plain, coarse terms, he says that, being
+poor, we have conspired with you to secure him, Mr. Longcluse, for your
+husband. As to the fact of his having actually conveyed that, and to
+more people than one, there is and can be no doubt whatever. I can
+imagine, considering all things, nothing more vulgar, audacious, and
+cowardly."
+
+A blush of anger glowed in Alice's face. Richard Arden liked the proud
+fire that gleamed from her dark grey eyes. It satisfied him that his
+words were not lost.
+
+"I lighted on a man who knew more about him than I had learned before,"
+resumed Richard Arden. "He was suspected at Berlin of having been
+engaged in a conspiracy to pigeon Dacre and Wilmot, who were travelling.
+He did not appear, but he is said to have supplied the money, and had a
+lion's share of the spoil. There is no good in repeating these things
+generally, you know, because they are so hard to prove; and a fellow
+like that is dangerous. They say he is very litigious."
+
+"Upon my word, if your information is at all to be relied on, it is
+plain we _have_ made a great mistake. It is a disappointing world, but I
+could not have fancied him doing anything so low; and I must say for him
+that he was gentlemanlike and quiet, and very unlike the person he
+appears to be. I think I never heard of anything so outrageous! Vivian
+Darnley told me that he was a great duellist, and thought to be a very
+quarrelsome, dangerous companion abroad. But he had only heard this, and
+what you tell me is so much worse, so mean, so utterly intolerable!"
+
+"Oh! There's worse than that," said Richard, with a faint sinister
+smile.
+
+"What?" said she, returning it with an almost frightened gaze.
+
+"There was a very beautiful girl at the opera in Vienna; her name was
+Piccardi, a daughter of a good old Roman family. You can't imagine how
+admired she was! And she was thought to be on the point of marrying
+Count Baddenoff; Mr. Longcluse, it seems, chose to be in love with her;
+he was not then anything like so rich as he became afterwards--and this
+poor girl was killed."
+
+"Good heavens! Richard--what can you mean?"
+
+"I mean that she was assassinated, and that from that day Mr. Longcluse
+was never received in society in Vienna, and had to leave it."
+
+"You ought to tell May Penrose," said she, after a silence of dismay.
+
+"Not for the world," said Richard; "she talks enough for six--and
+where's the good? She'll only take up the cudgels for him, and we shall
+be in the centre of a pretty row."
+
+"Well, if you think it best----" she began.
+
+"Certainly," said he. And a silence followed.
+
+"Here is a carriage at the door," said Richard Arden. "Let us dismiss
+Longcluse, and look a little more like ourselves."
+
+That evening there came letters as usual to Mr. Longcluse, and among
+others a note from Lady May Penrose, reminding him of her little
+garden-party at Richmond next day.
+
+"By Jove!" he exclaimed, starting up and reading the cards on his
+chimney, "I thought it was the day after. It was very good-natured, poor
+old thing, her reminding me. I shall see Alice Arden there. Not one line
+does she vouchsafe. But is not she right? I think the more highly of her
+for not writing. I don't think she ought to write. Oh, Heaven grant she
+may meet me as usual? Does she mean it? If she did not, would she not
+have got her brother to write, or have written herself a cold line, to
+end our acquaintance?"
+
+So he tried to comfort himself, and to keep alive his dying hope by
+these artificial stimulants.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXIX.
+
+THE GARDEN PARTY.
+
+
+Next morning Mr. Longcluse rose with a sense of something before him.
+
+"So I shall see her to-day! If she's the girl I've thought her, she will
+meet me as usual. That frantic scene, in which I risked all on the turn
+of a die, will be forgotten. Hasty words, or precipitate letters, are
+passed over every day; the man who commits such follies, under a
+transitory insanity, is allowed the privilege of recalling them. There
+were no witnesses present to make forgiveness difficult. It all lies
+with her own good sense, and a heart proud but gentle. Let but those mad
+words be sponged out, and I am happy. Alice, if you forgive me, I
+forgive your brother, and take his name from where it is, and write it
+in my heart. Oh, beautiful Alice! will you belie your looks? Oh, clear
+bright mind! will you be clouded and perverted? Oh, gentle heart! can
+you be merciless?"
+
+Mr. Longcluse made his simple morning toilet very carefully. A very
+plain man, extremely ugly some pronounce him; yet his figure is good,
+his get-up unexceptionable, and altogether he is a most gentlemanlike
+man to look upon, and in his movements and attitudes, quite unstudied,
+there is an undefinable grace. His accent is a little foreign--the
+slightest thing in the world, and Lady May Penrose declares it is so
+very pretty. Then he is so agreeable, when he pleases; and he is so very
+rich!
+
+Some people wonder why he does not withdraw from all speculations,
+retire upon his enormous wealth, and with his elegant tastes, and the
+art of being magnificent without glare, even gorgeous without
+vulgarity--for has he not shown this refined talent in the service of
+others, who have taken him into council?--he could eclipse all the world
+in splendid elegance, and make his way, _force d'argent_, to the
+pinnacle of half the world's ambition. Were those stories true that
+Richard Arden told his sister on the night before?
+
+I don't think that Richard Arden stuck at trifles, where he had an
+object to gain, and I don't believe a word of his story of Mr.
+Longcluse's insulting talk. It was not his way to boast and vapour; and
+he had a secret contempt for many of the Jewish and other agents whom he
+chose to employ. But undoubtedly Mr. Longcluse had the reputation among
+his discounting admirers of being a dangerous man to quarrel with; and
+also it was true that he had fought three or four savage duels in the
+course of his Continental life. There were other stories,
+unauthenticated, unpleasant. These were whispered with sneers by Mr.
+Longcluse's enemies. But there's a divinity doth hedge a King Crœsus,
+and his character bore a charmed life, among the missiles that would
+have laid that of many a punier man in the dust.
+
+With an agitated heart, Mr. Longcluse approached the pretty little place
+known as Raleigh Court, to which he had been invited. Through the
+quaint, old-fashioned gate-way, under the embowering branches of tall
+trees, he drove up a short, broad avenue, clumped at each side with old
+timber, to the open hall-door of the pretty Elizabethan house. Carriages
+of all sorts were discernible under the branches, assembled at the
+further side to the right of the hall-door, over the wide steps of which
+was spread a scarlet cloth. Croquet parties were already visible on the
+shorn grass, under boughs that spread high in the air, and cast a
+pleasant shadow on the sward. Groups were strolling among the
+flower-beds--some walking in, some emerging from the open door--and the
+scene presented the usual variety of dress, and somewhat listless to-ing
+and fro-ing.
+
+Did anyone, of all the guests of Lady May, mask so profound an
+agitation, under the conventional smile, as that which beat at Walter
+Longcluse's heart? Two or three people whom he knew, he met and talked
+to--some for a minute, others for a longer time--as he drew near the
+steps. His eye all the time was busy in the search after one pretty
+figure, the least glimpse of which he would have recognised with the
+thrill of a sure intuition, far or near. He would have liked to ask the
+friends he met whether the Ardens were here. But what would have been
+easy to him a week before, was now an effort for which he could not find
+courage.
+
+He entered the hall, quaint and lofty, rising to the entire height of
+the house, with two galleries, one above the other, surrounding it on
+three sides. Ancestors of the late Mr. Penrose, who had left all this
+and a great deal more to his sorrowing relict, stood on the panelled
+walls at full length--some in ruffs and trunk-hose, others in perukes
+and cut-velvet, one with a bâton in his hand, and three with falcon on
+fist--all stately and gentlemanlike, according to their several periods;
+with corresponding ladies, some stiff and pallid, who figured in the
+days of the virgin queen, and others in the graceful _déshabille_ of Sir
+Peter Lely. This quaint oak hall was now resonant with the buzz and
+clack of modern gossip, prose, and flirtation, and a great deal crowded,
+notwithstanding its commodious proportions. Lady May was still receiving
+her company near the doorway of the first drawing-room, and her kindly
+voice was audible from within as the visitor approached. Mr. Longcluse
+was very graciously received.
+
+"I want you so particularly, to introduce you to Lady Hummington. She is
+such a charming person. She is so thoroughly up in German literature.
+She's a great deal too learned for me, but you and she will understand
+one another so perfectly, and you will be quite charmed with her. Mr.
+Addlings, did you happen to see Lady Hummington, or have you any idea
+where she's gone?"
+
+"I shall go and look for her, with pleasure. Is not she the tall lady
+with grey hair? Shall I tell her you want to say a word to her?"
+
+"You're very kind, but I'll not mind, thank you very much. It is so
+provoking, Mr. Longcluse! you would have been perfectly charmed with
+her."
+
+"I shall be more fortunate, by-and-by, perhaps," said Mr. Longcluse.
+"Are any of our friends from Mortlake here?" he added, looking a little
+fixedly in her eyes, for he was thinking whether Alice had betrayed his
+secret, and was trying to read an answer there.
+
+Lady May answered quite promptly--
+
+"Oh, yes, Alice is here, and her brother. He went out that way with some
+friends," she said, indicating with a little nod a door which, from a
+second hall, opened on a terrace. "I asked him to show them the three
+fountains. You must see them also; they are in the Dutch garden; they
+were put up in the reign of George the First.--How d'ye do, Mrs.
+Frumply? How d'ye do, Miss Frumply?"
+
+"What a charming house!" exclaims Mrs. Frumply, "and what a day! We were
+saying, Arabella and I, as we drove out, that you must really have an
+influence with the clerk of the weather, ha, ha, ha! didn't we,
+Arabella? So charming!"
+
+Lady May laughed affably, and said--"Won't you and your daughter go in
+and take some tea? Mr. (she was going to call on Longcluse, but he had
+glided away)--Oh, Mr. Darnley!"
+
+And the introduction was made, and Vivian Darnley, with Mrs. Frumply on
+his arm, attended by her daughter Arabella, did as he was commanded and
+got tea for that simpering lady, and fruit and Naples biscuits, and
+plum-cake, and was rewarded with the original joke about the clerk of
+the weather.
+
+Mr. Longcluse, in the meantime, had passed the door indicated by Lady
+May, and stood upon the short terrace that overlooked the pretty
+flower-garden cut out in grotesque patterns, so that looking down upon
+its masses of crimson, blue, and yellow, as he leaned on the balustrade,
+it showed beneath his eye like a wide deep-piled carpet, on the green
+ground of which were walking groups of people, the brilliant hues of the
+ladies' dresses rivalling the splendour of the verbenas, and making
+altogether a very gay picture.
+
+The usual paucity of male attendance made Mr. Longcluse's task of
+observation easy. He was looking for Richard Arden's well-known figure
+among the groups, thinking that probably Alice was not far off. But he
+was not there, nor was Alice; and Walter Longcluse, gloomy and lonely in
+this gay crowd, descended the steps at the end of this terrace, and
+sauntered round again to the front of the house, now and then passing
+some one he knew, with an exchange of a smile or a bow, and then lost
+again in the Vanity Fair of strange faces and voices.
+
+Now he is at the hall door--he mounts the steps. Suddenly, as he stands
+upon the level platform at top, he finds himself within four feet of
+Richard Arden. He looks on him as he might on the carved pilaster, at
+the side of the hall door; no one could have guessed, by his inflexible
+but unaffected glance, that he and Mr. Arden had ever been acquainted.
+The younger man showed something in his countenance, a sudden hauteur, a
+little elevation of the chin, a certain sternness, more melodramatic,
+though less effective, than the simple blank of Mr. Longcluse's glance.
+
+That gentleman looked about coolly. He was in search of Miss Arden, but
+he did not see her. He entered the hall again, and Richard Arden a
+little awkwardly resumed his conversation, which had suddenly subsided
+into silence on Longcluse's appearance.
+
+By this time Lady May was more at ease, having received all her company
+that were reasonably punctual, and in the hall Longcluse now encountered
+her.
+
+"Have you seen Mr. Arden?" she inquired of him.
+
+"Yes, he's at the door, at the steps."
+
+"Would you mind telling him kindly that I want to say a word to him?"
+
+"Certainly, most happy," said Longcluse, without any distinct plan as to
+how he was to execute her awkward commission.
+
+"Thank you very much. But, oh! dear, here is Lady Hummington, and she
+wishes so much to know you; I'll send some one else. I must introduce
+you, come with me--Lady Hummington, I want to introduce my friend, Mr.
+Longcluse." So Mr. Longcluse was presented to Lady Hummington, who was
+very lean, and a "blue," and most fatiguingly well up in archæology, and
+all new books on dry and difficult subjects. So that Mr. Longcluse felt
+that he was, in _Joe Willett's_ phrase, "tackled" by a giant, and was
+driven to hideous exertions of attention and memory to hold his own.
+When Lady Hummington, to whom it was plain kind Lady May, with an
+unconscious cruelty, had been describing Mr. Longcluse's accomplishments
+and acquirements, had taken some tea and other refection, and when Mr.
+Longcluse's kindness "had her wants supplied," and she, like Scott's
+"old man" in the "Lay of the Last Minstrel," "was gratified," she
+proposed visiting the music-room, where she had heard a clever organist
+play, on a harmonium, three distinct tunes at the same time, which being
+composed on certain principles, that she explained with much animation
+and precision, harmonised very prettily.
+
+So this clever woman directed, and Mr. Longcluse led, the way to the
+music-room.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXX.
+
+HE SEES HER.
+
+
+Mr. Longcluse's attention was beginning to wander a little, and his eyes
+were now busy in search of some one whom he had not found; and knowing
+that the duration of people's stay at a garden-party is always
+uncertain, and that some of those gaily-plumed birds who make the
+flutter, and chirping, and brilliancy of the scene, hardly alight before
+they take wing again, he began to fear that Alice Arden had gone.
+
+"Just like my luck!" he thought bitterly; "and if she is gone, when
+shall I have an opportunity of seeing her again?"
+
+Lady Hummington's well-informed conversation had been, unheeded,
+accompanying the ruminations and distractions of this "passionate
+pilgrim;" and as they approached the door of the music-room, the little
+crush there brought the learned lady's lips so near to his ear, that
+with a little start he heard the words--"All strictly arithmetical, you
+know, and adjusted by the relative frequency of vibrations. That theory,
+I am sure, you approve, Mr. Longcluse."
+
+To which the distracted lover made answer, "I quite agree with you, Lady
+Hummington."
+
+The music-room at Raleigh Court is an apartment of no great size, and
+therefore when, with Lady Hummington on his arm, he entered, it was at
+no great distance that he saw Miss Arden standing near the window, and
+talking with an elderly gentleman, whose appearance he did not know, but
+who seemed to be extremely interested in her conversation. She saw him,
+he had not a doubt, for she turned a little quickly, and looked ever so
+little more directly out at the window, and a very slight tinge flushed
+her cheek. It was quite plain, he thought, and a dreadful pang stole
+through his breast, that she did not choose to see him--quite plain that
+she did see him--and he thought, from a subtle scrutiny of her beautiful
+features, quite plain also that it gave her pain to meet without
+acknowledging him.
+
+Lady Hummington was conversing with volubility; but the air felt icy,
+and there was a strange trembling at his heart, and this, in many
+respects, hard man of the world, felt that the tears were on the point
+of welling from his eyes. The struggle was but for a few moments, and he
+seemed quite himself again. Lady Hummington wished to go to the end of
+the room where the piano was, and the harmonium on which the organist
+had performed his feat of the three tunes. That artist was taking his
+departure, having a musical assignation of some kind to keep. But to
+oblige Lady Hummington, who had heard of Thalberg's doing something of
+the kind, he sat down and played an elaborate piece of music on the
+piano with his thumbs only. This charming effort over, and applauded,
+the performer took his departure. And Lady Hummington said--
+
+"I am told, Mr. Longcluse, that you are a very good musician."
+
+"A very indifferent performer, Lady Hummington."
+
+"Lady May Penrose tells a very different tale."
+
+"Lady May Penrose is too kind to be critical," said Longcluse; and as he
+maintained this dialogue, his eye was observing every movement of Alice
+Arden. She seemed, however, to have quite made up her mind to stand her
+ground. There was a strange interest, to him, even in being in the same
+room with her. Perhaps Miss Arden saw that Mr. Longcluse's movements
+were dependent upon those of the lady whom he accompanied, and might
+have thought that, the musician having departed, their stay in that room
+would not be very long.
+
+"I should be so glad to hear you sing, Mr. Longcluse," pursued Lady
+Hummington. "You have been in the East, I think; have you any of the
+Hindostanee songs? There are some, I have read, that embody the theories
+of the Brahmin philosophy."
+
+"Long-winded songs, I fancy," said Mr. Longcluse, laughing; "it is a
+very voluminous philosophy, but the truth is, I've got a little cold,
+and I should not like to make a bad impression so early."
+
+"But surely there are some simple little things, without very much
+compass, that would not distress you. How pretty those old English songs
+are that they are collecting and publishing now! I mean songs of
+Shakespeare's time--Ben Jonson's, Beaumont and Fletcher's, and
+Massinger's, you know. Some of them are so extremely pretty!"
+
+"Oh! yes, I'll sing you one of those with pleasure," said he with a
+strange alacrity, quite forgetting his cold, sitting down at the
+instrument, and striking two or three fierce chords.
+
+I am sure that most of my readers are acquainted with that pretty old
+English song, of the time of James the First, entitled, "Once I Loved a
+Maiden Fair." That was the song he chose.
+
+Never, perhaps, did he sing so well before, with a fluctuation of pathos
+and scorn, tenderness and hatred, expressed with real dramatic fire, and
+with more power of voice than at moments of less excitement he
+possessed. He sang it with real passion, and produced, exactly where he
+wished, a strange but unavowed sensation. He omitted one verse, and the
+song as he delivered it was thus:--
+
+    "Once I loved a maiden fair,
+       But she did deceive me:
+     She with Venus could compare,
+       In my mind, believe me.
+     She was young, and among
+       All our maids the sweetest:
+     Now I say, Ah, well-a-day!
+       Brightest hopes are fleetest.
+
+     Maidens wavering and untrue
+       Many a heart have broken;
+     Sweetest lips the world e'er knew
+       Falsest words have spoken.
+     Fare thee well, faithless girl,
+       I'll not sorrow for thee:
+     Once I held thee dear as pearl,
+       Now I do abhor thee."
+
+When he had finished the song, he said coldly, but very distinctly, as
+he rose--
+
+"I like that song, there is a melancholy psychology in it. It is a song
+worthy of Shakespeare himself."
+
+Lady Hummington urged him with an encore, but he was proof against her
+entreaties. And so, after a little, she took Mr. Longcluse's arm; and
+Alice felt relieved when the room was rid of them.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXXI.
+
+ABOUT THE GROUNDS.
+
+
+Lady Hummington, well pleased at having found in Mr. Longcluse what she
+termed a kindred mind, was warned by the hour that she must depart. She
+took her leave of Mr. Longcluse with regret, and made him promise to
+come to luncheon with her on the Thursday following. Mr. Longcluse
+called her carriage for her, and put in, besides herself, her maiden
+sister and two daughters, who all exhibited the family leanness, with
+noses more or less red and aquiline, and small black eyes, set rather
+close together.
+
+As he ascended the steps he was accosted by a damsel in distress.
+
+"Mr. Longcluse, I'm so glad to see you! You must do a very good-natured
+thing," said handsome Miss Maubray, smiling on him. "I came here with
+old Sir Arthur and Lady Tramway, and I've lost them; and I've been bored
+to death by a Mr. Bagshot, and I've sent him to look for my
+pocket-handkerchief in the tea-room; and I want you, as you hope for
+mercy, to show it now, and rescue me from my troubles."
+
+"I'm too much honoured. I'm only too happy, Miss Maubray. I shall put
+Mr. Bagshot to death, if you wish it, and Sir Arthur and Lady Tramway
+shall appear the moment you command."
+
+Mr. Longcluse was talking his nonsense with the high spirits which
+sometimes attend a painful excitement.
+
+"I told them I should get to that tree if I were lost in the crowd, and
+that they would be sure to find me under it after six o'clock. Do take
+me there; I am so afraid of Mr. Bagshot's returning!"
+
+So over the short grass that handsome girl walked, with Mr. Longcluse at
+her side.
+
+"I'll sit at this side, thank you; I don't want to be seen by Mr.
+Bagshot."
+
+So she sat down, placing herself at the further side of the great trunk
+of the old chestnut-tree. Mr. Longcluse stood nearly opposite, but so
+placed as to command a view of the hall-door steps. He was still
+watching the groups that emerged, with as much interest as if his life
+depended on the order of their to-ing and fro-ing. But, in spite of
+this, very soon Miss Maubray's talk began to interest him.
+
+"Whom did Alice Arden come with?" asked Miss Maubray. "I should like to
+know; because, if I should lose my people, I must find some one to take
+me home."
+
+"With her brother, I fancy."
+
+"Oh! yes, to be sure--I saw him here. I forgot. But Alice is very
+independent, just now, of his protection," and she laughed.
+
+"How do you mean?"
+
+"Oh! Lord Wynderbroke, of course, takes care of her while she's here. I
+saw them walking about together, so happy! I suppose it is all settled."
+
+"About Lord Wynderbroke?" suggested Longcluse, with a gentle
+carelessness, as if he did not care a farthing--as if a dreadful pain
+had not at that moment pierced his heart.
+
+"Yes, Lord Wynderbroke. Why, haven't you heard of that?"
+
+"Yes, I believe--I think so. I am sure I have heard something of it; but
+one hears so many things, one forgets, and I don't know him. What kind
+of man is he?"
+
+"He's hard to describe; he's not disagreeable, and he's not dull; he has
+a great deal to say for himself about pictures, and the East, and the
+Crimea, and the opera, and all the people at all the courts in Europe,
+and he ought to be amusing; but I think he is the driest person I ever
+talked to. And he is really good-natured; but I think him much more
+teasing than the most ill-natured man alive, he's so insufferably
+punctual and precise."
+
+"You know him very well, then?" said Longcluse, with an effort to
+contribute his share to the talk.
+
+"Pretty well," said the young lady, with just a slight tinge flushing
+her haughty cheek. "But no one, who has been a week in the same house
+with him, could fail to see all that."
+
+Miss Maubray herself, I am told, had hopes of Lord Wynderbroke about a
+year before, and was not amiably disposed towards him now, and looked on
+the triumph of Alice a little sourly; although something like the
+beginning of a real love had since stolen into her heart--not, perhaps,
+destined to be much more happy.
+
+"Lord Wynderbroke--I don't know him. Is that gentleman he whom I saw
+talking to Miss Arden in the music-room, I wonder? He's not actually
+thin, and he is not at all stout; he's a little above the middle height,
+and he stoops just a little. He appears past fifty, and his hair looks
+like an old-fashioned brown wig, brushed up into a sort of cone over his
+forehead. He seems a little formal, and very polite and smiling, with a
+flower in his button-hole; a blue coat; and he has a pair of those
+little gold Paris glasses, and was looking out through the window with
+them."
+
+"Had he a high nose?"
+
+"Yes, rather a thin, high nose, and his face is very brown."
+
+"Well, if he was all that, and had a brown face and a high nose, and was
+pretty near fifty-three, and very near Alice Arden, he was positively
+Lord Wynderbroke."
+
+"And has this been going on for some time, or is it a sudden thing?"
+
+"Both, I believe. It has been going on a long time, I believe, in old
+Sir Reginald's head; but it has come about, after all, rather suddenly;
+and my guardian says--Mr. David Arden, you know--that he has written a
+proposal in a letter to Sir Reginald, and you see how happy the young
+lady looks. So I think we may assume that the course of true love, for
+once, runs smooth--don't you?"
+
+"And I suppose there is no objection anywhere?" said Longcluse, smiling.
+"It is a pity he is not a little younger, perhaps."
+
+"I don't hear any complaints; let us rather rejoice he is not ten or
+twenty years older. I am sure it would not prevent his happiness, but it
+would heighten the ridicule. Are you one of Lady May Penrose's party to
+the Derby to-morrow?" inquired the young lady.
+
+"No; I haven't been asked."
+
+"Lord Wynderbroke is going."
+
+"Oh! of course he is."
+
+"I don't think Mr. David Arden likes it; but, of course, it is no
+business of his if other people are pleased. I wonder you did not hear
+all this from Richard Arden, you and he are so intimate."
+
+So said the young lady, looking very innocent. But I think she suspected
+more than she said.
+
+"No, I did not hear it," he said carelessly; "or, if I did, I forgot it.
+But do you blame the young lady?"
+
+"Blame her! not at all. Besides, I am not so sure that she knows."
+
+"How can you think so?"
+
+"Because I think she likes quite another person."
+
+"Really! And who is he?"
+
+"Can't you guess?"
+
+"Upon my honour, I can't."
+
+There was something so earnest, and even vehement, in this sudden
+asseveration, that Miss Maubray looked for a moment in his face; and
+seeing her curious expression, he said more quietly, "I assure you I
+don't think I ever heard; I'm rather curious to know."
+
+"I mean Mr. Vivian Darnley."
+
+"Oh! Well, I've suspected that a long time. I told Richard Arden, one
+day--I forget how it came about--but he said no."
+
+"Well, I say yes," laughed the young lady, "and we shall see who's
+right."
+
+"Oh! Recollect I'm only giving you his opinion. I rather lean to yours,
+but he said there was positively nothing in it, and that Mr. Darnley is
+too poor to marry."
+
+"If Alice Arden resembles me," said the young lady, "she thinks there
+are just two things to marry for--either love or ambition."
+
+"You place love first, I'm glad to hear," said Mr. Longcluse, with a
+smile.
+
+"So I do, because it is most likely to prevail with a pig-headed girl;
+but what I mean is this: that social pre-eminence--I mean rank, and not
+trumpery rank; but such as, being accompanied with wealth and
+precedence, is also attended with power--is worth an immense sacrifice
+of all other objects; my reason tells me, worth the sacrifice of love.
+But that is a sacrifice which impatient, impetuous people can't always
+so easily make--which I daresay I could not make if I were tried; but I
+don't think I shall ever be fool enough to become so insane, for the
+state of a person in love is a state of simple idiotism. It is pitiable,
+I allow, but also contemptible; but, judging by what I see, it appears
+to me a more irresistible delusion than ambition. But I don't understand
+Alice well. I think, if I knew a little more of her brother--certain
+qualities so run in families--I should be able to make a better guess.
+What do you think of him?"
+
+"He's very agreeable, isn't he? and, for the rest, really, until men are
+tried as events only can try them, it is neither wise nor safe to
+pronounce."
+
+"Is he affectionate?"
+
+"His sister seems to worship him," he answered; "but young ladies are so
+angelic, that where they like they resent nothing, and respect
+selfishness itself as a manly virtue."
+
+"But you know him intimately; surely you must know something of him."
+
+Under different circumstances, this audacious young lady's
+cross-examination would have amused Mr. Longcluse; but in his present
+relations, and spirits, it was otherwise.
+
+"I should but mislead you if I were to answer more distinctly. I answer
+for no man, hardly for myself. Besides, I question your theory. I don't
+think, except by accident, that a brother's character throws any light
+upon a sister's; and I hope--I think, I mean--that Miss Arden has
+qualities illimitably superior to those of her brother. Are these your
+friends, Miss Maubray?" he continued.
+
+"So they are," she answered. "I'm so much obliged to you, Mr. Longcluse!
+I think they are leaving."
+
+Mr. Longcluse, having delivered her into the hands of her chaperon, took
+his leave, and walked into the broad alleys among the trees, and in
+solitude under their shade, sat himself down by a pond, on which two
+swans were sailing majestically. Looking down upon the water with a
+pallid frown, he struck the bank beneath him viciously with his heel,
+peeling off little bits of the sward, which dropped into the water.
+
+"It is all plain enough now. Richard Arden has been playing me false. It
+ought not to surprise me, perhaps. The girl, I still believe, has
+neither act nor part in the conspiracy. She has been duped by her
+brother. I have thrown myself upon her mercy; I will now appeal to her
+_justice_. As for him--what vermin mankind are! He must return to his
+allegiance; he will. After all, he may not like to lose me. He will act
+in the way that most interests his selfishness. Come, come! it is no
+impracticable problem. I'm not cruel? Not I! No, I'm not cruel; but I am
+utterly just. I would not hang a mouse up by the tail to die, as they do
+in France, head downwards, of hunger, for eating my cheese; but should
+the vermin nibble at my heart, in that case, what says justice? Alice,
+beautiful Alice, you shall have every chance before I tear you from my
+heart--oh, for ever! Ambition! That coarse girl, Miss Maubray, can't
+understand you. Ambition, in her sense, you have none; there is nothing
+venal in your nature. Vivian Darnley, is there anything in that either?
+I think nothing. I observed them closely, that night, at Mortlake. No,
+there was nothing. My conversation and music interested her, and when I
+was by, he was nothing.
+
+"They are going to the Derby to-morrow. I think Lady May has treated me
+rather oddly, considering that she had all but borrowed my drag. She
+might have put me off civilly; but I don't blame her. She is
+good-natured, and if she has any idea that I and the Ardens are not
+quite on pleasant terms, it quite excuses it. Her asking me here, and
+her little note to remind, were meant to show that she did not take up
+the quarrel against me. Never mind; I shall know all about it, time
+enough. They are going to the Derby to-morrow. Very well, I shall go
+also. It will all be right yet. When did I fail? When did I renounce an
+object? By Heaven, one way or other, I'll accomplish this!"
+
+Tall Mr. Longcluse rose, and looked round him, and in deep thought,
+marched with a resolute step towards the house.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXXII.
+
+UNDER THE LIME-TREES.
+
+
+At this garden-party, marvellous as it may appear, Lord Wynderbroke has
+an aunt. How old she is I know not, nor yet with what conscience her
+respectable relations can permit her to haunt such places, and run a
+risk of being suffocated in doorways, or knocked down the steps by an
+enamoured couple hurrying off to more romantic quarters, or of having
+her maundering old head knocked with a croquet mallet, as she totters
+drearily among the hoops.
+
+This old lady is worth conciliating, for she has plate and jewels, and
+three thousand a-year to leave; and Lord Wynderbroke is a prudent man.
+He can bear a great deal of money, and has no objection to jewels, and
+thinks that the plate of his bachelor and old-maid kindred should
+gravitate to the centre and head of the house. Lord Wynderbroke was
+indulgent, and did not object to her living a little longer, for this
+aunt conduced to his air of juvenility more than the flower in his
+button-hole. However, she was occasionally troublesome, and on this
+occasion made an unwise mixture of fruit and other things; and a servant
+glided into the music-room, and with a proper inclination of his person,
+in a very soft tone said,--
+
+"My lord, Lady Witherspoons is in her carriage at the door, my lord, and
+says her ladyship is indisposed, and begs, my lord, that your lordship
+will be so good as to hacompany her 'ome in her carriage, my lord."
+
+"Oh! tell her ladyship I am so _very_ sorry, and will be with her in a
+moment." And he turned with a very serious countenance to Alice. "How
+extremely unfortunate! When I saw those miserable cherries, I knew how
+it would be; and now I am torn away from this charming place; and I'm
+sure I hope she may be better soon, it _is_ so (disgusting, he thought,
+but he said) melancholy! With whom shall I leave you, Miss Arden?"
+
+"Thanks, I came with my brother, and here is my cousin, Mr. Darnley, who
+can tell me where he is."
+
+"With a croquet party, near the little bridge. I'll be your guide, if
+you'll allow me," said Vivian Darnley eagerly.
+
+"Pray, Lord Wynderbroke, don't let me delay you longer. I shall find my
+brother quite easily now. I so hope Lady Witherspoons may soon be
+better!"
+
+"Oh, yes, she always _is_ better soon; but in the meantime one is
+carried away, you see, and everything upset; and all because, poor
+woman, she won't exercise the smallest restraint. And she has, of
+course, a right to command me, being my aunt, you know, and--and--the
+whole thing is ineffably provoking."
+
+And thus he took his reluctant departure, not without a brief but grave
+scrutiny of Mr. Vivian Darnley. When he was gone, Vivian Darnley
+proffered his arm, and that little hand was placed on it, the touch of
+which made his heart beat faster. Though people were beginning to go,
+there was still a crush about the steps. This little resistance and
+mimic difficulty were pleasant to him for her sake. Down the steps they
+went together, and now he had her all to himself; and silently for a
+while he led her over the closely-shorn grass, and into the green walk
+between the lime-trees, that leads down to the little bridge.
+
+"Alice," at last he said--"Miss Arden, what have I done that you are so
+changed?"
+
+"Changed! I don't think I am changed. What is there to change me?" she
+said carelessly, but in a low tone, as she looked along towards the
+flowers.
+
+"It won't do, Alice, repeating my question, for that is all you have
+done. I like you too well to be put off with mere words. You are
+changed, and without a cause--no, I could not say that--not without a
+cause. Circumstances are altered; you are in the great world now, and
+admired; you have wealth and titles at your feet--Mr. Longcluse with his
+millions, Lord Wynderbroke with his coronet."
+
+"And who told you that these gentlemen were at my feet?" she exclaimed,
+with a flash from her fine eyes, that reminded him of moments of pretty
+childish anger, long ago. "If I am changed--and perhaps I am--such
+speeches as that would quite account for it. You accuse me of
+caprice--has any one ever accused you of impertinence?"
+
+"It is quite true, I deserve your rebuke. I have been speaking as freely
+as if we were back again at Arden Court, or Ryndelmere, and ten years of
+our lives were as a mist that rolls away."
+
+"That's a quotation from a song of Tennyson's."
+
+"I don't know what it is from. Being melancholy myself, I say the words
+because they are melancholy."
+
+"Surely you can find some friend to console you in your affliction."
+
+"It is not easy to find a friend at any time, much less when things go
+wrong with us."
+
+"It is very hard if there is really no one to comfort you. Certainly _I_
+sha'n't try anything so hopeless as comforting a person who is resolved
+to be miserable. 'There's such a charm in melancholy, I would not if I
+could, be gay.' There's a quotation for you, as you like
+verses--particularly what I call moping verses."
+
+"Come, Alice! this is not like you; you are not so unkind as your words
+would seem; you are not cruel, Alice--you are cruel to no one else, only
+to me, your old friend."
+
+"I have said nothing cruel," said Miss Alice, looking on the grass
+before her; "cruelty is too sublime a phrase. I don't think I have ever
+experienced cruelty in my life; and I don't think it likely that you
+have; I certainly have never been cruel to any one. I'm a very
+good-natured person, as my birds and squirrel would testify if they
+could."
+
+She laughed.
+
+"I suppose people call that cruel which makes them suffer very much; it
+may be but a light look, or a cold word, but still it may be more than
+years of suffering to another. But I don't think, Alice, you ought to be
+so with me. I think you might remember old times a little more kindly."
+
+"I remember them very kindly--as kindly as you do. We were always very
+good friends, and always, I daresay, shall be. _I_ sha'n't quarrel. But
+I don't like heroics, I think they are so unmeaning. There may be people
+who like them very well and---- There is Richard, I think, and he has
+thrown away his mallet. If his game is over, he will come now, and Lady
+May doesn't want the people to stay late; she is going into town, and I
+stay with her to-night. We are going to the Derby to-morrow."
+
+"I am going also--it was so kind of her!--she asked me to be of her
+party," said Vivian Darnley.
+
+"Richard is coming also; I have never been to the Derby, and I daresay
+we shall be a very pleasant party; I know I like it of all things. Here
+comes Richard--he sees me. Was my uncle David here?"
+
+"No."
+
+"I hardly thought he was, but I saw Grace Maubray, and I fancied he
+might have come with her," she said carelessly.
+
+"Yes, she was here; she came with Lady Tramway. They went away about
+half-an-hour ago."
+
+So Richard joined her, and they walked to the house together, Vivian
+Darnley accompanying them.
+
+"I think I saw you a little spooney to-day, Vivian, didn't I?" said
+Richard Arden, laughing. He remembered what Longcluse once said to him,
+about Vivian's _tendre_ for his sister, and did not choose that Alice
+should suspect it. "Grace Maubray is a very pretty girl."
+
+"She may be that, though it doesn't strike me," began Darnley.
+
+"Oh! come, I'm too old for that sort of disclaimer; and I don't see why
+you should be so modest about it. She is clever and pretty."
+
+"Yes, she is very pretty," said Alice.
+
+"I suppose she is, but you're quite mistaken if you really fancy I
+admire Miss Maubray. I _don't_, I give you my _honour_, I don't," said
+Vivian vehemently.
+
+Richard Arden laughed again, but prudently urged the point no more,
+intending to tell the story that evening as he and Alice drove together
+into town, in the way that best answered his purpose.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXXIII.
+
+THE DERBY.
+
+
+The morning of the Derby day dawned auspiciously. The weather-cocks, the
+sky, and every other prognostic portended a fine cloudless day, and many
+an eye peeped early from bed-room window to read these signs, rejoicing.
+
+"Ascot would have been more in _our_ way," said Lady May, glancing at
+Alice, when the time arrived for taking their places in the carriage.
+"But the time answered, and we shall see a great many people we know
+there. So you must not think I have led you into a very fast
+expedition."
+
+Richard Arden took the reins. The footmen were behind, in charge of
+hampers from Fortnum and Mason's, and inside, opposite to Alice, sat
+Lord Wynderbroke; and Lady May's _vis-à-vis_ was Vivian Darnley. Soon
+they had got into the double stream of carriages of all sorts. There are
+closed carriages with pairs or fours, gigs, hansom cabs fitted with
+gauze curtains, dog-carts, open carriages with hampers lashed to the
+foot-boards, dandy drags, bright and polished, with crests; vans, cabs,
+and indescribable contrivances. There are horses worth a hundred and
+fifty guineas a-piece, and there are others that look as if the knacker
+should have them. There are all sorts of raws, and sand-cracks, and
+broken knees. There are kickers and roarers, and bolters and jibbers,
+such a crush and medley in that densely packed double line, that jogs
+and crushes along you can hardly tell how.
+
+Sometimes one line passes the other, and then sustains a momentary
+check, while the other darts forward; and now and then a panel is
+smashed, with the usual altercation, and dust unspeakable eddying and
+floating everywhere in the sun; all sorts of chaff exchanged, mail-coach
+horns blowing, and general impudence and hilarity; gentlemen with veils
+on, and ladies with light hoods over their bonnets, and all sorts of
+gauzy defences against the dust. The utter novelty of all these sights
+and sounds highly amuses Alice, to whom they are absolutely strange.
+
+"I am so amused," she said, "at the gravity you all seem to take these
+wonderful doings with. I could not have fancied anything like it. Isn't
+that Borrowdale?"
+
+"So it is," said Lady May. "I thought he was in France. He doesn't see
+us, I think."
+
+He did see them, but it was just as he was cracking a personal joke with
+a busman, in which the latter had decidedly the best of it, and he did
+not care to recognise his lady acquaintances at disadvantage.
+
+"What a fright that man is!" said Lord Wynderbroke.
+
+"But his team is the prettiest in England, except Longcluse's," said
+Darnley; "and, by Jove, there's Longcluse's drag!"
+
+"Those are very nice horses," said Lord Wynderbroke looking at
+Longcluse's team, as if he had not heard Darnley's observation. "They
+are worth looking at, Miss Arden."
+
+Longcluse was seated on the box, with a veil on, through which his white
+smile was indistinctly visible.
+
+"And what a fright _he_ is, also! He looks like a picture of Death I
+once saw, with a cloth half over his face; or the Veiled Prophet. By
+Jove, a curious thing that the two most hideous men in England should
+have between them the two prettiest teams on earth!"
+
+Lord Wynderbroke looks at Darnley with raised brows, vaguely. He has
+been talking more than his lordship perhaps thinks he has any business
+to talk, especially to Alice.
+
+"You will be more diverted still when we have got upon the course,"
+interposes Lord Wynderbroke. "The variety of strange people
+there--gipsies, you know, and all that--mountebanks, and
+thimble-riggers, and beggars, and musicians--you'll wonder how such
+hordes could be collected in all England, or where they come from."
+
+"And although they make something of a day like this, how on earth they
+contrive to exist all the other days of the year, when people are sober,
+and minding their own business," added Darnley.
+
+"To me the pleasantest thing about the drive is our finding ourselves in
+the open country. Look out of the window there--trees and
+farm-steads--it is so rural, and such an odd change!" said Lady May.
+
+"And the young corn, I'm glad to see, is looking very well," said Lord
+Wynderbroke, who claimed to be something of an agriculturist.
+
+"And the oddest thing about it is our being surrounded, in the midst of
+all this rural simplicity, with the population of London," threw in
+Vivian Darnley.
+
+"Remember, Miss Arden, our wager," said Lord Wynderbroke; "you have
+backed May Queen."
+
+"May! she should be a cousin of mine," said good Lady May, firing off
+her little pun, which was received very kindly by her audience.
+
+"Ha, ha! I did not think of that; she should certainly be the most
+popular name on the card," said Lord Wynderbroke. "I hope I have not
+made a great mistake, Miss Arden, in betting against so--so auspicious a
+name."
+
+"I sha'n't let you off, though. I'm told I'm very likely to win--isn't
+it so?" she asked Vivian.
+
+"Yes, the odds are in favour of May Queen now; you might make a capital
+hedge."
+
+"You don't know what a hedge is, I daresay, Miss Arden; ladies don't
+always quite understand our turf language," said Lord Wynderbroke, with
+a consideration which he hoped that very forward young man, on whom he
+fancied Miss Arden looked good-naturedly, felt as he ought. "It is
+called a hedge, by betting men, when----" and he expounded the meaning
+of the term.
+
+The road had now become more free, as they approached the course, and
+Dick Arden took advantage of the circumstance to pass the omnibuses, and
+other lumbering vehicles, which he soon left far behind. The grand stand
+now rose in view--and now they were on the course. The first race had
+not yet come off, and young Arden found a good place among the triple
+line of carriages. Off go the horses! Miss Arden is assisted to a
+cushion on the roof; Lord Wynderbroke and Vivian take places beside her.
+The sun is growing rather hot, and the parasol is up. Good-natured Lady
+May is a little too stout for climbing, but won't hear of anyone's
+staying to keep her company. Perhaps when Richard Arden, who is taking a
+walk by the ropes, and wants to see the horses which are showing,
+returns, she may have a little talk with him at the window. In the
+meantime, all the curious groups of figures, and a hundred more, which
+Lord Wynderbroke promised--the monotonous challenges of the fellows with
+games of all sorts, the whine of the beggar for a little penny, the
+guitarring, singing, barrel-organing, and the gipsy inviting Miss Arden
+to try her lucky sixpence--all make a curious and merry Babel about her.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXXIV.
+
+A SHARP COLLOQUY.
+
+
+On foot, near the weighing stand, is a tall, powerful, and clumsy
+fellow, got up gaudily--a fellow with a lowering red face, in loud
+good-humour, very ill-looking. He is now grinning and chuckling with his
+hands in his pockets, and talking with a little Hebrew, young,
+sable-haired, with the sallow tint, great black eyes, and fleshy nose
+that characterise his race. A singularly sullen mouth aids the effect of
+his vivid eyes, in making this young Jew's face ominous.
+
+"Young Dick Harden's 'ere," said Mr. Levi.
+
+"Eh? is he?" said the big man with the red face and pimples, the green
+cut-away coat, gilt buttons, purple neck-tie, yellow waistcoat, white
+cord tights, and top boots.
+
+"Walking down there," said Levi, pointing with his thumb over his
+shoulder. "I shaw him shpeak to a fellow in chocolate and gold livery."
+
+"And an eagle on the button, I know. That's Lady May Penrose's livery,"
+said his companion. "He came down with her, I lay you fifty. And he has
+a nice sister as ever you set eyes on--pretty gal, Mr. Levi--a reg'lar
+little angel," and he giggled after his wont. "If there's a dragful of
+hangels anyvere, she's one of them. I saw her yesterday in one of Lady
+May Penrose's carriages in St. James' Street. Mr. Longcluse is engaged
+to get married to her; you may see them linked arm-in-arm, any day you
+please, walkin' hup and down Hoxford Street. And her brother, Richard
+Harden, is to marry Lady May Penrose. That will be a warm family yet,
+them Hardens, arter all."
+
+"A family with a title, Mr. Ballard, be it never so humble, Sir, like
+'ome shweet 'ome, hash nine livesh in it; they'll be down to the last
+pig, and not the thickness of an old tizzy between them and the
+glue-pot; and while you'd write your name across the back of a cheque,
+all's right again. The title doesh it. You never shaw a title in the
+workus yet, Mr. Ballard, and you'll wait awhile before you 'av a
+hoppertunity of shayin', 'My lord Dooke, I hope your grashe's
+water-gruel is salted to your noble tasht thish morning,' or, 'My noble
+marquishe, I humbly hope you are pleashed with the fit of them
+pepper-and-salts;' and, 'My lord earl, I'm glad to see by the register
+you took a right honourable twisht at the crank thish morning.' No,
+Mishter Ballard, you nor me won't shee that, Shir."
+
+While these gentlemen enjoyed their agreeable banter, and settled the
+fortunes of Richard Arden and Mr. Longcluse, the latter person was
+walking down the course in the direction in which Mr. Levi had seen
+Arden go, in the hope of discovering Lady May's carriage. Longcluse was
+in an odd state of excitement. He had entered into the spirit of the
+carnival. Voices all around were shouting, "Twenty to five on
+Dotheboys;" or, "A hundred to five against Parachute."
+
+"In what?" called Mr. Longcluse to the latter challenge.
+
+"In assassins!" cried a voice from the crowd.
+
+Mr. Longcluse hustled his way into the thick of it.
+
+"Who said that?" he thundered.
+
+No one could say. No one else had heard it. Who cared? He recovered his
+coolness quickly, and made no further fuss about it. People were too
+busy with other things to bother themselves about his questions, or his
+temper. He hurried forward after young Arden, whom he saw at the turn of
+the course a little way on.
+
+"The first race no one cares much about; compared with the great event
+of the day, it is as the farce before the pantomime, or the oyster
+before the feast."
+
+The bells had not yet rung out their warning, and Alice said to
+Vivian,--
+
+"How beautifully that girl with the tambourine danced and sang! I do so
+hope she'll come again; and she is, I think, so perfectly lovely. She is
+so like the picture of La Esmeralda; didn't you think so?"
+
+"Do you really wish to see her again?" said Vivian. "Then if she's to be
+found on earth you shall see her."
+
+He was smiling, but he spoke in the low tone that love is said to employ
+and understand, and his eyes looked softly on her. He was pleased that
+she enjoyed everything so. In a moment he had jumped to the ground, and
+with one smile back at the eager girl he disappeared.
+
+And now the bells were ringing, and the police clearing the course. And
+now the cry, "They're off, they're off!" came rolling down the crowd
+like a hedge-fire. Lord Wynderbroke offered Alice his race-glass, but
+ladies are not good at optical aids, and she prefers her eyes; and the
+Earl constitutes himself her sentinel, and will report all he sees, and
+stands on the roof beside her place, with the glasses to his eyes. And
+now the excitement grows. Beggar-boys, butcher-boys, stable-helps, jump
+up on carriage-wheels unnoticed, and cling to the roof with filthy
+fingers. And now they are in sight, and a wild clamour arises. "Red's
+first!" "No, Blue!" "White leads!" "Pink's first!"
+
+And here they are! White, crimson, pink, black, yellow--the silk jackets
+quivering like pennons in a storm--the jockeys tossing their arms madly
+about, the horses seeming actually to fly; swaying, reeling, whirring,
+the whole thing passes in a beautiful drift of a moment, and is gone!
+
+Lord Wynderbroke is standing on tip-toe, trying to catch a glimpse of
+the caps as they show at the opening nearer the winning-post. Vivian
+Darnley is away in search of La Esmeralda. Miss Arden has seen the first
+race of the day, the first she has ever seen, and is amazed and
+delighted. The intruders who had been clinging to the carriage now jump
+down, and join the crowd that crush on towards the winning-post, or
+break in on the course. But there rises at the point next her a figure
+she little expected to see so near that day. Mr. Longcluse has swung
+himself up, and stands upon the wheel. He is bare-headed, his hat is in
+the hand he clings by. In the other hand he holds up a small glove--a
+lady's glove. His face is very pale. He is not smiling; he looks with an
+expression of pain, on the contrary, and very great respect.
+
+"Miss Arden, will you forgive my venturing to restore this glove, which
+I happened to see you drop as the horses passed?"
+
+She looked at him with something of surprise and fear, and drew back a
+little instead of taking the proffered glove.
+
+"I find I have been too presumptuous," he said gently. "I place it
+there. I see, Miss Arden, I have been maligned. Some one has wronged me
+cruelly. I plead only for a fair chance--for God's sake, give me a
+chance. I don't say hear me now, only say you won't condemn me utterly
+unheard."
+
+He spoke vehemently, but so low that, amid the hubbub of other voices,
+no one but Miss Arden, on whom his eyes were fixed, could hear him.
+
+"I take my leave, Miss Arden, and may God bless you. But I rest in the
+hope that your noble nature will refuse to treat any creature as my
+enemies would have you treat me."
+
+His looks were so sad and even reverential, and his voice, though low,
+so full of agony, that no one could suppose the speaker had the least
+idea of forcing his presence upon the lady a moment longer than sufficed
+to ascertain that it was not welcome. He was about to step to the
+ground, when he saw Richard Arden striding rapidly up with a very angry
+countenance. Then and there seemed likely to occur what the newspapers
+term an ungentlemanlike fracas. Richard Arden caught him, and pulled him
+roughly to the ground. Mr. Longcluse staggered back a step or two, and
+recovered himself. His pale face glared wickedly, for a moment or two,
+on the flushed and haughty young man; his arm was a little raised, and
+his fist clenched. I daresay it was just the turn of a die, at that
+moment, whether he struck him or not.
+
+These two bosom friends, and sworn brothers, of a week or two ago, were
+confronted now with strange looks, and in threatening attitude. How
+frail a thing is the worldly man's friendship, hanging on flatteries and
+community of interest! A word or two of truth, and a conflict or even a
+divergence of interest, and where is the liking, the friendship, the
+intimacy?
+
+A sudden change marked the face of Mr. Longcluse. The vivid fires that
+gleamed for a moment from his eyes sunk in their dark sockets, the
+intense look changed to one of sullen gloom. He beckoned, and said
+coldly, "Please follow me;" and then turned and walked, at a leisurely
+pace, a little way inward from the course.
+
+Richard Arden, perhaps, felt that had he hesitated it would have
+reflected on his courage. He therefore disregarded the pride that would
+have scorned even a seeming compliance with that rather haughty summons,
+and he followed him with something of the odd dreamy feeling which men
+experience when they are stepping, consciously, into a risk of life. He
+thought that Mr. Longcluse was inviting the interview for the purpose of
+arranging the preliminaries of who were to act as their "friends," and
+where each gentleman was to be heard of that evening. He followed, with
+oddly conflicting feelings, to a place in the rear of some tents. Here
+was a sort of booth. Two doors admitted to it--one to the longer room,
+where was whirling that roulette round which men who, like Richard
+Arden, could not deny themselves, even on the meanest scale, the
+excitement of chance gain and loss, were betting and bawling. Into the
+smaller room of plank, which was now empty, they stepped.
+
+"Now, Sir, you'll be so good as to observe that you have taken upon you
+a rather serious responsibility in laying your hand on me," said
+Longcluse, in a very low tone, coldly and gently. "In France, such a
+profanation would be followed by an exchange of shots, and here, under
+other circumstances, I should exact the same chance of retaliation. I
+mean to deal differently--quite differently. I have fought too many
+duels, as you know, to be the least apprehensive of being misunderstood
+or my courage questioned. For your sister's sake, not yours, I take a
+peculiar course with you. I offer you an alternative; you may have
+reconciliation--here is my hand" (he extended it)--"or you may abide the
+other consequence, at which I sha'n't hint, in pretty near futurity. You
+don't accept my hand?"
+
+"No, Sir," said Arden haughtily--more than haughtily, insolently. "I can
+have no desire to renew an acquaintance with you. I sha'n't do that.
+I'll fight you, if you like it. I'll go to Boulogne, or wherever you
+like, and we can have our shot, Sir, whenever you please."
+
+"No, if you please--not so fast. You decline my friendship--that offer
+is over," said Longcluse, lowering his hand resolutely. "I am not going
+to shoot you--I have not the least notion of that. I shall take, let me
+see, a different course with you, and I shall obtain on reflection your
+entire concurrence with the hopes I have no idea of relinquishing. You
+will probably understand me pretty clearly by-and-by."
+
+Richard Arden was angry; he was puzzled; he wished to speak, but could
+not light quickly on a suitable answer. Longcluse stood for some
+seconds, smiling his pale sinister smile upon him, and then turned on
+his heel, and walked quietly out upon the grass, and disappeared in the
+crowd.
+
+Richard Arden was irresolute. He threw open the door, and entered the
+roulette-room--looked round on all the strange faces, that did not mind
+him, or seem to see that he was there--then, with a sudden change of
+mind, he retraced his steps more quickly, and followed Longcluse through
+the other door. But there he could not trace him. He had quite vanished.
+Perhaps, next morning, he was glad that he had missed him, and had been
+compelled to "sleep upon it."
+
+Now and then, with a sense of disagreeable uncertainty, recurred to his
+mind the mysterious intimation, or rather menace, with which he had
+taken his departure. It was not, however, his business to look up
+Longcluse. He had himself seemed to intimate that the balance of insult
+was the other way. If "satisfaction," in the slang of the duellist, was
+to be looked for, the initiative devolved undoubtedly upon Longcluse.
+
+Alice was so placed on the carriage, that she did not see what passed
+immediately beside it, between Longcluse and her brother. Still, the
+appearance of this man, and his having accosted her, had agitated her a
+good deal, and for some hours the unpleasant effect of the little scene
+spoiled her enjoyment of this day of wonders.
+
+Very gaily, notwithstanding, the party returned--except, perhaps, one
+person who had reason to remember that day.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXXV.
+
+DINNER AT MORTLAKE.
+
+
+Lady May's party from the Derby dined together late, that evening, at
+Mortlake. Lord Wynderbroke, of course, was included. He was very happy,
+and extremely agreeable. When Alice, and Lady May, who was to stay that
+night at Mortlake, and Miss Maubray, who had come with Uncle David, took
+their departure for the drawing-room, the four gentlemen who remained
+over their claret drew more together, and chatted at their ease.
+
+Lord Wynderbroke was in high spirits. He admired Alice more than ever.
+He admired everything. A faint rumour had got about that something was
+not very unlikely to be. It did not displease him. He had been looking
+at diamonds the day before; he was not vexed when that amusing wag,
+Pokely, who had surprised him in the act, asked him that day, on the
+Downs, some sly questions on the subject, with an arch glance at
+beautiful Miss Arden. Lord Wynderbroke pooh-pooh'd this impertinence
+very radiantly. And now this happy peer, pleased with himself, pleased
+with everybody, with the flush of a complacent elation on his thin
+cheeks, was simpering and chatting most agreeably, and commending
+everything to which his attention was drawn.
+
+In very marked contrast with this happy man was Richard Arden, who
+talked but little, was absent, utterly out of spirits, and smiled with a
+palpable effort when he did smile. His conversation with Lady May showed
+the same uncomfortable peculiarities. It was intermittent and
+bewildered. It saddened the good lady. Was he ill? or in some
+difficulty?
+
+Now that she had withdrawn, Richard Arden seemed less attentive to Lord
+Wynderbroke than to his uncle. In so far as a wight in his melancholy
+mood could do so, he seemed to have laid himself out to please his uncle
+in those small ways where, in such situations, an anxiety to please can
+show itself. Once his father's voice had roused him with the intimation,
+"Richard, Lord Wynderbroke is speaking to you;" and he saw a very urbane
+smile on his thin lips, and encountered a very formidable glare from his
+dark eyes. The only subject on which Richard Arden at all brightened up
+was the defeat of the favourite. Lord Wynderbroke remarked,--
+
+"It seems to have caused a good deal of observation. I saw Hounsley and
+Crackham, and they shake their heads at it a good deal, and----"
+
+He paused, thinking that Richard Arden was going to interpose something,
+but nothing followed, and he continued,--
+
+"And Lord Shillingsworth, he's very well up in all these things, and he
+seems to think it is a very suspicious affair; and old Sir Thomas
+Fetlock, who should have known better, has been hit very hard, and says
+he'll have it before the Jockey Club."
+
+"I don't mind Sir Thomas, he blusters and makes a noise about
+everything," said Richard Arden; "but it was quite palpable, when the
+horse showed, he wasn't fit to run. I don't suppose Sir Thomas will do
+it, but it certainly will be done. I know a dozen men who will sell
+their horses, if it isn't done. I don't see how any man can take payment
+of the odds on Dotheboys--I don't, I assure you--till the affair is
+cleared up: _gentlemen_, of course, I mean; the other people would like
+the money all the better if it came to them by a swindle. But it
+certainly can't rest where it is."
+
+No one disputing this, and none of the other gentlemen being authorities
+of any value upon turf matters, the subject dropped, and others came on,
+and Richard Arden was silent again. Lord Wynderbroke, who was to pass
+two or three days at Mortlake, and who had made up his mind that he was
+to leave that interesting place a _promesso sposo_, was restless, and
+longed to escape to the drawing-room. So the sitting over the wine was
+not very long.
+
+Richard Arden made an effort, in the drawing-room, to retrieve his
+character with Lady May and Miss Maubray, who had been rather puzzled by
+his hang-dog looks and flagging conversation.
+
+"There are times, Lady May," said he, placing himself on the sofa beside
+her, "when one loses all faith in the future--when everything goes
+wrong, and happiness becomes incredible. Then one's wisest course seems
+to be, to take off one's hat to the good people in this planet, and go
+off to another."
+
+"Only that I know you so well," said Lady May, "I should tell
+Reginald--I mean your father--what you say; and I think your uncle,
+there, is a magistrate for the county of Middlesex, and could commit
+you, couldn't he? for any such foolish speech. Did you observe
+to-day--you saw him, of course--how miserably ill poor Pindledykes is
+looking? I don't think, really, he'll be alive in six months."
+
+"Don't throw away your compassion, dear Lady May. Pindledykes has always
+looked dying as long as I can remember, and on his last legs; but those
+last legs carry some fellows a long way, and I'm very sure he'll outlive
+me."
+
+"And what pleasure can a person so very ill as he looks take in going to
+places like that?"
+
+"The pleasure of winning other people's money," laughed Arden sourly.
+"Pindledykes knows very well what he's about. He turns his time to very
+good account, and wastes very little of it, I assure you, in pitying
+other people's misfortunes."
+
+"I'm glad to see that you and Richard are on pleasanter terms," said
+David Arden to his brother, as he sipped his tea beside him.
+
+"Egad! we are _not_, though. I hate him worse than ever. Would you
+oblige me by putting a bit of wood on the fire? I told you how he has
+treated me. I wonder, David, how the devil you could suppose we were on
+pleasanter terms!"
+
+Sir Reginald was seated with his crutch-handled stick beside him, and an
+easy fur slipper on his gouty foot, which rested on a stool, and was a
+great deal better. He leaned back in a cushioned arm-chair, and his
+fierce prominent eyes glanced across the room, in the direction of his
+son, with a flash like a scimitar's.
+
+"There's no good, you know, David, in exposing one's ulcers to
+strangers--there's no use in plaguing one's guests with family
+quarrels."
+
+"Upon my word, you disguised this one admirably, for I mistook you for
+two people on tolerably friendly terms."
+
+"I don't want to plague Wynderbroke about the puppy; there is no need to
+mention that he has made so much unhappiness. _You_ won't, neither will
+I."
+
+David nodded.
+
+"Something has gone wrong with him," said David Arden, "and I thought
+you might possibly know."
+
+"Not I."
+
+"I think he has lost money on the races to-day," said David.
+
+"I hope to Heaven he has! I'm glad of it. It will do me good; let him
+settle it out of his blackguard _post-obit_," snarled Sir Reginald, and
+ground his teeth.
+
+"If he has been gambling, he has disappointed me. He can, however,
+disappoint me but once. I had better thoughts of him."
+
+So said David Arden, with displeasure in his frank and manly face.
+
+"Playing? Of course he plays, and of course he's been making a
+blundering book for the Derby. He likes the hazard-table and the turf,
+he likes play, and he likes making books; and what he likes he does. He
+always did. I'm rather pleased you have been trying to manage him.
+You'll find him a charming person, and you'll understand what I have had
+to combat with. He'll never do any good; he is so utterly graceless."
+
+"I see my father looking at me, and I know what he means," said Richard
+Arden, with a smile, to Lady May; "I'm to go and talk to Miss Maubray.
+He wishes to please Uncle David, and Miss Maubray must be talked to; and
+I see that Uncle David envies me my little momentary happiness, and
+meditates taking that empty chair beside you. You'll see whether I am
+right. By Jove! here he comes; I sha'n't be turned away so----"
+
+"Oh, but, really, Miss Maubray has been quite alone," urged poor Lady
+May, very much pleased; "and you _must_, to please _me_; I'm sure you
+will."
+
+Instantly he arose.
+
+"I don't know whether that speech is most kind or _un_-kind; you banish
+me, but in language so flattering to my loyalty, that I don't know
+whether to be pleased or pained. Of course I obey." He said these
+parting words in a very low tone, and had hardly ended them, when David
+Arden took the vacant chair beside the good lady, and began to talk with
+her.
+
+Once or twice his eyes wandered to Richard Arden, who was by this time
+talking with returning animation to Grace Maubray, and the look was not
+cheerful. The young lady, however, was soon interested, and her
+good-humour was clever and exhilarating. I think that she a little
+admired this handsome and rather clever young man, and who can tell what
+such a fancy may grow to?
+
+That night, as Richard Arden bid him good-bye, his uncle said, coldly
+enough,--
+
+"By-the-bye, Richard, would you mind looking in upon me to-morrow, at
+five in the afternoon? I shall have a word to say to you."
+
+So the appointment was made, and Richard entered his cab, and drove into
+town dismally.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXXVI.
+
+MR. LONGCLUSE SEES A LADY'S NOTE.
+
+
+Next day Mr. Longcluse paid an early visit at Uncle David's house, and
+saw Miss Maubray in the drawing-room. The transition from that young
+lady's former, to her new life, was not less dazzling than that of the
+heroine of an Arabian tale, who is transported by friendly genii, while
+she sleeps, from a prison to the palace of a sultan. Uncle David did not
+care for finery; no man's tastes could be simpler and more camp-like.
+But these drawing-rooms were so splendid, so elegant and refined, and
+yet so gorgeous in effect, that you would have fancied that he had
+thought of nothing else all his life but china, marqueterie, buhl, Louis
+Quatorze clocks, mirrors, pale-green and gold cabriole chairs, bronzes,
+pictures, and all the textile splendours, the names of which I know not,
+that make floors and windows magnificent.
+
+The feminine nature, facile and self-adapting, had at once accommodated
+itself to the dominion over all this, and all that attended it. And Miss
+Maubray being a lady, a girl who had, in her troubled life, been much
+among high-bred people--her father a gentle, fashionable, broken-down
+man, and her mother a very elegant and charming woman--there was no
+contrast, in look, air, or conversation, to mark that all this was new
+to her: on the contrary, she became it extremely.
+
+The young lady was sitting at the piano when Longcluse came in, and to
+the expiring vibration of the chord at which she was interrupted she
+rose, with that light, floating ascent which is so pretty, and gave him
+her hand, and welcomed him with a very bright smile. She thought he was
+a likely person to be able to throw some light upon two rumours which
+interested her.
+
+"How do you contrive to keep your rooms so deliciously cool? The blinds
+are down and the windows open, but that alone won't do, for I have just
+left a drawing-room that is very nearly insupportable; yours must be the
+work of some of those pretty sylphs that poets place in attendance upon
+their heroines. How fearfully hot yesterday was! You did not go to the
+Derby with Lady May's party, I believe."
+
+He watched her clever face, to discover whether she had heard of the
+scene between him and Richard Arden--"I don't think she has."
+
+"No," she said, "my guardian, Mr. Arden, took me there instead. On
+second thoughts, I feared I should very likely be in the way. One is
+always _de trop_ where there is so much love-making; and I am a very bad
+gooseberry."
+
+"A very dangerous one, I should fancy. And who are all these lovers?"
+
+"Oh, really, they are so many, it is not easy to reckon them up. Alice
+Arden, for instance, had _two_ lovers--Lord Wynderbroke and Vivian
+Darnley."
+
+"What, two lovers charged upon one lady? Is not that false heraldry? And
+does she really care for that young fellow, Darnley?"
+
+"I'm told she really is deeply attached to him. But that does not
+prevent her accepting Lord Wynderbroke. He has spoken, and been
+accepted. Old Sir Reginald told my guardian his brother, last night, and
+_he_ told me in the carriage, as we drove home. I wonder how soon it
+will be. I should rather like to be one of her bridesmaids. Perhaps she
+will ask me."
+
+Mr. Longcluse felt giddy and stunned; but he said, quite gaily--
+
+"If she wishes to be suitably attended, she certainly will. But young
+ladies generally prefer a foil to a rival, even when so very beautiful
+as she is."
+
+"And there was Vivian Darnley at one side, I'm told, whispering all
+kinds of sweet things, and poor old Wynderbroke at the other, with his
+glasses to his eyes, reporting all he saw. Only think! What a goose the
+old creature must have looked!" And the young lady laughed merrily. "But
+can you tell me about the other affair?" she asked.
+
+"What is it?"
+
+"Oh! you know, of course--Lady May and Richard Arden; is it true that it
+was all settled the day before yesterday, at that kettle-drum?"
+
+"There again my information is quite behind yours. I did not hear a word
+of it."
+
+"But you must have seen how very much in love they both are. Poor young
+man! I really think it would have broken his heart if she had been
+cruel, particularly if it is true that he lost so much as they say at
+the Derby yesterday. I suppose he did. Do you know?"
+
+"I'm sorry to say," said Mr. Longcluse, "I'm afraid it's only too true.
+I don't know exactly how much it is, but I believe it is more than he
+can, at present, very well bear. A mad thing for him to do. I'm really
+sorry, although he has chosen to quarrel with me most unreasonably."
+
+"Oh? I wasn't aware. I fancied you would have heard all from him."
+
+"No, not a word--no."
+
+"Lady May was talking to me at Raleigh Court, the day we were there--she
+can talk of no one else, poor old thing!--and she said something had
+happened to make him and his sister very angry. She would not say what.
+She only said, 'You know how very proud they are, and I really think,'
+she said, 'they ought to have been very much pleased, for everything, I
+think, was most advantageous.' And from this I conclude there must have
+been a proposal for Alice; I shall ask her when I see her."
+
+"Yes, I daresay they are proud. Richard Arden told me so. He said that
+his family were always considered proud. He was laughing, of course, but
+he meant it."
+
+"He's proud of being proud, I daresay. I thought you would be likely to
+know whether all they say is true. It would be a great pity he should be
+ruined; but, you know, if all the rest is true, there are resources."
+
+Longcluse laughed.
+
+"He has always been very particular and a little tender in that quarter;
+very sweet upon Lady May, I thought," said he.
+
+"Oh, very much gone, poor thing!" said Grace Maubray. "I think my
+guardian will have heard all about it. He was very angry, once or twice,
+with Richard Arden about his losing so much money at play. I believe he
+has lost a great deal at different times."
+
+"A great many people do lose money so. For the sake of excitement, they
+incur losses, and risk even their utter ruin."
+
+"How foolish!" exclaimed Miss Maubray. "Have you heard anything more
+about that affair of Lady Mary Playfair and Captain Mayfair? He is now,
+by the death of his cousin, quite sure of the title, they say."
+
+"Yes it must come to him. His uncle has got something wrong with his
+leg, a fracture that never united quite; it is an old hurt, and I'm told
+he is quite breaking up now. He is at Buxton, and going on to Vichy, if
+he lives, poor man."
+
+"Oh, then, there can be no difficulty now."
+
+"No, I heard yesterday it is all settled."
+
+"And what does Caroline Chambray say to that?"
+
+And so on they chatted, till his call was ended, and Mr. Longcluse
+walked down the steps with his head pretty busy.
+
+At the corner of a street he took a cab; and as he drove to Lady May's,
+those fragments of his short talk with Grace Maubray that most
+interested him were tumbling over and over in his mind. "So they are
+angry, very angry; and very proud and haughty people. I had no business
+dreaming of an alliance with Mr. Richard Arden. Angry, he may be--he may
+affect to be--but I don't believe she is. And proud, is he? Proud of her
+he might be, but what else has he to boast of? Proud and angry--ha, ha!
+Angry and proud. We shall see. Such people sometimes grow suddenly mild
+and meek. And she has accepted Lord Wynderbroke. I doubt it. Miss
+Maubray, you are such a good-natured girl that, if you suspected the
+torture your story inflicted, you would invent it, rather than spare a
+fellow-mortal that pang."
+
+In this we know he was a little unjust.
+
+"Well, Miss Arden, I understand your brother; I shall soon understand
+_you_. At present I hesitate. Alas! must I place you, too, in the
+schedule of my lost friends? Is it come to this?--
+
+    'Once I held thee dear as pearl,
+     Now I do abhor thee.'"
+
+Mr. Longcluse's chin rests on his breast as, with a faint smile, he thus
+ruminates.
+
+The cab stops. The light frown that had contracted his eyebrows
+disappears, he glances quickly up at the drawing-room windows, mounts
+the steps, and knocks at the hall door.
+
+"Is Lady May Penrose at home?" he asked.
+
+"I'll inquire, Sir."
+
+Was it fancy, or was there in his reception something a little unusual,
+and ominous of exclusion?
+
+He was, notwithstanding, shown up-stairs. Mr. Longcluse enters the
+drawing-room: Lady May will see him in a few minutes. He is alone. At
+the further end of this room is a smaller one, furnished like the
+drawing-room, the same curtains, carpet, and style, but much more minute
+and elaborate in ornamentation--an extremely pretty boudoir. He just
+peeps in. No, no one there. Then slowly he saunters into the other
+drawing-room, picks up a book, lays it down, and looks round. Quite
+solitary is this room also. His countenance changes a little. With a
+swift, noiseless step, he returns to the room he first entered. There is
+a little marqueterie table, to which he directs his steps, just behind
+the door from the staircase, under the pretty old buhl clock that ticks
+so merrily with its old wheels and lever, exciting the reverential
+curiosity of Monsieur Racine, who keeps it in order, and comments on its
+antique works with a mysterious smile every time he comes, to any one
+who will listen to him. The door is a little bit open. All the better,
+Mr. Longcluse will hear any step that approaches. On this little table
+lies an open note, hastily thrown there, and the pretty handwriting he
+has recognised. He knows it is Alice Arden's. Without the slightest
+scruple, this odd gentleman takes it up and reads a bit, and looks
+toward the door; reads a little more, and looks again, and so on to the
+end.
+
+On the principle that listeners seldom hear good of themselves, Mr.
+Longcluse's cautious perusal of another person's letter did not tell him
+a pleasant tale.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXXVII.
+
+WHAT ALICE COULD SAY.
+
+
+The letter which Mr. Longcluse held before his eyes was destined to
+throw a strong light upon the character of Alice Arden's feelings
+respecting himself. After a few lines, it went on to say:--"And,
+darling, about going to you this evening, I hardly know what to say, or,
+I mean, I hardly know how to say it. Mr. Longcluse, you know, may come
+in at any moment, and I have quite made up my mind that I cannot know
+him. I told you all about the incredible scene in the garden at
+Mortlake, and I showed you the very cool letter with which he saw fit to
+follow it--and yesterday the scene at the races, by which he contrived
+to make everything so uncomfortable--so, my dear creature, I mean to be
+cruel, and cut him. I am quite serious. He has not an idea how to behave
+himself; and the only way to repair the folly of having made the
+acquaintance of such an ill-bred person is, as I said, to cut him--you
+must not be angry--and Richard thinks exactly as I do. So, as I long to
+see you, and, in fact, can't live away from you very long, we must
+contrive some way of meeting now and then, without the risk of being
+disturbed by him. In the meantime, you must come more to Mortlake. It is
+too bad that an impertinent, conceited man should have caused me all
+this very real vexation."
+
+There was but little more, and it did not refer to the only subject that
+interested Longcluse just then. He would have liked to read it through
+once more, but he thought he heard a step. He let it fall where he had
+found it, and walked to the window. Perhaps, if he had read it again, it
+would have lost some of the force which a first impression gives to
+sentences so terrible; as it was, they glared upon his retina, through
+the same exaggerating medium through which his excited imagination and
+feelings had scanned them at first.
+
+Lady May entered, and Mr. Longcluse paid his respects, just as usual.
+You would not have supposed that anything had occurred to ruffle him.
+Lady May was just as affable as usual, but very much graver. She seemed
+to have something on her mind, and not to know how to begin.
+
+At length, after some little conversation, which flagged once or twice--
+
+"I have been thinking, Mr. Longcluse, I must have appeared very stupid,"
+says Lady May. "I did not ask you to be one of our party to the Derby:
+and I think it is always best to be quite frank, and I know you like it
+best. I'm afraid there has been some little misunderstanding. I hope in
+a short time it will be all got over, and everything quite pleasant
+again. But some of our friends--you, no doubt, know more about it than I
+do, for I must confess, I don't very well understand it--are vexed at
+something that has occurred, and----"
+
+Poor Lady May was obviously struggling with the difficulties of her
+explanation, and Mr. Longcluse relieved her.
+
+"Pray, dear Lady May, not a word more; you have always been so kind to
+me. Miss Arden and her brother choose to visit me with displeasure. I
+have nothing to reproach myself with, except with having misapprehended
+the terms on which Miss Arden is pleased to place me. She may however,
+be very sure that I sha'n't disturb her happy evenings here, or anywhere
+assume my former friendly privileges."
+
+"But Mr. Longcluse, I'm not to lose your acquaintance," said kindly Lady
+May, who was disposed to take an indulgent and even a romantic view of
+Mr. Longcluse's extravagances. "Perhaps it may be better to avoid a risk
+of meeting, under present circumstances; and, therefore, when I'm quite
+sure that no such awkwardness can occur, I can easily send you a line,
+and you will come if you can. You will do just as it happens to answer
+you best at the time."
+
+"It is extremely kind of you, Lady May. My evenings here have been so
+very happy that the idea of losing them altogether would make me more
+melancholy than I can tell."
+
+"Oh, no, I could not consent to lose you, Mr. Longcluse, and I'm sure
+this little quarrel can't last very long. Where people are amiable and
+friendly, there may be a misunderstanding, but there can't be a real
+quarrel, I maintain."
+
+With this little speech the interview closed, and the gentleman took a
+very friendly leave.
+
+Mr. Longcluse was in trouble. Blows had fallen rapidly upon him of late.
+But, as light is polarised by encountering certain incidents of
+reflection and refraction, grief entering his mind changed its
+character.
+
+The only articles of expense in which Mr. Longcluse indulged--and even
+in those his indulgence was very moderate--were horses. He was something
+of a judge of horses, and had that tendency to form friendships and
+intimacies with them which is proper to some minds. One of these he
+mounted, and rode away into the country, unattended. He took a long
+ride, at first at a tolerably hard pace. He chose the loneliest roads he
+could find. His exercise brought him no appetite; the interesting hour
+of dinner passed unimproved. The horse was tired now. Longcluse was
+slowly returning, and looking listlessly to his right, he thus
+soliloquised:--
+
+"Alone again. Not a soul in human shape to disclose my wounds to, not a
+soul. This is the way men go mad. He knows too well the torture he
+consigns me to. How often has my hand helped him out of the penalties of
+the dice-box and betting-book! How wildly have I committed myself to
+him!--how madly have I trusted him! How plausibly has he promised. The
+confounded miscreant! Has he good-nature, gratitude, justice, honour?
+Not a particle. He has betrayed me, slandered me fatally, where only on
+earth I dreaded slander, and he knew it; and he has ruined the only good
+hope I had on earth. He has launched it: sharp and heavy is the curse.
+Wait: it shall find him out. And _she_! I did not think Alice Arden
+could have written that letter. My eyes are opened. Well, she has
+refused to hear my good angel; the other may speak differently."
+
+He was riding along a narrow old road, with palings, and quaint old
+hedgerows, and now and then an old-fashioned brick house, staid and
+comfortable, with a cluster of lofty timber embowering it, and chimney
+smoke curling cosily over the foliage; and as he rode along, sometimes a
+window, with very thick white sashes, and a multitude of very small
+panes, sometimes the summit of a gable appeared. The lowing of unseen
+cows was heard over the fields, and the whistle of the birds in the
+hedges; and behind spread the cloudy sky of sunset, showing a peaceful
+old-world scene, in which Izaak Walton's milkmaid might have set down
+her pail, and sung her pretty song.
+
+Not another footfall was heard but the clink of his own horse's hoofs
+along the narrow road; and, as he looked westward, the flush of the sky
+threw an odd sort of fire-light over his death-pale features.
+
+"Time will unroll his book," said Longcluse, dreamily, as he rode
+onward, with a loose bridle on his horse's neck, "and my fingers will
+trace a name or two on the pages that are passing. That sunset, that
+sky--how grand, and glorious, and serene--the same always. Charlemagne
+saw it, and the Cæsars saw it, and the Pharaohs saw it, and we see it
+to-day. Is it worth while troubling ourselves here? How grand and quiet
+nature is, and how beautifully imperturbable! Why not we, who last so
+short a time--why not drift on with it, and take the blows that come,
+and suffer and enjoy the facts of life, and leave its dreadful dreams
+untried? Of all the follies we engage in, what more hollow than
+revenge--vainer than wealth?"
+
+Mr. Longcluse was preaching to himself, with the usual success of
+preachers. He knew himself what his harangue was driving at, although it
+borrowed the vagueness of the sky he was looking on. He fancied that he
+was discussing something with himself, which, nevertheless, was
+settled--so fixed, indeed, that nothing had power to alter it.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXXVIII.
+
+GENTLEMEN IN TROUBLE.
+
+
+Mr. Longcluse had now reached a turn in the road, at which stands an old
+house that recedes a little way and has four poplars growing in front of
+it, two at each side of the door. There are mouldy walls, and gardens,
+fruit and vegetables, in the rear, and in one wing of the house the
+proprietor is licenced to sell beer and other refreshing drinks. This
+quaint greengrocery and pot-house was not flourishing, I conjecture, for
+a cab was at the door, and Mr. Goldshed, the eminent Hebrew, on the
+steps, apparently on the point of leaving.
+
+He is a short, square man, a little round shouldered. He is very bald,
+with coarse, black hair, that might not unsuitably stuff a chair. His
+nose is big and drooping, his lips large and moist. He wears a black
+satin waistcoat, thrust up into wrinkles by his habit of stuffing his
+short hands, bedizened with rings, into his trousers pockets. He has on
+a peculiar low-crowned hat. He is smoking a cigar, and talking over his
+shoulder, at intervals, in brief sentences that have a harsh, brazen
+ring, and are charged with scoff and menace. No game is too small for
+Mr. Goldshed's pursuit. He ought to have made two hundred pounds of this
+little venture. He has not lost, it is true; but, when all is squared,
+he'll not have made a shilling, and that for a Jew, you know, is very
+hard to bear.
+
+In the midst of this intermittent snarl, the large, dark eyes of this
+man lighted on Mr. Longcluse, and he arrested the sentence that was
+about to fly over his shoulder, in the disconsolate faces of the broken
+little family in the passage. A smile suddenly beamed all over his dusky
+features, his airs of lordship quite forsook him, and he lifted his hat
+to the great man with a cringing salutation. The weaker spirit was
+overawed by the more potent. It was the catape doing homage to
+Mephistopheles, in the witch's chamber.
+
+He shuffled out upon the road, with a lazy smile, lifting his hat again,
+and very deferentially greeted "Mishter Longclooshe." He had thrown away
+his exhausted cigar, and the red sun glittered in sparkles on the chains
+and jewelry that were looped across his wrinkled black satin waistcoat.
+
+"How d'ye do, Mr. Goldshed? Anything particular to say to me?"
+
+"Nothing, no, Mr. Longclooshe. I sposhe you heard of that dip in the
+Honduras?"
+
+"They'll get over it, but we sha'n't see them so high again soon. Have
+you that cab all to yourself, Mr. Goldshed?"
+
+"No, Shir, my partner'sh with me. He'll be out in a minute; he'sh only
+puttin' a chap on to make out an inventory."
+
+"Well, I don't want him. Would you mind walking down the road here, a
+couple of hundred steps or so? I have a word for you. Your partner can
+overtake you in the cab."
+
+"Shertainly, Mr. Longclooshe, shertainly, Shir."
+
+And he halloed to the cabman to tell the "zhentleman" who was coming out
+to overtake him in the cab on the road to town.
+
+This settled, Mr. Longcluse, walking his horse along the road, and his
+City acquaintance by his side, slowly made their way towards the City,
+casting long shadows over the low fence into the field at their left;
+and Mr. Goldshed's stumpy legs were projected across the road in such
+slender proportions that he felt for a moment rather slight and elegant,
+and was unusually disgusted, when he glanced down upon the substance of
+those shadows, at the unnecessarily clumsy style in which Messrs. Shears
+and Goslin had cut out his brown trousers.
+
+Mr. Longcluse had a good deal to say when they got on a little. Being
+earnest, he stopped his horse; and Mr. Goldshed, forgetting his
+reverence in his absorption, placed his broad hand on the horse's
+shoulder, as he looked up into Mr. Longcluse's face, and now and then
+nodded, or grunted a "Surely." It was not until the shadows had grown
+perceptibly longer, until Mr. Longcluse's hat had stolen away to the
+gilded stem of the old ash-tree that was in perspective to their left,
+and until Mr. Goldshed's legs had grown so taper and elegant as to
+amount to the spindle, that the talk ended, and Mr. Longcluse, who was a
+little shy of being seen in such company, bid him good evening, and rode
+away townward at a brisk trot.
+
+That morning Richard Arden looked as if he had got up after a month's
+fever. His dinner had been a pretence, and his breakfast was a sham. His
+luck, as he termed it, had got him at last pretty well into a corner.
+The placing of the horses was a dreadful record of moral impossibilities
+accomplished against him. Five minutes before the start he could have
+sold his book for three thousand pounds; five minutes after it no one
+would have accepted fifteen thousand to take it off his hands. The
+shock, at first a confusion, had grown in the night into ghastly order.
+It was all, in the terms of the good old simile, "as plain as a
+pike-staff." He simply could not pay. He might sell everything he
+possessed, and pay about ten shillings in the pound, and then work his
+passage to another country, and become an Australian drayman, or a New
+Orleans billiard-marker.
+
+But not pay his bets! And how could he? Ten shillings in the pound? Not
+five. He forgot how far he was already involved. What _was_ to become of
+him. Breakfast he could eat none. He drank a cup of tea, but his tremors
+grew worse. He tried claret, but that, too, was chilly comfort. He was
+driven to an experiment he had never ventured before. He had a "nip,"
+and another, and with this Dutch courage rallied a little, and was able
+to talk to his friend and admirer, Vandeleur, who had made a miniature
+book after the pattern of Dick Arden's and had lost some hundreds, which
+he did not know how to pay; and who was, in his degree, as miserable as
+his chief; for is it not established that--
+
+    "The poor beetle, that we tread upon,
+     In corporal sufferance feels a pang as great
+     As when a giant dies"?
+
+Young Vandeleur, with light silken hair, and innocent blue eyes, found
+his paragon the picture of "grim-visaged, comfortless despair," drumming
+a tattoo on the window, in slippers and dressing-gown, without a collar
+to his shirt.
+
+"You lost, of course," said Richard savagely; "you followed my lead. Any
+fellow that does is sure to lose."
+
+"Yes," answered Vandeleur, "I did, heavily; and, I give you my honour, I
+believe I'm ruined."
+
+"How much?"
+
+"Two hundred and forty pounds!"
+
+"_Ruined!_ What nonsense! Who are you? or what the devil are you making
+such a row about? Two hundred and forty! How can you be such an ass?
+Don't you know it's nothing?"
+
+"Nothing! By Jove! I wish I could see it," said poor Van; "everything's
+something to any one, when there's nothing to pay it with. I'm not like
+you, you know; I'm awfully poor. I have just a hundred and twenty pounds
+from my office, and forty my aunt gives me, and ninety I get from home,
+and, upon my honour, that's all; and I owed just a hundred pounds to
+some fellows that were growing impertinent. My tailor is sixty-four, and
+the rest are trifling, but they were the most impertinent, and I was so
+sure of this unfortunate thing that I told them I--really did--to call
+next week; and now I suppose it's all up with me, I may as well make a
+bolt of it. Instead of having any money to pay them, I'm two hundred and
+forty pounds worse than ever. I don't know what on earth to do. Upon my
+honour, I haven't an idea."
+
+"I wish we could exchange our accounts," said Richard grimly: "I wish
+you owed my sixteen thousand. I think you'd sink through the earth. I
+think you'd call for a pistol, and blow"--(he was going to say, "your
+brains out," but he would not pay him that compliment)--"blow your head
+off."
+
+So it was the old case--"_Enter Tilburina, mad, in white satin; enter
+her maid, mad, in white linen._"
+
+And Richard Arden continued--
+
+"What's your aunt good for? You _know_ she will pay that; don't let me
+hear a word more about it."
+
+"And your uncle will pay yours, won't he?" said Van, with an innocent
+gaze of his azure eyes.
+
+"My uncle has paid some trifles before, but this is too big a thing.
+He's tired of me and my cursed misfortunes, and he's not likely to apply
+any of his overgrown wealth in relieving a poor tortured beggar like me.
+I'm simply ruined."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXXIX.
+
+BETWEEN FRIENDS.
+
+
+Van was looking ruefully out of the window, down upon the deserted
+pavement opposite. At length he said,--
+
+"And why don't you give your luck a chance?"
+
+"Whenever I give it a chance it hits me so devilish hard," replied
+Richard Arden.
+
+"But I mean at play to retrieve," said Van.
+
+"So do I. So I did, last night, and lost another thousand. It is utterly
+monstrous."
+
+"By Jove! that is really very extraordinary," exclaimed little Van. "I
+tried it, too, last night. Tom Franklyn had some fellows to sup with
+him, and I went in, and they were playing loo; and I lost thirty-seven
+pounds more!"
+
+"Thirty-seven confounded flea-bites! Why, don't you see how you torture
+me with your nonsense? If you can't talk like a man of sense, for
+Heaven's sake, shut up, and don't distract me in my misery."
+
+He emphasised the word with a Lilliputian thump with the side of his
+fist--that which presents the edge of the doubled-up little finger and
+palm--a sort of buffer, which I suppose he thought he might safely apply
+to the pane of glass on which he had been drumming. But he hit a little
+too hard, or there was a flaw in the glass, for the pane flew out,
+touching the window-sill, and alighted in the area with a musical
+jingle.
+
+"There! see what you made me do. My luck! Now we can't talk without
+those brutes at that open window, over the way, hearing every word we
+say. By Jove, it is later than I thought! I did not sleep last night."
+
+"Nor I, a moment," said Van.
+
+"It seems like a week since that accursed race, and I don't know whether
+it is morning or evening, or day or night. It is past four, and I must
+dress and go to my uncle--he said five. Don't leave me, Van, old fellow!
+I think I should cut my throat if I were alone."
+
+"Oh, no, I'll stay with pleasure, although I don't see what comfort
+there is in me, for I am about the most miserable dog in London."
+
+"Now don't make a fool of yourself any more," said Richard Arden. "You
+have only to tell your aunt, and say that you are a prodigal son, and
+that sort of thing, and it will be paid in a week. I look as if I was
+going to be hanged--or is it the colour of that glass? I hate it. I'll
+leave these cursed lodgings. Did you ever see such a ghost?"
+
+"Well, you do look a trifle seedy: you'll look better when you're
+dressed. It's an awful world to live in," said poor Van.
+
+"I'll not be five minutes; you must walk with me a bit of the way. I
+wish I had some fellow at my other side who had lost a hundred thousand.
+I daresay he'd think me a fool. They say Chiffington lost a hundred and
+forty thousand. Perhaps he'd think me as great an ass as I think
+you--who knows? I may be making too much of it--and my uncle is so very
+rich, and neither wife nor child; and, I give you my honour, I am sick
+of the whole thing. I'd never take a card or a dice-box in my hand, or
+back a horse, while I live, if I was once fairly out of it. He _might_
+try me, don't you think? I'm the only near relation he has on earth--I
+don't count my father, for he's--it's a different thing, you know--I and
+my sister, just. And, really, it would be nothing to him. And I think he
+suspected something about it last night; perhaps he heard a little of
+it. And he's rather hot, but he's a good-natured fellow, and he has
+commercial ideas about a man's going into the insolvent court; and, by
+Jove, you know, I'm ruined, and I don't think he'd like to see our name
+disgraced--eh, do you?"
+
+"No, I'm quite sure," said Van. "I thought so all along."
+
+"Peers and peeresses are very fine in their way, and people, whenever
+the peers do anything foolish, and throw out a bill, exclaim 'Thank
+Heaven we have still a House of Lords!' but you and I, Van, may thank
+Heaven for a better estate, the order of aunts and uncles. Do you
+remember the man you and I saw in the vaudeville, who exclaims every now
+and then, '_Vive mon oncle! Vive ma tante!_'?"
+
+So, in better spirits, Arden prepared to visit his uncle.
+
+"Let us get into a cab; people are staring at you," said Richard Arden,
+when they had walked a little way towards his uncle's house. "You look
+so utterly ruined, one would think you had swallowed poison, and were
+dying by inches, and expected to be in the other world before you
+reached your doctor's door. Here's a cab."
+
+They got in, and sitting side by side, said Vandeleur to him, after a
+minute's silence,--
+
+"I've been thinking of a thing--why did not you take Mr. Longcluse into
+council? He gave you a lift before, don't you remember? and he lost
+nothing by it, and made everything smooth. Why don't you look him up?"
+
+"I've been an awful fool, Van."
+
+"How so?"
+
+"I've had a sort of row with Longcluse, and there are reasons--I could
+not, at all events, have asked him. It would have been next to
+impossible, and now it is _quite_ impossible."
+
+"Why should it be? He seemed to like you; and I venture to say he'd be
+very glad to shake hands."
+
+"So he might, but _I_ shouldn't," said Richard imperiously. "No, no,
+there's nothing in that. It would take too long to tell; but I should
+rather go over the precipice than hold by that stay. I don't know how
+long my uncle may keep me. Would you mind waiting for me at my lodgings?
+Thompson will give you cigars and brandy and water; and I'll come back
+and tell you what my uncle intends."
+
+This appointment made, they parted, and he knocked at his uncle's door.
+The sound seemed to echo threateningly at his heart, which sank with a
+sudden misgiving.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XL.
+
+AN INTERVIEW IN THE STUDY.
+
+
+"Is my uncle at home?"
+
+"No, Sir; I expect him at five. It wants about five minutes; but he
+desired me to show you, Sir, into the study."
+
+He was now alone in that large square room. The books, each in its
+place, in a vellum uniform, with a military precision and
+nattiness--seldom disturbed, I fancy, for Uncle David was not much of a
+book-worm--chilled him with an aspect of inflexible formality; and the
+busts, in cold white marble, standing at intervals on their pedestals,
+seemed to have called up looks, like Mrs. Pentweezle, for the occasion.
+Demosthenes, with his wrenched neck and square brow, had evidently heard
+of his dealings with Lord Pindledykes, and made up his mind, when the
+proper time came, to denounce him with a tempest of appropriate
+eloquence. There was in Cicero's face, he thought, something satirical
+and conceited which was new and odious; and under Plato's external
+solemnity he detected a pleasurable and roguish anticipation of the
+coming scene.
+
+His uncle was very punctual. A few minutes would see him in the room,
+and then two or three sentences would disclose the purpose he meditated.
+In the midst of the trepidation which had thus returned, he heard his
+uncle's knock at the hall-door, and in another moment he entered the
+study.
+
+"How d'ye do, Richard? You're punctual. I wish our meeting was a
+pleasanter one. Sit down. You haven't kept faith with me. It is scarcely
+a year since, with a large sum of money, such as at your age I should
+have thought a fortune, I rescued you from bad hands and a great danger.
+Now, Sir, do you remember a promise you then made me? and have you kept
+your word?"
+
+"I confess, uncle, I know I can't excuse myself; but I was tempted, and
+I am weak--I am a fool, worse than a fool--whatever you please to call
+me, and I'm sorry. Can I say more?" pleaded the young man.
+
+"That is saying nothing. It simply means that you do the thing that
+pleases you, and break your word where your inclination prompts; and you
+are sorry because it has turned out unluckily. I have heard that you are
+again in danger. I am not going to help you." His blue eyes looked cold
+and hard, and the oblique light showed severe lines at his brows and
+mouth. It was a face which, generally kindly, could yet look, on
+occasion, stern enough. "Now, observe, I'm not going to help you; I'm
+not even going to reason with you--you can do that for yourself, if you
+please--I will simply help you with _light_. Thus forewarned, you need
+not, of course, answer any one of the questions I am about to put, and
+to ask which, I have no other claim than that which rests upon having
+put you on your feet, and paid five thousand pounds for you, only a year
+ago."
+
+"But I entreat that you do put them. I'm ashamed of myself, dear Uncle
+David; I implore of you to ask me whatever you please: I'll answer
+everything."
+
+"Well, I think I know everything; Lord Pindledykes makes no secret of
+it. He's the man, isn't he?"
+
+"Yes, Sir."
+
+"That's the sallow, dissipated-looking fellow, with the eye that squints
+outward. I know his appearance very well; I knew his good-for-nothing
+father. No one likes to have transactions with that fellow--he's
+shunned--and you chose him, of all people; and he has pigeoned you. I've
+heard all about it. Everybody knows by this time. And you have really
+lost fifteen thousand pounds to him?"
+
+"I am afraid, uncle, it is very near that."
+
+"This, you know," resumed Uncle David, "is not debt: it is ruin. You
+chose to mortgage your reversion to some Jews, for fifteen hundred a
+year, during your father's lifetime. Three hundred would have been
+ample, with the hundred a year you had before--ample; but you chose to
+do it, and the estates, whenever you succeed to them, will come to you
+with a very heavy debt charged, for those Jews, upon them. I don't
+suppose the estates are destined to continue long in our family; but
+this is a vexation which don't touch you, nephew. _I_ am, I confess,
+sorry. They were in our family, some of them, before the Conquest. No
+matter. What you have to consider is your present position. They will
+come to you, if ever, saddled with a heavy debt; and, in the meantime,
+you have fifteen hundred a year for your father's life; and I don't
+think it will sell for anything like the fifteen thousand pounds you
+have just lost. You are therefore insolvent; there is the story told. I
+see nothing for it but your becoming formally an insolvent. It is the
+_bourgeoisie_ who shrink from that sort of thing; titled men, and men of
+pleasure and fashion, don't seem to mind it. There are Lord Harry
+Newgate, and the Honourable Alfred Pentonville, and Sir Aymerick Pigeon,
+one of the oldest baronets in England, have been in the _Gazette_ within
+the last twelve months. The money I paid, on the faith of your promise,
+is worse than wasted. I'll pay no more into the pockets of rooks and
+scoundrels; I'll divide no more of my money among blackguard jockeys and
+villanous peers, simply to defer for a few months the consequences of a
+fool's incorrigible folly."
+
+"But, you know, uncle, I was not quite so mad. The thing was a swindle;
+it can't stand. The horse was not fairly treated."
+
+"I daresay: I suppose it was doctored. I don't care; I only think that
+unless you meant to go in for drugging horses and bribing jockeys, you
+had no business among such people, and at that sort of game. All I want
+is that you clearly understand that in this matter--though I would
+gladly see you safely out of it--I'll waste no more money in paying
+gambling debts."
+
+"This might have happened to anyone, Sir; it might indeed, uncle. Every
+second man you meet is more or less on the turf, and they never come to
+grief by it. No one, of course, can stand against a barefaced swindle,
+like this thing."
+
+"I don't care a farthing about other people; I've seen how it tells upon
+you. I don't affect to value your promises, Dick; I don't think that
+they are worth a shilling. How many have you made me, and broken? To me
+it seems the vice is incurable, like drunkenness. Tattersall's, or
+whatever is your place of business, is no better than the gin-palace;
+and when once a fellow is fairly on the turf, the sooner he is under it,
+the better for himself and all who like him. And you have lost money at
+play besides. I heard that quite accidentally; and I daresay that is a
+ruinous item in what I may call your schedule."
+
+"I know what people are saying; but it isn't so immense a sum, by any
+means."
+
+"I'm sorry to hear it. I wish it was enormous; I wish it was a million.
+I wish your failure could ruin every blackguard in England: the more
+heavily you have hit them all round, the better I am pleased. They hit
+you and me, Dick, pretty hard last time; it is our turn now. It is not
+my fault now, Dick, if you don't understand me perfectly. If at any
+future time I should do anything for you--by my _will_, mind--I shall
+take care so to tie it up that you can't make away with a guinea. My
+advice is not worth much to you, but I venture to give it, and I think
+the best thing you can do is to submit to your misfortune, and file your
+schedule; and when you are your own master again, I shall see if I can
+manage some small thing for you. You will have to work for your bread,
+you know, and you can't expect very much at first; but there are
+things--of course, I mean in commercial establishments, and railways,
+and that kind of thing--where I have an influence, of from a hundred and
+twenty to two hundred pounds a year, and for some of them you would
+answer pretty well, and you can tide over the time till you succeed to
+the title: and after a little while I may be able to get you raised a
+step; and when once you get accustomed to work, you can't think how you
+will come to like it. So that, on the whole, the knock you have got may
+do you some good, and make you prize your position more when you come to
+it. Will you go up-stairs, and take a cup of tea with Miss Maubray?"
+
+He used to call her Grace, when speaking to Richard. Perhaps, in the
+concussion of this earthquake, the fabric of a matrimonial scheme may
+have fallen to the ground.
+
+Richard Arden was too dejected and too agitated to accept this
+invitation, I need hardly tell you. He took his leave, chapfallen.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XLI.
+
+VAN APPOINTS HIMSELF TO A DIPLOMATIC POST.
+
+
+Mr. Vandeleur had availed himself very freely of Richard Arden's
+invitation, to amuse himself during his absence with his cheroots and
+manillas, as the clouded state of the atmosphere of his drawing-room
+testified to that luckless gentleman--if indeed he was in a condition to
+observe anything, on returning from his dreadful interview with his
+uncle.
+
+Richard's countenance was full of thunder and disaster. Vandeleur looked
+in his face, with his cigar in his fingers, and said in a faint and
+hollow tone--
+
+"Well?"
+
+To which inappropriate form of inquiry, Richard Arden deigned no reply;
+but in silence stalked to the box of cigars on the table, threw himself
+into a chair, and smoked violently for awhile.
+
+Some minutes passed. Vandeleur's eyes were fixed, through the smoke, on
+Richard's, who had fixed his on the chimney-piece. Van respected his
+ruminations. With a delicate and noiseless attention, indeed, he
+ventured to slide gently to his side the water carafe, and the brandy,
+and a tumbler.
+
+Still silence prevailed. After a time, Richard Arden poured brandy and
+water suddenly into his glass.
+
+"Think of that fellow, that uncle of mine--pretty uncle! Kind
+relation--rolling in money! He sends for me simply to tell me that he
+won't give me a guinea. He might have waited till he was asked. If he
+had nothing better to say, he need not have given me the trouble of
+going to his odious, bleak study, to hear all his vulgar advice and
+arithmetic, ending in--what do you think? He says that I'm to be had up
+in the bankrupt court, and when all that is over he'll get me appointed a
+ticket-taker on a railway, or a clerk in a pawn-office, or something. By
+Heaven! when I think of it, I wonder how I kept my temper. I'm not quite
+driven to those curious expedients, that he seems to think so natural.
+I've some cards still left in my hand, and I'll play them first, if it
+is the same to him; and, hang it! my luck can't always run the same way.
+I'll give it another chance before I give up, and to-morrow morning
+things may be very different with me."
+
+"It's an awful pity you quarrelled with Longcluse!" exclaimed Vandeleur.
+
+"That's done, and can't be undone," said Richard Arden, resuming his
+cigar.
+
+"I wonder why you quarrelled with him. Why, good heavens! that man is
+made of money, and he got you safe out of that fellow's clutches--I
+forget his name--about that bet with Mr. Slanter, don't you
+remember--and he was so very kind about it; and I'm sure he'd shake
+hands if you'd only ask him, and one way or another he'd pull you
+through."
+
+"I can't ask him, and I won't; he may ask _me_ if he likes. I'm very
+sure there is nothing he would like better, for fifty reasons, than to
+be on good terms with me again, and I have no wish to quarrel any more
+than he has. But if there is to be a reconciliation, I can't begin it.
+He must make the overtures, and that's all."
+
+"He seemed such an awfully jolly fellow that time. And it is such a
+frightful state we are both in. I never came such a mucker before in my
+life. I know him pretty well. I met him at Lady May Penrose's, and at
+the Playfairs', and one night I walked home with him from the opera. It
+is an awful pity you are not on terms with him, and--by Jove! I must go
+and have something to eat; it is near eight o'clock."
+
+Away went Van, and out of the wreck of his fortune contrived a modest
+dinner at Verey's; and pondering, after dinner, upon the awful plight of
+himself and his comrade, he came at last to the heroic resolution of
+braving the dangers of a visit to Mr. Longcluse, on behalf of his
+friend; and as it was now past nine, he hastily paid the waiter, took
+his hat, and set out upon his adventure. It was a mere chance, he knew,
+and a very unlikely one, his finding Mr. Longcluse at home at that hour.
+He knew that he was doing a very odd thing in calling at past nine
+o'clock; but the occasion was anomalous, and Mr. Longcluse would
+understand. He knocked at the door, and learned from the servant that
+his master was engaged with a gentleman in the study, on business. From
+this room he heard a voice, faintly discoursing in a deep metallic
+drawl.
+
+"Who shall I say, Sir?" asked the servant.
+
+If his mission had been less monotonous, and he less excited and
+sanguine as to his diplomatic success, he would have, as he said,
+"funked it altogether," and gone away. He hesitated for a moment, and
+determined upon the form most likely to procure an interview.
+
+"Say Mr. Vandeleur--a friend of Mr. Richard Arden's; you'll remember,
+please--a friend of Mr. Richard Arden's."
+
+In a moment the man returned.
+
+"Will you please to walk up-stairs?" and he showed him into the
+drawing-room.
+
+In little more than a minute, Mr. Longcluse himself entered. His eyes
+were fixed on the visitor with a rather stern curiosity. Perhaps he had
+interpreted the term "friend" a little too technically. He made him a
+ceremonious bow, in French fashion, and placed a chair for him.
+
+"I had the pleasure of being introduced to you, Mr. Longcluse, at Lady
+May Penrose's. My name is Vandeleur."
+
+"I have had that honour, Mr. Vandeleur, I remember perfectly. The
+servant mentioned that you announced yourself as Mr. Arden's friend, if
+I don't mistake."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XLII.
+
+DIPLOMACY.
+
+
+Mr. Vandeleur and Mr. Longcluse were now seated, and the former
+gentleman said--
+
+"Yes, I am a friend of Mr. Arden's--so much so, that I have ventured
+what I hope you won't think a very impertinent liberty. I was so very
+sorry to hear that a misunderstanding had occurred--I did not ask him
+about what--and he has been so unlucky about the Derby, you know--I
+ought to say that I am, upon my honour, a mere volunteer, so perhaps you
+will think I have no right to ask you to listen to me."
+
+"I shall be happy to continue this conversation, Mr. Vandeleur, upon one
+condition."
+
+"Pray name it."
+
+"That you report it fully to the gentleman for whom you are so kind as
+to interest yourself."
+
+"Yes, I'll certainly do that."
+
+Mr. Longcluse looked by no means so jolly as Van remembered him, and he
+thought he detected, at mention of Richard Arden's name, for a moment, a
+look of positive malevolence--I can't say absolutely, it may have been
+fancy--as he turned quickly, and the light played suddenly on his face.
+
+Mr. Longcluse could, perhaps, dissemble as well as other men; but there
+were cases in which he would not be at the trouble to dissemble. And
+here his expression was so unpleasant, upon features so strangely marked
+and so white, that Van thought the effect ugly, and even ghastly.
+
+"I shall be happy, then, to hear anything you have to say," said
+Longcluse gently.
+
+"You are very kind. I was just going to say that he has been so
+unlucky--he has lost so much money----"
+
+"I had better say, I think, at once, Mr. Vandeleur, that nothing shall
+tempt me to take any part in Mr. Arden's affairs."
+
+Van's mild blue eyes looked on him wonderingly.
+
+"You could be of so much use, Mr. Longcluse!"
+
+"I don't desire to be of any."
+
+"But--but that may be, I think it must, in consequence of the unhappy
+estrangement."
+
+He had been conning over phrases on his way, and thought that a pretty
+one.
+
+"A very happy estrangement, on the contrary, for the man who is straight
+and true, and who is by it relieved of a great--mistake."
+
+"I should be so extremely happy," said Van lingeringly, "if I were
+instrumental in inducing both parties to shake hands."
+
+"I don't desire it."
+
+"But, surely, if Richard Arden were the first to offer----"
+
+"I should decline."
+
+Van rose; he fiddled with his hat a little; he hesitated. He had staked
+too much on this--for had he not promised to report the whole thing to
+Richard Arden, who was not likely to be pleased?--to give up without one
+last effort.
+
+"I hope I am not very impertinent," he said, "but I can hardly think,
+Mr. Longcluse, that you are quite indifferent to a reconciliation."
+
+"I'm not indifferent--I'm averse to it."
+
+"I don't understand."
+
+"Will you take some tea?"
+
+"No, thanks; I do so hope that I don't quite understand."
+
+"That's hardly my fault; I have spoken very distinctly."
+
+"Then what you wish to convey is----" said Van, with his hand now at the
+door.
+
+"Is this," said Longcluse, "that I decline Mr. Arden's acquaintance,
+that I won't consider his affairs, and that I peremptorily refuse to be
+of the slightest use to him in his difficulties. I hope I am now
+sufficiently distinct."
+
+"Oh, perfectly--I----"
+
+"Pray take some tea."
+
+"And my visit is a failure. I'm awfully sorry I can't be of any use!"
+
+"None here, Sir, to Mr. Arden--none, no more than I."
+
+"Then I have only to beg of you to accept my apologies for having given
+you a great deal of trouble, and to beg pardon for having disturbed you,
+and to say good-night."
+
+"No trouble--none. I am glad everything is clear now. Good-night."
+
+And Mr. Longcluse saw him politely to the door, and said again, in a
+clear, stern tone, but with a smile and another bow, "Good-night," as he
+parted at the door.
+
+About an hour later a servant arrived with a letter for Mr. Longcluse.
+That gentleman recognised the hand, and suspended his business to read
+it. He did so with a smile. It was thus expressed:--
+
+    "SIR,
+
+    "I beg to inform you, in the distinctest terms, that neither Mr.
+    Vandeleur, nor any other gentleman, had any authority from me to
+    enter into any discussion with you, or to make the slightest
+    allusion to subjects upon which Mr. Vandeleur, at your desire, tells
+    me he, this evening, thought fit to converse with you. And I beg, in
+    the most pointed manner, to disavow all connection with, or previous
+    knowledge of, that gentleman's visit and conversation. And I do so
+    lest Mr. Vandeleur's assertion to the same effect should appear
+    imperfect without mine.--I remain, Sir, your obedient servant,
+
+    "RICHARD ARDEN.
+
+    "To Walter Longcluse, Esq."
+
+"Does any one wait for an answer?" he asked, still smiling.
+
+"Yes, Sir: Mr. Thompson, please, Sir."
+
+"Very well; ask him to wait a moment," said he, and he wrote as
+follows:--
+
+    "Mr. Longcluse takes the liberty of returning Mr. Arden's letter,
+    and begs to decline any correspondence with him."
+
+And this note, with Richard Arden's letter, he enclosed in an envelope,
+and addressed to that gentleman.
+
+While this correspondence, by no means friendly, was proceeding, other
+letters were interesting, very profoundly, other persons in this drama.
+
+Old David Arden had returned early from a ponderous dinner of the
+magnates of that world which interested him more than the world of
+fashion, or even of politics, and he was sitting in his study at
+half-past ten, about a quarter of a mile westward of Mr. Longcluse's
+house in Bolton Street.
+
+Not many letters had come for him by the late post. There were two which
+he chose to read forthwith. The rest would, in Swift's phrase, keep
+cool, and he could read them before his breakfast in the morning. The
+first was a note posted at Islington. He knew his niece's pretty hand.
+This was an "advice" from Mortlake. The second which he picked up from
+the little pack was a foreign letter, of more than usual bulk.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XLIII.
+
+A LETTER AND A SUMMONS.
+
+
+Paris? Yes, he knew the hand well. His face darkened a little with a
+peculiar anxiety. This he will read first. He draws the candles all
+together, near the corner of the table at which he sits. He can't have
+too much light on these formal lines, legible and tall as the letters
+are. He opens the thin envelope, and reads what follows:--
+
+    "DEAR AND HONOURED SIR,
+
+    "I am in receipt of yours of the 13th instant. You judge me rightly
+    in supposing that I have entered on my mission with a willing mind,
+    and no thought of sparing myself. On the 11th instant I presented
+    the letter you were so good as to provide me with to M. de la
+    Perriere. He received me with much consideration in consequence. You
+    have not been misinformed with regard to his position. His influence
+    is, and so long as the present Cabinet remain in power will continue
+    to be, more than sufficient to procure for me the information and
+    opportunities you so much desire. He explained to me very fully the
+    limits of that assistance which official people here have it in
+    their power to afford. Their prerogative is more extensive than with
+    us, but at the same time it has its points of circumscription. Every
+    private citizen has his well-defined rights, which they can in no
+    case invade. He says that had I come armed with affidavits
+    criminating any individual, or even justifying a strong and distinct
+    suspicion, their powers would be much larger. As it is, he cautions
+    me against taking any steps that might alarm Vanboeren. The baron is
+    a suspicious man, it seems, and has, moreover, once or twice been
+    under official surveillance, which has made him crafty. He is not
+    likely to be caught napping. He ostensibly practises the professions
+    of a surgeon and dentist. In the latter capacity he has a very
+    considerable business. But his principal income is derived, I am
+    informed, from sources of a different kind."
+
+"H'm! what can he mean? I suppose he explains a little further on,"
+mused Mr. Arden.
+
+    "He is, in short, a practitioner about whom suspicions of an
+    infamous kind have prevailed. One branch of his business, a rather
+    strange one, has connected him with persons, more considerable in
+    number than you would readily believe, who were, or are, political
+    refugees."
+
+"Can this noble baron be a distiller of poisons?" David Arden ruminated.
+
+    "In all his other equivocal doings, he found, on the few occasions
+    that seemed to threaten danger, mysterious protectors, sufficiently
+    powerful to bring him off scot-free. His relations of a political
+    character were those which chiefly brought him under the secret
+    notice of the police. It is believed that he has amassed a fortune,
+    and it is certain that he is about to retire from business. I can
+    much better explain to you, when I see you, the remarkable
+    circumstances to which I have but alluded. I hope to be in town
+    again, and to have the honour of waiting upon you, on Thursday, the
+    29th instant."
+
+"Ay, that's the day he named at parting. What a punctual fellow that
+is!"
+
+    "They appear to me to have a very distinct bearing upon some
+    possible views of the case in which you are so justly interested.
+    The Baron Vanboeren is reputed very wealthy, but he is by no means
+    liberal in his dealings, and is said to be insatiably avaricious.
+    This last quality may make him practicable----"
+
+"Yes, so it may," acquiesced Uncle David.
+
+    "so that disclosures of importance may be obtained, if he be
+    approached in the proper manner. Lebas was connected, as a mechanic,
+    with the dentistry department of his business. Mr. L---- has been
+    extremely kind to Lebas' widow and children, and has settled a small
+    annuity upon her, and fifteen hundred francs each upon his
+    children."
+
+"Eh? Upon my life, that is very handsome--extremely handsome. It gives
+me rather new ideas of this man--that is, if there's nothing odd in it,"
+said Mr. Arden.
+
+    "The deed by which he has done all this is, in its reciting part, an
+    eccentric one. I waited, as I advised you in mine of the 12th, upon
+    M. Arnaud, who is the legal man employed by Madame Lebas, for the
+    purpose of handing him the ten napoleons which you were so good as
+    to transmit for the use of his family; which sum he has, with many
+    thanks on the part of Madame Lebas, declined, and which, therefore,
+    I hold still to your credit. When explaining to me that lady's
+    reasons for declining your remittance, he requested me to read a
+    deed of gift from Mr. Longcluse, making the provisions I have before
+    referred to, and reciting, as nearly in these words as I can
+    remember:--'Whereas I entertained for the deceased Pierre Lebas, in
+    whose house in Paris I lodged when very young, for more than a year
+    and a half, a very great respect and regard: and whereas I hold
+    myself to have been the innocent cause of his having gone to the
+    room, as appears from my evidence, in which, unhappily, he lost his
+    life: and whereas I look upon it as a disgrace to our City of London
+    that such a crime could have been committed in a place of public
+    resort, frequented as that was at the time, without either
+    interruption or detection; and whereas, so regarding it, I think
+    that such citizens as could well afford to subscribe money,
+    adequately to compensate the family of the deceased for the
+    pecuniary loss which both his widow and children have sustained by
+    reason of his death, were bound to do so; his visit to London having
+    been strictly a commercial one; and all persons connected with the
+    trade of London being more or less interested in the safety of the
+    commercial intercourse between the two countries: and whereas the
+    citizens of London have failed, although applied to for the purpose,
+    to make any such compensation; now this deed witnesseth,' etc."
+
+"Well, in all that, I certainly go with him. We Londoners ought to be
+ashamed of ourselves."
+
+    "The widow has taken her children to Avranches, her native place,
+    where she means to live. Please direct me whether I shall proceed
+    thither, and also upon what particular points you would wish me to
+    interrogate her. I have learned, this moment, that the Baron
+    Vanboeren retires in October next. It is thought that he will fix
+    his residence after that at Berlin. My informant undertakes to
+    advise me of his address, whenever it is absolutely settled. In
+    approaching this baron, it is thought you will have to exercise
+    caution and dexterity, as he has the reputation of being cunning and
+    unscrupulous."
+
+"I'm not good at dealing with such people--I never was. I must engage
+some long-headed fellow who understands them," said he.
+
+    "I debit myself with two thousand five hundred francs, the amount of
+    your remittance on the 15th inst., for which I will account at
+    sight.--I remain, dear and honoured Sir, your attached and most
+    obedient servant,
+
+    "CHRISTOPHER BLOUNT."
+
+"I shall learn all he knows in a few days. What is it that deprives me
+of quiet till a clue be found to the discovery of Yelland Mace? And why
+is it that the fancy has seized me that Mr. Longcluse knows where that
+villain may be found? He admitted, in talking to Alice, she says, that
+he had seen him in his young days. I will pick up all the facts, and
+then consider well all that they may point to. Let us but get the
+letters together, and in time we may find out what they spell. Here am
+I, a rich but sad old bachelor, having missed for ever the best hope of
+my life. Poor Harry long dead, and but one branch of the old tree with
+fruit upon it--Reginald, with his two children: Richard, my
+nephew--Richard Arden, in a few years the sole representative of the
+whole family of Arden, and he such a scamp and fool! If a childless old
+fellow could care for such things, it would be enough to break my heart.
+And poor little Alice! So affectionate and so beautiful, left, as she
+will be, alone, with such a protector as that fellow! I pity her."
+
+At that moment her unopened note caught his eye, as it lay on the table.
+He opened it, and read these words:--
+
+    "MY DEAREST UNCLE DAVID,
+
+    "I am so miserable and perplexed, and so utterly without any one to
+    befriend or advise me in my present unexpected trouble, that I must
+    implore of you to come to Mortlake, if you can, the moment this note
+    reaches you. I know how unreasonable and selfish this urgent request
+    will appear. But when I shall have told you all that has happened,
+    you will say, I know, that I could not have avoided imploring your
+    aid. Therefore, I entreat, distracted creature as I am, that you, my
+    beloved uncle, will come to aid and counsel me; and believe me when
+    I assure you that I am in extreme distress, and without, at this
+    moment, any other friend to help me.--Your very unhappy niece,
+
+    "ALICE."
+
+He read this short note over again.
+
+"No; it is not a sick lap-dog, or a saucy maid: there is some real
+trouble. Alice has, I think, more sense--I'll go at once. Reginald is
+always late, and I shall find them" (he looked at his watch)--"yes, I
+shall find them still up at Mortlake."
+
+So instantly he sent for a cab, and pulled on again a pair of boots,
+instead of the slippers he had donned, and before five minutes was
+driving at a rapid pace towards Mortlake.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XLIV.
+
+THE REASON OF ALICE'S NOTE.
+
+
+The long drive to Mortlake was expedited by promises to the cabman; for,
+in this acquisitive world, nothing for nothing is the ruling law of
+reciprocity. It was about half-past eleven o'clock when they reached the
+gate of the avenue; it was a still night, and a segment of the moon was
+high in the sky, faintly silvering the old fluted piers and urns, and
+the edges of the gigantic trees that overhung them. They were now
+driving up the avenue. How odd was the transition from the glare and
+hurly-burly of the town to the shadowy and silent woodlands on which
+this imperfect light fell so picturesquely.
+
+There were associations enough to induce melancholy as he drove through
+those neglected scenes, his playground in boyish days, where he, and
+Harry whom he loved, had passed so many of the happy days that precede
+school. He could hear his laugh floating still among the boughs of the
+familiar trees, he could see his handsome face smiling down through the
+leaves of the lordly chestnut that stood, at that moment, by the point
+of the avenue they were passing, like a forsaken old friend overlooking
+the way without a stir.
+
+"I'll follow this clue to the end," said David Arden. "I sha'n't make
+much of it, I fear; but if it ends, as others in the same inquiry have,
+in smoke, I shall, at least, have done my utmost, and may abandon the
+task with a good grace, and conclude that Heaven declines to favour the
+pursuit. Taken for all-in-all, he was the best of his generation, and
+the fittest to head the house. Something, I thought, was due, in mere
+respect to his memory. The coldness of Reginald insulted me. If a
+favourite dog had been poisoned, he would have made more exertion to
+commit the culprit. And once in pursuit of this dark shadow, how intense
+and direful grew the interest of the chase, and---- Here we are at the
+hall-door. Don't mind knocking, ring the bell," he said to the driver.
+
+He was himself at the threshold before the door was opened.
+
+"Can I see my brother?" he asked.
+
+"Sir Reginald is in the drawing-room--a small dinner-party to-day,
+Sir--Lady May Penrose, and Lady Mary Maypol, they returned to town in
+Lady May Penrose's carriage, Lord Wynderbroke remains, Sir, and two
+gentlemen; they are at present with Sir Reginald in the smoking-room."
+
+He learned that Miss Arden was alone in the small sitting-room, called
+the card-room. David Arden had walked through the vestibule, and into
+the capacious hall. The lights were all out, but one.
+
+"Well, I sha'n't disturb him. Is Miss Alice----"
+
+"Yes, Alice is here. It is so kind of you to come!" said a voice he well
+knew. "Here I am! Won't you come up to the drawing-room, Uncle David?"
+
+"So you want to consult Uncle David," he said, entering the room, and
+looking round. "In my father's time the other drawing-rooms used to be
+open; it is a handsome suite--very pretty rooms. But I think you have
+been crying, my poor little Alice. What on earth is all this about, my
+dear! Here I am, and it is past eleven; so we must come to the point, if
+I am to hear it to-night. What is the matter?"
+
+"My dear uncle, I have been so miserable!"
+
+"Well, what is it?" he said, taking a chair; "you have refused some
+fellow you like, or accepted some fellow you don't like. I am sure you
+are at the bottom of your own misery, foolish little creature! Girls
+generally are, I think, the architects of their own penitentiaries. Sit
+there, my dear, and if it is anything I can be of the least use in, you
+may count on my doing my utmost. Only you must tell me the whole case,
+and you mustn't colour it a bit."
+
+So they sat down on a sofa, and Miss Alice told him in her own way that,
+to her amazement, that day Lord Wynderbroke had made something very like
+a confession of his passion, and an offer of his hand, which this
+unsophisticated young lady was on the point of repelling, when Lady May
+entered the room, accompanied by her friend, Lady Mary Maypol; and, of
+course, the interesting situation, for that time, dissolved. About an
+hour after, Alice, who was shocked at the sudden distinction of which
+she had become the object, and extremely vexed at the interruption which
+had compelled her to suspend her reply, and very anxious for an
+opportunity to answer with decision, found that opportunity in a little
+saunter which she and the two ladies took in the grounds, accompanied by
+Lord Wynderbroke and Sir Reginald.
+
+When the opportunity came, with a common inconsistency, she rather
+shrank from the crisis; and a slight uncertainty as to the actual
+meaning of the noble lord, rendered her perplexity still more
+disagreeable. It occurred thus: the party had walked some little
+distance, and when Alice was addressed by her father--
+
+"Here is Wynderbroke, who says he has never seen my Roman inscription!
+You, Alice, must do the honours, for I daren't yet venture on the
+grass,"--he shrugged and shook his head over his foot--"and I will take
+charge of Lady Mary and Lady May, who want to see the Derbyshire
+thistles--they have grown so enormous under my gardener's care. You
+said, May, the other evening, that you would like to see them."
+
+Lady May acquiesced with true feminine sympathy with the baronet's
+stratagem, notwithstanding an imploring glance from Alice! and Lady Mary
+Maypol, exchanging a glance with Lady May, expressed equal interest in
+the Derbyshire thistles.
+
+"You will find the inscription at the door of the grotto, only twenty
+steps from this; it was dug up when my grandfather made the round pond,
+with the fountain in it. You'll find us in the garden."
+
+Lord Wynderbroke beamed an insufferable smile on Alice, and said
+something pretty that she did not hear. She knew perfectly what was
+coming, and although resolved, she was yet in a state of extreme
+confusion.
+
+Lord Wynderbroke was talking all the way as they approached the grotto;
+but not one word of his harmonious periods did she clearly hear. By the
+time they reached the little rocky arch under the evergreens, through
+the leaves of which the marble tablet and Roman inscription were
+visible, they had each totally forgotten the antiquarian object with
+which they had set out.
+
+Lord Wynderbroke came to a standstill, and then with a smiling precision
+and distinctness, and in accents that seemed, somehow, to ring through
+her head, he made a very explicit declaration and proposal; and during
+the entire delivery of this performance, which was neat and lucid rather
+than impassioned, she remained tongue-tied, listening as if to a tale
+told in a dream.
+
+She withdrew her hand hastily from Lord Wynderbroke's tender pressure,
+and the young lady with a sudden effort, replied collectedly enough, in
+a way greatly to amaze Lord Wynderbroke.
+
+When she had done, that nobleman was silent for some time, and stood in
+the same attitude of attention with which he had heard her. With a
+heightened colour he cleared his voice, and his answer, when it came,
+was dry and pettish. He thought with great deference, that he was,
+perhaps entitled to a little consideration, and it appeared to him that
+he had quite unaccountably misunderstood what had seemed the very
+distinct language of Sir Reginald. For the present he had no more to
+say. He hoped to explain more satisfactorily to Miss Arden, after he had
+himself had a few words of explanation, to which he thought he had a
+claim, from Sir Reginald; and he must confess that, after the lengths to
+which he had been induced to proceed, he was quite taken by surprise,
+and inexpressibly wounded by the tone which Miss Arden had adopted.
+
+Side by side, at a somewhat quick pace, Miss Arden with a heightened
+colour, and Lord Wynderbroke with his ears tingling, rejoined their
+friends.
+
+"Well, my dear child," said Uncle David, with a laugh, "if you have
+nothing worse to complain of, though I am very glad to see you, I think
+we might have put off our meeting till daylight."
+
+"Oh! but you have not heard half what has happened. He has behaved in
+the most cowardly, treacherous, ungentlemanlike way," she continued
+vehemently. "Papa sent for me, and I never saw him so angry in my life.
+Lord Wynderbroke has been making his unmanly complaints to him, and papa
+spoke so violently. And _he_, instead of going away, having had from me
+the answer which nothing on earth shall ever induce me to change, _he_
+remains here; and actually had the audacity to tell me, very nearly in
+so many words, that my decision went for nothing. I spoke to him quite
+frankly, but said nothing that was at all rude--nothing that could have
+made him the least angry. I implored of him to believe me that I never
+could change my mind; and I could not help crying, I was so agitated and
+wretched. But he seemed very much vexed, and simply said that he placed
+himself entirely in papa's hands. In fact, I've been utterly miserable
+and terrified, and I do not know how I can endure those terrible scenes
+with papa. The whole thing has come upon me so suddenly. Could you have
+imagined any gentleman capable of acting like Lord Wynderbroke--so
+selfish, cruel, and dastardly?" and with these words she burst into
+tears.
+
+"Do you mean to say that he won't take your refusal?" said her uncle,
+looking very angry.
+
+"That is what he says," she sobbed. "He had an opportunity only for a
+few words, and that was the purport of them; and I was so astounded, I
+could not reply; and, instead of going away, he remains here. Papa and
+he have arranged to prolong his visit; so I shall be teased and
+frightened, and I am so nervous and agitated; and it is such an
+outrage!"
+
+"Now, we must not lose our heads, my dear child; we must consult calmly.
+It seems you don't think it possible that you may come to like Lord
+Wynderbroke sufficiently to marry him."
+
+"I would rather _die_! If this goes on, I sha'n't stay here. I'd go and
+be a governess rather."
+
+"I think you might give my house a trial first," said Uncle David
+merrily; "but it is time to talk about that by-and-by. What does May
+Penrose think of it? She sometimes, I believe, on an emergency, lights
+on a sensible suggestion."
+
+"She had to return to town with Lady Mary, who dined here also; I did
+not know she was going until a few minutes before they left. I've been
+so _miserably_ unlucky! and I could not make an opportunity without its
+seeming so rude to Lady Mary, and I don't know her well enough to tell
+her; and, you have no idea, papa is so incensed, and so peremptory; and
+what _am_ I to do? Oh! dear uncle, think of something. I know you'll
+help me."
+
+"That I will," said the old gentleman. "But allowances are to be made
+for a poor old devil so much in love as Lord Wynderbroke."
+
+"I don't think he likes me now--he can't like me," said Alice. "But he
+is angry. It is simply pride and vanity. From something papa said, I am
+sure of it, Lord Wynderbroke has been telling his friends, and speaking,
+I fancy, as if everything was arranged, and he never anticipated that I
+could have any mind of my own; and I suppose he thinks he would be
+laughed at, and so I am to undergo a persecution, and he won't hear of
+anything but what he pleases; and papa is determined to accomplish it.
+And, oh! what _am_ I to do?"
+
+"I'll tell you, but you must do exactly as I bid you. Who's there?" he
+said suddenly, as Alice's maid opened the door.
+
+"Oh! I beg pardon--Miss Alice, please," she said, dropping a curtsey and
+drawing back.
+
+"Don't go," said Uncle David, "we shall want you. What's the matter?"
+
+"Sir Reginald has been took bad with his foot again, please, Miss."
+
+"Nothing serious?" said Uncle David.
+
+"Only pain, please, Sir, in the same place."
+
+"All the better it should fix itself well in his foot. You need not be
+uneasy about it, Alice. You and your maid must be in my cab, which is at
+the hall door, in five minutes. Take leave of no one, and don't waste
+time over finery; just put a few things up, and take your dressing-case;
+and you and your maid are coming to town with me. Is my brother in the
+drawing-room?"
+
+"No, Sir, please; he is in his own room."
+
+"Are the gentlemen who dined still here?"
+
+"Two left, Sir, when Sir Reginald took ill; but Lord Wynderbroke
+remains."
+
+"Oh! and where is he?"
+
+"Sir Reginald sent for him, please, Sir--just as I came up--to his
+room."
+
+"Very good, then I shall find them both together. Now, Alice, I must
+find you and your maid in the cab in five minutes. I shall get your
+leave from Reginald, and you order the fellow to drive down to the
+little church gate in the village close by, and I'll walk after and join
+you there in a few minutes. Lose no time."
+
+With this parting charge, Uncle David ran down the stairs, and met Lord
+Wynderbroke at the foot of them, returning from his visit of charity to
+Sir Reginald's room.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XLV.
+
+COLLISION.
+
+
+"Lord Wynderbroke!" said Uncle David, and bowed rather ceremoniously.
+
+Lord Wynderbroke, a little surprised, extended two fingers and said,
+"How d'ye do, Mr. Arden?" and smiled drily, and then seemed disposed to
+pass on.
+
+"I beg your pardon, Lord Wynderbroke," said David Arden, "but would you
+mind giving me a few minutes? I have something you may think a little
+important to say, and if you will allow me, I'll say it in this
+room"--he indicated the half-open door of the dining-room, in which
+there was still some light--"I shall not detain you long."
+
+The urbane and smiling peer looked on him for a moment--rather
+darkly--with a shrewd eye; and he said, still smiling,--
+
+"Certainly, Mr. Arden; but at this hour, and being about to write a
+note, you will see that I have very little time indeed--I'm very sorry."
+
+He was speaking stiffly, and any one might have seen that he suspected
+nothing very agreeable as the result of Mr. Arden's communication.
+
+When they had got into the dining-room, and the door was closed, Lord
+Wynderbroke, with his head a little high, invited Mr. Arden to proceed.
+
+"Then, as you are in a hurry, you'll excuse my going direct to the
+point. I've come here in consequence of a note that reached me about an
+hour ago, informing me that my niece, Alice Arden, has suffered a great
+deal of annoyance. You know, of course, to what I refer?"
+
+"I should extremely regret that the young lady, your niece, should
+suffer the least vexation, from any cause; but I should have fancied
+that her happiness might be more naturally confided to the keeping of
+her father, than of a relation residing in a different house, and by no
+means so nearly interested in consulting it."
+
+"I see, Lord Wynderbroke, that I must address you very plainly, and even
+coarsely. My brother Reginald does not consult her happiness in this
+matter, but merely his own ideas of a desirable family connection. She
+is really quite miserable; she has unalterably made up her mind. You'll
+not induce her to change it. There is no chance of that. But by
+permitting my brother to exercise a pressure in favour of your suit----"
+
+"You'll excuse my interrupting for a moment, to say that there is, and
+can be, nothing but the perfectly legitimate influence of a parent.
+_Pressure_, there is none--none in the world, Sir; although I am not,
+like you, Mr. Arden, a relation--and a very near one--of Sir Reginald
+Arden's, I think I can undertake to say that he is quite incapable of
+exercising what you call a pressure upon the young lady his daughter;
+and I have to beg that you will be so good as to spare me the pain of
+hearing that term employed, as you have just now employed it--or _at
+all_, Sir, in connection with me. I take the liberty of insisting upon
+that, _peremptorily_."
+
+Mr. Arden bowed, and went on:
+
+"And when the young lady distinctly declines the honour you propose, you
+persist in paying your addresses, as though her answer meant just
+nothing."
+
+"I don't quite know, Sir, why I've listened so long to this kind of
+thing from you; you have no right on earth, Sir, to address that sort of
+thing to me. How dare you talk to me, Sir, in that--a--a--audacious tone
+upon my private affairs and conduct?"
+
+Uncle David was a little fiery, and answered, holding his head high,--
+
+"What I have to say is short and clear. I don't care twopence about your
+affairs, or your conduct, but I do very much care about my niece's
+happiness; and if you any longer decline to take the answer she has
+given you, and continue to cause her the slightest trouble, I'll make it
+a personal matter with you. Good-_night_!" he added, with an inflamed
+visage, and a stamp on the floor, thundering his valediction. And forth
+he went to pay his brief visit to his brother--not caring twopence, as
+he said, what Lord Wynderbroke thought of him.
+
+Sir Reginald had got into his dressing-gown. He was not now in any pain
+to speak of, and expressed great surprise at the sudden appearance of
+his brother.
+
+"You'll take something, won't you?"
+
+"Nothing, thanks," answered David. "I came to beg a favour."
+
+"Oh! did you? You find me very poorly," said the baronet, in a tone that
+seemed to imply, "You might easily kill me, by imposing the least
+trouble just now."
+
+"You'll be all the better, Reginald, for this little attack; it is so
+comfortably established in your foot."
+
+"Comfortably! I wish you felt it," said Sir Reginald, sharply; "and it's
+confoundedly late. Why didn't you come to dinner?"
+
+David laughed good-humouredly.
+
+"You forgot, I think, to ask me," said he.
+
+"Well, well, you know there is always a chair and a glass for you; but
+won't it do to talk about any cursed thing you wish to-morrow? I--I
+never, by any chance, hear anything agreeable. I have been tortured out
+of my wits and senses all day long by a tissue of pig-headed,
+indescribable frenzy. I vow to Heaven there's a conspiracy to drive me
+into a mad-house, or into my grave; and I declare to my Maker, I wish
+the first time I'm asleep, some fellow would come in and blow my brains
+out on the pillow."
+
+"I don't know an easier death," said David; and his brother, who meant
+it to be terrific, did not pretend to hear him. "I have only a word to
+say," he continued, "a request you have never refused to other friends,
+and, in fact, dear Reginald, I ventured to take it for granted you would
+not refuse me; so I have taken Alice into town, to make me a little
+visit of a day or two."
+
+"You haven't taken Alice--you don't mean--she's not gone?" exclaimed the
+baronet, sitting up with a sudden perpendicularity, and staring at his
+brother as if his eyes were about to leap from their sockets.
+
+"I'll take the best care of her. Yes, she _is_ gone," said David.
+
+"But my dear, excellent, worthy--why, curse you, David, you can't
+possibly have done anything so clumsy! Why, you forgot that Wynderbroke
+is here; how on earth am I to entertain Wynderbroke without her?"
+
+"Why, it is exactly because Lord Wynderbroke is here, that I thought it
+the best time for her to make me a visit."
+
+"I protest to Heaven, David, I believe you're deranged! Do you the least
+know what you are saying?"
+
+"Perfectly. Now, my dear Reginald, let us look at the matter quietly.
+The girl does not like him; she would not marry him, and never will; she
+has grown to hate him; his own conduct has made her despise and detest
+him; and she's not the kind of girl who would marry for a mere title.
+She has unalterably made up her mind; and these are not times when you
+can lock a young lady into her room, and starve her into compliance; and
+Alice is a spirited girl--all the women of our family were. You're no
+goose like Wynderbroke--you only need to know that the girl has quite
+made up her mind, or her heart, or her hatred, or whatever it is, and
+she won't marry him. It is as well he should know it at first, as at
+last; and I don't think, if he were a gentleman, peer though he be, he
+would have been in this house to-night. He counted on his title: he was
+too sure. I am very proud of Alice. And now he can't bear the
+mortification--having, like a fool, disclosed his suit to others before
+it had succeeded--of letting the world know he has been refused; and to
+this petty vanity he would sacrifice Alice, and prevail on you, if he
+could, to bully her into accepting him, a plan in which, if he
+perseveres, I have told him he shall, besides failing ridiculously, give
+me a meeting; for I will make it a personal quarrel with him."
+
+Sir Reginald sat in his chair, looking very white and wicked, with his
+eyes gleaming fire on his brother. He opened his mouth once or twice, to
+speak, but only drew a short breath at each attempt.
+
+David Arden rather wondered that his brother took all this so quietly.
+If he had observed him a little more closely, he would have seen that
+his hands were trembling, and perceived also that he had tried
+repeatedly to speak, and that either voice or articulation failed him.
+On a sudden he recovered, and regardless of his gout started to his
+feet, and limped along the floor, exclaiming,--
+
+"Help us--help us--God help us! What's this? My--my--oh, my God! It's
+very bad!" He was stumping round and round the table, near which he had
+sat, and restlessly shoving the pamphlets and books hither and thither
+as he went. "What have I done to earn this curse?--was ever mortal so
+pursued? The last thing, this was; now all's gone--quite gone--it's
+over, quite. They've done it--they've done it. _Bravo! bravi tutti!
+brava!_ All--all, and everything gone! To think of her--only to think of
+her! She was my pet." (And in his bleak, trembling voice, he cried a
+horrid curse at her.) "I tell you," he screamed, dashing his hand on the
+table, at the other end of which he had arrested his monotonous shuffle
+round it, when his brother caught suddenly his vacant eye, "you think,
+because I'm down in the world, and you are prosperous, that you can do
+as you like. If I was where I should be, you daren't. I'll have her
+back, Sir. I'll have the police with you. I'll--I'll indict you--it's a
+police-office affair. They'll take her through the streets. Where's the
+wretch like her? I charge her--let them take her by the shoulder. And my
+son, Richard--to think of him!--the cursed puppy!--his _post obit_! One
+foot in the grave, have I? No, I'm not so near smoked out as you take
+me--I've a long time for it--I've a long life. I'll live to see him
+broken--without a coat to his back--you villanous, swindling dandy, and
+I'll----"
+
+His voice got husky, and he struck his thin fist on the table, and clung
+to it, and the room was suddenly silent.
+
+David Arden rang the bell violently, and got his arm round his brother,
+who shook himself feebly, and shrugged, as if he disdained and hated
+that support.
+
+In came Crozier, who looked aghast, but wheeled his easy-chair close to
+where he stood, and between them they got him into it, trembling from
+head to foot.
+
+Martha Tansey came in and lent her aid, and beckoning her to the door,
+David Arden asked her if she thought him very ill.
+
+"I 'a' seen him just so a dozen times over. He'll be well enough, soon,
+and if ye knew him as weel in they takins, ye'd ho'd wi' me, there's
+nothing more than common in't; he's a bit teathy and short-waisted, and
+always was, and that's how he works himself into them fits."
+
+So spoke Tansey, into whose talk, in moments of excitement, returned
+something of her old north-country dialect.
+
+"Well, so he was, vexed with me, as with other people, and he has
+over-excited himself; but as he has this little gout about him, I may as
+well send out his doctor as I return."
+
+This little conversation took place outside Sir Reginald's room-door,
+which David did not care to re-enter, as his brother might have again
+become furious on seeing him. So he took his leave of Martha Tansey, and
+their whispered dialogue ended. One or two sighs and groans showed that
+Sir Reginald's energies were returning. David Arden walked quickly
+across the vast hall, in which now burned duskily but a single candle,
+and let himself out into the clear, cold night; and as he walked down
+the broad avenue he congratulated himself on having cut the Gordian
+knot, and liberated his niece.
+
+It was a pleasant walk by the narrow road, with its lofty groining of
+foliage, down to the village outpost of Islington, where, under the
+shadow of the old church-spire, he found his cab waiting, with Alice and
+her maid in it.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XLVI.
+
+AN UNKNOWN FRIEND.
+
+
+As they drove into town, Uncle David was thinking how awkward it would
+be if Sir Reginald should have recovered his activity, and dispatched a
+messenger to recall Alice, and await their arrival at his door. Well, he
+did not want a quarrel; he hated a fracas; but he would not send Alice
+back till next morning, come what might; and then he would return with
+her, and see Lord Wynderbroke again, and take measures to compel an
+immediate renunciation of his suit. As for Reginald, he would find
+arguments to reconcile him to the disappointment. At all events, Alice
+had thrown herself upon his protection, and he would not surrender her
+except on terms.
+
+Uncle David was silent, having all this matter to ruminate upon. He left
+a pencilled line for Sir Henry Margate, his brother's physician, and
+then drove on towards home.
+
+Turning into Saint James's Street, Alice saw her brother standing at the
+side of a crossing, with a great-coat and a white muffler on, the air
+being sharp. A couple of carriages drawn up near the pavement, and the
+passing of two or three others on the outside, for a moment checked
+their progress, and Alice, had not the window been up, could have spoken
+to him as they passed. He did not see them, but the light of a lamp was
+on his face, and she was shocked to see how ill he looked.
+
+"There is Dick," she said, touching her uncle's arm, "looking so
+miserable! Shall we speak to him!"
+
+"No, dear, never mind him--he's well enough." David Arden peeped at his
+nephew as they passed. "He is beginning to take an interest in what
+really concerns him."
+
+She looked at her uncle, not understanding his meaning.
+
+"We can talk of it another time, dear," he added with a cautionary
+glance at the maid, who sat in the corner at the other side.
+
+Richard Arden was on his way to the place where he meant to recover his
+losses. He had been playing deep at Colonel Marston's lodgings, but not
+yet luckily. He thought he had used his credit there as far as he could
+successfully press it.
+
+The polite young men who had their supper there that night, and played
+after he left till nearly five o'clock in the morning, knew perfectly
+what he had lost at the Derby; but they did not know how perilously, on
+the whole, he was already involved. Was Richard Arden, who had lost
+nearly seven hundred pounds at Colonel Marston's little gathering,
+though he had not paid them yet, now quite desperate? By no means. It is
+true he had, while Vandeleur was out, made an excursion to the City,
+and, on rather hard terms, secured a loan of three hundred pounds--a
+trifle which, if luck favoured, might grow to a fortune; but which, if
+it proved contrary, half an hour would see out.
+
+He had locked this up in his desk, as a reserve for a theatre quite
+different from Marston's little party; and on his way to that more
+public and also more secret haunt, he had called at his lodgings for it.
+It was not that small deposit that cheered him, but a curious and
+unexpected little note which he found there. It presented by no means a
+gentlemanlike exterior. The hand was a round clerk's-hand, with
+flourishing capitals, on an oblong blue envelope, with a vulgar little
+device. A dun, he took it to be; and he was not immediately relieved
+when he read at the foot of it, "Levi." Then he glanced to the top, and
+read, "DEAR SIR."
+
+This easy form of address he read with proper disdain.
+
+    "I am instructed by a most respectable party who is desirous to
+    assist you, to the figure of £1,000 or upwards, at nominal
+    discounts, to meet you and ascertain your wishes thereupon, if
+    possible to-night, lest you should suffer inconvenience.
+
+    "Yours truly,
+    "ISRAEL LEVI.
+
+    "P.S.--In furtherance of the above, I shall be at Dignum's Divan,
+    Strand, from 11 P.M. to-night to 1 A.M."
+
+Here then, at last, was a sail in sight!
+
+With this note in his pocket, he walked direct to the place of
+rendezvous, in the Strand. It was on his way that, unseen by him, his
+sister and his uncle had observed him, on their drive to David Arden's
+house.
+
+There were two friends only whom he strongly suspected of this very
+well-timed interposition--there was Lady May Penrose, and there was
+Uncle David. Lady May was rich, and quite capable of a generous
+sacrifice for him. Uncle David, also rich, would like to show an
+intimidating front, as he had done, but would hardly like to see him go
+to the wall. There was, I must confess, a trifling bill due to Mr.
+Longcluse, who had kindly got or given him cash for it. It was something
+less than a hundred pounds--a mere nothing; but in their altered
+relations, it would not do to permit any miscarriage of this particular
+bill. He might have risked it in the frenzy of play. But to stoop to ask
+quarter from Longcluse was more than his pride could endure. No; nor
+would the humiliation avail to arrest the consequences of his neglect.
+In the general uneasiness and horror of his situation, this little point
+was itself a centre of torture, and now his unknown friend had come to
+the rescue, and in the golden sunshine of his promise it, like a hundred
+minor troubles, was dissolving.
+
+In Pall Mall he jumped into a cab, feeling strangely like himself again.
+The lights, the clubs, the well-known perspectives, the stars above him,
+and the gliding vehicles and figures that still peopled the streets, had
+recovered their old cheery look; he was again in the upper world, and
+his dream of misery had broken up and melted. Under the great coloured
+lamp, yellow, crimson, and blue, that overhung the pavement, emblazoned
+on every side with transparent arabesques, and in gorgeous capitals
+proclaiming to all whom it might concern "DIGNUM'S DIVAN," he dismissed
+his cab, took his counter in the cigar shop, and entered the great rooms
+beyond. The first of these, as many of my readers remember, was as large
+as a good-sized Methodist Chapel; and five billiard-tables, under a
+blaze of gas, kept the many-coloured balls rolling, and the marker busy,
+calling "Blue on brown, and pink your player," and so forth; and
+gentlemen young and old, Christians and Hebrews, in their shirt-sleeves,
+picked up shillings when they took "lives," or knocked the butts of
+their cues fiercely on the floor when they unexpectedly lost them.
+
+Among a very motley crowd, Richard Arden slowly sauntering through the
+room found Mr. Levi, whose appearance he already knew, having once or
+twice had occasion to consult him financially. His play was over for the
+night. The slim little Jew, with black curly head, large fierce black
+eyes, and sullen mouth, stood with his hands in his pockets, gaping
+luridly over the table where he had just, he observed to his friend
+Isaac Blumer, who did not care if he was hanged, "losht sheven pound
+sheventeen, ash I'm a shinner!"
+
+Mr. Levi saw Richard Arden approaching, and smiled on him with his wide
+show of white fangs. Richard Arden approached Mr. Levi with a grave and
+haughty face. Here, to be sure, was nothing but what Horace Walpole used
+to call "the mob." Not a human being whom he knew was in the room; still
+he would have preferred seeing Mr. Levi at his office; and the audacity
+of his presuming to grin in that familiar fashion! He would have liked
+to fling one of the billiard-balls in his teeth. In a freezing tone, and
+with his head high, he said,--
+
+"I think you are Mr. Levi."
+
+"The shame," responded Levi, still smiling; "and 'ow ish Mr. Harden
+thish evening?"
+
+"I had a note from you," said Arden, passing by Mr. Levi's polite
+inquiry, "and I should like to know if any of that money you spoke of
+may be made available to-night."
+
+"Every shtiver," replied the Jew cheerfully.
+
+"I can have it all? Well, this is rather a noisy place," hesitated
+Richard Arden, looking around him.
+
+"I can get into Mishter Dignum's book-offish here, Mr. Harden, and it
+won't take a moment. I haven't notes, but I'll give you our cheques, and
+there'sh no place in town they won't go down as slick as gold. I'll
+fetch you to where there's pen and ink."
+
+"Do so," said he.
+
+In a very small room, where burned a single jet of gas, Mr. Arden signed
+a promissory note for, £1,012 10s., for which Mr. Levi handed him
+cheques of his firm for £1,000.
+
+Having exchanged these securities, Richard Arden said--
+
+"I wish to put one or two questions to you, Mr. Levi." He glanced at a
+clerk who was making "tots" from a huge folio before him, on a slip of
+paper, and transferring them to a small book, with great industry.
+
+Levi understood him and beckoned in silence, and when they both stood in
+the passage he said--
+
+"If you want a word private with me, Mr. Harden, where there'sh no one
+can shee us, you'll be as private as the deshert of Harabia if you walk
+round the corner of the shtreet."
+
+Arden nodded, and walked out into the Strand, accompanied by Mr. Levi.
+They turned to the left, and a few steps brought them to the corner of
+Cecil Street. The street widens a little after you pass its narrow
+entrance. It was still enough to justify Mr. Levi's sublime comparison.
+The moon shone mistily on the river, which was dotted and streaked, at
+its further edge with occasional red lights from windows, relieved by
+the black reflected outline of the building which made their
+back-ground. At the foot of the street, at that time, stood a clumsy
+rail, and Richard Arden leaned his arm on this, as he talked to the Jew,
+who had pulled his short cloak about him; and in the faint light he
+could not discern his features, near as he stood, except, now and then,
+his white eye-balls, faintly, as he turned, or his teeth when he smiled.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XLVII.
+
+BY THE RIVER.
+
+
+"You mentioned, Mr. Levi, in your note, that you were instructed, by
+some person who takes an interest in me, to open this business," said
+Richard Arden, in a more conciliatory tone. "Will your instructions
+permit you to tell me who that person is?"
+
+"No, no," drawled Mr. Levi, with a slow shake of his head; "I declare to
+you sholemnly, Mr. Harden, I couldn't. I'm employed by a third party,
+and though I may make a tolerable near guess who's firsht fiddle in the
+bishness, I can't shay nothin'."
+
+"Surely you can say this--it is hardly a question, I am so sure of
+it--is the friend who lends this money a gentleman?"
+
+"I think the pershon as makesh the advanshe is a bit of a shwell. There,
+now, that'sh enough."
+
+"But I said a _gentleman_," persisted Arden.
+
+"You mean to ask, hashn't a lady got nothing to do with it?"
+
+"Well, suppose I do?"
+
+Mr. Levi shook his head slowly, and all his white teeth showed dimly, as
+he answered with an unctuous significance that tempted Arden strongly to
+pitch him into the river.
+
+"We puts the ladiesh first; ladiesh and shentlemen, that's the way it
+goes at the theaytre; if a good-looking chap's a bit in a fix, there'sh
+no one like a lady to pull him through."
+
+"I really want to know," said Richard Arden, with difficulty restraining
+his fury. "I have some relations who are likely enough to give me a lift
+of this kind; some _are_ ladies, and some gentlemen, and I have a right
+to know to whom I owe this money."
+
+"To our firm; who elshe? We have took your paper, and you have our
+cheques on Childs'."
+
+"_Your_ firm lend money at five per cent.!" said Arden with contempt.
+"You forget, Mr. Levi, you mentioned in your note, distinctly, that you
+act for another person. Who _is_ that principal for whom you act?"
+
+"I don't know."
+
+"Come, Mr. Levi! you are no simpleton; you may as well tell me--no one
+shall be a bit the wiser--for I _will_ know."
+
+"Azh I'm a shinner--as I hope to be shaved----" began Mr. Levi.
+
+"It won't do--you may just as well tell me--out with it!"
+
+"Well, here now; I _don't_ know, but if I did, upon my shoul, I wouldn't
+tell you."
+
+"It is pleasant to meet with so much sensitive honour, Mr. Levi," said
+Richard Arden very scornfully. "I have nothing particular to say, only
+that your firm were mistaken, a little time ago, when they thought that
+I was without resources; I've friends, you now perceive, who only need
+to learn that I want money, to volunteer assistance. Have you anything
+more to say?"
+
+Richard Arden saw the little Jew's fine fangs again displayed in the
+faint light, as he thus spoke; but it was only prudent to keep his
+temper with this lucky intervenient.
+
+"I have nothing to shay, Mr. Harden, only there'sh more where that came
+from, and I may tell you sho, for that'sh no shecret. But don't you go
+too fasht, young gentleman--not that you won't get it--but don't you go
+too fasht."
+
+"If I should ever ask your advice, it will be upon other things. I'm
+giving the lender as good security as I have given to any one else. I
+don't see any great wonder in the matter. Good-night," he said
+haughtily, not taking the trouble to look over his shoulder as he walked
+away.
+
+"Good-night," responded Mr. Levi, taking one of Dignum's cigars from his
+waistcoat-pocket, and preparing to light it with a lazy grin, as he
+watched the retreating figure lessening in the perspective of the
+street, "and take care of yourshelf for my shake, _do_, and don't you be
+lettin' all them fine women be throwin' their fortunes like that into
+your 'at, and bringin' themshelves to the workus, for love of your
+pretty fashe--poor, dear, love-sick little fools! There you go, right
+off to Mallet and Turner's, I dareshay, and good luck attend you, for a
+reglar lady-killin', 'ansome, sweet-spoken, broken-down jackass!"
+
+At this period of his valediction the vesuvian was applied to his cigar,
+and Richard Arden, turning the far corner of the street, escaped the
+remainder of his irony, as the Jew, with his hands in his pockets,
+sauntered up its quiet pavement, in the direction in which Richard Arden
+had just disappeared. It seemed to that young gentleman that his
+supplies, no less than thirteen hundred pounds, would all but command
+the luck of which, as his spirits rose, he began to feel confident.
+"Fellows," he thought, "who have gone in with less than fifty, have come
+out, to my knowledge, with thousands; and if less than fifty could do
+that, what might not be expected from thirteen hundred?"
+
+He picked up a cab. Never did lover fly more impatiently to the feet of
+his mistress than Richard Arden did, that night, to the shrine of the
+goddess whom he worshipped.
+
+The muttered scoffs, the dark fiery gaze, the glimmering teeth of this
+mocking, malicious little Jew, represented an influence that followed
+Richard Arden that night.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XLVIII.
+
+SUDDEN NEWS.
+
+
+What is luck? Is there such an influence? What type of mind rejects
+altogether, and consistently, this law or power? Call it by what name
+you will, fate or fortune, did not Napoleon, the man of death and of
+action, and did not Swedenborg, the man of quietude and visions,
+acknowledge it? Where is the successful gamester who does not "back his
+luck," when once it has declared itself, and bow before the storms of
+fortune when they in turn have set in? I take Napoleon and
+Swedenborg--the man of this visible world, and the man of the invisible
+world--as the representatives of extreme types of mind. People who have
+looked into Swedenborg's works will remember curious passages on the
+subject, and find more dogmatical, and less metaphysical admissions in
+Napoleon's conversations everywhere.
+
+In corroboration of this theory, that luck is an element, with its
+floods and ebbs, against which it is fatuity to contend, was the result
+of Richard Arden's play.
+
+Before half-past two, he had lost every guinea of his treasure. He had
+been drinking champagne. He was flushed, dismal, profoundly angry. Hot
+and headachy, he was ready to choke with gall. There was a big,
+red-headed, vulgar fellow beside him, with a broad-brimmed white hat,
+who was stuffing his pockets and piling the table before him, as though
+he had found the secret of an "open sesame," and was helping himself
+from the sacks of the Forty Thieves.
+
+When Richard had lost his last pound, he would have liked to smash the
+gas-lamps and windows, and the white hat and the red head in it, and
+roar the blasphemy that rose to his lips. But men can't afford to make
+themselves ridiculous, and as he turned about to make his unnoticed
+exit, he saw the little Jew, munching a sandwich, with a glass of
+champagne beside him.
+
+"I say," said Richard Arden, walking up to the little man, whose big
+mouth was full of sandwich, and whose fierce black eyes encountered his
+instantaneously, "you don't happen to have a little more, on the same
+terms, about you?"
+
+Mr. Levi waited to bolt his sandwich, and then swallow down his
+champagne.
+
+"Shave me!" exclaimed he, when this was done. "The thoushand gone! every
+rag! and" (glancing at his watch) "only two twenty-five! Won't it be
+rayther young, though, backin' such a run o' bad luck, and throwin' good
+money after bad, Mr. Harden?"
+
+"That's my affair, I fancy; what I want to know is whether you have got
+a few hundreds more, on the same terms--I mean, from the same lender.
+Hang it, say yes or no--can't you?"
+
+"Well, Mr. Harden, there's five hundred more--but 'twasn't expected
+you'd a' drew it so soon. How much do you say, Mr. Harden?"
+
+"I'll take it all," said Richard Arden. "I wish I could have it without
+these blackguards seeing."
+
+"They don't care, blesh ye! if you got it from the old boy himself. That
+_is_ a rum un!" There were pen and ink on a small table beside the wall,
+at which Mr. Levi began rapidly to fill in the blanks of a bill of
+exchange. "Why, there's not one o' them, almost, but takes a hundred now
+and then from me, when they runs out a bit too fast. You'd better shay
+one month."
+
+"Say two, like the other, and don't keep me waiting."
+
+"You'd better shay one--your friend will think you're going a bit too
+quick to the devil. Remember, as your proverb shays, 'taint the thing to
+kill the gooshe that laysh the golden eggs--shay one month."
+
+Levi's large black eye was fixed on him, and he added, "If you want it
+pushed on a bit when it comes due, there won't be no great trouble about
+it, I calculate."
+
+Richard Arden looked at the large fierce eyes that were silently fixed
+on him: one of those eyes winked solemnly and significantly.
+
+"Well, what way you like, only be quick," said Richard Arden.
+
+His new sheaf of cheques were quickly turned into counters; and, after
+various fluctuations, these counters followed the rest, and in the grey
+morning he left that haunt jaded and savage, with just fifteen pounds in
+his pocket, the wreck of the large sum which he had borrowed to restore
+his fortunes.
+
+It needs some little time to enable a man, who has sustained such a
+shock as Richard Arden had, to collect his thoughts and define the
+magnitude of his calamity. He let himself in by a latch-key: the grey
+light was streaming through the shutters, and turning the chintz pattern
+of his window-curtains here and there, in streaks, into transparencies.
+He went into his room and swallowed nearly a tumbler of brandy, then
+threw off his clothes, drank some more, and fell into a flushed stupor,
+rather than a sleep, and lay for hours as still as any dead man on the
+field of battle.
+
+Some four hours of this lethargy, and he became conscious, at intervals,
+of a sound of footsteps in his room. The shutters were still closed. He
+thought he heard a voice say, "Master Richard!" but he was too drowsy,
+still, to rouse himself.
+
+At length a hand was laid upon him, and a voice that was familiar to his
+ear repeated twice over, more urgently, "Master Richard! Master
+Richard!" He was now awake: very dimly, by his bedside, he saw a figure
+standing. Again he heard the same words, and wondered, for a few
+seconds, where he was.
+
+"That's Crozier talking," said Richard.
+
+"Yes, Sir," said Crozier, in a low tone; "I'm here half-an-hour, Sir,
+waiting till you should wake."
+
+"Let in some light; I can't see you."
+
+Crozier opened half the window-shutter, and drew the curtain.
+
+"Are ye ailin', Master Richard--are ye bad, Sir?"
+
+"Ailing--yes, I'm bad enough, as you say--I'm miserable. I don't know
+where to turn or what to do. Hold my coat while I count what's in the
+pocket. If my father, the old scoundrel----"
+
+"Master Richard, don't ye say the like o' that no more; all's over, this
+morning, wi' the old master--Sir Reginald's dead, Sir," said the old
+follower, sternly.
+
+"Good God!" cried Richard, starting up in his bed and staring at old
+Crozier with a frightened look.
+
+"Ay, Sir," said the old servant, in a low stern tone, "he's gone at
+last: he was took just a quarter past five this mornin', by the clock at
+Mortlake, about four minutes before St. Paul's chimed the quarter. The
+wind being southerly, we heard the chimes. We thought he was all right,
+and I did not leave him until half-past twelve o'clock, having given him
+his drops, and waited till he went asleep. It was about three he rang
+his bell, and in I goes that minute, and finds him sitting up in his
+bed, talking quite silly-like about old Wainbridge, the groom, that's
+dead and buried, away in Skarkwynd Churchyard, these thirty year."
+
+Crozier paused here. He had been crying hours ago, and his eyes and nose
+still showed evidences of that unbecoming weakness. Perhaps he expected
+Richard, now Sir Richard Arden, to say something, but nothing came.
+
+"'Tis a change, Sir, and I feel a bit queer; and as I was sayin', when I
+went in, 'twas in his head he saw Tom Wainbridge leadin' a horse saddled
+and all into the room, and standin' by the side of his bed, with the
+bridle in his hand, and holdin' the stirrup for him to mount. 'And what
+the devil brings Wainbridge here, when he has his business to mind in
+Yorkshire? and where could he find a horse like that beast? He's waiting
+for me; I can hear the roarin' brute, and I see Tom's parchment face at
+the door--_there_,' he'd say, 'and _there_--where are your eyes,
+Crozier, can't you see, man? Don't be afraid--can't you look--and don't
+you hear him? Wainbridge's old nonsense.' And he'd laugh a bit to
+himself every now and again, and then he'd whimper to me, looking a bit
+frightened, 'Get him away, Crozier, will you? He's annoying me, he'll
+have me out,' and this sort o' talk he went on wi' for full twenty
+minutes. I rang the bell to Mrs. Tansey's room, and when she was come we
+agreed to send in the brougham for the doctor. I think he was a bit
+wrong i' the garrets, and we were both afraid to let it be no longer."
+
+Crozier paused for a moment, and shook his head.
+
+"We thought he was goin' asleep, but he wasn't. His eyes was half shut,
+and his shoulders against the pillows, and Mrs. Tansey was drawin' the
+eider-down coverlet over his feet, softly, when all on a sudden--I
+thought he was laughin'--a noise like a little flyrin' laugh, and then a
+long, frightful yellock, that would make your heart tremble, and awa'
+wi' him into one o' them fits, and so from one into another, until when
+the doctor came he said he was in an apoplexy; and so, at just a quarter
+past five the auld master departed. And I came in to tell you, Sir; and
+have you any orders to give me, Master Richard? and I'm going on, I take
+it you'd wish me, to your uncle, Mr. David, and little Miss Alice, that
+han't heard nout o' the matter yet."
+
+"Yes, Crozier--go," said Richard Arden, staring on him as if his soul
+was in his eyes; and, after a pause, with an effort, he added--"I'll
+call there as I go on to Mortlake; tell them I'll see them on my way."
+
+When Crozier was gone, Richard Arden got up, threw his dressing-gown
+about him, and sat on the side of his bed, feeling very faint. A sudden
+gush of tears relieved the strange paroxysm. Then come other emotions
+less unselfish. He dressed hastily. He was too much excited to make a
+breakfast. He drank a cup of coffee, and drove to Uncle David's house.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XLIX.
+
+VOWS FOR THE FUTURE.
+
+
+As he drove to his uncle's house, he was tumbling over facts and
+figures, in the endeavour to arrive at some conclusion as to how he
+stood in the balance-sheet that must now be worked out. What a thing
+that _post-obit_ had turned out! Those cursed Jews who had dealt with
+him must have known ever so much more about his poor father's health
+than he did. They are such fellows to worm out the secrets of a
+family--all through one's own servants, and doctors, and apothecaries.
+The spies! They stick at nothing--such liars! How they pretended to wish
+to be off! What torture they kept him in! How they talked of the old
+man's nervous fibre, and pretended to think he would live for twenty
+years to come!
+
+"And the deed was not six weeks signed when I found out he had those
+epileptic fits, and they knew it, the wretches!--and so I've been hit
+for that huge sum of money. And there is interest, two years' nearly, on
+that other charge, and that swindle that half ruined me on the Derby.
+And there are those bills that Levi has got, but that is only fifteen
+hundred, and I can manage that any time, and a few other trifles."
+
+And he thought what yeoman's service Longcluse might and _would_ have
+rendered him in this situation. How translucent the whole opaque
+complexity would have become in a hour or two, and at what easy interest
+he would have procured him funds to adjust these complications! But
+here, too, fortune had dealt maliciously. What a piece of cross-grained
+luck that Longcluse should have chosen to fall in love with Alice! And
+now they two had exchanged, not shots, but insults, harder to forgive.
+And that officious fool, Vandeleur, had laid him open to a more direct
+and humiliating affront than had before befallen him. Henceforward,
+between him and Longcluse no reconciliation was possible. Fiery and
+proud by nature was this Richard Arden, and resentful. In Yorkshire the
+family had been accounted a vindictive race. I don't know. I have only
+to do with those inheritors of the name who figure in this story.
+
+There remained an able accountant and influential man on 'Change, on
+whose services he might implicitly reckon--his uncle, David Arden. But
+he was separated from him by the undefinable chasm of years--the want of
+sympathy, the sense of authority. He would take not only the management
+of this financial adjustment, but the carriage of the future of this
+young, handsome, full-blooded fellow, who had certainly no wish to take
+unto himself a Mentor.
+
+Here have been projected on this page, as in the disk of an oxy-hydrogen
+microscope, some of the small and active thoughts that swarmed almost
+unsuspected in Richard Arden's mind. But it would be injustice to Sir
+Richard Arden (we may as well let him enjoy at once the title which
+stately Death has just presented him with--it seems to me a mocking
+obeisance) to pretend that higher and kinder feelings had no place in
+his heart.
+
+Suddenly redeemed from ruin, suddenly shocked by an awful spectacle, a
+disturbance of old associations where there had once been kindness,
+where estrangements and enmity had succeeded: there was in all this
+something moving and agitating, that stirred his affections strangely
+when he saw his sister.
+
+David Arden had left his house an hour before the news reached its
+inmates. Sir Richard was shown to the drawing-room, where there was no
+one to receive him; and in a minute Alice, looking very pale and
+miserable, entered, and running up to him, without saying a word threw
+her arms about his neck, and sobbed piteously.
+
+Her brother was moved. He folded her to his heart. Broken and hurried
+words of tenderness and affection he spoke, as he kissed her again and
+again. Henceforward he would live a better and wiser life. He had tasted
+the dangers and miseries that attend on play. He swore he would give it
+up. He had done with the follies of his youth. But for years he had not
+had a home. He was thrown into the thick of temptation. A fellow who had
+no home was so likely to amuse himself with play; and he had suffered
+enough to make him hate it, and she should see what a brother he would
+be, henceforward, to her.
+
+Alice's heart was bursting with self-reproach; she told Richard the
+whole story of her trouble of the day before, and the circumstances of
+her departure from Mortlake, all in an agony of tears; and declared, as
+young ladies often have done before, that she never could be happy
+again.
+
+He was disappointed, but generous and gentle feelings had been stirred
+within him.
+
+"Don't reproach yourself, darling; that is mere folly. The entire
+responsibility of your leaving Mortlake belongs to my uncle; and about
+Wynderbroke, you must not torment yourself; you had a right to a voice
+in the matter, surely, and I daresay you would not be happier now if you
+had been less decided, and found yourself at this moment committed to
+marry him. I have more reason to upbraid myself, but I'm sure I was
+right, though I sometimes lost my temper; I know my Uncle David thinks I
+was right; but there is no use now in thinking more about it; right or
+wrong, it is all over, and I won't distract myself uselessly. I'll try
+to be a better brother to you than I ever _have_ been; and I'll make
+Mortlake our head-quarters: or we'll live, if you like it better, at
+Arden Manor, or I'll go abroad with you. I'll lay myself out to make you
+happy. One thing I'm resolved on, and that is to give up play, and find
+some manly and useful pursuit; and you'll see I'll do you some credit
+yet, or at least, as a country squire, do some little good, and be not
+quite useless in my generation; and I'll do my best, dear Alice, to make
+you a happy home, and to be all that I ought to be to you, my darling."
+
+Very affectionately he both spoke and felt, and left Alice with some of
+her anxieties lightened, and already more interest in the future than
+she had thought possible an hour before.
+
+Richard Arden had a good deal upon his hands that morning. He had money
+liabilities that were urgent. He had to catch his friend Mardykes at his
+lodgings, and get him to see the people in whose betting-books he stood
+for large figures, to represent to them what had happened, and assure
+them that a few days should see all settled. Then he had to go to the
+office of his father's attorney, and learn whether a will was
+forthcoming; then to consult with his own attorney, and finally to
+follow his uncle, David Arden, from place to place, and find him at last
+at home, and talk over details, and advise with him generally about many
+things, but particularly about the further dispositions respecting the
+funeral; for a little note from his Uncle David had offered to relieve
+him of the direction of those hateful details transacted with the
+undertaker, which every one is glad to depute.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER L.
+
+UNCLE DAVID'S SUSPICIONS.
+
+
+Mr. David Arden, therefore, had made a call at the office of Paller,
+Crapely, Plumes, and Co., eminent undertakers in the most
+gentleman-like, and, indeed, aristocratic line of business, with immense
+resources at command, and who would undertake to bury a duke, with all
+the necessary draperies, properties, and _dramatis personæ_, if
+required, before his grace was cold in his bed.
+
+A little dialogue occurred here, which highly interested Uncle David. A
+stout gentleman, with a muddy and melancholy countenance, and a sad
+suavity of manner, and in the perennial mourning that belongs to
+gentlemen of his doleful profession, presents himself to David Arden, to
+receive his instructions respecting the deceased baronet's obsequies.
+The top of his head is bald, his face is furrowed and baggy; he looks
+fully sixty-five, and he announces himself as the junior partner, Plumes
+by name.
+
+Having made his suggestions and his notes, and taken his order for a
+strictly private funeral in the neighbourhood of London, Mr. Plumes
+thoughtfully observes that he remembers the name well, having been
+similarly employed for another member of the same family.
+
+"Ah! How was that? How long ago?" asked Mr. Arden.
+
+"About twenty years, Sir."
+
+"And where was that funeral?"
+
+"The same place, Sir, Mortlake."
+
+"Yes, I know that was----?"
+
+"It was Mr. 'Enry, or rayther 'Arry Harden. We 'ad to take back the
+plate, Sir, and change 'Enry to 'Arry--'Arry being the name he was
+baptised by. There was a hinquest connected with that horder."
+
+"So there was, Mr. Plumes," said Uncle David with awakened interest, for
+that gentleman spoke as if he had something more to say on the subject.
+
+"There was, Sir,--and it affected me very sensibly. My niece, Sir, had a
+wery narrow escape."
+
+"Your niece! Really? How could that be?"
+
+"There was a Mister Yelland Mace, Sir, who paid his haddresses to her,
+and I do believe, Sir, she rayther liked him. I don't know, I'm sure,
+whether he was serious in 'is haddresses, but it looked very like as if
+he meant to speak; though I do suppose he was looking 'igher for a wife.
+Well, he was believed to 'ave 'ad an 'and in that 'orrible business."
+
+"I know--so he undoubtably had--and the poor young lady, I suppose, was
+greatly shocked and distressed."
+
+"Yes, Sir, and she died about a year after."
+
+David Arden expressed his regret, and then he asked--
+
+"You have often seen that man, Yelland Mace?"
+
+"Not often, Sir."
+
+"You remember his face pretty well, I daresay?"
+
+"Well, no, Sir, not very well. It is a long time."
+
+"Do you recollect whether there was anything noticeable in his
+features?--had he, for instance, a remarkably prominent nose?"
+
+"I don't remember that he 'ad, Sir. I rather think not, but I can't by
+no means say for certain. It is a long time, and I 'aven't much of a
+memory for faces. There is a likeness of him among my poor niece's
+letters."
+
+"Really? I should be so much obliged if you would allow me to see it."
+
+"It is at 'ome, Sir, but I shall be 'ome to dinner before I go out to
+Mortlake; and, if you please, I shall borrow it of my sister, and take
+it with me."
+
+This offer David Arden gladly accepted.
+
+When the events were recent, he could have no difficulty in identifying
+Yelland Mace, by the evidence of fifty witnesses, if necessary. But it
+was another thing now. The lapse of time had made matters very
+different. It was recent impressions of a vague kind about Mr. Longcluse
+that had revived the idea, and prompted a renewal of the search. Martha
+Tansey was aged now, and he had misgivings about the accuracy of her
+recollection. Was it possible, after all, that he was about to see that
+which would corroborate his first vague suspicions?
+
+Sir Richard had a busy and rather harassing day, the first of his
+succession to an old title and a new authority, and he was not sorry
+when it closed. He had stolen about from place to place in a hired cab,
+and leaned back to avoid a chance recognition, like an absconding
+debtor; and had talked with the people whom he was obliged to call on
+and see, in low and hurried colloquy, through the window of the cab. And
+now night had fallen, the lamps were glaring, and tired enough he
+returned to his lodgings, sent for his tailor, and arranged promptly
+about the
+
+    "----inky cloak, good mother,
+     And customary suits of solemn black;"
+
+and that done, he wrote two or three notes to kindred in Yorkshire, with
+whom it behoved him to stand on good terms; and then he determined to
+drive out to Mortlake Hall. An unpleasant mixture of feelings was in his
+mind as he thought of that visit, and the cold tenant of the ancestral
+house, whom in the grim dignity of death, it would not have been seemly
+to leave for a whole day and night unvisited. It was to him a repulsive
+visit, but how could he postpone it?
+
+Behold him, then, leaning back in his cab, and driving through glaring
+lamps, and dingy shops, and narrow ill-thriven streets, eastward and
+northward; and now, through the little antique village, with trembling
+lights, and by the faded splendours of the "Guy of Warwick." And he sat
+up and looked out of the windows, as they entered the narrow road that
+is darkened by the tall overhanging timber of Mortlake grounds.
+
+Now they are driving up the broad avenue, with its noble old trees
+clumped at either side; and with a shudder Sir Richard Arden leans back
+and moves no more until the cab pulls up at the door-steps, and the
+knock sounds through hall and passages, which he dared not so have
+disturbed, uninvited, a day or two before. Crozier ran down the steps to
+greet Master Richard.
+
+"How are you, old Crozier?" he said, shaking hands from the cab-window,
+for somehow he liked to postpone entering the house as long as he could.
+"I could not come earlier. I have been detained in town all day by
+business, of various kinds, connected with this." And he moved his hand
+toward the open hall-door, with a gloomy nod or two. "How is Martha?"
+
+"Tolerable, Sir, thankye, considerin'. It's a great upset to her."
+
+"Yes, poor thing, of course. And has Mr. Paller been here--the person
+who is to--to----"
+
+"The undertaker? Yes, Sir, he was here at two o'clock, and some of the
+people has been busy in the room, and his men has come out again with
+the coffin, Sir. I think they'll soon be leaving; they've been here a
+quarter of an hour, and--if I may make bold to ask, Sir,--what day will
+the funeral be?"
+
+"I don't know myself, Crozier; I must settle that with my uncle. He said
+he thought he would come here himself this evening, at about nine, and
+it must be very near that now. Where is Martha?"
+
+"In her room, Sir, I think."
+
+"I won't see her there. Ask her to come to the oak-room."
+
+Richard got out and entered the house of which he was now the master,
+with an oppressive misgiving.
+
+The oak-parlour was a fine old room, and into the panels were set four
+full-length portraits. Two of these were a lady and gentleman, in the
+costume of the beginning of Charles the Second's reign. The lady held an
+Italian greyhound by a blue ribbon, and the gentleman stood booted for
+the field, and falcon on fist. It struck Richard, for the first time,
+how wonderfully like Alice that portrait of the beautiful lady was. He
+raised the candle to examine it. There was a story about this lady. She
+had been compelled to marry the companion portrait, with the hawk on his
+hand, and those beautiful lips had dropped a curse, in her despair, when
+she was dying, childless, and wild with grief. She prayed that no
+daughter of the house of Arden might ever wed the man of her love, and
+it was said that a fatality had pursued the ladies of that family, which
+looked like the accomplishment of the malediction; and a great deal of
+curious family lore was connected with this legend and portrait.
+
+As he held the candle up to this picture, still scanning its features,
+the door slowly opened, and Martha Tansey, arrayed in a black silk dress
+of a fashion some twenty years out of date, came in. He set down the
+candle, and took the old woman's hand, and greeted her very kindly.
+
+"How's a' wi' you, Master Richard? A dowly house ye've come too. Ye
+didna look to see this sa soon?"
+
+"Very sudden, Martha--awfully sudden. I could not let the day pass
+without coming out to see you."
+
+"Not me, Master Richard, but to ha'e a last look at the face of the
+father that begot ye. He'll be shrouded and coffined by this time--the
+light 'ill not be lang on that face. The lid will be aboon it and
+screwed down to-morrow, I dar' say. Ay, there goes the undertaker's men;
+and there's a man from Mr. Paller--Mr. Plumes is his name--that says
+he'll stay till your Uncle David comes, for he told him he had something
+very particular to say to him; and I desired him to wait in my room
+after his business about the poor master was over; and the a'ad things
+is passin' awa' and it's time auld Martha was fittin' herself."
+
+"Don't say that, Martha, unless you would have me think you expect to
+find me less kind than my father was."
+
+"There's good and there's bad in every one, Master Richard. Ye can't
+take it in meal and take it in malt. A bit short-waisted he was, there's
+no denyin', and a sharp word now and again; but none so hard to live wi'
+as many a one that was cooler-tempered, and more mealy-mouthed; and I
+think ye were o'er hard wi' him, Master Richard. Ye should have opened
+the estate. It was that killed him," she continued considerately. "Ye
+broke his heart, Master Richard; he was never the same man after he fell
+out wi' you."
+
+"Some day, Martha, you'll learn all about it," said he gently. "It was
+no fault of mine--ask my Uncle David. I'm not the person to persuade
+you; and, beside, I have not courage to talk over that cruel quarrel
+now."
+
+"Come and see him," said the old woman grimly, taking up the candle.
+
+"No, Martha, no; set it down again--I'll not go."
+
+"And when will you see him?"
+
+"Another time--not now--I can't."
+
+"He's laid in his coffin now; they'll be out again in the mornin'. If
+you don't see him now, ye'll never see him; and what will the folk down
+in Yorkshire say, when it's told at Arden Court that Master Richard
+never looked on his dead father's face, nor saw more of him after his
+flittin' than the plate on his coffin. By Jen! 'twill stir the blood o'
+the old tenants and gar them clench their fists and swear, I warrant, at
+the very sound o' yer name; for there never was an Arden died yet, at
+Arden Court, but he was waked, and treated wi' every respect, and
+visited by every living soul of his kindred, for ten mile round."
+
+"If you think so, Martha, say no more. I'll--go as well now as another
+time--and, as you say, sooner or later it must be done."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER LI.
+
+THE SILHOUETTE.
+
+
+"He's lookin' very nice and like himself," mumbled the old woman, as she
+led the way.
+
+At the open door of Sir Reginald's room stood Mr. Plumes, in
+professional black with a pensive and solemn countenance, intending
+politely to do the honours.
+
+"Thank you, Sir," said the old woman graciously, taking the lead in the
+proceedings. "This is the young master, and he won't mind troublin' you,
+Mr. Plumes. If you please to go to my room, Sir, the third door on the
+right, you'll find tea made, Sir; and Mr. Crozier, I think, will be
+there."
+
+And having thus disposed of the stranger, they entered the room, in
+which candles were burning.
+
+Sir Reginald had, as it were, already made dispositions for his final
+journey. He had left his bed, and lay instead, in the handsomely
+upholstered coffin which stood on tressels beside it. Thin and fixed
+were the cold, earthly features that looked upward from their white
+trimmings. Sir Richard Arden checked his step and held his breath as he
+came in sight of these stern lineaments. The pale light that surrounds
+the dead face of the martyr was wanting here: in its stead, upon selfish
+lines and contracted features, a shadow stood.
+
+Mrs. Tansey, with a feather-brush placed near, drove away a fly that was
+trying to alight on the still face.
+
+"I mind him when he was a boy," she said, with a groan and a shake of
+the head. "There was but six years between us, and the life that's ended
+is but a dream, all like yesterday--nothing to look back on; and, I'm
+sure, if there's rest for them that has been troubled on earth, he's
+happy now: a blessed change 'twill be."
+
+"Yes, Martha, we all have our troubles."
+
+"Ay, it's well to know that in time: the young seldom does," she
+answered sardonically.
+
+"I'll go, Martha. I'll return to the oak-room. I wish my uncle were
+come."
+
+"Well, you have took your last look, and that's but decent, and---- Dear
+me, Master Richard, you do look bad!"
+
+"I feel a little faint, Martha. I'll go there; and will you give me a
+glass of sherry?"
+
+He waited at the room door, while Martha nimbly ran to her room, and
+returned with some sherry and a wine-glass. He had hardly taken a glass,
+and begun to feel himself better, when David Arden's step was heard
+approaching from the hall. He greeted his nephew and Martha in a hushed
+undertone, as he might in church; and then, as people will enter such
+rooms, he passed in and crossed with a very soft tread, and said a word
+or two in whispers. You would have thought that Sir Reginald was tasting
+the sweet slumber of precarious convalescence, so tremendously does
+death simulate sleep.
+
+When Uncle David followed his nephew to the oak-room, where the servants
+had now placed candles, he appeared a little paler, as a man might who
+had just witnessed an operation. He looked through the unclosed shutters
+on the dark scene; then he turned, and placed his hand kindly on his
+nephew's arm, and said he, with a sigh--
+
+"Well, Dick, you're the head of the house now; don't run the old ship on
+the rocks. Remember, it is an old name, and, above all, remember, that
+Alice is thrown upon your protection. Be a good brother, Dick. She is a
+true-hearted, affectionate creature: be you the same to her. You can't
+do your duty by her unless you do it also by yourself. For the first
+time in your life, a momentous responsibility devolves upon you. In
+God's name, Dick, give up play and do your duty!"
+
+"I have learned a lesson, uncle; I have not suffered in vain. I'll never
+take a dice-box in my hand again; I'd as soon take a burning coal. I
+shall never back a horse again while I live. I am quite cured, thank
+God, of that madness. I sha'n't talk about it; let time declare how I am
+changed."
+
+"I am glad to hear you speak so. You are right, that is the true test.
+Spoken like a man!" said Uncle David, and he took his hand very kindly.
+
+The entrance of Martha Tansey at this moment gave the talk a new turn.
+
+"By-the-bye, Martha," said he, "has Mr. Plumes come? He said he would be
+here at eight o'clock."
+
+"He's waitin', Sir; and 'twas to tell you so I came in. Shall I tell him
+to come here?"
+
+"I asked him to come, Dick; I knew you would allow me. He has some
+information to give me respecting the wretch who murdered your poor
+Uncle Harry."
+
+"May I remain?" asked Richard.
+
+"Do; certainly."
+
+"Then, Martha, will you tell him to come here?" said Richard, and in
+another minute the sable garments and melancholy visage of Mr. Plumes
+entered the room slowly.
+
+When Mr. Plumes was seated, he said, with much deliberation, in reply to
+Uncle David's question--
+
+"Yes, Sir, I have brought it with me. You said, I think, you wished me
+to fetch it, and as my sister was at home, she hobleeged me with a loan
+of it. It belonged, you may remember, to her deceased daughter--my
+niece. I have got it in my breast-pocket; perhaps you would wish me now
+to take it hout?"
+
+"I'm most anxious to look at it," said Uncle David, approaching with
+extended hand. "You said you had seen him; was this a good likeness?"
+
+These questions and the answers to them occupied the time during which
+Mr. Plumes, whose proceedings were slow as a funeral, disengaged the
+square parcel in question from his pocket, and then went on to loosen
+the knots in the tape which tied it up, and afterwards to unfold the
+wrappings of paper which enveloped it.
+
+"I don't remember him well enough, only that he was good-looking. And
+this was took by machinery, and it _must_ be like. The ball and socket
+they called it. It must be hexact, Sir."
+
+So saying, he produced a square black leather case, which being opened
+displayed a black profile, the hair and whiskers being indicated by a
+sort of gilding which, laid upon sable, reminded one of the decorations
+of a coffin, and harmonised cheerfully with Mr. Plumes' profession.
+
+"Oh!" exclaimed Uncle David with considerable disappointment, "I thought
+it was a miniature; this is only a silhouette; but you are sure it _is_
+the profile of Yelland Mace?"
+
+"That is certain, Sir. His name is on the back of it, and she kept it,
+poor young woman! with a lock of his 'air and some hother relics in her
+work-box."
+
+By this time Uncle David was examining it with deep interest. The
+outline demolished all his fancies about Mr. Longcluse. The nose, though
+delicately formed, was decidedly the ruling feature of the face. It was
+rather a parrot face, but with a good forehead. David Arden was
+disappointed. He handed it to his nephew.
+
+"That is a kind of face one would easily remember," he observed to
+Richard as he looked. "It is not like any one that I know, or _ever_
+knew."
+
+"No," said Richard; "I don't recollect any one the least like it." And
+he replaced it in his uncle's hand.
+
+"We are very much obliged to you, Mr. Plumes; it was your mention of it
+this morning, and my great anxiety to discover all I can respecting that
+man, Yelland Mace, that induced me to make the request. Thank you very
+much," said old Mr. Arden, placing the profile in the fat fingers of Mr.
+Plumes. "You must take a glass of sherry before you leave. And have you
+got a cab to return in?"
+
+"The men are waiting for me, I thank you, and I have just 'ad my tea,
+Sir, much obleeged, and I think I had best return to town, gentlemen, as
+I have some few words to say to-night to our Mr. Trimmer; so, with your
+leave, gentlemen, I'll wish you good-night."
+
+And with a solemn bow, first to Mr. Arden, then to the young scion of
+the house, and lastly a general bow to both, that grave gentleman
+withdrew.
+
+"I could see no likeness in that thing to any one," repeated old Mr.
+Arden. "Mr. Longcluse is a friend of yours?" he added a little abruptly.
+
+"I can't say he was a friend; he was an acquaintance, but even that is
+quite ended."
+
+"What! you don't know him any longer?"
+
+"No."
+
+"You're quite sure!"
+
+"Perfectly."
+
+"Then I may say I'm very glad. I don't like him, and I can't say why;
+but I can't help connecting him with your poor uncle's death. I must
+have dreamed about him and forgot the dream, while the impression
+continues; for I cannot discover in any fact within my knowledge the
+slightest justification for the unpleasant persuasion that constantly
+returns to my mind. I could not trace a likeness to him in that
+silhouette."
+
+He looked at his nephew, who returned his steady look with one of utter
+surprise.
+
+"Oh, dear! no. There is not a vestige of a resemblance," said Richard.
+"I know his features very well."
+
+"No," said Uncle David, lowering his eyes to the table, on which he was
+tapping gently with his fingers; "no, there certainly is not--not any.
+But I can't dismiss the suspicion. I can't get it out of my head,
+Richard, and yet I can't account for it," he said, raising his eyes to
+his nephew's. "There is something in it; I could not else be so
+haunted."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER LII.
+
+MR. LONGCLUSE EMPLOYED.
+
+
+The funeral was not to be for some days, and then to be conducted in the
+quietest manner possible. Sir Reginald was to be buried in a small vault
+under the little church, whose steeple cast its shadow every sunny
+evening across the garden-hedges of the "Guy of Warwick," and could be
+seen to the left from the door of Mortlake Hall, among distant trees.
+Further it was settled by Richard Arden and his uncle, on putting their
+heads together, that the funeral was to take place after dark in the
+evening; and even the undertaker's people were kept in ignorance of the
+exact day and hour.
+
+In the meantime, Mr. Longcluse did not trouble any member of the family
+with his condolences or inquiries. As a raven perched on a solitary
+bough surveys the country round, and observes many things--very little
+noticed himself--so Mr. Longcluse made his observations from his own
+perch and in his own way. Perhaps he was a little surprised on receiving
+from Lady May Penrose a note, in the following terms:--
+
+    "DEAR MR. LONGCLUSE,
+
+    "I have just heard something that troubles me; and as I know of no
+    one who would more readily do me a kindness, I hope you won't think
+    me very troublesome if I beg of you to make me a call to-morrow
+    morning, at any time before twelve.
+
+    "Ever yours sincerely,
+    "MAY PENROSE."
+
+Mr. Longcluse smiled darkly, as he read this note again. "It is better
+to be sought after than to offer one's self."
+
+Accordingly, next morning, Mr. Longcluse presented himself in Lady May's
+drawing-room; and after a little waiting, that good-natured lady entered
+the room. She liked to make herself miserable about the troubles of her
+friends, and on this occasion, on entering the door, she lifted her
+hands and eyes, and quickened her step towards Mr. Longcluse, who
+advanced a step or two to meet her.
+
+"Oh! Mr. Longcluse, it is so kind of you to come," she exclaimed; "I am
+in such a sea of troubles! and you are such a friend, I know I may tell
+you. You have heard, of course, of poor Reginald's death. How horribly
+sudden!--shocking! and dear Alice is so broken by it! He had been, the
+day before, so cross--poor Reginald, everybody knows he had a temper,
+poor old soul!--and had made himself so disagreeable to her, and now she
+is quite miserable, as if it had been her fault. But no matter; it's not
+about that. Only do you happen to know of people--bankers or
+something--called Childers and Ballard?"
+
+"Oh! dear, yes; Childers and Ballard; they are City people, on
+'Change--stockbrokers. They are people you can quite rely on, so far as
+their solvency is concerned."
+
+"Oh! it isn't that. They have not been doing any business for me. It is
+a very unpleasant thing to speak about, even to a kind friend like you;
+but I want you to advise what is best to be done; and to ask you, if it
+is not very unreasonable, to use any influence you can--without trouble,
+of course, I mean--to prevent anything so distressing as may possibly
+happen."
+
+"You have only to say, dear Lady May, what I can do. I am too happy to
+place my poor services at your disposal."
+
+"I knew you would say so," said Lady May, again shaking hands in a very
+friendly way; "and I know what I say won't go any further. I mean, of
+course, that you will receive it entirely as a confidence."
+
+Mr. Longcluse was earnest in his assurances of secresy and good faith.
+
+"Well," said Lady May, lowering her voice, "poor Reginald, he was my
+cousin, you know, so it pains me to say it; but he was a good deal
+embarrassed; his estates were very much in debt. He owed money to a
+great many people, I believe."
+
+"Oh! Really?" Mr. Longcluse expressed his well-bred surprise very
+creditably.
+
+"Yes, indeed; and these people, Childers and Ballard, have something
+they call a judgment, I think. It is a kind of debt, for about twelve
+hundred pounds, which they say must be paid at once; and they vow that
+if it is not they will seize the coffin, and--and--all that, at the
+funeral. And David Arden is so angry, you can't think! and he says that
+the money is not owed to them, and that they have no right by law to do
+any such thing; and that from beginning to end it is a mere piece of
+extortion. And he won't hear of Richard's paying a farthing of it; and
+he says that Richard must bring a law-suit against them, for ever so
+much money, if they attempt anything of the kind, and that he's sure to
+win. But that is not what I am thinking of--it is about poor Alice, she
+is so miserable about the mere chance of its happening. The
+profanation--the fracas--all so shocking and so public--the funeral, you
+know."
+
+"You are quite sure of that, Lady May?" said Longcluse.
+
+"I heard it all as I tell you. My man of business told me; and I saw
+David Arden," she answered.
+
+"Oh! yes; but I mean, with respect to Miss Arden. Does _she_, in
+particular, so very earnestly desire intervention in this awkward
+business?"
+
+"Certainly; _only_ she--only Miss Arden--only Alice."
+
+He looked down in thought, and then again in her face, paler than usual.
+He had made up his mind.
+
+"I shall take measures," he said quietly. "I shall do everything--anything
+in my power. I shall even expose myself to the risk of insult,
+for her sake; only let it soften her. After I have done it,
+ask her, not before, to think mercifully of me."
+
+He was going.
+
+"Stay, Mr. Longcluse, just a moment. I don't know what I am to say to
+you; I am so much obliged. And yet how can I undertake that anything you
+do may affect other people as you wish?"
+
+"Yes, of course you are right; I am willing to take my chance of that.
+Only, dear Lady May, will you _write_ to her? All I plead for--and it is
+the _last_ time I shall sue to her for anything--is that my folly may be
+forgotten, and I restored to the humble privileges of an acquaintance."
+
+"But do you really wish me to write? I'll take an opportunity of
+speaking to her. Would not that be less formal?"
+
+"Perhaps so; but, forgive me, it would not answer. I beg of you to
+write."
+
+"But why do you prefer my writing?"
+
+"Because I shall then read her answer."
+
+"Then I must tell her that you are to read her reply."
+
+"Certainly, dear Lady May; I meant nothing else."
+
+"Well, Mr. Longcluse, there is no great difficulty."
+
+"I only make it a request, not a condition. I shall do my utmost in any
+case. Pray tell her that."
+
+"Yes, I'll write to her, as you wish it; or, at least, I'll ask her to
+put on paper what she desires me to say, and I'll read it to you."
+
+"That will answer as well. How can I thank you?"
+
+"There is no need of thanks. It is I who should thank you for taking, I
+am afraid, a great deal of trouble so promptly and kindly."
+
+"I know those people; they are cunning and violent, difficult to deal
+with, harder to trust," said Longcluse, looking down in thought. "I
+should be most happy to settle with them, and afterwards the executor
+might settle with me at his convenience; but, from what you say, Mr.
+David Arden and his nephew won't admit their claim. I don't believe such
+a seizure would be legal; but they are people who frequently venture
+illegal measures, upon the calculation that it would embarrass those
+against whom they adopt them more than themselves to bring them into
+court. It is not an easy card to play, you see, and they are people I
+hate; but I'll try."
+
+In another minute Mr. Longcluse had taken his leave, and was gone.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER LIII.
+
+THE NIGHT OF THE FUNERAL.
+
+
+Mr. Longcluse smiled as he sat in his cab, driving City-ward to the
+office of Messrs. Childers and Ballard.
+
+"How easily, now, one might get up a scene! Let Ballard, the monster--he
+would look the part well--with his bailiffs, seize the coffin and its
+precious burden in the church; and I, like Sir Edward Maulay, step forth
+from behind a pillar to stay the catastrophe. We could make a very fine
+situation, and I the hero; but the girl is too clever for that, and
+Richard as sharp--that is, as base--as I; knowing my objects, he would
+at once see a _plant_, and all would be spoiled. I shall do it in the
+least picturesque and most probable way. I should like to know the old
+housekeeper, Mrs. Tansey, better; I should like to be on good terms with
+her. An awkward meeting with Arden. What the devil do I care? besides,
+it is but one chance in a hundred. Yes, that is the best way. Can I see
+Mr. Ballard in his private room for a minute?" he added aloud, to the
+clerk, Mr. Blotter, behind the mahogany counter, who turned from his
+desk deferentially, let himself down from his stool, and stood attentive
+before the great man, with his pen behind his ear.
+
+"Certainly, Mr. Longcluse--certainly, Sir. Will you allow me, Sir, to
+conduct you?"
+
+Most men would have been peremptorily denied; the more fortunate would
+have had to await the result of an application to Mr. Ballard; but to
+Mr. Longcluse all doors flew open, and wherever he went, like
+Mephistopheles, the witches received him gaily, and the cat-apes did him
+homage.
+
+Without waiting for the assistance of Mr. Blotter, he ran up the
+back-stairs familiarly to see Mr. Ballard; and when Mr. Longcluse came
+down, looking very grave, Mr. Ballard, with the red face and lowering
+countenance which he could not put off, accompanied him down-stairs
+deferentially, and held open the office-door for him; and could not
+suppress his grins for some time in the consciousness of the honour he
+had received. Mr. Ballard hoped that the people over the way had seen
+Mr. Longcluse step from his door; and mentioned to everyone he talked to
+for a week, that he had Mr. Longcluse in his private office in
+consultation--first it was "for a quarter of an hour by the clock over
+the chimney," speedily it grew to "half-an-hour," and finally to
+"upwards of an hour, by----," with a stare in the face of the wondering,
+or curious, listener. And when clients looked in, in the course of the
+day, to consult him, he would say, with a wag of his head and a little
+looseness about minutes, "There was a man sitting here a minute ago, Mr.
+Longcluse--you may have met him as you came up the stairs--that could
+have given us a wrinkle about that;" or, "Longcluse, who was here
+consulting with me this morning, is clearly of opinion that Italian
+bonds will be down a quarter by settling day;" or, "Take my advice, and
+don't burn your fingers with those things, for it is possible something
+queer may happen any day after Wednesday. I had Longcluse--I daresay you
+may have heard of him," he parenthesised jocularly--"sitting in that
+chair to-day for very nearly an hour and a half, and that's a fellow one
+doesn't sit long with without hearing something worth remembering."
+
+From the attorney of Sir Richard Arden was served upon Messrs. Childers
+and Ballard, that day, a cautionary notice in very stern terms
+respecting their threatened attack upon Sir Reginald's funeral
+appointments and body; to which they replied in terms as sharp, and
+fixed three o'clock for payment of the bond.
+
+It was a very short mile from Mortlake to that small old church near the
+"Guy of Warwick," the bit of whose grey spire and the pinnacle of whose
+weather-cock you could see between the two great clumps of elms to the
+left. Sir Reginald, feet foremost, was to make this little journey that
+evening under a grove of black plumes, to the small, quiet room, which
+he was henceforward to share with his ancestor Sir Hugh Arden, of
+Mortlake Hall, Baronet, whose pillard monument decorated the little
+church.
+
+He lies now, soldered up and screwed down, in his strait bed, triply
+secured in lead, mahogany, and oak, and as safe as "the old woman of
+Berkeley" hoped to be from the grip of marauders. Once there, and the
+stone door replaced and mortared in, the irritable old gentleman might
+sleep the quietest sleep his body had ever enjoyed, to the crack of
+doom. The space was short, too, which separated that from the bed-room
+he was leaving; but the interval was "Jew's ground," trespassing on
+which, it was thought, he ran a great risk of being clutched by frantic
+creditors. A whisper of the danger had got into the housekeeper's room;
+and Crozier, whose north-country blood was hot, and temper warlike, had
+loaded the horse-pistols, and swore that he would shoot the first man
+who laid a hand unfriendly on the old master's coffin.
+
+There was an agitation simmering under the grim formalities and tip-toe
+treadings of the house of death. Martha Tansey grew frightened, angry as
+she was, and told Richard Arden that Crozier was "neither to hold nor to
+bind, and meant to walk by the hearse, and stand by the coffin till it
+was shut into the vault, with loaded pistols in his coat-pockets, and
+would make food for worms so sure as they villains dar'd to interrupt
+the funeral."
+
+Whereupon Richard saw Crozier, took the pistols from him, shook him very
+hard by the hand, for he liked him all the more, and told him that he
+would desire nothing better than their attempting to accomplish their
+threats, as he was well advised the law would make examples of them.
+Then he went up-stairs, and saw Alice, and he could not help thinking
+how her black crapes became her. He kissed her, and, sitting down beside
+her, said,--
+
+"Martha Tansey says, darling, that you are unhappy about something she
+has been telling you concerning this miserable funeral. She ought not to
+have alarmed you about it. If I had known that you were frightened, or,
+in fact, knew anything about it, I should have made a point of coming
+out here yesterday, although I had fifty things to do."
+
+"I had a very good-natured note to-day, Dick, from Lady May," she
+said--"only a word, but very kindly intended." And she placed the open
+note in his fingers. When he had read it, Richard dropped the note on
+the table with a sneer.
+
+"That man, I suspect, is himself the secret promoter of this outrage--a
+very inexpensive way, this, of making character with Lady May, and
+placing you under an obligation--the scoundrel!"
+
+Looks and language of hatred are not very pretty at any time, but in the
+atmosphere of death they acquire a character of horror. Some momentary
+disturbance of this kind Richard may have seen in his sister's pale
+face, for he said,--
+
+"Don't mind what I say about that fellow, for I have no patience with
+myself for having ever known him."
+
+"I am so glad, Dick, you have dropped _that_ acquaintance!" said the
+young lady.
+
+"You have come at last to think as I do," said Richard.
+
+"It is not so much thinking as something different; the uncertainty
+about him--the appalling stories you have heard--and, oh! Richard, I had
+such a dream last night! I dreamt that Mr. Longcluse murdered you. You
+smile, but I could not have imagined anything that was not real, so
+vivid, and it was in this room, and--I don't know how, for I forget the
+beginning of it--the candles went out, and you were standing near the
+door talking to me, and bright moonlight was at the window, and showed
+you quite distinctly, and the open door; and Mr. Longcluse came from
+behind it with a pistol, and I tried to scream, but I couldn't. But you
+turned about and stabbed at him with a knife or something; it shone in
+the moonlight, and instantly there was a line of blood across his face;
+he fired, and I saw you fall back on the floor; I knew you were dead,
+and I awoke in terror. I thought I still saw his wicked face in the
+dark, quite white as it was in my dream. I screamed, and thought I was
+going mad."
+
+"It is only, darling, that all that has happened has made you nervous,
+and no wonder. Don't mind your dreams. Longcluse and I will never
+exchange a word more. We have turned our backs on one another, and our
+paths lie in very different directions."
+
+This was a melancholy and grizzly evening at Mortlake Hall. The
+undertakers were making some final and mysterious arrangements about the
+coffin, and stole in and out of the dead baronet's room, of which they
+had taken possession.
+
+Martha Tansey was alone in her room. It was a lurid sunset. Immense
+masses of black cloud were piled in the west, and from a long opening in
+that sombre screen, near the horizon, the expiring light glared like the
+red fire at night, through the clink of a smithy. Mrs. Tansey, dressed
+in deepest mourning, awaited the hour when she was to accompany the
+funeral of her old master.
+
+Without succumbing to the threat of Messrs. Childers and Ballard, David
+Arden and his nephew would have been glad to evade the risk of the
+fracas, which would no doubt have been a dismal scandal. Martha Tansey
+herself was not quite sure at what hour the funeral was to leave
+Mortlake. Opposite the window from which she looked, stand groups of
+gigantic elms that darken that side of the house, and underwood forms a
+thick screen among their trunks. Upon the edges of this foliage glinted
+that fierce farewell gleam, and among the glimmering leaves behind she
+thought she saw the sinister face of Mr. Longcluse looking toward her.
+Her fear and horror of Longcluse had increased, and if the very
+remembrance of him visited her with a sudden qualm, you may be sure that
+the sight of him, on this melancholy evening, was a shock. Alice's wild
+dream, which she had recounted to her, did not serve to dissociate him
+from the vague misgivings that his image called up. She stared aghast at
+the apparition--itself uncertain--while in the deep shadow, with a
+foreground of fiercely flashing leaves, had on a sudden looked at her,
+and before she could utter an exclamation it was gone.
+
+"I think it is my old eyes that plays me tricks, and my weary head
+that's 'wildered wi' all this dowly jummlement! What sud bring him
+there? It was never him I sid, only a fancy, and it's past and gone; and
+so, in the name of God, be it now, and ever, amen! For an evil sight it
+is, and bodes us no good. Who's there?"
+
+"It's me, Mrs. Tansey," said Crozier, who had just come in. "Master
+Richard desired me to tell you it is to be at ten o'clock to-night. He
+and Mr. David thinks that best, and you're to please not to mention it
+to no one."
+
+"Ten o'clock! That's very late, ain't it? No, surely, I'll not blab to
+no one; let him tell them when he sees fit. Martha Tansey's na that
+sort; she has had mony a secret to keep, and always the confidence o'
+the family, and 'twould be queer if she did not know to ho'd her tongue
+by this time. Sit ye down, Mr. Crozier--ye're wore off yer feet, man,
+like myself, ever since this happened--and rest a bit; the kettle's
+boilin', and ye'll tak' a cup o' tea. It's hours yet to ten o'clock."
+
+So Mr. Crozier, who was in truth a tired man, complied, and took his
+seat by the fire, and talked over Sir Reginald's money matters, his
+fits, and his death; and, finally, he fell asleep in his chair, having
+taken three cups of tea.
+
+The twilight had melted into darkness by this time, and the clear, cold
+moonlight was frosting all the landscape, and falling white and bright
+on the carriage-way outside, and casting on the floor the sharp shadows
+of the window-sashes, and giving the brilliant representations of the
+windows and the very veining of the panes of glass upon the white
+boards.
+
+As Martha sat by the table, with her eyes fixed, in a reverie, on one of
+these reflections upon the floor, the shadow of a man was suddenly
+presented upon it, and raising her eyes she saw a figure, black against
+the moonlight, beckoning gently to her to approach.
+
+Martha Tansey was an old lass of the Northumbrian counties, and had in
+her veins the fiery blood of the Border. The man wore a great-coat, and
+she could not discern his features; but he was tall and slight, and she
+was sure he was Mr. Longcluse. But "what dar' Longcluse say or do that
+she need fear?" And was not Crozier dozing there in the chair, "ready at
+call?"
+
+Up she got, and stalked boldly to the window, and, drawing near, she
+plainly saw, as the stranger drew himself up from the window-pane
+through which he had been looking, and the moonlight glanced on his
+features, that the face was indeed that of Mr. Longcluse. He looked very
+pale, and was smiling. He nodded to her in a friendly way once or twice
+as she approached. She stood stock-still about two yards away, and
+though she knew him well, she deigned no sign of recognition, for she
+had learned vaguely something of the feud that had sprung up between him
+and the young head of the family, and no daughter of the marches was
+ever a fiercer partisan than lean old Martha. He tapped at the window,
+still smiling, and beckoned her nearer. She did come a step nearer, and
+asked sternly--
+
+"What's your will wi' me?"
+
+"I'm Mr. Longcluse," he said, in a low tone, but with sharp and measured
+articulation. "I have something important to say. Open the window a
+little; I must not raise my voice, and I have this to give you." He held
+a note by the corner, and tapped it on the glass.
+
+Martha Tansey thought for a moment. It could not be a law-writ he had to
+serve; a rich man like him would never do that. Why should she not take
+his note, and hear what he had to say? She removed the bolt from the
+sash, and raised the window. There was not a breath stirring.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER LIV.
+
+AMONG THE TREES.
+
+
+When the old woman had raised the window, "Thanks," said Mr. Longcluse,
+almost in a whisper. "There are people, Lady May Penrose told me this
+morning, threatening to interrupt the funeral to-night. Of course you
+know--you must know."
+
+"I have heard o' some such matter, but 'tis nout to no one here. We
+don't care a snap for them, and if they try any sich lids, by my sang,
+we'll fit them. And I think, Sir, if ye've any thing o' consequence to
+tell to the family, ye'll not mind my saying 'twould be better ye sud
+go, like ither folk, to the hall-door, and leave your message there."
+
+"Your reproof would be better deserved, Mrs. Tansey," he answers
+good-humouredly, "if there had not been a difficulty. Mr. Richard Arden
+is not on pleasant terms with me, and my business will not afford to
+wait. I understand that Miss Arden has suffered much anxiety. It is
+entirely on her account that I have interested myself so much in it; and
+I don't see, Mrs. Tansey, why you and I should not be better friends,"
+he adds, extending his long slender hand gently towards her.
+
+She does not take it, but makes a stiff little curtsey instead, and
+draws back about six inches.
+
+Perhaps Mr. Longcluse had meditated making her a present, but her severe
+looks daunted him, and he thought that he might as well be a little
+better acquainted before he made that venture. He went on--
+
+"You have spoken very wisely, Mrs. Tansey; I am sure if these people do
+as they threaten, it will be contrary to law, and so, as you say, you
+may snap your fingers at them at last. But in the meantime they may
+enter the house and seize the coffin, or possibly cause some disgraceful
+interruption on the way. Lady May tells me that Miss Alice has suffered
+a great deal in consequence. Will you tell her to set her mind at ease?
+Pray assure her that I have seen the people, that I have threatened them
+into submission, that I am confident no such attempt will be made, and
+that should the slightest annoyance be attempted, Crozier has only to
+present the notice enclosed in this to the person offering it, and it
+will instantly be discontinued. I have done all this _entirely_ on her
+account, and pray lose no time in quieting her alarms. I am sure, Mrs.
+Tansey, you and I shall be better friends some day."
+
+Mrs. Tansey curtseyed again.
+
+"Pray take this note."
+
+She took it.
+
+"Give it to Crozier; and pray tell Miss Alice Arden, immediately, that
+she need have no fears. Good-night."
+
+And pale Mr. Longcluse, with his smile and his dismally dark gaze, and
+the strange suggestion of something undefined in look or tone, or air,
+that gradually overcame her more and more till she almost felt faint, as
+he smiled and murmured at the open window, in the moonlight, was gone.
+Then she stood with the note in her thin fingers, without moving, and
+called to Crozier with a shrill and earnest summons as one who has just
+had a frightful dream will call up a sleeper in the same room.
+
+Mr. Longcluse walks boldly and listlessly through this forbidden ground.
+He does not care who may meet him. Near the house, indeed, he would not
+like an encounter with Sir Richard Arden, because he knows that his
+being involved in a quarrel at such a moment, so near, especially with
+her brother, would not subserve his interests with Alice Arden.
+
+For hours he strode or loitered alone through the solitary woodlands.
+The moonlight was beautiful; the old trees stand mournful and black
+against the luminous sky; there is for him a fascination in the
+solitude, as his noiseless steps lead him alternately into the black
+shadow cast on the sward by the towering foliage, and into the clear
+moonlight, on dewy grass that shows grey in that cold brightness. He was
+in the excitement of hope and suspense. Things had looked very black,
+but a door had opened and light came out. Was it a dream?
+
+He leans with folded arms against the trunk of one of the trees that
+stand there, and from the slight elevation of the ground he can see the
+avenue under the boughs of the trees that flank it, and the chimneys of
+Mortlake Hall through the summits of the opening clumps. How melancholy
+and still the whole scene looks under that light!
+
+"When I succeed to all this, who will be mistress of it?" he says, with
+his strange smile, looking toward the summits of the chimneys, that
+indicate the site of the Hall. "No one knows who I am; who can tell my
+history? What about that opera-girl? What about my money?--money is
+alway exaggerated. How many humbugs! how many collapses! stealing into
+society by evasions, on false pretences, in disguise! The man in the
+mask, ha! ha! Really perhaps _two_ masks; not a bad fluke, that. The
+villain! You would not take a thousand pounds and know me--that is
+speaking boldly. A thousand pounds is still something in your book. You
+would not take it. The time will come, perhaps, when you'd _give_ a
+thousand--_ten_ thousand, if you had them--that I were your friend.
+Slanderous villain! To think of his talking so of me! The man in the
+mask trying to excite suspicion. My two masks are broken, and I all the
+better. By--! you shall meet me yet without a mask. Alice! will you be
+my idol? There is no neutrality with one like me in such a case. If I
+don't worship, I must _break_ the image. What a speck we stand on
+between the illimitable--the eternal past and the eternal future--always
+looking for a present that shall be something tangible; always finding
+it a mathematical point, _cujus nulla est pars_--the mere stand-point of
+a retrospect and a conjecture. Ha! There are the wheels: there goes the
+funeral!"
+
+He holds his breath, and watches. How interesting is everything
+connected with Alice! Slowly it passes along. Through one opening made
+by the havoc of a storm in the line of trees that form the avenue, he
+sees it plainly enough. A very scanty procession--the plumed hearse and
+three carriages, and a few persons walking beside. It passes. The great
+iron gate shrieks its long and dolorous note as it opened, and Longcluse
+heard it clang after the last carriage had passed, and with this
+farewell the old gate sent forth the dead master of Mortlake.
+
+"Farewell to Mortlake," murmured Longcluse, as he heard these sounds,
+with a shrug and his peculiar smile; "farewell, the lights, the
+claret-jug, the whist, and all the rest. You 'fear neither justices nor
+bailiffs,' as the song says, any longer. Very easy about your interest
+and your premiums; very careless who arrests you in your leaden vesture;
+and having paid, if nothing else, at least your beloved son's _post
+obit_. Courage, Sir Reginald! your earthly troubles are over. Here am I,
+erect as this tree, and as like to live my term out, with all that
+money, and no will made, and yet as tired as ever you were, and very
+willing, if the transaction were feasible, to die, and be bothered no
+more, instead of you."
+
+He sighs, and looks toward the house, and sighs again.
+
+"Does she relent? Was it not she who told Lady May to ask this service
+of me? If I could only be sure of that, I should stand here, this
+moment, the proudest man in England. I think I know myself--a very
+simple character; just two principles--love and malice; for the rest,
+unscrupulous. Mere cruelty gives me no pleasure: well for some people it
+don't. Revenge does make me happy: well for some people if it didn't.
+Except for those I love or those I hate, I live for none. The rest live
+for me. I owe them no more than I do this rotten stick. Let them rot and
+fatten my land; let them burn and bake my bread."
+
+With these words he kicked the fragments of a decayed branch that lay at
+his foot, and glided over the short grass, like a ghost, toward the
+gate.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER LV.
+
+MR. LONGCLUSE SEES A FRIEND.
+
+
+Sir Reginald Arden, then, is actually dead and buried, and is quite done
+with the pomps and vanities, the business and the miseries of life--dead
+as King Duncan, and cannot come out of his grave to trouble any one with
+protest or interference; and his son, Sir Richard, is in possession of
+the title, and seized of the acres, and uses them, without caring to
+trouble himself with conjectures as to what his father would have liked
+or abhorred.
+
+A week has passed since the funeral. Lady May has spent two days at
+Mortlake, and then gone down to Brighton. Alice does not leave Mortlake;
+her spirits do not rise. Kind Lady May has done her best to persuade her
+to come down with her to Brighton, but the perversity or the indolence
+of grief has prevailed, and Alice has grown more melancholy and
+self-upbraiding about her quarrel with her father, and will not be
+persuaded to leave Mortlake, the very worst place she could have chosen,
+as Lady May protests, for a residence during her mourning. Perhaps in a
+little while she may feel equal to the effort, but now she can't. She
+has quite lost her energy, and the idea of a place like Brighton, or
+even the chance of meeting people, is odious to her.
+
+"So, my dear, do what I may, there she will remain, in that _triste_
+place," says Lady May Penrose; "and her brother, Sir Richard, has so
+much business just now on his hands, that he is often away two or three
+days at a time, and then she stays moping there quite alone; and only
+that she likes gardening and flowers, and that kind of thing, I really
+think she would go melancholy mad. But you know that kind of folly can't
+go on always, and I am determined to take her away in a month or so.
+People at first are so morbid, and make recluses of themselves."
+
+Lady May stayed away at Brighton for about a week. On her return, Mr.
+Longcluse called to see her.
+
+"It was so kind of you, Mr. Longcluse, to take all the trouble you did
+about that terrible business! and it was perfectly successful. There was
+not the slightest unpleasantness."
+
+"Yes, I knew I had made anything of that kind all but impossible, but
+you are not to thank me. It made me only too happy to have an
+opportunity of being of any use--of relieving any anxiety."
+
+Longcluse sighed.
+
+"You have placed me, I know, under a great obligation, and if every one
+felt it as I do, you would have been thanked as you deserved before
+now."
+
+A little silence followed.
+
+"How is Miss Arden?" asked he in a low tone, and hardly raising his
+eyes.
+
+"Pretty well," she answered, a little dryly. "She's not very wise, I
+think, in planning to shut herself up so entirely in that melancholy
+place, Mortlake. You have seen it?"
+
+"Yes, more than once," he answered.
+
+Lady May appeared more embarrassed as Mr. Longcluse grew less so. They
+became silent again. Mr. Longcluse was the first to speak, which he did
+a little hesitatingly.
+
+"I was going to say that I hoped Miss Arden was not vexed at my having
+ventured to interfere as I did."
+
+"Oh! about that, of course there ought to be, as I said, but one
+opinion; but you know she is not herself just now, and I shall have,
+perhaps, something to tell by-and-by; and, to say truth--you won't be
+vexed, but I'm sorry I undertook to speak to her, for on that point I
+really don't quite understand her; and I am a little vexed--and--I'll
+talk to you more another time. I'm obliged to keep an appointment just
+now, and the carriage," she added, glancing at the _pendule_ on the
+bracket close by, "will be at the door in two or three minutes; so I
+must do a very ungracious thing, and say good-bye; and you must come
+again very soon--come to luncheon to-morrow--you must, really; I won't
+let you off, I assure you; there are two or three people coming to see
+me, whom I think you would like to meet."
+
+And, looking very good-natured, and a little flushed, and rather
+avoiding Mr. Longcluse's dark eyes, she departed.
+
+He had been thinking of paying Miss Maubray a visit, but he had not
+avowed, even to himself, how high his hopes had mounted; and here was,
+in Lady May's ominous manner and determined evasion, matter to disturb
+and even shock him. Instead, therefore, of pursuing the route he had
+originally designed, he strolled into the park, and under the shade of
+green boughs he walked, amid the twitter of birds and the prattle of
+children and nursery-maids, with despair at his heart, and a brain in
+chaos.
+
+As he sauntered, with downcast looks, under the trees, he came upon a
+humble Hebrew friend, Mr. Goldshed, a magnate in his own circle, but
+dwarfed into nothing beside the paragon of Mammon who walked on the
+grass, so unpretentiously, and with a face as anxious as that of the
+greengrocer who had just been supplicating the Jew for a renewal of his
+twenty-five pound bill.
+
+Mr. Goldshed came to a full stop a little way in advance of Mr.
+Longcluse, anxious to attract his attention. Mr. Longcluse did see him,
+as he sauntered on; and the fat old Jew, with the seedy velvet
+waistcoat, crossed with gold chains, and with an old-fashioned gold
+eye-glass dangling at his breast, first smiled engagingly, then looked
+reverential and solemn, and then smiled again with his great moist lips,
+and raised his hat. Longcluse gave him a sharp, short nod, and intended
+to pass him.
+
+"Will you shpare me one word, Mr. Lonclushe?"
+
+"Not to-day, Sir."
+
+"But I've been to your chambers, Sir, and to your houshe, Mr.
+Lonclushe."
+
+"You've wasted time--waste no more."
+
+"I do assure you, Shir, it'sh very urgent."
+
+"I don't care."
+
+"It'sh about that East Indian thing," and he lowered his voice as he
+concluded the sentence.
+
+"I don't care a pin, Sir."
+
+The amiable Mr. Goldshed hesitated; Mr. Longcluse passed him as if he
+had been a post. He turned, however, and walked a few steps by Mr.
+Longcluse's side.
+
+"And everything elshe is going sho vell; and it would look fishy, don't
+you think, to let thish thing go that way?"
+
+"Let them go--and go you with them. I wish the earth would swallow you
+all--scrip, bonds, children, and beldames." And if a stamp could have
+made the earth open at his bidding, it would have yawned wide enough at
+that instant. "If you follow me another step, by Heaven, I'll make it
+unpleasant to you."
+
+Mr. Longcluse looked so angry, that the Jew made him an unctuous bow,
+and remained fixed for a while to the earth, gazing after his patron
+with his hands in his pockets; and, with a gloomy countenance, he took
+forth a big cigar from his case, lighted a vesuvian, and began to smoke,
+still looking after Mr. Longcluse.
+
+That gentleman sauntered on, striking his stick now and then to the
+ground, or waving it over the grass in as many odd flourishes as a
+magician in a pantomime traces with his wand.
+
+If men are prone to teaze themselves with imaginations, they are equally
+disposed to comfort themselves with the same shadowy influences.
+
+"I'm so nervous about this thing, and so anxious, that I exaggerate
+everything that seems to tell against me. How did I ever come to love
+her so? And yet, would I kill that love if I could? Should I not kill
+myself first? I'll go and see Miss Maubray--I may hear something from
+her. Lady May _was_ embarrassed: what then? Were I a simple observer of
+such a scene in the case of another, I should say there was nothing in
+it more than this--that she had quite forgotten all about her promise.
+She never mentioned my name, and when the moment came, and I had come to
+ask for an account, she did not know what to say. It was well done, to
+see old Mrs. Tansey as I did. Lady May is so good-natured, and would
+feel her little neglect so much, and she will be sure to make it up.
+Fifty things may have prevented her. Yes, I'll go and hear what Miss
+Maubray has to say, and I'll lunch with Lady May to-morrow. I suspect
+that her visit to-day was to Mortlake."
+
+With these reflections, Mr. Longcluse's pace became brisker, and his
+countenance brightened.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER LVI.
+
+A HOPE EXPIRES.
+
+
+Mr. Longcluse knocked at Mr. David Arden's door. Yes, Miss Maubray was
+at home. He mounted the stairs, and was duly announced at the
+drawing-room door, and saw the brilliant young lady, who received him
+very graciously. She was alone.
+
+Mr. Longcluse began by saying that the weather was cooler, and the sun
+much less intolerable.
+
+"I wish we could say as much for the people, though, indeed, they are
+cool enough. There are some people called Tramways: he's a baronet--a
+very new one. Do you know anything of them? Are they people one can
+know?"
+
+"I only know that Lady Tramway chaperoned a very charming young lady,
+whom everybody is very glad to know, to Lady May's garden-party the
+other day, at Richmond."
+
+"Yes, very true; I'm that young lady, and that is the very reason I want
+to know. My uncle placed me in their hands."
+
+"Oh, he knows everybody."
+
+"Yes, and every one, which is quite another thing; and the woman has
+never given me an hour's quiet since. She presents me with bouquets, and
+fruit, and every imaginable thing I don't want, herself included, at
+least once a day; and I assure you I live in hourly terror of her
+getting into the drawing-room. You don't know anything about them?"
+
+"I only know that her husband made a great deal of money by a contract."
+
+"That sounds very badly, and she is such a vulgar woman?"
+
+"I know no more of them; but Lady May had her to Raleigh Hall, and
+surely she can satisfy your scruples."
+
+"No, it was my guardian who asked for their card, so that goes for
+nothing. It is really too bad."
+
+"My heart bleeds for you."
+
+"By-the-bye, talking of Lady May, I had a visit from her not a
+quarter-of-an-hour ago. What a fuss our friends at Mortlake do make
+about the death of that disagreeable old man!--Alice, I mean. Richard
+Arden bears it wonderfully. When did you see either?" she asked,
+innocently.
+
+"You forget he has not been dead three weeks, and Alice Arden is not
+likely to see any one but very intimate friends for a long time;
+and--and I daresay you have heard that Sir Richard Arden and I are not
+on very pleasant terms."
+
+"'Oh! Pity such difference should be----.'"
+
+"Thanks, and Tweedledum and Tweedledee are not likely to make it up. I'm
+afraid people aren't always reasonable, you know, and expect, often,
+things that are not quite fair."
+
+"He ought to marry some one with money, and give up play."
+
+"What! give up play, and commence husband? I'm afraid he'd think that a
+rather dull life."
+
+"Well, I'm sure I'm no judge of that, although I give an opinion.
+Whatever he may be, you have a very staunch friend in Lady May."
+
+"I'm glad of that; she's always so kind." And he looked rather oddly at
+the young lady.
+
+Perhaps she seemed conscious of a knowledge more than she had yet
+divulged.
+
+This young lady was, I need not tell you, a little coarse. She had, when
+she liked, the frankness that can come pretty boldly to the point; but I
+think she could be sly enough when she pleased; and was she just a
+little mischievous?
+
+"Lady May has been talking to me a great deal about Alice Arden. She has
+been to see her very often since that poor old man died, and she
+says--she says, Mr. Longcluse--will you be upon honour not to repeat
+this?"
+
+"Certainly, upon my honour."
+
+"Well, she says----"
+
+Miss Maubray gets up quickly, and settles some flowers over the
+chimney-piece.
+
+"She says that there is a coolness in that quarter also."
+
+"I don't quite see," says Mr. Longcluse.
+
+"Well, I must tell you she has taken me into council, and told me a
+great deal; and she spoke to Alice, and wrote to her. Did she say she
+would show you the answer? I have got it; she left it with me, and asked
+me--she's so good-natured--to use my influence--she said _my_ influence!
+She ought to know I've _no_ influence."
+
+Longcluse felt very oddly indeed during this speech; he had still
+presence of mind not to add anything to the knowledge the young lady
+might actually possess.
+
+"You have not said a great deal, you know; but Lady May certainly did
+promise to show me an answer which she expected to a note she wrote
+about three weeks ago, or less, to Miss Arden."
+
+"I really don't know of what use I can be in the matter. I have no
+excuse for speaking to Alice on the subject of her note--none in the
+world. I think I may as well let you see it; but you will promise--you
+_have_ promised--not to tell any one?"
+
+"I have--I do--I promise. Lady May herself said she would show me that
+letter."
+
+"Well, I can't, I suppose, be very wrong. It is only a note: it does not
+say much, but quite enough, I'm afraid, to make it useless, and almost
+impertinent, for me, or any one else, to say a word more on the subject
+to Alice Arden."
+
+All this time she is opening a very pretty marqueterie writing-desk, on
+spiral legs, which Longcluse has been listlessly admiring, little
+thinking what it contains. She now produced a little note, which,
+disengaging from its envelope, she places in the hand that Mr. Longcluse
+extended to receive it.
+
+"I do so hope," she said, as she gave it to him, "that I am doing what
+Lady May would wish. I think she shrank a little from showing it to you
+herself, but I am certain she wished you to know what is in it."
+
+He opened it quickly. It ran thus ("Merry," I must remark, was a pet
+name, originating, perhaps, in Shakespeare's song that speaks of "the
+merry month of May"):--
+
+    "DEAREST MERRY,
+
+    "I hope you will come to see me to-morrow. I cannot yet bear the
+    idea of going into town. I feel as if I never should, and I think I
+    grow more and more miserable every day. You are one of the very few
+    friends whom I can see. You can't think what a pleasure a call from
+    you is--if, indeed, in my miserable state, I can call anything a
+    pleasure. I have read your letter about Mr. Longcluse, and parts of
+    it a little puzzle me. I can't say that I have anything to forgive,
+    and I am sure he has acted just as kindly as you say. But our
+    acquaintance has ended, and nothing shall ever induce me to renew
+    it. I can give you fifty reasons, when I see you, for my not
+    choosing to know him. Darling Merry, I have quite made up my mind
+    upon this point. I _don't_ know Mr. Longcluse, and I _won't_ know
+    Mr. Longcluse; and I'll tell you _all_ my reasons, if you wish to
+    hear them, when we meet. Some of them, which seem to me _more_ than
+    sufficient, you do know. The only condition I make is that you don't
+    discuss them with me. I have grown so stupid that _I_ really cannot.
+    I only know that I am right, and that _nothing_ can change me. Come,
+    darling, and see me very soon. You have no idea how very wretched I
+    am. But I do not complain: it has drawn me, I hope, to higher and
+    better thoughts. The world is not what it was to me, and I pray it
+    never may be. Come and see me soon, darling; you cannot think how I
+    long to see you.--Your affectionate,
+
+    "ALICE ARDEN."
+
+"What mountains of molehills!" said Mr. Longcluse, very gently, smiling
+with a little shrug, as he placed the letter again in Miss Maubray's
+hand.
+
+"Making such a fuss about that poor old man's death! It certainly does
+look a little like a pretty affectation. Isn't that what you mean? He
+_was_ so _insupportable_!"
+
+"No, I know nothing about that. I mean such a ridiculous fuss about
+nothing. Why, people cease to be acquainted every day for much less
+reason. Sir Reginald chose to talk over his money matters with me, and I
+think he expected me to do things which no stranger could be reasonably
+invited to do. And I suppose, now that he is gone, Miss Arden resents my
+insensibility to his hints; and I daresay Sir Richard, who, I may say,
+on precisely similar grounds, chooses to quarrel with me, does not spare
+invective, and has, of course, a friendly listener in his sister. But
+how absurdly provoking that Lady May should have made such a diplomacy,
+and given herself so much trouble! And--I'm afraid I appear so
+foolish--I merely assented to Lady May's kind proposal to mediate, and I
+could not, of course, appear to think it a less important mission than
+she did; and--where are you going--Scotland? Italy?"
+
+"My guardian, Mr. Arden, has not yet settled anything," she answered;
+and upon this, Mr. Longcluse begins to recommend, and with much
+animation to describe, several Continental routes, and then he tells her
+all his gossip, and takes his leave, apparently in very happy spirits.
+
+I doubt very much whether the face can ever be taught to lie as
+impudently as the tongue. Its muscles, of course, can be trained; but
+the young lady thought that Mr. Longcluse's pallor, as he smiled and
+returned the note, was more intense, and his dark eyes strangely fierce.
+
+"He was more vexed than he cared to say," thought the young lady. "Lady
+May has not told me the whole story yet. There has been a great deal of
+fibbing, but I shall know it all."
+
+Mr. Longcluse had to dine out. He drove home to dress. On arriving, he
+first sat down and wrote a note to Lady May.
+
+    "DEAR LADY MAY,
+
+    "I am so grateful. Miss Maubray told me to-day all the trouble you
+    have been taking for me. Pray think no more of that little vexation.
+    I never took so serious a view of so commonplace an unpleasantness,
+    as to dream of tasking your kindness so severely. I am quite ashamed
+    of having given you so much trouble.--Yours, dear Lady May,
+    sincerely,
+
+    "WALTER LONGCLUSE."
+
+    "P.S.--I don't forget your kind invitation to lunch to-morrow."
+
+Longcluse dispatched this note, and then wrote a few words of apology to
+the giver of the City dinner, to which he had intended to go. He could
+not go. He was very much agitated: he knew that he could not endure the
+long constraint of that banquet. He was unfit, for the present, to bear
+the company of any one. Gloomy and melancholy was the pale face of this
+man, as if he were going to the funeral of his beloved, when he stepped
+from his door in the dark. Was he going to walk out to Mortlake, and
+shoot himself on the steps?
+
+As Mr. Longcluse walked into town, he caught a passing sight of a
+handsome young face that jarred upon him. It was that of Richard Arden,
+who was walking, also alone, not under any wild impulse, but to keep an
+appointment. This handsome face appeared for a moment gliding by, and
+was lost. Melancholy and thoughtful he looked, and quite unconscious of
+the near vicinity of his pale adversary. We shall follow him to his
+place of rendezvous.
+
+He walked quickly by Pall Mall, and down Parliament Street, into the
+ancient quarter of Westminster, turned into a street near the Abbey, and
+from it into another that ran toward the river. Here were tall and dingy
+mansions, some of which were let out as chambers. In one of these, in a
+room over the front drawing-room, Mr. Levi received his West-end
+clients; and here, by appointment, he awaited Sir Richard Arden.
+
+The young baronet, a little paler, and with the tired look of a man who
+was made acquainted with care, enters this room, hot with the dry
+atmosphere of gas-light. With his back towards the door, and his feet on
+the fender, smoking, sits Mr. Levi. Sir Richard does not remove his hat,
+and he stands by the table, which he slaps once or twice sharply with
+his stick. Mr. Levi turns about, looking, in his own phrase, unusually
+"down in the mouth," and his big black eyes are glowing angrily.
+
+"Ho! Shir Richard Harden," he says, rising, "I did not think we was sho
+near the time. Izh it a bit too soon?"
+
+"A little later than the time I named."
+
+"Crikey! sho it izh."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER LVII.
+
+LEVI'S APOLOGUE.
+
+
+The room had once been a stately one. Three tall windows looked toward
+the street. Its cornices and door-cases were ponderous, and its
+furniture was heterogeneous, and presented the contrasts that might be
+expected in a broker's store. A second-hand Turkey carpet, in a very
+dusty state, covered part of the floor; and a dirty canvas sack lay by
+the door for people coming in to rub their feet on. The table was a
+round one, that turned on a pivot; it was oak, massive and carved, with
+drawers; there were two huge gilt arm-chairs covered with Utrecht
+velvet, a battered office-stool, and two or three bed-room chairs that
+did not match. There were two great iron safes on tressels. On the top
+of one was some valuable old china, and on the other an electrifying
+machine; a French harp with only half-a-dozen strings stood in the
+corner near the fire-place, and several dusty pictures of various sizes
+leaned with their faces against the wall. A jet of gas burned right over
+the table, and had blackened the ceiling by long use, and a dip candle,
+from which Mr. Levi lighted his cigars, burned in a brass candlestick on
+the hob of the empty grate. Over everything lay a dark grey drift of
+dust. And the two figures, the elegant young man in deep mourning, and
+the fierce vulgar little Jew, shimmering all over with chains, rings,
+pins, and trinkets, stood in a narrow circle of light, in strong relief
+against the dim walls of the large room.
+
+"So you _will_ want that bit o' money in hand?" said Mr. Levi.
+
+"I told you so."
+
+"Don't you think they'll ever get tired helpin' you, if you keep pulling
+alwaysh the wrong way?"
+
+"You said, this morning, I might reckon upon the help of that friend to
+any extent within reason," said Sir Richard, a little sourly.
+
+"Ye're goin' fashter than yer friendsh li-likesh; ye're goin'
+al-ash--ye're goin' a terrible lick, you are!" said Mr. Levi, solemnly.
+
+His usually pale face was a little flushed; he was speaking rather
+thickly, and there came at intervals a small hiccough, which indicated
+that he had been making merry.
+
+"That's my own affair, I fancy," replied Sir Richard, as haughtily as
+prudence would permit. "You are simply an agent."
+
+"Wish shome muff would take it off my hands; 'shan agenshy tha'll bring
+whoever takesh it more tr-tr-ouble than tin. By my shoul I'll not keepsh
+long! I'm blowsh if I'll be fool any longer!"
+
+"I'm to suppose, then, that you have made up your mind to act no longer
+for my friend, whoever that friend may be?" said Sir Richard, who boded
+no good to himself from that step.
+
+Mr. Levi nodded surlily.
+
+"Have you drawn those bills?"
+
+Mr. Levi gave the table a spin, unlocked a drawer, and threw two bills
+across to Sir Richard, who glancing at them said,--
+
+"The date is ridiculously short!"
+
+"How can I 'elp 't? and the interesht shlesh than nothin': sh-shunder
+the bank termsh f-or the besht paper going--I'm blesht if it ain't--it
+ain't f-fair interesh--the timesh short becaushe the partiesh,
+theysh--they shay they're 'ard hup, Shir, 'eavy sharge to pay hoff, and
+a big purchashe in Austriansh!"
+
+"My uncle, David Arden, I happen to know, is buying Austrian stock this
+week; and Lady May Penrose is to pay off a charge on her property next
+month."
+
+The Jew smiled mysteriously.
+
+"You may as well be frank with me," added Sir Richard Arden, pleased at
+having detected the coincidence, which was strengthened by his having,
+the day before, surprised his uncle in conference with Lady May.
+
+"If you don't like the time, why don't you try shomwhere else? why don't
+you try Lonclushe? There'sh a shwell! Two millionsh, if he's worth a
+pig! A year, or a month, 'twouldn't matter a tizhy to him, and you and
+him'sh ash thick ash two pickpockets!"
+
+"You're mistaken; I don't choose to have any transactions with Mr.
+Longcluse."
+
+There was a little pause.
+
+"By-the-bye, I saw in some morning paper--I forget which--a day or two
+ago, a letter attacking Mr. Longcluse for an alleged share in the
+bank-breaking combination; and there was a short reply from him."
+
+"I know, in the _Timesh_," interposed Levi.
+
+"Yes," said Arden, who, in spite of himself, was always drawn into talk
+with this fellow more than he intended; such was the force of the
+ambiguously confidential relations in which he found himself. "What is
+thought of that in the City?"
+
+"There'sh lotsh of opinionsh about it; not a shafe chap to quar'l with.
+If you rub Lonclushe this year, he'll tear you for itsh the next. He'sh
+a bish--a bish--a bit--bit of a bully, is Lonclushe, and don't alwaysh
+treat 'ish people fair. If you've quar'led with him, look oush--I shay,
+look oush!"
+
+"Give me the cheque," said Sir Richard, extending his fingers.
+
+"Pleashe, Shir Richard, accept them billsh," replied Levi, pushing an
+ink-stand toward him, "and I'll get our cheque for you."
+
+So Mr. Levi took the dip candle and opened one of the safes, displaying
+for a moment cases of old-fashioned jewellery, and a number of watches.
+I daresay Mr. Levi and his partner made advances on deposits.
+
+"Why don't you cut them confounded rasesh, Shir Richard? I'm bleshed if
+I didn't lose five pounds on the Derby myself! There'sh lotsh of field
+sportsh," he continued, approaching the table with his cheque-book.
+"Didn't you never shee a ferret kill a rabbit? It'sh a beautiful thing;
+it takesh it shomeway down the back, and bit by bit it mendsh itsh grip,
+moving up to-_wards_ the head. It _is_ really beautiful, and not a
+shound from either, only you'll see the rabbitsh big eyes lookin' sho
+wonderful! and the ferret hangsh on, swinging this way and that like a
+shna-ake--'tish wery pretty!--till he worksh hish grip up to where the
+backbone joinish in with the brain; and then in with itsh teeth, through
+the shkull! and the rabbit givesh a screetch like a child in a fit. Ha,
+ha, ha! I'm blesht if it ain't done ash clever ash a doctor could do it.
+'Twould make you laugh. That will do."
+
+And he took the bills from Sir Richard, and handed him two cheques, and
+as he placed the bills in the safe, and locked them up, he continued,--
+
+"It _ish_ uncommon pretty! I'd rayther shee it than a terrier on fifty
+rats. The rabbit's sho shimple--there'sh the fun of it--and looksh sho
+foolish; and every rabbit had besht look sharp," he continued, turning
+about as he put the keys in his pocket, and looking with his burning
+black eyes full on Sir Richard, "and not let a ferret get a grip
+anywhere; for if he getsh a good purchase, he'll never let go till he
+hash his teeth in his brain, and then he'sh off with a shqueak, and
+there's an end of him."
+
+"I can get notes for one of these cheques to-night?" said Sir Richard.
+
+"The shmall one, yesh, eashy," answered Mr. Levi. "I'm a bachelor," he
+added jollily, in something like a soliloquy, "and whenever I marry I'll
+be the better of it; and I'm no muff, and no cove can shay that I ever
+shplit on no one. And what do I care for Lonclushe? Not the snuff of
+this can'le!" And he snuffed the dip scornfully with his fingers, and
+flung the sparkling wick over the bannister, as he stood at the door, to
+light Sir Richard down the stairs.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER LVIII.
+
+THE BARON COMES TO TOWN.
+
+
+Weeks flew by. The season was in its last throes: the session was within
+a day or two of its death. Lady May drove out to Mortlake with a project
+in her head.
+
+Alice Arden was glad to see her.
+
+"I've travelled all this way," she said, "to make you come with me on
+Friday to the Abbey."
+
+"On Friday? Why Friday, dear?" answered Alice.
+
+"Because there is to be a grand oratorio of Handel's. It is for the
+benefit of the clergy's sons' school, and it is one that has not been
+performed in England for I forget how many years. It is _Saul_. You have
+heard the Dead March in Saul, of course; everyone has; but no one has
+ever heard the oratorio, and come you must. There shall be no one but
+ourselves--you and I, and your uncle and your brother to take care of
+us. They have promised to come; and Stentoroni is to take Saul, and they
+have the finest voices in Europe; and they say that Herr Von Waasen, the
+conductor, is the greatest musician in the world. There have been eight
+performances in that great room--oh! what do you call it?--while I was
+away; and now there is only to be this one, and I'm longing to hear it;
+but I won't go unless you come with me--and you need not dress. It
+begins at three o'clock, and ends at six, and you can come just as you
+are now; and an oratorio is really exactly the same as going to church,
+so you have no earthly excuse; and I'll send out my carriage at one for
+you; and you'll see, it will do you all the good in the world."
+
+Alice had her difficulties, but Lady May's vigorous onset overpowered
+them, and at length she consented.
+
+"Does your uncle come out here to see you?" asks Lady May.
+
+"Often; he's very kind," she replies.
+
+"And Grace Maubray?"
+
+"Oh, yes; I see her pretty often--that is, she has been here twice, I
+think--quite often enough."
+
+"Well, do you know, I never could admire Grace Maubray as I have heard
+other people do," says Lady May. "There is something harsh and bold,
+don't you think?--something a little cruel. She is a girl that I don't
+think could ever be in love."
+
+"I don't know that," says Alice.
+
+"Oh! really?" says Lady May, "and who is it?"
+
+"It is merely a suspicion," says Alice.
+
+"Yes--but you think she likes some one--do, like a darling, tell me who
+it is," urges Lady May, a little uneasily.
+
+"You must not tell anyone, because they would say it was sisterly
+vanity, but I think she likes Dick."
+
+"Sir Richard?" says Lady May, with as much indifference as she could.
+
+"Yes, I think she likes my brother."
+
+Lady May smiles painfully.
+
+"I always thought so," she says; "and he admires her, of course?"
+
+"No, I don't think he admires her at all. I'm certain he doesn't," said
+Alice.
+
+"Well, certainly he always does speak of her as if she belonged to
+Vivian Darnley," remarks Lady May, more happily.
+
+"So she does, and he to her, I hope," said Alice.
+
+"Hope?" repeated Lady May, interrogatively.
+
+"Yes--I think nothing could be more suitable."
+
+"Perhaps so; you know them better than I do."
+
+"Yes, and I still think Uncle David intends them for one another."
+
+"I would have asked Mr. Longcluse," Lady May begins, after a little
+interval, "to use his influence to get us good hearing-places, but he is
+in such disgrace--is he still, or is there any chance of his being
+forgiven?"
+
+"I told you, darling, I have really nothing to forgive--but I have a
+kind of fear of Mr. Longcluse--a fear I can't account for. It began, I
+think, with that affair that seemed to me like a piece of insanity, and
+made me angry and bewildered; and then there was a dream, in which I saw
+such a horrible scene, and fancied he had murdered Richard, and I could
+not get it out of my head. I suppose I am in a nervous state--and there
+were other things; and, altogether, I think of him with a kind of
+horror--and I find that Martha Tansey has an unaccountable dread of him
+exactly as I have; and even Uncle David says that he has a misgiving
+about him that he can't get rid of, or explain."
+
+"I can't think, however, that he is a ghost or even a malefactor," said
+Lady May, "or anything worse than a very agreeable, good-natured person.
+I never knew anything more zealous than his good-nature on the occasion
+I told you of; and he has always approached you with so much devotion
+and respect--he seemed to me so sensitive, and to watch your very looks;
+I really think that a frown from you would have almost killed him."
+
+Alice sighs, and looked wearily through the window, as if the subject
+bored her; and she said listlessly,--
+
+"Oh, yes, he was kind, and gentlemanlike, and sang nicely, I grant you
+everything; but--there is something ominous about him, and I hate to
+hear him mentioned, and with my consent I'll never meet him more."
+
+Connected with the musical venture which the ladies were discussing, a
+remarkable person visited London. He had a considerable stake in its
+success. He was a penurious German, reputed wealthy, who ran over from
+Paris to complete arrangements about ticket-takers and treasurer, so as
+to ensure a system of check, such as would make it next to impossible
+for the gentlemen his partners to rob him. This person was the Baron
+Vanboeren.
+
+Mr. Blount had an intimation of this visit from Paris, and Mr. David
+Arden invited him to dine, of which invitation he took absolutely no
+notice; and then Mr. Arden called upon him in his lodging in St.
+Martin's Lane. There he saw him, this man, possibly the keeper of the
+secret which he had for twenty years of his life been seeking for. If he
+had a feudal ideal of this baron, he was disappointed. He beheld a
+short, thick man, with an enormous head and grizzled hair, coarse pug
+features, very grimy skin, and a pair of fierce black eyes, that never
+rested for a moment, and swept the room from corner to corner with a
+rapid and unsettled glance that was full of fierce energy.
+
+"The Baron Vanboeren?" inquires Uncle David courteously.
+
+The baron, who is smoking, nods gruffly.
+
+"My name is Arden--David Arden. I left my card two days ago, and having
+heard that your stay was but for a few days, I ventured to send you a
+very hurried invitation."
+
+The baron grunts and nods again.
+
+"I wrote a note to beg the pleasure of a very short interview, and you
+have been so good as to admit me."
+
+The baron smokes on.
+
+"I am told that you possibly are possessed of information which I have
+long been seeking in vain."
+
+Another nod.
+
+"Monsieur Lebas, the unfortunate little Frenchman who was murdered here
+in London, was, I believe, in your employment?"
+
+The baron here had a little fit of coughing.
+
+Uncle David accepted this as an admission.
+
+"He was acquainted with Mr. Longcluse?"
+
+"Was he?" says the baron, removing and replacing his pipe quickly.
+
+"Will you, Baron Vanboeren, be so good as to give me any information you
+possess respecting Mr. Longcluse? It is not, I assure you, from mere
+curiosity I ask these questions, and I hope you will excuse the trouble
+I give you."
+
+The baron took his pipe from his mouth, and blew out a thin stream of
+smoke.
+
+"I have heard," said he, in short, harsh tones, "since I came to London,
+nosing but good of Mr. Longcluse. I have ze greadest respect for zat
+excellent gendleman. I will say nosing bud zat--ze greadest respect."
+
+"You knew him in Paris, I believe?" urges Uncle David.
+
+"Nosing but zat--ze greadest respect," repeats the baron. "I sink him a
+very worzy gendleman."
+
+"No doubt, but I venture to ask whether you were acquainted with Mr.
+Longcluse in Paris?"
+
+"Zere are a gread many beoble in Paris. I have nosing to say of Mr.
+Longcluse, nosing ad all, only he is a man of high rebudation."
+
+And on completing this sentence the baron replaced his pipe, and
+delivered several rapid puffs.
+
+"I took the liberty of enclosing a letter from a friend explaining who I
+am, and that the questions I should entreat you to answer are not
+prompted by any idle or impertinent curiosity; perhaps, then, you would
+be so good as to say whether you know anything of a person named Yelland
+Mace, who visited Paris some twenty years since?"
+
+"I am in London, Sir, ubon my business, and no one else's. I am sinking
+of myself, and not about Mace or Longcluse, and I will not speak about
+eizer of zem. I am well baid for my dime. I will nod waste my dime on
+dalking--I will nod," he continues, warming as he proceeds; "nosing
+shall induce me do say one word aboud zoze gendlemen. I dake my oas I'll
+not, mein Gott! What do you mean by asking me aboud zem?"
+
+He looks positively ferocious as he delivers this expostulation.
+
+"My request must be more unreasonable than it appeared to me."
+
+"Nosing can be more unreasonable!"
+
+"And I am to understand that you positively object to giving me any
+information respecting the persons I have named?"
+
+The baron appeared extremely uneasy. He trotted to the door on his short
+legs, and looked out. Returning, he shut the door carefully. His grimy
+countenance, under the action of fear, assumes an expression peculiarly
+forbidding; and he said, with angry volubility--
+
+"Zis visit must end, Sir, zis moment. Donnerwesser! I will nod be
+combromised by you. But if you bromise as a Christian, ubon your honour,
+never to mention what I say----"
+
+"Never, upon my honour."
+
+"Nor to say you have talked with me here in London----"
+
+"Never."
+
+"I will tell you that I have no objection to sbeak wis you, _privately_
+in Paris, whenever you are zere--now, now! zat is all. I will not have
+one ozer word--you shall not stay one ozer minude."
+
+He opens the door and wags his head peremptorily, and points with his
+pipe to the lobby.
+
+"You'll not forget your promise, Baron, when I call? for visit you I
+will."
+
+"I never forget nosing. Monsieur Arden, will you go or _nod_?"
+
+"Farewell, Sir," says his visitor, too much excited by the promise
+opened to him, for the moment to apprehend what was ridiculous in the
+scene or in the brutality of the baron.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER LIX.
+
+TWO OLD FRIENDS MEET AND PART.
+
+
+When he was gone the Baron Vanboeren sat down and panted; his pipe had
+gone out, and he clutched it in his hand like a weapon and continued for
+some minutes, in the good old phrase, very much disordered.
+
+"That old fool," he mutters, in his native German, "won't come near me
+again while I remain in London."
+
+This assurance was, I suppose, consolatory, for the baron repeated it
+several times; and then bounced to his feet, and made a few hurried
+preparations for an appearance in the streets. He put on a short cloak
+which had served him for the last thirty years, and a preposterous hat;
+and with a thick stick in his hand, and a cigar lighted, sallied forth,
+square and short, to make Mr. Longcluse a visit by appointment.
+
+By this time the lamps were lighted. There had been a performance of
+_Saul_, a very brilliant success, although it pleased the baron to
+grumble over it that day. He had not returned from the great room where
+it had taken place more than an hour, when David Arden had paid his
+brief visit. He was now hastening to an interview which he thought much
+more momentous. Few persons who looked at that vulgar seedy figure,
+strutting through the mud, would have thought that the thread-bare black
+cloak, over which a brown autumnal tint had spread, and the monstrous
+battered felt hat, in which a costermonger would scarcely have gone
+abroad, covered a man worth a hundred and fifty thousand pounds.
+
+Man is mysteriously so constructed that he cannot abandon himself to
+selfishness, which is the very reverse of heavenly love, without in the
+end contracting some incurable insanity; and that insanity of the higher
+man constitutes, to a great extent, his mental death. The Baron
+Vanboeren's insanity was avarice; and his solitary expenses caused him
+all the sordid anxieties which haunt the unfortunate gentleman who must
+make both ends meet on five-and-thirty pounds a year.
+
+Though not _sui profusus_, he was _alieni appetens_ in a very high
+degree; and his visit to Mr. Longcluse was not one of mere affection.
+
+Mr. Longcluse was at home in his study. The baron was instantly shown
+in. Mr. Longcluse, smiling, with both hands extended to grasp his,
+advances to meet him.
+
+"My dear Baron, what an unexpected pleasure! I could scarcely believe my
+eyes when I read your note. So you have a stake in this musical
+speculation, and though it is very late, and, of course, everything at a
+disadvantage, I have to congratulate you on an immense success."
+
+The baron shrugs, shakes his head, and rolls his eyes dismally.
+
+"Ah, my friend, ze exbenses are enormous."
+
+"And the receipts still more so," says Longcluse cheerfully; "you must
+be making, among you, a mint of money."
+
+"Ah! Monsieur Longcluse, id is nod what it should be! zay are all such
+sieves and robbers! I will never escape under a loss of a sousand
+bounds."
+
+"You must be cheerful, my dear Baron. You shall dine with me to-day.
+I'll take you with me to half a dozen places of amusement worth seeing
+after dinner. To-morrow morning you shall run down with me to
+Brighton--my yacht is there--and when you have had enough of that, we
+shall run up again and have a whitebait dinner at Greenwich; and come
+into town and see those fellows, Markham and the other, that poor little
+Lebas saw play, the night he was murdered. You must see them play the
+return match, so long postponed. Next day we shall----"
+
+"Bardon, Monsieur, bardon! I am doo old. I have no spirits."
+
+"What, not enough to see a game of billiards between Markham and Hood!
+Why, Lebas was charmed so far as he saw it, poor fellow, with their
+play."
+
+"No, no, no, no, Monsieur; a sousand sanks, no, bardon, I cannod," says
+the baron. "I do not like billiards, and your friends have not found it
+a lucky game."
+
+"Well, if you don't care for billiards, we'll find something else,"
+replies hospitable Mr. Longcluse.
+
+"Nosing else, nosing else," answers the baron hastily. "I hade all zese
+sings, ze seatres, ze bubbedshows, and all ze ozer amusements, I give
+you my oas. Did you read my liddle node?"
+
+"I did indeed, and it amused me beyond measure," says Longcluse
+joyously.
+
+"Amuse!" repeats the baron, "how so?"
+
+"Because it is so diverting; one might almost fancy it was meant to ask
+me for fifteen hundred pounds."
+
+"I have lost, by zis sing, a vast deal more zan zat."
+
+"And, my dear Baron, what on earth have I to do with that?"
+
+"I am an old friend, a good friend, a true friend," says the baron,
+while his fierce little eyes sweep the walls, from corner to corner,
+with quivering rapidity. "You would not like to see me quide in a
+corner. You're the richest man in England, almost; what's one sousand
+five hundred to you? I have not wridden to you, or come to England, dill
+now. You have done nosing for your old friend yet: what are you going to
+give him?"
+
+"Not as much as I gave Lebas," said Longcluse, eyeing him askance, with
+a smile.
+
+"I don't know what you mean."
+
+"Not a napoleon, not a franc, not a sou."
+
+"You are jesding; sink, sink, sink, Monsieur, what a friend I have been
+and _am_ to you."
+
+"So I do, my dear Baron, and consider how I show my gratitude. Have I
+ever given a hint to the French police about the identity of the clever
+gentleman who managed the little tunnel through which a river of
+champagne flowed into Paris, under the barrier, duty free? Have I ever
+said a word about the confiscated jewels of the Marchioness de la
+Sarnierre? Have I ever asked how the Comte de Loubourg's little boy is,
+or directed an unfriendly eye upon the conscientious physician who
+extricates ladies and gentlemen from the consequences of late hours,
+nervous depression, and fifty other things that war against good
+digestion and sound sleep? Come, come, my good Baron, whenever we come
+to square accounts, the balance will stand very heavily in my favour. I
+don't want to press for a settlement, but if you urge it, by Heaven,
+I'll make you pay the uttermost farthing!"
+
+Longcluse laughs cynically. The baron looks very angry. His face darkens
+to a leaden hue. The fingers which he plunged into his snuff-box are
+trembling. He takes two or three great pinches of snuff before speaking.
+
+Mr. Longcluse watches all these symptoms of his state of mind with a
+sardonic enjoyment, beneath which, perhaps, is the sort of suspense with
+which a beast-tamer watches the eye of the animal whose fury he excites
+only to exhibit the coercion which he exercises through its fears, and
+who is for a moment doubtful whether its terrors or its fury may
+prevail.
+
+The baron's restless eyes roll wickedly. He puts his hand into his
+pocket irresolutely, and crumbles some papers there. There was no
+knowing, for some seconds, what turn things might take. But if he had
+for a moment meditated a crisis, he thought better of it. He breaks into
+a fierce laugh, and extends his hand to Mr. Longcluse, who as frankly
+places his own in it, and the baron shakes it vehemently. And Mr.
+Longcluse and he laugh boisterously and oddly together. The baron takes
+another great pinch of snuff, and then he says, sponging out as it were,
+as an ignored parenthesis, the critical part of their conversation--
+
+"No, no, I sink not; no, no, surely not. I am not fit for all zose
+amusements. I cannot knog aboud as I used; an old fellow, you know:
+beace and tranquilidy. No, I cannot dine with you. I dine with
+Stentoroni to-morrow; to-day I have dined with our _tenore_. How well
+you look! What nose, what tees, what chin! I am proud of you. We bart
+good friends, _bon soir_, Monsieur Longcluse, farewell. I am already a
+liddle lade."
+
+"Farewell, dear Baron. How can I thank you enough for this kind meeting?
+Try one of my cigars as you go home."
+
+The baron, not being a proud man, took half-a-dozen, and with a final
+shaking of hands these merry gentlemen parted, and Longcluse's door
+closed for ever on the Baron Vanboeren.
+
+"That bloated spider?" mused Mr. Longcluse. "How many flies has he
+sucked! It is another matter when spiders take to catching wasps."
+
+Every man of energetic passions has within him a principle of
+self-destruction. Longcluse had his. It had expressed itself in his
+passion for Alice Arden. That passion had undergone a wondrous change,
+but it was imperishable in its new as in its pristine state.
+
+This gentleman was in the dumps so soon as he was left alone. Always
+uncertainty; always the sword of Damocles; always the little reminders
+of perdition, each one contemptible, but each one in succession touching
+the same set of nerves, and like the fall of the drop of water in the
+inquisition, _non vi, sed sæpe cadendo_, gradually heightening monotony
+into excitement, and excitement into frenzy. Living always with a sense
+of the unreality of life and the vicinity of death, with a certain stern
+tremor of the heart, like that of a man going into action, no wonder if
+he sometimes sickened of his bargain with Fate, and thought life
+purchased too dear on the terms of such a lease.
+
+Longcluse bolted his door, unlocked his desk, and there what do we see?
+Six or seven miniatures--two enamels, the rest on ivory--all by
+different hands; some English, some Parisian; very exquisite, some of
+them. Every one was Alice Arden. Little did she dream that such a
+gallery existed. How were they taken? Photographs are the colourless
+phantoms from which these glowing life-like beauties start.
+Tender-hearted Lady May has in confidence given him, from time to time,
+several of these from her album; he has induced foreign artists to visit
+London, and managed opportunities by which, at parties, in theatres, and
+I am sorry to say even in church, these clever persons succeeded in
+studying from the life, and learning all the tints which now glow before
+him. If I had mentioned what this little collection cost him, you would
+have opened your eyes. The Baron Vanboeren would have laughed and cursed
+him with hilarious derision, and a money-getting Christian would have
+been quite horror-struck, on reading the scandalous row of figures.
+
+Each miniature he takes in turn, and looks at for a long time, holding
+it in both hands, his hands resting on the desk, his face inclined and
+sad, as if looking down into the coffin of his darling. One after the
+other he puts them by, and returns to his favourite one; and at last he
+shuts it up also, with a snap, and places it with the rest in the dark,
+under lock and key.
+
+He leaned back and laid his thin hand across his eyes. Was he looking at
+an image that came out in the dark on the retina of memory? Or was he
+shedding tears?
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER LX.
+
+"SAUL."
+
+
+The day arrived on which Alice Arden had agreed to go with Lady May to
+Westminster Abbey, to hear the masterly performance of _Saul_. When it
+came to the point, she would have preferred staying at home; but that
+was out of the question. Every one has experienced that ominous
+forboding which overcomes us sometimes with a shapeless forecasting of
+evil. It was with that vague misgiving that she had all the morning
+looked forward to her drive to town, and the long-promised oratorio. It
+was a dark day, and there was a thunderous weight in the air, and the
+melancholy atmosphere deepened her gloom.
+
+Her Uncle David arrived in Lady May's carriage, to take care of her.
+They were to call at Lady May's house, where its mistress and Sir
+Richard Arden awaited them.
+
+A few kind words followed Uncle David's affectionate greeting, as they
+drove into town. He did not observe that Alice was unusually low. He
+seemed to have something not very pleasant himself to think upon, and he
+became silent for some time.
+
+"I want," said he at last, looking up suddenly, "to give you a little
+advice, and now mind what I say. Don't sign any legal paper without
+consulting me, and don't make any promise to Richard. It is just
+possible--I hope he may not, but it is just possible--that he may ask
+you to deal in his favour with your charge on the Yorkshire estate. Do
+you tell him if he should, that you have promised me faithfully not to
+do anything in the matter, except as I shall advise. He may, as I said,
+never say a word on the subject, but in any case my advice will do you
+no harm. I have had bitter experience, my dear, of which I begin to grow
+rather ashamed, of the futility of trying to assist Richard. I have
+thrown away a great deal of money upon him, utterly thrown it away. _I_
+can afford it, but _you_ cannot, and you shall not lose your little
+provision." And here he changed the subject of his talk, I suppose to
+avoid the possibility of discussion. "How very early the autumn has set
+in this year! It is the extraordinary heat of the summer. The elms in
+Mortlake are quite yellow already."
+
+And so they talked on, and returned no more to the subject at which he
+had glanced. But the few words her uncle had spoken gave Alice ample
+matter to think on, and she concluded that Richard was in trouble again.
+
+Lady May did not delay them a moment, and Sir Richard got into the
+carriage after her, with the tickets in his charge. Very devoted, Alice
+thought him, to Lady May, who appeared more than usually excited and
+happy.
+
+We follow our party without comment into the choir, where they take
+possession of their seats. The chorus glide into their places like
+shadows, and the vast array of instrumental musicians as noiselessly
+occupy the seats before their desks. The great assembly is marshalled in
+a silence almost oppressive, but which is perhaps the finest preparation
+for the wondrous harmonies to come.
+
+And now the grand and unearthly oratorio has commenced. Each person in
+our little group hears it with different ears. I wonder whether any two
+persons in that vast assembly heard it precisely alike. Sir Richard
+Arden, having many things to think about, hears it intermittently as he
+would have listened to a bore, and with a secret impatience. Lady May
+hears it not much better, but felt as if she could have sat there for
+ever. Old David Arden enjoyed music, and is profoundly delighted with
+this. But his thoughts also begin to wander, for as the mighty basso
+singing the part of Saul delivers the words,
+
+    "I would that, by thy art, thou bring me up
+     The man whom I shall name,"
+
+David Arden's eye lighted, with a little shock, upon the enormous head
+and repulsive features of the Baron Vanboeren. What a mask for a witch!
+The travesti lost its touch of the ludicrous, in Uncle David's eye, by
+virtue of the awful interest he felt in the possible revelations of that
+ugly magician, who could, he fancied, by a word, call up the image of
+Yelland Mace. The baron is sitting about the steps in front of him, face
+to face. He wonders he has not seen him till now. His head is a little
+thrown back, displaying his short bull neck. His restless eyes are fixed
+now in a sullen reverie. His calculation as to the exact money value of
+the audience is over; he is polling them no longer, and his unresting
+brain is projecting pictures into the darkness of the future.
+
+His face in a state of apathy was ill-favoured and wicked, and now
+lighted with a cadaverous effect, by the dull purplish halo which marks
+the blending of the feeble daylight, with the glow of the lamp that is
+above him.
+
+The baron had seen and recognised David Arden, and a train of thoughts
+horribly incongruous with the sacred place was moving through his brain.
+As he looks on, impassive, the great basso rings out--
+
+    "If heaven denies thee aid, seek it from hell."
+
+And the soprano sends forth the answering incantation, wild and
+piercing--
+
+    "Infernal spirits, by whose power
+       Departed ghosts in living forms appear,
+     Add horror to the midnight hour,
+       And chill the boldest hearts with fear;
+     To this stranger's wondering eyes
+       Let the man he calls for rise."
+
+If Mr. Longcluse had been near, he might have made his own sad
+application of the air so powerfully sung by the alto to whom was
+committed the part of David--
+
+    "Such haughty beauties rather move
+     Aversion, than engage our love."
+
+He might with an undivulged anguish have heard the adoring strain--
+
+    "O lovely maid! thy form beheld
+       Above all beauty charms our eyes,
+     Yet still within that form concealed,
+       Thy mind a greater beauty lies."
+
+In a rapture Alice listened on. The famous "Dead March" followed,
+interposing its melancholy instrumentation, and arresting the vocal
+action of the drama by the pomp of that magnificent dirge.
+
+To her the whole thing seemed stupendous, unearthly, glorious beyond
+expression. She almost trembled with excitement. She was glad she had
+come. Tears of ecstasy were in her eyes.
+
+And now, at length, the three parts are over, and the crowd begin to
+move outward. The organ peals as they shuffle slowly along, checked
+every minute, and then again resuming their slow progress, pushing on in
+those little shuffling steps of two or three inches by which well-packed
+crowds get along, every one wondering why they can't all step out
+together, and what the people in front can be about.
+
+In two several channels, through two distinct doors, this great human
+reservoir floods out. Sir Richard has undertaken the task of finding
+Lady May's carriage, and bringing it to a point where they might escape
+the tedious waiting at the door; and David Arden, with Lady May on one
+arm and Alice on the other, is getting on slowly in the thick of this
+well-dressed and aristocratic mob.
+
+"I think, Alice," said Uncle David, "you would be more out of the crush,
+and less likely to lose me, if you were to get quite close behind us--do
+you see?--between Lady May and me, and hold me fast."
+
+The pressure of the stream was so unequal, and a front of three so wide,
+that Alice gladly adopted the new arrangement, and with her hand on her
+uncle's arm, felt safer and more comfortable than before.
+
+This slow march, inch by inch, is strangely interrupted. A well-known
+voice, close to her ear, says--
+
+"Miss Arden, a word with you."
+
+A pale face, with flat nose and Mephistophelian eyebrows, was stooping
+near her. Mr. Longcluse's thin lips were close to her ear. She started a
+little aside, and tried to stop. Recovering, she stretched her hand to
+reach her uncle, and found that there were strangers between them.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER LXI.
+
+A WAKING DREAM.
+
+
+There is something in that pale face and spectral smile that fascinates
+the terrified girl; she cannot take her eyes off him. His dark eyes are
+near hers; his lips are still close to her; his arm is touching her
+dress; he leans his face to her, and talks on, in an icy tone little
+above a whisper, and an articulation so sharply distinct that it seems
+to pain her ear.
+
+"The oratorio!" he continued: "the music! The words, here and there are
+queer--a little sinister--eh? There are better words and wilder
+music--you shall hear them some day! Saul had his evil spirit, and a bad
+family have theirs--ay, they have a demon who is always near, and shapes
+their lives for them; they don't know it, but, sooner or later justice
+catches them. Suppose _I_ am the demon of _your_ family--it is very
+funny, isn't it? I tried to serve you both, but it wouldn't do. I'll set
+about the other thing now: the evil genius of a bad family; I'm
+appointed to that. It almost makes me laugh--such cross-purposes! You're
+frightened? That's a pity; you should have thought of that before. It
+requires some nerve to fight a man like me. I don't threaten you, mind,
+but you are frightened. There is such a thing as getting a dangerous
+fellow bound over to keep the peace. Try that. I should like to have a
+talk with you before his worship in the police-court, across the table,
+with a corps of clever newspaper reporters sitting there. What fun in
+the _Times_ and all the rest next morning."
+
+It is plain to Miss Arden that Mr. Longcluse is speaking all this time
+with suppressed fury, and his countenance expresses a sort of smiling
+hatred that horrifies her.
+
+"I'm not bad at speaking my mind," he continues. "It is unfortunate that
+I am so well thought of and listened to in London. Yes, people mind what
+I say a good deal. I rather think they'll choose to believe _my_ story.
+But there's another way, if you don't like that. Your brother's not
+afraid--_he_'ll protect you. Tell your brother what a miscreant I am,
+and send him to me--do, pray! Nothing on earth I should like better than
+to have a talk with that young gentleman. Do pray, send him, I entreat.
+He'd like satisfaction--ha! ha!--and, by Heaven, I'll give it him! Tell
+him to get his pistols ready; he shall have his shop! Let him come to
+Boulogne, or where he likes--I'll stand it--and I don't think he'll need
+to pay his way back again. He'll stay in France; he'll not walk in at
+your hall-door, and call for luncheon, I promise you. Ha! ha! ha!"
+
+This pale man enjoys her terror cruelly.
+
+"I'm not worthy to speak to you, I believe--eh? That's odd, for the time
+isn't far off when you'll pray to God I may have mercy on you. You had
+no business to encourage me. I'm afraid the crowd is getting on very
+slowly, but I'll try to entertain you: you _are_ such a good listener!"
+
+Miss Arden often wondered afterwards at her own passiveness through all
+this. There were, no doubt, close by, many worthy citizens, fathers of
+families, who would have taken her for a few minutes under their
+protection with honest alacrity. But it was a fascination; her state was
+cataleptic: and she could no more escape than the bird that is throbbing
+in the gaze of a snake. The cold murmur went distinctly on and on:
+
+"Your brother will probably think I should treat you more ceremoniously.
+Don't you agree with him? Pray, do complain to him. Pray, send him to
+me, and I'll thank him for his share in this matter. He wanted to make
+it a match between us--I'm speaking coarsely, for the sake of
+distinctness--till a title turned up. What has become of the title,
+by-the-bye?--I don't see him here. The peer wasn't in the running, after
+all: didn't even start! Ha! ha! ha! Remember me to your brother, pray,
+and tell him the day will come when he'll not need to be reminded of me:
+I'll take care of that. And so Sir Richard is doomed to disappointment!
+It is a world of disappointment. The earl is nowhere! And the proudest
+family on earth--what is left of it--looks a little foolish. And well it
+may: it has many follies to expiate. You had no business encouraging me,
+and you are foolish enough to be terribly afraid now--ha! ha! ha! Too
+late, eh? I daresay you think I'll punish you! Not I! Nothing of the
+sort! I'll never punish anyone. Why should I take that trouble about
+you. Not I: not even your brother. Fate does that. Fate has always been
+kind to me, and hit my enemies pretty hard. You had no business
+encouraging me. Remember this: the day is not far off when you will
+_both_ rue the hour you threw me over!"
+
+She is gazing helplessly into that dreadful face. There is a cruel
+elation in it. He looks on her, I think, with admiration. Mixed with his
+hatred, did there remain a fraction of love?
+
+On a sudden the voice, which was the only sound she heard, was in her
+ear no longer. The face which had transfixed her gaze was gone.
+Longcluse had apparently pushed a way for her to her friends, for she
+found herself again next her Uncle David. Holding his arm fast, she
+looked round quickly for a moment: she saw Mr. Longcluse nowhere. She
+felt on the point of fainting. The scene must have lasted a shorter time
+than she supposed, for her uncle had not missed her.
+
+"My dear, how pale you look! Are you tired?" exclaims Lady May, when
+they have come to a halt at the door.
+
+"Yes, indeed, so she does. Are you ill, dear?" added her uncle.
+
+"No, nothing, thanks, only the crowd. I shall be better immediately."
+And so waiting in the air, near the door, they were soon joined by Sir
+Richard, and in his carriage he and she drove home to Mortlake. Lady
+May, taking hers, went to a tea at old Lady Elverstone's; and David
+Arden, bidding them good-bye, walked homeward across the park.
+
+Richard had promised to spend the evening at Mortlake with her, and side
+by side they were driving out to that sad and sombre scene. As they
+entered the shaded road upon which the great gate of Mortlake opens, the
+setting sun streamed through the huge trunks of the trees, and tinted
+the landscape with a subdued splendour.
+
+"I can't imagine, dear Alice, why you _will_ stay here. It is enough to
+kill you," says Sir Richard, looking out peevishly on the picturesque
+woodlands of Mortlake, and interrupting a long silence. "You never can
+recover your spirits while you stay here. There is Lady May going all
+over the world--I forget where, but she will be at Naples--and she
+absolutely longs to take you with her; and you won't go! I really
+sometimes think you want to make yourself melancholy mad."
+
+"I don't know," said she, waking herself from a reverie in which,
+against the dark background of the empty arches she had left, she still
+saw the white, wicked face that had leaned over her, and heard the low
+murmured stream of insult and menace. "I'm not sure that I shall not be
+worse anywhere else. I don't feel energy to make a change. I can't bear
+the idea of meeting people. By-and-by, in a little time, it will be
+different. For the present, quiet is what I like best. But you, Dick,
+are not looking well, you seem so over-worked and anxious. You really do
+want a little holiday. Why don't you go to Scotland to shoot, or take a
+few weeks' yachting? All your business must be pretty well settled now."
+
+"It will never be settled," he said, a little sourly. "I assure you
+there never was property in such a mess--I mean leases and everything.
+Such drudgery, you have no idea; and I owe a good deal. It has not done
+me any good. I'd rather be as I was before that miserable Derby. I'd
+gladly exchange it all for a clear annuity of a thousand a year."
+
+"Oh! my dear Dick, you can't mean that! All the northern property, and
+this, and Morley?"
+
+"I hate to talk about it. I'm tired of it already. I have been so
+unlucky, so foolish, and if I had not found a very good friend, I should
+have been utterly ruined by that cursed race; and he has been aiding me
+very generously, on rather easy terms, in some difficulties that have
+followed; and you know I had to raise money on the estate before all
+this happened, and have had to make a very heavy mortgage, and I am
+getting into such a mess--a confusion, I mean--and really I should have
+sold the estates, if it had not been for my unknown friend, for I don't
+know his name."
+
+"What friend?"
+
+"The friend who has aided me through my troubles--the best friend I ever
+met, unless it be as I half suspect. Has anyone spoken to you lately, in
+a way to lead you to suppose that he, or anyone else among our friends,
+has been lending me a helping hand?"
+
+"Yes, as we were driving into town to-day, Uncle David told me so
+distinctly; but I am not sure that I ought to have mentioned it. I
+fancy, indeed," she added, as she remembered the reflection with which
+it was accompanied, "that he meant it as a secret, so you must not get
+me into disgrace with him by appearing to know more than he has told you
+himself."
+
+"No, certainly," said Richard; "and he said it was he who lent it?"
+
+"Yes, distinctly."
+
+"Well, I all but knew it before. Of course it is very kind of him. But
+then, you know he is very wealthy; he does not feel it; and he would not
+for the world that our house should lose its position. I think he would
+rather sell the coat off his back, than that our name should be
+slurred."
+
+Sir Richard was pleased that he had received this light in corroboration
+of his suspicions. He was glad to have ascertained that the powerful
+motives which he had conjectured were actually governing the conduct of
+David Arden, although for obvious reasons he did not choose that his
+nephew should be aware of his weakness.
+
+The carriage drew up at the hall-door. The old house in the evening
+beams, looked warm and cheery, and from every window in its broad front
+flamed the reflection which showed like so many hospitable winter fires.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER LXII.
+
+LOVE AND PLAY.
+
+
+"Here we are, Alice," says Sir Richard, as they entered the hall. "We'll
+have a good talk this evening. We'll make the best of everything; and I
+don't see if Uncle David chooses to prevent it, why the old ship should
+founder after all."
+
+They are now in the house. It is hard to get rid of the sense of
+constraint that, in his father's time, he always experienced within
+those walls; to feel that the old influence is exorcised and utterly
+gone, and that he is himself absolute master where so lately he hardly
+ventured to move on tip-toe.
+
+They did not talk so much as Sir Richard had anticipated. There were
+upon his mind some things that weighed heavily. He had got from Levi a
+list of the advances made by his luckily found friend, and the total was
+much heavier than he had expected. He began to fear that he might
+possibly exceed the limits which his uncle must certainly have placed
+somewhere. He might not, indeed, allow him to suffer the indignity of a
+bankruptcy; but he would take a very short and unpleasant course with
+him. He would seize his rents, and, with a friendly roughness, put his
+estates to nurse, and send the prodigal on a Childe Harold's pilgrimage
+of five or six years, with an allowance, perhaps, of some three hundred
+a year, which in his frugal estimate of a young man's expenditure, would
+be handsome.
+
+While he was occupied in these ruminations, Alice cared not to break the
+silence. It was a very unsociable _tête-à-tête_. Alice had a secret of
+her own to brood over. If anything could have made Longcluse now more
+terrible to her imagination, it would have been a risk of her brother's
+knowing anything of the language he had dared to hold to her. She knew
+from her brother's own lips, that he was a duellist; and she was also
+persuaded that Mr. Longcluse was, in his own playful and sinister
+phrase, very literally a "miscreant." His face, ever since that
+interview, was always at her right side, with its cruel pallor, and the
+vindictive sarcasm of lip and tone. How she wished that she had never
+met that mysterious man! What she would have given to be exempted from
+his hatred, and blotted from his remembrance!
+
+One object only was in her mind, distinctly, with respect to that
+person. She was, thank God, quite beyond his power. But men, she knew,
+live necessarily a life so public, and have so many points of contact,
+that better opportunities present themselves for the indulgence of a
+masculine grudge; and she trembled at the thought of a collision. Why,
+then, should not Dick seek a reconciliation with him, and, by any
+honourable means, abate that terrible enmity.
+
+"I have been thinking, Dick, that, as Uncle David makes the interest he
+takes in your affairs a secret, and you can't consult him, it would be
+very well indeed if you could find some one else able to advise, who
+would consult with you when you wished."
+
+"Of course, I should be only too glad," says Sir Richard, yawning and
+smiling as well as he could at the same time; "but an adviser one can
+depend on in such matters, my dear child, is not to be picked up every
+day."
+
+"Poor papa, I think, was very wise in choosing people of that kind.
+Uncle David, I know, said that he made wonderfully good bargains about
+his mortgages, or whatever they are called."
+
+"I daresay--I don't know--he was always complaining, and always changing
+them," says Sir Richard. "But if you can introduce me to a person who
+can disentangle all my complications, and take half my cares off my
+shoulders, I'll say you are a very wise little woman indeed."
+
+"I only know this--that poor papa had the highest opinion of Mr.
+Longcluse, and thought he was the cleverest person, and the most able to
+assist, of any one he knew."
+
+Sir Richard Arden hears this with a stare of surprise.
+
+"My dear Alice, you seem to forget everything. Why, Longcluse and I are
+at deadly feud. He hates me implacably. There never could be anything
+but enmity between us. Not that I care enough about _him_ to hate him,
+but I have the worst opinion of him. I have heard the most shocking
+stories about him lately. They insinuate that he committed a murder! I
+told you of that jealousy and disappointment, about a girl he was in
+love with and wanted to marry, and it ended in _murder_! I'm told he had
+the reputation of being a most unscrupulous villain. They say he was
+engaged in several conspiracies to pigeon young fellows. He was the
+utter ruin, they say, of young Thornley, the poor muff who shot himself
+some years ago; and he was thought to be a principal proprietor of that
+gaming-house in Vienna, where they found all the apparatus for cheating
+so cleverly contrived."
+
+"But are any of these things proved?" urges Miss Arden.
+
+"I don't suppose he would be at large if they were," says Sir Richard,
+with a smile. "I only know that I believe them."
+
+"Well, Dick, you know I reminded you before--you used not to believe
+those stories till you quarrelled with him."
+
+"Why, what do you want, Alice?" he exclaims, looking hard at her. "What
+on earth can you mean? And what can possibly make you take an interest
+in the character of such a ruffian?"
+
+Alice's face grew pale under his gaze. She cleared her voice and looked
+down; and then she looked full at him, with burning eyes, and said--
+
+"It is because I am afraid of him, and think he may do you some dreadful
+injury, unless you are again on terms with him. I can't get it out of my
+head; and I daresay I am wrong, but I am sure I am miserable."
+
+She burst into tears.
+
+"Why, you darling little fool, what harm can he do me?" said Richard
+fondly, throwing his arms about her neck and kissing her, as he laughed
+tenderly. "He exhausted his utmost malice when he angrily refused to
+lend me a shilling in my extremity, or to be of the smallest use to me,
+at a moment when he might have saved me, without risk to himself, by
+simply willing it. _I_ didn't ask him, you may be sure. An officious,
+foolish little friend, doing all, of course, for the best, _did_,
+without once consulting me, or giving me a voice in the matter, until he
+had effectually put his foot in it, as I told you. I would not for
+anything on earth have applied to him, I need not tell you; but it was
+done, and it only shows with what delight he would have seen me ruined,
+as, in fact, I should have been, had not my own relations taken the
+matter up. I do believe, Alice, the best thing I could do for myself and
+for you would be to marry," he says, a little suddenly, after a
+considerable silence.
+
+Alice looks at him, doubtful whether he is serious.
+
+"I really mean it. It is the only honest way of making or mending a
+fortune now-a-days."
+
+"Well, Dick, it is time enough to think of that by-and-by, don't you
+think?"
+
+"Perhaps so; I hope so. At present it seems to me that, as far as I am
+concerned, it is just a race between the bishop and the bailiff which
+shall have me first. If any lady is good enough to hold out a hand to a
+poor drowning fellow, she had better----"
+
+"Take care, Dick, that the poor drowning fellow does not pull her in.
+Don't you think it would be well to consider first what you have got to
+live on?"
+
+"I have plenty to live on; I know that exactly," said Dick.
+
+"What is it?"
+
+"My wife's fortune."
+
+"You are never serious for a minute, Dick! Don't you think it would be
+better first to get matters a little into order, so as to know
+distinctly what you are worth?"
+
+"Quite the contrary; she'd rather not know. She'd rather exercise her
+imagination than learn distinctly what I am worth. Any woman of sense
+would prefer marrying me so."
+
+"I don't understand you."
+
+"Why, if I succeed in making matters quite lucid, I don't think she
+would marry me at all. Isn't it better to say, 'My Angelina,' or
+whatever else it may be, 'you see before you Sir Richard Arden, who has
+estates in Yorkshire, in Middlesex, and in Devonshire, thus spanning all
+England from north to south. We had these estates at the Conquest. There
+is nothing modern about them but the mortgages. I have never been able
+to ascertain exactly what they bring in by way of rents, or pay out by
+way of interest. That I stand here, with flesh upon my bones, and pretty
+well-made clothes, I hope, upon both, is evidence in a confused way that
+an English gentleman--a baronet--can subsist upon them; and this
+magnificent muddle I lay at your feet with the devotion of a passionate
+admirer of your personal--property!' That, I say, is better than
+appearing with a balance-sheet in your hand, and saying, 'Madam, I
+propose marrying you, and I beg to present you with a balance-sheet of
+the incomings and outgoings of my estates, the intense clearness of
+which will, I hope, compensate for the nature of its disclosures. I am
+there shown in the most satisfactory detail to be worth exactly fifteen
+shillings per annum, and how unlimited is my credit will appear from the
+immense amount and variety of my debts. In pressing my suit I rely
+entirely upon your love of perspicuity and your passion for arithmetic,
+which will find in the ledgers of my steward an almost inexhaustible
+gratification and indulgence.' However, as you say, Alice, I have time
+to look about me, and I see you are tired. We'll talk it over to-morrow
+morning at breakfast. Don't think I have made up my mind; I'll do
+exactly whatever you like best. But get to your bed, you poor little
+soul; you do look so tired!"
+
+With great affection they parted for the night. But Sir Richard did not
+meet her at breakfast.
+
+After she had left the room some time, he changed his mind, left a
+message for his sister with old Crozier, ordered his servant and trap to
+the door, and drove into town. It was not his good angel who prompted
+him. He drove to a place where he was sure to find high play going on,
+and there luck did not favour him.
+
+What had become of Sir Richard Arden's resolutions? The fascinations of
+his old vice were irresistible. The ring of the dice, the whirl of the
+roulette, the plodding pillage of whist--any rite acknowledged by
+Fortune, the goddess of his soul, was welcome to that keen worshipper.
+Luck was not always adverse; once or twice he might have retreated in
+comparative safety; but the temptation to "back his luck" and go on
+prevailed, and left him where he was.
+
+About a week after the evening passed at Mortlake, a black and awful
+night of disaster befel him.
+
+Every other extravagance and vice draws its victim on at a regulated
+pace, but this of gaming is an hourly trifling with life, and one
+infatuated moment may end him. How short had been the reign of the new
+baronet, and where were prince and princedom now?
+
+Before five o'clock in the morning, he had twice spent a quarter of an
+hour tugging at Mr. Levi's office-bell, in the dismal old street in
+Westminster. Then he drove off toward his lodgings. The roulette was
+whirling under his eyes whenever for a moment he closed them. He thought
+he was going mad.
+
+The cabman knew a place where, even at that unseasonable hour, he might
+have a warm bath; and thither Sir Richard ordered him to drive. After
+this, he again essayed the Jew's office. The cool early morning was over
+still quiet London--hardly a soul was stirring. On the steps he waited,
+pulling the office-bell at intervals. In the stillness of the morning,
+he could hear it distinctly in the remote room, ringing unheeded in that
+capacious house.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER LXIII.
+
+PLANS.
+
+
+It was, of course, in vain looking for Mr. Levi there at such an hour.
+Sir Richard Arden fancied that he had, perhaps, a sleeping-room in the
+house, and on that chance tried what his protracted alarm might do.
+
+Then he drove to his own house. He had a latch-key, and let himself in.
+Just as he is, he throws himself into a chair in his dressing-room. He
+knows there is no use in getting into his bed. In his fatigued state,
+sleep was quite out of the question. That proud young man was longing to
+open his heart to the mean, cruel little Jew.
+
+Oh, madness! why had he broken with his masterly and powerful friend,
+Longcluse? Quite unavailing now, his repentance. They had spoken and
+passed like ships at sea, in this wide life, and now who could count the
+miles and billows between them! Never to cross or come in sight again!
+
+Uncle David! Yes, he might go to him; he might spread out the broad
+evidences of his ruin before him, and adjure him, by the God of mercy,
+to save him from the great public disgrace that was now imminent;
+implore of him to give him any pittance he pleased, to subsist on in
+exile, and to deal with the estates as he himself thought best. But
+Uncle David was away, quite out of reach. After his whimsical and
+inflexible custom, lest business should track him in his holiday, he had
+left no address with his man of business, who only knew that his first
+destination was Scotland; none with Grace Maubray, who only knew that,
+attended by Vivian Darnley, she and Lady May were to meet him in about a
+fortnight on the Continent, where they were to plan together a little
+excursion in Switzerland or Italy.
+
+Sir Richard quite forgot there was such a meal as breakfast. He ordered
+his horse to the door, took a furious two hours' ride beyond Brompton,
+and returned and saw Levi at his office, at his usual hour, eleven
+o'clock. The Jew was alone. His large lowering eyes were cast on Sir
+Richard as he entered and approached.
+
+"Look, now; listen," says Sir Richard, who looks wofully wild and pale,
+and as he seats himself never takes his eyes off Mr. Levi. "I don't care
+very much who knows it--I think I'm totally _ruined_."
+
+The Jew knows pretty well all about it, but he stares and gapes
+hypocritically in the face of his visitor as if he were thunderstruck,
+and he speaks never a word. I suppose he thought it as well, for the
+sake of brevity and clearness, to allow his client "to let off the
+shteam" first, a process which Sir Richard forthwith commenced, with
+both hands on the table--sometimes clenched, sometimes expanded,
+sometimes with a thump, by blowing off a cloud of oaths and curses, and
+incoherent expositions of the wrongs and perversities of fortune.
+
+"I don't think I can tell you how much it is. I don't know," says Sir
+Richard bleakly, in reply to a pertinent question of the Jew's. "There
+was that rich fellow, what's his name, that makes candles--he's always
+winning. By Jove, what a thing luck is! He won--I know it is more than
+two thousand. I gave him I O U's for it. He'd be very glad, of course,
+to know me, curse him! I don't care, now, who does. And he'd let me owe
+him twice as much, for as long as I like. I daresay, only too glad--as
+smooth as one of his own filthy candles. And there were three fellows
+lending money there. I don't know how much I got--I was stupid. I signed
+whatever they put before me. Those things can't stand, by heavens; the
+Chancellor will set them all aside. The confounded villains! What's the
+Government doing? What's the Government about, I say? Why don't
+Parliament interfere, to smash those cursed nests of robbers and
+swindlers? Here I am, utterly robbed--I know I'm _robbed_--and all by
+that cursed temptation; and--and--and I don't know what cash I got, nor
+what I have put my name to!"
+
+"I'll make out that in an hour's time. They'll tell me at the houshe who
+the shentleman wazh."
+
+"And--upon my soul that's true--I owe the people there something too; it
+can't be much--it isn't much. And, Levi, like a good fellow--by Heaven,
+I'll _never_ forget it to you, if you'll think of something. You've
+pulled me through so often; I am sure there's good-nature in you; you
+wouldn't see a fellow you've known so long driven to the wall and made a
+beggar of, without--without thinking of something."
+
+Levi looked down, with his hands in his pockets, and whistled to
+himself, and Sir Richard gazed on his vulgar features as if his life or
+death depended upon every variation of their expression.
+
+"You know," says Levi, looking up and swaying his shoulders a little,
+"the old chap can't do no more. He's taken a share in that Austrian
+contract, and he'll want his capital, every pig. I told you lasht time.
+Wouldn't Lonclushe give you a lift?"
+
+"Not he. He'd rather give me a shove under."
+
+"Well, they tell me you and him wazh very thick; and your uncle'sh man,
+Blount, knowshe him, and can just ashk him, from himself, mind, not from
+you."
+
+"For money?" exclaimed Richard.
+
+"Not at a--all," drawled the Jew impatiently. "Lishen--mind. The old
+fellow, your friend----"
+
+"He's out of town," interrupted Richard.
+
+"No, he'sh not. I shaw him lasht night. You're a--all wrong. He'sh not
+Mr. David Harden, if that'sh what you mean. He'sh a better friend, and
+he'll leave you a lot of tin when he diesh--an old friend of the
+family--and if all goeshe shmooth he'll come and have a talk with you
+fashe to fashe, and tell you all his plansh about you, before a week'sh
+over. But he'll be at hish lasht pound for five or six weeksh to come,
+till the firsht half-million of the new shtock is in the market; and he
+shaid, 'I can't draw out a pound of my balanshe, but if he can get
+Lonclushe's na--me, I'll get him any shum he wantsh, and bear Lonclushe
+harmlesh.'"
+
+"I don't think I can," said Sir Richard; "I can't be quite sure, though.
+It is just possible he might."
+
+"Well, let Blount try," said he.
+
+There was another idea also in Mr. Levi's head. He had been thinking
+whether the situation might not be turned to some more profitable
+account, for him, than the barren agency for the "friend of the family,"
+who "lent out money gratis," like Antonio; and if he did not "bring down
+the rate of usance," at all events, deprived the Shylocks of London, in
+one instance at least, of their fair game.
+
+"If he won't do that, there'sh but one chansh left."
+
+"What is that?" asked Sir Richard, with a secret flutter at his heart.
+It was awful to think of himself reduced to his last chance, with his
+recent experience of what a chance is.
+
+"Well," says Mr. Levi, scrawling florid capitals on the table with his
+office pen, and speaking with much deliberation, "I heard you were going
+to make a very rich match; and if the shettlementsh was agreed on, I
+don't know but we might shee our way to advancing all you want."
+
+Sir Richard gets up, and walks slowly two or three times up and down the
+room.
+
+"I'll see about Blount," said he; "I'll talk to him. I think those
+things are payable in six or eight days; and that tallow-chandler won't
+bother me to-morrow, I daresay. I'll go to-day and talk to Blount, and
+suppose you come to me to-morrow evening at Mortlake. Will nine o'clock
+do for you? I sha'n't keep you half-an-hour."
+
+"A--all right, Shir--nine, at Mortlake. If you want any diamondsh, I
+have a beoo--ootiful collar and pendantsh, in that shaafe--brilliantsh.
+I can give you the lot three thoushand under cosht prishe. You'll
+wa--ant a preshent for the young la--ady."
+
+"Yes, I suppose so," said Sir Richard, abstractedly. "To-morrow
+night--to-morrow evening at nine o'clock."
+
+He stopped at the door, looking silently down the stairs, and then
+without leave-taking or looking behind him, he ran down, and drove to
+Mr. Blount's house, close by, in Manchester Buildings.
+
+For more than a year the young gentleman whom we are following this
+morning had cherished vague aspirations, of which good Lady May had been
+the object. There was nothing to prevent their union, for the lady was
+very well disposed to listen. But Richard Arden did not like ridicule,
+and there was no need to hurry; and besides, within the last half-year
+had arisen another flame, less mercenary; also, perhaps, reciprocated.
+
+Grace Maubray was handsome, animated; she had that combination of air,
+tact, cleverness, which enter into the idea of _chic_. With him it had
+been a financial, but notwithstanding rather agreeable, speculation.
+Hitherto there seemed ample time before him, and there was no need to
+define or decide.
+
+Now, you will understand, the crisis had arrived, which admitted of
+neither hesitation nor delay. He was now at Blount's hall-door. He was
+certain that he could trust Blount with anything, and he meant to learn
+from him what _dot_ his Uncle David intended bestowing on the young
+lady.
+
+Mr. Blount was at home. He smiled kindly, and took the young gentleman's
+hand, and placed a chair for him.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER LXIV.
+
+FROM FLOWER TO FLOWER.
+
+
+Mr. Blount was intelligent: he was an effective though not an artful
+diplomatist. He promptly undertook to sound Mr. Longcluse without
+betraying Sir Richard.
+
+Richard Arden did not allude to his losses. He took good care to appear
+pretty nearly as usual. When he confessed his _tendresse_ for Miss
+Maubray, the grave gentleman smiled brightly, and took him by the hand.
+
+"If _you_ should marry the young lady, mark you, she will have sixty
+thousand pounds down, and sixty thousand more after Mr. David Arden's
+death. That is splendid, Sir, and I think it will please him _very_
+much."
+
+"I have suffered a great deal, Mr. Blount, by neglecting his advice
+hitherto. It shall be my chief object, henceforward, to reform, and to
+live as he wishes. I believe people can't learn wisdom without
+suffering."
+
+"Will you take a biscuit and a glass of sherry, Sir Richard?" asked Mr.
+Blount.
+
+"Nothing, thanks," said Sir Richard. "You know, I'm not as rich as I
+might have been, and marriage is a very serious step; and you are one of
+the oldest and most sensible friends I have, and you'll understand that
+it is only right I should be very sure before taking such a step,
+involving not myself only, but another who ought to be dearer still,
+that there should be no mistake about the means on which we may reckon.
+Are you quite sure that my uncle's intentions are still exactly what you
+mentioned?"
+
+"Perfectly; he authorised me to say so two months ago, and on the eve of
+his departure on Friday last he repeated his instructions."
+
+Sir Richard, in silence, shook the old man very cordially by the hand,
+and was gone.
+
+As he drove to his house in May Fair, Sir Richard's thoughts, among
+other things, turned again upon the question, "Who could his mysterious
+benefactor be?"
+
+Once or twice had dimly visited his mind a theory which, ever since his
+recent conversation with Mr. Levi, had been growing more solid and
+vivid. An illegitimate brother of his father's, Edwin Raikes, had gone
+out to Australia early in life, with a purse to which three brothers,
+the late Sir Reginald, Harry, and David, had contributed. He had not
+maintained any correspondence with English friends and kindred; but
+rumours from time to time reached home that he had amassed a fortune.
+His feelings to the family of Arden had always been kindly. He was older
+than Uncle David, and had well earned a retirement from the life of
+exertion and exile which had consumed all the vigorous years of his
+manhood. Was this the "old party" for whom Mr. Levi was acting?
+
+With this thought opened a new and splendid hope upon the mind of Sir
+Richard. Here was a fortune, if rumour spoke truly, which, combined with
+David Arden's, would be amply sufficient to establish the old baronetage
+upon a basis of solid magnificence such as it had never rested on
+before.
+
+It would not do, however, to wait for this. The urgency of the situation
+demanded immediate action. Sir Richard made an elaborate toilet, after
+which, in a hansom, he drove to Lady May Penrose's.
+
+If our hero had had fewer things to think about he would have gone
+first, I fancy, to Miss Grace Maubray. It could do no great harm,
+however, to feel his way a little with Lady May, he thought, as he
+chatted with that plump alternative of his tender dilemma. But in this
+wooing there was a difficulty of a whimsical kind. Poor Lady May was so
+easily won, and made so many openings for his advances, that he was at
+his wits' end to find evasions by which to postpone the happy crisis
+which she palpably expected. He did succeed, however; and with a promise
+of calling again, with the lady's permission, that evening, he took his
+leave.
+
+Before making his call at his uncle's house, in the hope of seeing Grace
+Maubray, he had to return to Mr. Blount, in Manchester Buildings, where
+he hoped to receive from that gentleman a report of his interview with
+Mr. Longcluse.
+
+I shall tell you here what that report related. Mr. Longcluse was
+fortunately still at his house when Mr. Blount called, and immediately
+admitted him. Mr. Longcluse's horse and groom were at the door; he was
+on the point of taking his ride. His gloves and whip were beside him on
+the table as Mr. Blount entered.
+
+Mr. Blount made his apologies, and was graciously received. His visit
+was, in truth, by no means unwelcome.
+
+"Mr. David Arden very well, I hope?"
+
+"Quite well, thanks. He has left town."
+
+"Indeed! And where has he gone--the moors?"
+
+"To Scotland, but not to shoot, I think. And he's going abroad
+then--going to travel."
+
+"On the Continent? How nice that is! What part?"
+
+"Switzerland and Italy, I think," said Mr. Blount, omitting all mention
+of Paris, where Mr. Arden was going first to make a visit to the Baron
+Vanboeren.
+
+"He's going over ground that I know very well," said Mr. Longcluse.
+"Happy man! He can't quite break away from his business, though, I
+daresay."
+
+"He never tells us where a letter will find him, and the consequence is
+his holidays are never spoiled."
+
+"Not a bad plan, Mr. Blount. Won't he visit the Paris Exhibition?"
+
+"I rather think not."
+
+"Can I do anything for you, Mr. Blount?"
+
+"Well, Mr. Longcluse, I just called to ask you a question. I have been
+invited to take part in arranging a little matter which I take an
+interest in, because it affects the Arden estates."
+
+"Is Sir Richard Arden interested in it?" inquired Mr. Longcluse, gently
+and coldly.
+
+"Yes, I rather fancy he would be benefited."
+
+"I have had a good deal of unpleasantness, and, I might add, a great
+deal of ingratitude from that quarter, and I have made up my mind never
+again to have anything to do with him or his affairs. I have no
+unpleasant _feeling_, you understand; no resentment; there is nothing,
+of course, he could say or do that could in the least affect me. It is
+simply that, having coolly reviewed his conduct, I have quite made up my
+mind to aid in nothing in which he has act, part, or interest."
+
+"It was not _directly_, but simply as a surety----"
+
+"All the same, so far as I'm concerned," said Mr. Longcluse sharply.
+
+"And only, I fancied, it might be, as Mr. David Arden is absent, and you
+should be protected by satisfactory joint security----"
+
+"I won't do it," said Mr. Longcluse, a little brusquely; and he took out
+his watch and glanced at it impatiently.
+
+"Sir Richard, I think, will be in funds immediately," said Mr. Blount.
+
+"How so?" asked Mr. Longcluse. "You'll excuse me, as you press the
+subject, for saying _that_ will be something new."
+
+"Well," said Mr. Blount, who saw that his last words had made an
+impression, "Sir Richard is likely to be married, very advantageously,
+immediately."
+
+"Are settlements agreed on?" inquired Mr. Longcluse, with real interest.
+
+"No, not yet; but I know all about them."
+
+"He is accepted then?"
+
+"He has not proposed yet; but there can be, I fancy, no doubt that the
+lady likes him, and all will go right."
+
+"Oh! and who is the lady?"
+
+"I'm not at liberty to tell."
+
+"Quite right; I ought not to have asked," says Mr. Longcluse; and looks
+down, slapping at intervals the side of his trousers lightly with his
+whip. He raises his eyes to Mr. Blount's face, and looks on the point of
+asking another question, but he does not.
+
+"It is my opinion," said Mr. Blount, "the kindness would involve
+absolutely no risk whatever."
+
+There was a little pause. Mr. Longcluse looks rather dark and anxious;
+perhaps his mind has wandered quite from the business before them. But
+it returns, and he says,--
+
+"Risk or no risk, Mr. Blount, I don't mean to do him that kindness; and
+for how long will Mr. David Arden be absent?"
+
+"Unless he should take a sudden thought to return, he'll be away at
+least two months."
+
+"Where is he?--in Scotland?"
+
+"I _really_ don't know."
+
+"Couldn't one see him for a few minutes before he starts? Where does he
+take the steamer?"
+
+"Southampton."
+
+"And on what day?"
+
+"You really want a word with him?" asked Blount, whose hopes revived.
+
+"I may."
+
+"Well, the only person who will know that is Mr. Humphries, of Pendle
+Castle, near that town; for he has to transact some trust-business with
+that gentleman as he passes through."
+
+"Humphries, of Pendle Castle. Very good; thanks."
+
+Mr. Longcluse looks again at his watch.
+
+"And perhaps you will reconsider the matter I spoke of?"
+
+"No use, Mr. Blount--not the least. I have quite made up my mind.
+Anything more? I am afraid I must be off."
+
+"Nothing, thanks," said Mr. Blount.
+
+And so the interview ended.
+
+When he was gone, Mr. Longcluse thought darkly for a minute.
+
+"That's a straightforward fellow, they say. I suppose the facts are so.
+It can't be, though, that Miss Maubray, that handsome creature with so
+much money, is thinking of marrying that insolent coxcomb. It may be
+Lady May, but the other is more likely. We must not allow _that_, Sir
+Richard. That would never do."
+
+There was a fixed frown on his face, and he was smiling in his dream.
+Out he went. His pale face looked as if he meditated a wicked joke, and,
+frowning still in utter abstraction, he took the bridle from his groom,
+mounted, looked about him as if just wakened, and set off at a canter,
+followed by his servant, for David Arden's house.
+
+Smiling, gay, as if no care had ever crossed him, Longcluse enters the
+drawing-room, where he finds the handsome young lady writing a note at
+that moment.
+
+"Mr. Longcluse, I'm so glad you've come!" she says, with a brilliant
+smile. "I was writing to poor Lady Ethel, who is mourning, you know, in
+the country. The death of her father in the house was so awfully sudden,
+and I'm telling her all the news I can think of to amuse her. And is it
+really true that old Sir Thomas Giggles has grown so cross with his
+pretty young wife, and objects to her allowing Lord Knocknea to make
+love to her?"
+
+"Quite true. It is a very bad quarrel, and I'm afraid it can't be made
+up," said Mr. Longcluse.
+
+"It must be very bad, indeed, if Sir Thomas can't make it up; for he
+allowed his first wife, I am told, to do anything she pleased. Is it to
+be a separation?"
+
+"At _least_. And you heard, I suppose, of poor old Lady Glare?"
+
+"No!"
+
+"She has been rolling ever so long, you know, in a sea of troubles, and
+now, at last, she has fairly foundered."
+
+"How do you mean?"
+
+"They have sold her diamonds," said Mr. Longcluse. "Didn't you hear?"
+
+"No! Really? Sold her diamonds? Good Heaven! Then there's nothing left
+of her but her teeth. I hope they won't sell them."
+
+"It is an awful misfortune," said Mr. Longcluse.
+
+"Misfortune! She's utterly ruined. It was her diamonds that people
+asked. I am really sorry. She was such fun; she was so fat, and such a
+fool, and said such delicious things, and dressed herself so like a
+macaw. Alas! I shall never see her more; and people thought her only use
+on earth was to carry about her diamonds. No one seemed to perceive what
+a delightful creature she was. What about Lady May Penrose? I have not
+seen her since I came back from Cowes, the day before yesterday, and we
+leave London together on Tuesday."
+
+"Lady May! Oh! she is to receive a very interesting communication, I
+believe. She is one name on a pretty long and very distinguished list,
+which Sir Richard Arden, I am told, has made out, and carries about with
+him in his pocket-book."
+
+"You're talking riddles; pray speak plainly."
+
+"Well, Lady May is one of several ladies who are to be honoured with a
+proposal."
+
+"And would you have me believe that Sir Richard Arden has really made
+such a fool of himself as to make out a list of eligible ladies whom he
+is about to ask to marry him, and that he has had the excellent good
+sense and taste to read this list to his acquaintance?"
+
+"I mean to say this--I'll tell the whole story--Sir Richard has ruined
+himself at play; take that as a fact to start with. He is literally
+ruined. His uncle is away; but I don't think any man in his senses would
+think of paying his losses for him. He turns, therefore, naturally, to
+the more amiable and less arithmetical sex, and means to invite, in
+turn, a series of fair and affluent admirers to undertake, by means of
+suitable settlements, that interesting office for him."
+
+"I don't think you like him, Mr. Longcluse; is not that a story a little
+too like 'The Merry Wives of Windsor?'"
+
+"It is quite certain I don't like him, and it is quite certain," added
+Mr. Longcluse, with one of his cold little laughs, "that if I did like
+him, I should not tell the story; but it is also certain that the story
+is, in all its parts, strictly fact. If you permit me the pleasure of a
+call in two or three days, you will tell me you no longer doubt it."
+
+Mr. Longcluse was looking down as he said that with a gentle and smiling
+significance. The young lady blushed a little, and then more intensely,
+as he spoke, and looking through the window, asked with a laugh,--
+
+"But how shall we know whether he really speaks to Lady May?"
+
+"Possibly by his marrying her," laughed Mr. Longcluse. "He certainly
+will if he can, unless he is caught and married on the way to her
+house."
+
+"He was a little unfortunate in showing you his list, wasn't he?" said
+Grace Maubray.
+
+"I did not say that. If there had been any, the least, confidence,
+nothing on earth could have induced me to divulge it. We are not even,
+at present, on speaking terms. He had the coolness to send a Mr. Blount,
+who transacts all Mr. David Arden's affairs, to ask me to become his
+security, Mr. Arden being away; and by way of inducing me to do so, he
+disclosed, with the coarseness which is the essence of business, the
+matrimonial schemes which are to recoup, within a few days, the losses
+of the roulette, the whist-table, or the dice-box."
+
+"Oh! Mr. Blount, I'm told, is a very honest man."
+
+"Quite so; particularly accurate, and I don't think anything on earth
+would induce him to tell an untruth," testifies Mr. Longcluse.
+
+After a little pause, Miss Maubray laughs.
+
+"One certainly does learn," she said, "something new every day. Could
+any one have fancied a _gentleman_ descending to so gross a meanness?"
+
+"Everybody is a gentleman now-a-days," remarked Mr. Longcluse with a
+smile; "but every one is not a hero--they give way, more or less, under
+temptation. Those who stand the test of the crucible and the furnace are
+seldom met with."
+
+At this moment the door opened, and Lord Wynderbroke was announced. A
+little start, a lighting of the eyes, as Grace rose, and a fluttered
+advance, with a very pretty little hand extended, to meet him,
+testified, perhaps, rather more surprise than one would have quite
+expected. For Mr. Longcluse, who did not know him so well as Miss
+Maubray, recognised his voice, which was peculiar, and resembling the
+caw of a jay, as he put a question to the servant on his way up.
+
+Mr. Longcluse took his leave. He was not sorry that Lord Wynderbroke had
+called. He wished no success to Sir Richard's wooing. He thought he had
+pretty well settled the question in Miss Maubray's mind, and smiling, he
+rode at a pleasant canter to Lady May's. It was as well, perhaps, that
+she should hear the same story. Lady May, however, unfortunately, had
+just gone out for a drive.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER LXV.
+
+BEHIND THE ARRAS.
+
+
+It was quite true that Lady May was not at home. She was actually, with
+a little charming palpitation, driving to pay a very interesting visit
+to Grace Maubray. In affairs of the kind that now occupied her mind, she
+had no confidants but very young people.
+
+Miss Maubray was at home--and instantly Lady May's plump instep was seen
+on the carriage step. She disdained assistance, and descended with a
+heavy skip upon the flags, where she executed an involuntary frisk that
+carried her a little out of the line of advance.
+
+As she ascended the stairs, she met her friend Lord Wynderbroke coming
+down. They stopped for a moment on the landing, under a picture of Cupid
+and Venus; Lady May, smiling, remarked, a little out of breath, what a
+charming day it was, and expressed her amazement at seeing him in
+town--a surprise which he agreeably reciprocated. He had been at
+Glenkiltie in the Highlands, where he had accidentally met Mr. David
+Arden. "Miss Maubray is in the drawing-room," he said, observing that
+the eyes of the good lady glanced unconsciously upward at the door of
+that room. And then they parted affectionately, and turned their backs
+on each other with a sense of relief.
+
+"Well, my dear," she said to Grace Maubray as soon as they had kissed,
+"longing to have a few minutes with you, with ever so much to say. You
+have no idea what it is to be stopped on the stairs by that tiresome
+man--I'll never quarrel with you again for calling him a bore. No
+matter, here I am; and really, my dear, it _is_ such an odd affair--not
+quite that; such an odd scene, I don't know where or how to begin."
+
+"I wish I could help you," said Miss Maubray laughing.
+
+"Oh, my dear, you'd never guess in a hundred years."
+
+"How do you know? Hasn't a certain baronet something to do with it?"
+
+"Well, well--dear me! That is _very_ extraordinary. Did he tell you he
+was going to--to--Good gracious! My dear, it _is_ the most extraordinary
+thing. I believe you hear everything; but--a--but _listen_. Not an hour
+ago he came--Richard Arden, of course, we mean--and, my dear Grace, he
+spoke so very nicely of his troubles, poor fellow, you know--debts I
+mean, of course--not the least his fault, and all that kind of thing,
+and--he went on--I really don't know how to tell you. But he said--he
+said--he said he liked me, and no one else on earth; and he was on the
+very point of saying _everything_, when, just at that moment, who should
+come in but that gossiping old woman, Lady Botherton--and he whispered,
+as he was going, that he would return, after I had had my drive. The
+carriage was at the door, so, when I got rid of the old woman, I got
+into it, and came straight here to have a talk with you; and what do you
+think I ought to say? Do tell me, like a darling, do!"
+
+"I wish you would tell _me_ what one ought to say to that question,"
+said Grace Maubray with a slight disdain (that young lady was in the
+most unreasonable way piqued), "for I'm told he's going to ask me
+precisely the same question."
+
+"_You_, my dear?" said Lady May after a pause, during which she was
+staring at the smiling face of the young lady; "you can't be serious!"
+
+"_He_ can't be serious, you mean," answered the young lady, "and--who's
+this?" she broke off, as she saw a cab drive up to the hall-door. "Dear
+me! is it? No. Yes, indeed, it is Sir Richard Arden. We must not be seen
+together. He'll know you have been talking to me. Just go in here."
+
+She opened the door of the boudoir adjoining the room.
+
+"I'll send him away in a moment. You may hear every word I have to say.
+I should like it. I shall give him a lecture."
+
+As she thus spoke she heard his step on the stair, and motioned Lady May
+into the inner room, into which she hurried and closed the door, leaving
+it only a little way open.
+
+These arrangements are hardly completed when Sir Richard is announced.
+Grace is positively angry. But never had she looked so beautiful; her
+eyes so tenderly lustrous under their long lashes; her colour so
+brilliant--an expression so maidenly and sad. If it was acting, it was
+very well done. You would have sworn that the melancholy and agitation
+of her looks, and the slightly quickened movement of her breathing, were
+those of a person who felt that the hour of her fate had come.
+
+With what elation Richard Arden saw these beautiful signs!
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER LXVI.
+
+A BUBBLE BROKEN.
+
+
+After a few words had been exchanged, Grace said in reply to a question
+of Sir Richard's,--
+
+"Lady May and I are going together, you know: in a day or two we shall
+be at Brighton. I mean to bid Alice good-bye to-day. There--I mean at
+Brighton--we are to meet Vivian Darnley, and possibly another friend;
+and we go to meet your uncle at that pretty little town in Switzerland,
+where Lady May----I wonder, by-the-bye, you did not arrange to come with
+us; Lady May travels with us the entire time. She says there are some
+very interesting ruins there."
+
+"Why, dear old soul!" said Sir Richard, who felt called upon to say
+something to set himself right with respect to Lady May, "she's thinking
+of quite another place. She will be herself the only interesting ruin
+there."
+
+"I think you wish to vex me," said pretty Grace, turning away with a
+smile, which showed, nevertheless, that this kind of joke was not an
+unmixed vexation to her. "I don't care for ruins myself."
+
+"Nor do I," he said, archly.
+
+"But you don't think so of Lady May. I know you don't. You are franker
+with her than with me, and you tell her a very different tale."
+
+"I must be very frank, then, if I tell her more than I know myself. I
+never said a civil thing of Lady May, except once or twice, to the poor
+old thing herself, when I wanted her to do one or two little things, to
+please _you_."
+
+"Oh! come, you can't deceive me; I've seen you place your hand to your
+heart, like a theatrical hero, when you little fancied any one but she
+saw it."
+
+"Now, really, that is too bad. I may have put my hand to my side, when
+it ached from laughing."
+
+"How can you talk so? You know very well I have heard you tell her how
+you admire her music and her landscapes."
+
+"No, no--not landscapes--she paints faces. But her colouring is, as
+artists say, too chalky--and nothing but red and white, like--what is it
+like?--like a clown. Why did not she get the late Mr. Etty--she's always
+talking of him--to teach her something of his tints?"
+
+"You are not to speak so of Lady May. You forget she is my particular
+friend," says the young lady; but her pretty face does not express so
+much severity as her words. "I do think you like her. You merely talk so
+to throw dust in people's eyes. Why should not you be frank with me?"
+
+"I wish I dare be frank with you," said Sir Richard.
+
+"And why not?"
+
+"How can I tell how my disclosures might be punished? My frankness might
+extinguish the best hope I live for; a few rash words might make me a
+very unhappy man for life."
+
+"Really? Then I can quite understand that reflection alarming you in the
+midst of a _tête-à-tête_ with Lady May; and even interrupting an
+interesting conversation."
+
+Sir Richard looked at her quickly, but her looks were perfectly artless.
+
+"I really do wish you would spare me all further allusion to that good
+woman. I can bear that kind of fun from any one but you. Why will you?
+she is old enough to be my mother. She is fat, and painted, and
+ridiculous. You think me totally without romance? I wish to heaven I
+were. There is a reason, that makes your saying all that particularly
+cruel. I am not the sordid creature you take me for. I'm not insensible.
+I'm not a mere stock of stone. Never was human being more capable of the
+wildest passion. Oh, if I dare tell you all!"
+
+Was all this acting? Certainly not. Never was shallow man, for the
+moment, more in earnest. Cool enough he was, although he had always
+admired this young lady, when he entered the room. He had made that
+entrance, nevertheless, in a spirit quite dramatic. But Miss Maubray
+never looked so brilliant, never half so tender. He took fire--the
+situation aiding quite unexpectedly--and the flame was real. It might
+have been over as quickly as a balloon on fire; but for the moment the
+conflagration was intense.
+
+How was Miss Maubray affected? An immensely abler performer than the
+young gentleman who had entered the room with his part at his fingers'
+ends, and all his looks and emphasis arranged--only to break through all
+this, and begin extemporising wildly--she, on the contrary, maintained
+her _rôle_ with admirable coolness. It was not, perhaps, so easy; for
+notwithstanding appearances, her histrionic powers were severely tasked;
+for never was she more angry. Her self-esteem was wounded; the fancy (it
+was no more), she had cherished for him was gone, and a great disgust
+was there instead.
+
+"You shall ask me no questions till I have done asking mine," said the
+young lady, with decision; "and I will speak as much as I please of Lady
+May!"
+
+This jealousy flattered Sir Richard.
+
+"And I will say this," continued Grace Maubray, "you never address her
+except as a lover, in what you romantic people would call the language
+of love."
+
+"Now, now, now! How can you say that? Is that fair?"
+
+"You do."
+
+"No, really, I swear--that's _too_ bad!"
+
+"Yes, the other day, when you spoke to her at the carriage window--you
+did not think I heard--you accused her so tenderly of having failed to
+go to Lady Harbroke's garden-party, and you couldn't say what you meant
+in plain terms, but you said, 'Why were you false?'"
+
+"I didn't, I swear."
+
+"Oh! you did; I heard every syllable; 'false' was the word."
+
+"Well, if I said 'false,' I must have been thinking of her hair; for she
+is really a very honest old woman."
+
+At this moment a female voice in distress is heard, and poor Lady May
+comes pushing out of the pretty little room, in which Grace Maubray had
+placed her, sobbing and shedding floods of tears.
+
+"I can't stay there any longer, for I hear everything; I can't help
+hearing every word--honest old woman, and all--opprobrious. Oh! how
+_can_ people be so? how _can_ they? Oh! I'm very angry--I'm very
+angry--I'm very angry!"
+
+If Miss Maubray were easily moved to pity she might have been at sight
+of the big innocent eyes turned up at her, from which rolled great
+tears, making visible channels through the paint down her cheeks. She
+sobbed and wept like a fat, good-natured child, and pitifully she
+continued sobbing, "Oh, I'm a-a-ho--very angry; wha-at shall I do-o-o,
+my dear? I-I'm very angry--oh, oh--I'm very a-a-angry!"
+
+"So am I," said Grace Maubray, with a fiery glance at the young baronet,
+who stood fixed where he was, like an image of death; "and I had
+intended, dear Lady May, telling you a thing which Sir Richard Arden may
+as well hear, as I mean to write to tell Alice to-day; it is that I am
+to be married--I have accepted Lord Wynderbroke--and--and that's all."
+
+Sir Richard, I believe, said "Good-bye." Nobody heard him. I don't think
+he remembers how he got on his horse. I don't think the ladies saw him
+leave the room--only, he was gone.
+
+Poor Lady May takes her incoherent leave. She has got her veil over her
+face, to baffle curiosity. Miss Maubray stands at the window, the tip of
+her finger to her brilliant lip, contemplating Lady May as she gets in
+with a great jerk and swing of the carriage, and she hears the footman
+say "Home," and sees a fat hand, in a lilac glove, pull up the window
+hurriedly. Then she sits down on a sofa, and laughs till she quivers
+again, and tears overflow her eyes; and she says in the intervals,
+almost breathlessly,--
+
+"Oh, poor old thing! I really am sorry. Who could have thought she cared
+so much? Poor old soul! what a ridiculous old thing!"
+
+Such broken sentences of a rather contemptuous pity rolled and floated
+along the even current of her laughter.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER LXVII.
+
+BOND AND DEED.
+
+
+The summer span of days was gone; it was quite dark, and long troops of
+withered leaves drifted in rustling trains over the avenue, as Mr. Levi,
+observant of his appointment, drove up to the grand old front of
+Mortlake, which in the dark spread before him like a house of white
+mist.
+
+"I shay," exclaimed Mr. Levi, softly, arresting the progress of the
+cabman, who was about running up the steps, "I'll knock myshelf--wait
+you there."
+
+Mr. Levi was smoking. Standing at the base of the steps, he looked up,
+and right and left with some curiosity. It was too dark; he could hardly
+see the cold glimmer of the windows that reflected the grey horizon.
+Vaguely, however, he could see that it was a grander place than he had
+supposed. He looked down the avenue, and between the great trees over
+the gate he saw the distant lights, and heard through the dim air the
+chimes, far off, from London steeples, succeeding one another, or
+mingling faintly, and telling all whom it might concern the solemn
+lesson of the flight of time.
+
+Mr. Levi thought it might be worth while coming down in the day-time,
+and looking over the house and place to see what could be made of them;
+the thing was sure to go a dead bargain. At present he could see nothing
+but the wide, vague, grey front, and the faint glow through the hall
+windows, which showed their black outlines sharply enough.
+
+"Well, _he_'sh come a mucker, anyhow," murmured Mr. Levi, with one of
+his smiles that showed so wide his white sharp teeth.
+
+He knocked at the door and rang the bell. It was not a footman, but
+Crozier who opened it. The old servant of the family did not like the
+greasy black curls, the fierce jet eyes, the sallow face and the large,
+moist, sullen mouth, that presented themselves under the brim of Mr.
+Levi's hat, nor the tawdry glimmer of chains on his waistcoat, nor the
+cigar still burning in his fingers. Sir Richard had told Crozier,
+however, that a Mr. Levi, whom he described, was to call at a certain
+hour, on very particular business, and was to be instantly admitted.
+
+Mr. Levi looks round him, and extinguishes his cigar before following
+Crozier, whose countenance betrays no small contempt and dislike, as he
+eyes the little man askance, as if he would like well to be uncivil to
+him.
+
+Crozier leads him to the right, through a small apartment, to a vast
+square room, long disused, still called the library, though but few
+books remain on the shelves, and those in disorder. It is a chilly
+night, and a little fire burns in the grate, over which Sir Richard is
+cowering. Very haggard, the baronet starts up as the name of his visitor
+is announced.
+
+"Come in," cries Sir Richard, walking to meet him. "Here--here I am,
+Levi, utterly ruined. There isn't a soul I dare tell how I am beset, or
+anything to, but you. Do, for God's sake take pity on me, and think of
+something! my brain's quite gone--you're such a clever fellow" (he is
+dragging Levi by the arm all this time towards the candles): "do now,
+you're sure to see some way out. It is a matter of _honour_; I only want
+time. If I could only find my Uncle David: think of his
+selfishness--good heaven! was there ever man so treated? and there's the
+bank letter--_there_--on the table; you see it--dunning me, the
+ungrateful harpies, for the trifle--what is it?--three hundred and
+something, I overdrew; and that blackguard tallow-chandler has been
+three times to my house in town, for payment to-day, and it's more than
+I thought--near four thousand, he says--the scoundrel! It's just the
+same to him two months hence; he's full of money, the beast--a fellow
+like that--it's delight to him to get hold of a gentleman, and he won't
+take a bill--the lying rascal! He is pressed for cash just now--a
+pug-faced villain with three hundred thousand pounds! Those scoundrels!
+I mean the people, whatever they are, that lent me the money; it turns
+out it was all but at sight, and they were with my attorney to-day, and
+they won't wait. I wish I was shot; I envy the dead dogs rolling in the
+Thames! By heaven; Levi, I'll say you're the best friend man ever had on
+earth, I will, if you manage something! I'll never forget it to you;
+I'll have it in my power, yet! no one ever said I was ungrateful; I
+swear I'll be the making of you! _Do_, Levi, think; you're accustomed
+to--to emergency, and unless you will, I'm utterly ruined--ruined, by
+heaven, before I have time to think!"
+
+The Jew listened to all this with his hands in his pockets, leaning back
+in his chair, with his big eyes staring on the wild face of the baronet,
+and his heavy mouth hanging. He was trying to reduce his countenance to
+vacancy.
+
+"What about them shettlements, Sir Richard--a nishe young lady with a
+ha-a-tful o' money?" insinuated Levi.
+
+"I've been thinking over that, but it wouldn't do, with my affairs in
+this state, it would not be honourable or straight. Put that quite
+aside."
+
+Mr. Levi gaped at him for a moment solemnly, and turned suddenly, and,
+brute as he was, spit on the Turkey carpet. He was not, as you perceive,
+ceremonious; but he could not allow the baronet to see the laughter that
+without notice caught him for a moment, and could think of no better way
+to account for his turning away his head.
+
+"That'sh wery honourable indeed," said the Jew, more solemn than ever;
+"and if you can't play in that direction, I'm afraid you're in queer
+shtreet."
+
+The baronet was standing before Levi, and at these words from that dirty
+little oracle, a terrible chill stole up from his feet to the crown of
+his head. Like a frozen man he stood there, and the Jew saw that his
+very lips were white. Sir Richard feels, for the first time, actually,
+that he is ruined.
+
+The young man tries to speak, twice. The big eyes of the Jew are staring
+up at the contortion. Sir Richard can see nothing but those two big
+fiery eyes; he turns quickly away and walks to the end of the room.
+
+"There's just one fiddle-string left to play on," muses the Jew.
+
+"For God's sake!" exclaims Sir Richard, turning about, in a voice you
+would not have known, and for fully a minute the room was so silent you
+could scarcely have believed that two men were breathing in it.
+
+"Shir Richard, will you be so good as to come nearer a bit? There,
+that'sh the cheeshe. I brought thish 'ere thing."
+
+It is a square parchment with a good deal of printed matter, and blanks,
+written in, and a law stamp fixed with an awful regularity, at the
+corner.
+
+"Casht your eye over it," says Levi, coaxingly, as he pushes it over the
+table to the young gentleman, who is sitting now at the other side.
+
+The young man looks at it, reads it, but just then, if it had been a
+page of "Robinson Crusoe," he could not have understood it.
+
+"I'm not quite myself, I can't follow it; too much to think of. What is
+it?"
+
+"A bond and warrant to confess judgment."
+
+"What is it for?"
+
+"Ten thoushand poundsh."
+
+"Sign it, shall I? Can you do anything with it?"
+
+"Don't raishe your voishe, but lishten. Your friend"--and at the phrase
+Mr. Levi winked mysteriously--"has enough to do it twishe over; and upon
+my shoul, I'll shwear on the book, azh I hope to be shaved, it will
+never shee the light; he'll never raishe a pig on it, sho' 'elp me, nor
+let it out of hish 'ands, till he givesh it back to you. He can't ma-ake
+no ushe of it; I knowshe him well, and he'll pay you the ten thoushand
+to-morrow morning, and he wantsh to shake handsh with you, and make
+himself known to you, and talk a bit."
+
+"But--but my signature wouldn't satisfy him," began Sir Richard
+bewildered.
+
+"Oh! _no_--no, no?" murmured Mr. Levi, fiddling with the corner of the
+bank's reminder which lay on the table.
+
+"Mr. Longcluse won't sign it," said Sir Richard.
+
+Mr. Levi threw himself back in his chair, and looked with a roguish
+expression still upon the table, and gave the corner of the note a
+little fillip.
+
+"Well," said Levi, after both had been some time silent, "it ain't much,
+only to write his name on the penshil line, _there_, you see, and
+_there_--he shouldn't make no bonesh about it. Why, it's done every day.
+Do you think I'd help in a thing of the short if there was any danger?
+The Sheneral's come to town, is he? What are you afraid of? Don't you be
+a shild--ba-ah!"
+
+All this Mr. Levi said so low that it was as if he were whispering to
+the table, and he kept looking down as he put the parchment over to Sir
+Richard, who took it in his hand, and the bond trembled so much that he
+set it down again.
+
+"Leave it with me," he said faintly.
+
+Levi got up with an unusual hectic in each cheek, and his eyes very
+brilliant.
+
+"I'll meet you what time you shay to-night; you had besht take a little
+time. It'sh ten now. Three hoursh will do it. I'll go on to my offish by
+one o'clock, and you come any time from one to two."
+
+Sir Richard was trembling.
+
+"Between one and two, mind. Hang it! Shir Richard, don't you be a fool
+about nothing," whispers the Jew, as black as thunder.
+
+He is fumbling in his breast-pocket, and pulling out a sheaf of letters;
+he selects one, which he throws upon the parchment that lies open on the
+table.
+
+"That'sh the note you forgot in my offish yeshterday, with hish name
+shined to it. There, now you have everything."
+
+Without any form of valediction, the Jew had left the room. Sir Richard
+sits with his teeth set, and a strange frown upon his face, scarcely
+breathing. He hears the cab drive away. Before him on the table lie the
+papers.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER LXVIII.
+
+SIR RICHARD'S RESOLUTION.
+
+
+Two hours had passed, and more, of solitude. With a candle in his hand,
+and his hat and great-coat on, Sir Richard Arden came out into the hall.
+His trap awaited him at the door.
+
+In the interval of his solitude, something incredible has happened to
+him. It is over. A spectral secret accompanies him henceforward. A devil
+sits in his pocket, in that parchment. He dares not think of himself.
+Something sufficient to shake the world of London, and set all English
+Christian tongues throughout the earth wagging on one theme, has
+happened.
+
+Does he repent? One thing is certain: he dares not falter. Something
+within him once or twice commanded him to throw his crime into the fire,
+while yet it is obliterable. But what then? what of to-morrow? Into that
+sheer black sea of ruin, that reels and yawns as deep as eye can fathom
+beneath him, he must dive and see the light no more. Better his chance.
+
+He won't think of what he has done, of what he is going to do. He
+suspects his courage: he dares not tempt his cowardice. Braver, perhaps,
+it would have been to meet the worst at once. But surely, according to
+the theory of chances, we have played the true game. Is not a little
+time gained, everything? Are we not in friendly hands? Has not that
+little scoundrel committed himself, by an all but actual participation
+in the affair? It can never come to _that_. "I have only to confess, and
+throw myself at Uncle David's feet, and the one dangerous debt would
+instantly be brought up and cancelled."
+
+These thoughts came vaguely, and on his heart lay an all but
+insupportable load. The sight of the staircase reminded him that Alice
+must long since have gone to her room. He yearned to see her and say
+good-night. It was the last farewell that the brother she had known from
+her childhood till now should ever speak or look. That brother was to
+die to-night, and a spirit of guilt to come in his stead.
+
+He taps lightly at her door. She is asleep. He opens it, and dimly sees
+her innocent head upon the pillow. If his shadow were cast upon her
+dream, what an image would she have seen looking in at the door! A
+sudden horror seizes him--he draws back and closes the door; on the
+lobby he pauses. It was a last moment of grace. He stole down the
+stairs, mounted his tax-cart, took the reins from his servant in
+silence, and drove swiftly into town. In Parliament Street, near the
+corner of the street leading to Levi's office, they passed a policeman,
+lounging on the flagway. Richard Arden is in a strangely nervous state;
+he fancies he will stop and question him, and he touches the horse with
+the whip to get quickly by.
+
+In his breast-pocket he carried his ghastly secret. A pretty business if
+he happened to be thrown out, and a policeman should make an inventory
+of his papers, as he lay insensible in an hospital--a pleasant thing if
+he were robbed in these villanous streets, and the bond advertised, for
+a reward, by a pretended finder. A nice thing, good heaven! if it should
+wriggle and slip its way out of his pocket, in the jolting and tremble
+of the drive, and fall into London hands, either rascally or severe. He
+pulled up, and gave the reins to the servant, and felt, however
+gratefully, with his fingers, the crisp crumple of the parchment under
+the cloth! Did his servant look at him oddly as he gave him the reins?
+Not he; but Sir Richard began to suspect him and everything. He made him
+stop near the angle of the street, and there he got down, telling him
+rather savagely--for his fancied look was still in the baronet's
+brain--not to move an inch from that spot.
+
+It was half-past one as his steps echoed down the street in which Mr.
+Levi had his office. There was a figure leaning with its back in the
+recess of Levi's door, smoking. Sir Richard's temper was growing
+exasperated.
+
+It was Levi himself. Upstairs they stumble in the dark. Mr. Levi has not
+said a word. He is not treating his visitor with much ceremony. He lets
+himself into his office, secured with a heavy iron bar, and a lock that
+makes a great clang, and proceeds to light a candle. The flame expands
+and the light shows well-barred shutters, and the familiar objects.
+
+When Mr. Levi had lighted a second candle, he fixed his great black eyes
+on the young baronet, who glances over his shoulder at the door, but the
+Jew has secured it. Their eyes meet for a moment, and Sir Richard places
+his hand nervously in his breast-pocket and takes out the parchment.
+Levi nods and extends his hand. Each now holds it by a corner, and as
+Sir Richard lets it go hesitatingly, he says faintly--
+
+"Levi, you wouldn't--you could not run any risk with that?"
+
+Levi stands by his great iron safe, with the big key in his hand. He
+nods in reply, and locking up the document, he knocks his knuckles on
+the iron door, with a long and solemn wink.
+
+"_Sha-afe!_--that'sh the word," says he, and then he drops the keys into
+his pocket again.
+
+There was a silence of a minute or more. A spell was stealing over them;
+an influence was in the room. Each eyed the other, shrinkingly, as a man
+might eye an assassin. The Jew knew that there was danger in that
+silence; and yet he could not break it. He could not disturb the
+influence acting on Richard Arden's mind. It was his good angel's last
+pleading, before the long farewell.
+
+In a dreadful whisper Richard Arden speaks:--
+
+"Give me that parchment back," says he.
+
+Satan finds his tongue again.
+
+"Give it back?" repeats Levi, and a pause ensues. "Of course I'll give
+it back; and I wash my hands of it and you, and you're throwing away ten
+thoushand poundsh for _nothing_."
+
+Levi was taking out his keys as he spoke, and as he fumbled them over
+one by one, he said--
+
+"You'll want a lawyer in the Insholwent Court, and you'd find Mishter
+Sholomonsh azh shatisfactory a shengleman azh any in London. He'sh an
+auctioneer, too; and there'sh no good in your meetin' that friendly cove
+here to-morrow, for he'sh one o' them honourable chaps, and he'll never
+look at you after your schedule's lodged, and the shooner that'sh done
+the better; and them women we was courting, won't they laugh!"
+
+Hereupon, with great alacrity, Mr. Levi began to apply the key to the
+lock.
+
+"Don't mind. Keep it; and mind, you d----d little swindler, so sure as
+you stand there, if you play me a trick, I'll blow your brains out, if
+it were in the police-office!"
+
+Mr. Levi looked hard at him, and nodded. He was accustomed to excited
+language in certain situations.
+
+"Well," said he coolly, a second time returning the keys to his pocket,
+"your friend will be here at twelve to-morrow, and if you please him as
+well as he expects, who knows wha-at may be? If he leavesh you half hish
+money, you'll not 'ave many bill transhactionsh on your handsh."
+
+"May God Almighty have mercy on me!" groans Sir Richard, hardly above
+his breath.
+
+"You shall have the cheques then. He'll be here all right."
+
+"I--I forget; did you say an hour?"
+
+Levi repeats the hour. Sir Richard walks slowly to the stairs, down
+which Levi lights him. Neither speaks.
+
+In a few minutes more the young gentleman is driving rapidly to his town
+house, where he means to end that long-remembered night.
+
+When he had got to his room, and dismissed his valet, he sat down. He
+looked round, and wondered how collected he now was. The situation
+seemed like a dream, or his sense of danger had grown torpid. He could
+not account for the strange indifference that had come over him. He got
+quickly into bed. It was late, and he exhausted, and aided, I know not
+by what narcotic, he slept a constrained, odd sleep--black as
+Erebus--the thread of which snaps suddenly, and he is awake with a heart
+beating fast, as if from a sudden start. A hard bitter voice has said
+close by the pillow, "You are the first Arden that ever did that!" and
+with these words grating in his ears, he awoke, and had a confused
+remembrance of having been dreaming of his father.
+
+Another dream, later on, startled him still more. He was in Levi's
+office, and while they were talking over the horrid document, in a
+moment it blew out of the window; and a lean, ill-looking man, in a
+black coat, like the famous person who, in old woodcuts, picked up the
+shadow of Peter Schlemel, caught the parchment from the pavement, and
+with his eyes fixed corner-wise upon him, and a dreadful smile, tapped
+his long finger on the bond, and with wide paces stepped swiftly away
+with it in his hand.
+
+Richard Arden started up in his bed; the cold moisture of terror was
+upon his forehead, and for a moment he did not know where he was, or how
+much of his vision was real. The grey twilight of early morning was over
+the town. He welcomed the light; he opened the window-shutters wide. He
+looked from the window down upon the street. A lean man with tattered
+black, with a hammer in his hand, just as the man in his dream had held
+the roll of parchment, was slowly stepping with long strides away from
+his house, along the street.
+
+As his thoughts cleared, his panic increased. Nothing had happened
+between the time of his lying down and his up-rising to alter his
+situation, and the same room sees him now half mad.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER LXIX.
+
+THE MEETING.
+
+
+Near the appointed hour, he walked across the park, and through the
+Horse Guards, and in a few minutes more was between the tall
+old-fashioned houses of the street in which Mr. Levi's office is to be
+found. He passes by a dingy hired coach, with a tarnished crest on the
+door, and sees two Jewish-looking men inside, both smiling over some sly
+joke. Whose door are they waiting at? He supposes another Jewish office
+seeks the shade of that pensive street.
+
+Mr. Levi opened his office door for his handsome client. They were quite
+to themselves. Mr. Levi did not look well. He received him with a nod.
+He shut the door when Sir Richard was in the room.
+
+"He'sh not come yet. We'll talk to him inshide." He indicates the door
+of the inner room, with a little side jerk of his head. "That'sh
+private. He hazh that--_thing_ all right."
+
+Sir Richard says nothing. He follows Levi into a small inner room, which
+had, perhaps, originally been a lady's boudoir, and had afterwards, one
+might have conjectured, served as the treasury of cash and jewels of a
+pawn-office; for its door was secured with iron bars, and two great
+locks, and the windows were well barred with iron. There were two huge
+iron safes in the room, built into the wall.
+
+"I'll show you a beauty of a dresshing-ca-ashe," said Levi, rousing
+himself; "I'll shell it a dead bargain, and give time for half, if you
+knowsh any young shwell as wantsh such a harticle. Look here; it was
+made for the Duchess of Horleans--all in gold, hemerald, and
+brilliantsh."
+
+And thus haranguing, he displayed its contents, and turned them over,
+staring on them with a livid admiration. Sir Richard is not thinking of
+the duchess's dressing-case, nor is he much more interested when Mr.
+Levi goes on to tell him, "There'sh three executions against peersh out
+thish week--two gone down to the country. Sholomonsh nobbled Lord
+Bylkington's carriage outshide Shyner's at two o'clock in the morning,
+and his lordship had to walk home in the rain;" and Levi laughs and
+wriggles pleasantly over the picture. "I think he'sh coming," says Levi
+suddenly, inclining his ear toward the door. He looked back over his
+shoulder with an odd look, a little stern, at the young gentleman.
+
+"Who?" asked the young man, a little uncertain, in consequence of the
+character of that look.
+
+"Your--that--your friend, of course," said Levi, with his eyes again
+averted, and his ear near the door.
+
+It was a moment of trepidation and of hope to Richard Arden. He hears
+the steps of several persons in the next room. Levi opens a little bit
+of the door, and peeps through, and with a quick glance towards the
+baronet, he whispers, "Ay, it's him."
+
+Oh, blessed hope! here comes, at last, a powerful friend to take him by
+the hand, and draw him, in his last struggle, from the whirlpool.
+
+Sir Richard glances towards the door through which the Jew is still
+looking, and signing with his hand as, little by little, he opens it
+wider and wider; and a voice in the next room, at sound of which Sir
+Richard starts to his feet, says sharply, "Is all right?"
+
+"All _right_," replies Levi, getting aside; and Mr. Longcluse entered
+the room and shut the door.
+
+His pale face looked paler than usual, his thin cruel lips were closed,
+his nostrils dilated with a terrible triumph, and his eyes were fixed
+upon Arden, as he held the fatal parchment in his hand.
+
+Levi saw a scowl so dreadful contract Sir Richard Arden's face--was it
+pain, or was it fury?--that, drawing back as far as the wall would let
+him, he almost screamed, "It ain't me!--it ain't my fault!--I can't help
+it!--I couldn't!--I can't!" His right hand was in his pocket, and his
+left, trembling violently, extended toward him, as if to catch his arm.
+
+But Richard Arden was not thinking of him--did not hear him. He was
+overpowered. He sat down in his chair. He leaned back with a gasp and a
+faint laugh, like a man just overtaken by a wave, and lifted
+half-drowned from the sea. Then, with a sudden cry, he threw his hands
+and head on the table.
+
+There was no token of relenting in Longcluse's cruel face. There was a
+contemptuous pleasure in it. He did not remove his eyes from that
+spectacle of abasement as he replaced the parchment in his pocket. There
+is a silence of about a minute, and Sir Richard sits up and says
+vaguely,--
+
+"Thank God, it's over! Take me away; I'm ready to go."
+
+"You shall go, time enough; I have a word to say first," said Longcluse,
+and he signs to the Jew to leave them.
+
+On being left to themselves, the first idea that struck Sir Richard was
+the wild one of escape. He glanced quickly at the window. It was barred
+with iron. There were men in the next room--he could not tell how
+many--and he was without arms. The hope lighted up, and almost at the
+same moment expired.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER LXX.
+
+MR. LONGCLUSE PROPOSES.
+
+
+"Clear your head," says Mr. Longcluse, sternly, seating himself before
+Sir Richard, with the table between; "you must conceive a distinct idea
+of your situation, Sir, and I shall then tell you something that
+remains. You have committed a forgery under aggravated circumstances,
+for which I shall have you convicted and sentenced to penal servitude at
+the next sessions. I have been a good friend to you on many occasions;
+you have been a false one to me--who baser?--and while I was anonymously
+helping you with large sums of money, you forged my name to a legal
+instrument for ten thousand pounds, to swindle your unknown benefactor,
+little suspecting who he was."
+
+Longcluse smiled.
+
+"I have heard how you spoke of me. I'm an adventurer, a leg, an
+assassin, a person whom you were compelled to drop; rather a low person,
+I fear, if a felon can't afford to sit beside me! You were always too
+fine a man for me. Your get up was always peculiar; you were famous for
+that. It will soon be more singular still, when your hair and your
+clothes are cut after the fashion of the great world you are about to
+enter. How your friends will laugh!"
+
+Sir Richard heard all this with a helpless stare.
+
+"I have only to stamp on the ground, to call up the men who will
+accomplish your transformation. I can change your life by a touch, into
+convict dress, diet, labour, lodging, for the rest of your days. What
+plea have you to offer to my mercy?"
+
+Sir Richard would have spoken, but his voice failed him. With a second
+effort, however, he said--"Would it not be more manly if you let me meet
+my fate, without this."
+
+"And you are such an admirable judge of what is manly, or even
+gentlemanlike!" said Longcluse. "Now, mind, I shall arrest you in five
+minutes, on your three over-due bills. The men with the writ are in the
+next room. I sha'n't immediately arrest you for the forgery. That shall
+hang over you. I mean to make you, for a while, my instrument. Hear, and
+understand; I mean to marry your sister. She don't like me, but she
+suits me; I have chosen her, and I'll not be baulked. When that is
+accomplished, you are safe. No man likes to see his brother a spectacle
+of British justice, with cropped hair, and a log to his foot. I may hate
+and despise you, as you deserve, but that would not do. Failing that,
+however, you shall have justice, I promise you. The course I propose
+taking is this: you shall be arrested here, for _debt_. You will be good
+enough to allow the people who take you, to select your present place of
+confinement. It is arranged. I will then, by a note, appoint a place of
+meeting for this evening, where I shall instruct you as to the
+particulars of that course of conduct I prescribe for you. If you mean
+to attempt an escape, you had better try it _now_; I will give you
+fourteen hours' start, and undertake to catch and bring you back to
+London as a forger. If you make up your mind to submit to fate, and do
+precisely as you are ordered, you may emerge. But on the slightest
+evasion, prevarication, or default, the blow descends. In the meantime
+we treat each other civilly before these people. Levi is in my hands,
+and you, I presume, keep your own secret."
+
+"That is all?" inquired Sir Richard, faintly, after a minute's silence.
+
+"All for the _present_," was the reply; "you will see more clearly,
+by-and-by, that you are my property, and you will act accordingly."
+
+The two Jewish-looking gentlemen, whom Richard had passed in a
+conference in their carriage which stood now at the steps of the house,
+were the sheriff's officers destined to take charge of the fallen
+gentleman, and convey him, by Levi's direction, to a "sponging house,"
+which, I believe, belonged jointly to him and his partner, Mr. Goldshed.
+
+It was on the principle, perhaps, on which hunters tame wild beasts, by
+a sojourn at the bottom of a pit-fall, that Mr. Longcluse doomed the
+young baronet to some ten hours' solitary contemplation of his hopeless
+immeshment in that castle of Giant Despair, before taking him out and
+setting him again before him, for the purpose of instructing him in the
+conditions and duties of the direful life on which he was about to
+enter.
+
+Mr. Longcluse left the baronet suddenly, and returned to Levi's office
+no more.
+
+Sir Richard's _rôle_ was cast. He was to figure, at least first, as a
+captive in the drama for which fate had selected him. He had no wish to
+retard the progress of the piece. Nothing more odious than his present
+situation was likely to come.
+
+"You have something to say to me?" said the baronet, making tender, as
+it were, of himself. The offer was, obligingly, accepted, and the
+sheriffs, by his lieutenants, made prisoner of Sir Richard Arden, who
+strode down the stairs between them, and entered the seedy coach, and
+sitting as far back as he could, drove rapidly toward the City.
+
+Stunned and confused, there was but one image vividly present to his
+recollection, and that was the baleful face of Walter Longcluse.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER LXXI.
+
+NIGHT.
+
+
+At about eight o'clock that evening, a hurried note reached Alice Arden,
+at Mortlake. It was from her brother, and said,--
+
+    "MY DARLING ALICE,
+
+    "I can't get away from town to-night, I am overwhelmed with
+    business; but to-morrow, before dinner, I hope to see you, and stay
+    at Mortlake till next morning.--Your affectionate brother,
+
+    "DICK."
+
+The house was quiet earlier than in former times, when Sir Reginald, of
+rakish memory, was never in his bed till past three o'clock in the
+morning. Mortlake was an early house now, and all was still by a quarter
+past eleven. The last candle burning was usually that in Mrs. Tansey's
+room. She had not yet gone to bed, and was still in "the housekeeper's
+room," when a tapping came at the window. It reminded her of Mr.
+Longcluse's visit on the night of the funeral.
+
+She was now the only person up in the house, except Alice, who was at
+the far side of the building, where, in the next room, her maid was in
+bed asleep. Alice, who sat at her dressing-table, reading, with her long
+rich hair dishevelled over her shoulders, was, of course, quite out of
+hearing.
+
+Martha went to the window with a little frown of uncertainty. Opening a
+bit of the shutter, she saw Sir Richard's face close to her. Was ever
+old housekeeper so pestered by nightly tappings at her window-pane?
+
+"La! who'd a thought o' seeing you, Master Richard! why, you told Miss
+Alice you'd not be here till to-morrow!" she says pettishly, holding the
+candle high above her head.
+
+He makes a sign of caution to her, and placing his lips near the pane,
+says,--
+
+"Open the window the least bit in life."
+
+With a dark stare in his face, she obeys. An odd approach, surely, for a
+master to make to his own house!
+
+"No one up in the house but you?" he whispers, as soon as the window is
+open.
+
+"Not one!"
+
+"Don't say a word, only listen: come, softly, round to the hall-door,
+and let me in; and light those candles there, and bring them with you to
+the hall. Don't let a creature know I have been here, and make no noise
+for your life!"
+
+The old woman nodded with the same little frown; and he, pointing toward
+the hall door, walks away silently in that direction.
+
+"What makes you look so white and dowley?" mutters the old woman, as she
+secures the window, and bars the shutters again.
+
+"Good creature!" whispers Sir Richard, as he enters the hall, and places
+his hand kindly on her shoulder, and with a very dark look; "you have
+always been true to me, Martha, and I depend on your good sense; not a
+word of my having been here to any one--not to Miss Alice! I have to
+search for papers. I shall be here but an hour or so. Don't lock or bar
+the door, mind, and get to your bed! Don't come up this way
+again--good-night!"
+
+"Won't you have some supper?"
+
+"No, thanks."
+
+"A glass of sherry and a bit o' something?"
+
+"Nothing."
+
+And he places his hand on her shoulder gently, and looks toward the
+corridor that led to her room; then taking up one of the candles she had
+left alight on the table in the hall, he says,--
+
+"I'll give you a light," and he repeats, with a wondrous heavy sigh,
+"Good-night, dear old Martha."
+
+"God bless ye, Master Dick. Ye must chirp up a bit, mind," she says very
+kindly, with an earnest look in her face. "I'm getting to rest--ye
+needn't fear me walkin' about to trouble ye. But ye must be careful to
+shut the hall-door close. I agree, as it is a thing to be done; but ye
+must also knock at my bed-room window when ye've gane out, for I must
+get up, and lock the door, and make a' safe; and don't ye forget, Master
+Richard, what I tell ye."
+
+He held the candle at the end of the corridor, down which the wiry old
+woman went quickly; and when he returned to the hall, and set the candle
+down again, he felt faint. In his ears are ever the terrible words:
+"Mind, _I_ take command of the house, _I_ dispose of and appoint the
+servants; I don't appear, you do all ostensibly--but from garret to
+cellar, I'm _master_. I'll look it over, and tell you what is to be
+done."
+
+Sir Richard roused himself, and having listened at the staircase, he
+very softly opened the hall-door. The spire of the old church showed
+hoar in the moonlight. At the left, from under a deep shadow of elms,
+comes silently a tall figure, and softly ascends the hall-door steps.
+The door is closed gently.
+
+Alice sitting at her dressing-table, half an hour later, thought she
+heard steps--lowered her book, and listened. But no sound followed.
+Again the same light foot-falls disturbed her--and again, she was
+growing nervous. Once more she heard them, very stealthily, and now on
+the same floor on which her room was. She stands up breathless. There is
+no noise now. She was thinking of waking her maid, but she remembered
+that she and Louisa Diaper had in a like alarm, discovered old Martha,
+only two or three nights before, poking about the china-closet, dusting
+and counting, at one o'clock in the morning, and had then exacted a
+promise that she would visit that repository no more, except at
+seasonable hours. But old Martha was so pig-headed, and would take it
+for granted that she was fast asleep, and would rather fidget through
+the house and poke up everything at that hour than at any other.
+
+Quite persuaded of this, Alice takes her candle, determined to scold
+that troublesome old thing, against whom she is fired with the
+irritation that attends on a causeless fright. She walks along the
+gallery quickly, in slippers, flowing dressing-gown and hair, with her
+candle in her hand, to the head of the stairs, through the great window
+of which the moonlight streams brightly. Through the keyhole of the door
+at the opposite side, a ray of candlelight is visible, and from this
+room opens the china-closet, which is no doubt the point of attraction
+for the troublesome visitant. Holding the candle high in her left hand,
+Alice opens the door.
+
+What she sees is this--a pair of candles burning on a small table, on
+which, with a pencil, Mr. Longcluse is drawing, it seems, with care, a
+diagram; at the same moment he raises his eyes, and Richard Arden, who
+is standing with one hand placed on the table over which he is leaning a
+little, looks quickly round, and rising walks straight to the door,
+interposing between her and Longcluse.
+
+"Oh, Alice? You didn't expect me: I'm very busy, looking for--looking
+over papers. Don't mind."
+
+He had placed his hands gently on her shoulders, and she receded as he
+advanced.
+
+"Oh! it don't matter. I thought--I thought--I did not know."
+
+She was smiling her best. She was horrified. He looked like a ghost.
+Alice was gazing piteously in his face, and with a little laugh, she
+began to cry convulsively.
+
+"What is the matter with the little fool! There, there--don't,
+don't--nonsense!"
+
+With an effort she recovered herself.
+
+"Only a little startled, Dick; I did not think you were
+there--good-night."
+
+And she hastened back to her chamber, and locked the door; and running
+into her maid's room, sat down on the side of her bed, and wept
+hysterically. To the imploring inquiries of her maid, she repeated only
+the words, "I am frightened," and left her in a startled perplexity.
+
+She knew that Longcluse had seen her, and he, that she had seen him.
+Their eyes had met. He saw with a bleak rage the contracting look of
+horror, so nearly hatred, that she fixed on him for a breathless moment.
+There was a tremor of fury at his heart, as if it could have sprung at
+her, from his breast, at her throat, and murdered her; and--she looked
+so beautiful! He gazed with an idolatrous admiration. Tears were welling
+to his eyes, and yet he would have laughed to see her weltering on the
+floor. A madman for some tremendous seconds!
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER LXXII.
+
+MEASURES.
+
+
+About twelve o'clock next day Richard Arden showed himself at Mortlake.
+It was a beautiful autumnal day, and the mellow sun fell upon a foliage
+that was fading into russet and yellow. Alice was looking out from the
+open window, on the noble old timber whose wide-spread boughs and
+thinning leaves caught the sunbeams pleasantly. She had heard her
+brother and his companion go down the stairs, and saw them, from the
+window, walk quickly down the avenue, till the trees hid them from view.
+She thought that some of the servants were up, and that the door was
+secured on their departure; and the effect of the shock she had received
+gradually subsiding, she looked to her next interview with her brother
+for an explanation of the occurrence which had so startled her.
+
+That interview was approaching; the cab drove up to the steps, and her
+brother got out. Anxiously she looked, but no one followed him, and the
+driver shut the cab-door. Sir Richard kissed his hand to her, as she
+stood in the window.
+
+From the hall the house opens to the right and left, in two suites of
+rooms. The room in which Alice stood was called the sage-room, from its
+being hung in sage-green leather, stamped in gold. It is a small room to
+the left, and would answer very prettily for a card party or a
+_tête-à-tête_. Alice had her work, her books, and her music there; she
+liked it because the room was small and cheery.
+
+The door opened, and her brother comes in.
+
+"Good Dick, to come so early! welcome, darling," she said, putting her
+arms about his neck, as he stooped and kissed her, smiling.
+
+He looked very ill, and his smile was painful.
+
+"That was an odd little visit I paid last night," said he, with his dark
+eyes fixed on her, inquiringly she thought--"very late--quite
+unexpected. You are quite well to-day?--you look flourishing."
+
+"I wish I could say as much for you, Dick; I'm afraid you are tiring
+yourself to death."
+
+"I had some one with me last night," said Sir Richard, with his eye
+still upon her; "I--I don't know whether you perceived that."
+
+Alice looked away, and then said carelessly, but very gravely--
+
+"I did--I saw Mr. Longcluse. I could not believe my eyes, Dick. You must
+promise me one thing."
+
+"What is that?"
+
+"That he sha'n't come into this house any more--while I am here, I
+mean."
+
+"That is easily promised," said he.
+
+"And what did he come about, Dick?"
+
+"Oh! he came--he came--I thought I told you; he came about papers. I did
+not tell you; but he has, after all, turned out very friendly. He is
+going to do me a very important service."
+
+She looked very much surprised.
+
+The young man glanced through the window, to which he walked; he seemed
+embarrassed, and then turning to her, he said peevishly--
+
+"You seem to think, Alice, that one can never make a mistake, or change
+an opinion."
+
+"But I did not say so; only, Dick, I must tell you that I have such a
+horror of that man--a _terror_ of him--as nothing can ever get over."
+
+"I'm to blame for that."
+
+"No, I can't say you are. I don't mind stories so much as----"
+
+"As what?"
+
+"As looks."
+
+"Looks! Why, you used to think him a gentlemanly-looking fellow, and so
+he is."
+
+"Looks _and language_," said Alice.
+
+"I thought he was a very civil fellow."
+
+"I sha'n't dispute anything. I suppose you have found him a good friend
+after all, as you say."
+
+"As good a friend as most men," said Sir Richard, growing pale; "they
+all act from interest: where interests are the same, men are friends.
+But he has saved me from a great deal, and he may do more; and I believe
+I was too hasty about those stories, and I think you were right when you
+refused to believe them without proof."
+
+"I daresay--I don't know--I believe my senses--and all I say is this, if
+Mr. Longcluse is to come here any more, I must go. He is no gentleman, I
+think--that is, I can't describe how I dislike him--how I hate him! I'm
+afraid of him! Dick, you look ill and unhappy: what's the matter?"
+
+"I'm well enough--I'm better; we shall be better--all better by-and-by.
+I wish the next five weeks were over! We must leave this, we must go to
+Arden Court; I will send some of the servants there first. I am going to
+tell them now, they must get the house ready. You shall keep your maid
+here with you; and when all is ready in Yorkshire, we shall be
+off--Alice, Alice, don't mind me--I'm miserable--mad!" he says suddenly,
+and covers his face with his hands, and, for the first time for years,
+he is crying bitter tears.
+
+Alice was by his side, alarmed, curious, grieved; and with all these
+emotions mingling in her dark eyes and beautiful features, as she drew
+his hand gently away, with a rush of affectionate entreaties and
+inquiries.
+
+"It is all very fine, Alice," he exclaims, with a sudden bitterness;
+"but I don't believe, to save me from destruction, you would sacrifice
+one of your least caprices, or reconcile one of your narrowest
+prejudices."
+
+"What can you mean, dear Richard? only tell me how I can be of any use.
+You can't mean, of course----"
+
+She stops with a startled look at him. "You know, dear Dick, that was
+always out of the question: and surely you have heard that Lord
+Wynderbroke is to be married to Grace Maubray? It is all settled."
+
+Quite another thought had been in Richard's mind, but he was glad to
+accept Alice's conjecture.
+
+"Yes, so it is--so, at least, it is said to be--but I am so worried and
+distracted, I half forget things. Girls are such jolly fools; they throw
+good men away, and lose themselves. What is to become of you, Alice, if
+things go wrong with me! I think the old times were best, when the old
+people settled who was to marry whom, and there was no disputing their
+decision, and marriages were just as happy, and courtships a great deal
+simpler; and I am very sure there were fewer secret repinings, and
+broken hearts, and--threadbare old maids. Don't _you_ be a fool, Alice;
+mind what I say."
+
+He is leaving the room, but pauses at the door, and returns and places
+his hand on her arm, looking in her face, and says--
+
+"Yes, mind what I say, for God's sake, and we may all be a great deal
+happier."
+
+He kisses her, and is gone. Her eyes follow him, as she thinks with a
+sigh--
+
+"How strange Dick is growing! I'm afraid he has been playing again, and
+losing. It must have been something very urgent that induced him to make
+it up again with that low malignant man; and this break-up, and journey
+to Arden Court! I think I should prefer being there. There is something
+ominous about this place, picturesque as it is, and much as I like it.
+But the journey to Yorkshire is only another of the imaginary excursions
+Dick has been proposing every fortnight; and next year, and the year
+after, will find us, I suppose, just where we are."
+
+But this conjecture, for once, was mistaken. It was, this time, a
+veritable break-up and migration; for Martha Tansey came in, with the
+importance of a person who has a matter of moment to talk over.
+
+"Here's something sudden, Miss Alice; I suppose you've heard. Off to
+Arden Court in the mornin'. Crozier and me; the footman discharged, and
+you to follow with Master Richard in a week."
+
+"Oh, then, it _is_ settled. Well, Martha, I am not sorry, and I daresay
+you and Crozier won't be sorry to see old Yorkshire faces again, and the
+Court, and the rookery, and the orchard."
+
+"I don't mind; glad enough to see a'ad faces, but I'm a bit o'er a'ad
+myself for such sudden flittins, and Manx and Darwent, and the rest, is
+to go by night train to-morrow, and not a housemaid left in Mortlake.
+But Master Richard says a's provided, and 'twill be but a few days after
+a's done; and ye'll be down, then, at Arden by the middle o' next week,
+and I'm no sa sure the change mayn't serve ye; and as your uncle, Master
+David, and Lady May Penrose, and Miss Maubray--a strackle-brained lass
+she is, I doubt--and to think o' that a'ad fule, Lord Wynderbroke,
+takin' sich a young, bonny hizzy to wife! La bless ye, she'll play the
+hangment wi' that a'ad gowk of a lord, and all his goold guineas won't
+do. His kist o' money won't hod na time, I warrant ye, when once that
+lassie gets her pretty fingers under the lid. There'll be gaains on in
+that house, I warrant, not but he's a gude man, and a fine gentleman as
+need be," she added, remembering her own strenuous counsel in his
+favour, when he was supposed to be paying his court to Alice; "and if he
+was mated wi' a gude lassie, wi' gude blude in her veins, would
+doubtless keep as honourable a house, and hod his head as high as any
+lord o' them a'. But as I was saying, Miss Alice, now that Master David,
+and Lady May, and Miss Maubray, has left Lunnon, there's no one here to
+pay ye a visit, and ye'd be fairly buried alive here in Mortlake, and
+ye'll be better, and sa will we a', down at Arden, for a bit; and
+there's gentle folk down there as gude as ever rode in Lunnon streets,
+mayhap, and better; and mony a squire, that ony leddy in the land might
+be proud to marry, and not one but would be glad to match wi' an Arden."
+
+"That is a happy thought," said Alice, laughing.
+
+"And so it is, and no laughing matter," said Martha, a little offended,
+as she stalked out of the room, and closed the door, grandly, after her.
+
+"And God bless you, dear old Martha," said the young lady, looking
+towards the door through which she had just passed; "the truest and
+kindest soul on earth."
+
+Sir Richard did not come back. She saw him no more that evening.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER LXXIII.
+
+AT THE BAR OF THE "GUY OF WARWICK."
+
+
+Next evening there came, not Richard, but a note saying that he would
+see Alice the moment he could get away from town. As the old servant
+departed northward, her solitude for the first time began to grow
+irksome, and as the night approached, worse even than gloomy.
+
+Her extemporised household made her laugh. It was not even a skeleton
+establishment. The kitchen department had dwindled to a single person,
+who ordered her luncheon and dinner, only two or three _plats_, daily,
+from the "Guy of Warwick." The housemaid's department was undertaken by
+a single servant, a short, strong woman of some sixty years of age.
+
+This person puzzled Alice a good deal. She came to her, like the others,
+with a note from her brother, stating her name, and that he had engaged
+her for the few days they meant to remain roughing it at Mortlake, and
+that he had received a very good account of her.
+
+This woman has not a bad countenance. There is, indeed, no tenderness in
+it; but there is a sort of hard good-humour. There are quickness and
+resolution. She talks fluently of herself and her qualifications, and
+now and then makes a short curtsey. But she takes no notice of any one
+of Alice's questions.
+
+A silence sometimes follows, during which Alice repeats her
+interrogatory perhaps twice, with growing indignation, and then the new
+comer breaks into a totally independent talk, and leaves the young lady
+wondering at her disciplined impertinence. It was not till her second
+visit that she enlightened her.
+
+"I did not send for you. You can go!" said Alice.
+
+"I don't like a house that has children in it, they gives a deal o'
+trouble," said the woman.
+
+"But I say you may go; you must go, please."
+
+The woman looked round the room.
+
+"When I was with Mrs. Montgomery, she had five, three girls and two
+boys; la! there never was five such----"
+
+"Go, this moment, please, I insist on your going; do you hear me, pray?"
+
+But so far from answering, or obeying, this cool intruder continues her
+harangue before Miss Arden gets half way to the end of her little
+speech.
+
+"That woman was the greatest fool alive--nothing but spoiling and
+petting--I could not stand it no longer, so I took Master Tommy by the
+lug, and pulled him out of the kitchen, the limb, along the passage to
+the stairs, every inch, and I gave him a slap in the face, the fat young
+rascal; you could hear all over the house! and didn't he rise the roof!
+So missus and me, we quarrelled upon it."
+
+"If you don't leave the room, _I_ must; and I shall tell my brother, Sir
+Richard, how you have behaved yourself; and you may rely upon it----"
+
+But here again she is overpowered by the strong voice of her visitor.
+
+"It was in my next place, at Mr. Crump's, I took cold in my head, very
+bad, Miss, indeed, looking out of window to see two fellows fighting, in
+the lane--in both ears--and so I lost my hearing, and I've been deaf as
+a post ever since!"
+
+Alice could not resist a laugh at her own indignant eloquence quite
+thrown away; and she hastily wrote with a pencil on a slip of paper:--
+
+"Please don't come to me except when I send for you."
+
+"La! Ma'am, I forgot!" exclaims the woman, when she had examined it; "my
+orders was not to read any of _your_ writing."
+
+"Not to read any of my writing!" said Alice, amazed; "then, how am I to
+tell you what I wish about anything?" she inquires, for the moment
+forgetting that not one word of her question was heard. The woman makes
+a curtsey and retires. "What can Richard have meant by giving her such a
+direction? I'll ask him when he comes."
+
+It was likely enough that the woman had misunderstood him, still she
+began to wish the little interval destined to be passed at Mortlake
+before her journey to Yorkshire, ended.
+
+She told her maid, Louisa Diaper, to go down to the kitchen and find out
+all she could as to what people were in the house, and what duties they
+had undertaken, and when her brother was likely to arrive.
+
+Louisa Diaper, slim, elegant, and demure, descended among these
+barbarous animals. She found in the kitchen, unexpectedly, a male
+stranger, a small, slight man, with great black eyes, a big sullen
+mouth, a sallow complexion, and a profusion of black ringlets. The deaf
+woman was conning over some writing of his on a torn-off blank leaf of a
+letter, and he was twiddling about the pencil, with which he had just
+traced it, in his fingers, and, in a singing drawl, holding forth to the
+other woman, who, with a long and high canvas apron on, and the handle
+of an empty saucepan in her right hand, stood gaping at him, with her
+arms hanging by her sides.
+
+On the appearance of Miss Diaper, Mr. Levi, for he it was, directs his
+solemn conversation to that young lady.
+
+"I was just telling them about the robberies in the City and Wesht Hend.
+La! there'sh bin nothin' like it for twenty year. They don't tell them
+in the papersh, blesh ye! The 'ome Shecretary takesh precious good care
+o' that; they don't want to frighten every livin' shoul out of London.
+But there'll be talk of it in Parliament, I promish you. I know three
+opposition membersh myshelf that will move the 'oushe upon it next
+session."
+
+Mr. Levi wagged his head darkly as he made this political revelation.
+
+"Thish day twel'month the number o' burglariesh in London and the West
+Hend, including Hizzlington, was no more than fifteen and a half a
+night; and two robberiesh attended with wiolensh. What wazh it lasht
+night? I have it in confidensh, from the polishe offish thish morning."
+
+He pulled a pocket-book, rather greasy, from his breast, and from this
+depositary, it is to be presumed, of statistical secrets, he read the
+following official memorandum:--
+
+"Number of 'oushes burglarioushly hentered lasht night, including
+private banksh, charitable hinshtitutions, shops, lodging-'oushes,
+female hacadamies, and private dwellings, and robbed with more or less
+wiolench, one thoushand sheven hundred and shixty-sheven. We regret to
+hadd," he continued, the official return stealing, as it proceeded,
+gradually into the style of "The Pictorial Calendar of British Crime," a
+half-penny paper which he took in--"this hinundation of crime seems
+flowing, or rayther rushing northward, and hazh already enweloped
+Hizhlington, where a bald-headed clock and watch maker, named Halexander
+Goggles, wazh murdered with his sheven shmall children, with
+unigshampled ba-arba-arity."
+
+Mr. Levi eyed the women horribly all round as he ended the sentence, and
+he added,--
+
+"Hizhlington'sh only down there. It ain't five minutesh walk; only a
+pleasant shtep; just enough to give a fellow azh has polished off a
+family there a happetite for another up here. Azh I 'ope to be shaved, I
+shleep every night with a pair of horshe pishtols, a blunderbush, and a
+shabre by my bed; and Shir Richard wantsh every door in the 'oushe fasht
+locked, and the keysh with him, before dark, thish evening, except only
+such doors as you want open; and he gave me a note to Miss Harden." And
+he placed the note in Miss Diaper's hand. "He wantsh the 'oushe a bit
+more schecure," he added, following her towards the hall. "He wishes to
+make you and she quite shafe, and out of harm's way, if anything should
+occur. It will be only a few days, you know, till you're both away."
+
+The effect of this little alarm, accompanied by Sir Richard's note, was
+that Mr. Levi carried out a temporary arrangement, which assigned the
+suite of apartments in which Alice's room was as those to which she
+would restrict herself during the few days she was to remain there, the
+rest of the house, except the kitchen and a servant's room or two
+down-stairs, being locked up.
+
+By the time Mr. Levi had got the keys together, and all safe in
+Mortlake, the sun had set, and in the red twilight that followed he set
+off in his cab towards town. At the "Guy of Warwick"--from the bar of
+which already was flaring a good broad gas-light--he stopped and got
+out. There was a full view of the bar from where he stood; and,
+pretending to rummage his pockets for something, he was looking in to
+see whether "the coast was clear."
+
+"She's just your sort--not too bad and not too good--not too nashty, and
+not too nishe; a good-humoured lash, rough and ready, and knowsh a thing
+or two."
+
+"Ye're there, are ye?" inquired Mr. Levi, playfully, as he crossed the
+door-stone, and placed his fists on the bar grinning.
+
+"What will you take, Sir, please?" inquired the young woman, at one side
+of whom was the usual row of taps and pump-handles.
+
+"Now, Miss Phœbe, give me a brandy and shoda, pleashe. When I talked to
+you in thish 'ere place 'tother night, you wished to engage for a lady's
+maid. What would you shay to me, if I was to get you a firsht-chop
+tip-top pla-ashe of the kind? Well, don't you shay a word--that brandy
+ain't fair measure--and I'll tell you. It'sh a la-ady of ra-ank! where
+wagesh ish no-o object; and two years' savings, and a good match with a
+well-to-do 'andsome young fellow, will set you hup in a better place
+than this 'ere."
+
+"It comes very timely, Sir, for I'm to leave to-morrow, and I was
+thinking of going home to my uncle in a day or two, in Chester."
+
+"Well it's all settled. Come you down to my offishe, you know where it
+is, to-morrow, at three, and I'll 'av all partickulars for you, and a
+note to the lady from her brother, the baronet; and if you be a good
+girl, and do as you're bid, you'll make a little fortune of it."
+
+She curtsied, with her eyes very round, as he, with a wag of his head
+drank down what remained of his brandy and soda, and wiping his mouth
+with his glove, he said, "Three o'clock sha-arp, mind; good-bye, Phœbe,
+lass, and don't you forget all I said."
+
+He stood ungallantly with his back towards her on the threshold lighting
+a cigar, and so soon as he had it in his own phrase, "working at high
+blast," he got into his cab, and jingled towards his office, with all
+his keys about him.
+
+While Miss Arden remained all unconscious, and even a little amused at
+the strange shifts to which her brief stay and extemporised household at
+Mortlake exposed her, a wily and determined strategist was drawing his
+toils around her.
+
+The process of isolation was nearly completed, without having once
+excited her suspicions; and, with the same perfidious skill, the house
+itself was virtually undergoing those modifications which best suited
+his designs.
+
+Sir Richard appeared at his club as usual. He was compelled to do so.
+The all-seeing eye of his pale tyrant pursued him everywhere; he lived
+under terror. A dreadful agony all this time convulsed the man, within
+whose heart Longcluse suspected nothing but the serenity of death.
+
+"What easier than to tell the story to the police. Meditated duresse.
+Compulsion. Infernal villain! And then: what then? A pistol to his head,
+a flash, and--darkness!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER LXXIV.
+
+A LETTER.
+
+
+Mr. Longcluse knocked at Sir Richard's house in May Fair, and sent
+up-stairs for the baronet. It was about the same hour at which Mr. Levi
+was drinking his thirsty potation of brandy and soda at the "Guy of
+Warwick." The streets were darker than that comparatively open place,
+and the gas lamp threw its red outline of the sashes upon the dark
+ceiling, as Mr. Longcluse stood in the drawing-room between the windows,
+in his great-coat, with his hat on, looking in the dark like an image
+made of fog.
+
+Sir Richard Arden entered the room.
+
+"You were not at Mortlake to-day," said he.
+
+"No."
+
+"There's a cab at the door that will take you there; your absence for a
+whole day would excite surmise. Don't stay more than five minutes, and
+don't mention Louisa Diaper's name, and account for the locking up of
+all the house, but one suite of rooms, I directed, and come to my house
+in Bolton Street, direct from Mortlake. That's all."
+
+Without another word, Mr. Longcluse took his departure.
+
+In this cavalier way, and in a cold tone that conveyed all the menace
+and insult involved in his ruined position, had this conceited young man
+been ordered about by his betrayer, on his cruel behests, ever since he
+had come under his dreadful rod. The iron trap that held him fast,
+locked him in a prison from which, except through the door of death,
+there seemed no escape.
+
+Outraged pride, the terrors of suspense, the shame and remorse of his
+own enormous perfidy against his only sister, peopled it with spectres.
+
+As he drove out to Mortlake, pale, frowning, with folded arms, his
+handsome face thinned and drawn by the cords of pain, he made up his
+mind. He knocked furiously at Mortlake Hall door. The woman in the
+canvas apron let him in. The strange face startled him; he had been
+thinking so intently of one thing. Going up, through the darkened house,
+with but one candle, and tapping at the door, on the floor above the
+drawing-room, within which Alice was sitting, with Louisa Diaper for
+company, and looking at her unsuspicious smile, he felt what a heinous
+conspirator he was.
+
+He made an excuse for sending the maid to the next room after they had
+spoken a few words, and then he said,--
+
+"Suppose, Alice, we were to change our plan, would you like to come
+abroad? Out of this you must come immediately." He was speaking low. "I
+am in great danger; I must go abroad. For your life, don't seem to
+suspect anything. Do exactly as I tell you, or else I am utterly ruined,
+and you, Alice, on your account, very miserable. Don't ask a question,
+or look a look, that may make Louisa Diaper suspect that you have any
+doubt as to your going to Arden, or any suspicion of any danger. She is
+quite true, but not wise, and your left hand must not know what your
+right hand is doing. Don't be frightened, only be steady and calm. Get
+together any jewels and money you have, and as little else as you can
+possibly manage with. Do this yourself; Louisa Diaper must know nothing
+of it. I will mature our plans, and to-morrow or next day I shall see
+you again; I can stay but a moment now, and have but time to bid you
+good-night."
+
+Then he kissed her. How horribly agitated he looked! How cold was the
+pressure of his hand!
+
+"Hush!" he whispered, and his dark eyes were fixed on the door through
+which he expected the return of the maid. And as he heard her step, "Not
+a word, remember!" he said; then bidding her good-night aloud, he
+quitted the room almost as suddenly as he had appeared, leaving her, for
+the first time, in the horrors of a growing panic.
+
+Sir Richard leaned back in the cab as he drove into town. He had as yet
+no plan formed. It was a more complicated exploit than he was at the
+moment equal to. In Mortlake were two fellows, by way of protectors,
+placed there for security of the house and people.
+
+These men held possession of the keys of the house, and sat and regaled
+themselves with their hot punch, or cold brandy and water, and pipes;
+always one awake, and with ears erect, they kept watch and ward in the
+room to the right of the hall-door, in which Sir Richard and Uncle David
+had conversed with the sad Mr. Plumes, on the evening after the old
+baronet's death. To effect Alice's escape, and reserve for himself a
+chance of accomplishing his own, was a problem demanding skill, cunning,
+and audacity.
+
+While he revolved these things an alarm had been sounded in another
+quarter, which unexpectedly opened a chance of extrication, sudden and
+startling.
+
+Mr. Longcluse was destined to a surprise to-night. Mr. Longcluse, at his
+own house, was awaiting the return of Sir Richard. Overlooked in his
+usually accurate though rapid selection, a particularly shabby and
+vulgar-looking letter had been thrown aside among circulars, pamphlets,
+and begging letters, to await his leisure. It was a letter from Paris,
+and vulgar and unbusiness-like as it looked, there was yet, in its
+peculiar scrivenery that which, a little more attentively scanned,
+thrilled him with a terrible misgiving. The post-mark showed it had been
+delivered four days before. When he saw from whom it came, and had
+gathered something of its meaning from a few phrases, his dark eyes
+gleamed and his face grew stern. Was this wretch's hoof to strike to
+pieces the plans he had so nearly matured? The letter was as follows:--
+
+    "SIR,
+
+    "Mr Longcluse, I have been unfortunate With your money which you
+    have Gave me to remove from England, and Keep me in New York. My
+    boxes, and other things, and Ballens of the money in Gold, except
+    about a Hundred pounds, which has kep me from want ever sense, went
+    Down in the Mary Jane, of London, and my cousin went down in her
+    also, which I might as well av Went down myself in her, only for me
+    Stopping in Paris, where I made a trifle of Money, intending to go
+    Out in August. Now, Sir, don't you Seppose I am not in as good
+    Possition as I was when I Harranged with sum difculty With you. The
+    boot with The blood Mark on the Soul is not Lost nor Distroyed, but
+    it is Safe in my Custody; so as Likewise in safe Keeping is The
+    traising, in paper, of the foot Mark in blood on the Floar of the
+    Smoaking Room in question, with the signatures of the witnesses
+    attached; and, Moreover, my Staitment made in the Form of a
+    Information, at the Time, and signed In witness of My signature by
+    two Unekseptinible witnesses. And all Is ready to Produise whenevor
+    his worshop shall Apoynt. i have wrote To mister david Arden on this
+    Supget. i wrote to him just a week ago, he seaming To take a Intrast
+    in this Heer case; and, moreover, the two ieyes that sawd a certain
+    Person about the said smoaking Room, and in the saime, is Boath wide
+    open at This presen Time. mister Longcluse i do not Want to have
+    your Life, but gustice must Taike its coarse unless it is settled of
+    hand Slik. i will harrange the Same as last time, And i must have
+    two hundred And fifty pounds More on this Settlement than i Had last
+    time, for Dellay and loss of Time in this town. I will sign any law
+    paper in reason you may ask of me. My hadress is under cover to
+    Monseer Letexier, air-dresser, and incloses his card, which you Will
+    please send an Anser by return Of post, or else i Must sepose you
+    chose The afare shall take Its coarse; and i am as ever,
+
+    "Your obeediant servant to command,
+    "PAUL DAVIES."
+
+Never did paper look so dazzlingly white, or letters so intensely black,
+before Mr. Longcluse's eyes, as those of this ominous letter. He
+crumpled it up, and thrust it in his trousers pocket, and gave to the
+position a few seconds of intense thought.
+
+His first thought was, what a fool he was for not having driven Davies
+to the wall, and settled the matter with the high hand of the law at
+once. His next, what could bring him to Paris? He was there for
+something. To see possibly the family of Lebas, and collect and dovetail
+pieces of evidence, after his detective practice, a process which would
+be sure to conduct him to the Baron Vanboeren! Was this story of the
+boot and the tracing of the bloodstained foot-print true? Had this
+scoundrel reserved the strongest part of his case for this new
+extortion? Was his trouble to be never ending? If this accursed ferret
+were once to get into his warren, what power could unearth him, till the
+mischief was done?
+
+His eye caught again the words, on which, in the expressive phrase which
+Mr. Davies would have used, his "sight spred" as he held the letter
+before his eyes--"Mister Loncluse, i do not want to have your life." He
+ground his teeth, shook his fist in the air, and stamped on the floor
+with fury, at the thought that a brutal detective, not able to spell two
+words, and trained for such game as London thieves and burglars, should
+dare to hold such language to a man of thought and skill, altogether so
+masterly as he! That he should be outwitted by that clumsy scoundrel!
+
+Well, it was now to begin all over again. It should all go right this
+time. He thought again for a moment, and then sat down and wrote,
+commencing with the date and address--
+
+    "PAUL DAVIES,
+
+    "I have just received your note, which states that you have
+    succeeded in obtaining some additional information, which you think
+    may lead to the conviction of the murderer of M. Lebas, in the
+    Saloon Tavern. I shall be most happy to pay handsomely any expense
+    of any kind you may be put to in that matter. It is, indeed, no more
+    than I had already undertaken. I am glad to learn that you have also
+    written on the subject to Mr. David Arden, who feels entirely with
+    me. I shall take an early opportunity of seeing him. Persist in your
+    laudable exertions, and I shall not shrink from rewarding you
+    handsomely.
+
+    "Yours,
+    "WALTER LONGCLUSE."
+
+He addressed the letter carefully, and went himself and put it in the
+post-office.
+
+By this time Sir Richard Arden was awaiting him at home in his
+drawing-room, and as he walked homeward, under the lamps, in inward
+pain, one might have moralised with Peter Pindar--
+
+    "These fleas have other fleas to bite 'em
+     And so on _ad infinitum_."
+
+The secret tyrant had in his turn found a secret tyrant, not less cruel
+perhaps, but more ignoble.
+
+"You made your visit?" asked Mr. Longcluse.
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Anything to report?"
+
+"Absolutely nothing."
+
+A silence followed.
+
+"Where is Mr. Arden, your uncle?"
+
+"In Scotland."
+
+"How soon does he return?"
+
+"He will not be in town till spring, I believe; he is going abroad, but
+he passes through Southampton on his way to the Continent, on Friday
+next."
+
+"And makes some little stay there?"
+
+"I think he stays one night."
+
+"Then I'll go down and see him, and you shall come with me."
+
+Sir Richard stared.
+
+"Yes, and you had better not put your foot in it; and clear your head of
+all notion of running away," he said, fixing his fiery eyes on Sir
+Richard, with a sudden ferocity that made him fancy that his secret
+thoughts had revealed themselves under that piercing gaze. "It is not
+easy to levant now-a-days, unless one has swifter wings than the wires
+can carry news with; and if you are false, what more do I need than to
+blast you? and with your name in the _Hue-and-Cry_, and a thousand
+pounds reward for the apprehension of Sir Richard Arden, Baronet, for
+forgery, I don't see much more that infamy can do for you."
+
+A dark flush crossed Arden's face as he rose.
+
+"Not a word now," cried Longcluse harshly, extending his hand quickly
+towards him; "I may do that which can't be undone."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER LXXV.
+
+BLIGHT AND CHANGE.
+
+
+Danger to herself, Alice suspected none. But she was full of dreadful
+conjectures about her brother. There was, she was persuaded, no good any
+longer in remonstrance or entreaty. She could not upbraid him; but she
+was sure that the terrible fascination of the gaming-table had caused
+the sudden ruin he vaguely confessed.
+
+"Oh," she often repeated, "that Uncle David were in town, or that I knew
+where to find him!"
+
+"But no doubt," she thought, "Richard will hide nothing from him, and
+perhaps my hinting his disclosures, even to him, would aggravate poor
+Richard's difficulties and misery."
+
+It was not until the next evening that, about the same hour, she again
+saw her brother. His good resolutions in the interval had waxed faint.
+They were not reversed, but only in the spirit of indecision, and
+something of the apathy of despair, postponed to a more convenient
+season.
+
+To her he seemed more tranquil. He said vaguely that the reasons for
+flight were less urgent and that she had better continue her
+preparations, as before, for her journey to Yorkshire.
+
+Even under these circumstances the journey to Yorkshire was pleasant.
+There was comfort in the certainty that he would there be beyond the
+reach of that fatal temptation which had too plainly all but ruined him.
+From the harrassing distractions, also, which in London had of late
+beset him, almost without intermission, he might find in the seclusion
+of Arden a temporary calm. There, with Uncle David's help, there would
+be time, at least, to ascertain the extent of his losses, and what the
+old family of Arden might still count upon as their own, and a plan of
+life might be arranged for the future.
+
+Full of these more cheery thoughts, Alice took leave of her brother.
+
+"I am going," he said, looking at his watch, "direct to Brighton; I have
+just time to get to the station nicely; business, of course--a meeting
+to-night with Bexley, who is staying there, and in the morning a long
+and, I fear, angry discussion with Charrington, who is also at
+Brighton."
+
+He kissed his sister, sighed deeply, and looking in her eyes for a
+little, fixedly, he said--
+
+"Alice, darling, you must try to think what sacrifice you can make to
+save your wretched brother."
+
+Their eyes met as she looked up, her hands about his neck, his on her
+shoulders; he drew his sister to him quickly, and with another kiss,
+turned, ran down stairs, got into his cab, and drove down the avenue.
+She stood looking after him with a heavy heart. How happy they two might
+have been, if it had not been for the one incorrigible insanity!
+
+About an hour later, as the sun was near its setting, she put on her hat
+and short grey cloak, and stepped out into its level beams, and looked
+round smiling. The golden glow and transparent shadows made that
+beautiful face look more than ever lovely. All around the air was
+ringing with the farewell songs of the small birds, and, with a heart
+almost rejoicing in sympathy with that beautiful hour, she walked
+lightly to the old garden, which in that luminous air, looked, she
+thought, so sad and pretty.
+
+The well-worn aphorism of the Frenchman, "History repeats itself," was
+about to assert itself. Sometimes it comes in literal sobriety,
+sometimes in derisive travesti, sometimes in tragic aggravation.
+
+She is in the garden now. The associations of place recall her strange
+interview with Mr. Longcluse but a few months before. Since then a
+blight has fallen on the scenery, and what a change upon the persons!
+The fruit-leaves are yellow now, and drifts of them lie upon the walks.
+Mantling ivy, as before, canopies the door, interlaced with climbing
+roses; but they have long shed their honours. This thick mass of dark
+green foliage and thorny tendrils forms a deep arched porch, in the
+shadow of which, suddenly, as on her return she reached it, she sees Mr.
+Longcluse standing within a step or two of her.
+
+He raises his hand, it might be in entreaty, it might be in menace; she
+could not, in the few alarmed moments in which she gazed at his dark
+eyes and pale equivocal face, determine anything.
+
+"Miss Arden, you may hate me; you can't despise me. You _must_ hear me,
+because you are in my power. I relent, mind you, thus far, that I give
+you one chance more of reconciliation; don't, for God's sake, throw it
+from you!" (he was extending his open hand to receive hers). "Why should
+you prefer an unequal war with me? I tell you frankly you are in my
+power--don't misunderstand me--in _my power_ to this degree, that you
+shall _voluntarily_, as the more tolerable of two alternatives, submit
+with abject acquiescence to every one of my conditions. Here is my hand;
+think of the degradation I submit to in asking you to take it. You gave
+me no chance when I asked forgiveness. I tender you a full forgiveness;
+here is my hand, beware how you despise it."
+
+Fearful as he appeared in her sight, her fear gave way before her
+kindling spirit. She had stood before him pale as death--anger now fired
+her eye and cheek.
+
+"How dare you, Sir, hold such language to me! Do you suppose, if I had
+told my brother of your cowardice and insolence as I left the abbey the
+other day, you would have dared to speak to him, much less to me? Let me
+pass, and never while you live presume to address me more."
+
+Mr. Longcluse, with a slow recoil, smiling fixedly, and bowing, drew
+back and opened the door for her to pass. He did not any longer look
+like a villain whose heart had failed him.
+
+Her heart fluttered violently with fear as she saw that he stepped out
+after her, and walked by her side toward the house. She quickened her
+pace in great alarm.
+
+"If you had liked me ever so little," said he in that faint and horrible
+tone she remembered--"one, the smallest particle, of disinterested
+liking--the grain of mustard-seed--I would have had you fast, and made
+you happy, made you _adore_ me; _such_ adoration that you could have
+heard from my own lips the confession of my crimes, and loved me
+still--loved me more desperately. Now that you hate me, and I hate
+_you_, and have you in my power, and while I hate still admire
+you--still choose you for my wife--you shall hear the same story, and
+think me all the more dreadful. You sought to degrade me, and I'll
+humble you in the dust. Suppose I tell you I'm a criminal--the kind of
+man you have read of in trials, and can't understand, and can scarcely
+even believe in--the kind of man that seems to you as unaccountable and
+monstrous as a ghost--your terrors and horror will make my triumph
+exquisite with an immense delight. I don't want to smooth the way for
+you; you do nothing for me. I disdain hypocrisy. Terror drives you on;
+fate coerces you; you can't help yourself, and my delight is to make the
+plunge terrible. I reveal myself that you may know the sort of person
+you are yoked to. Your sacrifice shall be the agony of agonies, the
+death of deaths, and yet you'll find yourself unable to resist. I'll
+make you submissive as ever patient was to a mad doctor. If it took
+years to do it, you shall never stir out of this house till it is done.
+Every spark of insolence in your nature shall be trampled out; I'll
+break you thoroughly. The sound of my step shall make your heart jump; a
+look from me shall make you dumb for an hour. You shall not be able to
+take your eyes off me while I'm in sight, or to forget me for a moment
+when I am gone. The smallest thing you do, the least word you speak, the
+very thoughts of your heart, shall all be shaped under one necessity and
+one fear." (She had reached the hall door). "Up the steps! Yes; you wish
+to enter? Certainly."
+
+With flashing eyes and head erect, the beautiful girl stepped into the
+hall, without looking to the right or to the left, or uttering one word,
+and walked quickly to the foot of the great stair.
+
+If she thought that Mr. Longcluse would respect the barrier of the
+threshold, she was mistaken. He entered but one step behind her, shut
+the heavy hall door with a crash, dropped the key into his coat pocket,
+and signing with his finger to the man in the room to the right, that
+person stood up briskly, and prepared for action. He closed the door
+again, saying simply, "I'll call."
+
+The young lady, hearing his step, turned round and stood on the stair,
+confronting him fiercely.
+
+"You must leave this house this moment," she cried, with a stamp, with
+gleaming eyes and very pale.
+
+"By-and-by," he replied, standing before her.
+
+Could this be the safe old house in which childish days had passed, in
+which all around were always friendly and familiar faces? The window
+stood reflected upon the wall beside her in dim sunset light, and the
+shadows of the flowers sharp and still that stood there.
+
+"I have friends here who will turn you out, Sir!"
+
+"You have _no_ friends here," he replied, with the same fixed smile.
+
+She hesitated; she stepped down, but stopped in the hall. She remembered
+instantly that, as she turned, she had seen him take the key from the
+hall door.
+
+"My brother will protect me."
+
+"Is he here?"
+
+"He'll call you to account to-morrow, when he comes."
+
+"Will he say so?"
+
+"Always--brave, true Richard!" she sobbed, with a strange cry in her
+words.
+
+"He'll do as I bid him: he's a forger, in my power."
+
+To her wild stare he replied with a low, faint laugh. She clasped her
+fingers over her temples.
+
+"Oh! no, no, no, no, no, no!" she screamed, and suddenly she rushed into
+the great room at her right. Her brother--was it a phantom?--stood
+before her. With one long, shrill scream, she threw herself into his
+arms, and cried, "It's a lie, darling, it's a lie!" and she had fainted.
+
+He laid her in the great chair by the fire-place. With white lips, and
+with one fist shaking wildly in the air, he said, with a dreadful shiver
+in his voice,--
+
+"You villain! you villain! you villain!"
+
+"Don't you be a fool," said Longcluse. "Ring for the maid. There must
+have been a crisis some time. I'm giving you a fair chance--trying to
+save you; they all faint--it's a trick with women."
+
+Longcluse looked into her lifeless face, with something of pity and
+horror mingling in the villany of his countenance.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER LXXVI.
+
+PHÅ’BE CHIFFINCH.
+
+
+Mr. Longcluse passed into the inner room, as he heard a step approaching
+from the hall. It was Louisa Diaper, in whose care, with the simple
+remedy of cold water, the young lady recovered. She was conveyed to her
+room, and Richard Arden followed, at Longcluse's command, to "keep
+things quiet."
+
+In an agony of remorse, he remained with his sister's hand in his,
+sitting by the bed on which she lay. Longcluse had spoken with the
+resolution that a few sharp and short words should accomplish the
+crisis, and show her plainly that her brother was, in the most literal
+and terrible sense, in his power, and thus, indirectly, she also.
+Perhaps, if she must know the fact, it was as well she should know it
+now.
+
+Longcluse, I suppose, had reckoned upon Richard's throwing himself upon
+his sister's mercy. He thought he had done so before, and moved her as
+he would have wished. Longcluse, no doubt, had spoken to her, expecting
+to find her in a different mood. Had she yielded, what sort of husband
+would he have made her? Not cruel, I daresay. Proud of her, he would
+have been. She should have had the best diamonds in England. Jealous,
+violent when crossed, but with all his malice and severity, easily by
+Alice to have been won, had she cared to win him, to tenderness.
+
+Was Sir Richard now seconding his scheme?
+
+Sir Richard had no plan--none for escape, none for a catastrophe, none
+for acting upon Alice's feelings.
+
+"I am so agitated--in such despair, so stunned! If I had but one clear
+hour! Oh, God! if I had but one clear hour to think in!"
+
+He was now trying to persuade Alice that Longcluse had, in his rage,
+used exaggerated language--that it was true he was in his power, but it
+was for a large sum of money, for which he was his debtor.
+
+"Yes, darling," he whispered, "only be firm. I shall get away, and take
+you with me--only be secret, and don't mind one word he says when he is
+angry--he is literally a madman; there is no limit to the violence and
+absurdity of what he says."
+
+"Is he still in the house?" she whispered.
+
+"Not he."
+
+"Are you certain?"
+
+"Perfectly; with all his rant, he dares not stay: it would be a
+police-office affair. He's gone long ago."
+
+"Thank God!" she said, with a shudder.
+
+Their agitated talk continued for some time longer. At last, darkly and
+suddenly, as usual, he took his leave.
+
+When her brother had gone, she touched the bell for Louisa Diaper. A
+stranger appeared.
+
+The stranger had a great deal of pink ribbon in her cap, she looked
+shrewd enough, and with a pair of rather good eyes; she looked curiously
+and steadily on the young lady.
+
+"Who are you?" said Alice, sitting up. "I rang for my maid, Louisa
+Diaper."
+
+"Please, my lady," she answers, with a short curtsey, "she went into
+town to fetch some things here from Sir Richard's house."
+
+"How long ago?"
+
+"Just when you was getting better, please, my lady."
+
+"When she returns send her to me. What is your name?"
+
+"Phœbe Chiffinch, please 'm."
+
+"And you are here----"
+
+"In her place, please my lady."
+
+"Well, when she comes back you can assist. We shall have a great deal to
+do, and I like your face, Phœbe, and I'm so lonely, I think I'll get you
+to sit here in the window near me."
+
+And on a sudden the young lady burst into tears, and sobbed and wept
+bitterly.
+
+The new maid was at her side, pouring all sorts of consolation into her
+ear, with odd phrases--quite intelligible, I daresay, over the bar of
+the "Guy of Warwick"--dropping h's in all directions, and bowling down
+grammatic rules like nine-pins.
+
+She was wonderfully taken by the kind looks and tones of the pretty lady
+whom she saw in this distress, and with the silk curtains drawn back in
+the fading flush of evening.
+
+Hard work, hard fare, and harder words had been her portion from her
+orphaned childhood upward, at the old "Guy of Warwick," with its dubious
+customers, failing business, and bitter and grumbling old hostess.
+Shrewd, hard, and not over-nice had Miss Phœbe grown up in that godless
+school.
+
+But she had taken a fancy, as the phrase is, to the looks of the young
+lady, and still more to her voice and words, that in her ears sounded so
+new and strange. There was not an unpleasant sense, too, of the
+superiority of rank and refinement which inspires an admiring awe in her
+kind; and so, in a voice that was rather sweet and very cheery, she
+offered, when the young lady was better, to sit by the bed and tell her
+a story, or sing her a song.
+
+Everyone knows how his view of his own case may vary within an hour.
+Alice was now of opinion that there was no reason to reject her
+brother's version of the terrifying situation. A man who could act like
+Mr. Longcluse, could, of course, say anything. She had begun to grow
+more cheerful, and in a little while she accepted the offer of her
+companion, and heard, first a story, and then a song; and, after all,
+she talked with her for some time.
+
+"Tell me, now, what servants there are in the house," asked Alice.
+
+"Only two women and myself, please, Miss."
+
+"Is there anyone else in the house, besides ourselves?"
+
+The girl looked down, and up again, in Alice's eyes, and then away to
+the floor at the other end of the room.
+
+"I was told, Ma'am, not to talk of nothing here, Miss, except my own
+business, please, my lady."
+
+"My God! This girl mayn't speak truth to me," exclaimed Alice, clasping
+her hands aghast.
+
+The girl looked up uneasily.
+
+"I should be sent away, Ma'am, if I do."
+
+"Look--listen: in this strait you must be for or against me; you can't
+be divided. For God's sake be a friend to me now. I may yet be the best
+friend you ever had. Come, Phœbe, trust me, and I'll never betray you."
+
+She took the girl's hand. Phœbe did not speak. She looked in her face
+earnestly for some moments, and then down, and up again.
+
+"I don't mind. I'll do what I can for you, Ma'am; I'll tell you what I
+know. But if you tell them, Ma'am, it will be awful bad for me, my
+lady."
+
+She looked again, very much frightened, in her face, and was silent.
+
+"No one shall ever know but I. Trust me entirely, and I'll never forget
+it to you."
+
+"Well, Ma'am, there is two men."
+
+"Who are they?"
+
+"Two men, please 'm. I knows one on 'em--he was keeper on the 'Guy o'
+Warwick,' please, my lady, when there was a hexecution in the 'ouse.
+They're both sheriff's men."
+
+"And what are they doing here?"
+
+"A hexecution, my lady."
+
+"That is, to sell the furniture and everything for a debt, isn't that
+it?" inquired the lady, bewildered.
+
+"Well, that was it below at the 'Guy o' Warwick,' Miss; but Mr. Vargers,
+he was courting me down there at the 'Guy o' Warwick,' and offered
+marriage if I would 'av 'ad him, and he tells me heverything, and he
+says that there's a paper to take you, please, my lady."
+
+"Take _me_?"
+
+"Yes, my lady; he read it to me in the room by the hall-door. Halice
+Harden, spinster, and something about the old guv'nor's will, please;
+and his horder is to take you, please, Miss, if you should offer to go
+out of the door; and there's two on 'em, and they watches turn about, so
+you can't leave the 'ouse, please, my lady; and if you try they'll only
+lock you up a prisoner in one room a-top o' the 'ouse; and, for your
+life, my lady, don't tell no one I said a word."
+
+"Oh! Phœbe. What can they mean? What's to become of me? Somehow or other
+you must get me out of this house. Help me, for God's sake! I'll throw
+myself from the window--I'll kill myself rather than remain in their
+power."
+
+"Hush! My lady, please, I may think of something yet. But don't you do
+nothing 'and hover 'ead. You must have patience. They won't be so sharp,
+maybe, in a day or two. I'll get you out if I can; and, if I can't, then
+God's will be done. And I'll make out what I can from Mr. Vargers; and
+don't you let no one think you likes me, and I'll be sly enough, you may
+count on me, my lady."
+
+Trembling all over, Alice kissed her.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER LXXVII.
+
+MORE NEWS OF PAUL DAVIES.
+
+
+Louisa Diaper did not appear that night, nor next morning. She had been
+spirited away like the rest. Sir Richard had told her that his sister
+desired that she should go into town, and stay till next day, under the
+care of the housekeeper in town, and that he would bring her a list of
+commissions which she was to do for her mistress preparatory to starting
+for Yorkshire. I daresay this young lady liked her excursion to town
+well enough. It was not till the night after that she started for the
+North.
+
+Alice Arden, for a time, lost heart altogether. It was no wonder she
+should.
+
+That her only brother should be an accomplice against her, in a plot so
+appalling, was enough to overpower her; her horror of Longcluse, the
+effectual nature of her imprisonment, and the strange and, as she
+feared, unscrupulous people by whom she had been so artfully surrounded,
+heightened her terrors to the pitch of distraction.
+
+At times she was almost wild; at others stupefied in despair; at others,
+again, soothed by the kindly intrepidity of Phœbe, she became more
+collected. Sometimes she would throw herself on her bed, and sob for an
+hour in helpless agony; and then, exhausted and overpowered, she would
+fall for a time into a deep sleep, from which she would start, for
+several minutes, without the power of collecting her thoughts, and with
+only the stifled cry, "What is it?--Where am I?" and a terrified look
+round.
+
+One day, in a calmer mood, as she sat in her room after a long talk with
+Phœbe, the girl came beside her chair with an oddly made key, with a
+little strap of white leather to the handle, in her hands.
+
+"Here's a latch-key, Miss; maybe you know what it opens?"
+
+"Where did you find it?"
+
+"In the old china vase over the chimney, please 'm."
+
+"Let me see--oh! dear, yes, this opens the door in the wall of the
+grounds, in that direction," and she pointed. "Poor papa lent it to my
+drawing-master. He lived somewhere beyond that, and used to let himself
+in by it when he came to give me my lessons."
+
+"I remember that door well, Miss," said Phœbe, looking earnestly on the
+key--"Mr. Crozier let me out that way, one day. Mr. Longcluse has put
+strangers, you know, in the gatehouse. That's shut against us. I'll tell
+you what, Miss--wait--well, I'll _think_. I'll keep this key safe,
+anyhow; and--the more the merrier," she added with a sudden alacrity,
+and lifting her finger, by way of signal, for everything now was done
+with caution here, she left the room, and passed through the suite to
+the landing, and quietly took out the door-keys, one by one, and
+returned with her spoil to Alice's room.
+
+"You thought they might lock us up?" whispered Alice.
+
+The girl nodded. "No harm to have 'em, Miss--it won't hurt us." She
+folded them tightly in a handkerchief, and thrust the parcel as far as
+her arm could reach between the mattress and the bed. "I'll rip the
+ticken a bit just now, and stitch them in," whispered the girl.
+
+"Didn't I hear another key clink as you put your hand in?" asked Alice.
+
+The girl smiled, and drew out a large key, and nodded, still smiling as
+she replaced it.
+
+"What does that open?" whispered Alice eagerly.
+
+"_Nothing_, Miss," said the girl gravely--"it's the key of the old
+back-door lock; but there's a new one there now, and this won't open
+nothing. But I have a use for it. I'll tell you all in time, Miss; and,
+please, you must keep up your heart, mind."
+
+Sir Richard Arden was not the cold villain you may suppose. He was
+resolved to make an effort of some kind for the extrication of his
+sister. He could not bear to open his dreadful situation to his Uncle
+David, nor to kill himself, nor to defy the vengeance of Longcluse. He
+would effect her escape and his own simultaneously. In the meantime he
+must acquiesce, ostensibly at least, in every step determined on by
+Longcluse.
+
+It was a bright autumnal day as Sir Richard and Mr. Longcluse took the
+rail to Southampton. Longcluse had his reasons for taking the young
+baronet with him.
+
+It was near the hour, by the time they got there, when David Arden would
+arrive from his northern point of departure. Longcluse looked
+animated--smiling; but a stupendous load lay on his heart. A single
+clumsy phrase in the letter of that detective scoundrel might be enough
+to direct the formidable suspicions of that energetic old gentleman upon
+him. The next hour might throw him altogether upon the defensive, and
+paralyse his schemes.
+
+Alice Arden, you little dream of the man and the route by which,
+possibly, deliverance is speeding to you.
+
+Near the steps of the large hotel that looks seaward, Longcluse and Sir
+Richard lounge, expecting the arrival of David Arden almost momentarily.
+Up drives a fly, piled with portmanteaus, hat-case, dressing-case, and
+all the other travelling appurtenances of a comfortable wayfarer. Beside
+the driver sits a servant. The fly draws up at the door near them.
+
+Mr. Longcluse's seasoned heart throbs once or twice oddly. Out gets
+Uncle David, looking brown and healthy after his northern excursion. On
+reaching the top of the steps, he halts, and turns round to look about
+him. Again Mr. Longcluse feels the same odd sensation.
+
+Uncle David recognises Sir Richard, and smiling greets him. He runs down
+the steps to meet him. After they have shaken hands, and, a little more
+coldly, he and Mr. Longcluse, he says,--
+
+"You are not looking yourself, Dick; you ought to have run down to the
+moors, and got up an appetite. How is Alice?"
+
+"Alice? Oh! Alice is very well, thanks."
+
+"I should like to run up to Mortlake to see her. She has been
+complaining, eh?"
+
+"No, no--better," says Sir Richard.
+
+"And you forget to tell your uncle what you told me," interposes Mr.
+Longcluse, "that Miss Arden left Mortlake for Yorkshire yesterday."
+
+"Oh!" said Uncle David, turning to Richard again.
+
+"And the servants went before--two or three days ago," said Sir Richard,
+looking down for a moment, and hastening, under that clear eye, to speak
+a little truth.
+
+"Well, I wish she had come with us," said David Arden; "but as she could
+not be persuaded, I'm glad she is making a little change of air and
+scene, in any direction. By-the-bye, Mr. Longcluse, you had a letter,
+had not you, from our friend, Paul Davies?"
+
+"Yes; he seemed to think he had found a clue--from Paris it was--and I
+wrote to tell him to spare no expense in pushing his inquiries and to
+draw upon me."
+
+"Well, I have some news to tell you. His exploring voyage will come to
+nothing; you did not hear?"
+
+"No."
+
+"Why, the poor fellow's dead. I got a letter--it reached me, forwarded
+from my house in town, yesterday, from the person who hires the
+lodgings--to say he had died of scarlatina very suddenly, and sending an
+inventory of the things he left. It is a pity, for he seemed a smart
+fellow, and sanguine about getting to the bottom of it."
+
+"An awful pity!" exclaimed Longcluse, who felt as if a mountain were
+lifted from his heart, and the entire firmament had lighted up; "an
+awful pity! Are you quite sure?"
+
+"There can't be a doubt, I'm sorry to say. Then, as Alice has taken
+wing, I'll pursue my first plan, and cross by the next mail."
+
+"For Paris?" inquired Mr. Longcluse, carelessly.
+
+"Yes, Sir, for Paris," answered Uncle David deliberately, looking at
+him; "yes, for Paris."
+
+And then followed a little chat on indifferent subjects. Then Uncle
+David mentioned that he had an appointment, and must dine with the dull
+but honest fellow who had asked him to meet him here on a matter of
+business, which would have done just as well next year, but he wished it
+now. Uncle David nodded, and waved his hand, as on entering the door he
+gave them a farewell smile over his shoulder.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER LXXVIII.
+
+THE CATACOMBS.
+
+
+At his disappearance, for Sir Richard the air darkened as when, in the
+tropics, the sun sets without a twilight, and the silence of an awful
+night descended.
+
+It seemed that safety had been so near. He had laid his hand upon it,
+and had let it glide ungrasped between his fingers; and now the sky was
+black above him, and an unfathomable sea beneath.
+
+Mr. Longcluse was in great spirits. He had grown for a time like the
+Walter Longcluse of a year before.
+
+They two dined together, and after dinner Mr. Longcluse grew happy, and
+as he sat with his glass by him, he sang, looking over the waves, a
+sweet little sentimental song, about ships that pass at sea, and smiles
+and tears, and "true, boys, true," and "heaven shows a glimpse of its
+blue." And he walks with Sir Richard to the station, and he says, low,
+as he leans and looks into the carriage window, of which young Arden was
+the only occupant--
+
+"Be true to me now, and we may make it up yet."
+
+And so saying, he gives his hand a single pressure as he looks hard in
+his eyes.
+
+The bell had rung. He was remaining there, he said, for another train.
+The clapping of the doors had ceased. He stood back. The whistle blew
+its long piercing yell, and as the train began to glide towards London,
+the young man saw the white face of Walter Longcluse in deep shadow, as
+he stood with his back to the lamp, still turned towards him.
+
+The train was now thundering on its course; the solitary lamp glimmered
+in the roof. He threw himself back, with his foot against the opposite
+seat.
+
+"Good God! what is one to resolve! All men are cruel when they are
+exasperated. Might not good yet be made of Longcluse? What creatures
+women are!--what fools! How easy all might have been made, with the
+least temper and reflection! What d----d selfishness!"
+
+                   *       *       *       *       *
+
+Uncle David was now in Paris. The moon was shining over that beautiful
+city. In a lonely street, in a quarter which fashion had long
+forsaken--over whose pavement, as yet unconscious of the Revolution, had
+passed, in the glare of torchlight, the carved and emblazoned carriages
+of an aristocracy, as shadowy now as the courts of the Cæsars--his
+footsteps are echoing.
+
+A huge house presents its front. He stops and examines it carefully for
+a few seconds. It is the house of which he is in search.
+
+At one time the Baron Vanboeren had received patients from the country,
+to reside in this house. For the last year, during which he had been
+gathering together his wealth, and detaching himself from business, he
+had discontinued this, and had gradually got rid of his establishment.
+
+When David Arden rang the bell at the hall-door, which he had to do
+repeatedly, it was answered at last by an old woman, high-shouldered,
+skin and bone, with a great nose, and big jaw-bones, and a high-cauled
+cap. This lean creature looks at him with a vexed and hollow eye. Her
+bony arm rests on the lock of the hall-door, and she blocks the narrow
+aperture between its edge and the massive door-case. She inquires in
+very nasal French what Monsieur desires.
+
+"I wish to see Monsieur the Baron, if he will permit me an interview,"
+answered Mr. Arden in very fair French.
+
+"Monsieur the Baron is not visible; but if Monsieur will,
+notwithstanding, leave any message he pleases for Monsieur the Baron, I
+will take care he receives it punctually."
+
+"But Monsieur the Baron appointed me to call to-night at ten o'clock."
+
+"Is Monsieur sure of that?"
+
+"Perfectly."
+
+"Eh, very well; but, if he pleases, I must first learn Monsieur's name."
+
+"My name is Arden."
+
+"I believe Monsieur is right." She took a bit of notepaper from her
+capacious pocket, and peering at it, spelled aloud, "D-a-v-i-d----"
+
+"A-r-d-e-n," interrupted and continued the visitor, spelling his name,
+with a smile.
+
+"A-r-d-e-n," she followed, reading slowly from her paper; "yes, Monsieur
+is right. You see, this paper says, 'Admit Monsieur David Arden to an
+interview.' Enter, if you please Monsieur, and follow me."
+
+It was a decayed house of superb proportions, but of a fashion long
+passed away. The gaunt old woman, with a bunch of large keys clinking at
+her side, stalked up the broad stairs and into a gallery, and through
+several rooms opening _en suite_. The rooms were hung with cobwebs,
+dusty, empty, and the shutters closed, except here and there where the
+moonlight gleamed through chinks and seams.
+
+David Arden, before he had seen the Baron Vanboeren in London, had
+pictured him in imagination a tall old man with classic features, and
+manners courteous and somewhat stately.
+
+We do not fabricate such images; they rise like exhalations from a few
+scattered data, and present themselves spontaneously. It is this
+self-creation that invests them with so much reality in our
+imaginations, and subjects us to so odd a surprise when the original
+turns out quite unlike the portrait with which we have been amusing
+ourselves.
+
+She now pushed open a door, and said, "Monsieur the Baron here is
+arrived Monsieur David d'Ardennes."
+
+The room in which he now stood was spacious, but very nearly dark. The
+shutters were closed outside, and the moonlight that entered came
+through the circular hole cut in each. A large candle on a bracket
+burned at the further end of the room. There the baron stood. A
+reflector which interposed between the candle and the door at which
+David Arden entered directed its light strongly upon something which the
+baron held, and laid upon the table, in his hand; and now that he turned
+toward his visitor, it was concentrated upon his large face, revealing,
+with the force of a Rembrandt, all its furrows and finer wrinkles. He
+stood out against a background of darkness with remarkable force.
+
+The baron stood before him--a short man in a red waistcoat. He looked
+more broad-shouldered and short-necked than ever in his shirt-sleeves.
+He had an instrument in his hand resembling a small bit and brace, and
+some chips and sawdust on his flannel waistcoat, which he brushed off
+with two or three sweeps of his short fat fingers. He looked now like a
+grim old mechanic. There was no vivacity in his putty-coloured features,
+but there were promptitude and decision in every abrupt gesture. It was
+his towering, bald forehead, and something of command and savage energy
+in his lowering face, that redeemed the _tout ensemble_ from an almost
+brutal vulgarity.
+
+The baron was not in the slightest degree "put out," as the phrase is,
+at being detected in his present occupation and _deshabille_.
+
+He bowed twice to David Arden, and said, in English, with a little
+foreign accent--
+
+"Here is a chair, Monsieur Arden; but you can hardly see it until your
+eyes have grown a little accustomed to our _crépuscula_."
+
+This was true enough, for David Arden, though he saw him advance a step
+or two, could not have known what he held in the hand that was in
+shadow. The sound, indeed, of the legs of the chair, as he set it down
+upon the floor, he heard.
+
+"I should make you an apology, Mr. Arden, if I were any longer in my own
+home, which I am not, although this is still my house; for I have
+dismissed my servants, sold my furniture, and sent what things I cared
+to retain over the frontier to my new habitation, whither I shall soon
+follow; and this house too, I shall sell. I have already two or three
+gudgeons nibbling, Monsieur."
+
+"This house must have been the hotel of some distinguished family,
+Baron; it is nobly proportioned," said David Arden.
+
+As his eye became accustomed to the gloom, David Arden saw traces of
+gilding on the walls. The shattered frames on which the tapestry was
+stretched in old times remained in the panels, with crops of small,
+rusty nails visible. The faint candle-light glimmered on a ponderous
+gilded cornice, which had also sustained violence. The floor was bare,
+with a great deal of litter, and some scanty furniture. There was a
+lathe near the spot where David Arden stood, and shavings and splinters
+under his feet. There was a great block with a vice attached. In a
+portion of the fire-place was built a furnace. There were pincers and
+other instruments lying about the room, which had more the appearance of
+an untidy workshop than of a study, and seemed a suitable enough abode
+for the uncouth figure that confronted him.
+
+"Ha! Monsieur," growls the baron, "stone walls have ears, you say if
+only they had tongues; what tales _these_ could tell! This house was one
+of Madame du Barry's, and was sacked in the great Revolution. The
+mirrors were let into the plaster in the walls. In some of the rooms
+there are large fragments still stuck in the wall so fast, you would
+need a hammer and chisel to dislodge and break them up. This room was an
+ante-room, and admitted to the lady's bed-room by two doors, this and
+that. The panels of that other, by which you entered from the stair,
+were of mirror. They were quite smashed. The furniture, I suppose, flew
+out of the window; everything was broken up in small bits, and torn to
+rags, or carried off to the broker after the first fury, and
+_sansculotte_ families came in and took possession of the wrecked
+apartments. You will say then, what was left? The bricks, the stones,
+hardly the plaster on the walls. Yet, Monsieur Arden, I have discovered
+some of the best treasures the house contained, and they are at present
+in this room. Are you a collector, Monsieur Arden?"
+
+Uncle David disclaimed the honourable imputation. He was thinking of
+cutting all this short, and bringing the baron to the point. The old man
+was at the period when the egotism of age asserts itself, and was
+garrulous, and being, perhaps, despotic and fierce (he looked both), he
+might easily take fire and become impracticable. Therefore, on second
+thoughts, he was cautious.
+
+"You can now see more plainly," said the baron. "Will you approach?
+Concealed by a double covering of strong paper pasted over it, and
+painted and gilded, each of these two doors on its six panels contains
+six distinct master-pieces of Watteau's. I have known that for ten
+years, and have postponed removing them. Twelve Watteaus, as fine as any
+in the world! I would not trust their removal to any other hand, and so,
+the panel comes out without a shake. Come here, Monsieur, if you please.
+This candle affords a light sufficient to see, at least, some of the
+beauties of these incomparable works."
+
+"Thanks, Baron, a glance will suffice, for I am nothing of an artist."
+
+He approached. It was true that his sight had grown accustomed to the
+obscurity, for he could now see the baron's features much more
+distinctly. His large waxen face was shorn smooth, except on the upper
+lip, where a short moustache still bristled; short black eyebrows
+contrasted also with the bald massive forehead, and round the eyes was a
+complication of mean and cunning wrinkles. Some peculiar lines between
+these contracted brows gave a character of ferocity to this forbidding
+and sensual face.
+
+"Now! See there! Those four pictures--I would not sell those four
+Watteaus for one hundred thousand francs. And the other door is worth
+the same. Ha!"
+
+"You are lucky, Baron."
+
+"I think so. I do not wish to part with them: I don't think of selling
+them. See the folds of that brocade! See the ease and grace of the lady
+in the sacque, who sits on the bank there, under the myrtles, with the
+guitar on her lap! and see the animation and elegance of that dancing
+boy with the tambourine! This is a _chef-d'Å“uvre_. I ought not to part
+with that, on any terms--no, never! You no doubt know many collectors,
+wealthy men, in England. Look at that shot silk, green and purple; and
+whom do you take that to be a portrait of, that lady with the
+castanets?"
+
+He was pointing out each object, on which he descanted, with his stumpy
+finger, his hands being, I am bound to admit, by no means clean.
+
+"If you do happen to know such people, nevertheless, I should not object
+to your telling them where this treasure may be seen, I've no objection.
+I should not like to part with them, that is true. No, no, _no_; but
+every man may be tempted, it is possible--possible, just possible."
+
+"I shall certainly mention them to some friends."
+
+"Wealthy men, of course," said the baron.
+
+"It is an expensive taste, Baron, and none but wealthy people can
+indulge it."
+
+"True, and these would be _very_ expensive. They are unique; that lady
+there is the _Du Barry_--a portrait worth, alone, six thousand francs.
+Ha! he! Yes, when I take zese out and place zem, as I mean before I go,
+to be seen, they will bring all Europe together. _Mit speck fangt man
+mause_--with bacon one catches mice!"
+
+"No doubt they will excite attention, Baron. But I feel I am wasting
+your time and abusing your courtesy in permitting my visit, the
+immediate object of which was to earnestly beg from you some information
+which, I think, no one else can give me."
+
+"Information? Oh! ah! Pray resume your chair, Sir. Information? yes, it
+is quite possible I may have information such as you need, Heaven knows!
+But knowledge, they say, is power, and if I do you a service I expect as
+much from you. _Eine hand wascht die and're_--one hand, Monsieur, washes
+ze ozer. No man parts wis zat which is valuable, to strangers, wisout a
+proper honorarium. I receive no more patients here; but you understand,
+I may be induced to attend a patient: I may be _tempted_, you
+understand."
+
+"But this is not a case of attending a patient, Baron," said David
+Arden, a little haughtily.
+
+"And what ze devil _is_ it, then?" said the baron, turning on him
+suddenly. "Monsieur will pardon me, but we professional men must turn
+our time and knowledge to account, do you see? And we don't give eizer
+wizout being paid, and _well_ paid for them, eh?"
+
+"Of course. I meant nothing else," said David Arden.
+
+"Then, Sir, we understand one another so far, and that saves time. Now,
+what information can the Baron Vanboeren give to Monsieur David Arden?"
+
+"I think you would prefer my putting my questions quite straight."
+
+"Straight as a sword-thrust, Sir."
+
+"Then, Baron, I want to know whether you were acquainted with two
+persons, Yelland Mace and Walter Longcluse."
+
+"Yes, I knew zem bos, slightly and yet intimately--intimately and yet
+but slightly. You wish, perhaps, to learn particulars about those
+gentlemen?"
+
+"I do."
+
+"Go on: interrogate."
+
+"Do you perfectly recollect the features of these persons?"
+
+"I ought."
+
+"Can you give me an accurate description of Yelland Mace?"
+
+"I can bring you face to face with both."
+
+"By Jove! Sir, are you serious?"
+
+"Mr. Longcluse is in London."
+
+"But you talk of bringing me face to face with them; how soon?"
+
+"In five minutes."
+
+"Oh, you mean a photograph, or a picture?"
+
+"No, in the solid. Here is the key of the catacombs." And he took a key
+that hung from a nail on the wall.
+
+"Bah, ha, yah!" exploded the baron, in a ferocious sneer, rather than a
+laugh, and shrugging his great shoulders to his ears, he shook them in
+barbarous glee, crying--"What clever fellow you are, Monsieur Arden! you
+see so well srough ze millstone! _Ich bin klug und weise_--you sing zat
+song. I am intelligent and wise, eh, he! gra-a, ha, ha!"
+
+He seized the candlestick in one hand, and shaking the key in the other
+by the side of his huge forehead, he nodded once or twice to David
+Arden.
+
+"Not much life where we are going; but you shall see zem bose."
+
+"You speak riddles, Baron; but by all means bring me, as you say, face
+to face with them."
+
+"Very good, Monsieur; you'll follow me," said the baron. And he opened a
+door that admitted to the gallery, and, with the candle and the keys, he
+led the way, by this corridor, to an iron door that had a singular
+appearance, being sunk two feet back in a deep wooden frame, that threw
+it into shadow. This he unlocked, and with an exertion of his weight and
+strength, swung slowly open.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER LXXIX.
+
+RESURRECTIONS.
+
+
+David Arden entered this door, and found himself under a vaulted roof of
+brick. These were the chambers, for there was at least two, which the
+baron termed his catacombs. Along both walls of the narrow apartment
+were iron doors, in deep recesses, that looked like the huge ovens of an
+ogre, sunk deep in the wall, and the baron looked himself not an
+unworthy proprietor. The baron had the General's faculty of remembering
+faces and names.
+
+"Monsieur Yelland Mace? Yes, I will show you him; he is among ze dead."
+
+"Dead?"
+
+"Ay, zis right side is _dead_--all zese."
+
+"Do you mean," says David Arden, "_literally_ that Yelland Mace is no
+longer living?"
+
+"A, B, C, D, E, F, G," mutters the baron, slowly pointing his finger
+along the right wall.
+
+"I beg your pardon, Baron, but I don't think you heard me," said David
+Arden.
+
+"_Perfectly_, excuse me: H, I, J, K, L, M--M. I will show you _now_, if
+you desire it, Yelland Mace; you shall see him now, and never behold him
+more. Do you wish very much?"
+
+"Intensely--_most_ intensely!" said Uncle David earnestly.
+
+The baron turned full upon him, and leaned his shoulders against the
+iron door of the recess. He had taken from his pocket a bunch of heavy
+keys, which he dangled from his clenched fingers, and they made a faint
+jingle in the silence that followed, for a few seconds.
+
+"Permit me to ask," said the baron, "are your inquiries directed to a
+legal object?"
+
+"I have no difficulty in saying yes," answered he; "a legal object,
+strictly."
+
+"A legal object, by which you gain considerably?" he asked slowly.
+
+"By which I gain the satisfaction of seeing justice done upon a
+villain."
+
+"That is fine, Monsieur. Eternal justice! I have thought and said that
+very often: _Vive la justice eternelle!_ especially when her sword
+shears off the head of my enemy, and her scale is laden with napoleons
+for my purse."
+
+"Monsieur le Baron mistakes, in my case; I have absolutely nothing to
+gain by the procedure I propose; it is strictly criminal," said David
+Arden drily.
+
+"Not an estate? not a slice of an estate? Come, come! _Thorheit!_ That
+is foolish talk."
+
+"I have told you already, nothing," repeated David Arden.
+
+"Then you don't care, in truth, a single napoleon, whether you win or
+lose. We have been wasting our time, Sir. I have no time to bestow for
+nothing; my minutes count by the crown, while I remain in Paris. I shall
+soon depart, and practise no more; and my time will become my own--still
+my own, by no means _yours_. I am candid, Sir, and I think you cannot
+misunderstand me; I must be paid for my time and opportunities."
+
+"I never meant anything else," said Mr. Arden sturdily; "I shall pay you
+liberally for any service you render me."
+
+"That, Sir, is equally frank; we understand now the principle on which I
+assist you. You wish to see Yelland Mace, so you shall."
+
+He turned about, and struck the key sharply on the iron door.
+
+"There he waits," said the baron, "and--did you ever see him?"
+
+"No."
+
+"Bah! what a wise man. Then I may show you whom I please, and you know
+nothing. Have you heard him described?"
+
+"Accurately."
+
+"Well, there is some little sense in it, after all. You shall see."
+
+He unlocked the safe, opened the door, and displayed shelves, laden with
+rudely-made deal boxes, each of a little more than a foot square. On
+these were marks and characters in red, some, and some in black, and
+others in blue.
+
+"Hé! you see," said the baron, pointing with his key, "my mummies are
+cased in hieroglyphics. Come! _Here_ is the number, the date, and the
+man."
+
+And lifting them carefully one off the other, he took out a deal box
+that had stood in the lowest stratum. The cover was loose, except for a
+string tied about it. He laid it upon the floor, and took out a plaster
+mask, and brushing and blowing off the saw-dust, held it up.
+
+David Arden saw a face with large eyes closed, a very high and thin
+nose, a good forehead, a delicately chiselled mouth; the upper lip,
+though well formed after the Greek model, projected a little, and gave
+to the chin the effect of receding in proportion. This slight defect
+showed itself in profile; but the face, looked at full front, was on the
+whole handsome, and in some degree even interesting.
+
+"You are quite sure of the identity of this?" asked Uncle David
+earnestly.
+
+There was a square bit of parchment, with two or three short lines, in a
+character which he did not know, glued to the concave reverse of the
+mask. The baron took it, and holding the light near, read, "Yelland
+Mace, suspect for his politics, May 2nd, 1844."
+
+"Yes," said Mr. Arden, having renewed his examination, "it very exactly
+tallies with the description; the nose aquiline, but very delicately
+formed. Is that writing in cypher?"
+
+"Yes, in cypher."
+
+"And in what language?"
+
+"German."
+
+David Arden looked at it.
+
+"You will make nothing of it. In these inscriptions, I have employed
+eight languages--five European, and three Asiatic--I am, you see,
+something of a linguist--and four distinct cyphers; so having that
+skill, I gave the benefit of it to my _friends_; this being secret."
+
+"Secret?--oh!" said Uncle David.
+
+"Yes, secret; and you will please to say nothing of it to any living
+creature until the twenty-first of October next, when I retire. You
+understand commerce, Mr. Arden. My practice is confidential, and I
+should lose perhaps eighty thousand francs in the short space that
+intervenes, if I were thought to have played a patient such a trick. It
+is but twenty days of reserve, and then I go and laugh at them, every
+one. Piff, puff, paff! ha! ha!"
+
+"Yes, I promise that also," said Uncle David dryly, and to himself he
+thought, "What a consummate old scoundrel!"
+
+"Very good, Sir; we shall want this of Yelland Mace again, just now; his
+face and coffin, ha! ha! can rest there for the present." He had
+replaced the mask in its box, and that lay on the floor. The door of the
+iron press he shut and locked. "Next, I will show you Mr. Longcluse:
+those are dead."
+
+He waved his short hand toward the row of iron doors which he had just
+visited.
+
+"Please, Sir, walk with me into this room. Ay, so. Here are the
+_resurrections_. Will you be good enough--L, Longcluse, M, one, two,
+three, four; _three_, yes, to hold this candlestick for a moment?"
+
+The baron unlocked this door, and, after some rummaging, he took forth a
+box similar to that he had taken out before.
+
+"Yes, right, Walter Longcluse. I tell you how you will see it best:
+there is brilliant moonlight, stand there."
+
+Through a circular hole in the wall there streamed a beam of moonlight,
+that fell upon the plaster-wall opposite with the distinctness of the
+circle of a magic-lantern.
+
+"You see it--you know it! Ha! ha! His pretty face!"
+
+He held the mask up in the moonlight, and the lineaments, sinister
+enough, of Mr. Longcluse stood, sharply defined in every line and
+feature, in intense white and black, against the vacant shadow behind.
+There was the flat nose, the projecting underjaw, the oblique, sarcastic
+eyebrow, even the line of the slight but long scar, than ran nearly from
+his eye to his nostril. The same, but younger.
+
+"There is no doubt about _that_. But when was it taken? Will you read
+what is written upon it?"
+
+Uncle David had taken out the candle, and he held it beside the mask.
+The baron turned it round, and read, "Walter Longcluse, 15th October,
+1844."
+
+"The same year in which Mace's was taken?"
+
+"So it is, 1844."
+
+"But there is a great deal more than you have read, written upon the
+parchment in this one."
+
+"It looks more."
+
+"And _is_ more. Why, count the words, one, two, four, six, eight. There
+must be thirty, or upwards."
+
+"Well, suppose there are, Sir: I have read, nevertheless, all I mean to
+read for the present. Suppose we bring these three masks together. We
+can talk a little then, and I will perhaps tell you more, and disclose
+to you some secrets of nature and art, of which perhaps you suspect
+nothing. Come, come, Monsieur! kindly take the candle."
+
+The baron shut the iron door with a clang, and locked it, and, taking up
+the box, marched into the next room, and placing the boxes one on top of
+the other, carried them in silence out upon the gallery, accompanied by
+David Arden.
+
+How desolate seemed the silence of the vast house, in all which, by this
+time, perhaps, there did not burn another light!
+
+They now re-entered the large and strangely-littered chamber in which he
+had talked with the baron; they stop among the chips and sawdust with
+which his work has strewn the floor.
+
+"Set the candle on this table," says he. "I'll light another for a time.
+See all the trouble and time you cost me!"
+
+He placed the two boxes on the table.
+
+"I am extremely sorry----"
+
+"Not on my account, you needn't. You'll pay me well for it."
+
+"So I will, Baron."
+
+"Sit you down on that, Monsieur."
+
+He placed a clumsy old chair, with a balloon-back, for his visitor, and,
+seating himself upon another, he struck his hand on the table, and said,
+arresting for a moment the restless movement of his eyes, and fixing on
+him a savage stare--
+
+"You shall see wonders and hear marvels, if only you are willing to pay
+what they are worth." The baron laughed when he had said this.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER LXXX.
+
+ANOTHER.
+
+
+"You shall sit here, Mr. Arden," said the baron, placing a chair for
+him. "You shall be comfortable. I grow in confidence with you. I feel
+inwardly an intuition when I speak wis a man of honour; my demon, as it
+were, whispers 'Trust him, honour him, make much of him.' Will you take
+a pipe, or a mug of beer?"
+
+This abrupt invitation Mr. Arden civilly declined.
+
+"Well, I shall have my pipe and beer. See, there is ze barrel--not far
+to go." He raised the candle, and David Arden saw for the first time the
+outline of a veritable beer-barrel in the corner, on tressels, such as
+might have regaled a party of boors in the clear shadow of a Teniers.
+
+"There is the comely beer-cask, not often seen in Paris, in the corner
+of our boudoir, resting against the only remaining rags of the sky-blue
+and gold silk--it is rotten now--with which the room was hung, and a
+gilded cornice--it is black now--over its head; and now, instead of
+beautiful women and graceful youths, in gold lace and cut velvets and
+perfumed powder, there are but one rheumatic and crooked old woman, and
+one old Prussian doctor, in his shirt-sleeves, ha! ha! _mutat terra
+vices!_ Come, we shall look at these again, and you shall hear more."
+
+He placed the two masks upon the chimney-piece, leaning against the
+wall.
+
+"And we will illuminate them," says he; and he takes, one after the
+other, half a dozen pieces of wax candle, and dripping the melting wax
+on the chimney-piece, he sticks each candle in turn in a little pool of
+its own wax.
+
+"I spare nothing, you see, to make all plain. Those two faces present a
+marked contrast. Do you, Mr. Arden, know anything, ever so little, of
+the fate of Yelland Mace?"
+
+"Nothing. Is he living?"
+
+"Suppose he is dead, what then?"
+
+"In that case, of course, I take my leave of the inquiry, and of you,
+asking you simply one question, whether there was any correspondence
+between Yelland Mace and Walter Longcluse?"
+
+"A very intimate correspondence," said the baron.
+
+"Of what nature?"
+
+"Ha! They have been combined in business, in pleasures, in crimes," said
+the baron. "Look at them. Can you believe it? So dissimilar! They are
+opposites in form and character, as if fashioned in expression and in
+feature each to contradict the other; yet so united!"
+
+"And in crime, you say?"
+
+"Ay, in crime--in all things."
+
+"Is Yelland Mace still living?" urged David Arden.
+
+"Those features, in life, you will never behold, Sir."
+
+"He is dead. You said that you took that mask from among the dead. _Is_
+he dead?"
+
+"No, Sir; not actually dead, but under a strange condition. Bah; Don't
+you see I have a secret? Do you prize very highly learning where he is?"
+
+"Very highly, provided he may be secured and brought to trial; and you,
+Baron, must arrange to give your testimony to prove his identity."
+
+"Yes; that would be indispensible," said the baron, whose eyes were
+sweeping the room from corner to corner, fiercely and swiftly. "Without
+me you can never lift the veil; without me you can never unearth your
+stiff and pale Yelland Mace, nor without me identify and hang him."
+
+"I rely upon your aid, Baron," said Mr. Arden, who was becoming
+agitated. "Your trouble shall be recompensed; you may depend upon my
+honour."
+
+"I am running a certain risk. I am not a fool, though, like little
+Lebas. I am not to be made away with like a kitten; and once I move in
+this matter, I burn my ships behind me, and return to my splendid
+practice, under no circumstances, ever again."
+
+The baron's pallid face looked more bloodless, his accent was fiercer,
+and his countenance more ruffianly as he uttered all this.
+
+"I understood, Baron, that you had quite made up your mind to retire
+within a very few weeks," said David Arden.
+
+"Does any man who has lived as long as you or I quite trust his own
+resolution? No one likes to be nailed to a plan of action an hour before
+he need be. I find my practice more lucrative every day. I may be
+tempted to postpone my retirement, and for a while longer to continue to
+gather the golden harvest that ripens round me. But once I take this
+step, all is up with that. You see--you understand. Bah! you are no
+fool; it is plain, all I sacrifice."
+
+"Of course, Baron, you shall take no trouble, and make no sacrifice,
+without ample compensation. But are you aware of the nature of the crime
+committed by that man?"
+
+"I never trouble my head about details; it is enough, the man is a
+political refugee, and his object concealment."
+
+"But he was no political refugee; he had nothing to do with politics--he
+was simply a murderer and a robber."
+
+"What a little rogue! Will you excuse my smoking a pipe and drinking a
+little beer? Now, he never hinted that, although I knew him very
+intimately, for he was my patient for some months; never hinted it, he
+was so sly."
+
+"And Mr. Longcluse, was _he_ your patient also?"
+
+"Ha! to be sure he was. You won't drink some beer? No; well, in a
+moment."
+
+He drew a little jugful from the cask, and placed it, and a pewter
+goblet, on the table, and then filled, lighted, and smoked his pipe as
+he proceeded.
+
+"I will tell you something concerning those gentlemen, Mr. Longcluse and
+Mr. Mace, which may amuse you. Listen."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER LXXXI.
+
+BROKEN.
+
+
+"My hands were very full," said the baron, displaying his stumpy
+fingers. "I received patients in this house; I had what you call many
+irons in ze fire. I was making napoleons then, I don't mind telling you,
+as fast as a man could run bullets. My minutes counted by the crown. It
+was in the month of May, 1844, late at night, a man called here, wanting
+to consult me. He called himself Herr von Konigsmark. I went down and
+saw him in my audience room. He knew I was to be depended upon. Such
+people tell one another who may be trusted. He told me he was an
+Austrian proscribed: very good. He proposed to place himself in my
+hands: very well. I looked him in the face--you have _there_ exactly
+what I saw."
+
+He extended his hand toward the mask of Yelland Mace.
+
+"'You are an Austrian,' I said, 'a native subject of the empire?'
+
+"'Yes.'
+
+"'Italian?'
+
+"'No.'
+
+"'Hungarian?'
+
+"'No.'
+
+"'Well, you are not _German_--ha, ha!--I can swear to that.'
+
+"He was speaking to me in German.
+
+"'Your accent is foreign. Come, confidence. You must be no impostor. I
+must make no mistake, and blunder into a national type of features, all
+wrong; if I make your mask, it must do us credit. I know many
+gentlemen's secrets, and as many ladies' secrets. A man of honour! What
+are you afraid of?'"
+
+"You were not a statuary?" said Uncle David, astonished at his
+versatility.
+
+"Oh, yes! A statuary, but only in grotesque, you understand. I will show
+you some of my work by-and-by."
+
+"And I shall perhaps understand."
+
+"You _shall_, _perfectly_. With some reluctance, then, he admitted that
+what I positively asserted was true; for I told him I knew from his
+accent he was an Englishman. Then, with some little pressure, I invited
+him to tell his name. He did--it was Yelland Mace. _That_ is Yelland
+Mace."
+
+He had now finished his pipe: he went over to the chimney-piece, and
+having knocked out the ashes, and with his pipe pointing to the tip of
+the long thin plaster nose, he said, "Look well at him. Look till you
+know all his features by rote. Look till you fix them for the rest of
+your days well in memory, and then say what in the devil's name you
+could make of them. Look at that high nose, as thin as a fish-knife.
+Look at the line of the mouth and chin; see the mild gentlemanlike
+contour. If you find a fellow with a flat nose, and a pair of upper
+tusks sticking out an inch, and a squint that turns out one eye like the
+white of an egg, you pull out the tusks, you raise the skin of the nose,
+slice a bit out of the cheek, and make a false bridge, as high as you
+please; heal the cheek with a stitch or two, and operate with the lancet
+for the squint, and your bust is complete. Bravo! you understand?"
+
+"I confess, Baron, I do not."
+
+"You shall, however. Here is the case--a political refugee, like
+Monsieur Yelland Mace----"
+
+"But he was no such thing."
+
+"Well, a criminal--any man in such a situation is, for me, a political
+refugee zat, for reasons, desires to revisit his country, and yet must
+be so thoroughly disguised zat by no surprise, and by no process, can he
+be satisfactorily recognised; he comes to me, tells me his case, and
+says, 'I desire, Baron, to become your patient,' and so he places
+himself in my hands, and so--ha, ha! You begin to perceive?"
+
+"Yes, I do! I think I understand you clearly. But, Lord bless me! what a
+nefarious trade!" exclaimed Uncle David.
+
+The baron was not offended; he laughed.
+
+"Nevertheless," said he, "There's no harm in that. Not that I care much
+about the question of right or wrong in the matter; but there's none.
+Bah! who's the worse of his going back? or, if he did not, who's the
+better?"
+
+Uncle David did not care to discuss this point in ethics, but simply
+said,--
+
+"And Mr. Longcluse was also a patient of yours?"
+
+"Yes, certainly," said the baron.
+
+"We Londoners know nothing of his history," said Mr. Arden.
+
+"A political refugee, like Mr. Mace," said the baron. "Now, look at Herr
+Yelland Mace. It was a severe operation, but a beautiful one! I opened
+the skin with a single straight cut from the lachrymal gland to the
+nostril, and one underneath meeting it, you see" (he was tracing the
+line of the scalpel with the stem of his pipe), "along the base of the
+nose from the point. Then I drew back the skin over the bridge, and then
+I operated on the bone and cartilage, cutting them and the muscle at the
+extremity down to a level with the line of the face, and drew the flap
+of skin back, cutting it to meet the line of the skin of the cheek;
+_there_, you see, so much for the nose. Now see the curved eyebrow.
+Instead of that very well marked arch, I resolved it should slant from
+the radix of the nose in a straight line obliquely upward; to effect
+which I removed at the upper edge of each eyebrow, at the corner next
+the temple, a portion of the skin and muscle, which, being reunited and
+healed, produced the requisite contraction, and thus drew that end of
+each brow upward. And now, having disposed of the nose and brows, I come
+to the mouth. Look at the profile of this mask."
+
+He was holding that of Yelland Mace toward Mr. Arden, and with the bowl
+of the pipe in his right hand, pointed out the lines and features on
+which he descanted, with the amber point of the stem.
+
+"Now, if you observe, the chin in this face, by reason of the marked
+prominence of the nose, has the effect of receding, but it does not. If
+you continue the perpendicular line of ze forehead, ze chin, you see,
+meets it. The upper lip, though short and well-formed, projects a good
+deal. Ze under lip rather retires, and this adds to the receding effect
+of the chin, you see. My _coup-d'Å“il_ assured me that it was practicable
+to give to this feature the character of a projecting under-jaw. The
+complete depression of the nose more than half accomplished it. The rest
+is done by cutting away two upper and four under-teeth, and substituting
+false ones at the desired angle. By that application of dentistry I
+obtained zis new line." (He indicated the altered outline of the
+features, as before, with his pipe). "It was a very pretty operation.
+The effect you could hardly believe. He was two months recovering,
+confined to his bed, ha! ha! We can't have an immovable mask of living
+flesh, blood, and bone for nothing. He was threatened with erysipelas,
+and there was a rather critical inflammation of the left eye. When he
+could sit up, and bear the light, and looked in the glass, instead of
+thanking me, he screamed like a girl, and cried and cursed for an hour,
+ha, ha, ha! He was glad of it afterward: it was so complete. Look at it"
+(he held up the mask of Yelland Mace): "a face, on the whole,
+good-looking, but a little of a parrot-face, you know. I took him into
+my hands with that face, and" (taking up the mask of Mr. Longcluse, and
+turning it with a slow oscillation so as to present it in every aspect),
+he added, "these are the features of Yelland Mace as I sent him into the
+world with the name of Herr Longcluse!"
+
+"You mean to say that Yelland Mace and Walter Longcluse are the same
+person?" cried David Arden, starting to his feet.
+
+"I swear that here is Yelland Mace _before_, and here _after_ the
+operation, call him what you please. When I was in London, two months
+ago, I saw Monsieur Longcluse. _He_ is Yelland Mace; and these two masks
+are both masks of the same Yelland Mace."
+
+"Then the evidence is complete," said David Arden, with awe in his face,
+as he stood for a moment gazing on the masks which the Baron Vanboeren
+held up side by side before him.
+
+"Ay, the masks and the witness to explain them," said the baron,
+sturdily.
+
+"It is a perfect identification," murmured Mr. Arden, with his eyes
+still riveted on the plaster faces. "Good God! how wonderful that proof,
+so complete in all its parts, should remain!"
+
+"Well, I don't love Longcluse, since so he is named; he disobliged me
+when I was in London," said the baron. "Let him hang, since so you
+ordain it. I'm ready to go to London, give my evidence, and produce
+these plaster casts. But my time and trouble must be considered."
+
+"Certainly."
+
+"Yes," said the baron; "and to avoid tedious arithmetic, and for the
+sake of convenience, I will agree to visit London, at what time you
+appoint, to bring with me these two masks, and to give my evidence
+against Yelland Mace, otherwise Walter Longcluse, my stay in London not
+to exceed a fortnight, for ten thousand pounds sterling."
+
+"I don't think, Baron, you can be serious," said Mr. Arden, as soon as
+he had recovered breath.
+
+"Donner-wetter! I will show you that I am!" bawled the baron. "Now or
+never, Sir. Do as you please. I sha'n't abate a franc. Do you like my
+offer?"
+
+On the event of this bargain are depending issues of which David Arden
+knows nothing; the dangers, the agonies, the salvation of those who are
+nearest to him on earth. The villain Longcluse, and the whole fabric of
+his machinations, may be dashed in pieces by a word.
+
+How, then, did David Arden, who hated a swindle, answer the old
+extortioner, who asked him, "Do you like my offer?"
+
+"Certainly not, Sir," said David Arden, sternly.
+
+"Then _was_ scheert's mich! What do I care! No more, no more about it!"
+yelled the baron in a fury, and dashed the two masks to pieces on the
+hearth-stone at his feet, and stamped the fragments into dust with his
+clumsy shoes.
+
+With a cry, old Uncle David rushed forward to arrest the demolition, but
+too late. The baron, who was liable to such accesses of rage, was
+grinding his teeth, and rolling his eyes, and stamping in fury.
+
+The masks, those priceless records, were gone, past all hope of
+restoration. Uncle David felt for a moment so transported with anger,
+that I think he was on the point of striking him. How it would have
+fared with him, if he had, I can't tell.
+
+"Now!" howled the baron, "ten times ten thousand pounds would not place
+you where you were, Sir. You fancied, perhaps, I would stand haggling
+with you all night, and yield at last to your obstinacy. What is my
+answer? The floor strewn with the fragments of your calculation. Where
+will you turn--what will you do now?"
+
+"Suppose I do this," said Uncle David fiercely--"report to the police
+what I have seen--your masks and all the rest, and accomplish, besides,
+all I require, by my own evidence as to what I myself saw?"
+
+"And I will confront you, as a witness," said the baron, with a cold
+sneer, "and deny it all--swear it is a dream, and aid your poor
+relatives in proving you unfit to manage your own money matters."
+
+Uncle David paused for a moment. The baron had no idea how near he was,
+at that moment, to a trial of strength with his English visitor. Uncle
+David thinks better of it, and he contents himself with saying, "I shall
+have advice, and you shall _most certainly_ hear from me again."
+
+Forth from the room strides David Arden in high wrath. Fearing to lose
+his way, he bawls over the banister, and through the corridors, "Is any
+one there?" and after a time the old woman, who is awaiting him in the
+hall, replies, and he is once more in the open street.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER LXXXII.
+
+DOPPELGANGER.
+
+
+It was late, he did not know or care how late. He was by no means
+familiar with this quarter of the city. He was agitated and angry, and
+did not wish to return to his hotel till he had a little walked off his
+excitement. Slowly he sauntered along, from street to street. These were
+old-fashioned, such as were in vogue in the days of the Regency. Tall
+houses, with gables facing the street; few of them showing any light
+from their windows, and their dark outlines discernible on high against
+the midnight sky. Now he heard the voices of people near, emerging from
+a low theatre in a street at the right. A number of men come along the
+trottoir, toward Uncle David. They were going to a gaming-house and
+restaurant at the end of the street, which he had nearly reached. This
+troop of idlers he accompanies. They turn into an open door, and enter a
+passage not very brilliantly lighted. At the left was the open door of a
+restaurant. The greater number of those who enter follow the passage,
+however, which leads to the roulette-room.
+
+As Uncle David, with a caprice of curiosity, follows slowly in the wake
+of this accession to the company, a figure passes and goes before him
+into the room.
+
+With a strange thrill he takes or mistakes this figure for Mr.
+Longcluse. He pauses, and sees the tall figure enter the roulette-room.
+He follows it as soon as he recollects himself a little, and goes into
+the room. The players are, as usual, engrossed by the game. But at the
+far side beyond these busy people, he sees this person, whom he
+recognises by a light great-coat, stooping with his lips pretty near the
+ear of a man who was sitting at the table. He raises himself in a moment
+more, and stands before Uncle David, and at the first glance he is quite
+certain that Mr. Longcluse is before him. The tall man stands with
+folded arms, and looks carelessly round the room, and at Uncle David
+among the rest.
+
+"Here," he thought, "is the man; and the evidence, clear and conclusive,
+and so near this very spot, now scattered in dust and fragments, and the
+witness who might have clenched the case impracticable!"
+
+This tall man, however, he begins to perceive, has points, and strong
+ones, of dissimilarity, notwithstanding his general resemblance to Mr.
+Longcluse. His beard and hair are red; his shoulders are broader, and
+very round; much clumsier and more powerful he looks; and there is an
+air of vulgarity and swagger and boisterous good spirits about him,
+certainly in marked contrast with Mr. Longcluse's very quiet demeanour.
+
+Uncle David now finds himself in that uncomfortable state of oscillation
+between two opposite convictions which, in a matter of supreme
+importance, amounts very nearly to torture.
+
+This man does not appear at all put out by Mr. Arden's observant
+presence, nor even conscious of it. A place becomes vacant at the table,
+and he takes it, and stakes some money, and goes on, and wins and loses,
+and at last yawns and turns away, and walks slowly round to the door
+near which David Arden is standing. Is not this the very man whom he saw
+for a moment on board the steamer, as he crossed? As he passes a jet of
+gas, the light falls upon his face at an angle that brings out lines
+that seem familiar to the Englishman, and for the moment determines his
+doubts. David Arden, with his eyes fixed upon him, says, as he was about
+to pass him,--
+
+"How d'ye do, Mr. Longcluse?"
+
+The gentleman stops, smiles, and shrugs.
+
+"Pardon, Monsieur," he says in French, "I do not speak English or
+German."
+
+The quality of the voice that spoke these words was, he thought,
+different from Mr. Longcluse's--less tone, less depth, and more nasal.
+
+The gentleman pauses and smiles with his head inclined, evidently
+expecting to be addressed in French.
+
+"I believe I have made a mistake, Sir," hesitates Mr. Arden.
+
+The gentleman inclines his head lower, smiles, and waits patiently for a
+second or two. Mr. Arden, a little embarrassed, says,--
+
+"I thought, Monsieur, I had met you before in England."
+
+"I have never been in England, Monsieur," says the patient and polite
+Frenchman, in his own language. "I cannot have had the honour,
+therefore, of meeting Monsieur _there_."
+
+He pauses politely.
+
+"Then I have only to make an apology. I beg your--I beg--but surely--I
+think--by Jove!" he breaks into English, "I can't be mistaken--you _are_
+Mr. Longcluse."
+
+The tall gentleman looks so unaffectedly puzzled, and so politely
+good-natured, as he resumes, in the tones which seem perfectly natural,
+and yet one note in which David Arden fails to recognise, and says,--
+
+"Monsieur must not trouble himself of having made a mistake: my name is
+St. Ange."
+
+"I believe I _have_ made a mistake, Monsieur--pray excuse me."
+
+The gentleman bows very ceremoniously, and Monsieur St. Ange walks
+slowly out, and takes a glass of curaçoa in the outer room. As he is
+paying the _garçon_, Mr. Arden again appears, once more in a state of
+uncertainty, and again leaning to the belief that this person is indeed
+the Mr. Longcluse who at present entirely possesses his imagination.
+
+The tall stranger with the round shoulders in truth resembled the person
+who, in a midnight interview on Hampstead Heath, had discussed some
+momentous questions with Paul Davies, as we remember; but that person
+spoke in the peculiar accent of the northern border. _His_ beard, too,
+was exorbitant in length, and flickered wide and red, in the wind. This
+beard, on the contrary, was short and trim, and hardly so red, I think,
+as that moss-trooper's. On the whole, the likeness in both cases was
+somewhat rude and general. Still the resemblance to Longcluse again
+struck Mr. Arden so powerfully, that he actually followed him into the
+street and overtook him only a dozen steps away from the door, on the
+now silent pavement.
+
+Hearing his hurried step behind him, the object of his pursuit turns
+about and confronts him for the first time with an offended and haughty
+look.
+
+"Monsieur!" says he a little grimly, drawing himself up as he comes to a
+sudden halt.
+
+"The impression has forced itself upon me again that you _are_ no other
+than Mr. Walter Longcluse," says Uncle David.
+
+The tall gentleman recovered his good-humour, and smiled as before, with
+a shrug.
+
+"I have not the honour of that gentleman's acquaintance, Monsieur, and
+cannot tell, therefore, whether he in the least resembles me. But as
+this kind of thing is unusual, and grows wearisome, and may end in
+putting me out of temper--which is not easy, although quite
+possible--and as my assurance that I am really myself seems insufficient
+to convince Monsieur, I shall be happy to offer other evidence of the
+most unexceptionable kind. My house is only two streets distant. There
+my wife and daughter await me, and our curé partakes of our little
+supper at twelve. I am a little late," says he, listening, for the
+clocks are tolling twelve; "however, it is a little more than two
+hundred metres, if you will accept my invitation, and I shall be very
+happy to introduce you to my wife, to my daughter Clotilde, and to our
+good curé, who is a most agreeable man. Pray come, share our little
+supper, see what sort of people we are, and in this way--more agreeable,
+I hope, than any other, and certainly less fallacious--you can ascertain
+whether I am Monsieur St. Ange, or that other gentleman with whom you
+are so obliging as to confound me. Pray come; it is not much--a
+fricasée, a few cutlets, an omelette, and a glass of wine. Madame St.
+Ange will be charmed to make your acquaintance, my daughter will sing us
+a song, and you will say that Monsieur le Curé is really a most
+entertaining companion."
+
+There was something so simple and thoroughly good-natured in this
+invitation, under all the circumstances, that Mr. Arden felt a little
+ashamed of his persistent annoyance of so hospitable a fellow, and for
+the moment he was convinced that he must have been in error.
+
+"Sir," says David Arden, "I am now convinced that I must have been
+mistaken; but I cannot deny myself the honour of being presented to
+Madame St. Ange, and I assure you I am quite ashamed of the annoyance I
+must have caused you, and I offer a thousand apologies."
+
+"Not one, pray," replies the Frenchman, with great good-humour and
+gaiety. "I felicitate myself on a mistake which promises to result so
+happily."
+
+So side by side, at a leisurely pace, they pursued their way through
+these silent streets, and unaccountably the conviction again gradually
+stole over Uncle David that he was actually walking by the side of Mr.
+Longcluse.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER LXXXIII.
+
+A SHORT PARTING.
+
+
+The fluctuations of Mr. Arden's conviction continued. His new
+acquaintance chatted gaily. They passed a transverse street, and he saw
+him glance quickly right and left, with a shrewd eye that did not quite
+accord with his careless demeanour.
+
+Here for a moment the moon fell full upon them, and the effect of this
+new light was, once more, to impair Mr. Arden's confidence in his last
+conclusions about this person. Again he was at sea as to his identity.
+
+There were the gabble and vociferation of two women quarrelling in the
+street to the left, and three tipsy fellows, marching home, were singing
+a trio some way up the street to the right.
+
+They had encountered but one figure--a seedy scrivener, slipshod,
+shuffling his way to his garret, with a baize bag of law-papers to copy
+in his left hand, and a sheaf of quills in his right, and a pale,
+careworn face turned up towards the sky. The streets were growing more
+silent and deserted as they proceeded.
+
+He was sauntering onward by the side of this urbane and garrulous
+stranger, when, like a whisper, the thought came, "Take care!"
+
+David Arden stopped short.
+
+"Eh, bien?" said his polite companion, stopping simultaneously, and
+staring in his face a little grimly.
+
+"On reflection, Monsieur, it is so late, that I fear I should hardly
+reach my hotel in time if I were to accept your agreeable invitation,
+and letters probably await me, which I should, at least, _read_
+to-night."
+
+"Surely Monsieur will not disappoint me--surely Monsieur is not going to
+treat me so oddly?" expostulated Monsieur St. Ange.
+
+"Good-night, Sir. Farewell!" said David Arden, raising his hat as he
+turned to go.
+
+There intervened not two yards between them, and the polite Monsieur St.
+Ange makes a stride after him, and extends his hand--whether there is a
+weapon in it, I know not; but he exclaims fiercely,--
+
+"Ha! robber! my purse!"
+
+Fortunately, perhaps, at that moment, from a lane only a few yards away,
+emerge two gendarmes, and Monsieur St. Ange exclaims, "Ah, Monsieur,
+mille pardons! Here it is! All safe, Monsieur. Pray excuse my mistake as
+frankly as I have excused yours. Adieu!"
+
+Monsieur St. Ange raises his hat, shrugs, smiles, and withdrew.
+
+Uncle David thought, on the whole, he was well rid of his ambiguous
+acquaintance, and strode along beside the gendarmes, who civilly
+directed him upon his way, which he had lost.
+
+So, then, upon Mr. Longcluse's fortunes the sun shone; his star, it
+would seem, was in the ascendant. If the evil genius who ruled his
+destiny was contending, in a chess game, with the good angel of Alice
+Arden, her game seemed pretty well lost, and the last move near.
+
+When David Arden reached his hotel a note awaited him, in the hand of
+the Baron Vanboeren. He read it under the gas in the hall. It said:--
+
+    "We must, in this world, forgive and reconsider many things. I
+    therefore pardon you, you me. So soon as you have slept upon our
+    conversation, you will accept an offer which I cannot modify. I
+    always proportion the burden to the back. The rich pay me
+    handsomely; for the poor I have prescribed and operated, sometimes,
+    for nothing! You have the good fortune, like myself, to be
+    childless, wifeless, and rich. When I take a fancy to a thing,
+    nothing stops me; you, no doubt, in like manner. The trouble is
+    something to me; the danger, which you count nothing, to me is
+    _much_. The compensation I name, estimated without the circumstances,
+    is large; compared with my wealth, trifling; compared with
+    your wealth, nothing; as the condition of a transaction between
+    you and me, therefore, not worth mentioning. The accident of last
+    night I can repair. The original matrix of each mask remains safe in
+    my hands: from this I can multiply casts _ad libitum_. Both these
+    matrices I will hammer into powder at twelve o'clock to-morrow
+    night, unless my liberal offer shall have been accepted before that
+    hour. I write to a man of honour. We understand each other.
+
+    "EMMANUEL VANBOEREN."
+
+The ruin, then, was not irretrievable; and there was time to take
+advice, and think it over. In the baron's brutal letter there was a
+coarse logic, not without its weight.
+
+In better spirits David Arden betook himself to bed. It vexed him to
+think of submitting to the avarice of that wicked old extortioner; but
+to that submission, reluctant as he is, it seems probable he will come.
+
+And now his thoughts turn upon the hospitable Monsieur St. Ange, and he
+begins, I must admit not altogether without reason, to reflect what a
+fool he has been. He wonders whether that hospitable and polite
+gentleman had intended to murder him, at the moment when the gendarmes
+so luckily appeared. And in the midst of his speculations, overpowered
+by fatigue, he fell asleep, and ate his breakfast next morning very
+happily.
+
+Uncle David had none of that small diplomatic genius that helps to make
+a good attorney. That sort of knowledge of human nature would have
+prompted a careless reception of the baron's note, and an entire absence
+of that promptitude which seems to imply an anxiety to seize an offer.
+
+Accordingly, it was at about eleven o'clock in the morning that he
+presented himself at the house of the Baron Vanboeren.
+
+He was not destined to conclude a reconciliation with that German noble,
+nor to listen to his abrupt loquacity, nor ever more to discuss or
+negotiate anything whatsoever with him, for the Baron Vanboeren had been
+found that morning close to his hall door on the floor, shot with no
+less than three bullets through his body, and his pipe in both hands
+clenched to his blood-soaked breast like a crucifix. The baron is not
+actually dead. He has been hours insensible. He cannot live; and the
+doctor says that neither speech nor recollection can return before he
+dies.
+
+By whose hands, for what cause, in what manner the world had lost that
+excellent man, no one could say. A great variety of theories prevail on
+the subject. He had sent the old servant for Pierre la Roche, whom he
+employed as a messenger, and he had given him at about a quarter to
+eleven a note addressed to David Arden, Esquire, which was no doubt that
+which Mr. Arden had received.
+
+Had Heaven decreed that this investigation should come to naught? This
+blow seemed irremediable.
+
+David Arden, however, had, as I mentioned, official friends, and it
+struck him that he might through them obtain access to the rooms in
+which his interviews with the baron had taken place; and that an
+ingenious and patient artist in plaster might be found who would search
+out the matrices, or, at worst, piece the fragments of the mask
+together, and so, in part, perhaps, restore the demolished evidence. It
+turned out, however, that the destruction of these relics was too
+complete for any such experiments; and all that now remained was, upon
+the baron's letter of the evening before, to move in official quarters
+for a search for those "matrices" from which it was alleged the masks
+were taken.
+
+This subject so engrossed his mind, that it was not until after his late
+dinner that he began once more to think of Monsieur St. Ange, and his
+resemblance to Mr. Longcluse; and a new suspicion began to envelope
+those gentlemen in his imagination. A thought struck him, and up got
+Uncle David, leaving his wine unfinished, and a few minutes more saw him
+in the telegraph office, writing the following message:--
+
+    "From Monsieur David Arden, etc., to Monsieur Blount, 5 Manchester
+    Buildings, Westminster, London.
+
+    "Pray telegraph immediately to say whether Mr. Longcluse is at his
+    house, Bolton Street, Piccadilly."
+
+No answer reached him that night; but in the morning he found a telegram
+dated 11.30 of the previous night, which said--
+
+    "Mr. Longcluse is ill at his house at Richmond--better to-day."
+
+To this promptly he replied--
+
+    "See him, if possible, immediately at Richmond, and say how he
+    looks. The surrender of the lease in Crown Alley will be an excuse.
+    See him if there. Ascertain with certainty where. Telegraph
+    immediately."
+
+No answer had reached Uncle David at three o'clock P.M.; he had
+despatched his message at nine. He was impatient, and walked to the
+telegraph office to make inquiries, and to grumble. He sent another
+message in querulous and peremptory laconics. But no answer came till
+near twelve o'clock, when the following was delivered to him:--
+
+    "Yours came while out. Received at 6 P.M. Saw Longcluse at Richmond.
+    Looks seedy. Says he is all right now."
+
+He read this twice or thrice, and lowered the hand whose fingers held it
+by the corner, and looked up, taking a turn or two about the room; and
+he thought what a precious fool he must have appeared to Monsieur St.
+Ange, and then again, with another view of that gentleman's character,
+what an escape he had possibly had.
+
+So there was no distraction any longer; and he directed his mind now
+exclusively upon the distinct object of securing possession of the
+moulds from which the masks were taken; and for many reasons it is not
+likely that very much will come of his search.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER LXXXIV.
+
+AT MORTLAKE.
+
+
+Events do not stand still at Mortlake. It is now about four o'clock on a
+fine autumnal afternoon. Since we last saw her, Alice Arden has not once
+sought to pass the hall-door. It would not have been possible to do so.
+No one passed that barrier without a scrutiny, and the aid of the key of
+the man who kept guard at the door, as closely as ever did the office at
+the hatch of the debtor's prison. The suite of five rooms up-stairs, to
+which Alice is now strictly confined, is not only comfortable, but
+luxurious. It had been fitted up for his own use by Sir Reginald years
+before he exchanged it for those rooms down-stairs which, as he grew
+older, he preferred.
+
+Levi every day visited the house, and took a report of all that was said
+and planned up-stairs, in a _tête-à-tête_ with Phœbe Chiffinch, in the
+great parlour among the portraits. The girl was true to her young and
+helpless mistress, and was in her confidence, outwitting the rascally
+Jew, who every time, by Longcluse's order, bribed her handsomely for the
+information that was misleading him.
+
+From Phœbe the young lady concealed no pang of her agony. Well was it
+for her that in their craft they had exchanged the comparatively useless
+Miss Diaper for this poor girl, on whose apprenticeship to strange ways,
+and a not very fastidious life, they relied for a clever and
+unscrupulous instrument. Perhaps she had more than the cunning they
+reckoned upon. "But I 'av' took a liking to ye, Miss, and they'll not
+make nothing of Phœbe Chiffinch."
+
+Alice was alone in her room, and Phœbe Chiffinch came running up the
+great staircase singing, and through the intervening suite of rooms,
+entered that in which her young mistress awaited her return. Her song
+falters, and dies into a strange ejaculation, as she passes the door.
+
+"The Lord be thanked, that's over and done!" she exclaims, with a face
+pale from excitement.
+
+"Sit down, Phœbe; you are trembling; you must drink a little water. Are
+you well?"
+
+"La! quite well, Miss," said Phœbe, more cheerily, and then burst into
+tears. She gulped down some of the water which the frightened young lady
+held to her lips, and recovering quickly, she gets on her feet, and says
+impatiently--"I'm sure, Miss, I don't know what makes me such a fool;
+but I'm all right now, Ma'am; and you asked me, the other day, about the
+big key of the old back-door lock that I showed you, and I said, though
+it could not open no door, I would find a use for it, yet. So I 'av',
+Miss."
+
+"Go on; I recollect perfectly."
+
+"You remember the bit of parchment I asked you to write the words on
+yesterday evening, Miss? They was these: 'Passage on the left, from main
+passage to housekeeper's room,' etc. Well, I was with Mr. Vargers when
+he locked that passage up, and it leads to a door in the side of the
+'ouse, which it opens into the grounds; and in that houter door he left
+a key, and only took with him the key of the door at the other end,
+which it opens from the 'ousekeeper's passage. So all seemed sure--sure
+it is, so long as you can't get into that side passage, which it is
+locked."
+
+"I understand; go on, Phœbe."
+
+"Well, Miss, the reason I vallied that key I showed you so much, was
+because it's as like the key of the side passage as one egg is to
+another, only it won't turn in the lock. So, as that key I must 'av', I
+tacked the bit of parchment you wrote to the 'andle of the other, which
+the two matches exactly, and I didn't tell you, Miss, thinking what a
+taking you'd be in, but I went down to try if I could not take it for
+the right one."
+
+"It was kind of you not to tell me; go on," said the young lady.
+
+"Well, Miss, I 'ad the key in my pocket, ready to change; and I knew
+well how 'twould be, if I was found out--I'd get the sack, or be locked
+up 'ere myself, more likely, and no more chances for you. Mr. Vargers
+was in the room--the porter's room they calls it now--and in I goes. I
+did not see no one there, but Vargers and he was lookin' sly, I thought,
+and him and Mr. Boult has been talking me over, I fancy, and they don't
+quite trust me. So I began to talk, wheedling him the best I could to
+let me go into town for an hour; 'twas only for talk, for well I knew I
+shouldn't get to go; but nothing but chaff did he answer. And then, says
+I, is Mr. Levice come yet, and he said, he is, but he has a second key
+of the back door and he may 'av' let himself hout. Well, I says,
+thinking to make Vargers jealous, he's a werry pleasant gentleman, a bit
+too pleasant for me, and I'm a-going to the kitchen, and I'd rayther he
+wastnt there, smoking as he often does, and talking nonsense, when I'm
+in it. There's others that's nicer, to my fancy, than him--so, jest you
+go and see, and I'll take care of heverything 'ere till you come
+back--and don't you be a minute. There was the keys, lying along the
+chimney-piece, at my left, and the big table in front, and nothing to
+hinder me from changing mine for his, but Vargers' eye over me. Little I
+thought he'd 'av' bin so ready to do as I said. But he smiled to
+himself-like, and he said he'd go and see. So away he went; and I
+listens at the door till I heard his foot go on the tiles of the passage
+that goes down by the 'ousekeeper's room, and the billiard-room, to the
+kitchen; and then on tip-toe, as quick as light, I goes to the
+chimney-piece, and without a sound, I takes the very key I wanted in my
+fingers, and drops it into my pocket, but putting down the other in its
+place, I knocked down the big leaden hink-bottle, and didn't it make a
+bang on the floor--and a terrible hoarse voice roars out from the tother
+side of the table--'What the devil are you doing there, huzzy?' Saving
+your presence, Miss; and up gets Mr. Boult, only half awake, looking as
+mad as Bedlam, and I thought I would have fainted away! Who'd 'av'
+fancied he was in the room? He had his 'ead on the table, and the cloak
+over it, and I think, when they 'eard me a-coming downstairs, they
+agreed he should 'ide hisself so, to catch me, while Vargers would leave
+the room, to try if I would meddle with the keys, or the like--and while
+Mr. Boult was foxing, he fell asleep in right earnest. Warn't it a joke,
+Miss? So I brazent it hout, Miss, the best I could, and I threatened to
+complain to Mr. Levi, and said I'd stay no longer, to be talked to, that
+way, by sich as he. And Boult could not tell Vargers he was asleep, and
+so I saw him count over the keys, and up I ran, singing."
+
+By this time the girl was on her knees, concealing the key between the
+beds, with the others.
+
+"Thank God, Phœbe, you have got it! But, oh! all that is before us
+still!"
+
+"Yes, there's work enough, Miss. I'll not be so frightened no more. Tom
+Chiffinch, that beat the Finchley pet, after ninety good rounds, was my
+brother, and I won't show nothing but pluck, Miss, from this out--you'll
+see."
+
+Alice had proposed writing to summon her friends to her aid. But Phœbe
+protested against that extremely perilous measure. Her friends were away
+from London; who could say where? And she believed that the attempt to
+post the letters would miscarry, and that they were certain to fall into
+the hands of their jailors. She insisted that Alice should rely on the
+simple plan of escape from Mortlake.
+
+Martha Tansey, it is true, was anxious. She wondered how it was that she
+had not once heard from her young mistress since her journey to
+Yorkshire. And a passage in a letter which had reached her, from the old
+servant, at David Arden's town house, who had been mystified by Sir
+Richard, perplexed and alarmed her further, by inquiring how Miss Alice
+looked, and whether she had been knocked up by the journey to Arden on
+Wednesday.
+
+So matters stood.
+
+Each evening Mr. Levi was in attendance, and this day, according to
+rule, she went down to the grand old dining-room.
+
+"How'sh Miss Chiffinch?" said the little Jew, advancing to meet her;
+"how'sh her grashe the duchess, in the top o' the houshe? Ish my Lady
+Mount-garret ash proud ash ever?"
+
+"Well, I do think, Mr. Levice, there's a great change; she's bin growing
+better the last two days, and she's got a letter last night that's
+seemed to please her."
+
+"Wha'at letter?"
+
+"The letter you gave me last night for her."
+
+"O-oh! Ah! I wonder--eh? Do you happen to know what wa'azh in that ere
+letter?" he asked, in an insinuating whisper.
+
+"Not I, Mr. Levice. She don't trust me not as far as you'd throw a bull
+by the tail. You might 'av' managed that better. You must 'a frightened
+her some way about me. I try to be agreeable all I can, but she won't
+a-look at me."
+
+"Well, I don't want to know, _I'm_ sure. Did she talk of going out of
+doors since?"
+
+"No; there's a frost in the hair still, and she says till that's gone
+she won't stir out."
+
+"That frost will last a bit, I guess. Any more newshe?"
+
+"Nothing."
+
+"Wait a minute 'ere," said Mr. Levi, and he went into the room beyond
+this, where she knew there were writing materials.
+
+She waited some time, and at length took the liberty of sitting down.
+She was kept a good while longer. The sun went down; the drowsy crimson
+that heralds night overspread the sky. She coughed; several fits of
+coughing she tried at short intervals. Had Mr. Levice, as she called
+him, forgotten her? He came out at length in the twilight.
+
+"Shtay you 'ere a few minutes more," said that gentleman, as he walked
+thoughtfully through the room and paused. "You wazh asking yesterday
+where izh Sir Richard Arden. Well, hezh took hishelf off to Harden in
+Yorkshire, and he'll not be 'ome again for a week."
+
+Having delivered this piece of intelligence, he nodded, and slowly went
+to the hall, and closed the door carefully as he left the room. She
+followed to the door and listened. There was plainly a little fuss going
+on in the hall. She heard feet in motion, and low talking. She was
+curious and would have peeped, but the door was secured on the outside.
+The twilight had deepened, and for the first time she saw that a ray of
+candle-light came through the key-hole from the inner room. She opened
+the door softly, and saw a gentleman writing at the table. He was quite
+alone. He turned, and rose: a tall, slight gentleman, with a singular
+countenance that startled her.
+
+"You are Phœbe Chiffinch," said a deep, clear voice, sternly, as the
+gentleman pointed towards her with the plume end of the pen he held in
+his fingers. "I am Mr. Longcluse. It is I who have sent you two pounds
+each day by Levi. I hear you have got it all right."
+
+The girl curtseyed, and said "Yes, Sir," at the second effort, for she
+was startled. He had taken out and opened his pocket-book.
+
+"Here are _ten_ pounds," and he handed her a rustling new note by the
+corner. "I'll treat you liberally, but you must speak truth, and do
+exactly as you are ordered by Levi." She curtseyed again. There was
+something in that gentleman that frightened her awfully.
+
+"If you do so, I mean to give you a hundred pounds when this business is
+over. I have paid you as my servant, and if you deceive me I'll punish
+you; and there are two or three little things they complain of at the
+'Guy of Warwick,' and" (he swore a hard oath) "you shall hear of them if
+you do."
+
+She curtseyed, and felt, not angry, as she would if any one else had
+said it, but frightened, for Mr. Longcluse's was a name of power at
+Mortlake.
+
+"You gave Miss Arden a letter last night. You know what was in it?"
+
+"Yes, Sir."
+
+"What was it?"
+
+"An offer of marriage from you, Sir."
+
+"Yes: how do you know that?"
+
+"She told me, please, Sir."
+
+"How did she take it? Come, don't be afraid."
+
+"I'd say it pleased her well, Sir."
+
+He looked at her in much surprise, and was silent for a time.
+
+He repeated his question, and receiving a similar answer, reflected on
+it.
+
+"Yes; it _is_ the best way out of her troubles; she begins to see that,"
+he said, with a strange smile.
+
+He walked to the chimney-piece, and leaned on it; and forgot the
+presence of Phœbe. She was too much in awe to make any sign. Turning he
+saw her, suddenly.
+
+"You will receive some directions from Mr. Levi; take care you
+understand and execute them."
+
+He touched the bell, and Levi opened the door; and she and that person
+walked together to the foot of the stair, where in a low tone they
+talked.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER LXXXV.
+
+THE CRISIS.
+
+
+When Phœbe Chiffinch returned to Alice's room, it was about ten o'clock;
+a brilliant moon was shining on the old trees, and throwing their
+shadows on the misty grass. The landscape from these upper windows was
+sad and beautiful, and above the distant trees that were softened by the
+haze of night rose the silvery spire of the old church, in whose vault
+her father sleeps with a cold brain, thinking no more of mortgages and
+writs.
+
+Alice had been wondering what had detained her so long, and by the time
+she arrived had become very much alarmed.
+
+Relieved when she entered, she was again struck with fear when Phœbe
+Chiffinch had come near enough to enable her to see her face. She was
+pale, and with her eyes fixed on her, raised her finger in warning, and
+then glanced at the door which she had just closed.
+
+Her young mistress got up and approached her, also growing pale, for she
+perceived that danger was at the door.
+
+"I wish there was bolts to these doors. They've got other keys. Never
+mind; I know it all now," she whispered, as she walked softly up to the
+end of the room farthest from the door. "I said I'd stand by you, my
+lady; don't you lose heart. They're coming here in about a hour."
+
+"For God's sake, what is it?" said Alice faintly, her eyes gazing wider
+and wider, and her very lips growing white.
+
+"There's work before us, my lady, and there must be no fooling," said
+the girl, a little sternly. "Mr. Levi, please, has told me a deal, and
+all they expect from me, the villains. Are you strong enough to take
+your part in it, Miss? If not, best be quiet; best for both."
+
+"Yes; quite strong, Phœbe. Are we to leave this?"
+
+"I hope, Miss. We can but try."
+
+"There's light, Phœbe," she said, glancing with a shiver from the
+window. "It's a bright night."
+
+"I wish 'twas darker; but mind you what I say. Longcluse is to be here
+in a hour. Your brother's coming, God help you! and that little limb o'
+Satan, that black-eyed, black-nailed, dirty little Jew, Levice! They're
+not in town, they're out together near this, where a man is to meet them
+with writings. There's a licence got, Christie Vargers saw Mr. Longcluse
+showing it to your brother, Sir Richard; and I daren't tell Vargers that
+I'm for you. He'd never do nothing to vex Mr. Levice, he daren't.
+There's a parson here, a rum 'un, you may be sure. I think I know
+something about him; Vargers does. He's in the room now, only one away
+from this, next the stair head, and Vargers is put to keep the door in
+the same room. All the doors along, from one room to t'other, is open,
+from this to the stairs, except the last, which Vargers has the key of
+it; and all the doors opening from the rooms to the gallery is locked,
+so you can't get out o' this 'ere without passing through the one where
+parson is, and Mr. Vargers, please."
+
+"I'll speak to the clergyman," whispered Alice, extending her hands
+towards the far door; "God be thanked, there's one good man here, and
+he'll save me!"
+
+"La, bless you child! why that parson had his two pen'orth long ago, and
+spends half his nights in the lock-up."
+
+"I don't understand, Phœbe."
+
+"He had two years. He's bin in jail, Miss, Vargers says, as often as he
+has fingers and toes; and he's at his brandy and water as I came
+through, with his feet on the fender, and his pipe in his mouth. He's
+here to marry you, please 'm, to Mr. Longcluse, and _there's_ all the
+good _he'll_ do you; and your brother will give you away, Miss, and
+Levice and Vargers for witnesses, and me I dessay. It's every bit
+harranged, and they don't care the rinsing of a tumbler what you say or
+do; for through with it, slicks, they'll go, and say 'twas all right, in
+spite of all you can do; and who is there to make a row about it? Not
+you, after all's done."
+
+"We must get away! I'll lose my life, or I'll escape!"
+
+Phœbe looked at her in silence. I think she was measuring her strength,
+and her nerve, for the undertaking.
+
+"Well, 'm, it's time it was begun. The time is come. Here's your cloak,
+Miss, I'll tie a handkerchief over my head, if we get out; and here's
+the three keys, betwixt the bed and the mattress."
+
+After a moment's search on her knees, she produced them.
+
+"The big one and this I'll keep, and you'll manage this other, please;
+take it in your right hand--you must use it first. It opens the far door
+of the room where Vargers is, and if you get through, you'll be at the
+stair-head then. Don't you come in after me, till you see I have Vargers
+engaged another way. Go through as light as a bird flies, and take the
+key out of the door, at the other end, when you unlock it; and close it
+softly, else he'll see it, and have the house about our ears; and you
+know the big window at the drawing-room lobby; wait in the hollow of
+that window till I come. Do you understand, please, Miss?"
+
+Alice did perfectly.
+
+"Hish-sh!" said the maid, with a prolonged caution.
+
+A dead silence followed; for a minute--several minutes neither seemed to
+breathe.
+
+Phœbe whispered at length--
+
+"_Now_, Miss, are you ready?"
+
+"Yes," she whispered, and her heart beat for a moment as if it would
+suffocate her, and then was still; an icy chill stole over her, and as
+on tip-toe she followed Phœbe, she felt as if she glided without weight
+or contact, like a spirit.
+
+Through a dark room they passed, very softly, first, a little light
+under the door showed that there were candles in the next. They halted
+and listened. Phœbe opened the door and entered.
+
+Standing back in the shadow, Alice saw the room and the people in it,
+distinctly. The parson was not the sort of contraband clergyman she had
+fancied, by any means, but a thin hectic man of some four-and-thirty
+years, only looking a little dazed by brandy and water, and far gone in
+consumption. Handsome thin features, and a suit of seedy black, and a
+white choker, indicated that lost gentleman, who was crying silently as
+he smoked his pipe, I daresay a little bit tipsy, gazing into the fire,
+with his fatal brandy and water at his elbow.
+
+"Eh! Mr. Vargers, smoking after _all_ I said to you!" murmured Miss
+Phœbe severely, advancing toward her round-shouldered sweetheart, with
+her finger raised.
+
+Mr. Vargers replied pleasantly; and as this tender "chaff" flew lightly
+between the interlocutors, the parson looked still into the fire,
+hearing nothing of their play and banter, but sunk deep in the hell of
+his sorrowful memory.
+
+As Phœbe talked on, Vargers grew agreeable and tender, and in about
+three minutes after her own entrance, she saw with a thrill,
+imperfectly, just with the "corner of her eye," something pass behind
+them swiftly toward the outer door. The crisis, then, had come. For a
+moment there seemed a sudden light before her eyes, and then a dark
+mist; in another she recovered herself.
+
+Vargers stood up suddenly.
+
+"Hullo! what's gone with the door there?" said he, sternly ending their
+banter.
+
+If he had been looking on her with an eye of suspicion, he might have
+seen her colour change. But Phœbe was quick-witted and prompt, and
+saying, in hushed tones--
+
+"Well, dear, ain't I a fool, leaving the lady's door open? Look ye, now,
+Mr. Vargers, she's lying fast asleep on her bed; and that's the reason I
+took courage to come here and ask a favour. But I'd rayther you'd lock
+her door, for if she waked and missed me she'd be out here, and all the
+fat in the fire."
+
+"I dessay you're right, Miss," said he, with a more business-like
+gallantry; and as he shut the door and fumbled in his pocket for the
+key, she stole a look over her shoulder.
+
+The prisoner had got through, and the door at the other end was closed.
+
+With a secret shudder, she thanked God in her heart, while with a laugh
+she slapped Mr. Vargers' lusty shoulder, and said wheedlingly, "And now
+for the favour, Mr. Vargers: you must let me down to the kitchen for
+five minutes."
+
+A little more banter and sparring followed, which ended in Vargers
+kissing her, in spite of the usual squall and protest; and on his
+essaying to let her out, and finding the door unlocked, he swore that it
+was well she asked, as he'd 'av' got it hot and heavy for forgetting to
+lock it, when the "swells" came up. The door closed upon her: so far the
+enterprise was successful.
+
+She stood at the head of the stairs; she went down a few steps, and
+listened; then cautiously she descended. The moon shone resplendent
+through the great window at the landing below the drawing-room. It was
+that at which Uncle David had paused to listen to the minstrelsy of Mr.
+Longcluse.
+
+Here in that flood of white light stands Alice Arden, like a statue of
+horror. The girl, without saying a word, takes her by the cold hand, and
+leads her quickly down to the arch that opens on the hall.
+
+Just as they reached this point, the door of the room, at the right of
+the hall door, occupied by Mr. Boult, who did duty as porter, opens, and
+stepping out with a candle in his hand, he calls in a savage tone--
+
+"What's the row?"
+
+Phœbe pushed Alice's hand in the direction of the passage that leads to
+the housekeeper's room. For a moment the young lady stands irresolute.
+Her presence of mind returns. She noiselessly takes the hint, and enters
+the corridor; Phœbe advances to answer his challenge.
+
+"Well, Mr. Boult, and what _is_ the row, pray?" she pertly inquires,
+walking up to that gentleman, who eyes her sulkily, raising his candle,
+and displaying as he does so a big patch of red on each cheek-bone,
+indicative of the brandy, of which he smells potently.
+
+"What's the row?--_you're_ the row! What brings you down here, Miss
+Chivvige?"
+
+"My legs! There's your answer, you cross boy." She laughed wheedlingly.
+
+"Then walk you up again, and be d--d."
+
+"On! Mr. Boult."
+
+"P! Miss Phibbie."
+
+Mr. Boult was speaking thick, and plainly was in no mood to stand
+nonsense.
+
+"Now Mr. Boult, where's the good of making yourself disagreeable?"
+
+"Look at this 'ere," he replied, grimly holding a mighty watch, of some
+white metal, under her eyes--"you know your clock as well as me, Miss
+Chavvinge. The gentlemen will be in this 'ere awl in twenty minutes."
+
+"All the more need to be quick, Mr. Boult, Sir, and why will you keep me
+'ere talking?" she replies.
+
+"You'll go up them 'ere stairs, young 'oman; you'll not put a foot in
+the kitchen to-night," he says more doggedly.
+
+"Well, we'll see how it will be when they comes and I tells
+'em--'Please, gentlemen, the young lady, which you told me most
+particular to humour her in everything she might call for, wished a cup
+of tea, which I went down, having locked her door first, which here is
+the key of it,'" and she held it up for the admiration of Mr. Boult,
+"'which I consider it the most importantest key in the 'ouse; and though
+the young lady, she lay on her bed a-gasping, poor thing, for her cup of
+tea, Mr. Boult stopt me in the awl, and swore she shouldn't have a drop,
+which I could not get it, and went hup again, for he smelt all over of
+brandy, and spoke so wiolent, I daren't do as you desired.'"
+
+"I don't smell of brandy; no, I don't; do I?" he says, appealing to an
+imaginary audience. "And I don't want to stop you, if so be the case is
+so. But you'll come to this door and report yourself in five minute's
+time, or I'll tell 'em there's no good keepin' me 'ere no longer. I
+don't want no quarrellin' nor disputin', only I'll do my dooty, and I'm
+not afraid of man, woman, or child!"
+
+With which magnanimous sentiment he turned on his clumsy heel, and
+entered his apartment again.
+
+In a moment more Phœbe and Alice were at the door which admits to a
+passage leading literally to the side of the house. This door Phœbe
+softly unlocks, and when they had entered, locks again on the inside.
+They stood now on the passage leading to a side door, to which a few
+paces brought them. She opens it. The cold night air enters, and they
+step out upon the grass. She locks the door behind them, and throws the
+key among the nettles that grew in a thick grove at her right.
+
+"Hold my hand, my lady; it's near done now," she whispers almost
+fiercely; and having listened for a few seconds, and looked up to see if
+any light appeared in the windows, she ventures, with a beating heart,
+from under the deep shadow of the gables, into the bright broad
+moonlight, and with light steps together they speed across the grass,
+and reach the cover of a long grove of tall trees and underwood. All is
+silent here.
+
+Soon a distant shouting brings them to a terrible stand-still.
+Breathlessly Phœbe listens. No; it was not from the house. They resume
+their flight.
+
+Now under the ivy-laden branches of a tall old tree an owl startles them
+with its shriek.
+
+As Alice stares around her, when they stop in such momentary alarm, how
+strange the scene looks! How immense and gloomy the trees about them!
+How black their limbs stretch across the moon-lit sky! How chill and
+wild the moonlight spreads over the undulating sward! What a spectral
+and exaggerated shape all things take in her scared and over-excited
+gaze!
+
+Now they are approaching the long row of noble beeches that line the
+boundary of Mortlake. The ivy-bowered wall is near them, and the screen
+of gigantic hollies that guard the lonely postern through which Phœbe
+has shrewdly chosen to direct their escape.
+
+Thank God! they are at it. In her hand she holds the key, which shines
+in the moon-beams.
+
+Hush! what is this? Voices close to the door! Step back behind the holly
+clump, for your lives, quickly! A key grinds in the lock; the bolt works
+rustily; the door opens, and tall Mr. Longcluse enters, with every
+sinister line and shadow of his pale face marked with a death-like
+sternness, in the moonlight. Mr. Levi enters almost beside him; how
+white his big eyeballs gleam, as he steps in under the same cold light!
+Who next?
+
+Her _brother_! Oh, God! The mad impulse to throw her arms about his
+neck, and shriek her wild appeal to his manhood, courage, love, and
+stake all on that momentary frenzy!
+
+As this group halts in silence, while Sir Richard locks the door, the
+Jew directs his big dark eyes, as she thinks, right upon Phœbe
+Chiffinch, who stands in the shadow, and is therefore, she faintly
+hopes, not visible behind the screen of glittering leaves. Her eyes,
+nevertheless, meet his. He advances his head a little, with more than
+his usual prying malignity, she thinks. Her heart flutters, and sinks.
+She is on the point of stepping from her shelter and surrendering. With
+his cane he strikes at the leaves, aiming, I daresay, at a moth, for
+nothing is quite below his notice, and he likes smashing even a fly. In
+this case, having hit or missed it, he turns his fiery eyes, to the
+infinite relief of the girl, another way.
+
+The three men who have thus stept into the grounds of Mortlake don't
+utter a word as they stand there. They now recommence their walk toward
+the house.
+
+Phœbe Chiffinch, breathless, is holding Alice Arden's wrist with a firm
+grasp. As they brush the holly-leaves, in passing, the very sprays that
+touch the dresses of the scared girls are stirring. The pale group
+drifts by in silence. They have each something to meditate on. They are
+not garrulous. On they walk, like three shadows. The distance widens,
+the shapes grow fainter.
+
+"They'll soon be at the house, Ma'am, and wild work then. You'll do
+something for poor Vargers? Well, time enough! You must not lose heart
+now, my lady. You're all right, if you keep up for ten minutes longer.
+You don't feel faint-like! Good lawk, Ma'am! rouse up."
+
+"I'm better, Phœbe; I'm quite well again. Come on--come on!"
+
+Carefully, to make as little noise as possible she turned the key in the
+lock, and they found themselves in a narrow lane running by the wall,
+and under the trees of Mortlake.
+
+"Which way?"
+
+"Not toward the 'Guy of Warwick.' They'll soon be in chase of us, and
+that is the way they'll take. 'Twould never do. Come away, my lady; it
+won't be long till we meet a cab or something to fetch us where you
+please. Lean on me. I wish we were away from this wall. What way do you
+mean to go?"
+
+"To my Uncle David's house."
+
+And having exchanged these words, they pursued their way side by side,
+for a time, in silence.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER LXXXVI.
+
+PURSUIT.
+
+
+Arrived at Mortlake, when Mr. Longcluse had discovered with certainty
+the flight of Alice Arden, his first thought was that Sir Richard had
+betrayed him. There was a momentary paroxysm of insane violence, in
+which, if he could only have discovered that he was the accomplice of
+Alice's escape, I think he would have killed him.
+
+It subsided. How could Alice Arden have possessed such an influence over
+this man, who seemed to hate her? He sat down, and placed his hand to
+his broad, pale forehead, his dark eyes glaring on the floor, in what
+seemed an intensity of thought and passion. He was seized with a violent
+trembling fit. It lasted only for a few minutes. I sometimes think he
+loved that girl desperately, and would have made her an idolatrous
+husband.
+
+He walked twice or thrice up and down the great parlour in which they
+sat, and then with cold malignity said to Sir Richard--
+
+"But for you she would have married me; but for you I should have
+secured her now. _Consider_, how shall I settle with you?"
+
+"Settle how you will--do what you will. I swear (and he did swear hard
+enough, if an oath could do it, to satisfy any man) I've had _nothing_
+to do with it. I've never had a hint that she meditated leaving this
+place. I can't conceive how it was done, nor who managed it, and I know
+no more than you do where she is gone." And he clenched his vehement
+disclaimer with an imprecation.
+
+Longcluse was silent for a minute.
+
+"She has gone, I assume, to David Arden's house," he said, looking down.
+"There is no other house to receive her in town, and she does not know
+that he is away still. She knows that Lady May, and other friends, have
+gone. She's _there_. The will makes you, colourably, her guardian. You
+shall claim the custody of her person. We'll go there, and remove her."
+
+Old Sir Reginald's will, I may remark, had been made years before, when
+Richard was not twenty-two, and Alice little more than a child, and the
+baronet and his son good friends.
+
+He stalked out. At the steps was his trap, which was there to take Levi
+into town. That gentleman, I need not say, he did not treat with much
+ceremony. He mounted, and Sir Richard Arden beside him; and, leaving the
+Jew to shift for himself, he drove at a furious pace down the avenue.
+The porter placed there by Longcluse, of course, opened the gate
+instantaneously at his call. Outside stood a cab, with a trunk on it. An
+old woman at the lodge-window, knocking and clamouring, sought
+admission.
+
+"Let no one in," said Longcluse sternly to the man, who locked the iron
+gate on their passing out.
+
+"Hallo! What brings _her_ here? That's the old housekeeper!" said
+Longcluse, pulling up suddenly.
+
+It was quite true. Her growing uneasiness about Alice had recalled the
+old woman from the North. Martha Tansey, who had heard the clang of the
+gate and the sound of wheels and hoofs, turned about and came to the
+side of the tax-cart, over which Longcluse was leaning. In the brilliant
+moonlight, on the white road, the branches cast a network of black
+shadow. A patch of light fell clear on the side of the trap, and on
+Longcluse's ungloved hand as he leaned on it.
+
+"Here am I, Martha Tansey, has lived fifty year wi' the family, and what
+for am I shut out of Mortlake now?" she demanded, with stern audacity.
+
+A sudden change, however, came over her countenance, which contracted in
+horror, and her old eyes opened wide and white as she gazed on the back
+of Longcluse's hand, on which was a peculiar star-shaped scar. She drew
+back with a low sound, like the growl of a wicked old cat; it rose
+gradually to such a yell and a cry to God as made Richard's blood run
+cold, and lifting her hand toward her temple, waveringly, the old woman
+staggered back, and fell in a faint on the road.
+
+Longcluse jumped down and hammered at the window. "Hallo!" he cried to
+the man, "send one of your people with this old woman; she's ill. Let
+her go in that cab to Sir Richard Arden's house in town; you know it."
+And he cried to the cabman, "Lift her in, will you?"
+
+And having done his devoir thus by the old woman, he springs again into
+his tax-cart, snatches the reins from Sir Richard, and drives on at a
+savage pace for town.
+
+Longcluse threw the reins to Sir Richard when they reached David Arden's
+house, and himself thundered at the door.
+
+They had searched Mortlake House for Alice, and that vain quest had not
+wasted more than half-an-hour. He rightly conjectured that, if Alice had
+fled to David Arden's house, some of the servants who received her must
+be still on the alert. The door is opened promptly by an elderly servant
+woman.
+
+"Sir Richard Arden is at the door, and he wants to know whether his
+sister, Miss Arden, has arrived here from Mortlake."
+
+"Yes, Sir; she's up-stairs; but not by no means well, Sir."
+
+Longcluse stepped in, to secure a footing, and beckoning excitedly to
+Sir Richard, called, "Come in; all right. Don't mind the horse; it will
+take its chance." He walked impatiently to the foot of the stairs, and
+turned again toward the street door.
+
+At this moment, and before Sir Richard had time to come in, there come
+swarming out of David Arden's study, most unexpectedly, nearly a dozen
+men, more than half of whom are in the garb of gentlemen, and some three
+of them police. Uncle David himself, in deep conversation with two
+gentlemen, one of whom is placing in his breast-pocket a paper which he
+has just folded, leads the way into the hall.
+
+As they there stand for a minute under the lamp, Mr. Longcluse, gazing
+at him sternly from the stair, caught his eye. Old David Arden stepped
+back a little, growing pale, with a sudden frown.
+
+"Oh! Mr. Arden?" says Longcluse, advancing as if he had come in search
+of him.
+
+"That's enough, Sir," cries Mr. Arden, extending his hand peremptorily
+toward him; and he adds, with a glance at the constables, "_There's_ the
+man. That is Walter Longcluse."
+
+Longcluse glances over his shoulder, and then grimly at the group before
+him, and gathered himself as if for a struggle; the next moment he walks
+forward frankly, and asks, "What is the meaning of all this?"
+
+"A warrant, Sir," answers the foremost policeman, clutching him by the
+collar.
+
+"No use, Sir, making a row," expostulates the next, also catching him by
+the collar and arm.
+
+"Mr. Arden, can you explain this?" says Mr. Longcluse coolly.
+
+"You may as well give in quiet," says the third policeman, producing the
+warrant. "A warrant for murder. Walter Longcluse, _alias_ Yelland Mace,
+I arrest you in the Queen's name."
+
+"There's a magistrate here? Oh! yes, I see. How d'ye do, Mr. Harman? My
+name is Longcluse, as you know. The name Mays, or any other _alias_,
+you'll not insult me by applying to me, if you please. Of course this is
+obvious and utter trumpery. Are there informations, or what the devil is
+it?"
+
+"They have just been sworn before me, Sir," answered the magistrate, who
+was a little man, with a wave of his hand, and his head high.
+
+"Well, really! don't you _see_ the absurdity? Upon my soul! It _is_
+really _too_ ridiculous! You won't inconvenience me, of course,
+unnecessarily. My own recognisance, I suppose, will do?"
+
+"Can't entertain your application; quite out of the question," said his
+worship, with his hands in his pockets, rising slightly on his toes, and
+descending on his heels, as he delivered this sentence with a stoical
+shake of his head.
+
+"You'll send for my attorney, of course? I'm not to be humbugged, you
+know."
+
+"I must tell you, Mr. Longcluse, I can't listen to such language,"
+observes Mr. Harman sublimely.
+
+"If you have informations, they are the dreams of a madman. I don't
+blame any one here. I say, policeman, you need not hold me quite so
+hard. I only say, joke or earnest, I can't make head or tail of it; and
+there's not a man in London who won't be shocked to hear how I've been
+treated. Once more, Mr. Harman, I tender bail, any amount. It's too
+ridiculous. You can't really have a difficulty."
+
+"The informations are very strong, Sir, and the offence, you know as
+well as I do, Mr. Longcluse, is not bailable."
+
+Mr. Longcluse shrugged, and laughed gently.
+
+"I may have a cab or something? My trap's at the door. It's not solemn
+enough, eh, Mr. Harman? Will you tell one of your fellows to pick up a
+cab? Perhaps, Mr. Arden, you'll allow me a chair to sit down upon?"
+
+"You can sit in the study, if you please," says David Arden.
+
+And Longcluse enters the room with the police about him, while the
+servant goes to look for a cab. Sir Richard Arden, you may be sure, was
+not there. He saw that something was wrong, and he had got away to his
+own house. On arriving there, he sent to make inquiry, cautiously, at
+his uncle's, and thus learned the truth.
+
+Standing at the window, he saw his messenger return, let him in himself,
+and then considered, as well as a man in so critical and terrifying a
+situation can, the wisest course for him to adopt. The simple one of
+flight he ultimately resolved on. He knew that Longcluse had still two
+executions against him, on which, at any moment, he might arrest him. He
+knew that he might launch at him, at any moment, the thunderbolt which
+would blast him. He must wait, however, until the morning had confirmed
+the news; that certain, he dared not act.
+
+With a cold and fearless bearing, Longcluse had by this time entered the
+dreadful door of a prison. His attorney was with him nearly the entire
+night.
+
+David Arden, as he promised, had dictated to him in outline the awful
+case he had massed against his client.
+
+"I don't want any man taken by surprise or at disadvantage; I simply
+wish for truth," said he.
+
+A copy of the written statement of Paul Davies, whatever it was worth,
+duly witnessed, was already in his hands; the sworn depositions of the
+same person, made in his last illness, were also there. There were also
+the sworn depositions of Vanboeren, who _had_, after all, recovered
+speech and recollection; and a deposition, besides, very unexpected, of
+old Martha Tansey, who swore distinctly to the scar, a very peculiar
+mark indeed, on the back of his left hand. This the old woman had
+recognised with horror, at a moment so similar, as the scar, long
+forgotten, which she had for a terrible moment seen on the hand of
+Yelland Mace, as he clutched the rail of the gig while engaged in the
+murder.
+
+The plaster masks, which figured in the affidavits of Vanboeren, and of
+David Arden, were re-cast from the moulds, and made an effectual
+identification, corroborated, in a measure, by Mr. Plumes' silhouette of
+Yelland Mace.
+
+Other surviving witnesses had also turned up, who had deposed when the
+murder of Harry Arden was a recent event. The whole case was, in the
+eyes of the attorney, a very awful one. Mr. Longcluse's counsel was
+called up, like a physician whose patient is _in extremis_, at dead of
+night, and had a talk with the attorney, and kept his notes to ponder
+over.
+
+As early as prison rules would permit, he was with Mr. Longcluse, where
+the attorney awaited him.
+
+Mr. Blinkinsop looked very gloomy.
+
+"Do you despair?" asked Mr. Longcluse sharply, after a long
+disquisition.
+
+"Let me ask you one question, Mr. Longcluse. You have, before I ask it,
+I assume, implicit confidence in us; am I right?"
+
+"Certainly--implicit."
+
+"If you are innocent, we might venture on a line of defence which may
+possibly break down the case for the Crown. If you are guilty, that line
+would be fatal." He hesitated, and looked at Mr. Longcluse.
+
+"I know such a question has been asked in like circumstances, and I have
+no hesitation in telling you that I am _not_ innocent. Assume my guilt."
+
+The attorney, who had been drumming a little tattoo on the table,
+watches Longcluse earnestly as he speaks, suspending his tune, now
+lowers his eyes to the table, and resumed his drumming slowly with a
+very dismal countenance. He had been talking over the chances with this
+eminent counsel, Mr. Blinkinsop, Q.C., and he knew what his opinion
+would now be.
+
+"One effect of a judgment in this case is forfeiture?" inquired Mr.
+Longcluse.
+
+"Yes," answered counsel.
+
+"Everything goes to the Crown, eh?"
+
+"Yes; clearly."
+
+"Well, I have neither wife nor children. I need not care; but suppose I
+make my will now; that's a good will, ain't it, between this and
+judgment, if things should go wrong?"
+
+"Certainly," said Mr. Blinkinsop. "No judgment no forfeiture."
+
+"And now, Doctor, don't be afraid; tell me truly, shall I _do_?" said
+Mr. Longcluse, leaning back, and looking darkly and steadily in his
+face.
+
+"It is a nasty case."
+
+"Don't be afraid, I say. I should like to know, are the chances two to
+one against me?"
+
+"I'm afraid they are."
+
+"Ten to one? Pray say what you think."
+
+"Well, I think so."
+
+Mr. Longcluse grew paler. They were all three silent. After about a
+minute, he said, in a very low tone,--
+
+"You don't think I have a chance? Don't mislead me."
+
+"It is very gloomy."
+
+Mr. Longcluse pressed his hand to his mouth. There was a silence.
+Perhaps he wished to hide some nervous movement there. He stood up,
+walked about a little, and then stood by Mr. Blinkinsop's chair, with
+his fingers on the back of it.
+
+"We must make a great fight of this," said Mr. Longcluse suddenly.
+"We'll fight it hard; we must win it. We _shall_ win it, by----"
+
+And after a short pause, he added gently,--
+
+"That will do. I think I'll rest now; more, perhaps, another time.
+Good-bye."
+
+As they left the room, he signed to the attorney to stay.
+
+"I have something for you--a word or two."
+
+The attorney turned back, and they remained closeted for a time.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER LXXXVII.
+
+CONCLUSION.
+
+
+Sir Richard Arden had learned how matters were with Mr. Longcluse. He
+hesitated. Flight might provoke action of the kind for which there
+seemed no longer a motive.
+
+In an agony of dubitation, as the day wore on, he was interrupted. Mr.
+Rooke, Mr. Longcluse's attorney, had called. There was no good in
+shirking a meeting. He was shown in.
+
+"This is for you, Sir Richard," said Mr. Rooke, presenting a large
+letter. "Mr. Longcluse wrote it about three hours ago, and requested me
+to place it in your own hand, as I now do."
+
+"It is not any _legal_ paper----" began Sir Richard.
+
+"I haven't an idea," answered he. "He gave it to me thus. I had some
+things to do for him afterwards, and a call to make, at his desire, at
+Mr. David Arden's. When I got home I was sent for again. I suppose you
+heard the news?"
+
+"No; what is it?"
+
+"Oh, dear, really! They have heard it some time at Mr. Arden's. You
+didn't hear about Mr. Longcluse?"
+
+"No, nothing, excepting what we all know--his arrest."
+
+The attorney's countenance darkened, and he said, dropping his voice as
+low as he would have given a message in church--
+
+"Oh, poor gentleman! he died to-day. Some kind of fit, I believe; he's
+gone!"
+
+Then Mr. Rooke went into particulars, so far as he knew them, and
+mentioned that the coroner's inquest would be held that afternoon; and
+so he departed.
+
+Unmixed satisfaction accompanied the hearing of this news in Sir
+Richard's mind. But with reflection came the terrifying question, "Has
+Levi got hold of that instrument of torture and ruin--the forged
+signature?"
+
+In this new horror he saw the envelope which Rooke had handed to him,
+upon the table. He opened it, and saw the forged deed. Written across
+it, in Longcluse's hand, were the words--
+
+    "Paid by W. Longcluse before due.
+
+    "W. LONGCLUSE."
+
+That day's date was added.
+
+So the evidence of his guilt was no longer in the hands of a stranger,
+and Sir Richard Arden was saved.
+
+David Arden had already received under like circumstances, and by the
+same hand, two papers of immense importance. The first written in
+Rooke's hand and duly witnessed, was a very short will, signed by the
+testator, Walter Longcluse, and leaving his enormous wealth absolutely
+to David Arden. The second was a letter which attached a trust to this
+bequest. The letter said--
+
+    "I am the son of Edwin Raikes, your cousin. He had cast me off for
+    my vices, when I committed the crime, not intended to have amounted
+    to murder. It was Harry Arden's determined resistance and my danger
+    that cost him his life. I did kill Lebas. I could not help it. He
+    was a fool, and might have ruined me; and that villain, Vanboeren,
+    has spoken truth for once.
+
+    "I meant to set up the Arden family in my person. I should have
+    taken the name. My father relented on his death-bed, and left me his
+    money. I went to New York, and received it. I made a new start in
+    life. On the Bourse in Paris, and in Vienna, I made a fortune by
+    speculation; I improved it in London. You may take it all by my
+    will. Do with half the interest as you please, during your lifetime.
+    The other half pay to Miss Alice Arden, and the entire capital you
+    are to secure to her on your death.
+
+    "I had taken assignments of all the mortgages affecting the Arden
+    estates. They must go to Miss Arden, and be secured unalienably to
+    her.
+
+    "My life has been arduous and direful. That miserable crime hung
+    over me, and its dangers impeded me at every turn.
+
+    "You have played your game well, but with all the odds of the
+    position in your favour. I am tired, beaten. The match is over, and
+    you may rise now and say Checkmate.
+
+    "WALTER LONGCLUSE."
+
+That Longcluse had committed suicide, of course I can have no doubt. It
+must have been effected by some unusually subtle poison. The post-mortem
+examination failed to discover its presence. But there was found in his
+desk a curious paper, in French, published about five months before,
+upon certain vegetable poisons, whose presence in the system no chemical
+test detects, and no external trace records. This paper was noted here
+and there on the margin, and had been obviously carefully read. Any of
+these tinctures he could without much trouble have procured from Paris.
+But no distinct light was ever thrown upon this inquiry.
+
+In a small and lonely house, tenanted by Longcluse, in the then less
+crowded region of Richmond, were found proofs, no longer needed, of
+Longcluse's identity, both with the horseman who had met Paul Davies on
+Hampstead Heath, and the person who crossed the Channel from Southampton
+with David Arden, and afterwards met him in the streets of Paris, as we
+have seen. There he had been watching his movements, and traced him,
+with dreadful suspicion, to the house of Vanboeren. The turn of a die
+had determined the fate of David Arden that night. Longcluse had
+afterwards watched and seized an opportunity of entering Vanboeren's
+house. He knew that the baron expected the return of his messenger, rang
+the bell, and was admitted. The old servant had gone to her bed, and was
+far away in that vast house.
+
+Longcluse would have stabbed him, but the baron recognised him, and
+sprang back with a yell. Instantly Longcluse had used his revolver; but
+before he could make assurance doubly sure, his quick ear detected a
+step outside. He then made his exit through a window into a deserted
+lane at the side of the house, and had not lost a moment in commencing
+his flight for London.
+
+With respect to the murder of Lebas, the letter of Longcluse pretty
+nearly explains it. That unlucky Frenchman had attended him through his
+recovery under the hands of Vanboeren; and Longcluse feared to trust, as
+it now might turn out, his life, in his giddy keeping. Of course, Lebas
+had no idea of the nature of his crime, or that in England was the scene
+of its perpetration. Longcluse had made up his mind promptly on the
+night of the billiard-match played in the Saloon Tavern. When every eye
+was fixed upon the balls, he and Lebas met, as they had ultimately
+agreed, in the smoking-room. A momentary meeting it was to have been.
+The dagger which he placed in his keeping, Longcluse plunged into his
+heart. In the stream of blood that instantaneously flowed from the wound
+Longcluse stepped, and made one distinct impression of his boot-sole on
+the boards. A tracing of this Paul Davies had made, and had got the
+signatures of two or three respectable Londoners before the room filled,
+attesting its accuracy, he affecting, while he did so, to be a member of
+the detective police, from which body, for a piece of _over_-cleverness,
+he had been only a few weeks before dismissed. Having made his tracing,
+he obscured the blood-mark on the floor.
+
+The opportunity of distinguishing himself at his old craft, to the
+prejudice of the force, whom he would have liked to mortify, while
+earning, perhaps, his own restoration, was his first object. The
+delicacy of the shape of the boot struck him next. He then remembered
+having seen Longcluse--and his was the only eye that observed him--pass
+swiftly from the passage leading to the smoking-room at the beginning of
+the game. His mind had now matter to work upon; and hence his visit to
+Bolton Street to secure possession of the boot, which he did by an
+audacious _ruse_.
+
+His subsequent interview with Mr. Longcluse, in presence of David Arden,
+was simply a concerted piece of acting, on which Longcluse, when he had
+made his terms with Davies, insisted, as a security against the
+re-opening of the extortion.
+
+Nothing will induce Alice to accept one farthing of Longcluse's
+magnificent legacy. Secretly Uncle David is resolved to make it up to
+her from his own wealth, which is very great.
+
+Richard Arden's story is not known to any living person but the Jew
+Levi, and vaguely to his sister, in whose mind it remains as something
+horrible, but never approached.
+
+Levi keeps the secret for reasons more cogent than charitable. First he
+kept it to himself as a future instrument of profit. But on his
+insinuating something that promised such relations to Sir Richard, the
+young gentleman met it with so bold a front, with fury so unaffected,
+and with threats so alarming, founded upon a trifling matter of which
+the Jew had never suspected his knowledge, that Mr. Levi has not
+ventured either to "utilise" his knowledge, in a profitable way, or
+afterwards to circulate the story for the solace of his malice. They
+seem, in Mr. Rooke's phrase, to have turned their backs on one another;
+and as some years have passed, and lapse of time does not improve the
+case of a person in Mr. Levi's position, we may safely assume that he
+will never dare to circulate any definite stories to Sir Richard's
+prejudice. A sufficient motive, indeed, for doing so exists no longer,
+for Sir Richard, who had lived an unsettled life travelling on the
+Continent, and still playing at foreign tables when he could afford it,
+died suddenly at Florence in the autumn of '69.
+
+Vivian Darnley has been in "the House," now, nearly four years. Uncle
+David is very proud of him; and more impartial people think that he
+will, at last, take an honourable place in that assembly. His last
+speech has been spoken of everywhere with applause. David Arden's
+immensely increased wealth enables him to entertain very magnificent
+plans for this young man. He intends that he shall take the name of
+Arden, and earn the transmission of the title, or the distinction of a
+greater one.
+
+A year ago Vivian Darnley married Alice Arden, and no two people can be
+happier.
+
+Lady May, although her girlish ways have not forsaken her, has no
+present thoughts of making any man happy. She had a great cry all to
+herself when Sir Richard died, and she now persuades herself that he
+never meant one word he said of her, and that if the truth were known,
+although after that day she never spoke to him more, he had never really
+cared for more than one woman on earth. It was all spite of that odious
+Lady Wynderbroke!
+
+Alice has never seen Mortlake since the night of her flight from its
+walls.
+
+The two old servants, Crozier and Martha Tansey, whose acquaintance we
+made in that suburban seat of the Ardens, are both, I am glad to say,
+living still, and extremely comfortable.
+
+Phœbe Chiffinch, I am glad to add, was jilted by her uninteresting
+lover, who little knew what a fortune he was slighting. His desertion
+does not seem to have broken her heart, or at all affected her spirits.
+The gratitude of Alice Arden has established her in the prosperous
+little Yorkshire town, the steep roof, chimneys, and church tower of
+which are visible, among the trees, from the windows of Arden Court. She
+is the energetic and popular proprietress of the "Cat and Fiddle," to
+which thriving inn, at a nominal rent, a valuable farm is attached. A
+fortune of two thousand pounds from the same grateful friend awaits her
+marriage, which can't be far off, with the handsome son of rich Farmer
+Shackleton.
+
+THE END.
+
+
+
+
+  [ Transcriber's Note:
+
+    The following is a list of corrections made to the original.
+    The first line is the original line, the second the corrected one.
+
+    ALL IN DARK
+    ALL IN THE DARK
+
+  good humouredly.
+  good-humouredly.
+
+  Mr. Longcluse, the millionarie, had, of course, many poor enviers. Had
+  Mr. Longcluse, the millionaire, had, of course, many poor enviers. Had
+
+  sent me down for Charles; and the boy will be back. Sir, in two or three
+  sent me down for Charles; and the boy will be back, Sir, in two or three
+
+  "Oh oh! very good. And now, Sir," he said, in rising fury, turning upon
+  "Oh, oh! very good. And now, Sir," he said, in rising fury, turning upon
+
+  "You know him, Mr Darnley?" inquired Lady May.
+  "You know him, Mr. Darnley?" inquired Lady May.
+
+  "Why should it?" laughed Vivian Darnley, partly to cover perhaps, a
+  "Why should it?" laughed Vivian Darnley, partly to cover, perhaps, a
+
+  pretended to think her great deal more frightened than she really can
+  pretended to think her a great deal more frightened than she really can
+
+  you, and he ll arrange everything; and how soon do you wish to go?"
+  you, and he'll arrange everything; and how soon do you wish to go?"
+
+  likely to marry His estate was in the nattiest order. He had always
+  likely to marry. His estate was in the nattiest order. He had always
+
+  don't know what to make of it exactly; but it pleases her, and she
+  doesn't know what to make of it exactly; but it pleases her, and she
+
+  give an exact description of the man who had been dogging the decased;
+  give an exact description of the man who had been dogging the deceased;
+
+  for more than six years. And why? I needn't tell yon. You know the
+  for more than six years. And why? I needn't tell you. You know the
+
+  him for ever?"
+  him for ever!"
+
+  something. What has frightened you!"
+  something. What has frightened you?"
+
+  as he may suppose, and dated, and signed by espectable people; and I
+  as he may suppose, and dated, and signed by respectable people; and I
+
+  must try to persuade Lady May to get up that party to the Derby,"
+  must try to persuade Lady May to get up that party to the Derby."
+
+  "I believe," said Mr. Longcluse, with a laugh. "I am growing
+  "I believe," said Mr. Longcluse, with a laugh, "I am growing
+
+  "Yes, a little, perhaps. Don't you."
+  "Yes, a little, perhaps. Don't you?"
+
+  now, Master David, and not much for this world, I'm thinking'," she
+  now, Master David, and not much for this world, I'm thinking," she
+
+  this, ye have just a chilly flush o' the sun' settin', and, before it's
+  this, ye have just a chilly flush o' the sun settin', and, before it's
+
+  unacountable though distant relation to the vague suspicions that had
+  unaccountable though distant relation to the vague suspicions that had
+
+  "Do you know that gentleman's name!"
+  "Do you know that gentleman's name?"
+
+  you see, as to the indentity of the person you suspect; but some person
+  you see, as to the identity of the person you suspect; but some person
+
+  a swaggering' cove, and a yard o' red beard over his waistcoat, and
+  a swaggerin' cove, and a yard o' red beard over his waistcoat, and
+
+  very foolishly, and we _must_ drop him And now, darling, good-bye."
+  very foolishly, and we _must_ drop him. And now, darling, good-bye."
+
+  his homage, his tone of melancholy deference ever since she had know
+  his homage, his tone of melancholy deference ever since she had known
+
+  He heard the piano faintly, and, he thought, Alice's voice lso; and
+  He heard the piano faintly, and, he thought, Alice's voice also; and
+
+  certainly he saw Vivian Darnley in the drawing-room indow, as his cab
+  certainly he saw Vivian Darnley in the drawing-room window, as his cab
+
+  others a note from Lady Mary Penrose, reminding him of her little
+  others a note from Lady May Penrose, reminding him of her little
+
+  unauthenticated, unpleasant. There were whispered with sneers by Mr.
+  unauthenticated, unpleasant. These were whispered with sneers by Mr.
+
+  have thought that, the muscian having departed, their stay in that room
+  have thought that, the musician having departed, their stay in that room
+
+  So over the short grass that handsome girl walked, with Mr Longcluse at
+  So over the short grass that handsome girl walked, with Mr. Longcluse at
+
+  "Yes, she was here; she came with Lady Tramways. They went away about
+  "Yes, she was here; she came with Lady Tramway. They went away about
+
+  "Now, Sir, you'll be so good as to to observe that you have taken upon
+  "Now, Sir, you'll be so good as to observe that you have taken upon
+
+  trace a name or two on the pages that are passing That sunset, that
+  trace a name or two on the pages that are passing. That sunset, that
+
+  saw it, and the Cæsars saw it, and the Pharoahs saw it, and we see it
+  saw it, and the Cæsars saw it, and the Pharaohs saw it, and we see it
+
+  with coarse, black hair, that might not unsuitable stuff a chair. His
+  with coarse, black hair, that might not unsuitably stuff a chair. His
+
+  But not pays his bets! And how could he? Ten shillings in the pound? Not
+  But not pay his bets! And how could he? Ten shillings in the pound? Not
+
+  the rest are rifling, but they were the most impertinent, and I was so
+  the rest are trifling, but they were the most impertinent, and I was so
+
+  eloquence. There was in Cicero's face, he though, something satirical
+  eloquence. There was in Cicero's face, he thought, something satirical
+
+  again in danger. I I am not going to help you." His blue eyes looked cold
+  again in danger. I am not going to help you." His blue eyes looked cold
+
+      refugees.
+      refugees."
+
+  circumstances to which I have but alluded, I hope to be in town
+  circumstances to which I have but alluded. I hope to be in town
+
+  hall-door Don't mind knocking, ring the bell," he said to the driver.
+  hall-door. Don't mind knocking, ring the bell," he said to the driver.
+
+  and distinctness, and in accents that seemed, somehow to ring through
+  and distinctness, and in accents that seemed, somehow, to ring through
+
+  table, at the other of which he had arrested his monotonous shuffle
+  table, at the other end of which he had arrested his monotonous shuffle
+
+  So spoke Tansey, into whose talk, in moments of excitement returned
+  So spoke Tansey, into whose talk, in moments of excitement, returned
+
+  "No, dear, never mind him--he's well enough." David, Arden peeped at his
+  "No, dear, never mind him--he's well enough." David Arden peeped at his
+
+  sheventeen, ash I m a shinner!"
+  sheventeen, ash I'm a shinner!"
+
+  In a very small room, where burned a single jet of gas, Mr. Mr. Arden
+  In a very small room, where burned a single jet of gas, Mr. Arden
+
+  CHAPTER XLVIII
+  CHAPTER XLVIII.
+
+  suavity of manner, and in the perennial mourning that belongs to a
+  suavity of manner, and in the perennial mourning that belongs to
+
+  which would corroborate his first vague suspicions?"
+  which would corroborate his first vague suspicions?
+
+  The oak-parlour was a fine old room, and into the panels were let four
+  The oak-parlour was a fine old room, and into the panels were set four
+
+  Italian greyhound by a blue ribbon, and the gentlemen stood booted for
+  Italian greyhound by a blue ribbon, and the gentleman stood booted for
+
+  he'll stay still your Uncle David comes, for he told him he had something
+  he'll stay till your Uncle David comes, for he told him he had something
+
+  under the little chuch, whose steeple cast its shadow every sunny
+  under the little church, whose steeple cast its shadow every sunny
+
+  from Lady May Penrose a note, in the folowing terms:--
+  from Lady May Penrose a note, in the following terms:--
+
+  least picturesque and and most probable way. I should like to know the
+  least picturesque and most probable way. I should like to know the
+
+  that gradually overcome her more and more till she almost felt faint,
+  that gradually overcame her more and more till she almost felt faint,
+
+  connected with Alice? Slowly it passes along. Through one opening made
+  connected with Alice! Slowly it passes along. Through one opening made
+
+  to ensure a system of check, such as would made it next to impossible
+  to ensure a system of check, such as would make it next to impossible
+
+  Vanboeren
+  Vanboeren.
+
+  in London, was, I believe in your employment?"
+  in London, was, I believe, in your employment?"
+
+  "I am in London, Sir, ubon my business, and no one else's. I I am sinking
+  "I am in London, Sir, ubon my business, and no one else's. I am sinking
+
+  battered felt hat, in which a a costermonger would scarcely have gone
+  battered felt hat, in which a costermonger would scarcely have gone
+
+  end contracting some some incurable insanity; and that insanity of the
+  end contracting some incurable insanity; and that insanity of the
+
+  who is for a moment doubtful whther its terrors or its fury may
+  who is for a moment doubtful whether its terrors or its fury may
+
+  gallery exsited. How were they taken? Photographs are the colourless
+  gallery existed. How were they taken? Photographs are the colourless
+
+  There is something in that pale face and spectra smile that fascinates
+  There is something in that pale face and spectral smile that fascinates
+
+  Boulogne, or where he likes--I'll stand t--and I don't think he'll need
+  Boulogne, or where he likes--I'll stand it--and I don't think he'll need
+
+  "Yes, as were driving into town to-day, Uncle David told me so
+  "Yes, as we were driving into town to-day, Uncle David told me so
+
+  would marry me at all, Isn't it better to say, 'My Angelina,' or
+  would marry me at all. Isn't it better to say, 'My Angelina,' or
+
+  message for his sister with old Crozier ordered his servant and trap to
+  message for his sister with old Crozier, ordered his servant and trap to
+
+  harmlesh."
+  harmlesh.'"
+
+  heavy skip upon the flags, where she executed an involuutary frisk that
+  heavy skip upon the flags, where she executed an involuntary frisk that
+
+  staring at the smiling face of the young lady; you can't be serious!"
+  staring at the smiling face of the young lady; "you can't be serious!"
+
+  was no more), she had herished for him was gone, and a great disgust
+  was no more), she had cherished for him was gone, and a great disgust
+
+  was there nstead.
+  was there instead.
+
+  almos breathlessly,--
+  almost breathlessly,--
+
+  see the cold glimmer of the windows that reflected the gray horizon.
+  see the cold glimmer of the windows that reflected the grey horizon.
+
+  the gate he saw the distant lights, and heard through the the dim air the
+  the gate he saw the distant lights, and heard through the dim air the
+
+  dragging Levi by the arm all this time towards the candles: "do now,
+  dragging Levi by the arm all this time towards the candles): "do now,
+
+  heaven, before I have time to think?"
+  heaven, before I have time to think!"
+
+  "That'sh the note you forgot in my offish yeshterday, withhish name
+  "That'sh the note you forgot in my offish yeshterday, with hish name
+
+  enter. How your friends will laugh?"
+  enter. How your friends will laugh!"
+
+  "La! who'd a thought o' seeing you, Master Richard! why, ou told Miss
+  "La! who'd a thought o' seeing you, Master Richard! why, you told Miss
+
+  Alice you'd not be here till to-morrow!" she says ettishly, holding the
+  Alice you'd not be here till to-morrow!" she says pettishly, holding the
+
+  afraid of him! Dick, you look ill and unhappy: what's the matter!"
+  afraid of him! Dick, you look ill and unhappy: what's the matter?"
+
+  family there a happetite for another up here Azh I 'ope to be shaved, I
+  family there a happetite for another up here. Azh I 'ope to be shaved, I
+
+  locked. and the keysh with him, before dark, thish evening, except only
+  locked, and the keysh with him, before dark, thish evening, except only
+
+  Sir Richard leaned back in the cab as he drove into town, He had as yet
+  Sir Richard leaned back in the cab as he drove into town. He had as yet
+
+  no plan formed. It was a more complicated exploit that he was at the
+  no plan formed. It was a more complicated exploit than he was at the
+
+  spirited away like the rest Sir Richard had told her that his sister
+  spirited away like the rest. Sir Richard had told her that his sister
+
+  Richard lounges, expecting the arrival of David Arden almost momentarily.
+  Richard lounge, expecting the arrival of David Arden almost momentarily.
+
+  six distinct master-pieces of Watteau's. I have know that for ten
+  six distinct master-pieces of Watteau's. I have known that for ten
+
+  but slightly. You wish. perhaps to learn particulars about those
+  but slightly. You wish, perhaps, to learn particulars about those
+
+  "But you talk of bringing me face to face withthem; how soon?"
+  "But you talk of bringing me face to face with them; how soon?"
+
+  "No, in the the solid. Here is the key of the catacombs." And he took a
+  "No, in the solid. Here is the key of the catacombs." And he took a
+
+  "Bah! what a wise man Then I may show you whom I please, and you know
+  "Bah! what a wise man. Then I may show you whom I please, and you know
+
+  "And _is_ more. Why, count the words, one, two, four six, eight. There
+  "And _is_ more. Why, count the words, one, two, four, six, eight. There
+
+  nothing. Come, come. Monsieur! kindly take the candle."
+  nothing. Come, come, Monsieur! kindly take the candle."
+
+  which his work has strewn the floor
+  which his work has strewn the floor.
+
+  step, all is up with that, You see--you understand. Bah! you are no
+  step, all is up with that. You see--you understand. Bah! you are no
+
+  fool; it is plain. all I sacrifice."
+  fool; it is plain, all I sacrifice."
+
+  fared with him, if he had, I can't tell."
+  fared with him, if he had, I can't tell.
+
+  CHATPER LXXXIV.
+  CHAPTER LXXXIV.
+
+  mind; I know it all know," she whispered, as she walked softly up to the
+  mind; I know it all now," she whispered, as she walked softly up to the
+
+  time, or I'll tell 'em there's no good keepin' me 'ere no longer I
+  time, or I'll tell 'em there's no good keepin' me 'ere no longer. I
+
+  to do it. I've never had a hint that she meditated leaving this
+  to do with it. I've never had a hint that she meditated leaving this
+
+  upon the table. He opened it, and saw the orged deed. Written across
+  upon the table. He opened it, and saw the forged deed. Written across
+
+  desk a curious paper, in French. published about five months before,
+  desk a curious paper, in French, published about five months before,
+
+  nearly explains it. That unlucky Frenchman had attended him though his
+  nearly explains it. That unlucky Frenchman had attended him through his
+
+  ]
+
+
+
+
+
+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Checkmate, by Joseph Sheridan Le Fanu
+
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diff --git a/38460-0.zip b/38460-0.zip
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@@ -0,0 +1,19389 @@
+The Project Gutenberg EBook of Checkmate, by Joseph Sheridan Le Fanu
+
+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: Checkmate
+
+Author: Joseph Sheridan Le Fanu
+
+Release Date: January 1, 2012 [EBook #38460]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK CHECKMATE ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Suzanne Shell, Jana Srna and the Online
+Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This
+file was produced from images generously made available
+by The Internet Archive/Canadian Libraries)
+
+
+
+
+
+
+  [ Transcriber's Notes:
+
+    Every effort has been made to replicate this text as faithfully
+    as possible, including inconsistencies in spelling and hyphenation.
+    Some corrections of spelling and punctuation have been made. They
+    are listed at the end of the text.
+
+    Italic text has been marked with _underscores_.
+  ]
+
+
+
+
+CHECKMATE
+
+
+
+
+BY THE SAME AUTHOR
+
+
+  GUY DEVERELL
+  ALL IN THE DARK
+  THE WYVERN MYSTERY
+  THE COCK AND ANCHOR
+  WYLDER'S HAND
+  THE WATCHER
+  CHECKMATE
+  ROSE AND THE KEY
+  TENANTS OF MALLORY
+  WILLING TO DIE
+  GOLDEN FRIARS
+  THE EVIL GUEST
+
+
+
+
+  Checkmate
+
+  BY
+  J. S. LE FANU
+
+  Downey & Co.
+  12 York St.
+  Covent Garden.
+
+
+
+
+CONTENTS.
+
+
+   CHAPTER                                                   PAGE
+
+        I. MORTLAKE HALL,                                       1
+
+       II. MARTHA TANSEY,                                       7
+
+      III. MR. LONGCLUSE OPENS HIS HEART,                      13
+
+       IV. MONSIEUR LEBAS,                                     17
+
+        V. A CATASTROPHE,                                      22
+
+       VI. TO BED,                                             26
+
+      VII. FAST FRIENDS,                                       31
+
+     VIII. CONCERNING A BOOT,                                  38
+
+       IX. THE MAN WITHOUT A NAME,                             43
+
+        X. THE ROYAL OAK,                                      48
+
+       XI. THE TELEGRAM ARRIVES,                               55
+
+      XII. SIR REGINALD ARDEN,                                 62
+
+     XIII. ON THE ROAD,                                        68
+
+      XIV. MR. LONGCLUSE'S BOOT FINDS A TEMPORARY ASYLUM,      72
+
+       XV. FATHER AND SON,                                     79
+
+      XVI. A MIDNIGHT MEETING,                                 84
+
+     XVII. MR. LONGCLUSE AT MORTLAKE HALL,                     91
+
+    XVIII. THE PARTY IN THE DINING-ROOM,                       96
+
+      XIX. IN MRS. TANSEY'S ROOM,                             103
+
+       XX. MRS. TANSEY'S STORY,                               108
+
+      XXI. A WALK BY MOONLIGHT,                               115
+
+     XXII. MR. LONGCLUSE MAKES AN ODD CONFIDENCE,             120
+
+    XXIII. THE MEETING,                                       125
+
+     XXIV. MR. LONGCLUSE FOLLOWS A SHADOW,                    129
+
+      XXV. A TETE-A-TETE,                                     133
+
+     XXVI. THE GARDEN AT MORTLAKE,                            137
+
+    XXVII. WINGED WORDS,                                      141
+
+   XXVIII. STORIES ABOUT MR. LONGCLUSE,                       147
+
+     XXIX. THE GARDEN PARTY,                                  153
+
+      XXX. HE SEES HER,                                       158
+
+     XXXI. ABOUT THE GROUNDS,                                 161
+
+    XXXII. UNDER THE LIME-TREES,                              167
+
+   XXXIII. THE DERBY,                                         171
+
+    XXXIV. A SHARP COLLOQUY,                                  174
+
+     XXXV. DINNER AT MORTLAKE,                                179
+
+    XXXVI. MR. LONGCLUSE SEES A LADY'S NOTE,                  183
+
+   XXXVII. WHAT ALICE COULD SAY,                              188
+
+  XXXVIII. GENTLEMEN IN TROUBLE,                              192
+
+    XXXIX. BETWEEN FRIENDS,                                   196
+
+       XL. AN INTERVIEW IN THE STUDY,                         199
+
+      XLI. VAN APPOINTS HIMSELF TO A DIPLOMATIC POST,         203
+
+     XLII. DIPLOMACY,                                         206
+
+    XLIII. A LETTER AND A SUMMONS,                            209
+
+     XLIV. THE REASON OF ALICE'S NOTE,                        213
+
+      XLV. COLLISION,                                         219
+
+     XLVI. AN UNKNOWN FRIEND,                                 224
+
+    XLVII. BY THE RIVER,                                      229
+
+   XLVIII. SUDDEN NEWS,                                       232
+
+     XLIX. VOWS FOR THE FUTURE,                               236
+
+        L. UNCLE DAVID'S SUSPICIONS,                          239
+
+       LI. THE SILHOUETTE,                                    244
+
+      LII. MR. LONGCLUSE EMPLOYED,                            248
+
+     LIII. THE NIGHT OF THE FUNERAL,                          252
+
+      LIV. AMONG THE TREES,                                   258
+
+       LV. MR. LONGCLUSE SEES A FRIEND,                       262
+
+      LVI. A HOPE EXPIRES,                                    266
+
+     LVII. LEVI'S APOLOGUE,                                   272
+
+    LVIII. THE BARON COMES TO TOWN,                           276
+
+      LIX. TWO OLD FRIENDS MEET AND PART,                     281
+
+       LX. "SAUL,"                                            286
+
+      LXI. A WAKING DREAM,                                    290
+
+     LXII. LOVE AND PLAY,                                     295
+
+    LXIII. PLANS,                                             300
+
+     LXIV. FROM FLOWER TO FLOWER,                             304
+
+      LXV. BEHIND THE ARRAS,                                  311
+
+     LXVI. A BUBBLE BROKEN,                                   313
+
+    LXVII. BOND AND DEED,                                     317
+
+   LXVIII. SIR RICHARD'S RESOLUTION,                          322
+
+     LXIX. THE MEETING,                                       326
+
+      LXX. MR. LONGCLUSE PROPOSES,                            329
+
+     LXXI. NIGHT,                                             332
+
+    LXXII. MEASURES,                                          336
+
+   LXXIII. AT THE BAR OF THE "GUY OF WARWICK,"                341
+
+    LXXIV. A LETTER,                                          346
+
+     LXXV. BLIGHT AND CHANGE,                                 351
+
+    LXXVI. PHOEBE CHIFFINCH,                                  356
+
+   LXXVII. MORE NEWS OF PAUL DAVIES,                          360
+
+  LXXVIII. THE CATACOMBS,                                     364
+
+    LXXIX. RESURRECTIONS,                                     371
+
+     LXXX. ANOTHER,                                           376
+
+    LXXXI. BROKEN,                                            379
+
+   LXXXII. DOPPELGANGER,                                      384
+
+  LXXXIII. A SHORT PARTING,                                   388
+
+   LXXXIV. AT MORTLAKE,                                       393
+
+    LXXXV. THE CRISIS,                                        399
+
+   LXXXVI. PURSUIT,                                           406
+
+  LXXXVII. CONCLUSION,                                        412
+
+
+
+
+CHECKMATE.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER I.
+
+MORTLAKE HALL.
+
+
+There stands about a mile and a half beyond Islington, unless it has
+come down within the last two years, a singular and grand old house. It
+belonged to the family of Arden, once distinguished in the Northumbrian
+counties. About fifty acres of ground, rich with noble clumps and masses
+of old timber, surround it; old-world fish-ponds, with swans sailing
+upon them, tall yew hedges, quincunxes, leaden fauns and goddesses, and
+other obsolete splendours surround it. It rises, tall, florid, built of
+Caen stone, with a palatial flight of steps, and something of the grace
+and dignity of the genius of Inigo Jones, to whom it is ascribed, with
+the shadows of ancestral trees and the stains of two centuries upon it,
+and a vague character of gloom and melancholy, not improved by some
+indications not actually of decay, but of something too like neglect.
+
+It is now evening, and a dusky glow envelopes the scene. The setting sun
+throws its level beams, through tall drawing-room windows, ruddily upon
+the Dutch tapestry on the opposite walls, and not unbecomingly lights up
+the little party assembled there.
+
+Good-natured, fat Lady May Penrose, in her bonnet, sips her tea and
+chats agreeably. Her carriage waits outside. You will ask who is that
+extremely beautiful girl who sits opposite, her large soft grey eyes
+gazing towards the western sky with a look of abstraction, too forgetful
+for a time of her company, leaning upon the slender hand she has placed
+under her cheek. How silken and golden-tinted the dark brown hair that
+grows so near her brows, making her forehead low, and marking with its
+broad line the beautiful oval of her face! Is there carmine anywhere to
+match her brilliant lips? And when, recollecting something to tell Lady
+May, she turns on a sudden, smiling, how soft and pretty the dimples,
+and how even the little row of pearls she discloses!
+
+This is Alice Arden, whose singularly handsome brother Richard, with
+some of her tints and outlines translated into masculine beauty, stands
+leaning on the back of a prie-dieu chair, and chatting gaily.
+
+But who is the thin, tall man--the only sinister figure in the
+group--with one hand in his breast, the other on a cabinet, as he leans
+against the wall? Who is that pale, thin-lipped man, "with cadaverous
+aspect and broken beak," whose eyes never seem to light up, but maintain
+their dismal darkness while his pale lips smile? Those eyes are fixed on
+the pretty face of Alice Arden, as she talks to Lady May, with a
+strangely intense gaze. His eyebrows rise a little, like those of
+Mephistopheles, towards his temples, with an expression that is
+inflexibly sarcastic, and sometimes menacing. His jaw is slightly
+underhung, a formation which heightens the satirical effect of his
+smile, and, by contrast, marks the depression of his nose.
+
+There was at this time in London a Mr. Longcluse, an agreeable man, a
+convenient man, who had got a sort of footing in many houses, nobody
+exactly knew how. He had a knack of obliging people when they really
+wanted a trifling kindness, and another of holding fast his advantage,
+and, without seeming to push, or ever appearing to flatter, of
+maintaining the acquaintance he had once founded. He looked about
+eight-and-thirty: he was really older. He was gentlemanlike, clever, and
+rich; but not a soul of all the men who knew him had ever heard of him
+at school or college. About his birth, parentage, and education, about
+his "life and adventures," he was dark.
+
+How were his smart acquaintance made? Oddly, as we shall learn when we
+know him a little better. It was a great pity that there were some odd
+things said about this very agreeable, obliging, and gentlemanlike
+person. It was a pity that more was not known about him. The man had
+enemies, no doubt, and from the sort of reserve that enveloped him their
+opportunity arose. But were there not about town hundreds of men, well
+enough accepted, about whose early days no one cared a pin, and
+everything was just as dark?
+
+Now Mr. Longcluse, with his pallid face, his flat nose, his sarcastic
+eyebrows, and thin-lipped smile, was overlooking this little company,
+his shoulder leaning against the frame that separated two pieces of the
+pretty Dutch tapestry which covered the walls.
+
+"By-the-bye, Mr. Longcluse--you can tell me, for you always know
+everything," said Lady May--"is there still any hope of that poor
+child's recovering--I mean the one in that dreadful murder in Thames
+Street, where the six poor little children were stabbed?"
+
+Mr. Longcluse smiled.
+
+"I'm so glad, Lady May, I can answer you upon good authority! I stopped
+to-day to ask Sir Edwin Dudley that very question through his carriage
+window, and he said that he had just been to the hospital to see the
+poor little thing, and that it was likely to do well."
+
+"I'm so glad! And what do they say can have been the motive of the
+murder?"
+
+"Jealousy, they say; or else the man is mad."
+
+"I should not wonder. I'm sure I hope he is. But they should take care
+to put him under lock and key."
+
+"So they will, rely on it; that's a matter of course."
+
+"I don't know how it is," continued Lady May, who was garrulous, "that
+murders interest people so much, who ought to be simply shocked at
+them."
+
+"We have a murder in our family, you know," said Richard Arden.
+
+"That was poor Henry Arden--I know," she answered, lowering her voice
+and dropping her eyes, with a side glance at Alice, for she did not know
+how she might like to hear it talked of.
+
+"Oh, that happened when Alice was only five months old, I think," said
+Richard; and slipping into the chair beside Lady May, he laid his hand
+upon hers with a smile, and whispered, leaning towards her--
+
+"You are always so thoughtful; it is _so_ nice of you!"
+
+And this short speech ended, his eyes remained fixed for some seconds,
+with a glow of tender admiration, on those of fat Lady May, who simpered
+with effusion, and did not draw her hand away until she thought she saw
+Mr. Longcluse glance their way.
+
+It was quite true, all he said of Lady May. It would not be easy to find
+a simpler or more good-natured person. She was very rich also, and, it
+was said by people who love news and satire, had long been willing to
+share her gold and other chattels with handsome Richard Arden, who being
+but five-and-twenty, might very nearly have been her son.
+
+"I remember that horrible affair," said Mr. Longcluse, with a little
+shrug and a shake of his head. "Where was I then--Paris or Vienna? Paris
+it was. I recollect it all now, for my purse was stolen by the very man
+who made his escape--Mace was his name; he was a sort of low man on the
+turf, I believe. I was very young then--somewhere about seventeen, I
+think."
+
+"You can't have been more, of course," said good-natured Lady May.
+
+"I should like very much some time to hear all about it," continued Mr.
+Longcluse.
+
+"So you shall," said Richard, "whenever you like."
+
+"Every old family has a murder, and a ghost, and a beauty also, though
+she does not always live and breathe, except in the canvas of Lely, or
+Kneller, or Reynolds: and they, you know, had roses and lilies to give
+away at discretion, in their paint-boxes, and were courtiers," remarked
+Mr. Longcluse, "who dealt sometimes in the old-fashioned business of
+making compliments. _I_ say happy the man who lives in those summers
+when the loveliness of some beautiful family culminates, and who may, at
+ever such a distance, gaze and worship."
+
+This ugly man spoke in a low tone, and his voice was rather sweet. He
+looked as he spoke at Miss Arden, from whom, indeed, his eyes did not
+often wander.
+
+"Very prettily said!" applauded Lady May affably.
+
+"I forgot to ask you, Lady May," inquired Alice, cruelly, at this
+moment, "how the pretty little Italian greyhound is that was so
+ill--better, I hope."
+
+"Ever so much--quite well almost. I'd have taken him out for a drive
+to-day, poor dear little Pepsie! but that I thought the sun just a
+little overpowering. Didn't you?"
+
+"Perhaps a little."
+
+Mr. Longcluse lowered his eyes as he leaned against the wall and sighed,
+with a pained smile, that even upon his plain, pallid face, was
+pathetic.
+
+Did proud Richard Arden perceive the devotion of the dubious
+Longcluse--undefined in position, in history, in origin, in character,
+in all things but in wealth? Of course he did, perfectly. But that
+wealth was said to be enormous. There were Jews, who ought to know, who
+said he was worth one million eight hundred thousand pounds, and that
+his annual income was considerably more than a hundred thousand pounds a
+year.
+
+Was a man like that to be dismissed without inquiry? Had he not found
+him good-natured and gentlemanlike? What about those stories circulated
+among Jews and croupiers? Enemies might affect to believe them, and
+quote the old saw, "There is never smoke without fire;" but dare one of
+them utter a word of the kind aloud? Did they stand the test of five
+minutes' inquiry, such even as he had given them? Had he found a
+particle of proof, of evidence, of suspicion? Not a spark. What man had
+ever escaped stories who was worth forging a lie about?
+
+Here was a man worth more than a million. Why, if _he_ let him slip
+through his fingers, some duchess would pounce on him for her daughter.
+
+It was well that Longcluse was really in love--well, perhaps, that he
+did not appreciate the social omnipotence of money.
+
+"Where is Sir Reginald at present?" asked Lady May.
+
+"Not here, you may be sure," answered Richard. "My father does not admit
+my visits, you know."
+
+"Really! And is that miserable quarrel kept up still?"
+
+"Only too true. He is in France at present; at Vichy--ain't it Vichy?"
+he said to Alice.
+
+But she, not choosing to talk, said simply, "Yes--Vichy."
+
+"I'm going to take Alice into town again; she has promised to stay with
+me a little longer. And I think you neglect her a little, don't you? You
+ought to come and see her a little oftener," pleaded Lady May, in an
+undertone.
+
+"I only feared I was boring you all. Nothing, _you_ know, would give me
+half so much pleasure," he answered.
+
+"Well, then, she'll expect your visits, mind."
+
+A little silence followed. Richard was vexed with his sister; she was,
+he thought, snubbing his friend Longcluse.
+
+Well, when once he had spoken his mind and disclosed his treasures,
+Richard flattered himself he had some influence; and did not Lady May
+swear by Mr. Longcluse? And was his father, the most despotic and
+violent of baronets, and very much dipt, likely to listen to sentimental
+twaddle pleading against a hundred thousand a year? So, Miss Alice, if
+you were disposed to talk nonsense, it was not very likely to be
+listened to, and sharp and short logic might ensue.
+
+How utterly unconscious of all this she sits there, thinking, I daresay,
+of quite another person!
+
+Mr. Longcluse was also for a moment in profound reverie; so was Richard
+Arden. The secrecy of thought is a pleasant privilege to the
+thinker--perhaps hardly less a boon to the person pondered upon.
+
+If each man's forehead could project its shadows and the light of his
+spirit shine through, and the confluence of figures and phantoms that
+cross and march behind it become visible, how that magic-lantern might
+appal good easy people!
+
+And now the ladies fell to talking and comparing notes about their
+guipure lacework.
+
+"How charming yours looks, my dear, round that little table!" exclaimed
+Lady May in a rapture. "I'm sure I hope mine may turn out half as
+pretty. I wanted to compare; I'm not quite sure whether it is exactly
+the same pattern."
+
+And so on, until it was time for them to order their wings for town.
+
+The gentlemen have business of their own to transact, or pleasures to
+pursue. Mr. Longcluse has his trap there, to carry them into town when
+their hour comes. They can only put the ladies into their places, and
+bid them good-bye, and exchange parting reminders and good-natured
+speeches.
+
+Pale Mr. Longcluse, as he stands on the steps, looks with his dark eyes
+after the disappearing carriage, and sighs deeply. He has forgotten all
+for the moment but one dream. Richard Arden wakens him, by laying his
+hand on his shoulder.
+
+"Come, Longcluse, let us have a cigar in the billiard-room, and a talk.
+I have a box of Manillas that I think you will say are delicious--that
+is, if you like them full-flavoured."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER II.
+
+MARTHA TANSEY.
+
+
+"By-the-bye, Longcluse," said Richard, as they entered together the long
+tiled passage that leads to the billiard-room, "you like pictures. There
+is one here, banished to the housekeeper's room, that they say is a
+Vandyck; we must have it cleaned and backed, and restored to its old
+place--but would you care to look at it?"
+
+"Certainly, I should like extremely," said Mr. Longcluse.
+
+They were now at the door of the housekeeper's room, and Richard Arden
+knocked.
+
+"Come in," said the quavering voice of the old woman from within.
+
+Richard Arden opened the door wide. The misty rose-coloured light of the
+setting sun filled the room. From the wall right opposite, the pale
+portrait of Sir Thomas Arden, who fought for the king during the great
+Civil War, looked forth from his deep dingy frame full upon them, stern
+and melancholy; the misty beams touching the softer lights of his long
+hair and the gleam of his armour so happily, that the figure came out
+from its dark background, and seemed ready to step forth to meet them.
+As it happened, there was no one in the room but old Mrs. Tansey, the
+housekeeper, who received Richard Arden standing.
+
+From the threshold, Mr. Longcluse, lost in wonder at the noble picture,
+gazed on it, with the exclamation, almost a cry, "Good heaven! what a
+noble work! I had no idea there could be such a thing in existence and
+so little known." And he stood for awhile in a rapture, gazing from the
+threshold on the portrait.
+
+At sound of that voice, with a vague and terrible recognition, the
+housekeeper turned with a start towards the door, expecting, you'd have
+fancied from her face, the entrance of a ghost. There was a tremble in
+the voice with which she cried, "Lord! what's that?" a tremble in the
+hand extended towards the door, and a shake also in the pale frowning
+face, from which shone her glassy eyes.
+
+Mr. Longcluse stepped in, and the old woman's gaze became, as he did so,
+more shrinking and intense. When he saw her he recoiled, as a man might
+who had all but trod upon a snake; and these two people gazed at one
+another with a strange, uncertain scowl.
+
+In Mr. Longcluse's case, this dismal caprice of countenance did not last
+beyond a second or two. Richard Arden, as he turned his eyes from the
+picture to say a word to his companion, saw it for a moment, and it
+faded from his features--saw it, and the darkened countenance of the old
+housekeeper, with a momentary shock. He glanced from one to the other
+quickly, with a look of unconscious surprise. That look instantly
+recalled Mr. Longcluse, who, laying his hand on Richard Arden's arm,
+said, with a laugh--"I do believe I'm the most nervous man in the
+world."
+
+"You don't find the room too hot?" said Richard, inwardly ruminating
+upon the strange looks he had just seen exchanged. "Mrs. Tansey keeps a
+fire all the year round--don't you, Martha?"
+
+Martha did not answer, nor seem to hear; she pressed her lean hand,
+instead, to her heart, and drew back to a sofa and sat down, muttering,
+"My God, lighten our darkness, we beseech thee!" and she looked as if
+she were on the point of fainting.
+
+"That is a true Vandyck," said Mr. Longcluse, who was now again looking
+stedfastly at the picture. "It deserves to rank among his finest
+portraits. I have never seen anything of his more forcible. You really
+ought not to leave it here, and in this state." He walked over and
+raised the lower end of the frame gently from the wall. "Yes, just as
+you said, it wants to be backed. That portrait would not stand a shake,
+I can tell you. The canvas is perfectly rotten, and the paint--if you
+stand here you'll see--is ready to flake off. It is an awful pity. You
+shouldn't leave it in such danger."
+
+"No," said Richard, who was looking at the old woman. "I don't think
+Martha's well--will you excuse me for a moment?" And he was at the
+housekeeper's side. "What's the matter, Martha?" he said kindly. "Are
+you ill?"
+
+"Very bad, Sir. I beg your pardon for sitting, but I could not help; and
+the gentleman will excuse me."
+
+"Of course--but what's the matter?" said Richard.
+
+"A sudden fright like, Sir. I'm all over on a tremble," she quavered.
+
+"See how exquisitely that hand is painted," continued Mr. Longcluse,
+pursuing his criticism, "and the art with which the lights are managed.
+It is a wonderful picture. It makes one positively angry to see it in
+that state, and anywhere but in the most conspicuous and honourable
+place. If I owned that picture, I should never be tired showing it. I
+should have it where everyone who came into my house should see it; and
+I should watch every crack and blur on its surface, as I should the
+symptoms of a dying child, or the looks of the mistress of my heart. Now
+just look at this. Where is he? Oh!"
+
+"I beg your pardon, a thousand times, but I find my old friend Martha
+feels a little faint and ill," said Richard.
+
+"Dear me! I hope she's better," said Mr. Longcluse, approaching with
+solicitude. "Can I be of any use? Shall I touch the bell?"
+
+"I'm better, Sir, I thank you; I'm much better," said the old woman. "It
+won't signify nothing, only--" She was looking hard again at Mr.
+Longcluse, who now seemed perfectly at his ease, and showed in his
+countenance nothing but the commiseration befitting the occasion. "A
+sort of a weakness--a fright like--and I can't think, quite, what came
+over me."
+
+"Don't you think a glass of wine might do her good?" asked Mr.
+Longcluse.
+
+"Thanks, Sir, I don't drink it. Oh, lighten our darkness, we beseech
+thee! Good Lord, a' mercy on us! I take them drops, hartshorn and
+valerian, on a little water, when I feel nervous like. I don't know when
+I was took wi' t' creepins before."
+
+"You look better," said Richard.
+
+"I'm quite right again, Sir," she said, with a sigh. She had taken her
+"drops," and seemed restored.
+
+"Hadn't you better have one of the maids with you? I'm going now; I'll
+send some one," he said. "You must get all right, Martha. It pains me to
+see you ill. You're a very old friend, remember. You must be all right
+again; and, if you like, we'll have the doctor out, from town."
+
+He said this, holding her thin old hand very kindly, for he was by no
+means without good-nature. So sending the promised attendant, he and
+Longcluse proceeded to the billiard-room, where, having got the lamps
+lighted, they began to enjoy their smoke. Each, I fancy, was thinking of
+the little incident in the housekeeper's room. There was a long silence.
+
+"Poor old Tansey! She looked awfully ill," said Richard Arden at last.
+
+"By Jove! she did. Is that her name? She rather frightened me," said Mr.
+Longcluse. "I thought we had stumbled on a mad woman--she stared so. Has
+she ever had any kind of fit, poor thing?"
+
+"No. She grumbles a good deal, but I really think she's a healthy old
+woman enough. She says she was frightened."
+
+"We came in too suddenly, perhaps?"
+
+"No, that wasn't it, for I knocked first," said Arden.
+
+"Ah, yes, so you did. I only know she frightened me. I really thought
+she was out of her mind, and that she was going to stick me with a
+knife, perhaps," said Mr. Longcluse, with a little laugh and a shrug.
+
+Arden laughed, and puffed away at his cigar till he had it in a glow
+again. Was this explanation of what he had seen in Longcluse's
+countenance--a picture presented but for a fraction of a second, but
+thenceforward ineffaceable--quite satisfactory?
+
+In a short time Mr. Longcluse asked whether he could have a little
+brandy and water, which accordingly was furnished. In his first glass
+there was a great deal of brandy, and very little water indeed; and his
+second, sipped more at his leisure, was but little more diluted. A very
+faint flush tinged his pallid cheeks.
+
+Richard Arden was, by this time, thinking of his own debts and ill-luck,
+and at last he said, "I wonder what the art of getting on in the world
+is. Is it communicable? or is it no art at all, but a simple run of
+luck?"
+
+Mr. Longcluse smiled scornfully. "There are men who have immense faith
+in themselves," said he, "who have indomitable will, and who are
+provided with craft and pliancy for any situation. Those men are giants
+from the first to the last hour of action, unless, as happened to
+Napoleon, success enervates them. In the cradle, they strangle serpents;
+blind, they pull down palaces; old as Dandolo, they burn fleets and
+capture cities. It is only when they have taken to bragging that the
+_lues Napoleonica_ has set in. Now I have been, in a sense, a successful
+man--I am worth some money. If I were the sort of man I describe, I
+should be worth, if I cared for it, ten times what I have in as many
+years. But I don't care to confess I made my money by flukes. If, having
+no tenderness, you have two attributes--profound cunning and perfect
+audacity--nothing can keep you back. I'm a common-place man, I say; but
+I know what constitutes power. Life is a battle, and the general's
+qualities win."
+
+"I have not got the general's qualities, I think; and I know I haven't
+luck," said Arden; "so for my part I may as well drift, with as little
+trouble as may be, wherever the current drives. Happiness is not for all
+men."
+
+"Happiness is for _no_ man," said Mr. Longcluse. And a little silence
+followed. "Now suppose a fellow has got more money than ever he dreamed
+of," he resumed, "and finds money, after all, not quite what he fancied,
+and that he has come to long for a prize quite distinct and infinitely
+more precious; so that he finds, at last, that he never can be happy for
+an hour without it, and yet, for all his longing and his pains, sees it
+is unattainable as that star." (He pointed to a planet that shone down
+through the skylight.) "Is that man happy? He carries with him, go where
+he may, an aching heart, the pangs of jealousy and despair, and the
+longing of the damned for Paradise. That is _my_ miserable case."
+
+Richard Arden laughed, as he lighted his second cigar.
+
+"Well, if that's your case, you can't be one of those giants you
+described just now. Women are not the obdurate and cruel creatures you
+fancy. They are proud, and vain, and unforgiving; but the misery and the
+perseverance of a lover constitute a worship that first flatters and
+then wins them. Remember this, a woman finds it very hard to give up a
+worshipper, except for another. Now why should you despair? You are a
+gentleman, you are a clever fellow, an agreeable fellow; you are what is
+accounted a young man still, and you can make your wife rich. They all
+like that. It is not avarice, but pride. I don't know the young lady,
+but I see no good reason why you should fail."
+
+"I wish, Arden, I dare tell you all; but some day I'll tell you more."
+
+"The only thing is---- You'll not mind my telling you, as you have been
+so frank with me?"
+
+"Pray say whatever you think. I shall be ever so much obliged. I forget
+so many things about English manners and ways of thinking--I have lived
+so very much abroad. Should I be put up for a club?"
+
+"Well, I should not mind a club just yet, till you know more
+people--quite time enough. But you must manage better. Why should those
+Jew fellows, and other people, who don't hold, and never can, a position
+the least like yours, be among your acquaintance? You must make it a
+rule to drop all objectionable persons, and know none but good people.
+Of course, when you are strong enough it doesn't so much matter,
+provided you keep them at arm's length. But you passed your younger days
+abroad, as you say, and not being yet so well known here, you will have
+to be particular--don't you see? A man is so much judged by his
+acquaintance; and, in fact, it is essential."
+
+"A thousand thanks for any hints that strike you," said Longcluse
+good-humouredly.
+
+"They sound frivolous; but these trifles have immense weight with
+women," said Arden. "By Jove!" he added, glancing at his watch, "we
+shall be late. Your trap is at the door--suppose we go?"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER III.
+
+MR. LONGCLUSE OPENS HIS HEART.
+
+
+The old housekeeper had drawn near her window, and stood close to the
+pane, through which she looked out upon the star-lit night. The stars
+shine down over the foliage of huge old trees. Dim as shadows stand the
+horse and tax-cart that await Mr. Longcluse and Richard Arden, who now
+at length appear. The groom fixes the lamps, one of which shines full on
+Mr. Longcluse's peculiar face.
+
+"Ay--the voice; I could a' sworn to that," she muttered. "It went
+through me like a scythe. But that's a strange face; and yet there's
+summat in it, just a hint like, to call my thoughts out a-seeking up and
+down, and to and fro; and 'twill not let me rest until I come to find
+the truth. Mace? No, no. Langly? Not he. Yet 'twas summat _that night_,
+I think--summat awful. And who _was_ there? No one. Lighten our
+darkness, we beseech thee, O Lord! for my heart is sore troubled."
+
+Up jumped the groom. Mr. Longcluse had the reins in his hand, and he and
+his companion passed swiftly by the window, and the flash of the lamps
+crossed the panelled walls of the housekeeper's room. The light danced
+wildly from corner to corner of the wainscot, accompanied by the shadows
+of two geraniums in bow-pots on the window-stool. The lamps flew by, and
+she still stood there, with the palsied shake of her head and hand,
+looking out into the darkness, in rumination.
+
+Arden and Longcluse glided through the night air in silence, under the
+mighty old trees that had witnessed generations of Ardens, down the
+darker, narrow road, and by the faded old inn, once famous in those
+regions as the "Guy of Warwick," representing still on its board, in
+tarnished gold and colours, that redoubted champion, with a boar's head
+on the point of his sword, and a grotesque lion winding itself fawningly
+about his horse's legs.
+
+As they passed swiftly along this smooth and deserted road, Longcluse
+spoke. _Aperit præcordia vinum._ In his brandy and water he had not
+spared alcohol, and the quantity was considerable.
+
+"I have lots of money, Arden, and I can talk to people, as you say," he
+suddenly said, as if Richard Arden had spoken but a moment before; "but,
+on the whole, is there on earth a more miserable dog than I? There are
+things that trouble me that would make you laugh; there are others that
+would, if I dare tell them, make you sigh. Soon I shall be able; soon
+you shall know all. I'm not a bad fellow. I know how to give away money,
+and, what is harder to bestow on others, my time and labour. But who to
+look at me would believe it? I'm not a worse fellow than Penruddock. I
+can cry for pity and do a kind act like him; but I look in my glass, and
+I also feel like him, 'the mark of Cain' is on me--cruelty in my face.
+Why should Nature write on some men's faces such libels on their
+characters? Then here's another thing to make you laugh--you, a handsome
+fellow, to whom beauty belongs, I say, by right of birth--it would make
+me laugh also if I were not, as I am, forced every hour I live to count
+up, in agonies of hope and terror, my chances in that enterprise in
+which all my happiness for life is staked so wildly. Common ugliness
+does not matter, it is got over. But such a face as mine! Come, come!
+you are too good-natured to say. I'm not asking for consolation; I am
+only summing up my curses."
+
+"You make too much of these. Lady May thinks your face, she says, very
+interesting--upon my honour, she does."
+
+"Oh, heaven!" exclaimed Mr. Longcluse, with a shrug and a laugh.
+
+"And what is more to the purpose (will you forgive my reporting all
+this--you won't mind?), some young lady friends of hers who were by
+said, I assure you, that you had so much expression, and that your
+features were extremely refined."
+
+"It won't do, Arden; you are too good-natured," said he, laughing more
+bitterly.
+
+"I should much rather be as I am, if I were you, than be gifted with
+vulgar beauty--plump, pink and white, with black beady eyes, and all
+that," said Arden.
+
+"But the heaviest curse upon me is that which, perhaps, you do not
+suspect--the curse of--secrecy."
+
+"Oh, really!" said Arden, laughing, as if he had thought up to then that
+Mr. Longcluse's history was as well known as that of the ex-Emperor
+Napoleon.
+
+"I don't say that I shall come out like the enchanted hero in a fairy
+tale, and change in a moment from a beast into a prince; but I am
+something better than I seem. In a short time, if you cared to be bored
+with it, I shall have a great deal to tell you."
+
+There followed here a silence of two or three minutes, and then, on a
+sudden, pathetically, Mr. Longcluse broke forth--
+
+"What has a fellow like me to do with love? and less than beloved, can I
+ever be happy? I know something of the world--not of this London world,
+where I live less than I seem to do, and into which I came too late ever
+to understand it thoroughly--I know something of a greater world, and
+human nature is the same everywhere. You talk of a girl's pride inducing
+her to marry a man for the sake of his riches. Could I possess my
+beloved on those terms? I would rather place a pistol in my mouth, and
+blow my skull off. Arden, I'm unhappy; I'm the most miserable dog
+alive."
+
+"Come, Longcluse, that's all nonsense. Beauty is no advantage to a man.
+The being agreeable is an immense one. But success is what women
+worship, and if, in addition to that, you possess wealth--not, as I
+said, that they are sordid, but only vain-glorious--you become very
+nearly irresistible. Now _you_ are agreeable, successful and
+wealthy--you must see what follows."
+
+"I'm out of spirits," said Longcluse, and relapsed into silence, with a
+great sigh.
+
+By this time they had got within the lamps, and were threading streets,
+and rapidly approaching their destination. Five minutes more, and these
+gentlemen had entered a vast room, in the centre of which stood a
+billiard-table, with benches rising tier above tier to the walls, and a
+gallery running round the building above them, brilliantly lighted, as
+such places are, and already crowded with all kinds of people. There is
+going to be a great match of a "thousand up" played between Bill Hood
+and Bob Markham. The betting has been unusually high; it is still going
+on. The play won't begin for nearly half an hour. The "admirers of the
+game" have mustered in great force and variety. There are young peers,
+with sixty thousand a year, and there are gentlemen who live by their
+billiards. There are, for once in a way, grave persons, bankers, and
+counsel learned in the law; there are Jews and a sprinkling of
+foreigners; and there are members of Parliament and members of the swell
+mob.
+
+Mr. Longcluse has a good deal to think about this night. He _is_ out of
+spirits. Richard Arden is no longer with him, having picked up a friend
+or two in the room. Longcluse, with folded arms, and his shoulders
+against the wall, is in a profound reverie, his dark eyes for the time
+lowered to the floor, beside the point of his French boot. _There_
+unfold themselves beneath him picture after picture, the scenes of many
+a year ago. Looking down, there creeps over him an old horror, a
+supernatural disgust, and he sees in the dark a pair of wide, white
+eyes, staring up at him in an agony of terror, and a shrill yell,
+piercing a distance of many years, makes him shake his ears with a
+sudden chill. Is this the witches' Sabbath of our pale Mephistopheles--his
+night of goblins? He raised his eyes, and they met those of a person
+whom he had not seen for a very long time--a third part of his whole
+life. The two pairs of eyes, at nearly half across the room, have met,
+and for a moment fixed. The stranger smiles and nods. Mr. Longcluse does
+neither. He affects now to be looking over the stranger's shoulder at
+some more distant object. There is a strange chill and commotion at his
+heart.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IV.
+
+MONSIEUR LEBAS.
+
+
+Mr. Longcluse leaned still with folded arms, and his shoulder to the
+wall. The stranger, smiling and fussy, was making his way to him. There
+is nothing in this man's appearance to associate him with tragic
+incident or emotion of any kind. He is plainly a foreigner. He is short,
+fat, middle-aged, with a round fat face, radiant with good humour and
+good-natured enjoyment. His dress is cut in the somewhat grotesque style
+of a low French tailor. It is not very new, and has some spots of grease
+upon it. Mr. Longcluse perceives that he is now making his way towards
+him. Longcluse for a moment thought of making his escape by the door,
+which was close to him; but he reflected, "He is about the most innocent
+and good-natured soul on earth, and why should I seem to avoid him?
+Better, if he's looking for me, to let him find me, and say his say." So
+Longcluse looked another way, his arms still folded, and his shoulders
+against the wall as before.
+
+"Ah, ha! Monsieur is thinking profoundly," said a gay voice in French.
+"Ah, ha, ha, ha! you are surprised, Sir, to see me here. So am I, my
+faith! I saw you. I never forget a face."
+
+"Nor a friend, Lebas. Who could have imagined anything to bring you to
+London?" answered Longcluse, in the same language, shaking him warmly by
+the hand, and smiling down on the little man. "I shall never forget your
+kindness. I think I should have died in that _illness_ but for you. How
+can I ever thank you half enough?"
+
+"And the grand secret--the political difficulty--Monsieur found it well
+evaded," he said, mysteriously touching his upper lip with two fingers.
+
+"Not all quiet yet. I suppose you thought I was in Vienna?"
+
+"Eh? well, yes--so I did," answered Lebas, with a shrug. "But perhaps
+you think this place safer."
+
+"Hush! You'll come to me to-morrow. I'll tell you where to find me
+before we part, and you'll bring your portmanteau and stay with me while
+you remain in London, and the longer the better."
+
+"Monsieur is too kind, a great deal; but I am staying for my visit to
+London with my brother-in-law, Gabriel Laroque, the watchmaker. He lives
+on the Hill of Ludgate, and he would be offended if I were to reside
+anywhere but in his house while I stay. But if Monsieur would be so good
+as to permit me to call----"
+
+"You must come and dine with me to-morrow; I have a box for the opera.
+You love music, or you are not the Pierre Lebas whom I remember sitting
+with his violin at an open window. So come early, come before six; I
+have ever so much to ask you. And what has brought you to London?"
+
+"A very little business and a great deal of pleasure; but all in a
+week," said the little man, with a shrug and a hearty laugh. "I have
+come over here about some little things like that." He smiled archly as
+he produced from his waistcoat pocket a little flat box with a glass
+top, and shook something in it. "Commerce, you see. I have to see two or
+three more of the London people, and then my business will have
+terminated, and nothing remain for the rest of the week but
+pleasure--ha, ha!"
+
+"You left all at home well, I hope--children?" He was going to say
+"Madame," but a good many years had passed.
+
+"I have seven children. Monsieur will remember two. Three are by my
+first marriage, four by my second, and all enjoy the very best health.
+Three are very young--three, two, one year old; and they say a fourth is
+not impossible very soon," he added archly.
+
+Longcluse laughed kindly, and laid his hand upon his shoulder.
+
+"You must take charge of a little present for each from me, and one for
+Madame. And the old business still flourishes?"
+
+"A thousand thanks! yes, the business is the same--the file, the chisel,
+and knife." And he made a corresponding movement of his hand as he
+mentioned each instrument.
+
+"_Hush!_" said Longcluse, smiling, so that no one who did not hear him
+would have supposed there was so much cautious emphasis in the word. "My
+good friend, remember there are details we talk of, you and I together,
+that are not to be mentioned so suitably in a place like this," and he
+pressed his hand on his wrist, and shook it gently.
+
+"A thousand pardons! I am, I know, too careless, and let my tongue too
+often run before my caution. My wife, she says, 'You can't wash your
+shirt but you must tell the world.' It is my weakness truly. She is a
+woman of extraordinary penetration."
+
+Mr. Longcluse glanced from the corners of his eyes about the room.
+Perhaps he wished to ascertain whether his talk with this man, whom you
+would have taken to be little above the level of a French mechanic, had
+excited anyone's attention. But there was nothing to make him think so.
+
+"Now, Pierre, my friend, you must win some money upon this match--do you
+see? And you won't deny me the pleasure of putting down your stake for
+you; and, if you win, you shall buy something pretty for Madame--and,
+win or lose, I shall think it friendly of you after so many years, and
+like you the better."
+
+"Monsieur is too good," he said with effusion.
+
+"Now look. Do you see that fat Jew over there on the front bench--you
+can't mistake him--with the velvet waistcoat all in wrinkles, and the
+enormous lips, who talks to every second person who passes?"
+
+"I see perfectly, Monsieur."
+
+"He is betting three to one upon Markham. You must take his offer, and
+back Hood. I'm told _he'll_ win. Here are ten pounds, you may as well
+make them thirty. Don't say a word. Our English custom is to _tip_, as
+we say, our friend's sons at school, and to make presents to everybody,
+as often as we like. Now there--not a word." He quietly slipped into his
+hand a little rouleau of ten pounds in gold. "If you say one word you
+wound me," he continued. "But, good Heaven! my dear friend, haven't you
+a breast-pocket?"
+
+"No, Monsieur; but this is quite safe. I was paid, only five minutes
+before I came here, fifteen pounds in gold, a cheque of forty-four
+pounds, and----"
+
+"Be silent. You may be overheard. Speak here in a very low tone, as I
+do. And do you mean to tell me that you carry all that money in your
+coat pocket?"
+
+"But in a pocket-book, Monsieur."
+
+"All the more convenient for the _chevalier d'industrie_," said
+Longcluse. "Stop. Pray don't produce it; your fate is, perhaps, sealed
+if you do. There are gentlemen in this room who would hustle and rob you
+in the crowd as you get out; or, failing that, who, seeing that you are
+a stranger, would follow and murder you in the streets, for the sake of
+a twentieth part of that sum."
+
+"Gabriel thought there would be none here but men distinguished," said
+Lebas, in some consternation.
+
+"Distinguished by the special attention of the police, some of them,"
+said Longcluse.
+
+"Hé! that is very true," said Monsieur Lebas--"very true, I am sure of
+it. See you that man there, Monsieur? Regard him for a moment. The tall
+man, who leans with his shoulder to the metal pillar of the gallery. My
+faith! he has observed my steps and followed me. I thought he was a spy.
+But my friend he says 'No, that is a man of bad character, dismissed for
+bad practices from the police.' Aha! he has watched me sideways, with
+the corner of his eye. I will watch him with the corner of mine--ha,
+ha!"
+
+"It proves, at all events, Lebas, that there are people here other than
+gentlemen and men of honest lives," said Longcluse.
+
+"But," said Lebas, brightening a little, "I have this weapon," producing
+a dagger from the same pocket.
+
+"Put it back this instant. Worse and worse, my good friend. Don't you
+know that just now there is a police activity respecting foreigners, and
+that two have been arrested only yesterday on no charge but that of
+having weapons about their persons? I don't know what the devil you had
+best do."
+
+"I can return to the Hill of Ludgate--eh?"
+
+"Pity to lose the game; they won't let you back again," said Longcluse.
+
+"What shall I do?" said Lebas, keeping his hand now in his pocket on his
+treasure.
+
+Longcluse rubbed the tip of his finger a little over his eyebrow,
+thinking.
+
+"Listen to me," said Longcluse, suddenly. "Is your brother-in-law here?"
+
+"No, Monsieur."
+
+"Well, you have some London friend in the room, haven't you?"
+
+"One--yes."
+
+"Only be sure he is one whom you can trust, and who has a safe pocket."
+
+"Oh, yes, Monsieur, entirely! and I saw him place his purse so," he
+said, touching his coat, over his heart, with his fingers.
+
+"Well, now, you can't manage it here, under the gaze of the people;
+but--_where_ is best? Yes--you see those two doors at opposite sides in
+the wall, at the far end of the room? They open into two parallel
+corridors leading to the hall, and a little way down there is a cross
+passage, in the middle of which is a door opening into a smoking-room.
+That room will be deserted now, and there, unseen, you can place your
+money and dagger in his charge."
+
+"Ah, thank you a hundred thousand times, Monsieur!" answered Lebas. "I
+shall be writing to the Baron van Boeren to-morrow, and I will tell him
+I have met Monsieur."
+
+"Don't mind; how is the baron?" asked Longcluse.
+
+"Very well. Beginning to be not so young, you know, and thinking of
+retiring. I will tell him his work has succeeded. If he demolishes, he
+also secures. If he sometimes sheds blood----"
+
+"_Hush!_" whispered Longcluse, sternly.
+
+"There is no one," murmured little Lebas, looking round, but dropping
+his voice to a whisper. "He also saves a neck sometimes from the blade
+of the guillotine."
+
+Longcluse frowned, a little embarrassed. Lebas smiled archly. In a
+moment Longcluse's impatient frown broke into a mysterious smile that
+responded.
+
+"May I say one word more, and make one request of Monsieur, which I hope
+he will not think very impertinent?" asked Monsieur Lebas, who had just
+been on the point of taking his leave.
+
+"It mayn't be in my power to grant it; but you can't be what you say--I
+am too much obliged to you--so speak quite freely," said Longcluse.
+
+So they talked a little more and parted, and Monsieur Lebas went on his
+way.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER V.
+
+A CATASTROPHE.
+
+
+The play has commenced. Longcluse, who likes and understands the game,
+sitting beside Richard Arden, is all eye. He is intensely eager and
+delighted. He joins modestly in the clapping that now and then follows a
+stroke of extraordinary brilliancy. Now and then he whispers a criticism
+in Arden's ear. There are many vicissitudes in the game. The players
+have entered on the third hundred, and still "doubtful it stood." The
+excitement is extraordinary. The assembly is as hushed as if it were
+listening to a sermon, and, I am afraid, more attentive. Now, on a
+sudden, Hood scores a hundred and sixty-eight points in a single break.
+A burst of prolonged applause follows, and, during the clapping, in
+which he had at first joined, Longcluse says to Arden,--
+
+"I can't tell you how that run of Hood's delights me. I saw a poor
+little friend of mine here before the play began--I had not seen him
+since I was little more than a boy--a Frenchman, a good-natured little
+soul, and I advised him to back Hood, and I have been trembling up to
+this moment. But I think he's safe now to win. Markham can't score this
+time. If he's in 'Queer Street,' as they whisper round the room, you'll
+find he'll either give a simple miss, or put himself into the pocket."
+
+"Well, I'm sure I hope your friend will win, because it will put three
+hundred and eighty pounds into my pocket," said Richard Arden.
+
+And now silence was called, and the building became, in a moment, hushed
+as a cathedral before the anthem; and Markham knocked his own ball into
+the pocket as Longcluse had predicted.
+
+On sped the game, and at last Hood scored a thousand, and won the match,
+greeted by an uproar of applause that, now being no longer restrained,
+lasted for nearly five minutes. The assemblage had, by this time,
+descended from the benches, and crowded the floor in clusters,
+discussing the play or settling bets. The people in the gallery were
+pouring down by the four staircases, and adding to the crowd and buzz.
+
+Suddenly there is a sort of excitement perceptible of a new kind--a
+gathering and pressure of men about one of the doors at the far corner
+of the room. Men are looking back and beckoning to their companions;
+others are shouldering forward as strenuously as they can. What is
+it--any dispute about the score?--a pair of men boxing in the passage?
+
+"No suspicion of fire?" the men at this near end exclaim, and sniff over
+their shoulders, and look about them, and move toward the point where
+the crowd is thickening, not knowing what to make of the matter. But
+soon there runs a rumour about the room--"a man has just been found
+murdered in a room outside," and the crowd now press forward more
+energetically to the point of attraction.
+
+In the cross-passage which connects the two corridors, as Mr. Longcluse
+described, there is an awful crush, and next to no light. A single jet
+of gas burns in the smoking room, where the pressure of the crowd is not
+quite so much felt. There are two policemen in that chamber, in the
+ordinary uniform of the force, and three detectives in plain clothes,
+one supporting a corpse already stiffening, in a sitting posture, as it
+was found, in a far angle of the room, on the bench to your left as you
+look in. All the people are looking up the room. You can see nothing but
+hats, and backs of heads, and shoulders. There is a ceaseless buzz and
+clack of talk and conjecture. Even the policemen are looking, as the
+rest do, at the body. The man who has mounted on the chair near the
+door, with the other beside him, who has one foot on the rung and
+another on the seat, and an arm round the first gentleman's neck,
+although he has not the honour of his acquaintance, to support himself,
+can see, over the others' heads, the one silent face which looks back
+towards the door, upon so many gaping, and staring, and gabbling ones.
+The light is faint. It has occurred to no one to light the gas lamps in
+the centre. But that forlorn face is distinct enough. Fixed and leaden
+it is, with the chin a little raised. The eyes are wide open, with a
+deep and awful gaze; the mouth slightly distorted with what the doctors
+call "a convulsive smile," which shows the teeth a little, and has an
+odd, wincing look.
+
+As I live, it is the little Frenchman, Pierre Lebas, who was talking so
+gaily to-night with Mr. Longcluse!
+
+The ebony haft of a dagger, sticking straight out, shows where the hand
+of the assassin planted the last stab of four, through his black satin
+waistcoat, embroidered with green leaves, red strawberries, and yellow
+flowers, which, I suppose, was one of the finest articles in the little
+wardrobe that Madame Lebas packed up for his holiday. It is not worth
+much now. It has four distinct cuts, as I have said, on the left side,
+right through it, and is soaked in blood.
+
+His pockets have been rifled. The police have found nothing in them but
+a red pocket-handkerchief and a papier-maché snuff-box. If that dumb
+mouth could speak but fifty words, what a world of conjecture it would
+end, and poor Lebas's story would be listened to as never was story of
+his before!
+
+A policeman now takes his place at the door to prevent further pressure.
+No new-comers will be admitted, except as others go out. Those outside
+are asking questions of those within, and transmitting, over their
+shoulders, particulars, eagerly repeated. On a sudden there is a
+subsidence of the buzz and gabble within, and one voice, speaking almost
+at the pitch of a shriek, is heard declaiming. White as a sheet, Mr.
+Longcluse, in high excitement, is haranguing in the smoking-room,
+mounted on a table.
+
+"I say," he cried, "gentlemen, excuse me. There are so many together
+here, so many known to be wealthy, it is an opportunity for a word.
+Things are coming to a pretty pass--garotters in our streets and
+assassins in our houses of entertainment! Here is a poor little
+fellow--look at him--here to-night to see the game, perfectly well and
+happy, murdered by some miscreant for the sake of the money he had about
+him. It might have been the fate of anyone of us. I spoke to him
+to-night. I had not seen him since I was a boy almost. Seven children
+and a wife, he told me, dependent on him. I say there are two things
+wanted--first, a reward of such magnitude as will induce exertion. I
+promise, for my own share, to put down double the amount promised by the
+highest subscriber. Secondly, something should be done for the family he
+has left, in proportion to the loss they have sustained. Upon this point
+I shall make inquiry myself. But this is plain, the danger and scandal
+have attained a pitch at which none of us who cares to walk the streets
+at night, or at any time to look in upon amusements like that we
+attended this evening, can permit them longer to stand. There is a fatal
+defect somewhere. Are our police awake and active? Very possibly; but if
+so the force is not adequate. I say this frightful scandal must be
+abated if, as citizens of London, we desire to maintain our reputation
+for common sense and energy."
+
+There was a tall thin fellow, shabbily dressed, standing nearly behind
+the door, with a long neck, and a flat mean face, slightly pitted with
+small-pox, rather pallid, who was smiling lazily, with half-closed eyes,
+as Mr. Longcluse declaimed; and when he alluded pointedly to the
+inadequacy of the police, this man's amusement improved, and he winked
+pleasantly at the clock which he was consulting at the moment with the
+corner of his eye.
+
+And now a doctor arrived, and Gabriel Laroque the watchmaker, and more
+police, with an inspector. Laroque faints when he sees his murdered
+friend. Recovered after a time, he identifies the body, identifies the
+dagger also as the property of poor Lebas.
+
+The police take the matter now quite into their hands, and clear the
+room.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VI.
+
+TO BED.
+
+
+Mr. Longcluse jumped into a cab, and told the man to drive to his house
+in Bolton Street, Piccadilly. He rolled his coat about him with a kind
+of violence, and threw himself into a corner. Then, as it were, _in
+furore_, and with a stamp on the floor, he pitched himself into the
+other corner.
+
+"I've seen to-night what I never thought I should see. What devil
+possessed me to tell him to go into that black little smoking-room?" he
+muttered. "What a room it is! It has seized my brain somehow. Am I in a
+fever, or going mad, or what? That cursed smoking-room! I can't get out
+of it. It is in the centre of the earth. I'm built round and round in
+it. The moment I begin to think, I'm in it. The moment I close my eyes,
+its four stifling walls are round me. There is no way out. It is like
+hell."
+
+The wind had come round to the south, and a soft rain was pattering on
+the windows. He stopped the cab somewhere near St. James's Street, and
+got out. It was late--it was just past two o'clock, and the streets were
+quiet. Wonderfully still was the great city at this hour, and the
+descent of the rain went on with a sound like a prolonged "hush" all
+round. He paid the man, and stood for a while on the kerbstone, looking
+up and down the street, under the downpour of the rain. You might have
+taken this millionaire for a man who knew not where to lay his head that
+night. He took off his hat, and let the refreshing rain saturate his
+hair, and stream down his forehead and temples.
+
+"Your cab's stuffy and hot, ain't it? Standing half the day with the
+glass in the sun, I daresay," said he to the man, who was fumbling in
+his pockets, and pretending a difficulty about finding change.
+
+"See, never mind, if you haven't got change; I'll go on. Heavier rain
+than I fancied; very pleasant though. When did the rain begin?" asked
+Mr. Longcluse, who seemed in no hurry to get back again.
+
+"A trifle past ten, Sir."
+
+"I say, your horse's knees are a bit broken, ain't they? Never mind, I
+don't care. He can pull you and me to Bolton Street, I daresay."
+
+"Will you please to get in, Sir?" inquired the cabman.
+
+Mr. Longcluse nodded, frowning and thinking of something else; the rain
+still descending on his bare head, his hat in his hand.
+
+The cabman thought this "cove" had been drinking and must be a trifle
+"tight." He would not mind if he stood so for a couple of hours; it
+would run his fare up to something pretty. So cabby had thoughts of
+clapping a nosebag to his horse's jaws, and was making up his mind to a
+bivouac. But Mr. Longcluse on a sudden got in, repeating his direction
+to the driver in a gay and brisk tone, that did not represent his real
+sensations.
+
+"Why should I be so disturbed at that little French fellow? Have I been
+ill, that my nerve is gone and I such a fool? One would think I had
+never seen a dead fellow till now. Better for him to be quiet than at
+his wit's ends, devising ways and means to keep his seven cubs in bread
+and butter. I should have gone away when the game was over. What earthly
+reason led me into that d----d room, when I heard the fuss there? I've a
+mind to go and play hazard, or see a doctor. Arden said he'd look in, in
+the morning. I should like that; I'll talk to Arden. I sha'n't sleep, I
+know; I can't, all night; I've got imprisoned in that suffocating room.
+Shall I ever close my eyes again?"
+
+They had now reached the door of the small, unpretending house of this
+wealthy man. The servant who opened the door, though he knew his
+business, stared a little, for he had never seen his master return in
+such a plight before, and looking so haggard.
+
+"Where's Franklin?"
+
+"Arranging things in your room, Sir."
+
+"Give me a candle. The cab is paid. Mr. Arden, mind, may call in the
+morning; if I should not be down, show him to my room. You are not to
+let him go without seeing me."
+
+Up-stairs went the pale master of the house. "Franklin!" he called, as
+he mounted the last flight of stairs, next his bed-room.
+
+"Yes, Sir."
+
+"I sha'n't want you to-night, I think--that is, I shall manage what I
+want for myself; but I mean to ring for you by-and-by." He was in his
+dressing-room by this time, and looked round to see that his comforts
+were provided for as usual--his foot-bath and hot water.
+
+"Shall I fetch your tea, Sir?"
+
+"I'll drink no tea to-night; I've been disgusted. I've seen a dead man,
+quite unexpectedly; and I sha'n't get over it for some hours, I daresay.
+I feel ill. And what you must do is this: when I ring my bell, you come
+back, and you must sit up here till eight in the morning. I shall leave
+the door between this and the next room open; and should you hear me
+sleeping uneasily, moaning, or anything like nightmare, you must come in
+and waken me. And you are not to go to sleep, mind; the moment I call, I
+expect you in my room. Keep yourself awake how you can; you may sleep
+all to-morrow, if you like."
+
+With this charge Franklin departed.
+
+But Mr. Longcluse's preparations for bed occupied a longer time than he
+had anticipated. When nearly an hour had passed, Mr. Franklin ventured
+up-stairs, and quietly approached the dressing-room door; but there he
+heard his master still busy with his preparations, and withdrew. It was
+not until nearly half-an-hour more had passed that his bell gave the
+promised signal, and Mr. Franklin established himself for the night, in
+the easy-chair in the dressing-room, with the connecting door between
+the two rooms open.
+
+Mr. Longcluse was right. The shock which his nerves had received did not
+permit him to sleep very soon. Two hours later he called for the
+Eau-de-Cologne that stood on his dressing-table; and although he made
+belief to wet his temples with it, and kept it at his bedside with that
+professed design, it was Mr. Franklin's belief that he drank the greater
+part of what remained in the capacious cut-glass bottle. It was not
+until people were beginning to "turn out" for their daily labour that
+sleep at length visited the wearied eye-balls of the Croesus.
+
+Three hours of death-like sleep, and Mr. Longcluse, with a little start,
+was wide awake.
+
+"Franklin!"
+
+"Yes, Sir." And Mr. Franklin stood at his bedside.
+
+"What o'clock is it?"
+
+"Just struck ten, Sir."
+
+"Hand me the _Times_." This was done.
+
+"Tell them to get breakfast as usual. I'm coming down. Open the
+shutters, and draw the curtains, quite."
+
+When Franklin had done this and gone down, Mr. Longcluse read the
+_Times_ with a stern eagerness, still in bed. The great billiard match
+between Hood and Markham was given in spirited detail; but he was
+looking for something else. Just under this piece of news, he found
+it--"Murder and Robbery, in the Saloon Tavern." He read this twice over,
+and then searched the paper in vain for any further news respecting it.
+After this search, he again read the short account he had seen before,
+very carefully, and more than once. Then he jumped out of bed, and
+looked at himself in the glass in his dressing-room.
+
+"How awfully seedy I am looking!" he muttered, after a careful
+inspection. "Better by-and-by."
+
+His hand was shaking like that of a man who had made a debauch, or was
+worn out with ague. He looked ten years older.
+
+"I should hardly know myself," muttered he. "What a confounded, sinful
+old fogey I look, and I so young and innocent!"
+
+The sneer was for himself and at himself. The delivery of such is an odd
+luxury which, at one time or other, most men indulge in. Perhaps it
+should teach us to take them more kindly when other people crack such
+cynical jokes on our heads, or, at least, to perceive that they don't
+always argue personal antipathy.
+
+The sour smile which had, for a moment, flickered with a wintry light on
+his face, gave place suddenly to a dark fatigue; his features sank, and
+he heaved a long, deep, and almost shuddering sigh.
+
+There are moments, happily very rare, when the idea of suicide is
+distinct enough to be dangerous, and having passed which, a man feels
+that Death has looked him very nearly in the face. Nothing more trite
+and true than the omnipresence of suffering. The possession of wealth
+exempts the unfortunate owner from, say, two-thirds of the curse that
+lies heavy on the human race. Two thirds is a great deal; but so is the
+other third, and it may have in it, at times, something as terrible as
+human nature can support.
+
+Mr. Longcluse, the millionaire, had, of course, many poor enviers. Had
+any one of all these uttered such a sigh that morning? Or did any one
+among them feel wearier of life?
+
+"When I have had my tub, I shall be quite another man," said he.
+
+But it did not give him the usual fillip; on the contrary, he felt
+rather chilled.
+
+"What can the matter be? I'm a changed man," said he, wondering, as
+people do at the days growing shorter in autumn, that time had produced
+some changes. "I remember when a scene or an excitement produced no more
+effect upon me, after the moment, than a glass of champagne; and now I
+feel as if I had swallowed poison, or drunk the cup of madness.
+Shaking!--hand, heart, every joint. I have grown such a muff!"
+
+Mr. Longcluse had at length completed his very careless toilet, and
+looking ill, went down-stairs in his dressing-gown and slippers.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VII.
+
+FAST FRIENDS.
+
+
+In little more than half-an-hour, as Mr. Longcluse was sitting at his
+breakfast in his dining-room, Richard Arden was shown in.
+
+"Dressing-gown and slippers--what a lazy dog I am compared with you!"
+said Longcluse gaily as he entered.
+
+"Don't say another word on that subject, I beg. I should have been later
+myself, had I dared; but my Uncle David had appointed to meet me at
+ten."
+
+"Won't you take something?"
+
+"Well, as I have had no breakfast, I don't mind if I do," said Arden,
+laughing.
+
+Longcluse rang the bell.
+
+"When did you leave that place last night?" asked Longcluse.
+
+"I fancy about the same time that you went--about five or ten minutes
+after the match ended. You heard there was a man murdered in a passage
+there? I tried to get down and see it but the crowd was awful."
+
+"I was more lucky--I came earlier," said Longcluse. "It was perfectly
+sickening, and I have been seedy ever since. You may guess what a shock
+it was to me. The murdered man was that poor little Frenchman I told you
+of, who had been talking to me, in high spirits, just before the play
+began--and there he was, poor fellow! You'll see it all there; it makes
+me sick."
+
+He handed him the _Times_.
+
+"Yes, I see. I daresay the police will make him out," said Arden, as he
+glanced hastily over it. "Did you remark some awfully ill-looking
+fellows there?"
+
+"I never saw so many together in a place of the kind before," said
+Longcluse.
+
+"That's a capital account of the match," said Arden, whom it interested
+more than the tragedy of poor little Lebas did. He read snatches of it
+aloud as he ate his breakfast: and then, laying the paper down, he said,
+"By-the-bye, I need not bother you by asking your advice, as I intended.
+My uncle David has been blowing me up, and I think he'll make everything
+straight. When he sends for me and gives me an awful lecture, he always
+makes it up to me afterwards."
+
+"I wish, Arden, I stood as little in need of your advice as you do, it
+seems, of mine," said Longcluse suddenly, after a short silence. His
+dark eyes were fixed on Richard Arden's. "I have been fifty times on the
+point of making a confession to you, and my heart has failed me. The
+hour is coming. These things won't wait. I must speak, Arden, soon or
+never--_very_ soon, or never. _Never_, perhaps, would be wisest."
+
+"Speak _now_, on the contrary," said Arden, laying down his knife and
+fork, and leaning back. "Now is the best time always. If it's a bad
+thing, why, it's over; and if it's a good one, the sooner we have it the
+better."
+
+Longcluse rose, looking down in meditation, and in silence walked slowly
+to the window, where, for a time, without speaking he stood in a
+reverie. Then, looking up, he said, "No man likes a crisis. 'No good
+general ever fights a pitched battle if he can help it.' Wasn't that
+Napoleon's saying? No man who has not lost his head likes to get
+together all he has on earth, and make one stake of it. I have been on
+the point of speaking to you often. I have always recoiled."
+
+"Here I am, my dear Longcluse," said Richard Arden, rising and following
+him to the window, "ready to hear you. I ought to say, only too happy if
+I can be of the least use."
+
+"Immense! everything?" said Longcluse vehemently. "And yet I don't know
+how to ask you--how to begin--so much depends. Don't you conjecture the
+subject?"
+
+"Well, perhaps I do--perhaps I don't. Give me some clue."
+
+"Have you formed no conjecture?" asked Longcluse.
+
+"Perhaps."
+
+"Is it anything in any way connected with your sister, Miss Arden?"
+
+"It may be, possibly."
+
+"Say what you think, Arden, I beseech you."
+
+"Well, I think, perhaps, you admire her."
+
+"Do I? Do I? Is that all? Would to God I could say that is all!
+Admiration, what is it?--Nothing. Love?--Nothing. Mine is adoration and
+utter madness. I have told my secret. What do you say? Do you hate me
+for it?"
+
+"Hate you, my dear fellow! Why on earth should I hate you? On the
+contrary, I ought, I think, to like you better. I'm only a little
+surprised that your feelings should so much exceed anything I could have
+supposed."
+
+"Yesterday, Arden, you spoke as if you liked me. As we drove into that
+place, I fancied you half understood me; and cheered by what you then
+said, I have spoken that which might have died with me, but for that."
+
+"Well, what's the matter? My dear Longcluse, you talk as if I had shown
+signs of wavering friendship. Have I? Quite the contrary."
+
+"Quite the contrary, that is true," said Longcluse eagerly. "Yes, you
+_should_ like me better for it--that is true also. Yours is no wavering
+friendship, I'm sure of it. Let us shake hands upon it. A treaty, Arden,
+a treaty!"
+
+With a fierce smile upon his pale face, and a sudden fire in his eyes,
+he extended his hand energetically, and took that of Arden, who answered
+the invitation with a look in which gleamed faintly something of
+amusement.
+
+"Now, Richard Arden," he continued excitedly, "you have more influence
+with Miss Arden than falls commonly to the lot of a brother. I have
+observed it. It results from her having had during her earlier years
+little society but yours, and from your being some years her senior. It
+results from her strong affection for you, from her admiration of your
+talents, and from her having neither brother nor sister to divide those
+feelings. I never yet saw brother possessed of so evident and powerful
+an influence with a sister. You must use it all for me."
+
+He continued to hold Arden's hand in his as he spoke.
+
+"You can withdraw your hand if you decline," said he. "I sha'n't
+complain. But your hand remains--you don't. It is a treaty, then.
+Henceforward we live _fædere icto_. I'm an exacting friend, but a good
+one."
+
+"My dear fellow, you do me but justice. I am your friend, altogether.
+But you must not mistake me for a guardian or a father in the matter. I
+wish I could make my sister think exactly as I do upon every subject,
+and _that_ above all others. All I can say is, in me you have a fast
+friend."
+
+Longcluse pressed his hand, which he had not relinquished, at these
+words, with a firm grasp and a quick shake.
+
+"Now listen. I must speak on this point, the one that is in my mind, my
+chief difficulty. Personally, there is not, I think, a living being in
+England who knows my history. I am glad of it, for reasons which you
+will approve by-and-by. But this is an enormous disadvantage, though
+only temporary, and the friends of the young lady must weigh my wealth
+against it for the present. But when the time comes, which can't now be
+distant, upon my honour! upon my soul!--by Heaven, I'll show you I'm of
+as good and old a family as any in England! We have been gentlemen up to
+the time of the Conqueror, here in England, and as far before him as
+record can be traced in Normandy. If I fail to show you this when the
+hour comes, stigmatise me as you will."
+
+"I have not a doubt, dear Longcluse. But you are urging a point that
+really has no weight with us people in England. We have taken off our
+hats to the gentlemen in casques and tabards, and feudal glories are at
+a discount everywhere but in Debrett, where they are taken with
+allowance. Your ideas upon these matters are more Austrian than ours. We
+expect, perhaps, a little more from the man, but certainly less from his
+ancestors than our forefathers did. So till a title turns up, and the
+heralds want them, make your mind easy on matters of pedigree, and then
+you can furnish them with effect. All I can tell you is this--there are
+hardly fifty men in England who dare tell all the truth about their
+families."
+
+"We are friends, then; and in that relation, Arden, if there are
+privileges, there are also liabilities, remember, and both extend into a
+possibly distant future."
+
+Longcluse spoke with a gloomy excitement that his companion did not
+quite understand.
+
+"That is quite true, of course," said Arden.
+
+Each was looking in the other's face for a moment, and each face grew
+suddenly dark, darker--and the whole room darkened as the air was
+overshadowed by a mass of cloud that eclipsed the sun, threatening
+thunder.
+
+"By Jove! How awfully dark in a moment!" said Arden, looking from the
+face thus suddenly overcast through the window towards the sky.
+
+"Dark as the future we were speaking of," said Longcluse, with a sad
+smile.
+
+"Dark in one sense, I mean unseen, but not darkened in the ill-omened
+sense," said Richard Arden. "I have great confidence in the future. I
+suppose I am sanguine."
+
+"I ought to be sanguine, if having been lucky hitherto should make one
+so, and yet I'm not. _My_ happiness depends on that which I cannot, in
+the least, control. Thought, action, energy, contribute nothing, and so
+I but drift, and--my heart fails me. Tell me, Arden, for Heaven's sake,
+truth--spare me nothing, conceal nothing. Let me but know it, however
+bitter. First tell me, does Miss Arden dislike me--has she an antipathy
+to me?"
+
+"Dislike you! Nonsense. How could that be? She evidently enjoys your
+society, when you are in spirits and choose to be amusing. Dislike you?
+Oh, my dear Longcluse, you can't have fancied such a thing!" said Arden.
+
+"A man placed as I am may fancy anything--things infinitely more
+unlikely. I sometimes hope she has never perceived my admiration. It
+seems strange and cruel, but I believe where a man cannot be beloved,
+nothing is so likely to make him _hated_ as his presuming to love.
+_There_ is the secret of half the tragedies we read of. The man cannot
+cease to love, and the idol of his passion not only disregards but
+insults it. It is their cruel nature; and thus the pangs of jealousy and
+the agitations of despair are heightened by a peculiar torture, the
+hardest of all hell's torture to endure."
+
+"Well, I have seen you pretty often together, and you must see there is
+nothing of that kind," said Arden.
+
+"You speak quite frankly, do you? For Heaven's sake don't spare me!"
+urged Longcluse.
+
+"I say exactly what I think. There can't be any such feeling," said
+Arden.
+
+Longcluse sighed, looked down thoughtfully, and then, raising his eyes
+again, he said--
+
+"You must answer me another question, dear Arden, and I shall, for the
+present, task your kindness no more. If you think it a fair question,
+will you promise to answer me with unsparing frankness? Let me hear the
+worst."
+
+"Certainly," answered his companion.
+
+"Does your sister like anyone in particular--is she attached to
+anyone--are her affections quite disengaged?"
+
+"So far as I am aware, certainly. She never cared for any one among all
+the people who admired her, and I am quite certain such a thing could
+not be without my observing it," answered Richard Arden.
+
+"I don't know; perhaps not," said Longcluse. "But there is a young
+friend of yours, who I thought was an admirer of Miss Arden's, and
+possibly a favoured one. You guess, I daresay, who it is I mean?"
+
+"I give you my honour I have not the least idea."
+
+"I mean an early friend of yours--a man about your own age--who has
+often been staying in Yorkshire and at Mortlake with you, and who was
+almost like a brother in your house--very intimate."
+
+"Surely you can't mean Vivian Darnley?" exclaimed Richard Arden.
+
+"I do. I mean no other."
+
+"Vivian Darnley? Why, he has hardly enough to live on, much less to
+marry on. He has not an idea of any such thing. If my father fancied
+such an absurdity possible, he would take measures to prevent his ever
+seeing her more. You could not have hit upon a more impossible man," he
+resumed, after a moment's examination of a theory which,
+notwithstanding, made him a little more uneasy than he would have cared
+to confess. "Darnley is no fool either, and I think he is a honourable
+fellow; and altogether, knowing him as I do, the thing is utterly
+incredible. And as for Alice, the idea of his imagining any such folly,
+I can undertake to say, positively never entered her mind."
+
+Here was another pause. Longcluse was again thoughtful.
+
+"May I ask one other question, which I think you will have no difficulty
+in answering?" said he.
+
+"What you please, dear Longcluse; you may command me."
+
+"Only this, how do you think Sir Reginald would receive me?"
+
+"A great deal better than he will ever receive me; with his best
+bow--no, not that, but with open arms and his brightest smile. I tell
+you, and you'll find it true, my father is a man of the world. Money
+won't, of course, do everything; but it can do a great deal. It can't
+make a vulgar man a gentleman, but it may make a gentleman anything. I
+really think you would find him a very fast friend. And now I must leave
+you, dear Longcluse. I have just time, and no more, to keep my
+appointment with old Mr. Blount, to whom my uncle commands me to go at
+twelve."
+
+"Heaven keep us both, dear Arden, in this cheating world! Heaven keep us
+true in this false London world! And God punish the first who breaks
+faith with the other!"
+
+So spoke Longcluse, taking his hand again, and holding it hard for a
+moment, with his unfathomable dark eyes on Arden. Was there a faint and
+unconscious menace in his pale face, as he uttered these words, which a
+little stirred Arden's pride?
+
+"That's a comfortable litany to part with--a form of blessing elevated
+so neatly, at the close, into a malediction. However, I don't object.
+Amen, by all means," laughed Arden.
+
+Longcluse smiled.
+
+"A malediction? I really believe it was. Something very like it, and one
+that includes myself, doesn't it? But we are not likely to earn it. An
+arrow shot into the sea, it can hurt no one. But oh, dear Arden, what
+does such language mean but suffering? What is all bitterness but pain?
+Is any mind that deserves the name ever cruel, except from misery? We
+are good friends, Arden: and if ever I seem to you for a moment other
+than friendly, just say, 'It is his heart-ache and not he that speaks.'
+Good-bye! God bless you!"
+
+At the door there was another parting.
+
+"There's a long dull day before me--say, rather, _night_; weary eyes,
+sleepless brain," murmured Longcluse, in a rather dismal soliloquy,
+standing in his slippers and dressing-gown again at the window.
+"Suspense! What a hell is in that word! Chain a man across a rail, in a
+tunnel--pleasant situation! let him listen for the faint fifing and
+drumming of the engine, miles away, not knowing whether deliverance or
+death may come first. Bad enough, that suspense. What is it to mine! I
+shall see her to-night. I shall see her, and how will it all be? Richard
+Arden wishes it--yes, he does. 'Away, slight man!' It is Brutus who says
+that, I think. Good Heaven! Think of my life--the giddy steps I go by.
+That dizzy walk by moonlight, when I lost my way in Switzerland--beautiful
+nightmare!--the two mile ledge of rock before me, narrow
+as a plank; up from my left, the sheer wall of rock; at my right
+so close that my glove might have dropped over it, the precipice; and
+curling vapour on the cliffs above, that seem about to break, and
+envelope all below in blinding mist. There is my life translated into
+landscape. It has been one long adventure--danger--fatigue. Nature is
+full of beauty--many a quiet nook in life, where peace resides; many a
+man whose path is broad and smooth. Woe to the man who loses his way on
+Alpine tracks, and is benighted!"
+
+Now Mr. Longcluse recollected himself. He had letters to read and note.
+He did this rapidly. He had business in town. He had fifty things on his
+hands; and, the day over, he would see Alice Arden again.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VIII.
+
+CONCERNING A BOOT.
+
+
+Several pairs of boots were placed in Mr. Longcluse's dressing-room.
+
+"Where are the boots that I wore yesterday?" asked he.
+
+"If you please, Sir," said Mr. Franklin, "the man called this morning
+for the right boot of that pair."
+
+"What man?" asked Mr. Longcluse, rather grimly.
+
+"Mr. Armagnac's man, Sir."
+
+"Did you desire him to call for it?" asked Mr. Longcluse.
+
+"No, Sir. I thought you must have told some one else to order him to
+send for it," said Franklin.
+
+"_I?_ You ought to know I leave those things to _you_," said Mr.
+Longcluse, staring at him more aghast and fierce than the possible
+mislaying of a boot would seem to warrant. "Did you see Armagnac's man?"
+
+"No, Sir. It was Charles who came up, at eight o'clock, when you were
+still asleep, and said the shoemaker had called for the right boot of
+the pair you wore yesterday. I had placed them outside the door, and I
+gave it him, Sir, supposing it all right."
+
+"Perhaps it _was_ all right; but you know Charles has not been a week
+here. Call him up. I'll come to the bottom of this."
+
+Franklin disappeared, and Mr. Longcluse, with a stern frown, was staring
+vaguely at the varnished boot, as if it could tell something about its
+missing companion. His brain was already at work. What the plague was
+the meaning of this manoeuvre about his boot? And why on earth, think I,
+should he make such a fuss and a tragedy about it? Charles followed Mr.
+Franklin up the stairs.
+
+"What's all this about my boot?" demanded Mr. Longcluse, peremptorily.
+"_Who_ has got it?"
+
+"A man called for it this morning, Sir."
+
+"What man?"
+
+"I think he said he came from Mr. Armagnac's, Sir."
+
+"You _think_. Say what you _know_, Sir. What _did_ he say?" said Mr.
+Longcluse, looking dangerous.
+
+"Well, Sir," said the man, mending his case, "he did say, Sir, he came
+from Mr. Armagnac's, and wanted the right boot."
+
+"What right boot?--_any_ right boot?"
+
+"No, Sir, please; the right boot of the pair you wore last night,"
+answered the servant.
+
+"And _you_ gave it to him?"
+
+"Yes, Sir, 'twas me," answered Charles.
+
+"Well, you mayn't be quite such a fool as you look. I'll sift all this
+to the bottom. You go, if you please, this moment, to Monsieur Armagnac,
+and say I should be obliged to him for a line to say whether he this
+morning sent for my boot, and got it--and I must have it back, mind;
+_you_ shall bring it back, you understand? And you had better make
+haste."
+
+"I made bold, Sir," said Mr. Franklin, "to send for it myself, when you
+sent me down for Charles; and the boy will be back, Sir, in two or three
+minutes."
+
+"Well, come you and Charles here again when the boy comes back, and
+bring him here also. I'll make out who has been playing tricks."
+
+Mr. Longcluse shut his dressing-room door sharply; he walked to the
+window, and looked out with a vicious scowl; he turned about, and lifted
+up his clenched hand, and stamped on the floor. A sudden thought now
+struck him.
+
+"The right foot? By Jove! it may not be the one."
+
+The boot that was left was already in his hand. He was examining it
+curiously.
+
+"Ay, by heaven! The right _was_ the boot! What's the meaning of this?
+Conspiracy? I should not wonder."
+
+He examined it carefully again, and flung it into its corner with
+violence.
+
+"If it's an accident, it is a very odd one. It is a suspicious accident.
+It may be, of course, all right. I daresay it _is_ all right. The odds
+are ten, twenty, a thousand to one that Armagnac has got it. I should
+have had a warm bath last night, and taken a ten miles' ride into the
+country this morning. It must be all right, and I am plaguing myself
+without a cause."
+
+Yet he took up the boot, and examined it once more; then, dropping it,
+went to the window and looked into the street--came back, opened his
+door, and listened for the messenger's return.
+
+It was not long deferred. As he heard them approach, Mr. Longcluse flung
+open his door and confronted them, in white waistcoat and shirt-sleeves,
+and with a very white and stern face--face and figure all white.
+
+"Well, what about it? Where's the boot?" he demanded, sharply.
+
+"The boy inquired, Sir," said Mr. Franklin, indicating the messenger
+with his open hand, and undertaking the office of spokesman; "and Mr.
+Armagnac did not send for the boot, Sir, and has not got it."
+
+"Oh, oh! very good. And now, Sir," he said, in rising fury, turning upon
+Charles, "what have _you_ got to say for yourself?"
+
+"The man said he came from Mr. Armagnac, please, Sir," said Charles,
+"and wanted the boot, which Mr. Franklin should have back as early as he
+could return it."
+
+"Then you gave it to a common thief with that cock-and-a-bull story, and
+you wish me to believe that you took it all for gospel. There are men
+who would pitch you over the bannisters for a less thing. If I could be
+certain of it, I'd put you beside him in the dock. But, by heavens! I'll
+come to the bottom of the whole thing yet."
+
+He shut the door with a crash, in the faces of the three men, who stood
+on the lobby.
+
+Mr. Franklin was a little puzzled at these transports, all about a boot.
+The servants looked at one another without a word. But just as they were
+going down, the dressing-room door opened, and the following dialogue
+ensued:--
+
+"See, Charles, it was you who saw and spoke with that man?" said
+Longcluse.
+
+"Yes, Sir."
+
+"Should you know him again?"
+
+"Yes, Sir, I think I should."
+
+"What kind of man was he?"
+
+"A very common person, Sir."
+
+"Was he tall or short? What sort of figure?"
+
+"Tall, Sir."
+
+"Go on; what more? Describe him."
+
+"Tall, Sir, with a long neck, and held himself straight; very flat feet,
+I noticed; a thin man, broad in the shoulders--pretty well that."
+
+"Describe his face," said Longcluse.
+
+"Nothing very particular, Sir; a shabby sort of face--a bad colour."
+
+"How?"
+
+"A bad white, Sir, and pock-marked something; a broad face and flat, and
+a very little bit of a nose; his eyes almost shut, and a sort of smile
+about his mouth, and stingy bits of red whiskers, in a curl, down each
+cheek."
+
+"How old?"
+
+"He might be nigh fifty, Sir."
+
+"Ha, ha! very good. How was he dressed?"
+
+"Black frock coat, Sir, a good deal worn; an old flowered satin
+waistcoat, worn and dirty, Sir; and a pair of raither dirty tweed
+trousers. Nothing fitted him, and his hat was brown and greasy, begging
+your parding, Sir; and he had a stick in his hand, and cotton
+gloves--a-trying to look genteel."
+
+"And he asked for the right boot?" asked Mr. Longcluse.
+
+"Yes, Sir."
+
+"You are quite sure of that? Did he take the boot without looking at it,
+or did he examine it before he took it away?"
+
+"He looked at it sharp enough, Sir, and turned up the sole, and he said
+'It's all right,' and he went away, taking it along with him."
+
+"He asked for the boot I wore yesterday, or last night--which did he
+say?" asked Mr. Longcluse.
+
+"I think it was last night he said, Sir," answered Charles.
+
+"Try to recollect yourself. Can't you be certain? Which was it?"
+
+"I think it was _last night_, Sir, he said."
+
+"It doesn't signify," said Mr. Longcluse; "I wanted to see that your
+memory was pretty clear on the subject. You seem to remember all that
+passed pretty accurately."
+
+"I recollect it perfectly well, Sir."
+
+"H'm! That will do. Franklin, you'll remember that description--let
+every one of you remember it. It is the description of a thief; and when
+you see that fellow again, hold him fast till you put him in the hands
+of a policeman. And, Charles, you must be prepared, d'ye see, to swear
+to that description; for I am going to the detective office, and I shall
+give it to the police."
+
+"Yes, Sir," answered Charles.
+
+"I sha'n't want you, Franklin; let some one call a cab."
+
+So he returned to his dressing-room, and shut the door, and
+thought--"That's the fellow whom that miserable little fool, Lebas,
+pointed out to me at the saloon last night. He watched him, he said,
+wherever he went. _I_ saw him. There may be other circumstances. That is
+the fellow--that is the very man. Here's matter to think over! By
+heaven! that fellow must be denounced, and discovered, and brought to
+justice. It is a strong case--a pretty hanging case against him. We
+shall see."
+
+Full of surmises about his lost boot, _Atra Cura_ walking unheard behind
+him, with her cold hand on his shoulder, and with the image of the
+ex-detective always gliding before or beside him, and peering with an
+odious familiarity over his shoulder into his face, Mr. Longcluse
+marched eastward with a firm tread and a cheerful countenance. Friends
+who nodded to him, as he walked along Piccadilly, down Saint James's
+Street, and by Pall Mall, citywards, thought he had just been listening
+to an amusing story. Others, who, more deferentially, saluted the great
+man as he walked lightly by Temple Bar, towards Ludgate Hill, for a
+moment perplexed themselves with the thought, "What stock is up, and
+what down, on a sudden, to-day, that Longcluse looks so radiant?"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IX.
+
+THE MAN WITHOUT A NAME.
+
+
+Mr. Longcluse had made up his mind to a certain course--a sharp and bold
+one. At the police office he made inquiry. "He understood a man had been
+lately dismissed from the force, answering to a certain description,
+which he gave them; and he wished to know whether he was rightly
+informed, because a theft had been that morning committed at his house
+by a man whose appearance corresponded, and against whom he hoped to
+have sufficient evidence."
+
+"Yes, a man like that had been dismissed from the detective department
+within the last fortnight."
+
+"What was his name?" Mr. Longcluse asked.
+
+"Paul Davies, Sir."
+
+"If it should turn out to be the same, I may have a more serious charge
+to bring against him," said Mr. Longcluse.
+
+"Do you wish to go before his worship, and give an information, Sir?"
+urged the officer, invitingly.
+
+"Not quite ripe for that yet," said Mr. Longcluse, "but it is likely
+very soon."
+
+"And what might be the nature of the more serious charge, Sir?" inquired
+the officer, insinuatingly.
+
+"I mean to give my evidence at the coroner's inquest that will be held
+to-day, on the Frenchman who was murdered last night at the Saloon
+Tavern. It is not conclusive--it does not fix anything upon him; it is
+merely inferential."
+
+"Connecting him with the murder?" whispered the man, something like
+reverence mingling with his curiosity, as he discovered the interesting
+character of his interrogator.
+
+"I can only say possibly connecting him in some way with it. Where does
+the man live?"
+
+"He did live in Rosemary Court, but he left that, I think. I'll ask, if
+you please, Sir. Tompkins--hi! You know where Paul Davies puts up. Left
+Rosemary Court?"
+
+"Yes, five weeks. He went to Gold Ring Alley, but he's left that a week
+ago, and I don't know where he is now, but will easy find him. Will it
+answer at eight this evening, Sir?"
+
+"Quite. I want a servant of mine to have a sight of him," said
+Longcluse.
+
+"If you like, Sir, to leave your address and a stamp, we'll send you the
+information by post, and save you calling here."
+
+"Thanks, yes, I'll do that."
+
+So Mr. Longcluse took his leave, and proceeded to the place where the
+coroner was sitting. Mr. Longcluse was received in that place with
+distinction. The moneyed man was honoured--eyes were gravely fixed on
+him, and respectful whispers went about. A seat was procured for him;
+and his evidence, when he came to give it, was heard with marked
+attention, and a general hush of expectation.
+
+                   *       *       *       *       *
+
+The reader, with his permission, must now pass away, seaward, from this
+smoky London, for a few minutes, into a clear air, among the rustling
+foliage of ancient trees, and the fragrance of hay-fields, and the song
+of small birds.
+
+On the London and Dover road stands, as you know, the "Royal Oak," still
+displaying its ancient signboard, where you behold King Charles II
+sitting with laudable composure, and a crown of Dutch gold on his head,
+and displaying his finery through an embrasure in the foliage, with an
+ostentation somewhat inconsiderate, considering the proximity of the
+halberts of the military emissaries in search of him to the royal
+features. As you drive towards London, it shows at the left side of the
+road, a good old substantial inn and posting-house. Its business has
+dwindled to something very small indeed, for the traffic prefers the
+rail, and the once bustling line of road is now quiet. The sun had set,
+but a reflected glow from the sky was still over everything; and by this
+somewhat lurid light Mr. Truelock, the innkeeper, was observing from the
+steps the progress of a chaise, with four horses and two postilions,
+which was driving at a furious pace down the gentle declivity about a
+quarter of a mile away, from the Dover direction towards the "Royal Oak"
+and London.
+
+"It's a runaway. Them horses has took head. What do you think, Thomas?"
+he asked of the old waiter who stood beside him.
+
+"No. See, the post-boys is whipping the hosses. No, Sir, it's a gallop,
+but no runaway."
+
+"There's luggage a' top?" said the innkeeper.
+
+"Yes, Sir, there's something," answered Tom.
+
+"I don't see nothing a-followin' them," said Mr. Truelock, shading his
+eyes with his hand as he gazed.
+
+"No--there _is_ nothing," said Tom.
+
+"They're in fear o' summat, or they'd never go at that lick," observed
+Mr. Truelock, who was inwardly conjecturing the likelihood of their
+pulling up at his door.
+
+"Lawk! _there_ was a jerk. They _was_ nigh over at the finger-post
+turn," said Tom, with a grin.
+
+And now the vehicle and the reeking horses were near. The post-boys held
+up their whips by way of signal to the "Royal Oak" people on the steps,
+and pulled up the horses with all their force before the door.
+Trembling, snorting, rolling up wreaths of steam, the exhausted horses
+stood.
+
+"See to the gentleman, will ye?" cried one of the postilions.
+
+Mr. Truelock, with the old-fashioned politeness of the English
+innkeeper, had run down in person to the carriage door, which Tom had
+opened. Master and man were a little shocked to behold inside an old
+gentleman, with a very brown, or rather a very bilious visage, thin, and
+with a high nose, who looked, as he lay stiffly back in the corner of
+the carriage, enveloped in shawls, with a velvet cap on, as if he were
+either dead or in a fit. His eyes were half open, and nothing but the
+white balls partly visible. There was a little froth at his lips. His
+mouth and delicately-formed hands were clenched, and all the furrows and
+lines of a selfish face fixed, as it seemed, in the lock of death. John
+Truelock said not a word, but peered at this visitor with a horrible
+curiosity.
+
+"If he's dead," whispered Tom in his ear, "we don't take in no dead men
+here. Ye'll have the coroner and his jury in the house, and the place
+knocked up-side down; and if ye make five pounds one way ye'll lose ten
+the tother."
+
+"Ye'll have to take him on, I'm thinkin'," said Mr. Truelock, rousing
+himself, stepping back a little, and addressing the post-boys sturdily.
+"You've no business bringin' a deceased party to my house. You must go
+somewhere else, if so be he _is_ deceased."
+
+"He's not gone dead so quick as that," said the postilion, dismounting
+from the near leader, and throwing the bridle to a boy who stood by, as
+he strutted round bandily to have a peep into the chaise. The postilion
+on the "wheeler" had turned himself about in the saddle in order to have
+a peep through the front window of the carriage. The innkeeper returned
+to the door.
+
+If the old London and Dover road had been what it once was, there would
+have been a crowd about the carriage by this time. Except, however, two
+or three servants of the "Royal Oak," who had come out to see, no one
+had yet joined the little group but the boy who was detained, bridle in
+hand, at the horse's head.
+
+"He'll not be dead yet," repeated the postilion dogmatically.
+
+"What happened him?" asked Mr. Truelock.
+
+"I don't know," answered the post-boy.
+
+"Then how can you say whether he be dead or no?" demanded the innkeeper.
+
+"Fetch me a pint of half-and-half," said the dismounted post-boy, aside,
+to one of the "Royal Oak" people at his elbow.
+
+"We was just at this side of High Hixton," said his brother in the
+saddle, "when he knocked at the window with his stick, and I got a cove
+to hold the bridle, and I came round to the window to him. He had scarce
+any voice in him, and looked awful bad, and he said he thought he was
+a-dying. 'And how far on is the next inn?' he asked; and I told him the
+'Royal Oak' was two miles; and he said, 'Drive like lightning, and I'll
+give you half a guinea a-piece'--I hope he's not gone dead--'if you get
+there in time.'"
+
+By this time their heads were in the carriage again.
+
+"Do you notice a sort of a little jerk in his foot, just the least thing
+in the world?" inquired the landlord, who had sent for the doctor. "It
+will be a fit, after all. If he's living, we'll fetch him into the
+'ouse."
+
+The doctor's house was just round the corner of the road, where the
+clump of elms stands, little more than a hundred yards from the sign of
+the "Royal Oak."
+
+"Who is he?" inquired Mr. Truelock.
+
+"I don't know," answered the postilion.
+
+"What's his name?"
+
+"Don't know that, neither."
+
+"Why, it'll be on that box, won't it?" urged the innkeeper, pointing to
+the roof, where a portmanteau with a glazed cover was secured.
+
+"Nothing on that but 'R. A.,'" answered the man, who had examined it
+half an hour before, with the same object.
+
+"Royal Artillery, eh?"
+
+While they were thus conjecturing, the doctor arrived. He stepped into
+the chaise, felt the old man's hand, tried his pulse, and finally
+applied the stethoscope.
+
+"It is a nervous seizure. He is in a very exhausted state," said the
+doctor, stepping out again, and addressing Truelock. "You must get him
+into bed, and don't let his head down; take off his handkerchief, and
+open his shirt-collar--do you mind? I had best arrange him myself."
+
+So the forlorn old man, without a servant, without a name, is carried
+from the chaise, possibly to die in an inn.
+
+The Rev. Peter Sprott, the rector, passing that way a few minutes later,
+and hearing what had befallen, went up to the bed-room, where the old
+gentleman lay in a four-poster, still unconscious.
+
+"Here's a case," said the doctor to his clerical friend. "A nervous
+attack. He'd be all right in no time, but he's so low. I daresay he
+crossed the herring-pond to-day, and was ill; he's in such an exhausted
+state. I should not wonder if he sank; and here we are, without a clue
+to his name or people. No servant, no name on his trunk; and, certainly,
+it would be awkward if he died unrecognised, and without a word to
+apprise his relations."
+
+"Is there no letter in his pockets?"
+
+"Not one," Truelock says.
+
+The rector happened to take up the great-coat of the old gentleman, in
+which he found a small breast pocket, that had been undiscovered till
+now, and in this a letter. The envelope was gone, but the letter, in a
+lady's hand began: "My dearest papa."
+
+"We are all right, by Jove, we're in luck!"
+
+"How does she sign herself?" said the doctor.
+
+"'Alice Arden,' and she dates from 8, Chester Terrace," answered the
+clergyman.
+
+"We'll telegraph forthwith," said the doctor. "It had best be in your
+name--the clergyman, you know--to a young lady."
+
+So together they composed the telegram.
+
+"Shall it be _ill_ simply, or _dangerously_ ill?" inquired the
+clergyman.
+
+"Dangerously," said the doctor.
+
+"But _dangerously_ may terrify her."
+
+"And if we say only _ill_, she mayn't come at all," said the doctor.
+
+So the telegram was placed in Truelock's hands, who went himself with it
+to the office; and we shall follow it to its destination.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER X.
+
+THE ROYAL OAK.
+
+
+Three people were sitting in Lady May Penrose's drawing-room, in Chester
+Terrace, the windows of which, as all her ladyship's friends are aware,
+command one of the parks. They were looking westward, where the sky was
+all a-glow with the fantastic gold and crimson of sunset. It is quite a
+mistake to fancy that sunset, even in the heart of London--which this
+hardly could be termed--has no rural melancholy and poetic fascination
+in it. Should that hour by any accident overtake you, in the very centre
+of the city, looking, say, from an upper window, or any other elevation
+toward the western sky beyond stacks of chimneys, roofs, and steeples,
+even through the smoke of London, you will feel the melancholy and
+poetry of sunset, in spite of your surroundings.
+
+A little silence had stolen over the party; and young Vivian Darnley,
+who stole a glance now and then at beautiful Alice Arden, whose large,
+dark, grey eyes were gazing listlessly towards the splendid mists, that
+were piled in the west, broke the silence by a remark that, without
+being very wise, or very new, was yet, he hoped, quite in accord with
+the looks of the girl, who seemed for a moment saddened.
+
+"I wonder why it is that sunset, which is so beautiful, makes us all
+sad!"
+
+"It never made me sad," said good Lady May Penrose, comfortably. "There
+is, I think, something very pleasant in a good sunset; there _must_ be,
+for all the little birds begin to sing in it--it must be cheerful. Don't
+you think so, Alice?"
+
+Alice was, perhaps, thinking of something quite different, for rather
+listlessly, and without a change of features, she said, "Oh, yes, very."
+
+"So, Mr. Darnley, you may sing, 'Oh, leave me to my sorrow!' for we
+won't mope with you about the sky. It is a very odd taste, that for
+being dolorous and miserable. I don't understand it--I never could."
+
+Thus rebuked by Lady Penrose, and deserted by Alice, Darnley laughed and
+said--
+
+"Well, I do seem rather to have put my foot in it--but I did not mean
+miserable, you know; I meant only that kind of thing that one feels when
+reading a bit of really good poetry--and most people do not think it a
+rather pleasant feeling."
+
+"Don't mind that moping creature, Alice; let us talk about something we
+can all understand. I heard a bit of news to-day--perhaps, Mr. Darnley,
+you can throw a light upon it. You are a distant relation, I think, of
+Mr. David Arden."
+
+"Some very remote cousinship, of which I am very proud," answered the
+young man gaily, with a glance at Alice.
+
+"And what is that--what about uncle David?" inquired the young lady,
+with animation.
+
+"I heard it from my banker to-day. Your uncle, you know, dear, despises
+us and our doings, and lives, I understand, very quietly; I mean, he has
+chosen to live quite out of the world, so we have no chance of hearing
+anything except by accident, from people we are likely to know. Do you
+see much of your uncle, my dear?"
+
+"Not a great deal; but I am very fond of him--he is such a good man, or
+at least, what is better," she laughed, "he has always been so very kind
+to me."
+
+"You know him, Mr. Darnley?" inquired Lady May.
+
+"By Jove, I do!"
+
+"And like him?"
+
+"No one on earth has better reason to like him," answered the young man
+warmly--"he has been my best friend on earth."
+
+"It is pleasant to know two people who are not ashamed to be grateful,"
+said fat Lady May, with a smile.
+
+The young lady returned her smile very kindly. I don't think you ever
+beheld a prettier creature than Alice Arden. Vivian Darnley had wasted
+many a secret hour in sketching that oval face. Those large, soft, grey
+eyes, and long dark lashes, how difficult they are to express! And the
+brilliant lips! Could art itself paint anything quite like her? Who
+could paint those beautiful dimples that made her smiles so soft, or
+express the little circlet of pearly teeth whose tips were just
+disclosed? Stealthily he was now, for the thousandth time, studying that
+bewitching smile again.
+
+"And what is the story about Uncle David?" asked Alice again.
+
+"Well, what will you say--and you, Mr. Darnley, if it should be a story
+about a young lady?"
+
+"Do you mean that Uncle David is going to marry? I think it would be an
+awful pity!" exclaimed Alice.
+
+"Well, dear, to put you out of pain, I'll tell you at once; I only know
+this--that he is going to provide for her somehow, but whether by
+adopting her as a child, or taking her for a wife, I can't tell. Only I
+never saw any one looking archer than Mr. Brounker did to-day when he
+told me; and I fancied from that it could not be so dull a business as
+merely making her his daughter."
+
+"And who is the young lady?" asked Alice.
+
+"Did you ever happen to meet anywhere a Miss Grace Maubray?"
+
+"Oh, yes," answered Alice quickly. "She was staying, and her father,
+Colonel Maubray, at the Wymerings' last autumn. She's quite lovely, I
+think, and very clever--but I don't know--I think she's a little
+ill-natured, but very amusing. She seems to have a talent for cutting
+people up--and a little of that kind of thing, you know, is very well,
+but one does not care for it _always_. And is she really the young
+lady?"
+
+"Yes, and---- Dear me! Mr. Darnley, I'm afraid my story has alarmed
+you."
+
+"Why should it?" laughed Vivian Darnley, partly to cover, perhaps, a
+little confusion.
+
+"I can't tell, I'm sure, but you blushed as much as a man can; and you
+know you did. I wonder, Alice, what this under-plot can be, where all is
+so romantic. Perhaps, after all, Mr. David Arden is to adopt the young
+lady, and some one else, to whom he is also kind, is to marry her. Don't
+you think that would be a very natural arrangement?"
+
+Alice laughed, and Darnley laughed; but he was embarrassed.
+
+"And Colonel Maubray, is he still living?" asked Alice.
+
+"Oh, no, dear; he died ten or eleven months ago. A very foolish man, you
+know; he wasted a very good property. He was some distant relation,
+also; Mr. Brounker said your uncle, Mr. David Arden, was very much
+attached to him--they were schoolfellows, and great friends all their
+lives."
+
+"I should not wonder," said Alice smiling--and then became silent.
+
+"Do you know the young lady, this fortunate Miss Maubray?" said Lady
+May, turning to Vivian Darnley again.
+
+"I? Yes--that is, I can't say more than a mere acquaintance--and not an
+old one. I made her acquaintance at Mr. Arden's house. He is her
+guardian. I don't know about any other arrangements. I daresay there may
+be."
+
+"Well, I know her a little, also," said Lady May. "I thought her
+pretty--and she sings a little, and she's clever."
+
+"She's all that," said Alice. "Oh, here comes Dick! What do you say,
+Richard--is not Miss Maubray very pretty? We are making a plot to marry
+her to Vivian Darnley, and get Uncle David to contribute her _dot_."
+
+"What benevolent people! _You_ don't object, I dare say, Vivian."
+
+"I have not been consulted," said he; "and, of course, Uncle David need
+not be consulted, as he has simply to transfer the proper quantity of
+stock."
+
+Richard Arden had drawn near Lady May, and said a few words in a low
+tone, which seemed not unwelcome to her.
+
+"I saw Longcluse this morning. He has not been here, has he?" he added,
+as a little silence threatened the conversation.
+
+"No, he has not turned up. And what a charming person he is!" exclaimed
+Lady May.
+
+"I quite agree with you, Lady May," said Arden. "He is, take him on
+every subject, I think, about the cleverest fellow I ever met--art,
+literature, games, _chess_, which I take to be a subject by itself. He
+is very great at chess--for an amateur, I mean--and when I was
+chess-mad, nearly a year ago and beginning to grow conceited, he opened
+my eyes, I can tell you; and Airly says he is the best musical critic in
+England, and can tell you at any hour who is who in the opera, all over
+Europe; and he really understands, what so few of us here know anything
+about, foreign politics, and all the people and their stories and
+scandals he has at his fingers' ends. And he is such good company, when
+he chooses, and such a gentleman always!"
+
+"He is very agreeable and amusing when he takes the trouble; I always
+like to listen when Mr. Longcluse talks," said Alice Arden, to the
+secret satisfaction of her brother, whose enthusiasm was, I think,
+directed a good deal to her--and to, perhaps, the vexation of other
+people, whom she did not care at that moment to please.
+
+"An Admirable Crichton!" murmured Vivian Darnley, with a rather
+hackneyed sneer. "Do you like his style of--_beauty_, I suppose I should
+call it? It has the merit of being very uncommon, at least, don't you
+think?"
+
+"Beauty, I think, matters very little. He has no beauty, but his face
+has what, in a man, I think a great deal better--I mean refinement, and
+cleverness, and a kind of satire that rather interests one," said Miss
+Arden, with animation.
+
+Sir Walter Scott, in his "Rob Roy"--thinking, no doubt, of the Diana
+Vernon of his early days, the then beautiful lady, long afterwards
+celebrated by Basil Hall as the old Countess Purgstorf (if I rightly
+remember the title), and recurring to some cherished incident, and the
+thrill of a pride that had ceased to agitate, but was at once pleasant
+and melancholy to remember--wrote these words: "She proceeded to read
+the first stanza, which was nearly to the following purpose. [Then
+follow the verses.] 'There is a great deal of it,' said she, glancing
+along the paper, and interrupting the sweetest sounds that mortal ears
+can drink in--those of a youthful poet's verses, namely, read by the
+lips which are dearest to them." So writes Walter Scott. On the other
+hand, in certain states, is there a pain intenser than that of listening
+to the praises of another man from the lips we love?
+
+"Well," said Darnley, "as you say so, I suppose there is all that,
+though I can't see it. Of course, if he tries to make himself agreeable
+(which he never does to me), it makes a difference, it affects
+everything--it affects even his looks. But I should not have thought him
+good-looking. On the contrary, he appears to me about as ugly a fellow
+as one could see in a day."
+
+"He's not that," said Alice. "No one could be ugly with so much
+animation and so much expression."
+
+"You take up the cudgels very prettily, my dear, for Mr. Longcluse,"
+said Lady May. "I'm sure he ought to be extremely obliged to you."
+
+"So he would be," said Richard Arden. "It would upset him for a week, I
+have no doubt."
+
+There are few things harder to interpret than a blush. At these words
+the beautiful face of Alice Arden flushed, first with a faint, and then,
+as will happen, with a brighter crimson. If Lady May had seen it, she
+would have laughed, probably, and told her how much it became her. But
+she was, at that moment, going to her chair in the window, and Richard
+Arden would, of course, accompany her. He did see it, as distinctly as
+he saw the glow in the sky over the park trees. But, knowing what a
+slight matter will sometimes make a recoil, and even found an antipathy,
+he wisely chose to see it not--and chatting gaily, followed Lady May to
+the window.
+
+But Vivian Darnley, though he said nothing, saw that blush, of which
+Alice, with a sort of haughty defiance, was conscious. It did not make
+him like or admire Mr. Longcluse more.
+
+"Well, I suppose he is very charming--I don't know him well enough
+myself to give an opinion. But he makes his acquaintances rather oddly,
+doesn't he? I don't think any one will dispute that."
+
+"I don't know really. Lady May introduced him to me, and she seems to
+like him very much. So far as I can see, people are very well pleased at
+knowing him, and don't trouble their heads as to how it came about,"
+said Miss Arden.
+
+"No, of course; but people not fortunate enough to come within the
+influence of his fascination, can't help observing. How did he come to
+know your brother, for instance? Did any one introduce him? Nothing of
+the kind. Richard's horse was hurt or lame at one of the hunts in
+Warwickshire, and he lent him a horse, and introduced himself, and they
+dined together that evening on the way back, and so the thing was done."
+
+"Can there be a better introduction than a kindness?" asked Alice.
+
+"Yes, where it _is_ a kindness, I agree; but no one has a right to push
+his services upon a stranger who does not ask for them."
+
+"I really can't see. Richard need not have taken his horse if he had not
+liked," she answered.
+
+"And Lady May, who thinks him such a paragon, knows no more about him
+than any one else. She had her footman behind her--didn't she tell you
+all about it?"
+
+"I really don't recollect; but does it very much matter?"
+
+"I think it does--that is, it has been a sort of system. He just gave
+her his arm over a crossing, where she had taken fright, and then
+pretended to think her a great deal more frightened than she really can
+have been, and made her sit down to recover in a confectioner's shop,
+and so saw her home, and _that_ affair was concluded. I don't say, of
+course, that he is never introduced in the regular way; but a year or
+two ago, when he was beginning, he always made his approaches by means
+of that kind of stratagem; and the fact is, no one knows anything on
+earth about him; he has emerged, like a figure in a phantasmagoria, from
+total darkness, and may lose himself in darkness again at any moment."
+
+"I am interested in that man, whoever he is; his entrance, and his
+probable exit, so nearly resemble mine," said a clear, deep-toned voice
+close to them; and looking up, Miss Arden saw the pale face and peculiar
+smile of Mr. Longcluse in the fading twilight.
+
+Mr. Longcluse was greeted by Lady May and by Richard Arden, and then
+again he drew near Alice, and said, "Do you recollect, Miss Arden, about
+ten days ago I told you a story that seemed to interest you--the story
+of a young and eloquent friar, who died of love in his cell in an abbey
+in the Tyrol, and whose ghost used to be seen pensively leaning on the
+pulpit from which he used to preach, too much thinking of the one
+beautiful face among his audience, which had enthralled him. I had left
+the enamel portrait I told you of at an artist's in Paris, and I wrote
+for it, thinking you might wish to see it--hoping you might care to see
+it," he added, in a lower tone, observing that Vivian Darnley, who was
+not in a happy temper, had, with a sudden impulse of disdain, removed
+himself to another window, there to contemplate the muster of the stars
+in the darkening sky, at his leisure.
+
+"That was so kind of you, Mr. Longcluse! You have had a great deal of
+trouble. It _is_ such an interesting story!" said Alice.
+
+In his reception, Mr. Longcluse found something that pleased, almost
+elated him. Had Richard Arden been speaking to her on the subject of
+their morning's conversation? He thought not, Lady May had mentioned
+that he had not been with them till just twenty minutes ago, and Arden
+had told him that he had dined with his uncle David and Mr. Blount, upon
+the same business on which he had been occupied with both nearly all
+day. No, he could not have spoken to her. The slight change which made
+him so tumultuously proud and happy, was entirely spontaneous.
+
+"So it seemed to me--an eccentric and interesting story--but pray do not
+wound me by speaking of trouble. I only wish you knew half the pleasure
+it has been to me to get it to show you. May I hold the lamp near for a
+moment while you look at it?" he said, indicating a tiny lamp which
+stood on a pier-table, showing a solitary gleam, like a lighthouse,
+through the gloom; "you could not possibly see it in this faint
+twilight."
+
+The lady assented. Had Mr. Longcluse ever felt happier?
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XI.
+
+THE TELEGRAM ARRIVES.
+
+
+Mr. Longcluse placed the little oval enamel, set in gold, in Miss
+Arden's fingers, and held the lamp beside her while she looked.
+
+"How beautiful!--how very interesting!" she exclaimed. "What suffering
+in those thin, handsome features! What a strange enthusiasm in those
+large hazel eyes! I could fancy that monk the maddest of lovers, the
+most chivalric of saints. And did he really suffer that incredible fate?
+Did he really die of love?"
+
+"So they say. But why incredible? I can quite imagine that wild
+shipwreck, seeing what a raging sea love is, and how frail even the
+strongest life."
+
+"Well, I can't say, I am sure. But your own novelists laugh at the idea
+of any but women--whose business it is, of course, to pay that tribute
+to their superiors--dying of love. But if any man could die such a
+death, he must be such as this picture represents. What a wild, agonised
+picture of passion and asceticism! What suicidal devotion and melancholy
+rapture! I confess I could almost fall in love with that picture
+myself."
+
+"And I think, were I he, I could altogether die to earn one such
+sentence, so spoken," said Mr. Longcluse.
+
+"Could you lend it to me for a very few days?" asked the young lady.
+
+"As many--as long as you please. I am only too happy."
+
+"I should so like to make a large drawing of this in chalks!" said
+Alice, still gazing on the miniature.
+
+"You draw so beautifully in chalks! Your style is not often found
+here--your colouring is so fine."
+
+"Do you really think so?"
+
+"You must know it, Miss Arden. You are too good an artist not to suspect
+what everyone else must see, the real excellence of your drawings. Your
+colouring is better understood in France. Your master, I fancy, was a
+Frenchman?" said Mr. Longcluse.
+
+"Yes, he was, and we got on very well together. Some of his young lady
+pupils were very much afraid of him."
+
+"Your poetry is fired by that picture, Miss Arden. Your copy will be a
+finer thing than the original," said he.
+
+"I shall aim only at making it a faithful copy; and if I can accomplish
+anything like that, I shall be only too glad."
+
+"I hope you will allow me to see it?" pleaded Longcluse.
+
+"Oh, certainly," she laughed. "Only I'm a little afraid of you, Mr.
+Longcluse."
+
+"What can you mean, Miss Arden?"
+
+"I mean, you are so good a critic in art, every one says, that I really
+_am_ afraid of you," answered the young lady, laughing.
+
+"I should be very glad to forfeit any little knowledge I have, if it
+were attended with such a misfortune," said Longcluse. "But I don't
+flatter; I tell you truly, a critic has only to admire, when he looks at
+your drawings; they are quite above the level of an amateur's work."
+
+"Well, whether you mean it or not, I _am_ very much flattered," she
+laughed. "And though wise people say that flattery spoils one, I can't
+help thinking it very agreeable to be flattered."
+
+At this point of the dialogue Mr. Vivian Darnley--who wished that it
+should be plain to all, and to one in particular, that he did not care
+the least what was going on in other parts of the room--began to stumble
+through the treble of a tune at the piano with his right hand. And
+whatever other people may have thought of his performance, to Miss Alice
+Arden it seemed very good music indeed, and inspired her with fresh
+animation. Such as it was, Mr. Darnley's solo also turned the course of
+Miss Arden's thoughts from drawing to another art, and she said--
+
+"You, Mr. Longcluse, who know everything about the opera, can you tell
+me--of course you can--anything about the great basso who is coming?"
+
+"Stentoroni?"
+
+"Yes; the newspapers and critics promise wonders."
+
+"It is nearly two years since I heard him. He was very great, and
+deserves all they say in 'Robert le Diable.' But there his greatness
+began and ended. The voice, of course, you had, but everything else was
+defective. It is plain, however, that the man who could make so fine a
+study of one opera, could with equal labour make as great a success in
+others. He has not sung in any opera for more than a year and a half,
+and has been working diligently; and so everyone is in the dark very
+much, and I am curious to hear the result--and nobody knows more than I
+have told you. You are sure of a good 'Robert le Diable,' but all the
+rest is speculation."
+
+"And now, Mr. Longcluse, I shall try your good-nature."
+
+"How?"
+
+"I am going to make Lady May ask you to sing a song."
+
+"Pray don't."
+
+"Why not?"
+
+"I should so much rather you asked me yourself."
+
+"That's very good of you; then I certainly shall. I _do_ ask you."
+
+"And I instantly obey. And what shall the song be?" asked he,
+approaching the piano, to which she also walked.
+
+"Oh, that ghostly one that I liked so much when you sang it here about a
+week ago," she answered.
+
+"I know it--yes, with pleasure." And he sat down at the piano, and in a
+clear, rich baritone, sang the following odd song:--
+
+    "The autumn leaf was falling
+       At midnight from the tree,
+     When at her casement calling,
+       'I'm here, my love,' says he.
+     'Come down and mount behind me,
+       And rest your little head,
+     And in your white arms wind me,
+       Before that I be dead.
+
+    "'You've stolen my heart by magic,
+       I've kissed your lips in dreams:
+     Our wooing wild and tragic
+       Has been in ghostly scenes.
+     The wondrous love I bear you
+       Has made one life of twain,
+     And it will bless or scare you,
+       In deathless peace or pain.
+
+    "'Our dreamland shall be glowing,
+       If you my bride will be;
+     To darkness both are going,
+       Unless you come with me.
+     Come now, and mount behind me,
+       And rest your little head,
+     And in your white arms wind me,
+       Before that I be dead.'"
+
+"Why, dear Alice, will you choose that dismal song, when you know that
+Mr. Longcluse has so many others that are not only charming, but cheery
+and natural?"
+
+"It is because it is _un_natural that I like that song so much; the air
+is so ominous and spectral, and yet so passionate. I think the idea is
+Icelandic--those ghostly lovers that came in the dark to win their
+beloved maidens, who as yet knew nothing of their having died, to ride
+with them over the snowy fields and frozen rivers, to join their friends
+at a merry-making which they were never to see; but there is something
+more mysterious even in this lover, for his passion has unearthly
+beginnings that lose themselves in utter darkness. Thank you very much,
+Mr. Longcluse. It is so very kind of you! And now, Lady May, isn't it
+your turn to choose? May she choose, Mr. Longcluse?"
+
+"Any one, if you desire it, may choose anything I possess, and have it,"
+said he, in a low impassioned murmur.
+
+How the young lady would have taken this, I know not, but all were
+suddenly interrupted. For at this moment a servant entered with a note,
+which he presented, upon a salver, to Mr. Longcluse.
+
+"Your servant is waiting, Sir, please, for orders in the awl," murmured
+the man.
+
+"Oh, yes--thanks," said Mr. Longcluse, who saw a shabby letter, with the
+words "Private" and "Immediate" written in a round, vulgar hand over the
+address.
+
+"Pray read your note, Mr. Longcluse, and don't mind us," said Lady May.
+
+"Thank you very much. I think I know what this is. I gave some evidence
+to-day at an inquest," began Mr. Longcluse.
+
+"That wretched Frenchman," interposed Lady May, "Monsieur Lebrun or----"
+
+"Lebas," said Vivian Darnley.
+
+"Yes, so it was, Lebas; what a frightful thing that was!" continued Lady
+May, who was always well up in the day's horrors.
+
+"Very melancholy, and very alarming also. It is a selfish way of looking
+at it, but one can't help thinking it might just as well have happened
+to any one else who was there. It brings it home to one a little
+uncomfortably," said Mr. Longcluse, with an uneasy smile and a shrug.
+
+"And you actually gave evidence, Mr. Longcluse?" said Lady May.
+
+"Yes, a little," he answered. "It may lead to something. I hope so. As
+yet it only indicates a line of inquiry. It will be in the papers, I
+suppose, in the morning. There will be, I daresay, a pretty full report
+of that inquest."
+
+"Then you saw something occur that excited your suspicions?" said Lady
+May.
+
+Mr. Longcluse recounted all he had to tell, and mentioned having made
+inquiries as to the present abode of the man, Paul Davies, at the police
+office.
+
+"And this note, I daresay, is the one they promised to send me, telling
+the result of their inquiries," he added.
+
+"Pray open it and see," said Lady May.
+
+He did so. He read it in silence. From his foot to the crown of his head
+there crept a cold influence as he read. Stream after stream, this
+_aura_ of fear spread upwards to his brain. Pale Mr. Longcluse shrugged
+and smiled, and smiled and shrugged, as his dark eye ran down the lines,
+and with a careless finger he turned the page over. He smiled, as
+prizefighters smile for the spectators, while every nerve quivered with
+pain. He looked up, smiling still, and thrust the note into his
+breast-pocket.
+
+"Well, Mr. Longcluse, a long note it seems to have been," said Lady May,
+curiously.
+
+"Not very long, but what is as bad, very illegible," said Mr. Longcluse
+gaily.
+
+"And what about the man--the person the police were to have inquired
+after?" she persisted.
+
+"I find it is no police information, nothing of the kind," answered
+Longcluse with the same smile. "It comes by no means from one of that
+long-headed race of men; on the contrary, poor fellow, I believe he is
+literally a little mad. I make him a trifling present every Christmas,
+and that is a very good excuse for his plaguing me all the year round. I
+was in hopes this letter might turn out an amusing one, but it is not;
+it is a failure. It is rather sensible, and disgusting."
+
+"Well, then, I must have my song, Mr. Longcluse," said Lady May, who,
+under cover of music, sometimes talked a little, in gentle murmurs, to
+that person with whom talk was particularly interesting.
+
+But that song was not to be heard in Lady May's drawing-room that night,
+for a kindred interruption, though much more serious in its effects upon
+Mr. Longcluse's companions, occurred. A footman entered, and presented
+on a salver a large brown envelope to Miss Alice Arden.
+
+"Oh, dear! It is a telegram," exclaimed Miss Arden, who had taken it to
+the window. Lady May Penrose was beside her by this time. Alice looked
+on the point of fainting.
+
+"I'm afraid papa is very ill," she whispered, handing the paper, which
+trembled very much in her hand, to Lady May.
+
+"H'm! Yes--but you may be sure it's exaggerated. Bring some sherry and
+water, please. You look a little frightened, my dear. Sit down, darling.
+There now! These messages are always written in a panic. What do you
+mean to do?"
+
+"I'll go, of course," said Alice.
+
+"Well, yes--I think you must go. What is the place? Twyford, the 'Royal
+Oak?' Look out Twyford, please Mr. Darnley--there's a book there. It
+must be a post-town. It was thoughtful saying it is on the Dover coach
+road."
+
+Vivian Darnley was gazing in deep concern at Alice. Instantly he began
+turning over the book, and announced in a few moments more--"It is a
+post-town--only thirty-six miles from London," said Mr. Darnley.
+
+"Thanks," said Lady May. "Oh, here's the wine--I'm so glad! You must
+have a little, dear; and you'll take Louisa Diaper with you, of course;
+and you shall have one of my carriages, and I'll send a servant with
+you, and he'll arrange everything; and how soon do you wish to go?"
+
+"Immediately, instantly--thanks, darling. I'm _so_ much obliged!"
+
+"Will your brother go with you?"
+
+"No, dear. Papa, you know, has not forgiven him, and it is, I think, two
+years since they met. It would only agitate him."
+
+And with these words she hurried to her room, and in another moment,
+with the aid of her maid, was completing her hasty preparations.
+
+In wonderfully little time the carriage was at the door. Mr. Longcluse
+had taken his leave. So had Richard Arden, with the one direction to the
+servant, "If anything should go _very_ wrong, be sure to telegraph for
+me. Here is my address."
+
+"Put this in your purse, dear," said Lady May. "Your father is so
+thoughtless, he may not have brought money enough with him; and you will
+find it is as I say--he'll be a great deal better by the time you get
+there; and God bless you, my dear."
+
+And she kissed her as heartily as she dared, without communicating the
+rouge and white powder which aided her complexion.
+
+As Alice ran down, Vivian Darnley awaited her outside the drawing-room
+door, and ran down with her, and put her into the carriage. He leaned
+for a moment on the window, and said--
+
+"I hope you didn't mind that nonsense Lady May was talking just now
+about Miss Grace Maubray. I assure you it is utter folly. I was awfully
+vexed; but you didn't believe it?"
+
+"I didn't hear her say anything, at least seriously. Wasn't she
+laughing? I'm in such trouble about that message! I am so longing to be
+at my journey's end!"
+
+He took her hand and pressed it, and the carriage drove away. And
+standing on the steps, and quite forgetting the footman close behind
+him, he watched it as it drove rapidly southward, until it was quite out
+of sight, and then with a great sigh and "God for ever bless
+you!"--uttered not above his breath--he turned about, and saw those
+powdered and liveried effigies, and walked up with his head rather high
+to the drawing-room, where he found Lady May.
+
+"I sha'n't go to the opera to-night; it is out of the question," said
+she. "But _you_ shall. You go to my box, you know; Jephson will put you
+in there."
+
+It was plain that the good-natured soul was unhappy about Alice, and,
+Richard Arden having departed, wished to be alone. So Vivian took his
+leave, and went away--but not to the opera--and sauntered for an hour,
+instead, in a melancholy romance up and down the terrace, till the moon
+rose and silvered the trees in the park.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XII.
+
+SIR REGINALD ARDEN.
+
+
+The human mind being, in this respect, of the nature of a kaleidoscope,
+that the slightest hitch, or jolt, or tremor is enough to change the
+entire picture that occupies it, it is not to be supposed that the
+illness of her father, alarming as it was, could occupy Alice Arden's
+thoughts to the exclusion of every other subject, during every moment of
+her journey. One picture, a very pretty one, frequently presented
+itself, and always her heart felt a strange little pain as this pretty
+phantom appeared. It was the portrait of a young girl, with fair golden
+hair, a brilliant complexion, and large blue eyes, with something
+_riant_, triumphant, and arch to the verge of mischief, in her animated
+and handsome face.
+
+The careless words of good Lady May, this evening, and the very obvious
+confusion of Vivian Darnley at mention of the name of Grace Maubray,
+troubled her. What was more likely than that Uncle David, interested in
+both, should have seriously projected the union which Lady May had gaily
+suggested? If she--Alice Arden--liked Vivian Darnley, it was not very
+much, her pride insisted. In her childhood they had been thrown
+together. He had seemed to like her; but had he ever spoken? Why was he
+silent? Was she fool enough to like him?--that cautious, selfish young
+man, who was thinking, she was quite certain now, of a marriage of
+prudence or ambition with Grace Maubray? It was a cold, cruel, sordid
+world!
+
+But, after all, why should he have spoken? or why should he have hoped
+to be heard with favour? She had been to him, thank Heaven, just as any
+other pleasant, early friend. There was nothing to regret--nothing
+fairly to blame. It was just that a person whom she had come to regard
+as a property was about to go, and belong quite, to another. It was the
+foolish little jealousy that everyone feels, and that means nothing. So
+she told herself; but constantly recurred the same pretty image, and
+with it the same sudden little pain at her heart.
+
+But now came the other care. As time and space shorten, and the moment
+of decision draws near, the pain of suspense increases. They were within
+six miles of Twyford. Her heart was in a wild flutter--now throbbing
+madly, now it seemed standing still. The carriage window was down. She
+was looking out on the scenery--strange to her--all bright and serene
+under a brilliant moon. What message awaited her at the inn to which
+they were travelling at this swift pace? How frightful it might be!
+
+"Oh, Louisa!" she every now and then imploringly cried to her maid, "how
+do you think it will be? Oh! how will it be? Do you think he'll be
+better? Oh! do you think he'll be better? Tell me again about his other
+illness, and how he recovered? Don't you think he will this time? Oh,
+Louisa, darling! don't you think so? Tell me--_tell_ me you do!"
+
+Thus, in her panic, the poor girl wildly called for help and comfort,
+until at last the carriage turned a curve in the road at which stood a
+shadowy clump of elms, and in another moment the driver pulled up under
+the sign of the "Royal Oak."
+
+"Oh, Louisa! Here it is," cried the young lady, holding her maid's wrist
+with a trembling grasp.
+
+The inn-door was shut, but there was light in the hall, and light in an
+upper room.
+
+"Don't knock--only ring the bell. He may be asleep, God grant!" said the
+young lady.
+
+The door was quickly opened, and a waiter ran down to the carriage
+window, where he saw a pair of large wild eyes, and a very pale face,
+and heard the question--"An old gentlemen has been ill here, and a
+telegram was sent; is he--how is he?"
+
+"He's better, Ma'am," said the man.
+
+With a low, long "O--Oh!" and clasped hands and upturned eyes, she
+leaned back in the carriage, and a sudden flood of tears relieved her.
+Yes; he was a great deal better. The attack was quite over; but he had
+not spoken. He seemed much exhausted; and having swallowed some claret,
+which the doctor prescribed, he had sunk into a sound and healthy sleep,
+in which he still lay. A message by telegraph had been sent to announce
+the good news, but Alice was some way on her journey before it had
+reached.
+
+Now the young lady got down, and entered the homely old inn, followed by
+her maid. She could have dropped on her knees in gratitude to her Maker;
+but true religion, like true affection, is shy of demonstrating its
+fervours where sympathy is doubtful.
+
+Gently, hardly breathing, guided by the "chambermaid," she entered her
+father's room, and stood at his bedside. There he lay, yellow, lean, the
+lines of his face in repose still forbidding, the thin lips and thin
+nose looking almost transparent, and breathing deeply and regularly, as
+a child in his slumbers. In that face Alice could not discover what any
+stranger would have seen. She only saw the face of her father. Selfish
+and capricious as he was, and violent too--a wicked old man, if one
+could see him justly--he was yet proud of her, and had many schemes and
+projects afloat in his jaded old brain, of which her beauty was the
+talisman, of which she suspected nothing, and with which his head was
+never more busy than at the very moment when he was surprised by the
+_aura_ of his coming fit.
+
+The doctor's conjecture was right. He had crossed the Channel that
+morning. In his French _coupée_, he had for companion the very man he
+had most wished and contrived to travel homeward with. This was Lord
+Wynderbroke.
+
+Lord Wynderbroke was fifty years old and upwards. He was very much taken
+with Alice, whom he had met pretty often. He was a man who was thought
+likely to marry. His estate was in the nattiest order. He had always
+been prudent, and cultivated a character. He had, moreover, mortgages
+over Sir Reginald Arden's estate, the interest of which the baronet was
+beginning to find it next to impossible to pay. They had been making a
+little gouty visit to Vichy, and Sir Reginald had taken good care to
+make the journey homeward with Lord Wynderbroke, who knew that when he
+pleased he could be an amusing companion, and who also felt that kind of
+interest in him which everyone experiences in the kindred of the young
+lady of whom he is enamoured.
+
+The baronet, who tore up or burnt his letters for the most part, had
+kept this particular one by which his daughter had been traced and
+summoned to the "Royal Oak." It was, he thought, clever. It was amusing,
+and had some London gossip. He had read bits of it to Lord Wynderbroke
+in the _coupée_. Lord Wynderbroke was delighted. When they parted, he
+had asked leave to pay him a visit at Mortlake.
+
+"Only too happy, if you are not afraid of the old house falling in upon
+us. Everything _there_, you know, is very much as my grandfather left
+it. I only use it as a caravanserai, and alight there for a little, on a
+journey. Everything there is tumbling to pieces. But you won't mind--no
+more than I do."
+
+So the little visit was settled. The passage was rough. Peer and baronet
+were ill. They did not care to reunite their fortunes after they touched
+English ground. As the baronet drew near London, for certain reasons he
+grew timid. He got out with a portmanteau and dressing-case, and an
+umbrella, at Drowark station, sent his servant on with the rest of the
+luggage by rail, and himself took a chaise; and, after one change of
+horses, had reached the "Royal Oak" in the state in which we first saw
+him.
+
+The doctor had told the people at that inn that he would look in, in the
+course of the night, some time after one o'clock, being a little uneasy
+about a possible return of the old man's malady. There was that in the
+aristocratic looks and belongings of his patient, and in the very
+fashionable address to which the message to his daughter was
+transmitted, which induced in the mind of the learned man a suspicion
+that a "swell" might have accidentally fallen into his hands.
+
+By this time, thanks to the diligence of Louisa Diaper, every one in the
+house had been made acquainted with the fact that the sick man was no
+other than Sir Reginald Arden, Bart., and with many other circumstances
+of splendour, which would not, perhaps, have so well stood the test of
+inquiry. The doctor and his crony, the rector--simplest of parsons--who
+had agreed to accompany him in this nocturnal call, being a curious man,
+as gentlemen inhabiting quiet villages will be--these two gentlemen now
+heard all this lore in the hall at a quarter past one, and entered the
+patient's chamber (where they found Miss Arden and her maid)
+accordingly. In whispers, the doctor made to Miss Arden a most
+satisfactory report. He made his cautious inspection of the patient, and
+again had nothing but what was cheery to say.
+
+If the rector had not prided himself upon his manners, and had been
+content with one bow on withdrawing from the lady's presence, they would
+not that night have heard the patient's voice--and perhaps, all things
+considered, so much the better.
+
+"I trust, Madam, in the morning Sir Reginald may be quite himself again.
+It is pleasant, Madam, to witness slumber so quiet," murmured the
+clergyman kindly, and in perfect good faith. "It is the slumber of a
+tranquil mind--a spirit at peace with itself."
+
+Smiling kindly in making the last stiff bow which accompanied these
+happy words, the good man tilted over a little table behind him, on
+which stood a decanter of claret, a water caraffe, and two glasses, all
+of which came to the ground with a crash that wakened the baronet. He
+sat up straight in his bed and stared round, while the clergyman, in
+consternation, exclaimed--"Good gracious!"
+
+"Hollo! what is it?" cried the fierce, thin voice of the baronet. "What
+the devil's all this? Where's Crozier? Where's my servant? Will you,
+will you, some of you, say where the devil I am?" He was screaming all
+this, and groping and clutching at either side of the bed's head for a
+bell-rope, intending to rouse the house. "Where's Crozier, I say? Where
+the devil's my servant? eh? He's gone by rail, ain't he? No one came
+with me. And where's this? What is it? Are you all tongue-tied?--haven't
+you a word among you?"
+
+The clergyman had lifted his hands in terror at the harangue of the old
+man of the "tranquil mind." Alice had taken his thin hand, standing
+beside him, and was speaking softly in his ear. But his prominent brown
+eyes were fiercely scanning the strangers, and the hand which clutched
+hers was trembling with eager fury. "Will some of you say what you mean,
+or what you are doing, or where I am?" and he screeched another sentence
+or two, that made the old clergyman very uncomfortable.
+
+"You arrived here, Sir Reginald, about six hours ago--extremely ill,
+Sir," said the doctor, who had placed himself close to his patient, and
+spoke with official authority; "but we have got you all right again, we
+hope; and this is the 'Royal Oak,' the principal hotel of Twyford, on
+the Dover and London road; and my name is Proby."
+
+"And what's all this?" cried the baronet, snatching up one of the
+medicine-bottles from the little table by his bed, and plucking out the
+cork and smelling at the fluid. "By heaven?" he screamed, "this is the
+very thing. I could not tell what d----d taste was in my mouth, and here
+it is. Why, my doctor tells me--and he knows his business--it is as much
+as my life's worth to give me anything like--like that, pah! assafoetida!
+If my stomach is upset with this filthy stuff, I give myself up! I'm
+gone. I shall sink, Sir. Was there no one here, in the name of Heaven,
+with a grain of sense or a particle of pity, to prevent that beast from
+literally poisoning me? Egad! I'll make my son punish him! I'll make my
+family hang him if I die!" There was a quaver of misery in his shriek of
+fury, as if he was on the point of bursting into tears. "Doctor, indeed!
+who sent for him? I didn't. Who gave him leave to drug me? Upon my soul,
+I've been poisoned. To think of a creature in my state, dependent on
+nourishment every hour, having his digestion destroyed! Doctor, indeed!
+Pay him? Not I, begad," and he clenched his sentence with an ugly
+expletive.
+
+But all this concluding eloquence was lost upon the doctor, who had
+mentioned, in a lofty "aside" to Miss Arden, that "unless sent for he
+should not call again;" and with a marked politeness to her, and no
+recognition whatever of the baronet, he had taken his departure.
+
+"I'm not the doctor, Sir Reginald; I'm the clergyman," said the Reverend
+Peter Sprott, gravely and timidly, for the prominent brown eyes were
+threatening him.
+
+"Oh, the clergyman! Oh, I see. Will you be so good as to ring the bell,
+please, and excuse a sick man giving you that trouble. And is there a
+post-office near this?"
+
+"Yes, Sir--close by."
+
+"This is you, Alice? I'm glad you're here. You must write a letter this
+moment--a note to your brother. Don't be afraid--I'm better, a good
+deal--and tell the people, when they come, to get me some strong soup
+this moment, and--good evening, Sir, or good-night, or morning, or
+whatever it is," he added, to the clergyman, who was taking his leave.
+"What o'clock is it?" he asked Alice. "Well, you'll write to your
+brother to meet me at Mortlake. I have not seen him, now, for how many
+years? I forget. He's in town, is he? Very good. And tell him it is
+perhaps the last time, and I expect him. I suppose he'll come. Say at a
+quarter past nine in the evening. The sooner it's over the better. I
+expect no good of it; it is only just to try. And I shall leave this
+early--immediately after breakfast--as quickly as we can. I hate it!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIII.
+
+ON THE ROAD.
+
+
+Next morning the baronet was in high good-humour. He has written a
+little reminder to Lord Wynderbroke. He will expect him at Mortlake the
+day he named, to dinner. He remembers he promised to stay the night. He
+can offer him, still, as good a game of piquet as he is likely to find
+in his club; and he almost feels that he has no excuse but a selfish
+one, for exacting the performance of a promise which gave him a great
+deal of pleasure. His daughter, who takes care of her old father, will
+make their tea and--_voilà tout!_
+
+Sir Reginald was in particularly good spirits as he sent the waiter to
+the post-office with this little note. He thinks within himself that he
+never saw Alice in such good looks. His selfish elation waxes quite
+affectionate, and Alice never remembered him so good-natured. She
+doesn't know what to make of it exactly; but it pleases her, and she
+looks all the more brilliant.
+
+And now these foreign birds, whom a chance storm has thrown upon the
+hospitality of the "Royal Oak," are up and away again. The old baronet
+and his pretty daughter, Louisa Diaper sitting behind, in cloaks and
+rugs, and the footman in front, to watch the old man's signals, are
+whirling dustily along with a team of four horses; for Sir Reginald's
+arrangements are never economical, and a pair would have brought them
+over these short stages and home very nearly as fast. Lady May's
+carriage pleases the old man, and helps his transitory good-humour: it
+is so much more luxurious than the jolty hired vehicle in which he had
+arrived.
+
+Alice is permitted her thoughts to herself. The baronet has taken his
+into companionship, and is leaning back in his corner, with his eyes
+closed; and his pursed mouth, with its wonderful involution of wrinkles
+round it, is working unconsciously; and his still dark eyebrows, now
+elevating, now knitting themselves, indicate the same activity of brain.
+
+With a silent look now and then at his face--for she need not ask
+whether Sir Reginald wants anything, or would like anything changed, for
+the baronet needs no inquiries of this kind, and makes people speedily
+acquainted with his wants and fancies--she occupies her place beside
+him, for the most part looking out listlessly from the window, and
+thinks of many things. The baronet opens his eyes at last, and says
+abruptly,
+
+"Charming prospect! Charming day! You'll be glad to hear, Alice, I'm not
+tired; I'm making my journey wonderfully! It is so pretty, and the sun
+so cheery. You are looking so well, it is quite a pleasure to look at
+you--charming! You'll come to me at Mortlake for a few days, to take
+care of me, you know. I shall go on to Buxton in a week or so, and you
+can return to Lady May to-night, and come to Mortlake shortly; and your
+brother, graceless creature! I suppose, will come to-night. I expect
+nothing from his visit, absolutely. He has been nothing to me but a
+curse all his life. I suppose, if there's justice anywhere, he'll have
+his deserts some day. But for the present I put him aside--I sha'n't
+speak of him. He disturbs me."
+
+They drove through London over Westminster Bridge, the servant thinking
+that they were to go to Lady May Penrose's in Chester Terrace. It was
+the first time that day, since he had talked of his son, that a black
+shadow crossed Sir Reginald's face. He shrunk back. He drew up his
+Chinese silk muffler over his chin. He was fearful lest some prowling
+beak or eagle-eyed Jew should see his face, for Sir Reginald was just
+then in danger. Glancing askance under the peak of his travelling cap,
+he saw Talkington, with Wynderbroke on his arm, walking to their club.
+How free and fearless those happy mortals looked! How the old man
+yearned for his chat and his glass of wine at B----'s, and his afternoon
+whist at W----'s! How he chafed and blasphemed inwardly at the invisible
+obstacle that insurmountably interposed, and with what a fiery sting of
+malice he connected the idea of his son with the fetters that bound him!
+
+"You know that man?" said Sir Reginald sharply, as he saw Mr. Longcluse
+raise his hat to her as they passed.
+
+"Yes, I've met him pretty often at Lady May's."
+
+"H'm! I had not an idea that anyone knew him. He's a man who might be of
+use to one."
+
+Here followed a silence.
+
+"I thought, papa, you wished to go direct to Mortlake, and I don't think
+this is the way," suggested Alice.
+
+"Eh? heigho! You're right, child; upon my life, I was not thinking,"
+said Sir Reginald, at the same time signalling vehemently to the
+servant, who, having brought the carriage to a stand-still, came round
+to the window.
+
+"We don't stop anywhere in town, we go straight to Mortlake Hall. It is
+beyond Islington. Have you ever been there? Well, you can tell them how
+to reach it."
+
+And Sir Reginald placed himself again in his corner. They had not
+started early, and he had frequently interrupted their journey on
+various whimsical pretexts. He remembered one house, for instance, where
+there was a stock of the very best port he had ever tasted, and then he
+stopped and went in, and after a personal interview with the proprietor,
+had a bottle opened, and took two glasses, and so paid at the rate of
+half a guinea each for them. It had been an interrupted journey, late
+begun, and the sun was near its setting by the time they had got a mile
+beyond the outskirts of Islington, and were drawing near the singular
+old house where their journey was to end.
+
+Always with a melancholy presentiment, Alice approached Mortlake Hall.
+But never had she felt it more painfully than now. If there be in such
+misgivings a prophetic force, was it to be justified by the coming
+events of Miss Arden's life, which were awfully connected with that
+scene?
+
+They passed a quaint little village of tall stone houses, among great
+old trees, with a rural and old-world air, and an ancient inn, with the
+sign of "Guy of Warwick"--an inn of which we shall see more
+by-and-by--faded, and like the rest of this little town, standing under
+the shadow of old trees. They entered the road, dark with double
+hedge-rows, and with a moss-grown park-wall on the right, in which, in a
+little time, they reached a great iron gate with fluted pillars. They
+drove up a broad avenue, flanked with files of gigantic trees, and
+showing grand old timber also upon the park-like grounds beyond. The
+dusky light of evening fell upon these objects, and the many windows,
+the cornices, and the smokeless chimneys of a great old house. You might
+have fancied yourself two hundred miles away from London.
+
+"You don't stay here to-night, Alice. I wish you to return to Lady May,
+and give her the note I am going to write. You and she come out to dine
+here on Friday. If she makes a difficulty, I rely on you to persuade
+her. I must have someone to meet Mr. Longcluse. I have reasons. Also, I
+shall ask my brother David, and his ward Miss Maubray. I knew her
+father: he was a fool, with his head full of romance, and he married a
+very pretty woman who was a devil, without a shilling on earth. The girl
+is an orphan, and David is her guardian, and he would like any little
+attention we can show her. And we shall ask Vivian Darnley also. And
+that will make a very suitable party."
+
+Sir Reginald wrote his note, talking at intervals.
+
+"You see, I want Lady May to come here again in a day or two, to stay
+only for two or three days. She can go into town and remain there all
+day, if she likes it. But Wynderbroke will be coming, and I should not
+like him to find us quite deserted; and she said she'd come, and she may
+as well do it now as another time. David lives so quietly, we are sure
+of him; and I commit May Penrose to you. You must persuade her to come.
+It will be cruel to disappoint. Here is her note--I will send the others
+myself. And now, God bless you, dear Alice!"
+
+"I am so uncomfortable at the idea of leaving you, papa." Her hand was
+on his arm, and she was looking anxiously into his face.
+
+"So of course you should be; only that I am so perfectly recovered, that
+I must have a quiet evening with Richard; and I prefer your being in
+town to-night, and you and May Penrose can come out to-morrow. Good-bye,
+child, God bless you!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIV.
+
+MR. LONGCLUSE'S BOOT FINDS A TEMPORARY ASYLUM.
+
+
+In the papers of that morning had appeared a voluminous report of the
+proceedings of the coroner's inquest which sat upon the body of the
+deceased Pierre Lebas. I shall notice but one passage referring to the
+evidence which, it seems, Mr. Longcluse volunteered. It was given in
+these terms:--
+
+"At this point of the proceedings, Mr. R. D. Longcluse, who had arrived
+about half an hour before, expressed a wish to be examined. Mr.
+Longcluse was accordingly sworn, and deposed that he had known the
+deceased, Pierre Lebas, when he (Mr. Longcluse) was little more than a
+boy, in Paris. Lebas at that time let lodgings, which were neat and
+comfortable, in the Rue Victoire. He was a respectable and obliging man.
+He had some other occupation besides that of letting lodgings, but he
+(Mr. Longcluse) could not say what it might be." Then followed
+particulars with which we are already acquainted; and the report went on
+to say: "He seemed surprised when witness told him that there might be
+in the room persons of the worst character; and he then, in considerable
+alarm, pointed out to him (witness) a man who was and had been following
+him from place to place, he fancied with a purpose. Witness observed the
+man and saw him watch deceased, turning his eyes repeatedly upon him.
+The man had no companions, so far as he could see, and affected to be
+looking in a different direction. It was sideways and stealthily that he
+was watching deceased, who had incautiously taken out and counted some
+of his money in the room. Deceased did not conceal from the witness his
+apprehensions from this man, and witness advised him again to place his
+money in the hands of some friend who had a secure pocket, and
+recommended, in case his friend should object to take so much money into
+his care--Lebas having said he had a large sum about him--under the gaze
+of the public, that he should make the transfer in the smoking-room, the
+situation of which he described to him. Mr. Longcluse then proceeded to
+give an exact description of the man who had been dogging the deceased;
+the particulars were as follows:--"
+
+Here I arrest my quotation, for I need not recapitulate the details of
+the tall man's features, dress, and figure, which are already familiar
+to the reader.
+
+                   *       *       *       *       *
+
+In a court off High Holborn there was, and perhaps is, a sort of
+coffee-shop, in the small drawing-rooms of which, thrown into one room,
+are many small and homely tables, with penny and halfpenny papers, and
+literature with startling woodcuts. Here working mechanics and others
+snatch a very early breakfast, and take their dinners, and such as can
+afford time loiter their half-hour or so over this agreeable literature.
+One penny morning paper visited that place of refection, for three hours
+daily, and then flitted away to keep an appointment elsewhere. It was
+this dull time in that peculiar establishment--namely, about nine
+o'clock in the morning--and there was but one listless guest in the
+room. It was the identical tall man in question. His flat feet were
+planted on the bare floor, and he leaned a shoulder against the
+window-case, with a plug of tobacco in his jaw, as, at his leisure, he
+was getting through the coroner's inquest on Pierre Lebas. He was
+smiling with half-closed eyes and considerable enjoyment, up to the
+point where Mr. Longcluse's evidence was suddenly directed upon him.
+There was a twitching scowl, as if from a sudden pain; but his smile
+continued from habit, although his face grew paler. This man, whose name
+was Paul Davies, winked hard with his left eye, as he got on, and read
+fiercely with his right. His face was whiter now, and his smile less
+easy. It was a queerish situation, he thought, and might lead to
+consequences.
+
+There was a little bit of a looking-glass, picked up at some rubbishy
+auction, as old as the hills, with some tarnished gilding about it, in
+the narrow bit of wall between the windows. Paul Davies could look at
+nothing quite straight. He looked now at himself in this glass, but it
+was from the corners of his eyes, askance, and with his sly, sleepy
+depression of the eye-lids, as if he had not overmuch confidence even in
+his own shadow. He folded the morning paper, and laid it, with formal
+precision, on the table, as if no one had disturbed it; and taking up
+the _Halfpenny Illustrated Broadsheet of Fiction_, and with it
+flourishing in his hand by the corner, he called the waiter over the
+bannister, and paid his reckoning, and went off swiftly to his garret in
+another court, a quarter of a mile nearer to Saint Paul's--taking an
+obscure and devious course through back-lanes and sequestered courts.
+
+When he got up to his garret, Mr. Davies locked his door and sat down on
+the side of his creaking settle-bed, and, in his playful phrase, "put on
+his considering cap."
+
+"That's a dangerous cove, that Mr. Longcluse. He's done a bold stroke.
+And now it's him or me, I do suppose--him or me; me or him. Come, Paul,
+shake up your knowledge-box; I'll not lose this cast simple. He's gave a
+description of me. The force will know it. And them feet o' mine, they
+_are_ a bit flat: but any chap can make a pair of insteps with a
+penn'orth o' rags. I wouldn't care tuppence if it wasn't for them
+pock-marks. There's no managing them. A scar or a wart you may touch
+over with paint and sollible gutta-percha, or pink wafers and gelatine,
+but pock-marks is too many for any man."
+
+He was looking with some anxiety in the triangular fragment of
+looking-glass--balanced on a nail in the window-case--at his features.
+
+"I can take off them whiskers; and the long neck he makes so much of, if
+it was as long as an oystrich, with fourpenn'orth of cotton waste and a
+cabbage-net, I'd make a bull of it, and run my shoulders up to my ears.
+I'll take the whiskers off, anyhow. That's no treason; and he mayn't
+identify me. If I'm not had up for a fortnight my hair would be grew a
+bit, and that would be a lift. But a fellow must think twice before he
+begins disguisin'. Juries smells a rat. Howsomever, a cove may shave,
+and no harm done; or his hair may grow a bit, and how can he help it?
+Longcluse knows what he's about. He's a sharp lad, but for all that Paul
+Davies 'ill sweat him yet."
+
+Mr. Davies turned the button of his old-fashioned window, and let it
+down. He shut out his two scarlet geraniums, which accompanied him in
+all his changes from one lodging to another.
+
+"Suppose he tries the larceny--that's another thing he may do, seeing
+what my lay is. It wouldn't do to lose that thing; no more would it
+answer to let them find it."
+
+This last idea seemed to cause Paul Davies a good deal of serious
+uneasiness. He began looking about at the walls, low down near the
+skirting, and up near the ceiling, tapping now and then with his
+knuckles, and sounding the plaster as a doctor would the chest of a
+wheezy patient. He was not satisfied. He scratched his head, and fiddled
+with his ear, and plucked his short nose dubiously, and winked hard at
+his geraniums through the window.
+
+Paul Davies knew that the front garret was not let. He opened his door
+and listened. Then he entered that room. I think he had a notion of
+changing his lodgings, if only he could find what he wanted. That was
+such a hiding-place as professional seekers were not likely to discover.
+But he could not satisfy himself.
+
+A thought struck him, however, and he went into the lobby again; he got
+on a chair and pushed open the skylight, and out went Mr. Davies on the
+roof. He looked and poked about here. He looked to the neighbouring
+roofs, lest any eye should be upon him; but there was no one. A maid
+hanging clothes upon a line, on a sort of balcony, midway down the next
+house, was singing, "The Ratcatcher's Daughter," he thought rather
+sweetly--so well, indeed, that he listened for two whole verses--but
+that did not signify.
+
+Paul Davies kneeled down, and loosed and removed, one after the other,
+several slates near the lead gutter, between the gables; and, having
+made a sufficient opening in the roof for his purpose, he returned, let
+himself down lightly through the skylight, entered his room, and locked
+himself up. He then unlocked his trunk and took from under his clothes,
+where it lay, a French boot--the veritable boot of Mr. Longcluse--which,
+for greater security, he popped under the coarse coverlet of his bed. He
+next took from his trunk a large piece of paper which, being unfolded at
+the window, disclosed a rude drawing with a sentence or two underneath,
+and three signatures, with a date preceding.
+
+Having read this document over twice or thrice, with a rather menacing
+smile, he rolled it up in brown paper and thrust it into the foot of the
+boot, which he popped under the coverlet and bolster. He then opened his
+door wide. Too long a silence might possibly have seemed mysterious, and
+called up prying eyes, so, while he filled his pipe with tobacco, he
+whistled, "Villikins and his Dinah" lustily. He was very cautious about
+this boot and paper. He got on his great-coat and felt hat, and took his
+pipe and some matches--the enjoying a quiet smoke without troubling
+others with the perfume was a natural way of accounting for his visit to
+the roof. He listened. He slipped his boot and its contents into his
+capacious great-coat pocket, with a rag of old carpet tied round it; and
+then, whistling still cheerily, he mounted the roof again, and placed
+the precious parcel within the roof, which he, having some skill as a
+slater, proceeded carefully and quickly to restore.
+
+Down came Mr. Davies now, and shaved off his whiskers. Then he walked
+out, with a bundle consisting of the coat, waistcoat, and blue necktie
+he had worn on the evening of Lebas's murder. He was going to pay a
+visit to his mother, a venerable greengrocer, who lived near the Tower
+of London; and on his way he pledged these articles at two distinct and
+very remote pawnbrokers', intending on his return to release, with the
+proceeds, certain corresponding articles of his wardrobe, now in ward in
+another establishment. These measures of obliteration he was taking
+quietly. His visit to his mother, a very honest old woman, who believed
+him to be the most virtuous, agreeable, and beautiful young man extant,
+was made with a very particular purpose.
+
+"Well, Ma'am," he said, in reply to the old lady's hospitable greeting,
+"I won't refuse a pot of half-and-half and a couple of eggs, and I'll go
+so far as a cut or two of bacon, bein' 'ungry; and I'm a-goin' to write
+a paper of some consequence, if you'll obleege me with a sheet of
+foolscap and a pen and ink; and I may as well write it while the things
+is a-gettin' ready, accordin' to your kind intentions."
+
+And accordingly Mr. Paul Davies sat in silence, looking very
+important--as he always did when stationery was before him--at a small
+table, in a dark back room, and slowly penned a couple of pages of
+foolscap.
+
+"And now," said he, producing the document after his repast, "will you
+be so good, Ma'am, as to ask Mr. Sildyke and Mrs. Rumble to come down
+and witness my signing of this, which I mean to leave it in your hands
+and safe keepin', under lock and key, until I take it away, or otherwise
+tells you what you must do with it. It is a police paper, Ma'am, and may
+be wanted any time. But you keep it dark till I tells you."
+
+This settled, Mr. Sildyke and Mrs. Rumble arrived obligingly; and Paul
+Davies, with an adroit wink at his mother--who was a little shocked and
+much embarrassed by the ruse, being a truth-loving woman--told them that
+here was his last will and testament, and he wanted only that they
+should witness his signature; which, with the date, was duly
+accomplished. Paul Davies was, indeed, a man of that genius which
+requires to proceed by stratagem, cherishing an abhorrence of straight
+lines, and a picturesque love of the curved and angular. So, if Mr.
+Longcluse was doing his duty at one end of the town, Mr. Davies, at the
+other, was by no means wanting in activity, or, according to the level
+of his intellect and experience, in wisdom.
+
+We have recurred to these scenes in which Mr. Paul Davies figures,
+because it was indispensable to the reader's right understanding of some
+events that follow. Be so good, then, as to find Sir Reginald exactly
+where I left him, standing on the steps of Mortlake Hall. His daughter
+would have stayed, but he would not hear of it. He stood on the steps,
+and smirked a yellow and hollow farewell, waving his hand as the
+carriage drove away. Then he turned and entered the lofty hall, in which
+the light was already failing.
+
+Sir Reginald did not like the trouble of mounting the stairs. His
+bed-room and sitting-room were on a level with the hall. As soon as he
+came in, the gloom of his old prison-house began to overshadow him, and
+his momentary cheer and good-humour disappeared.
+
+"Where is Tansey? I suppose she's in her bed, or grumbling in
+toothache," he snarled to the footman. "And where the devil's Crozier? I
+have the fewest and the worst servants, I believe, of any man in
+England."
+
+He poked open the door of his sitting-room with the point of his
+walking-stick.
+
+"Nothing ready, I dare swear," he quavered, and shot a peevish and fiery
+glance round it.
+
+Things were not looking quite so badly as he expected. There was just
+the little bit of expiring fire in the grate which he liked, even in
+summer. His sealskin slippers were on the hearth-rug, and his easy-chair
+was pushed into its proper place.
+
+"Ha! Crozier, at last! Here, get off this coat, and these mufflers,
+and---- I was d----d near dying in that vile chaise. I don't remember
+how they got me into the inn. There, don't mind condoling. You're
+privileged, but don't do that. As near dying as possible--rather an
+awkward business for useless old servants here, if I had. I'll dress in
+the next room. My son's coming this evening. Admit him, mind. I'll see
+him. How long is it since we met last? Two years, egad! And Lord
+Wynderbroke has his dinner here--I don't know what day, but some day
+very soon--Friday, I think; and don't let the people here go to sleep.
+Remember!"
+
+And so on, with his old servant, he talked, and sneered, and snarled,
+and established himself in his sitting-room, with his reviews, and his
+wine, and his newspapers.
+
+Night fell over dark Mortlake Hall, and over the blazing city of London.
+Sir Reginald listened, every now and then, for the approach of his son.
+Talk as he might, he did expect something--and a great deal--from the
+coming interview. Two years without a home, without an allowance, with
+no provision except a hundred and fifty pounds a year, might well have
+tamed that wilful beast!
+
+With the tremor of acute suspense, the old man watched and listened. Was
+it a good or an ill sign, his being so late?
+
+The city of London, with its still roaring traffic and blaze of
+gas-lamps, did not contrast more powerfully with the silent shadows of
+the forest-grounds of Mortlake, than did the drawing-room of Lady May
+Penrose, brilliant with a profusion of light, and resonant with the gay
+conversation of inmates, all disposed to enjoy themselves, with the dim
+and vast room in which Sir Reginald sat silently communing with his own
+dismal thoughts.
+
+Nothing so contagious as gaiety. Alice Arden, laughingly, was "making
+her book" rather prematurely in dozens of pairs of gloves, for the
+Derby. Lord Wynderbroke was deep in it. So was Vivian Darnley.
+
+"Your brother and I are to take the reins, turn about, Lady May says.
+He's a crack whip. He's better than I, I think," said Vivian to Alice
+Arden.
+
+"You mustn't upset us, though. I am so afraid of you crack whips!" said
+Alice. "Nor let your horses run away with us; I've been twice run away
+with already."
+
+"I don't the least wonder at Miss Arden's being run away with very
+often," said Lord Wynderbroke, with all the archness of a polite man of
+fifty.
+
+"Very prettily said, Wynderbroke," smiled Lady May. "And where is your
+brother? I thought he'd have turned up to-night," asked she of Alice.
+
+"I quite forgot. He was to see papa this evening. They wanted to talk
+over something together."
+
+"Oh, I see!" said Lady May, and she became thoughtful.
+
+What was the exact nature of the interest which good Lady May
+undoubtedly took in Richard Arden? Was it quite so motherly as years
+might warrant? At that time people laughed over it, and were curious to
+see the progress of the comedy. Here was light and gaiety--light within,
+lamps without; spirited talk in young anticipation of coming days of
+pleasure; and outside the roll of carriage-wheels making a humming bass
+to this merry treble.
+
+                   *       *       *       *       *
+
+Over the melancholy precincts of Mortlake the voiceless darkness of
+night descends with unmitigated gloom. The centre--the brain of this
+dark place--is the house: and in a large dim room, near the smouldering
+fire, sits the image that haunts rather than inhabits it.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XV.
+
+FATHER AND SON.
+
+
+Sir Reginald Arden had fallen into a doze, as he sat by the fire with
+his _Revue des Deux Mondes_, slipping between his finger and thumb, on
+his knees. He was recalled by Crozier's voice, and looking up, he saw,
+standing near the door, as if in some slight hesitation, a figure not
+seen for two years before.
+
+For a moment Sir Reginald doubted his only half-awakened senses. Was
+that handsome oval face, with large, soft eyes, with such brilliant
+lips, and the dark-brown moustache, so fine, and silken, that had never
+known a razor, an unsubstantial portrait hung in the dim air, or his
+living son? There were perplexity and surprise in the old man's stare.
+
+"I should have been here before, Sir, but your letter did not reach me
+until an hour ago," said Richard Arden.
+
+"By heaven! Dick? And so you came! I believe I was asleep. Give me your
+hand. I hope, Dick, we may yet end this miserable quarrel happily.
+Father and son can have no real interests apart."
+
+Sir Reginald Arden extended his thin hand, and smiled invitingly but
+rather darkly on his son. Graceful and easy this young man was, and yet
+embarrassed, as he placed his hand within his father's.
+
+"You will take something, Dick, won't you?"
+
+"Nothing, Sir, thanks."
+
+Sir Reginald was stealthily reading his face. At last he began
+circuitously--
+
+"I've a little bit of news to tell you about Alice. How long shall I
+allow you to guess what it is?"
+
+"I'm the worst guesser in the world--pray don't wait for me, Sir."
+
+"Well, I have in my desk there--would you mind putting it on the table
+here?--a letter from Wynderbroke. You know him?"
+
+"Yes, a little."
+
+"Well, Wynderbroke writes--the letter arrived only an hour ago--to ask
+my leave to marry your sister, if she will consent; and he says all he
+will do, which is very handsome--very generous indeed. Wait a moment.
+Yes, here it is. Read that."
+
+Richard Arden did read the letter, with open eyes and breathless
+interest. The old man's eyes were upon him as he did so.
+
+"Well, Richard, what do you think?"
+
+"There can be but one opinion about it. Nothing can be more handsome.
+Everything suitable. I only hope that Alice will not be foolish."
+
+"She sha'n't be that, I'll take care," said the old man, locking down
+his desk again upon the letter.
+
+"It might possibly be as well, Sir, to prepare her a little at first. I
+may possibly be of some little use, and so may Lady May. I only mean
+that it might hardly be expedient to make it from the first a matter of
+authority, because she has romantic ideas, and she is spirited."
+
+"I'll sleep upon it. I sha'n't see her again till to-morrow evening. She
+does not care about anyone in particular, I suppose?"
+
+"Not that I know of," said Richard.
+
+"You'll find it will all be right--it _will_--all right. It _shall_ be
+right," said Sir Reginald. And then there was a silence. He was
+meditating the other business he had in hand, and again circuitously he
+proceeded.
+
+"What's going on at the opera? Who is your great danseuse at present?"
+inquired the baronet, with a glimmer of a leer. "I haven't seen a ballet
+for more than six years. And why? I needn't tell you. You know the
+miserable life I lead. Egad! there are fellows placed everywhere to
+watch me. There would be an execution in this house this night, if the
+miserable tables and chairs were not my brother David's property. Upon
+my life, Craven, my attorney, had to serve two notices on the sheriff in
+one term, to caution him not to sell your uncle's furniture for my
+debts. I shouldn't have had a joint-stool to sit down on, if it hadn't
+been for that. And I had to get out of the railway-carriage, by heaven!
+for fear of arrest, and come home--if home I can call this ruin--by
+posting all the way, except a few miles. I did not dare to tell Craven I
+was coming back. I wrote from Twyford, where I--I--took a fancy to sleep
+last night, to no human being but yourself. My comfort is that they and
+all the world believe that I'm still in France. It is a pleasant state
+of things!"
+
+"I am grieved, Sir, to think you suffer so much."
+
+"I know it. I knew it. I know you are, Dick," said the old man eagerly.
+"And my life is a perfect hell. I can nowhere in England find rest for
+the sole of my foot. I am suffering perpetually the most miserable
+mortifications, and the tortures of the damned. I know you are sorry. It
+can't be pleasant to you to see your father the miserable outcast, and
+fugitive, and victim he so often is. And I'll say distinctly--I'll say
+at once--for it was with this one purpose I sent for you--that no son
+with a particle of human feeling, with a grain of conscience, or an atom
+of principle, could endure to see it, when he knew that by a stroke of
+his pen he could undo it all, and restore a miserable parent to life and
+liberty! Now, Richard, you have my mind. I have concealed nothing, and
+I'm sure, Dick, I know, I _know_ you won't see your father perish by
+inches, rather than sign the warrant for his liberation. For God's sake,
+Dick, my boy speak out! Have you the heart to reject your miserable
+father's petition? Do you wish me to kneel to you? I love you, Dick,
+although you don't admit it. I'll kneel to you, Dick--I'll kneel to you.
+I'll go on my knees to you."
+
+His hands were clasped; he made a movement. His great prominent eyes
+were fixed on Richard Arden's face, which he was reading with a great
+deal of eagerness, it is true, but also with a dark and narrow
+shrewdness.
+
+"Good heaven, Sir, don't stir, I implore! If you do, I must leave the
+room," said Richard, embarrassed to a degree that amounted to agitation.
+"And I must tell you, Sir--it is very painful, but, I could not help it,
+necessity drove me to it--if I were ever so desirous, it is out of my
+power now. I have dealt with my reversion. I have executed a deed."
+
+"You have been with the Jews!" cried the old man, jumping to his feet.
+"You have been dealing, by way of _post obit_, with my estate!"
+
+Richard Arden looked down. Sir Reginald was as nearly white as his
+yellow tint would allow; his large eyes were gleaming fire--he looked as
+if he would have snatched the poker, and brained his son.
+
+"But what could I do, Sir? I had no other resource. I was forbidden your
+house; I had no money."
+
+"You lie, Sir!" yelled the old man, with a sudden flash, and a hammer of
+his thin trembling fist on the table. "You had a hundred and fifty
+pounds a year of your mother's."
+
+"But that, Sir, could not possibly support any one. I was compelled to
+act as I did. You really, Sir, left me no choice."
+
+"Now, now, now, now, now! you're not to run away with the thing, you're
+not to run away with it; you sha'n't run away with it, Sir. You could
+have made a submission, you know you could. I was open to be reconciled
+at any time--always too ready. You had only to do as you ought to have
+done, and I'd have received you with open arms; you know I would--I
+_would_--you had only to unite our interests in the estates, and I'd
+have done everything to make you happy, and you know it. But you have
+taken the step--you have done it, and it is irrevocable. You have done
+it, and you've ruined me; and I pray to God you have ruined yourself!"
+
+With every sinew quivering, the old man was pulling the bell-rope
+violently with his left hand. Over his shoulder, on his son, he glanced
+almost maniacally. "Turn him out!" he screamed to Crozier, stamping;
+"put him out by the collar. Shut the door upon him, and lock it; and if
+he ever dares to call here again, slam it in his face. I have done with
+him for ever!"
+
+Richard Arden had already left the room, and this closing passage was
+lost on him. But he heard the old man's voice as he walked along the
+corridor, and it was still in his ears as he passed the hall-door; and,
+running down the steps, he jumped into his cab. Crozier held the
+cab-door open, and wished Mr. Richard a kind good-night. He stood on the
+steps to see the last of the cab as it drove down the shadowy avenue and
+was lost in gloom. He sighed heavily. What a broken family it was! He
+was an old servant, born on their northern estate--loyal, and somewhat
+rustic--and, certainly, had the baronet been less in want of money, not
+exactly the servant he would have chosen.
+
+"The old gentleman cannot last long," he said, as he followed the sound
+of the retreating wheels with his gaze, "and then Master Richard will
+take his turn, and what one began the other will finish. It is all up
+with the Ardens. Sir Reginald ruined, Master Harry murdered, and Master
+David turned tradesman! There's a curse on the old house."
+
+He heard the baronet's tread faintly, pacing the floor in agitation, as
+he passed his door; and when he reached the housekeeper's room, that old
+lady, Mrs. Tansey, was alone and all of a tremble, standing at the door.
+Before her dim staring eyes had risen an oft-remembered scene: the
+ivy-covered gatehouse at Mortlake Hall; the cold moon glittering down
+through the leafless branches; the grey horse on its side across the
+gig-shaft, and the two villains--one rifling and the other murdering
+poor Henry Arden, the baronet's gay and reckless brother.
+
+"Lord, Mr. Crozier! what's crossed Sir Reginald?" she said huskily,
+grasping the servant's wrist with her lean hand. "Master Dick, I do
+suppose. I thought he was to come no more. They quarrel always. I'm like
+to faint, Mr. Crozier."
+
+"Sit ye down, Mrs. Tansey, Ma'am; you should take just a thimbleful of
+something. What has frightened you?"
+
+"There's a scritch in Sir Reginald's voice--mercy on us!--when he raises
+it so; it is the very cry of poor Master Harry--his last cry, when the
+knife pierced him. I'll never forget it!"
+
+The old woman clasped her fingers over her eyes, and shook her head
+slowly.
+
+"Well, that's over and ended this many a day, and past cure. We need not
+fret ourselves no more about it--'tis thirty years since."
+
+"Two-and-twenty the day o' the Longden steeple-chase. I've a right to
+remember it." She closed her eyes again. "Why can't they keep apart?"
+she resumed. "If father and son can't look one another in the face
+without quarrelling, better they should turn their backs on one another
+for life. Why need they come under one roof? The world's wide enough."
+
+"So it is--and no good meeting and argufying; for Mr. Dick will never
+open the estate," remarked Mr. Crozier.
+
+"And more shame for him!" said Mrs. Tansey. "He's breaking his father's
+heart. It troubles him more," she added in a changed tone, "I'm
+thinking, than ever poor Master Harry's death did. There's none living
+of his kith or kin cares about it now but Master David. He'll never let
+it rest while he lives."
+
+"He _may_ let it rest, for he'll never make no hand of it," said
+Crozier. "Would you object, Ma'am, to my making a glass of something
+hot?--you're gone very pale."
+
+Mrs. Tansey assented, and the conversation grew more comfortable. And so
+the night closed over the passions and the melancholy of Mortlake Hall.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVI.
+
+A MIDNIGHT MEETING.
+
+
+A couple of days passed; and now I must ask you to suppose yourself
+placed, at night, in the centre of a vast heath, undulating here and
+there like a sea arrested in a ground-swell, lost in a horizon of
+monotonous darkness all round. Here and there rises a scrubby hillock of
+furze, black and rough as the head of a monster. The eye aches as it
+strains to discover objects or measure distances over the blurred and
+black expanse. Here stand two trees pretty close together--one in thick
+foliage, a black elm, with a funereal and plume-like stillness, and
+blotting out many stars with its gigantic canopy; the other, about fifty
+paces off, a withered and half barkless fir, with one white branch left,
+stretching forth like the arm of a gibbet. Nearly under this is a flat
+rock, with one end slanting downwards, and half buried in the ferns and
+the grass that grow about that spot. One other fir stands a little way
+off, smaller than these two trees, which in daylight are conspicuous far
+away as landmarks on a trackless waste. Overhead the stars are blinking,
+but the desolate landscape lies beneath in shapeless obscurity, like
+drifts of black mist melting together into one wide vague sea of
+darkness that forms the horizon. Over this comes, in fitful moanings, a
+melancholy wind. The eye stretches vainly to define the objects that
+fancy sometimes suggests, and the ear is strained to discriminate the
+sounds, real or unreal, that seem to mingle in the uncertain distance.
+
+If you can conjure up all this, and the superstitious freaks that in
+such a situation imagination will play in even the hardest and coarsest
+natures, you have a pretty distinct idea of the feelings and
+surroundings of a tall man who lay that night his length under the
+blighted tree I have mentioned, stretched on its roots, with his chin
+supported on his hands, and looking vaguely into the darkness. He had
+been smoking, but his pipe was out now, and he had no occupation but
+that of forming pictures on the dark back-ground, and listening to the
+moan and rush of the distant wind, and imagining sometimes a voice
+shouting, sometimes the drumming of a horse's hoofs approaching over the
+plain. There was a chill in the air that made this man now and then
+shiver a little, and get up and take a turn back and forward, and stamp
+sharply as he did so, to keep the blood stirring in his legs and feet.
+Then down he would lay again, with his elbows on the ground, and his
+hands propping his chin. Perhaps he brought his head near the ground,
+thinking that thus he could hear distant sounds more sharply. He was
+growing impatient, and well he might.
+
+The moon now began to break through the mist in fierce red over the far
+horizon. A streak of crimson, that glowed without illuminating anything,
+showed through the distant cloud close along the level of the heath.
+Even this was a cheer, like a red ember or two in a pitch-dark room.
+Very far away he thought now he heard the tread of a horse. One can hear
+miles away over that level expanse of death-like silence. He pricked his
+ears, he raised himself on his hands, and listened with open mouth. He
+lost the sound, but on leaning his head again to the ground, that vast
+sounding-board carried its vibration once more to his ear. It was the
+canter of a horse upon the heath. He was doubtful whether it was
+approaching, for the sound subsided sometimes; but afterwards it was
+renewed, and gradually he became certain that it was coming nearer. And
+now, like a huge, red-hot dome of copper, the moon rose above the level
+strips of cloud that lay upon the horizon of the heath, and objects
+began to reveal themselves. The stunted fir, that had looked to the
+fancy of the solitary watcher like a ghostly policeman, with arm and
+truncheon raised, just starting in pursuit, now showed some lesser
+branches, and was more satisfactorily a tree; distances became
+measurable, though not yet accurately, by the eye; and ridges and
+hillocks caught faintly the dusky light, and threw blurred but deep
+shadows backward.
+
+The tread of the horse approaching had become a gallop as the light
+improved, and horse and horseman were soon visible. Paul Davies stood
+erect, and took up a position a few steps in advance of the blighted
+tree at whose foot he had been stretched. The figure, seen against the
+dusky glare of the moon, would have answered well enough for one of
+those highwaymen who in old times made the heath famous. His low-crowned
+felt hat, his short coat with a cape to it, and the leather casings,
+which looked like jack-boots, gave this horseman, seen in dark outline
+against the glow, a character not unpicturesque. With a sudden strain of
+the bridle, the gaunt rider pulled up before the man who awaited him.
+
+"What are you doing there?" said the horseman roughly.
+
+"Counting the stars," answered he.
+
+Thus the signs and countersigns were exchanged, and the stranger said--
+
+"You're alone, Paul Davies, I take it."
+
+"No company but ourselves, mate," answered Davies.
+
+"You're up to half a dozen dodges, Paul, and knows how to lime a twig;
+that's your little game, you know. This here tree is clean enough, but
+that 'ere has a hatful o' leaves on it."
+
+"I didn't put them there," said Paul, a little sulkily.
+
+"Well, no. I do suppose a sight o' you wouldn't exactly put a tree in
+leaf, or a rose-bush in blossom; nor even make wegitables grow. More
+like to blast 'em, like that rum un over your head."
+
+"What's up?" asked the ex-detective.
+
+"Jest this--there's leaves enough for a bird to roost there, so this
+won't do. Now, then, move on you with me."
+
+As the gaunt rider thus spoke, his long red beard was blowing this way
+and that in the breeze; and he turned his horse, and walked him towards
+that lonely tree in which, as he lay gazing on its black outline, Paul
+had fancied the shape of a phantom policeman.
+
+"I don't care a cuss," said Davies. "I'm half sorry I came a leg to meet
+yer."
+
+"Growlin', eh?" said the horseman.
+
+"I wish you was as cold as me, and you'd growl a bit, maybe, yourself,"
+said Paul. "I'm jolly cold."
+
+"Cold, are ye?"
+
+"Cold as a lock-up."
+
+"Why didn't ye fetch a line o' the old author with you?" asked the
+rider--meaning brandy.
+
+"I had a pipe or two."
+
+"Who'd a-guessed we was to have a night like this in summer-time?"
+
+"I do believe it freezes all the year round in this queer place."
+
+"Would ye like a drop of the South-Sea mountain (gin)?" said the
+stranger, producing a flask from his pocket, which Paul Davies took with
+a great deal of good-will, much to the donor's content, for he wished to
+find that gentleman in good-humour in the conversation that was to
+follow.
+
+"Drink what's there, mate. D'ye like it?"
+
+"It ain't to be by no means sneezed at," said Paul Davies.
+
+The horseman looked back over his shoulder. Paul Davies remarked that
+his shoulders were round enough to amount almost to a deformity. He and
+his companion were now a long way from the tree whose foliage he feared
+might afford cover to some eavesdropper.
+
+"This tree will answer. I suppose you like a post to clap your back to
+while we are palaverin'," said the rider. "Make a finish of it, Mr.
+Davies," he continued, as that person presented the half-emptied flask
+to his hand. "I'm as hot as steam, myself, and I'd rather have a smoke
+by-and-by."
+
+He touched the bridle here, and the horse stood still, and the rider
+patted his reeking neck, as he stooped with a shake of his ears and a
+snort, and began to sniff the scant herbage at his feet.
+
+"I don't mind if I have another pull," said Paul, replenishing the
+goblet that fitted over the bottom of the flask.
+
+"Fill it again, and no heel-taps," said his companion.
+
+Mr. Davies sat down, with his mug in his hand, on the ground, and his
+back against the tree. Had there been a donkey near, to personate the
+immortal Dapple, you might have fancied, in that uncertain gloom, the
+Knight and Squire of La Mancha overtaken by darkness, and making one of
+their adventurous bivouacs under the boughs of the tree.
+
+"What you saw in the papers three days ago did give you a twist, I take
+it?" observed the gentleman on horseback, with a grin that made the red
+bristles on his upper lip curl upwards and twist like worms.
+
+"I can't tumble to a right guess what you means," said Mr. Davies.
+
+"Come, Paul, that won't never do. You read every line of that there
+inquest on the French cove at the Saloon, and you have by rote every
+word Mr. Longcluse said. It must be a queer turning of the tables, for a
+clever chap like you to have to look slippy, for fear other dogs should
+lag you."
+
+"'Tain't me that 'ill be looking slippy, as you and me well knows; and
+it's jest because you knows it well you're here. I suppose it ain't for
+love of _me_ quite?" sneered Paul Davies.
+
+"I don't care a rush for Mr. Longcluse, no more nor I care for you; and
+I see he's goin' where he pleases. He made a speech in yesterday's
+paper, at the meetin' at the Surrey Gardens. He was canvassin' for
+Parliament down in Derbyshire a week ago; and he printed a letter to the
+electors only yesterday. He don't care two pins for you."
+
+"A good many rows o' pins, I'm thinkin'," sneered Mr. Davies.
+
+"Thinkin' won't make a loaf, Mr. Davies. Many a man has bin too clever,
+and _thought_ himself into the block-house. You're making too fine a
+game, Mr. Davies; a playin' a bit too much with edged tools, and
+fiddlin' a bit too freely with fire. You'll burn your fingers, and cut
+'em too, do ye mind? unless you be advised, and close the game where you
+stand to win, as I rather think you do now."
+
+"So do I, mate," said Paul Davies, who could play at brag as well as his
+neighbour.
+
+"I'm on another lay, a safer one by a long sight. My maxim is the same
+as yours, 'Grab all you can;' but _I_ do it safe, d'ye see? You are in a
+fair way to end your days on the twister."
+
+"Not if I knows it," said Paul Davies. "I'm afeared o' no man livin'.
+Who can say black's the white o' my eye? Do ye take me for a child? What
+do ye take me for?"
+
+"I take you for the man that robbed and done for the French cove in the
+Saloon. That's the child I take ye for," answered the horseman
+cynically.
+
+"You lie! You don't! You know I han't a pig of his money, and never hurt
+a hair of his head. You say that to rile me, jest."
+
+"Why should I care a cuss whether you're riled or no? Do you think I
+want to get anything out o' yer? I knows everything as well as you do
+yourself. You take me for a queer gill, I'm thinking; that's not my lay.
+I wouldn't wait here while you'd walk round my hoss to have every secret
+you ever know'd."
+
+"A queer gill, mayhap. I think I know you," said Mr. Davies, archly.
+
+"You do, do ye? Well, come, who do you take me for?" said the stranger,
+turning towards him, and sitting erect in the saddle, with his hand on
+his thigh, to afford him the amplest view of his face and figure.
+
+"Then I take you for Mr. Longcluse," said Paul Davies, with a wag of his
+head.
+
+"For Mr. Longcluse!" echoed the horseman, with a boisterous laugh.
+"Well, _there's_ a guess to tumble to! The worst guess I ever heer'd
+made. Did you ever see him? Why, there's not two bones in our two bodies
+the same length, and not two inches of our two faces alike. There's a
+guess for a detective! Be my soul, it's well for you it ain't him, for I
+think he'd a shot ye!"
+
+The rider lifted his hand from his coat-pocket as he said this, but
+there was no weapon in it. Mistaking his intention, however, Paul Davies
+skipped behind the tree, and levelled a revolver at him.
+
+"Down with that, you fool!" cried the horseman. "There's nothing here."
+And he gave his horse the spur, and made him plunge to a little
+distance, as he held up his right hand. "But I'm not such a fool as to
+meet a cove like you without the lead towels, too, in case you should
+try that dodge." And dipping his hand swiftly into his pocket again, he
+also showed in the air the glimmering barrels of a pistol. "If you must
+be pullin' out your barkers every minute, and can't talk like a man,
+where's the good of coming all this way to palaver with a cove. It ain't
+not tuppence to me. Crack away if you likes it, and see who shoots best;
+or, if you likes it better, I don't mind if I get down and try who can
+hit hardest t'other way, and you'll find my fist tastes very strong of
+the hammer."
+
+"I thought you were up for mischief," said Davies, "and I won't be
+polished off simple, that's all. It's best to keep as we are, and no
+nearer; we can hear one another well enough where we stand."
+
+"It's a bargain," said the stranger, "and I don't care a cuss who you
+take me for. I'm not Mr. Longcluse; but you're welcome, if it pleases
+you, to give me his name, and I wish I could have the old bloke's tin as
+easy. Now here's my little game, and I don't find it a bad one. When two
+gentlemen--we'll say, for instance, you and Mr. Longcluse--differs in
+opinion (you says he did a certain thing, and he says he didn't, or goes
+the whole hog and says _you_ did it, and not him), it's plain, if the
+matter is to be settled amigable, it's best to have a man as knows what
+he's about, and can find out the cove as threatens the rich fellow, and
+deal with him handsome, according to circumstances. My terms is
+moderate. I takes five shillins in the pound, and not a pig under; and
+that puts you and I in the same boat, d'ye see? Well, I gets all I can
+out of him, and no harm can happen me, for I'm but a cove a-carryin' of
+messages betwixt you, and the more I gets for you the better for me. I
+settled many a business amigable the last five years that would never
+have bin settled without me. I'm well knowing to some of the swellest
+lawyers in town, and whenever they has a dilikite case, like a gentleman
+threatened with informations or the like, they sends for me, and I
+arranges it amigable, to the satisfacshing of both parties. It's the
+only way to settle sich affairs with good profit and no risk. I have
+spoke to Mr. Longcluse. He was all for having your four bones in the
+block-house, and yourself on the twister; and he's not a cove to be
+bilked out of his tin. But he would not like the bother of your
+cross-charge, either, and I think I could make all square between ye.
+What do you say?"
+
+"How can I tell that you ever set eyes on Mr. Longcluse?" said Davies,
+more satisfied as the conference proceeded that he had misdirected his
+first guess at the identity of the horseman. "How can I tell you're not
+just a-gettin' all you can out o' me, to make what you can of it on your
+own account in that market?"
+
+"That's true, you can't tell, mate."
+
+"And what do I know about you? What's your name?" pursued Paul Davies.
+
+"I forgot my name, I left it at home in the cupboard; and you know
+nothing about me, that's true, excepting what I told you, and you'll
+hear no more."
+
+"I'm too old a bird for that; you're a born genius, only spoilt in the
+baking. I'm thinking, mate, I may as well paddle my own canoe, and sell
+my own secret on my own account. What can you do for me that I can't do
+as well for myself?"
+
+"You don't think that, Paul. You dare not show to Mr. Longcluse, and you
+know he's in a wax; and who can you send to him? You'll make nothing o'
+that brag. Where's the good of talking like a blast to a chap like me?
+Don't you suppose I take all that at its vally? I tell you what, if it
+ain't settled now, you'll see me no more, for I'll not undertake it." He
+pulled up his horse's head, preparatory to starting.
+
+"Well, what's up now?--what's the hurry?" demanded Mr. Davies.
+
+"Why, if this here meetin' won't lead to business, the sooner we two
+parts and gets home again, the less time wasted," answered the cavalier,
+with his hand on the crupper of the saddle, as he turned to speak.
+
+Each seemed to wait for the other to add something.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVII.
+
+MR. LONGCLUSE AT MORTLAKE HALL.
+
+
+"If you let me go this time, Mr. Wheeler, you'll not catch me a-walking
+out here again," said Mr. Davies sourly. "If there's business to be
+done, now's the time."
+
+"Well, I can't make it no plainer--'tis as clear as mud in a
+wine-glass," said the mounted man gaily, and again he shook the bridle
+and hitched himself in the saddle, and the horse stirred uneasily, as he
+added, "Have you any more to say?"
+
+"Well, supposin' I say ay, how soon will it be settled?" said Paul
+Davies, beginning to think better of it.
+
+"These things doesn't take long with a rich cove like Mr. Longcluse.
+It's where they has to scrape it up, by beggin' here and borrowin'
+there, and sellin' this and spoutin' that--there's a wait always. But a
+chap with no end o' tin--that has only to wish and have--that's your
+sort. He swears a bit, and threatens, and stamps, and loses his temper
+summat, ye see; and if I was the prencipal, like you are in this 'ere
+case, and the police convenient, or a poker in his fist, he might make a
+row. But seein' I'm only a messenger like, it don't come to nothin'. He
+claps his hand in his pocket, and outs with the rino, and there's all;
+and jest a bit of paper to sign. But I won't stay here no longer. I'm
+getting a bit cold myself; so it's on or off _now_. Go yourself to
+Longcluse, if you like, and see if you don't catch it. The least you get
+will be seven-penn'orth, for extortin' money by threatenin' a
+prosecution, if he don't hang you for the murder of the Saloon cove. How
+would you like that?"
+
+"It ain't the physic that suits my complaint, guvnor. But I have him
+there. I have the statement wrote, in sure hands, and other hevidence,
+as he may suppose, and dated, and signed by respectable people; and I
+know his dodge. He thinks he came out first with his charge against me,
+but he's out there; and if he _will_ have it, and I split, he'd best
+look slippy."
+
+"And how much do you want? Mind, I'll funk him all I can, though he's a
+wideawake chap; for it's my game to get every pig I can out of him."
+
+"I'll take two thousand pounds, and go to Canada or to New York, my
+passage and expenses being paid, and sign anything in reason he wants;
+and that's the shortest chalk I'll offer."
+
+"Don't you wish you may get it? _I_ do, I know, but I'm thinking you
+might jest as well look for the naytional debt."
+
+"What's your name?" again asked Davies, a little abruptly.
+
+"My name fell out o' window and was broke, last Tuesday mornin'. But
+call me Tom Wheeler, if you can't talk without calling me something."
+
+"Well, Tom, that's the figure," said Davies.
+
+"If you want to deal, speak now," said Wheeler. "If I'm to stand between
+you, I must have a power to close on the best offer I'm like to get. I
+won't do nothing in the matter else-ways."
+
+With this fresh exhortation, the conference on details proceeded; and
+when at last it closed, with something like a definite understanding,
+Tom Wheeler said,--"Mind, Paul Davies, I comes from no one, and I goes
+to no one; and I never seed you in all my days."
+
+"And where are you going?"
+
+"A bit nearer the moon," said the mysterious Mr. Wheeler, lifting his
+hand and pointing towards the red disk, with one of his bearded grins.
+And wheeling his horse suddenly, away he rode at a canter, right toward
+the red moon, against which for a few moments the figure of the
+retreating horse and man showed black and sharp, as if cut out of
+cardboard.
+
+Paul Davies looked after him with his left eye screwed close, as was his
+custom, in shrewd rumination. Before the horseman had got very far, the
+moon passed under the edge of a thick cloud, and the waste was once more
+enveloped in total darkness. In this absolute obscurity the retreating
+figure was instantaneously swallowed, so that the shrewd ex-detective,
+who had learned by rote every article of his dress, and every button on
+it, and could have sworn to every mark on his horse at York Fair, had no
+chance of discovering in the ultimate line of his retreat, any clue to
+his destination. He had simply emerged from darkness, and darkness had
+swallowed him again.
+
+                   *       *       *       *       *
+
+We must now see how Sir Reginald's little dinner-party, not a score of
+miles away, went off only two days later. He was fortunate, seeing he
+had bidden his guests upon very short notice, not one disappointed.
+
+I daresay that Lady May--whose toilet, considering how quiet everything
+was, had been made elaborately--missed a face that would have brightened
+all the rooms for her. But the interview between Richard Arden and his
+father had not, as we know, ended in reconciliation, and Lady May's
+hopes were disappointed, and her toilet labour in vain.
+
+When Lady May entered the room with Alice, she saw standing on the
+hearth-rug, at the far end of the handsome room, a tall and very
+good-looking man of sixty or upwards, chatting with Sir Reginald, one of
+whose feet was in a slipper, and who was sitting in an easy-chair. A
+little bit of fire burned in the grate, for the day had been chill and
+showery. This tall man, with white silken hair, and a countenance kind,
+frank, and thoughtful, with a little sadness in it, was, she had no
+doubt, David Arden, whom she had last seen with silken brown locks, and
+the cheerful aspect of early manhood.
+
+Sir Reginald stood up, with an uncomfortable effort, and, smiling,
+pointed to his slippers in excuse for his limping gait, as he shuffled
+forth across the carpet to meet her, with a good-humoured shrug.
+
+"Wasn't it good of her to come?" said Alice.
+
+"She's better than good," said Sir Reginald, with his thin, yellow
+smile, extending his hand, and leading her to a chair; "it is visiting
+the sick and the halt, and doing real good, for it is a pleasure to see
+her--a pleasure bestowed on a miserable soul who has very few pleasures
+left;" and with his other thin hand he patted gently the fingers of her
+fat hand. "Here is my brother David," continued the baronet. "He says
+you will hardly know him."
+
+"She'll hardly believe it. She was very young when she last saw me, and
+the last ten years have made some changes," said Uncle David, laughing
+gently.
+
+At the baronet's allusion to that most difficult subject, the lapse of
+time, Lady May winced and simpered uneasily; but she expanded gratefully
+as David Arden disposed of it so adroitly.
+
+"We'll not speak of years of change. I knew you instantly," said Lady
+May happily. "And you have been to Vichy, Reginald. What stay do you
+make here?"
+
+"None, almost; my crippled foot keeps me always on a journey. It seems a
+paradox, but so it is. I'm ordered to visit Buxton for a week or so, and
+then I go, for change of air, to Yorkshire."
+
+As Alice entered, she saw the pretty face, the original of the brilliant
+portrait which had haunted her on her night journey to Twyford, and she
+heard a very silvery voice chatting gaily. Mr. Longcluse was leaning on
+the end of the sofa on which Grace Maubray sat; and Vivian Darnley, it
+seemed in high spirits, was standing and laughing nearly before her.
+Alice Arden walked quickly over to welcome her handsome guest. With a
+misgiving and a strange pain at her heart, she saw how much more
+beautiful this young lady had grown. Smiling radiantly, with her hand
+extended, she greeted and kissed her fair kinswoman; and, after a few
+words, sat down for a little beside her; and asked Mr. Longcluse how he
+did; and finally spoke to Vivian Darnley, and then returned to her
+conventional dialogue of welcome and politeness with her cousin--_how_
+cousin, she could not easily have explained.
+
+The young ladies seemed so completely taken up with one another that,
+after a little waiting, the gentlemen fell into a desultory talk, and
+grew gradually nearer to the window. They were talking now of dogs and
+horses, and Mr. Longcluse was stealing rapidly into the good graces of
+the young man.
+
+"When we come up after dinner, you must tell me who these people are,"
+said Grace Maubray, who did not care very much what she said. "That
+young man is a Mr. Vivian, ain't he?"
+
+"No--Darnley," whispered Alice; "Vivian is his Christian name."
+
+"Very romantic names; and, if he really means half he says, he is a very
+romantic person." She laughed.
+
+"What has he been saying?" Alice wondered. But, after all, it was
+possible to be romantic on almost any subject.
+
+"And the other?"
+
+"He's a Mr. Longcluse," answered Alice.
+
+"He's rather clever," said the young lady, with a grave decision that
+amused Alice.
+
+"Do you think so? Well, so do I; that is, I know he can interest one. He
+has been almost everywhere, and he tells things rather pleasantly."
+
+Before they could go any further, Vivian Darnley, turning from the
+window toward the two young ladies, said--"I've just been saying that we
+must try to persuade Lady May to get up that party to the Derby."
+
+"I can place a drag at her disposal," said Mr. Longcluse.
+
+"And a splendid team--I saw them," threw in Darnley.
+
+"There's nothing I should like so much," said Alice. "I've never been to
+the Derby. What do you say, Grace? Can you manage Uncle David?"
+
+"I'll try," said the young lady gaily.
+
+"We must all set upon Lady May," said Alice. "She is so good-natured,
+she can't resist us."
+
+"Suppose we begin now?" suggested Darnley.
+
+"Hadn't we better wait till we have her quite to ourselves? Who knows
+what your papa and your uncle might say?" said Grace Maubray, turning to
+Alice. "I vote for saying nothing to them until Lady May has settled,
+and then they must only submit."
+
+"I agree with you quite," said Alice laughing.
+
+"Sage advice!" said Mr. Longcluse, with a smile; "and there's time
+enough to choose a favourable moment. It comes off exactly ten days from
+this."
+
+"Oh, anything might be done in ten days," said Grace. "I'm sorry it is
+so far away."
+
+"Yes, a great deal might be done in ten days; and a great deal might
+happen in ten days," said Longcluse, listlessly looking down at the
+floor--"a great deal might happen."
+
+He thought he saw Miss Arden's eye turned upon him, curiously and
+quickly, as he uttered this common-place speech, which was yet a little
+odd.
+
+"In this busy world, Miss Arden, there is no such thing as quiet, and no
+one acts without imposing on other people the necessity for action,"
+said Mr. Longcluse; "and I believe that often the greatest changes in
+life are the least anticipated by those who seem to bring them about
+spontaneously."
+
+At this moment, dinner being announced, the little party transferred
+itself to the dining-room, and Miss Arden found herself between Mr.
+Longcluse and Uncle David.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVIII.
+
+THE PARTY IN THE DINING-ROOM.
+
+
+And now, all being seated, began the talk and business of dinner.
+
+"I believe," said Mr. Longcluse, with a laugh, "I am growing
+metaphysical."
+
+"Well, shall I confess, Mr. Longcluse, you do sometimes say things that
+are, I fear, a little too wise for my poor comprehension?"
+
+"I don't express them; it is my fault," he answered, in a very low tone.
+"You have _mind_, Miss Arden, for anything. There is no one it is so
+delightful to converse with, owing in part to that very faculty--I mean
+quick apprehension. But I know my own defects. I know how imperfectly I
+often express myself. By-the-way, you seemed to wish to have that
+curious little wild Bohemian air I sang the other night, 'The Wanderer's
+Bride'--the song about the white lily, you know. I ventured to get a
+friend, who really is a very good musician, to make a setting of it,
+which I so very much hope you will like. I brought it with me. You will
+think me very presumptuous, but I hoped so much you might be tempted to
+try it."
+
+When Mr. Longcluse spoke to Alice, it was always in a tone so very
+deferential, that it was next to impossible that a very young girl
+should not be flattered by it--considering, especially, that the man was
+reputed clever, had seen the world, and had met with a certain success,
+and that by no means of a kind often obtained, or ever quite despised.
+There was also a directness in his eulogy which was unusual, and which
+spoken with a different manner would have been embarrassing, if not
+offensive. But in Mr. Longcluse's manner, when he spoke such phrases,
+there appeared a real humility, and even sadness, that the boldness of
+the sentiment was lost in the sincerity and dejection of the speaker,
+which seemed to place him on a sudden at the immeasurable distance of a
+melancholy worship.
+
+"I am so much obliged!" said Alice. "I did wish so much to have it when
+you sang it. It may not do for my voice at all, but I longed to try it.
+When a song is sung so as to move one, it is sure to be looked out and
+learned, without any thought wasted on voice, or skill, or natural
+fitness. It is, I suppose, like the vanity that makes one person dress
+after another. Still, I do wish to sing that song, and I am so much
+obliged!"
+
+From the other side her uncle said very softly--"What do you think of my
+ward, Grace Maubray?"
+
+"Oughtn't I to ask, rather, what you think of her?" she laughed archly.
+
+"Oh! I see," he answered, with a pleasant and honest smile; "you have
+the gift of seeing as far as other clever people into a millstone. But,
+no--though perhaps I ought to thank you for giving me credit for so much
+romance and good taste--I don't think I shall ever introduce you to an
+aunt. You must guess again, if you will have a matrimonial explanation;
+though I don't say there is any such design. And perhaps, if there were,
+the best way to promote it would be to leave the intended hero and
+heroine very much to themselves. They are both very good-looking."
+
+"Who?" asked Alice, although she knew very well whom he meant.
+
+"I mean that pretty creature over there, Grace Maubray, and Vivian
+Darnley," said he quietly.
+
+She smiled, looking very much pleased and very arch.
+
+With how Spartan a completeness women can hide the shootings and
+quiverings of mental pain, and of bodily pain too, when the motive is
+sufficient! Under this latter they are often clamorous, to be sure; but
+the demonstration expresses not want of patience, but the feminine
+yearning for compassion.
+
+"I fancy nothing would please the young rogue Vivian better. I wish I
+were half so sure of her. You girls are so unaccountable, so fanciful,
+and--don't be angry--so uncertain."
+
+"Well, I suppose, as you say, we must only have patience, and leave the
+matter in the hands of Time, who settles most things pretty well."
+
+She raised her eyes, and fancied she saw Grace Maubray at the same
+moment withdraw hers from her face. Lady May was talking from the end of
+the table with Mr. Longcluse.
+
+"Your neighbour who is talking to Lady May is a Mr. Longcluse?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"He is a City notability; but oddly, I never happened to see him till
+this evening. Do you think there is something curious in his
+appearance?"
+
+"Yes, a little, perhaps. Don't you?"
+
+"So odd that he makes my blood run cold," said Uncle David, with a shrug
+and a little laugh. "Seriously, I mean unpleasantly odd. What is Lady
+May talking about? Yes--I thought so--that horrid murder at the 'Saloon
+Tavern.' For so good-natured a person, she has the most bloodthirsty
+tastes I know of; she's always deep in some horror."
+
+"My brother Dick told me that Mr. Longcluse made a speech there."
+
+"Yes, so I heard; and I think he said what is true enough. London is
+growing more and more insecure; and that certainly was a most audacious
+murder. People make money a little faster, that is true; but what is the
+good of money, if their lives are not their own? It is quite true that
+there are streets in London, which I remember as safe as this room,
+through which no one suspected of having five pounds in his pocket could
+now walk without a likelihood of being garotted."
+
+"How dreadful!" said Alice, and Uncle David laughed a little at her
+horror.
+
+"It is too true, my dear. But, to pass to pleasanter subjects, when do
+you mean to choose among the young fellows, and present me to a new
+nephew?" said Uncle David.
+
+"Do you fancy I would tell anyone if I knew?" she answered, laughing.
+"How is it that you men, who are always accusing us weak women of
+thinking of nothing else, can never get the subject of matrimony out of
+your heads? Now, uncle, as you and I may talk confidentially, and at our
+ease, I'll tell you two things. I like my present spinster life very
+well--I should like it better, I think, if it were in the country; but
+town or country, I don't think I should ever like a married life. I
+don't think I'm fit for command."
+
+"Command! I thought the prayer-book said something about obeying, on the
+contrary," said Uncle David.
+
+"You know what I mean. I'm not fit to rule a household; and I am afraid
+I am a little idle, and I should not like to have it to do--and so I
+could never do it well."
+
+"Nevertheless, when the right man comes, he need but beckon with his
+finger, and away you go, Miss Alice, and undertake it all."
+
+"So we are whistled away, like poodles for a walk, and that kind of
+thing! Well, I suppose, uncle, you are right, though I can't see that
+I'm quite so docile a creature. But if my poor sex is so willing to be
+won, I don't know how you are to excuse your solitary state, considering
+how very little trouble it would have taken to make some poor creature
+happy."
+
+"A very fair retort!" laughed Uncle David. And he added, in a changed
+tone, for a sudden recollection of his own early fortunes crossed
+him--"But even when the right man does come, it does not always follow,
+Miss Alice, that he dares make the sign; fate often interposes years,
+and in them death may come, and so the whole card-castle falls."
+
+"I've had a long talk," he resumed, "with Richard; he has made me
+promises, and I hope he will be a better boy for the future. He has been
+getting himself into money troubles, and acquiring--I'm afraid I should
+say cultivating--a taste for play. I know you have heard something of
+this before; I told you myself. But he has made me promises, and I hope,
+for your sake, he'll keep them; because, you know, I and your father
+can't last for ever, and he ought to take care of you; and how can he do
+that, if he's not fit to take care of himself? But I believe there is no
+use in thinking too much about what is to come. One has enough to do in
+the present. I think poor Lady May has been disappointed," he said, with
+a very cautious smile, his eye having glanced for a moment on her; "she
+looks a little forlorn, I think."
+
+"Does she? And why?"
+
+"Well, they say she would not object to be a little more nearly related
+to you than she is."
+
+"You can't mean papa--or _yourself_!"
+
+"Oh, dear, no!" he answered, laughing. "I mean that she misses Dick a
+good deal."
+
+"Oh, dear! uncle, you can't be serious!"
+
+"It might be a very serious affair for her; but I don't know that he
+could do a wiser thing. The old quarrel is still raging, he tells me,
+and that he can't appear in this house."
+
+"It is a great pity," said she.
+
+"Pity! Not at all. They never could agree; and it is much better for
+Dick they should not--on the terms Reginald proposes, at least. I see
+Lady May trying to induce you to make her the sign at which ladies rise,
+and leave us poor fellows to shift for ourselves."
+
+"Ungallant old man! I really believe she is."
+
+And in a moment more the ladies were floating from the room, Vivian
+Darnley standing at the door. Somehow he could not catch Alice's eye as
+they passed; she was smiling an answer to some gabble of Lady May's.
+Grace gave him a very kind look with her fine eyes as she went by; and
+so the young man, who had followed them up the massive stairs with his
+gaze, closed the door and sat down again, before his claret glass, and
+his little broken cluster of grapes, and half-dozen distracted bits of
+candied fruit, and sighed deeply.
+
+"That murder in the City that you were speaking of just now to Lady May
+is a serious business for men who walk the streets, as I do sometimes,
+with money in their pockets," said David Arden, addressing Mr.
+Longcluse.
+
+"So it struck me--one feels that instinctively. When I saw that poor
+little good-natured fellow dead, and thought how easily I might have
+walked in there myself, with the assassin behind me, it seemed to me
+simply the turn of a die that the lot had not fallen upon me," said
+Longcluse.
+
+"He was robbed, too, wasn't he?" croaked Sir Reginald, who was growing
+tired; and with his fatigue came evidences of his temper.
+
+"Oh, yes," said David; "nothing left in his pockets."
+
+"And Laroque, a watchmaker, a relation of his, said he had cheques about
+him, and foreign money," said Longcluse; "but, of course, the cheques
+were not presented, and foreign money is not easily traced in a big town
+like London. I made him a present of ten pounds to stake on the game; I
+could not learn that he did stake it, and I suppose the poor fellow
+intended applying it in some more prudent way. But my present was in
+gold, and that, of course, the robber applied without apprehension."
+
+"Now, you fellows who have a stake in the City, it is a scandal your
+permitting such a state of things to continue," said Sir Reginald;
+"because, though your philanthropy may not be very diffuse, each of you
+cares most tenderly for one individual at least in the human race--I
+mean _self_--and whatever you may think of personal morality, and even
+life--for you don't seem to me to think a great deal of grinding
+operatives in the cranks of your mills, or blowing them up by bursting
+steam-boilers, to say nothing of all the people you poison with
+adulterated food, or with strychnine in beer, or with arsenic in
+candles, or pretty green papers for bed-rooms--or smash or burn alive on
+railways--yet you should, on selfish grounds, set your faces against a
+system of assassination for pocket-books and purses, the sort of things
+precisely you have always about you. Don't you see? And it's
+inconsistent besides, because, as I said, although you care little for
+life--other people's, I mean--in the abstract, yet you care a great deal
+for property. I think it's your idol, by Jove! and worshipping
+money--positively _worshipping_ it, as you do, it seems a scandalous
+inconsistency that you should--of course, I don't mean you two
+individually," he said, perhaps recollecting that he might be going a
+little too fast; "you never, of course, fancied _that_. I mean, of
+course, the class of men we have all heard of, or seen--but I do say,
+with that sort of adoration for money and property, I can't understand
+their allowing their pockets to be profaned and their purses made away
+with."
+
+Sir Reginald, having thus delivered himself with considerable asperity,
+poured some claret into his glass, and pushed the jugs on to his
+brother, and then, closing his eyes, composed himself either to listen
+or to sleep.
+
+"City or country, East End or West End, I fancy we are all equally
+anxious to keep other people's hands out of our pockets," said David
+Arden; "and I quite agree with Mr. Longcluse in all he is reported to
+have said with respect to our police system."
+
+"But is it so certain that the man was robbed?" said Vivian Darnley.
+
+"Everything he had about him was taken," said Mr. Longcluse.
+
+"But they pretend to rob men sometimes, when they murder them, only to
+conceal the real motive," persisted Vivian Darnley.
+
+"Yes, that's quite true; but then there must be _some_ motive," said Mr.
+Longcluse, with something a little supercilious in his smile: "and it
+isn't easy to conceive a motive for murdering a poor little good-natured
+letter of lodgings, a person past the time of life when jealousy could
+have anything to do with it, and a most inoffensive and civil creature.
+I confess, if I were obliged to seek a motive other than the obvious
+one, for the crime, I should be utterly puzzled."
+
+"When I was travelling in Prussia," said Vivian Darnley, "I saw two
+people in different prisons--one a woman, the other a middle-aged
+man--both for murder. They had been found guilty, and had been kept
+there only to get a confession from them before execution. They won't
+put culprits to death there, you know, unless they have first admitted
+their guilt; and one of these had actually confessed. Well, each had
+borne an unexceptionable character up to the time when suspicion was
+accidentally aroused, and then it turned out that they had been
+poisoning and otherwise making away with people, at the rate of two or
+three a year, for half their lives. Now, don't you see, these masked
+assassins, having, as it appeared, absolutely no intelligible motive,
+either of passion or of interest, to commit these murders, could have
+had no inducement, as the woman had actually confessed, except a sort of
+lust of murder. I suppose it is a sort of madness, but these people were
+not otherwise mad; and it is quite possible that the same sort of thing
+may be going on in other places. People say that the police would have
+got a clue to the mystery by means of the foreign coin and the
+bank-notes, if they had not been destroyed."
+
+"But there are traces of organisation," said Mr. Longcluse. "In a
+crowded place like that, such things could hardly be managed without it,
+and insanity such as you describe is very rare; and you'll hardly get
+people to believe in a swell-mob of madmen, committing murder in concert
+simply for the pleasure of homicide. They will all lean to a belief in
+the coarse but intelligible motive of the highwayman."
+
+"I saw in the newspapers," said David Arden, "some evidence of yours,
+Mr. Longcluse, which seemed rather to indicate a particular man as the
+murderer."
+
+"I have my eye upon him," said Longcluse. "There are suspicious
+circumstances. The case in a little time may begin to clear; at present
+the police are only groping."
+
+"That's satisfactory; and those fellows are paid so handsomely for
+groping," said Sir Reginald, opening his eyes suddenly. "I believe that
+we are the worst-governed and the worst-managed people on earth, and
+that our merchants and tradespeople are rich simply by flukes--simply by
+a concurrence of lucky circumstances, with which they have no more to do
+than Prester John or the Man in the Moon. Take a little claret, Mr.
+Longcluse, and send it on."
+
+"No more, thanks."
+
+And all the guests being of the same mind, they marched up the broad
+stairs to the ladies.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIX.
+
+IN MRS. TANSEY'S ROOM.
+
+
+There were sounds of music and laughter faintly audible through the
+drawing-room door. The music ceased as the door opened, and the
+gentlemen entered an atmosphere of brilliant light, and fragrant with
+the pleasant aroma of tea.
+
+"Pray, Miss Arden, don't let us interrupt you," said Mr. Longcluse. "I
+thought I heard singing as we came up the stairs." He had come to the
+piano, and was now at her side.
+
+She did not sing or play, but Vivian Darnley thought that her
+conversation with Longcluse, as, with one knee on his chair, he leaned
+over the back of it and talked, seemed more interesting than usual.
+
+"I say, Reginald," said David Arden softly to his brother, "I must run
+down and pay Martha Tansey my usual visit. She's in her room, I suppose.
+I'll steal away and return quietly."
+
+And so he was gone. He closed the door softly behind him, and slowly
+descended the wide staircase, with many vague conjectures and images
+revolving in his mind. He paused at the great window on the landing, and
+looked out upon the solemn and familiar landscape. A brilliant moon was
+high in the sky, and the stars glimmered brightly. His hand was on the
+window as he looked out, thinking.
+
+Uncle David was a man impulsive, prompt, sanguine--a temperament, in
+short, which, directed by an able intellect, would have made a good
+general. When an idea had got into his head, he could not rest until he
+had worked it out. On the whole, throughout his life these fits of
+sudden and feverish concentration had been effective, and aided his
+fortunes. It is, perhaps, an unbusiness-like temperament; but commercial
+habits and example had failed to control that natural ardour, and, when
+once inflamed, it governed his actions implicitly.
+
+An idea, very vague, very little the product of reason, had now taken
+possession of his brain, and he relied upon it as an intuition. He had
+been thinking over it. It first warmed, then simmered, then, as it were,
+boiled. The process had been one of an hour and more, as he sat at his
+brother's table and took his share in the conversation. When the steam
+got up and the pressure rose to the point of action, forth went Uncle
+David to have his talk with his early friend Tansey. He stopped, as I
+have said, at the great window on the staircase, and looked out and up.
+The moon was splendid; the stars were glimmering brightly; they looked
+down like a thousand eyes set upon him, to watch the prowess and
+perseverance of the man on whom fate had imposed a mission.
+
+Some idea like this seized him, for, like many men of a similar
+temperament, he had an odd and unconfessed vein of poetry in his nature.
+He had looked out and up in a listless abstraction, and the dark heaven
+above him, brilliant with its eternal lights, had for a moment withdrawn
+and elevated his thoughts as if he had entered a cathedral.
+
+"What specks and shadows we are, and how eternal is duty! And if we are
+in another place to last like those unfailing lights--to become happy or
+wretched, and, in either state, indestructible for ever--what signify
+the labour and troubles of life, compared with that by which our
+everlasting fate is fixed? God help us! Am I consulting revenge or
+conscience in pursuing this barren inquiry? Do I mistake for the sublime
+impulse of conscience a vulgar thirst for blood? I think not. I never
+harboured malice; I hate punishing people. But murder is a crime against
+God himself, respecting which he imposes duties upon man, and seconds
+them by all the instincts of affection. Dare I neglect them, then, in
+the case of poor loving Harry, my brother?"
+
+The drawing-room door had been opened a little, the night being sultry,
+and through it now came the clear tones of a well-taught baritone. It
+was singing a slow and impassioned air, and its tones, though sweet,
+chilled him with a strange pain. It seemed like instinct that told him
+it was the stranger's voice. One moment's thought would have proved it
+equally. There was no one else present to suspect but Vivian Darnley,
+and he was no musician; but to David Arden it seemed that if a hundred
+people were there he should have felt it all the same, and intuitively
+recognised it as Longcluse's voice.
+
+"What is it in that voice which is so hateful? What is it in that
+passion which sounds insincere? What gives to those sweet tones a latent
+discord, that creeps so coldly through my nerves?"
+
+So thought David Arden, as, with one hand still upon the window-sash, he
+listened and turned toward the open door, with a frown akin to one of
+pain.
+
+Spell-bound, he listened till the song was over, and sighed and shook
+his ears with a sort of shudder when the music ceased.
+
+"I don't know why I stayed to listen. Face--voice--what is the agency
+about that fellow? I daresay I'm a fool, but I can't help it, and I must
+bring the idea to the test."
+
+He descended the stairs slowly, crossed the hall, and walked
+thoughtfully down the passage leading to the housekeeper's room. At this
+hour the old woman had it usually to herself. He knocked at the
+housekeeper's door, and recognised the familiar voice that answered.
+
+"How do you do, Martha?" said he, striding cheerily into the room.
+
+"Ah! Master David? So it is, sure!"
+
+"Ay, sure and sure, Martha," said he, taking the old woman's hand, with
+his kind smile. "And how are you, Martha? Tell me how you are."
+
+"I won't say much. I'm not so canty as you'll mind me. I'm an old wife
+now, Master David, and not much for this world, I'm thinking," she
+answered dolorously.
+
+"You may outlive much younger people, Martha; we are all in the hands of
+God," said David, smiling. "It seems to me but yesterday that I and poor
+Harry used to run in here to you from our play in the grounds, and you
+had always a bit of something for us hungry fellows to eat, come when we
+might."
+
+"Ah, ha! Yes, ye were hungry fellows then--spirin' up, fine tall lads.
+Reginald was never like ye; he was seven years older than you. And
+hungry? Yes! The cold turkey and ham, ye mind--by Jen! I _have_ seen ye
+eat hearty; and pancakes--ye liked them best of all. And it went a' into
+a good skin. I will say--you and Master Harry (God be wi' him!) a fine,
+handsome pair o' lads ye were. And you're a handsome fellow still,
+Master David, and might have married well, no doubt; but man proposes
+and God disposes, and time and tide 'll wait for no man, and what's one
+man's meat's another man's poison. Who knows and all may be for the
+best? And that Mr. Longcluse is dining here to-day?" she added, not very
+coherently, and with a sudden gloom.
+
+"Yes, Martha, that Mr. Longcluse is dining here to-day; and Master Dick
+tells me you did not fall in love with him at first sight, when they
+paid you a visit here. Is that true?"
+
+"I don't know. I don't know what. The sight of him--or the sound of his
+voice, I don't know which--gave me a turn," said the old woman.
+
+"Well, Martha, I don't like his face, either. He gave me, also, what you
+call a turn. He's very pale, and I felt as if I had been frightened by
+him when I was a child; and yet he must be some five and twenty years
+younger than I am, and I'm almost certain I never saw him before. So I
+say it must be something that's no' canny as you used to say. What do
+you think, Martha?"
+
+"Ye may be funnin', Master David. Ye were always a canty lad. But it's
+o'er true. I can't bring to mind what it is--I can't tell--but something
+in that man's face gev me a sten. I conceited I was just goin' to
+swound; and he looked sa straight at me, like a ghost."
+
+"Master Richard says you looked very hard at Mr. Longcluse; you had both
+a good stare at each other," said Uncle David. "He thought there was
+going to be a recognition."
+
+"Did I? Well, no: I don't know him, I _think_. 'Tis all a jummlement,
+like. I couldn't bring nout to mind."
+
+"I know, Martha, you liked poor Harry well," said David Arden, not with
+a smile, but with a very sad countenance.
+
+"That I did," said Mrs. Tansey.
+
+"And I think you like me, Martha?"
+
+"Ye're not far wrong there, Master David."
+
+"And for both our sakes--for mine and his, for the dead no less than the
+living--I am sure you won't allow any thought of trouble, or
+nervousness, or fear of lawyers' browbeating, or that sort of thing, to
+deter you from saying, wherever and whenever justice may require it,
+everything you know or suspect respecting that dreadful occurrence."
+
+"The death o' Master Harry, ye mean!" exclaimed Mrs. Tansey sternly,
+drawing herself up on a sudden, with a pale frown, and looking full at
+him. "_Me_ to hide or hold back aught that could bring the truth to
+light! Oh! Master David, do you know what ye're sayin'?"
+
+"Perfectly," said he, with a melancholy smile; "and I am glad it vexes
+you, Martha, because I need no answer on that point more than your
+honest voice and face."
+
+"Keep back aught, man!" she repeated, striking her hand on the table.
+"Why, lad, I'd lose that old hand under the chopper for one gliff o' the
+truth into that damned story. Why, lawk! where's yer head, boy? Wasn't I
+maist killed myself, for sake o' him that night?"
+
+"Ay, Martha, brave girl, I'm satisfied; and I ask your pardon for the
+question. But years bring alteration, you know; and I'm changed in mind
+myself in many ways I never could have believed. And everyone doesn't
+see with me that it is our duty to explore a crime like that, to track
+the villain, if we can, and bring him to justice. _You_ do, Martha; but
+there are many in whose veins poor Harry's blood is running, who don't
+feel like you. Master Richard said that the gentleman looked as if he
+did not know what to make of you; 'and, by Jove!' said he, '_I_ didn't
+either--Martha stared so.'"
+
+"I couldn't help. 'Twas scarce civil; but truly I couldn't, Sir," said
+Martha Tansey, who had by this time recovered her equanimity. "He did
+remind me of summat."
+
+"We will talk of that by-and-by, Martha; we will try to recall it. What
+I want you first to tell me is exactly your recollection of the
+lamentable occurrence of that night. I have a full note of it at home;
+but I have not looked at it for years, and I want my recollection
+confirmed to-night, that you and I may talk over some possibilities
+which I should like to examine with your help."
+
+"I can talk of it now," said the old woman; "but for many a year after
+it happened I dare not. I could not sleep for many a night after I told
+it to anyone. But now I can bear it. So, Master David, you may ask what
+you please."
+
+"First let me hear your recollection of what happened," said David
+Arden.
+
+"Ay, Master David, that I will. Sit ye down, for my old bones won't
+carry me standing no time now, and sit I must. Right well ye're lookin',
+and right glad am I to see it, Master David; and ye were always a
+handsome laddie. God bless ye, and God be wi' the old times! And poor
+Master Harry--poor laddie!--I liked him well. You two looked beautiful,
+walkin' up to t' house together--two conny, handsome boys ye were."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XX.
+
+MRS. TANSEY'S STORY.
+
+
+"The sun don't touch these windows till nigh nightfall. In the short
+days o' winter, the last sunbeam at the settin' just glints along the
+wall, and touches a sprig or two o' them scarlet geraniums on the
+windastone. 'Tis a cold room, Master David. In summer evenins, like
+this, ye have just a chilly flush o' the sun settin', and, before it's
+well on the windas, the bats and beetles is abroad, and the moth is
+flittin', and the gloamin' fa's," said the old woman. "The windas looks
+to the west, but also a bit to the north, ye'll mind, and that's the
+cause o't. I don't complain. I ha' suffered it these thirty years and
+more, and 'tain't worth while, for the few years that's left, makin' a
+blub and a blither about it. I'm an old wife now, Master David, and
+there can't be many more years for me left aboon the grass, sa I e'en
+let be and taks the world easy, ye see; and that's the reason I aye keep
+a bit o' wood burnin' on the hearth--it keeps the life in my old
+bones--and I hope it ain't too warm for you, Master David?"
+
+"Not a bit, Martha. This side of the house is cool. I remember that our
+room, when we were boys, looked out from it, high up, you recollect, and
+it never was hot."
+
+"That's it, ye were in the top o' the house; and poor Harry, wi' his
+picturs o' horses and dogs hangin' up on the wa's. Lawk! it seems but
+last week. How the years flits! I often thinks of him. See what a moon
+there is to-night. 'Twas just such a moon that night, only frostier, ye
+see--the same clear sky and bright moon; 'twould make ye wink to look
+at. Ye're not too hot wi' that bit o' wood lightin' in the grate?"
+
+"I like the fire, Martha, and I like the moon, and I like your company
+best of all."
+
+The truth was, he did like the flicker of the wood fire. The flame was
+cheery, and took off something of the dismal shadow that stole over
+everything whenever he applied his affectionate mind to the horrors of
+the dreadful night on which he was now ruminating. One of the
+window-shutters was open, and the chill brilliancy of the moon, and the
+deep blue sky, were serenely visible over the black foreground of trees.
+The wavering of the redder light of the fire, as its reflection spread
+and faded upon the wainscot, was warm and pleasant; and, had their talk
+been of less ghastly things, would have brightened their thoughts with a
+sense of comfort.
+
+"I have not very long to stay, Martha," said David Arden, looking at his
+watch, "so tell me your recollection as accurately as you can. Let me
+hear _that_ first; and then I want to ask you for some particular
+information, which I am sure you can give me."
+
+"Why not? Who should I give it sooner to? Will ye take a cup o' coffee?
+No. Well, a glass o' curaçoa? No. And what will ye take?"
+
+"You forget that I have taken everything, and come to you with all my
+wants supplied. So now, dear Martha, let me hear it all."
+
+"I'll tell ye all about it. I was younger and stronger, mind, than I am
+now, by twenty years and more. 'Tis a short time to look back on, but a
+good while passing, and leaves many a gap and change, and many a scar
+and wrinkle."
+
+There was a palpable tremble always in Mrs. Tansey's voice, in the thin
+hand she extended towards him, and in the head from which her old eyes
+glittered glassily on him.
+
+"The road is very lonely by night--the loneliest road in all England.
+When it passes ten o'clock, you might listen till cock-crow for a
+footfall. Well, I, and Thomas Ridley, and Anne Haslett, was all the
+people at Mortlake just then, the family being in the North, except
+Master Harry. He went to a race across country, that was run that day;
+and he told me, laughing, he would not ask me to throw an old shoe after
+him, as he stood sure to win two thousand pounds. And away he went,
+little thinking, him and me, how our next meetin' would be. At that time
+old Tom Clinton--ye'll mind Clinton?"
+
+"To be sure I do," acquiesced David Arden.
+
+"Well, Tom was in the gatehouse then; after he died, his daughter's
+husband got it, ye know. And when he had outstayed his time by two
+hours--for he was going northwards in the morning, and told me he'd be
+surely back before ten--I began to grow frightened, and I put on my
+bonnet and cloak, and down I runs to the gatehouse, and knocks up Tom
+Clinton. It was nigh twelve o'clock then. When Tom came to the door,
+having dressed in haste, I said, 'Tom, which way will Master Harry
+return? he's not been since.' And says Tom, 'If he's comin' straight
+from the course, he'll come down from the country; but if he's dinin'
+instead in London, he'll come up the Islington way.' 'Well,' said I, 'go
+you, Tom, to the turn o' the road, and look and listen for sight or
+sound, and bring me word.' I don't know what was frightenin' me. He was
+often later, and I never minded; but something that night was on my
+mind, like a warning, for I couldn't get the fear out o' my heart. Well,
+who comes ridin' back but Dick Wallock, the groom, that had drove away
+with him in the gig in the mornin'; and glad I was to see his face at
+the gate. It was bright moonlight, and says I, 'Dick, how is Master
+Harry? Is all well with him?' So he tells me, ay, all was well, and he
+goin' to drive the gig out himself from town. He was at a
+place--_you'll_ mind the name of it--where it turned out they played
+cards and dice, and won and lost like--like fools, or worse, as some o'
+them no doubt was. 'Well,' says I, 'go you up, as he told you, with the
+horse, and I'll stay here till he comes back, if it wasn't till
+daybreak.' For all the time, ye see, my heart misgave me that there was
+summat bad to happen; and when Tom Clinton came back, says I, 'Tom, you
+go in, and get to your room, and let me sit down in your kitchen; and
+I'll let him in when he comes, for I can't go up to the house, nor close
+an eye, till he comes.' Well, it was a full hour after, and I was
+sittin' in the kitchen window that looks out on the road, starin' wide
+awake, and lookin', now one way and now another, up and down, when I
+hears the clink of a footfall on the stones, and a tall, ill-favoured
+man walks slowly by, and turns his face toward the window as he passed."
+
+"You saw him distinctly, then?" said David.
+
+"As plain as ever I saw you. An ill-favoured fellow in a light drab
+great coat wi' a cape to it. He looked white wi' fear, and wild big
+eyes, and a high hooked nose--a tall chap wi' his hands in his pockets,
+and a low-crowned hat on. He went on slow, till a whistle sounded, and
+then he ran down the road a bit toward the signal."
+
+"That was toward the Islington side?"
+
+"Ay, Sir, and I grew more uneasy. I was scared wi' the sight o' such a
+man at that time o' night, in that lonesome place, and the whistlin' and
+runnin'."
+
+"Did you see the same man again that night?" asked David.
+
+"Yes, 'twas the same I saw afterwards--Lord ha' mercy on us! I saw him
+again, at his murderin' work. Oh, Master David! it makes my brain wild,
+and my skin creep, to think o' that sight."
+
+"I did wrong to interrupt you; tell it your own way, Martha, and I can
+afterwards ask you the questions that lie near my heart," said Mr.
+Arden.
+
+"'Tis easy told, Sir; the candle was burnt down almost in the socket,
+and I went to look out another--but before I could find one, it went
+out. 'Twas but a stump I found and lighted, after I saw that fellow in
+the light drab surtout go by. I wished to let them know, if they had any
+ill design, there was folks awake in the lodge. But he was gone by
+before I found the matches, and now that he was comin' again, the candle
+went out--things goes so cross. It was to be, ye see. Well, while I was
+rummagin' about, looking for a candle, I heard the sound of a horse
+trotting hard, and wheels rollin' along; so says I, 'Thank God!' for
+then I was sure it must be Harry, poor lad. So I claps on my bonnet, and
+out wi' me, wi' t' key. I thought I heard voices, as the hoofs and
+wheels came clinkin' up to the gate; but I could not be quite sure. I
+was huffed wi' Master Harry for the long wait he gev me, and the fright,
+and I took my time comin' round the corner of the gatehouse. And thinks
+I to myself, he'll be offerin' me a seat in the gig up to the house, but
+I won't take it. God forgi'e me for them angry thoughts to the poor
+laddie that I was never to have a word wi' more! When I came to the gate
+there was never a call, and nothing but voices talking and gaspin' like,
+under their breath a'most, and a queer scufflin' sound, that I could not
+make head nor tail on. So I unlocked the wicket, and out wi' me, and,
+Lord ha' mercy on us, what a sight for me! The gig was there, with its
+shafts on the ground, and its back cocked up, and the iron-grey flat on
+his side, lashin' and scramblin', poor brute, and two villains in the
+gig, both pullin' at poor Master Harry, one robbin', and t'other
+murderin' him. I took one o' them--a short, thick fellow--by the skirt
+o' his coat, to drag him out, and I screamed for Tom Clinton to come
+out. The short fellow turned, and struck at me wi' somethin'; but, lucky
+for me, 'appen, the lashin' horse that minute took me on the foot, and
+brought me down. But up I scrambles wi' a stone in my hand, and I shied
+it, the best I could, at the head o' the villain that was killin' Master
+Harry. But what can a woman do? It did not go nigh him, I'm thinkin'. I
+was, all the time, calling on Tom to come, and cryin' 'Murder!' that
+you'd think my throat'd split. That bloody wretch in the gig had got
+poor Master Harry's head back over the edge of it, and his knee to his
+chest, a-strivin' to break his neck across the back-rails; and poor dear
+lad, Master Harry, he just scritched, 'Yelland Mace! for God's sake!'
+They were the last words I ever heard from him, and I'll never forget
+that horrid scritch, nor the face of the villain that was over him, like
+a beast over its prey. He was tuggin' at his throat, like you'd be
+tryin' to tear up a tree by the roots--you never see such a face. His
+teeth was set, and the froth comin' through, and his black eyebrows
+screwed together, you'd think they'd crack the thin hooked nose of him
+between them, and he pantin' like a wild beast. He looked like a madman,
+I tell you; 'twas bright moonlight, and the trees bare, and the shadows
+of the branches was switchin' across his face."
+
+"You saw that face distinctly?" asked David Arden.
+
+"As clear as yours this minute."
+
+"Now tell me--and think first--was he a bit like that Mr. Longcluse
+whose appearance startled you the other evening?" asked Mr. Arden, in a
+very low tone, with his eyes fixed on her intensely.
+
+"No, no, no! not a bit. He had a small mouth and white teeth, and a
+great beak of a nose. No, no, no! not he. I saw him strike somethin'
+that shone--a knife or a dagger--into the poor lad's throat, and he
+struck it down at my head, as you know, and I mind nothin' after that.
+I'll carry the scar o' that murderer's blow to my grave. There's the
+whole story, and God forgi'e ye for asking me, for it gi'es me t'
+creepins for a week after; and I didn't conceit 'twould 'a' made me sa
+excited, Sir, or I would not 'a' bargained to tell it to-night--not that
+I blame ye, Master David, for I thought, myself, that I could bear it
+better--and I do believe, as I have gone so far in it, 'tis better to
+make one job of it, and a finish. So ye'll ask me any question ye like,
+and I'll make the best answer I can; only, Master David, ye'll not be
+o'er long about it?"
+
+"You are a good creature, Martha. I am sorry to pain you, but I pain
+myself, and you know why I ask these questions."
+
+"Ay, Sir, and I'd rather hear ye ask them than see you sit as easy under
+all that as some does, that owed the poor fellow as much love as ever
+you did, and were as near akin."
+
+"I am puzzled, Martha, and hitherto I have been baffled, but I won't
+give it up yet. You say that the wretch who struck you was a
+singular-looking man, at least as you describe him. I know, Martha, I
+can rely upon your caution--you will not repeat to any one what passes
+in our interview." He lowered his voice. "You do not think that this Mr.
+Longcluse--a rich gentleman, you know and a person who thinks he's of
+some consequence, a person whom we must not look at, you know, as if he
+had two heads--you really don't think that this Mr. Longcluse has any
+resemblance to the villain whom you saw stab my brother, and who struck
+you?"
+
+"Not he--no more than I have. No, no, Mr. Longcluse is quite another
+sort of face; but for all that, when he came in here, and I saw him
+before me, his face and his speech reminded me of that night."
+
+"How was that, Martha? Did he resemble the other man--the man who was
+aiding?"
+
+"That fellow was hanged, ye'll mind, Master David."
+
+"Yes, but a likeness might have struck and startled you."
+
+"No, Sir--no, Master David, not him; surely not him. I can't bring it to
+mind, but it frightens me. It _is_ queer, Sir. All I can say for certain
+is this, Master David. The minute I heard his voice, and got sight of
+his face, like that," and she dropped her hand on the table, "the
+thought of that awful night came back, bright and cold, Sir, and them
+black shadows--'twas all about me, I can't tell how, and I hope I may
+never see him again."
+
+"Do you think there was another man by, besides the two villains in the
+gig?" suggested David Arden.
+
+"Not a living soul except them and myself. Poor Master Harry said to Tom
+Clinton, ye'll mind, for he lived half-an-hour after, and spoke a
+little, though faint and with great labour, and says he, 'There were
+two: Yelland Mace killed me, and Tom Todry took the money.' Tom Clinton
+heard him say that, and swore to it before the justice o' peace, and
+after, on the trial. No, no, there wasn't a soul there but they two
+villains, and the poor dear lad they murdered, and me and Tom Clinton,
+that might as well 'a' bin in York for any good we did. Oh, no, Heaven
+forbid I should be so unmannerly as to compare a gentleman like Mr.
+Longcluse to such folk as that! Oh, lawk, no, Sir! But there's
+something, there's a look--or a sound in his voice--I can't get round it
+quite--but it reminds me of something about that night, with a start
+like, I can't tell how--something unlucky and awful--and I would not see
+him again for a deal."
+
+"Well, Martha, a thousand thanks. I'm puzzled, as I said. Perhaps it is
+only something strange in his face that caused that odd misgiving. For
+_I_ who saw but one of the wretches engaged in the crime, the man who
+was convicted, who certainly did not in the slightest degree resemble
+Mr. Longcluse, experienced the same unpleasant sensation on first seeing
+him. I don't know how it is, Martha, but the idea clings to me, as it
+does to you. Some light may come. Something may turn up. I can't get it
+out of my mind that somehow--it may be circuitously--he has, at least,
+got the thread in his fingers that may lead us right. Good-night,
+Martha. I have got the Bible with large print you wished for; I hope you
+will like the binding. And now, God bless you! It is time I should bid
+them good-night up-stairs. Farewell, my good old friend." And, so
+saying, he shook her hard and shrivelled hand.
+
+His steps echoed along the long tiled passage, with its one dim light,
+and his mind was still haunted by its one obscure idea.
+
+"It is strange," he thought, "that Martha and I--the only two living
+persons, I believe, who care still for poor Harry, and feel alike
+respecting the expiation that is due to his memory--should both have
+been struck with the same odd feeling on seeing Longcluse. From that
+white sinister face, it seems to me, I know not why, will shine the
+light that will yet clear all up."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXI.
+
+A WALK BY MOONLIGHT.
+
+
+While Martha Tansey was telling her grisly story in the housekeeper's
+room, and David Arden listening to the oft-told tale, for the sake of
+the possible new lights which the narration might throw upon his present
+theory, the little party in the drawing-room had their music and their
+talk. Mr. Longcluse sang the song which, standing beside Uncle David on
+the landing, near the great window on the staircase, we have faintly
+heard; and then he sang that other song, of the goblin wooer, at Alice's
+desire.
+
+"Was the poor girl fool enough to accept his invitation?" inquired Miss
+Maubray.
+
+"That I really can't say," laughed Mr. Longcluse.
+
+"Yes, indeed, poor thing! I so hope she didn't," said Lady May.
+
+"It's very likely she did," interposed Sir Reginald, opening his
+eyes--every one thought he was dozing--"nothing more foolish, and
+therefore, nothing more likely. Besides, if she didn't, she probably did
+worse. Better to go straight to the----"
+
+"Oh, dear Reginald!" exclaimed Lady May.
+
+"Than by a tedious circumbendibus. I suppose her parents highly
+disapproved of the goblin; wasn't that alone an excellent reason for
+going away with him?"
+
+And Sir Reginald closed his eyes again.
+
+"Perhaps," said Miss Maubray aside to Vivian Darnley, "that romantic
+young lady may have had a cross papa, and thought that she could not
+change very much for the worse."
+
+"Shall I tell that to Sir Reginald?--it would amuse him," inquired
+Darnley.
+
+"Not as my remark; but I make you a present of it."
+
+"Thanks; but that, even with your permission, would be a plagiarism, and
+robbing you of his applause."
+
+Vivian Darnley was very inattentive to his own nonsense. He was talking
+very much at random, for his mind, and occasionally his eyes, were
+otherwise occupied.
+
+Alice Arden was sitting near the piano, and talking to Mr. Longcluse.
+
+"Is that meant to be a ghost, I wonder, in our sense, like the ghost of
+Wilhelm in the ballad of Leonora? or is the lover a demon?"
+
+"A demon, surely," answered Longcluse, "a spirit appointed to her
+destruction. In an old ghostly writer there is a Latin sentence,
+_Unicuique nascenti, adest dæmon vitæ mystagogus_, which I will
+translate, 'There is present at the birth of every human being a demon,
+who is the conductor of his life.' Be it fortunate, or be it direful, to
+this supernatural influence he owes it all. So they thought; and to
+families such a demon is allotted also, and they prosper or wane as his
+function is ordained. I wonder whether such demons ever enter into human
+beings, and, in the shape of living men, haunt, plague, and ruin their
+predestinated victims."
+
+This sort of mysticism for a time they talked, and then wandered away to
+other themes, and the talk grew general; and Mr. Longcluse, with a pang,
+discovered that it was late. He had something on his mind that night. He
+had an undivulged use, also, to which to apply David Arden. As the hour
+drew near it weighed more and more heavily at his heart. That hour must
+be observed; he wished to be away before it arrived. There was still
+ample time; but Lady May was now talking of going, and he made up his
+mind to say farewell.
+
+Lingeringly Mr. Longcluse took his leave. But go he must; and so, a last
+touch of the hand, a last look, and the parting is over. Down-stairs he
+runs; his groom and his brougham are at the door. What a glorious moon!
+The white light upon all things around is absolutely dazzling. How sharp
+and black the shadows! How light and filmy rises the old house! How
+black the nooks of the thick ivy! Every drop of dew that hangs upon its
+leaves, or on the drooping stalks of the neglected grass, is transmuted
+into a diamond. As he stands for an instant upon the broad platform of
+the steps, he looks round him with a deep sigh, and with a strange smile
+of rapture. The man standing with the open door of the brougham in his
+hand caught his eye.
+
+"Go you down as far as the little church, before you reach the 'Guy of
+Warwick,' in the village, quite close to this--you know it--and wait
+there for me. I shall walk."
+
+The man touched his hat, shut the door, and mounted the box beside the
+driver, and away went the brougham. Mr. Longcluse lit a cigarette, and
+slowly walked down the broad avenue after the vehicle. By the time he
+had got about half-way, he heard the iron gates swing together, the
+sound of the wheels was lost in distance, and the feeling of seclusion
+returned. In the same vague intoxication of poetry and romance, he
+paused and looked round again, and sighed. The trunk of a great tree
+overthrown in the last year's autumnal gales, with some of its boughs
+lopped off, lay on the grass at the edge of the avenue. There remained a
+little of his cigarette to smoke, and the temptation of this natural
+seat was irresistible; so he took it, and smoked, and gazed, and
+dreamed, and sometimes, as he took the cigarette from his lips, he
+sighed--never was man in a more romantic vein. He looked back on the
+noble front of the picturesque old house. The cold moonlight gleamed on
+most of the window-panes: but from a few tall windows glowed faintly the
+warmer light of candles. If anyone had ever felt the piercing storms of
+life, the treachery of his species, and the mendacity of the illusions
+that surround us, Longcluse was that man. He had accepted the conditions
+of life, and was a man of the world; but no boy of eighteen was ever
+more in love than he at this moment.
+
+Gazing back at the dim glow that flushed through the tall window-blinds
+of the distant drawing-room, his fancy weaving all those airy dreams
+that passion lives in, this pale, solitary man--whom no one quite knew,
+who trusted no one, who had his peculiar passions, his sorrows, his
+fears, and strange remembrances; everything connected with his origin,
+vicissitudes, and character, except this one wild hope, locked up, as it
+were, in an iron casket, and buried in a grave fathoms deep--was now
+floated back, he knew not how, to that time of sweet perturbation and
+agonising hope at which the youth of Shakespeare's time were wont to
+sigh like a furnace, and indite woeful ballads to their mistress's
+eyebrows. Now he saw lights in an upper room. Imagination and conjecture
+were in a moment at work. No servant's apartment, its dimensions were
+too handsome; and had not Sir Reginald mentioned that his room was upon
+a level with the hall? Just at this moment Lady May's carriage drove
+down the avenue and past him. Yes, she had run up direct to her room on
+bidding Lady May good-night. How he drank in these rosy lights through
+his dark eyes! and how their tremble seemed to quicken the pulsations of
+his heart! Gradually his thoughts saddened, and his face grew dark.
+
+"Two doors in life--only in this life, if all bishops and curates speak
+truth--one or other shut for ever in the next. The gate to heaven, the
+gate to hell. Heaven! _Facilis decensus._ Life is such a sophism. Yet
+even those canting dogs in the pulpit can't bark away the truth. God
+sees not with our eyes! Revealed religion--Mahomet, Moses, Mormon,
+Borgia! What is the first lesson inscribed by his Maker on every man's
+heart, instinct, intellect? I read the mandate thus: 'Take the best care
+you can of number one.' Bah! 'It is he that hath made us, and not we
+ourselves.'"
+
+Uncle David's carriage now drove by.
+
+"There goes that sharp girl--pretty, vain--and they're all vain; they
+ought to be vain; they could not please if they were not. Vain she
+is--devoured, mind, soul, passion, by vanity. Yes, and power--the lust
+of power, conquest, acquisition. She's greedy and crafty, I daresay. Oh!
+Alice, who was ever quite like you? The most beautiful, the best, my
+darling! Oh! enchantress, work the miracle, and make this forlorn man
+what he might be!"
+
+It passed like a magic-lantern picture, and was gone. The distant clang
+of the iron gate was heard again, the avenue was deserted and silent,
+and Longcluse once more alone in his dream. He was looking towards the
+house, sometimes breaking into a few murmured words, sometimes smoking,
+and just as his cigarette was out he saw a figure approaching. It was
+Uncle David, who was walking down the avenue. It so happened that his
+mind was at that moment busy with Mr. Longcluse, and it was with an odd
+little shock, therefore, that he saw the very man--whom he fancied by
+that time to be at least two miles away--rise up in his path, and stand
+before him, smiling, in the moonlight.
+
+"Oh!--Mr. Longcluse?" exclaimed David Arden, coming suddenly to a halt.
+
+"So it is," said Longcluse, with a little laugh. "You are surprised to
+find me here, and I fancied I had seen your carriage go on."
+
+"So you did; it is waiting near the gate for me. Can I give you a seat
+into town?"
+
+"Thanks," said Longcluse, smiling; "mine is waiting for me a little
+further on."
+
+Longcluse walked slowly on toward the gate, with David Arden at his
+side.
+
+"My ward, Miss Maubray, has gone on with Lady May, and Darnley went with
+them. So I'm not such a brute as I should be if I were making a young
+lady wait while I was enjoying the moonlight."
+
+"It was this wonderful moon that led me, also, into this night-ramble on
+foot," said Mr. Longcluse; "I found the temptation absolutely
+irresistible."
+
+As they thus talked, Mr. Longcluse had formed the resolution of choosing
+that moment for a confidence which, considering how slender was his
+acquaintance with Mr. David Arden, was, to say the least, a little bold
+and odd. They had not very far to walk before reaching the gate, so, a
+little abruptly turning the course of their talk, Mr. Longcluse said,
+with a chilly little laugh, and a smile more pallid than ever in the
+moonlight--
+
+"By-the-bye, we were talking of that shocking occurrence in the Saloon
+Tavern; and connected with it, I have had two threatening letters."
+
+"Indeed!" said David Arden.
+
+"Fact, I assure you," said Mr. Longcluse, with a shrug and another cold
+little laugh.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXII.
+
+MR. LONGCLUSE MAKES AN ODD CONFIDENCE.
+
+
+David Arden looked at Mr. Longcluse with a sudden glance, that was, for
+a moment, shrinking and sharp. This confidence connected with such a
+scene chimed in, with a harmony that was full of pain, with the utterly
+vague suspicions that had somehow got into his imagination.
+
+"Yes, and I have been a little puzzled," continued Longcluse. "They say
+the man who is his own lawyer has a fool for his client; but there are
+other things besides law to which the spirit of the canon more strongly
+still applies. I think you could give me just the kind of advice I need,
+if you were not to think my asking it too great a liberty. I should not
+dream of doing so if the matter were simply a private one, and began and
+ended in myself; but you will see in a moment that public interests of
+some value are involved, and I am a little doubtful whether the course I
+am taking is in all respects the right one. I have had two threatening
+letters; would you mind glancing at them? The moon is so brilliant, one
+has no difficulty in reading. This is the first. And may I ask you,
+kindly, until I shall have determined, I hope, with your aid, upon a
+course, to treat the matter as quite between ourselves? I have mentioned
+it to but one other person."
+
+"Certainly," said David, "you have a right to your own terms."
+
+He took the letter and stopped short where he was, unfolding it. The
+light was quite sufficient, and he read the odd and menacing letter
+which Mr. Longcluse had received a few evenings before, as we know, at
+Lady May's. It was to the following effect:
+
+    "SIR,--The unfortunate situation in which you stand, the proof being
+    so, as you must suppose, makes it necessary for you to act
+    considerately, and no nonsense can be permitted by your well
+    wishers. The poor man has his conscience all one as as the rich, and
+    must be cautious as well as him. I can not put myself in no dainger
+    for you, Sir, nor won't hold back the truth, so welp me. I have
+    heerd tell of your boote bin took away. I would be happy to lend an
+    and, Sir, to recover that property. How all will end otherwise I
+    regrett. Knowing well who it will be that takes so mutch consern for
+    your safety, you cannot doubt who I am, and if you wishes to meat me
+    quiet to consult, you need only to name the place and time in the
+    times newspaper, which I sees it every day. It must be put part in
+    one days times, for the daite, saying a friend will show on sich a
+    night, and in next days times for the place, saying the dogs will
+    meet at sich and sich a place, and it shall hev the attenshen of
+    your
+
+    FAST FREND."
+
+"That's a cool letter, upon my word," said David Arden. "Have you an
+idea who wrote it?"
+
+"Yes, a very good guess. I'll tell you all that if you allow me, just
+now. I should say, indeed, an absolute certainty, for I have had another
+this afternoon with the name of the writer signed, and he turns out to
+be the very man whom I suspected. Here it is."
+
+David Arden's curiosity was piqued. He took the last note and read as
+follows:--
+
+    "SIR,--My last Letter must have came to Hand, and you been in reseet
+    of it since the 11th instant, has took no Notice thereoff, I have No
+    wish for justice, as you may Suppose, and has no Fealing against you
+    Mr. Longcluse Persanelly and to shew you plainly that Such is the
+    case, I will meet you for an intervue if such is your Wishes in your
+    Own house, if you should Rayther than name another place. I do not
+    objeck To one frend been Present providing such Be not a lawyer. The
+    subjek been Dellicat, I will Attend any hour and Place you appoint.
+    If you should faile I must put my Proofs in the hands of the police,
+    for I will take it for a sure sine of guilt if you fail after this
+    to appoint for a meating.
+
+    "I remain, Sir, Your obedient servent,
+    "PAUL DAVIES.
+
+    "No. 2 Rosemary Court."
+
+"Well, that's pretty frank," said Longcluse, observing that he had read
+to the end.
+
+"Extremely. What do you suppose his object to be--to extort money?"
+
+"Possibly; but he may have another object. In any case, he wants to make
+money by this move."
+
+"Very audacious, then. He must know, if he is fit for his trade, how
+much risk there is in it; and his signing his name and address to his
+letter, and seeking an interview with a witness by seems to me utterly
+infatuated," said David Arden, with his eye upon Mr. Longcluse.
+
+"So it does, except upon one supposition; I mean that the man believes
+his story," said Mr. Longcluse, walking beside him, for they had resumed
+their march towards the gate.
+
+"Really! believes that you committed the murder?" said Uncle David,
+again coming to a halt and looking full at him.
+
+"I can't quite account for it otherwise," said Longcluse; "and I think
+the right course is for me to meet him. But I have no intimacies in
+London, and that is my difficulty."
+
+"How? Why don't you arrest him?" said David Arden.
+
+David Arden had seldom felt so oddly. A quarter-of-an-hour since, he
+expected to have been seated in his carriage with his ward and Vivian
+Darnley, driving into town in quiet humdrum fashion, by this time. How
+like a dream was the actual scene! Here he was, standing on the grass
+among the noble timber, under the moonlight, with the pale face beside
+him which had begun to haunt him so oddly. The strange smile of his
+mysterious companion, the cold tone that jarred sweetly, somehow, on his
+ear, lending a sinister eccentricity to the extraordinary confession he
+was making.
+
+In this situation, which had come about almost unaccountably, there was
+a strange feeling of unreality. Was this man, from whom he had felt an
+indescribable repulsion, now by his side, and drawing him, in this
+solitude, into a mysterious confidence? and had not this confidence an
+unaccountable though distant relation to the vague suspicions that had
+touched his mind? With a little effort he resumed,--
+
+"I beg pardon, but if the case were mine I should put the letters at
+once into the hands of the police and prosecute him."
+
+"Precisely my own first impulse. But the letters are more cautiously
+framed than you might at first sight suppose. I should be placed in an
+awkward position were my prosecution to fail. _I_ am obliged to think of
+this because, although I am nothing to the public, I am a good deal to
+myself. But I've resolved to take a course not less bold, though less
+public. I am determined to meet him face to face with an unexceptionable
+witness present, and to discover distinctly whether he acts from fraud
+or delusion, and then to proceed accordingly. I have communicated with
+him."
+
+"Oh, really!"
+
+"Yes, I was clear I ought to meet him, but I would consent to nothing
+with an air of concealment."
+
+"I think you were right, Sir."
+
+"He wanted our meeting by night on board a Thames boat; then in a
+dilapidated house in Southwark; then in a deserted house that is to be
+let in Thames Street; but I named my own house, in Bolton Street, at
+half-past twelve to-night."
+
+"Then you really wish to see him. I suppose you have thought it well
+over; but I am always for taking such miscreants promptly by the throat.
+However, as you say, cases differ, and I daresay you are well advised."
+
+"And now may I venture a request, which, were it not for two facts
+within my knowledge, I should not presume to make? But I venture it to
+you, who take so special an interest in this case, because you have
+already taken trouble and, like myself, contributed money to aid the
+chances of discovery; and because only this evening you said you would
+bestow more labour, more time, and more money with pleasure to procure
+the least chance of an additional light upon it: now it strikes me as
+just possible that the writer of those letters may be, to some extent,
+honest. Though utterly mistaken about me, still he may have evidence to
+give, be it worth much or little; and so, Mr. Arden, having the pleasure
+of being known to some members of your family, although till to-night by
+name only to you, I beg as a great kindness to a man in a difficulty,
+and possibly in the interests of the public, that you will be so good as
+to accompany me, and be present at the interview, that cannot be so well
+conducted before any other witness whom I can take with me."
+
+David Arden paused for a moment, but independently quite of his interest
+in this case: he felt a strange curiosity about this pale man, whose
+eyes from under their oblique brows gleamed back the cold moonlight;
+while a smile, the character of which a little puzzled him, curled his
+nostril and his thin lip, and showed the glittering edge of his teeth.
+Did it look like treachery? or was it defiance, or derision? It was a
+face, thus seen, so cadaverous and Mephistophelian, that an artist would
+have given something for a minute to fix a note of it in white and
+black.
+
+David Arden was not to be disturbed in a practical matter by a pictorial
+effect, however, and in another moment he said--
+
+"Yes, Mr. Longcluse, as you desire it I will accompany you, and see this
+fellow, and hear what he has to say. _Certainly._"
+
+"That's very kind--only what I should have expected, also, from your
+public spirit. I'm extremely obliged."
+
+They resumed their walk towards the gate.
+
+"I shall get into my brougham and call at home, to tell them not to
+expect me for an hour or so. And what is the number of your house?"
+
+He told him; and David Arden having offered to take him, in his
+carriage, to the place where his own awaited him, which however he
+declined, they parted for a little time, and Mr. Arden's brougham
+quickly disappeared under the shadow of the tall trees that lined the
+curving road.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXIII.
+
+THE MEETING.
+
+
+As David Arden drove towards town, his confusion rather increased. Why
+should Mr. Longcluse select him for this confidence? There were men in
+the City whom he must know, if not intimately, at least much better than
+he knew him. It was a very strange occurrence; and was not Mr.
+Longcluse's manner, also, strange? Was he not, somehow, very oddly cool
+under a charge of murder? There was something, it seemed, indefinably
+incongruous in the nature of his story, his request, and his manner.
+
+                   *       *       *       *       *
+
+It was five or ten minutes before the appointed time when David Arden
+and Longcluse met in the latter gentleman's "study" in Bolton Street.
+There was a slight, odd flutter at Longcluse's heart, although his pale
+face betrayed no sign of agitation, as the shuffling tread of a heavy
+foot was heard on the doorsteps, followed by a faint knock, like that of
+a tremulous postman. It was the preconcerted summons of Mr. Paul Davies.
+
+Longcluse smiled at David Arden and raised his finger, as he lightly
+drew near the room door, with an air of warning. He wished to remind his
+companion that he was to receive their visitor alone. Mr. Arden nodded,
+and Mr. Longcluse withdrew. In a minute more the servant opened the
+study-door, and said--"Mr. Davies, Sir."
+
+And the tall ex-detective entered, and looked with a silky simper
+stealthily to the right and to the left from the corners of his eyes,
+and glided in, shutting the door behind him.
+
+Uncle David received this man without even a nod. He eyed him sternly,
+from his chair at the end of the table.
+
+"Sit in that chair, please," said he, pointing to a seat at the other
+end.
+
+The ex-policeman made his best bow, and turning out his toes very much,
+he shuffled with his habitual sly smirk on, to the chair, in which he
+seated himself, and with his big red hands on the table began turning,
+and twisting, and twiddling a short pencil, which was a good deal bitten
+at the uncut end, between his fingers and thumbs.
+
+"You came here to see Mr. Longcluse?" asked David Arden.
+
+"A few words of business at his desire. Sir, I ask your parding, I came,
+Sir, by his wishes, not mine, which has brought me here at his request."
+
+"And who am I, do you suppose?"
+
+The man, still smiling, looked at him shrewdly. "Well, I don't know, I'm
+sure; I may 'a' seen you."
+
+"Did you ever see that gentleman?" said David Arden, as Mr. Longcluse
+entered the room.
+
+The ex-detective looked also shrewdly at Longcluse, but without any
+light of recognition. "I may have seen him, Sir. Yes, I saw him in Saint
+George's, Hanover Square, the day Lord Charles Dillingsworth married
+Miss Wygram, the _hairess_. I saw him at Sydenham the second week in
+February last when the Freemasons' dinner was there; and I saw him on
+the night of the match between Hood and Markham, at the Saloon Tavern."
+
+"Do you know my name?" said David Arden.
+
+"Well, no, I don't at present remember."
+
+"Do you know that gentleman's name?"
+
+"His name?"
+
+"Ay, his name."
+
+"Well, no; I may have heard it, and I may bring it to mind, by-and-by."
+
+Longcluse smiled and shrugged, looking at Mr. Arden, and he said to the
+man--
+
+"So you don't know _that_ gentleman's name, nor mine?"
+
+The man looked at each, hard and a little anxiously, like a person who
+feels that he may be making a very serious mistake; but after a pause he
+said decisively--"No, I don't at present. I say I don't know your names,
+either of you gentlemen, and I _don't_."
+
+The two gentlemen exchanged glances.
+
+"Is either of us as tall as Mr. Longcluse?" asked David Arden, standing
+up.
+
+The man stood up also, to make his inspection.
+
+"You're both," he said, after a pause, "much about his height."
+
+"Is either of us like him?"
+
+"No," answered Davies, after a pause.
+
+"Did you write these letters?" asked Mr. Longcluse laughing.
+
+"Well, I did, or I didn't, and what's that to you?"
+
+"Something, as you shall know presently."
+
+"I think you're trying it on. I reckon this is a bit of a plant. I don't
+care a scratch o' that pencil if it be. I wrote them letters, and I said
+nothin' but what's true, and I'll go with you now to the station if you
+like, and tell all I knows."
+
+The fellow seemed nettled, and laughed viciously a little, and swaggered
+at the close of his speech. The faintest flush imaginable tinged
+Longcluse's forehead, as he shot a searching glance at him.
+
+"No, we don't want that," said he; "but you may be of more use in
+another way, although just now you are in the wrong box, and have
+mistaken your man, for _I_ am Mr. Longcluse. You have been misinformed,
+you see, as to the identity of the person you suspect; but some person
+you have, no doubt, in your mind, and possibly a case worth sifting,
+although you have been deceived as to his name. Describe the appearance
+of the man you supposed to be Mr. Longcluse. You may be frank with me; I
+mean you no harm."
+
+"I defy any man to harm me, Sir, if you please, so long as I do my
+dooty," said Paul Davies. "Mr. Longcluse, if that be his name, the man I
+mean, he's about your height, with round shoulders and red hair, and
+talks with a north-country twang on his tongue; he's a bit rougher, and
+a swaggerin' cove, and a yard o' red beard over his waistcoat, and
+bigger hands a deal than you, and broader feet."
+
+"And have you a case against him?"
+
+"Partly, but it ain't, Sir, if you please, by no means so complete as
+would answer as yet. If I was sure you were really Mr. Longcluse, I
+could say more, for I partly guess who this other gent is--a most
+respectable party. I think I do know you, Sir, by appearance; if you had
+your 'at on, Sir, I could say to a certainty. But I think, Sir, if you
+please, I'm not very far wrong when I say that I would identify you for
+Mr. David Arden."
+
+"So I am; that is quite true."
+
+"Thank you, Sir, I am obleeged; that's very quietin' to my mind, Sir,
+having full confidence in your character; and if you, Sir, please to
+tell me _that_ gentleman is undoubtingly Mr. Longcluse, the propperieter
+of this house, I must 'a' been let into a mistake; I don't think they
+was agreenin' of me, but it was a mistake, if you please, Sir, if you
+say so."
+
+"This is Mr. Longcluse--I know of no other--and he resides in this
+house," said David Arden. "But if you have information to give
+respecting that red-bearded fellow, there is no reason why you should
+not give it forthwith to the police."
+
+"Parding me, Sir, if you please, Mr. Arden. There is, I would say,
+strong reasons for a poor man in rayther anxious circumstances, like
+myself, Sir, 'aving an affectionate mother to, in a measure, support,
+and been himself unfortunately rayther hard up, he can't answer it nohow
+to his conscience if he lets a hoppertunity like the present pass him
+and his aged mother by unimproved. There been a reward offered, Sir, I
+naturally wish, Sir, if you please, to earn it myself by valuable
+evidence leading to the conviction of the guilty cove; and if I was to
+tell all I knows and 'av' made out by my own hindustry to the force,
+Sir, other persons would, don't you conceive, Sir, draw the reward, and
+me and my mother should go without. If I could get a hinterview with the
+man I 'av' bin a-gettin' things together for, I'd lead him, I 'av' no
+doubt, to make such hadmissions as would clench the prosecution, and
+vendicate justice."
+
+"I see what you mean," said David Arden.
+
+"And fair enough, I think," added Longcluse.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXIV.
+
+MR. LONGCLUSE FOLLOWS A SHADOW.
+
+
+The ex-detective cleared his voice, shook his head, and smirked.
+
+"A hinterview, gentlemen," said he, "is worth much in the hands of a
+persuasive party. I have hanged several obnoxious characters, and let
+others in for penal for life, by means of a hinterview. You remember
+Spikes, gentlemen, as got into difficulties for breaking Mr.
+Winterbotham's desk? Spikes would have frusterated justice, if it wasn't
+for me. It was done in one hinterview. Says I, 'Mr. Spikes, you have a
+wife and five children.'"
+
+The recollection of Mr. Paul Davies' diplomacy was so gratifying to that
+smiling gentleman, that he could not forbear winking at his auditors as
+he proceeded.
+
+"'And my belief is, Mr. Spikes, Sir,'" he continued, "'that it was all
+the hinfluence of Tom Sprowles. It was Sprowles persuaded yer--it was
+him as got the whole thing up. That's my belief; and you did not want to
+do it, no-wise, and only consented to force the henges in the belief
+that Sprowles wanted to read the papers, and no more. I have a bad
+opinion of Sprowles,' says I, 'for deceiving you, I may say innocently;'
+and talking this way, you conceive, I got it all out of him, and he's
+under penal for life. Whenever you want to get round a man, and to turn
+him inside out, your way is to sympath_ise_ with him. If I had but an
+hinterview with that man, I know enough to draw it out of him, every
+bit. It's all done by sympath_ising_."
+
+"But do you think you can discover the man?" asked Mr. Arden.
+
+"I'm sure to make him out, if you please, Sir; I'll find out all about
+him. I'd a found out the facks long ago, but for the mistake, which it
+occurred most unlucky. I saw him twice sence, and I know well where to
+look for him; and I'll have it all right before long, I'm thinkin'."
+
+"That will do, then, for the present," said Mr. Longcluse. "You have
+said all you have to say, and you see into what a serious mistake you
+have blundered; but I sha'n't give you any trouble about it--it is too
+ridiculous. Good-night, Mr. Davies."
+
+"No mistake of mine, Sir, please. Misinformed, Sir, you will kindly
+remark--misinformed, if you please--misinformed, as may occur to the
+sharpest party going. Good-night, gentlemen; I takes my leave without no
+unpleasant feelin', and good wishes for your 'ealth and 'appiness, both,
+gentlemen." And blandly, and with a sly sleepy smile, this insinuating
+person withdrew.
+
+"It is the reward he is thinking of," said Longcluse.
+
+"Yes, he won't spare himself; you mentioned that your own suspicions
+respecting him were but vague," said David Arden.
+
+"I merely stated what I saw to the coroner, and it was answered that he
+was watching the Frenchman Lebas, because the detective police, before
+Paul Davies' dismissal, had received orders to keep an eye on all
+foreigners; and he hoped to conciliate the authorities, and get a
+pension, by collecting and furnishing information. The police did not
+seem to think his dogging and watching the unfortunate little fellow
+really meant more than this."
+
+"Very likely. It is a very odd affair. I wonder who that fellow is whom
+he described. He did not give a hint as to the circumstances which
+excited his suspicions."
+
+"It _is_ strange. But that man, Paul Davies, kept his eye upon Lebas
+from the motive I mentioned, and this circumstance may have led to his
+seeing more of the matter than, with the reward in his mind, he cares to
+make known at present. I think I did right in meeting him face to face."
+
+"Quite right, Sir."
+
+"It has been always a rule with me to go straight at everything. I think
+the best diplomacy is directness, and that the truest caution lies in
+courage."
+
+"Precisely my opinion, Mr. Longcluse," said Uncle David, looking on him
+with eyes of approbation. He was near adding something hearty in the
+spirit of our ancestors' saying, "I hope you and I, Sir, may be better
+acquainted;" but something in the look and peculiar face of this unknown
+Mr. Longcluse chilled him, and he only said--
+
+"As you say, Mr. Longcluse, courage is safety, and honesty the best
+policy. Good-night, Sir."
+
+"A thousand thanks, Mr. Arden. Might I ask one more favour, that you
+will endorse on each of these threatening letters a memorandum of the
+facts of this strange interview?--I mean a sentence or two, which may at
+any time confound this fellow, should he turn out to be a villain."
+
+"Certainly," said Mr. Arden thoughtfully, and he sat down again, and
+wrote a few lines on the back of each, which, having signed, he handed
+them to Mr. Longcluse, with the question, "Will that answer?"
+
+"Perfectly, thank you very much; it is indeed impossible for me to thank
+you as I ought and wish to," said Mr. Longcluse with effusion, extending
+his hand at the same time; but Mr. Arden took it without much warmth,
+and said, in comparison a little drily--
+
+"No need to thank me, Mr. Longcluse; as you said at first, there are
+motives quite sufficient, of a kind for which you can owe me,
+personally, no thanks whatever, to induce the very slight trouble of
+coming here."
+
+"Well, Mr. Arden, I _am_ very _much_ obliged to you, notwithstanding;"
+and so he gratefully saw him to the door, and smiled and bowed him off,
+and stood for a moment as his carriage whirled down the short street.
+
+"He does not like me--nor I, perhaps, him. Ha! ha! ha!" he laughed, very
+softly and reservedly, looking down on the flags. "What an odd thing it
+is! Those instincts and antipathies, they are very odd." All this,
+except the faint laughter, was in thought.
+
+Mr. Longcluse stepped back. He was negatively happy--he was rid of an
+anxiety. He was positively happy--he had been better received by Miss
+Arden, this evening, than he had ever been before. So he went to his bed
+with a light heart, and a head full of dreams.
+
+All the next day, one beautiful image haunted Longcluse's imagination.
+He was delayed in town; he had to consult about operations in foreign
+stocks; he had many words to say, directions to modify, and calls to
+make on this man and that. He had hoped to be at Mortlake Hall at three
+o'clock. But it was past six before he could disentangle himself from
+the tenacious meshes of his business. Never had he thought it so
+irksome. Was he not rich enough--too rich? Why should he longer submit
+to a servitude so wearisome? It was high time he should begin to enjoy
+his days in the sunshine of his gold and the companionship of his
+beautiful idol. But "man proposes," says the ancient saw, "and God
+disposes."
+
+It was just seven o'clock when Mr. Longcluse descended at the steps of
+old Mortlake Hall.
+
+Sir Reginald, who is writhing under a letter from the attorney of the
+millionaire mortgagee of his Yorkshire estate, making an alternative
+offer, either to call in the principal sum or to allow it to stand out
+on larger interest, had begged of Mr. Longcluse, last night, to give him
+a few words of counsel some day. He had, in a quiet talk the evening
+before, taken the man of huge investments rather into his confidence.
+
+"I don't know, Mr.--a--Mr. Longcluse, whether you are aware how cruelly
+my property is tied up," he said, as he talked in a low tone with him,
+in a corner of the drawing-room. "A life estate, and my son, who
+declines bearing any part of the burden of his own extravagance, will do
+nothing to facilitate my efforts to pay his debts for him; and I declare
+solemnly, if they raise the interest on this very oppressive mortgage, I
+don't know how on earth I can pay my insurances. I don't see how I am to
+do it. I should be so extremely obliged to you, Mr. Longcluse, if you
+would, with your vast experience and knowledge in all--all financial
+matters, give me any advice that strikes you--if you could, with perfect
+convenience, afford so much time. I don't really know what rate of
+interest is usual. I only know this, that interest, as a rule, has been
+steadily declining ever since I can remember--perpetually declining; I
+mean, of course, upon perfect security like this; and now this
+confounded harpy wants, after ten years, to _raise_ it! I believe they
+want to drive me out of the world, among them! and they well know the
+cruelty of it, for I have never been able to pay them a single half-year
+punctually. Will you take some tea?"
+
+So Longcluse had promised his advice very gladly next day; and now he
+asked for Sir Reginald. Sir Reginald was very particularly engaged at
+this moment on business; Mr. Arden was with him at present; but if Mr.
+Longcluse would wait for a few minutes, Sir Reginald would be most happy
+to see him. So there was to be a little wait. How could he better pass
+the interval than in Miss Arden's company?
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXV.
+
+A TETE-A-TETE.
+
+
+Up to the drawing-room went Mr. Longcluse, and there he found Miss Arden
+finishing a drawing. He fancied a very slight flush on her cheek as he
+entered. Was there really a heightening of that beautiful tint as she
+smiled? How lovely her long lashes, and her even little teeth, and the
+lustrous darkness of her eyes, in that subdued light!
+
+"I so wanted advice, Mr. Longcluse, and you have come in so fortunately!
+I am not satisfied with my sky and mountains, and the foreground where
+the light touches that withered branch is a horrible failure. In nature,
+it looked quite beautiful. I remember it so well. It looked on fire,
+almost. This is Saxteen Castle, near Golden Friars, and that is a bit of
+the lake and those are the fells. I sketched it in pencil, and trusted
+to memory for colouring. It was just at the most picturesque moment,
+when the sun was going down between the two mountains that overhang the
+little town on the west."
+
+"Sunset is very well expressed. You indicated all those long shadows,
+Miss Arden, in pencil, and I envy your perspective, and I think your
+colouring so extremely good! The distances are admirably marked. Try a
+little cadmium, burnt sienna, and lake for the intense touches of light
+in the foreground, on that barkless branch. Your own eye will best
+regulate the proportions. I am one of those vandals who prefer colour a
+little too bold and overdone to any timidity in that respect. Exuberance
+in a beginner is always, in my mind, an augury of excellence. It is so
+easy to moderate afterwards."
+
+"Yes, I daresay; I'm very glad you advise that, because I always thought
+so myself; but I was half afraid to act on it. I think that is about the
+tint--a little more yellow, perhaps. Yes; how does it look now?--what do
+you think?"
+
+"Now judge yourself, Miss Arden. Do not those three sharp little touches
+of reflected fire light up the whole drawing? I say it is admirable. It
+is really quite a beautiful little drawing."
+
+"I'm growing so vain! you will quite spoil me, Mr. Longcluse."
+
+"Truth will never spoil any one. Praise is very delightful. I have not
+had much of it in my day, but I think it makes one better as well as
+happier; and to speak simple truth of you, Miss Arden, is inevitably to
+praise you."
+
+"Those are compliments, Mr. Longcluse, and they bewilder me--anything
+one does not know how to answer; so I would rather you pointed me out
+four or five faults in my drawing, and I should be very well content if
+you said no more. I believe you know the scenery of Golden Friars."
+
+"I do. Beautiful, and so romantic, and full of legends! the whole place
+with its belongings is a poem."
+
+"So I think. And the hotel--the inn I prefer calling it--the 'George and
+Dragon,' is so picturesque and delightfully old, and so comfortable! Our
+head-quarters were there for two or three weeks. And did you see Childe
+Waylin's Leap?"
+
+"Yes, an awful scene; what a terrible precipice! I saw it to great
+advantage from a boat, while a thunderstorm was glaring and pealing over
+its summit. You know the legend, of course?"
+
+"No, I did not hear it."
+
+"Oh, it is a very striking one, and won't take many words to tell. Shall
+I tell it?"
+
+"Pray do," said Alice, with her bright look of expectation.
+
+He smiled sadly. Perhaps the story returned with an allegoric melancholy
+to his mind. With a sigh and a smile he continued--
+
+"Childe Waylin fell in love with a phantom lady, and walked day and
+night along the fells--people thought in solitude, really lured on by
+the beautiful apparition, which, as his love increased, grew less
+frequent, more distant and fainter, until at last, in the despair of his
+wild pursuit, he threw himself over that terrible precipice, and so
+perished. I have faith in instinct--faith in passion, which is but a
+form of instinct. I am sure he did wisely."
+
+"I sha'n't dispute it; it is not a case likely to happen often. These
+phantom ladies seem to have given up practice of late years, or else
+people have become proof against their wiles, and neither follow, nor
+adore, nor lament them."
+
+"I don't think these phantom ladies are at all out of date," said Mr.
+Longcluse.
+
+"Well, men have grown wiser, at all events."
+
+"No wiser, no happier; in such a case there is no room for what the
+world calls wisdom. Passion is absolute, and as for happiness, that or
+despair hangs on the turn of a die."
+
+"I have made that shadow a little more purple--do you think it an
+improvement?"
+
+"Yes, certainly. How well it throws out that bit of the ruin that
+catches the sunlight! You have made a very poetical sketch; you have
+given not merely the outlines, but the character of that singular
+place--the _genus loci_ is there."
+
+Just as Mr. Longcluse had finished this complimentary criticism, the
+door opened, and rather unexpectedly Richard Arden entered the room.
+Very decidedly _de trop_ at that moment, his friend thought Mr. Arden.
+Longcluse meant again to have turned the current of their talk into the
+channel he liked best, and here was interruption. But was not Richard
+Arden his sworn brother, and was he not sure to make an excuse of some
+sort, and take his leave, and thus restore him to his _tête-à-tête_.
+
+But was there--or was it fancy--a change scarcely perceptible, but
+unpleasant, in the manner of this sworn brother? Was it not very
+provoking, and a little odd, that he did not go away, but stayed on and
+on, till at length a servant came in with a message from Sir Reginald to
+Mr. Longcluse, to say that he would be very happy to see him whenever he
+chose to come to his room? Mr. Longcluse was profoundly vexed. Richard
+Arden, however, had resumed his old manner pretty nearly. Was the
+interruption he had persisted in designed, or only accidental? Could he
+suppose Richard Arden so stupid? He took his leave smiling, but with an
+uncomfortable misgiving at his heart.
+
+Richard Arden now proceeded in his own way, with some colouring and
+enormous suppression at discretion, to give his sister such an account
+as he thought would best answer of the interview he had just had with
+his father. Honestly related, what occurred between them was as
+follows:--
+
+Richard Arden had come on summons from his father. Without a special
+call, he never appeared at Mortlake while his father was there, and
+never in his absence but with an understanding that Sir Reginald was to
+hear nothing of it. He sat for a considerable time in the apartment that
+opened from his father's dressing-room. He heard the baronet's peevish
+voice ordering Crozier about. Something was dropped and broken, and the
+same voice was heard in angrier alto. Richard Arden looked out of the
+window and waited uncomfortably. He hated his father's pleadings with
+him, and he did not know for what purpose he had appointed this
+interview.
+
+The door opened, and Sir Reginald entered, limping a little, for his
+gout had returned slightly. He was leaning on a stick. His thin, dark
+face and prominent eyes looked angry, and he turned about and poked his
+dressing-room door shut with the point of his stick, before taking any
+notice of his son.
+
+"Sit down, if you please, in that chair," he said, pointing to the
+particular seat he meant him to occupy with two vicious little pokes, as
+if he were running a small-sword through it. "I wrote to ask you to
+come, Sir, merely to say a word respecting your sister, for whom, if not
+for other members of your family, you still retain, I suppose, some
+consideration and natural affection."
+
+Here was a pause which Richard Arden did not very well know what to do
+with. However, as his father's fierce eyes were interrogating him, he
+murmured--
+
+"Certainly, Sir."
+
+"Yes, and under that impression I showed you Lord Wynderbroke's letter.
+He is to dine here to-morrow at a quarter to eight--please to
+recollect--precisely. Do you hear?"
+
+"I do, Sir, everything."
+
+"You must meet him. Let us not appear more divided than we are. You know
+Wynderbroke--he's peculiar. Why the devil shouldn't we appear united? I
+don't say _be_ united, for you won't. But there is something owed to
+decency. I suppose you admit that? And before people, confound you, Sir,
+can't we appear affectionate? He's a quiet man, Wynderbroke, and makes a
+great deal of these domestic sentiments. So you'll please to show some
+respect and affection while he's present, and I mean to show some
+affection for you; and after that, Sir, you may go to the devil for me!
+I hope you understand?"
+
+"Perfectly, Sir."
+
+"As to Wynderbroke, the thing is settled--it is _there_." He pointed to
+his desk. "What I told you before, I tell you now--you must see that
+your sister doesn't make a fool of herself. I have nothing more to say
+to you at present--unless you have something to say to me?"
+
+This latter part of the sentence had something sharp and interrogative
+in it. There was just a chance, it seemed to imply, that his son might
+have something to say upon the one point that lay near the old man's
+heart.
+
+"Nothing, Sir," said Richard, rising.
+
+"No, no; so I supposed. You may go, Sir--nothing."
+
+Of this interview, one word of the real purport of which he could not
+tell to his sister, he gave her an account very slight indeed, but
+rather pleasant.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXVI.
+
+THE GARDEN AT MORTLAKE.
+
+
+Alice leaned back in her chair, smiling, and very much pleased.
+
+"So my father seems disposed to relent ever so little--and ever so
+little, you know, is better than nothing," said Richard Arden.
+
+"I'm so glad, Dick, that he wishes you to take your dinner with us
+to-morrow; it is a very good sign. It would be so delightful if you
+could be at home with us, as you used to be."
+
+"You are a good little soul, Alice--a dear little thing! This is very
+pretty," he said, looking at her drawing. "What is it?"
+
+"The ruined castle near the northern end of the lake at Golden Friars.
+Mr. Longcluse says it is pretty good. Is he to dine here, do you know?"
+
+"No--I don't know--I hope not," said Richard shortly.
+
+"Hope not! why?" said she. "I thought you liked him extremely."
+
+"I thought he was very well for a sort of outdoor acquaintance for
+_men_; but I don't even know _that_, now. There's no use in speaking to
+Lady May, but I warn you--you had better drop him. There is very little
+known about him, but there is a great deal that is not pleasant _said_."
+
+"Really?"
+
+"Yes, really."
+
+"But you used to speak so highly of him. I'm so surprised!"
+
+"I did not know half what people said of him. I've heard a great deal
+since."
+
+"But is it true?" asked Alice.
+
+"It is nothing to me whether it is true or not. It is enough if a man is
+talked about uncomfortably, to make it unpleasant to know him. We owe
+nothing to Mr. Longcluse; there is no reason why you should have an
+acquaintance that is not desirable. _I_ mean to drop him quietly, and
+you _can't_ know him, really you _mustn't_, Alice."
+
+"I don't know. It seems to me very hard," said Miss Alice spiritedly.
+"It is not many days since you spoke of him so highly; and I was quite
+pained when you came in just now. I don't know whether he perceived it,
+but I think he must. I only know that I thought you were so cold and
+strange to him, your manner so unlike what it always was before. I
+thought you had been quarrelling. I fancied he was vexed, and I felt
+quite sorry; and I don't think what you say, Richard, is manly, or like
+yourself. You used to praise him so, and fight his battles; and he is,
+though very distinguished in some ways, rather a stranger in London; and
+people, you told me, envy him, and try in a cowardly way to injure him;
+and what more easy than to hint discreditable things of people? and you
+did not believe a word of those reports when last you spoke of him; and
+considering that he had no people to stand by him in London, or to take
+his part, and that he may never even hear the things that are said by
+low people about him, don't you think it would be cowardly of us, and
+positively base to treat him so?"
+
+"Upon my word, Miss Alice, that is very good oratory indeed! I don't
+think I ever heard you so eloquent before, at least upon the wrongs of
+one of my sex."
+
+"Now, Dick, that sneer won't do. There may possibly be reasons why it
+would have been wiser never to have made Mr. Longcluse's acquaintance; I
+can't say. Those reasons, however, you treated very lightly indeed a
+little time ago--you know you did--and now, upon no better, you say you
+are going to cut him. _I_ can't bring myself to do any such thing. He is
+always looking in at Lady May's, and I can't help meeting him unless I
+am to cut her also. Now don't you see how odious I should appear, and
+how impossible it is?"
+
+"I won't argue it now, dear Alice; there is quite time enough. I shall
+come an hour before dinner, to-morrow, and we can have a quiet talk; and
+I am quite sure I shall convince you. Mind, I don't say we should insult
+him," he laughed. "I only say this, and I'll maintain it--and I'll show
+you why--that he is not a desirable acquaintance. We have taken him up
+very foolishly, and we _must_ drop him. And now, darling, good-bye."
+
+He kissed her--she kissed him. She looked grave for a moment after,
+after he had run down the stairs. He has quarrelled with Mr. Longcluse
+about something, she thought, as she stood at the window with the tip of
+her finger to her lip, looking at her brother as he mounted the showy
+horse which had cantered with him up and down Rotten Row for two hours
+or more, before he had ridden out to Mortlake. She saw him now ride
+away.
+
+It was near eight o'clock, and all this time Mr. Longcluse had been in
+confidence with Sir Reginald about his miserable mortgage. Mr. Longcluse
+was cautious; but there floated in his mind certain possible
+contingencies, under which he might perhaps make the financial
+adjustment, which Sir Reginald desired, very easy indeed to the worthy
+baronet.
+
+It was the tempting hour of evening when the birds begin to sing, and
+the level beams from the west glorify all objects. Alice put on her hat
+and ran out to the old gardens of Mortlake. They are enclosed in a grey
+wall, and lie one above the other in three terraces, with tall standard
+fruit trees, so old that their fruit was now dwarfed in size to half its
+earlier bearings, standing high with a dark and sylvan luxuriance, and
+at this moment, sheltering among their sunlit leaves, nestle and flutter
+the small birds whose whistlings cheer and sadden the evening air. Every
+tree and bush that bore fruit, in this old garden, had grown quite
+beyond the common stature of its kind, and a good gardener would have
+cut them all down fifty years ago. But there was a kind of sylvan and
+stately beauty in those wonderful lofty pear-trees, with their dense
+dark foliage, and in the standard cherries so tall and prim, and
+something homely and comfortable in the great straggling apples and
+plums, dappled with grey lichens and tufted with moss. There were
+flowers as well as fruits, of all sorts, in this garden. All its
+arrangements were out of date. There was an air, not actually of
+neglect--for it was weeded, and the walks were trim and gravelled--but
+of carelessness and rusticity, not unpleasant, in the place. Trees were
+allowed to straggle and spread, and rise aloft in the air, just as they
+pleased. Tall roses climbed the walls about the door, and clustered in
+nodding masses overhead; and no end of pretty annuals and other flowers,
+quite out of fashion, crowded the dishevelled currant bushes, and the
+forest of raspberries. Here and there were very tall myrtles, and the
+quince, and obsolete medlars, were discoverable among the other
+fruit-trees. The summits of the walls were in some places crowned, to
+the scandal of all decent gardening, with ivy, and a carved shaft in the
+centre of each garden supported a sun-dial as old as the Hall itself.
+
+There are fancies, as well as likings and lovings. Where there is a real
+worship, however cautiously masked--and Mr. Longcluse was by no means
+so--it is never a mystery to a clever girl. And such adoration, although
+it be not at all reciprocated, is sometimes hard to part with. There is
+something of the nature of compassion, with a little gratitude, perhaps,
+mingling in the pang which a gentle lady feels at having to discharge
+for ever an honest love and a true servant, and send him away to
+solitary suffering for her sake. Some little pang of reproach of this
+sensitive kind had, perhaps, armed her against her brother's sudden
+sentence of exclusion pronounced against Mr. Longcluse.
+
+The evening sunlight travelled over the ivy on the discoloured wall, and
+glittered on the leaves of the tall fruit-trees, in whose thick foliage
+the birds were still singing their vespers. Walking down the broad walk
+towards the garden-door, she felt the saddening influence of the hour
+returning; and as she reached the door, overclustered with roses, it
+opened, and Mr. Longcluse stood in the shadow before her.
+
+Miss Arden, thus surprised in the midst of thoughts which at that moment
+happened to be employed about him, showed for a second, as she suddenly
+stopped, something in her beautiful face almost amounting to
+embarrassment.
+
+"I was called away so suddenly to see Sir Reginald, that I went without
+saying good-bye; so I ran up to the drawing-room, and the servant told
+me I should probably find you here; and, really without reflecting--I
+act, I'm afraid, so much from impulse that I might appear very
+impertinent--I ventured to follow. What a beautiful evening! How
+charming the light! You, who are such an artist, and understand the
+poetry of colour so, must admire this cloister-like garden, so
+beautifully illuminated."
+
+Was Mr. Longcluse also a very little embarrassed as he descanted thus on
+light and colour?
+
+"It is a very old garden and does very little credit, I'm afraid, to our
+care; but I greatly prefer it to our formal gardens and all their
+finery, in Yorkshire."
+
+She moved her hand as if she expected Mr. Longcluse to take it and his
+leave, for it was high time her visitor should "order his wings and be
+off the west," in which quarter, as we know, lay Mr. Longcluse's
+habitation. He had stepped in, however, and the door closed softly
+before the light evening breeze that swung it gently. She was standing
+under the wild canopy of roses, and he under the sterner arch of grooved
+and fluted stone that overhung the doorway.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXVII.
+
+WINGED WORDS.
+
+
+"I was afraid I had vexed your brother somehow," said Mr. Longcluse--"I
+thought he seemed to meet me a little formally. I should be so sorry if
+I had annoyed him by any accident!"
+
+He paused, and Miss Arden said, half laughing--"Oh, don't you know, Mr.
+Longcluse, that people are out of spirits sometimes, and now and then a
+little offended with all the world? It is nothing, of course."
+
+"What a fib!" whispered conscience in the young lady's pretty ear, while
+she smiled and blushed.
+
+Again she raised her hand a little, expecting Mr. Longcluse's farewell.
+But she looked a great deal too beautiful for a farewell. Mr. Longcluse
+could not deny himself a minute more, and he said, "It is a year, Miss
+Arden, since I first saw you."
+
+"Is it really? I daresay."
+
+"Yes, at Lady May Penrose's. Yes, I remember it distinctly--so
+distinctly that I shall never forget any circumstance connected with it.
+It is exactly a year and four days. You smile, Miss Arden, because for
+you the event can have had no interest; for me it is different--how
+different I will not say."
+
+Miss Arden coloured and then grew pale. She was very much embarrassed.
+She was about to say a word to end the interview, and go. Perhaps Mr.
+Longcluse was, as he said, impulsive--too precipitate and impetuous. He
+raised his hand entreatingly,--
+
+"Oh, Miss Arden, pray, only a word!--I must speak it. Ever since
+then--ever since that hour--I have been the slave of a single thought; I
+have worshipped before one beautiful image, with an impious adoration,
+for there is nothing--no sacrifice, no crime--I would shrink from for
+your sake. You can make of me what you will; all I possess, all my
+future, every thought and feeling and dream--all are yours. No, no;
+don't interrupt the few half desperate words I have to speak, they may
+move you to pity. Never before, in a life of terrible vicissitude, of
+much suffering, of many dangers, have I seen the human being who could
+move me as you have done. I did not believe my seared heart capable of
+passion. And I stand now aghast at what I have spoken. I stand at the
+brink of a worse death, by the word that trembles on your lips, than the
+cannon's mouth could give me. I see I have spoken rashly--I see it in
+your face--oh, Heaven! I see what you would say."
+
+His hands were clasped in desperate supplication, as he continued; and
+the fitful breeze shook the roses above them, and the fading leaves fell
+softly in a shower about his feet.
+
+"No, don't speak--your silence is sacred. I sha'n't misinterpret--I
+conjure you, don't answer! Forget that I have spoken. Oh! let it, in
+mercy, be all forgotten, and let us meet again as if there never had
+been this moment of madness, and in pity--as you look for mercy--forget
+it and forgive it!"
+
+He waited for no answer: he was gone: the door closed as it was before.
+Another breath of wind ruffled the roses, and a few more sere leaves
+fell where he had just been standing. She drew a long breath, like one
+awaking from a vision. She was trembling slightly. Never before had she
+seen such agony in a human face! All had happened so suddenly. It was an
+effort to believe it real. It seemed as if she could see nothing while
+he spoke, but that intense, pale face. She heard nothing but his deep
+and thrilling words. Now it seemed as if flowers, and trees, and wall,
+and roses, all emerged suddenly again from mist, and as if all the birds
+had resumed their singing after a silence.
+
+"Forget it--forgive it! Let it, as you look for mercy, be all forgotten.
+Let us meet again as if it never was." This strange petition still rang
+in the ears of the astonished girl.
+
+She was still too much flurried by the shock of this wild and sudden
+outbreak of passion, and appeal to mercy, quite to see her true course
+in the odd combination that had arisen. She was a little angry, and a
+little flattered. There was a confusion of resentment and compassion.
+What business had this Mr. Longcluse to treat her to those heroics! What
+right had he to presume that he would be listened to? How dared he ask
+her to treat all that had happened as if it had never been? How dared he
+seek to found on this unwarrantable liberty relations of mystery between
+them? How dared he fancy that she would consent to play at this game of
+deception with him?
+
+Mingled with these angry thoughts, however, were the recollections of
+his homage, his tone of melancholy deference ever since she had known
+him, and his admiration.
+
+Underlying all his trifling talk, there had always been toward her a
+respect which flattered her, which could not have been exceeded had she
+been an empress in her own right. No, if he had said more than he had
+any right to suppose would be listened to, the extravagance was due to
+no want of respect for her, but to the vehemence of passion.
+
+He was driving now into town, at a great pace. His cogitations were
+still more perturbed. Had he, by one frantic precipitation, murdered his
+best hopes?
+
+One consolation at least he had. Being a man, not without reason, prone
+to suspicion, he had a deep conviction that, for some reason, Richard
+Arden was opposed to his suit, and had already begun to work upon Miss
+Arden's mind to his prejudice. His best chance, then, he still thought,
+was to anticipate that danger by a declaration. If that declaration
+could only be forgiven, and the little scene at old Mortlake garden door
+sponged out, might not his chances stand better far than before? Would
+not the past, though never spoken of, give meaning, fire, and melancholy
+to things else insignificant, and keep him always before her, and her
+alone, be his demeanour and language ever so reserved and cold, as an
+impassioned lover? Did not his knowledge of human nature assure him that
+these relations of mystery would, more than any other, favour his
+fortunes?
+
+"That she should consign what has passed, in a few impetuous moments, to
+oblivion and silence, is no unreasonable prayer, and one as easy to
+grant as to will it. She will think it over, and, for my part, I will
+meet her as if nothing had ever happened to change our trifling but
+friendly relations. I wish I knew what Richard Arden was about. I soon
+shall. Yes, I shall--I soon shall."
+
+An opportunity seemed to offer sooner even than he had hoped; for as he
+drove towards St. James's Street, passing one of Richard Arden's clubs,
+he saw that young gentleman ascending the steps with Lord Wynderbroke.
+
+Longcluse stopped his brougham, jumped out, and overtook Richard Arden
+in the hall, where he stood, taking his letters from the hall-porter.
+
+"How d'ye do, again? I sha'n't detain you a minute. I have had a long
+talk with your father about business," said Longcluse, seizing the topic
+most likely to secure a few minutes, and speaking very low. "You can
+bring me into a room here, and I'll tell you all that is necessary in
+two minutes."
+
+"Certainly," said Richard, yielding to his curiosity. "I have only two
+or three minutes. I dine here with a friend, who is at this moment
+ordering dinner; so, you see, I am rather hurried."
+
+He opened a door, and looking in said--
+
+"Yes, we shall be quite to ourselves here."
+
+Longcluse shut the door. There was no one to overhear them.
+
+Richard Arden sat down on a sofa, and Mr. Longcluse threw himself into a
+chair.
+
+"And what did he say?" asked Richard.
+
+"They want to raise his interest on the Yorkshire estate; and he says
+you won't help him; but that of course is your affair, and I declined,
+point-blank, to intervene in it. And before I go further, it strikes me,
+as it did to-day at Mortlake, that your manner to me has undergone a
+slight change."
+
+"Has it? I did not mean it, I assure you," said Richard Arden, with a
+little laugh.
+
+"Oh! yes, Arden, it _has_, and you must know it, and--pardon me--you
+must _intend_ it also; and now I want to know what I have done, or how I
+have hurt you, or who has been telling lies of me?"
+
+"Nothing of all these, that I know of," said Richard, with a cold little
+laugh.
+
+"Well, of course, if you prefer it, you may decline an explanation. I
+must however, remind you, because it concerns my happiness, and possibly
+other interests dearer to me than my life, too nearly to be trifled
+with, that you heard all I said respecting your sister with the
+friendliest approbation and encouragement. You knew as much and as
+little about me then as you do now. I am not conscious of having said or
+done anything to warrant the slightest change in your feelings or
+opinion; and in your manner there _is_ a change, and a very decided
+change, and I tell you frankly I can't understand it."
+
+Thus directly challenged, Richard Arden looked at him hard for a moment.
+He was balancing in his mind whether he should evade or accept the
+crisis. He preferred the latter.
+
+"Well, I can only say I did not intend to convey anything by my manner;
+but, as you know, when there is anything in one's mind it is not always
+easy to prevent its affecting, as you say, one's manner. I am not sorry
+you have asked me, because I spoke without reflection the other day. No
+one should answer, I really think, for any one else, in ever so small a
+matter, in this world."
+
+"But you didn't--you spoke only for yourself. You simply promised me
+your friendship, your kind offices--you said, in fact, all I could have
+hoped for."
+
+"Yes, perhaps--yes, I may, I suppose I did. But don't you see, dear
+Longcluse, things may come to mind, on thinking over."
+
+"_What_ things?" demanded Longcluse quickly, with a sudden energy that
+called a flush to his temples; and fire gleamed for a moment from his
+deep-set, gloomy eyes.
+
+"What things? Why, young ladies are not always the most intelligible
+problems on earth. I think you ought to know that; and really I do
+think, in such matters, it is far better that they should be left to
+themselves as much as possible; and I think, besides, that there are
+some difficulties that did not strike us. I mean, that I now see that
+there really are great difficulties--insuperable difficulties."
+
+"Can you define them?" said Longcluse coldly.
+
+"I don't want to vex you, Longcluse, and I don't want to quarrel."
+
+"That's extremely kind of you."
+
+"I don't know whether you are serious, but it is quite true. I don't
+wish any unpleasantness between us. I don't think I need say more than
+that; having thought it over, I don't see how it could ever be."
+
+"Will you give me your reasons?"
+
+"I really don't see that I can add anything in particular to what I have
+said."
+
+"I think, Mr. Arden, considering all that has passed between us on this
+subject, that you are _bound_ to let me know your reasons for so marked
+a change of opinion."
+
+"I can't agree with you, Mr. Longcluse. I don't see in the least why I
+need tell you my particular reasons for the opinion I have expressed. My
+sister can act for herself, and I certainly shall not account to you for
+my reasons or opinions in the matter."
+
+Mr. Longcluse's pale face grew whiter, and his brows knit, as he fixed a
+momentary stare on the young man; but he mastered his anger, and said in
+a cold tone--
+
+"We disagree totally upon that point, and I rather think the time will
+come when you _must_ explain."
+
+"I have no more to say upon the subject, Sir, except this," said Arden,
+very tartly, "that it is certain your hopes can never lead to anything,
+and that I object to your continuing your visits at Mortlake."
+
+"Why, the house does not belong to you--it belongs to Sir Reginald
+Arden, who objects to your visits and receives mine. Your ideas seem a
+little confused," and he laughed gently and coldly.
+
+"Very much the reverse, Sir. I object to my sister being exposed to the
+least chance of annoyance from your visits. I protest against it, and
+you will be so good as to understand that I distinctly forbid them."
+
+"The young lady's father, I presume, will hardly ask your advice in the
+matter, and _I_ certainly shall not ask your leave. I shall call when I
+please, so long as I am received at Mortlake, and shall direct my own
+conduct, without troubling you for counsel in my affairs." Mr. Longcluse
+laughed again icily.
+
+"And so shall I, mine," said Arden sharply.
+
+"You have no right to treat anyone so," said Longcluse angrily--"as if
+one had broken his honour, or committed a crime."
+
+"A crime!" repeated Richard Arden. "Oh! _That_, indeed, would pretty
+well end all relations."
+
+"Yes, as, perhaps, you shall find," answered Longcluse, with sudden and
+oracular ferocity.
+
+Each gentleman had gone a little farther than he had at first intended.
+Richard Arden had a proud and fierce temper when it was roused. He was
+near saying what would have amounted to insult. It was a chance opening
+of the door that prevented it. Both gentlemen had stood up.
+
+"Please, Sir, have you done with the room, Sir?" asked the man.
+
+"Yes," said Longcluse, and laughed again as he turned on his heel.
+
+"Because three gentlemen want the room, if it's not engaged, Sir. And
+Lord Wynderbroke is waiting for you, please, Mr. Arden."
+
+So with a little toss of his head, which he held unusually high, and a
+flushed and "glooming" countenance, Richard Arden marched a little
+swaggeringly forth, to his dinner _tête-à-tête_ with Lord Wynderbroke.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXVIII.
+
+STORIES ABOUT MR. LONGCLUSE.
+
+
+The irritation of this unpleasant interview soon subsided, but Mr.
+Longcluse's anxiety rather increased.
+
+Next day early in the afternoon he drove to Lady May's and she received
+him just as usual. He learned from her, without appearing to seek the
+information, that Alice Arden was still at Mortlake. His visit was one
+of but two or three minutes. He jumped into a hansom and drove out to
+Mortlake. He knocked. Man of the world as he was, his heart beat faster.
+
+"Is Miss Arden at home?"
+
+"No, Sir."
+
+"Not at home?"
+
+"Miss Arden is gone out, Sir."
+
+"Oh! perhaps in the garden?"
+
+"No, Sir; she has gone out, and won't be back for some time."
+
+The man spoke with the promptitude and decision of a servant instructed
+to deny his mistress to the visitor. He had not a card; he would call
+again another day.
+
+He heard the piano faintly, and, he thought, Alice's voice also; and
+certainly he saw Vivian Darnley in the drawing-room window, as his cab
+turned away from the door. With a swelling heart he drove into town. The
+portcullis, then, had fallen; access was denied him; and he should see
+her no more!
+
+Good Heaven! what had he done? He walked distractedly, for a while, up
+and down his study. Should he employ Lady May's intervention, and tell
+her the whole story? Good-natured Lady May! Perhaps she would undertake
+his cause, and plead for his re-admission. But was even that so certain?
+How could he tell what view she might take of the matter? And were she
+to intercede for him ever so vehemently, how could he tell that she had
+any chance of prevailing?
+
+No; on the whole it was better to be his own advocate. He would sit down
+then and there, and write to the offended or alarmed lady, and lay his
+piteous case before her in his own words and rely on her compassion,
+without an intervenient.
+
+How many letters he began, how many he even finished, and rejected, I
+need not tire you by telling. Some were composed in the first, others in
+the third person. Not one satisfied him. Here was the man of a million
+and more, who would dash off a note to his stock-broker, to buy or sell
+a hundred thousand pounds' worth of stock--who would draft a resolution
+of the bank of which he was the chairman, directing an operation which
+would make men open their eyes, without the tremor of a nerve or the
+hesitation of a moment--unmanned, helpless, distracted in the endeavour
+to write a note to a young and inexperienced girl!
+
+O beautiful sex! what a triumph is here! O Love! what fools will you not
+make of us poor masculine wiseacres! The letter he dispatched was in
+these terms. I daresay he had torn better ones to pieces:--
+
+    "DEAR MISS ARDEN,--I had hoped that my profound contrition might
+    have atoned for a momentary indiscretion--the declaration, though in
+    terms the most respectful, of feelings which I had not self-command
+    sufficient to suppress, and which had for nearly a year remained
+    concealed in my own breast. I am sure, Miss Arden, that you are
+    incapable of a gratuitous cruelty. Have I not sworn that one word to
+    recall the remembrance of that, to me, all but fatal madness shall
+    never escape my lips, in your presence? May I not entreat that you
+    will forget it, that you will forbear to pass upon me the agonising
+    sentence of exclusion? You shall never again have to complain of my
+    uttering one word that the merest acquaintance, who is permitted the
+    happiness of conversing with you, might not employ. You shall never
+    regret your forbearance. I shall never cease to bless you for it;
+    and whatever decision you arrive at, it shall be respected by me as
+    sacred law. I shall never cease to reverence and bless the hand that
+    spares or--afflicts me. May I be permitted this one melancholy hope,
+    may I be allowed to interpret your omitting to answer this miserable
+    letter as a concession of its prayer? Unless forbidden, I will
+    endeavour to construe your silence as oblivion.
+
+    "I have the honour to remain, dear Miss Arden, with deep compunction
+    and respect, but not altogether without hope in your mercy,
+
+    "Yours the most unhappy and distracted man in England,
+
+    "WALTER LONGCLUSE."
+
+Mr. Longcluse sealed this letter in its envelope, and addressed it. He
+would have liked to send it that moment, by his servant, but an odd
+shyness prevented. He did not wish his servants to conjure and put their
+heads together over it; he could not endure the idea; so with his own
+hand he dropped it in the post. Somewhat in the style of the old novel
+was this composition of Mr. Longcluse's--a little theatrical, and, one
+would have fancied, even affected; yet never was man more desperately
+sincere.
+
+Night came, and brought no reply. Was no news good news, or would the
+morning bring, perhaps from Richard Arden, a withering answer? Morning
+came, and no answer: what was he to conjecture?
+
+That day, in Grosvenor Square, he passed Richard Arden, who looked
+steadily and sternly a little to his right, and _cut_ him.
+
+It was a marked and decided cut. His ears tingled as if he had received
+a slap in the face. So things had assumed a very decided attitude
+indeed! Longcluse felt very oddly enraged, at first; then anxious. It
+was insulting that Richard Arden should have taken the initiative in
+dissolving relations. But had he not been himself studiously impertinent
+to Arden, in that brief colloquy of yesterday? He ought to have been
+prepared for this. Without explanation, and the shaking of hands, it was
+impossible that relations of amity should have been resumed between
+them. But Longcluse had been entirely absorbed by a threatened
+alienation that affected him much more nearly. There was a thesis for
+conjecture in the situation, which made him still more anxious. A very
+little time would probably clear all up.
+
+He was walking homeward, saying to himself as he went, "No, I shall find
+no answer; I should be a fool to fancy anything else;" and yet walking
+all the more quickly, as he approached his house, in the hope of the
+very letter which he affected, to himself, to have quite rejected as an
+impossibility. Some letters had come, but none from Mortlake. His letter
+to Alice was still unanswered. He was now in the agony of suspense and
+distraction.
+
+The same evening Richard Arden was talking about him, as he leaned with
+his elbow on the mantelpiece at Mortlake. He and Alice were alone in the
+drawing-room, awaiting the arrival of the little dinner-party. This, as
+you know, was to include Lord Wynderbroke, before whose advances, in
+Richard Arden's vision, Mr. Longcluse had waned, and even become an
+embarrassment and a nuisance.
+
+"It is easier to cut him than to explain," thought Richard Arden. "It
+bores one so inexpressibly, giving reasons for what one does, and I'm so
+glad he has saved me the trouble by his vulgar impertinence."
+
+They had talked for some time, Alice chiefly a listener. How was she
+affected toward Mr. Longcluse? He was agreeable; he flattered her; he
+was passionately in love with her. All but this latter condition she
+liked very well; but this was embarrassing, and quite impracticable. Who
+knows what that tiny spark we term a fancy, a whim, a _penchant_ might
+have grown to, had it not been blown away by this untimely gust? But,
+for my part, I don't think it ever would have grown to a matter of the
+heart. There was something in the way. A fancy is one thing, and passion
+quite another. Pique is a common state of mind, and comes and goes, and
+comes again, in many a courtship. But a liking that has once entered the
+heart cannot be torn out in a hasty moment, and takes a long time, and
+many a struggle, to kill.
+
+She was a little sorry, just then, to lose him so inevitably. Perhaps
+his letter, to which he had trusted to move her, had rendered the return
+of old relations impossible. In this letter she felt herself the owner
+of a secret--a secret which she could not keep without a sort of
+understanding growing up between them--which therefore she had no idea
+of keeping.
+
+She was resolved to tell it. The letter she had locked, in marked
+isolation, as if no property of hers, but simply a document that was in
+her keeping, in the pretty ormolu casket that stood on the drawing-room
+chimney-piece. She had intended showing it, and telling the story of the
+scene in the garden, to Richard. But he was speaking with a mysterious
+asperity of Mr. Longcluse, which made her hesitate. A very little thing,
+it seemed to her, might suffice to make a very violent quarrel out of a
+coldness. Instinctively, therefore, she refrained, and listened to
+Richard while, with his arm touching the casket on the chimney-piece, he
+descanted on the writer of the unknown letter.
+
+She experienced an odd feeling of insecurity as, in the course of his
+talk, his fingers began to trifle with the pretty fingers that stood out
+in relief upon the casket; for she knew that the ordeal of the pistol,
+discountenanced in England, was still in force on the Continent, and Mr.
+Longcluse's ideas were all Continental; and how near were those fingers
+to the letter which might suffice to explode the dangerous element that
+had already accumulated!
+
+"He has talked of us to his low companions; he chooses to associate with
+usurers and worse people; and he has been speaking of us in the most
+insolent terms."
+
+"Really!" said Alice. Her large eyes looked larger as they fixed on him.
+
+"Yes, and I'll tell you how I heard it. You must know, dear Alice, that
+I happened to want a little money; and when one does, the usual course
+is to borrow it. So I paid a visit to my harpy--and a harpy in need is a
+harpy indeed. Being hard up, he fleeced me; and the gentleman, I
+suppose, thinking he might be familiar, told me he was on confidential
+terms with Mr. Longcluse and wished me a good deal of joy. 'Of what?' I
+ventured to ask, for he had just hit me rather hard. 'Of your chance,'
+or, as he called it _chanshe_, he said, with a delightfully arch leer. I
+thought he meant I had backed the right horse for the Derby, but it
+turned out he meant our chance of inducing Mr. Longcluse to make up his
+mind to marry you. I was very near knocking him down; but a man who has
+one's bill for three hundred pounds must be respected. So I merely
+ventured to ask on whose authority he congratulated me, when it appeared
+it was on Mr. Longcluse's own, who, it seems, had said a great deal
+more, equally intolerable. In plain, coarse terms, he says that, being
+poor, we have conspired with you to secure him, Mr. Longcluse, for your
+husband. As to the fact of his having actually conveyed that, and to
+more people than one, there is and can be no doubt whatever. I can
+imagine, considering all things, nothing more vulgar, audacious, and
+cowardly."
+
+A blush of anger glowed in Alice's face. Richard Arden liked the proud
+fire that gleamed from her dark grey eyes. It satisfied him that his
+words were not lost.
+
+"I lighted on a man who knew more about him than I had learned before,"
+resumed Richard Arden. "He was suspected at Berlin of having been
+engaged in a conspiracy to pigeon Dacre and Wilmot, who were travelling.
+He did not appear, but he is said to have supplied the money, and had a
+lion's share of the spoil. There is no good in repeating these things
+generally, you know, because they are so hard to prove; and a fellow
+like that is dangerous. They say he is very litigious."
+
+"Upon my word, if your information is at all to be relied on, it is
+plain we _have_ made a great mistake. It is a disappointing world, but I
+could not have fancied him doing anything so low; and I must say for him
+that he was gentlemanlike and quiet, and very unlike the person he
+appears to be. I think I never heard of anything so outrageous! Vivian
+Darnley told me that he was a great duellist, and thought to be a very
+quarrelsome, dangerous companion abroad. But he had only heard this, and
+what you tell me is so much worse, so mean, so utterly intolerable!"
+
+"Oh! There's worse than that," said Richard, with a faint sinister
+smile.
+
+"What?" said she, returning it with an almost frightened gaze.
+
+"There was a very beautiful girl at the opera in Vienna; her name was
+Piccardi, a daughter of a good old Roman family. You can't imagine how
+admired she was! And she was thought to be on the point of marrying
+Count Baddenoff; Mr. Longcluse, it seems, chose to be in love with her;
+he was not then anything like so rich as he became afterwards--and this
+poor girl was killed."
+
+"Good heavens! Richard--what can you mean?"
+
+"I mean that she was assassinated, and that from that day Mr. Longcluse
+was never received in society in Vienna, and had to leave it."
+
+"You ought to tell May Penrose," said she, after a silence of dismay.
+
+"Not for the world," said Richard; "she talks enough for six--and
+where's the good? She'll only take up the cudgels for him, and we shall
+be in the centre of a pretty row."
+
+"Well, if you think it best----" she began.
+
+"Certainly," said he. And a silence followed.
+
+"Here is a carriage at the door," said Richard Arden. "Let us dismiss
+Longcluse, and look a little more like ourselves."
+
+That evening there came letters as usual to Mr. Longcluse, and among
+others a note from Lady May Penrose, reminding him of her little
+garden-party at Richmond next day.
+
+"By Jove!" he exclaimed, starting up and reading the cards on his
+chimney, "I thought it was the day after. It was very good-natured, poor
+old thing, her reminding me. I shall see Alice Arden there. Not one line
+does she vouchsafe. But is not she right? I think the more highly of her
+for not writing. I don't think she ought to write. Oh, Heaven grant she
+may meet me as usual? Does she mean it? If she did not, would she not
+have got her brother to write, or have written herself a cold line, to
+end our acquaintance?"
+
+So he tried to comfort himself, and to keep alive his dying hope by
+these artificial stimulants.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXIX.
+
+THE GARDEN PARTY.
+
+
+Next morning Mr. Longcluse rose with a sense of something before him.
+
+"So I shall see her to-day! If she's the girl I've thought her, she will
+meet me as usual. That frantic scene, in which I risked all on the turn
+of a die, will be forgotten. Hasty words, or precipitate letters, are
+passed over every day; the man who commits such follies, under a
+transitory insanity, is allowed the privilege of recalling them. There
+were no witnesses present to make forgiveness difficult. It all lies
+with her own good sense, and a heart proud but gentle. Let but those mad
+words be sponged out, and I am happy. Alice, if you forgive me, I
+forgive your brother, and take his name from where it is, and write it
+in my heart. Oh, beautiful Alice! will you belie your looks? Oh, clear
+bright mind! will you be clouded and perverted? Oh, gentle heart! can
+you be merciless?"
+
+Mr. Longcluse made his simple morning toilet very carefully. A very
+plain man, extremely ugly some pronounce him; yet his figure is good,
+his get-up unexceptionable, and altogether he is a most gentlemanlike
+man to look upon, and in his movements and attitudes, quite unstudied,
+there is an undefinable grace. His accent is a little foreign--the
+slightest thing in the world, and Lady May Penrose declares it is so
+very pretty. Then he is so agreeable, when he pleases; and he is so very
+rich!
+
+Some people wonder why he does not withdraw from all speculations,
+retire upon his enormous wealth, and with his elegant tastes, and the
+art of being magnificent without glare, even gorgeous without
+vulgarity--for has he not shown this refined talent in the service of
+others, who have taken him into council?--he could eclipse all the world
+in splendid elegance, and make his way, _force d'argent_, to the
+pinnacle of half the world's ambition. Were those stories true that
+Richard Arden told his sister on the night before?
+
+I don't think that Richard Arden stuck at trifles, where he had an
+object to gain, and I don't believe a word of his story of Mr.
+Longcluse's insulting talk. It was not his way to boast and vapour; and
+he had a secret contempt for many of the Jewish and other agents whom he
+chose to employ. But undoubtedly Mr. Longcluse had the reputation among
+his discounting admirers of being a dangerous man to quarrel with; and
+also it was true that he had fought three or four savage duels in the
+course of his Continental life. There were other stories,
+unauthenticated, unpleasant. These were whispered with sneers by Mr.
+Longcluse's enemies. But there's a divinity doth hedge a King Croesus,
+and his character bore a charmed life, among the missiles that would
+have laid that of many a punier man in the dust.
+
+With an agitated heart, Mr. Longcluse approached the pretty little place
+known as Raleigh Court, to which he had been invited. Through the
+quaint, old-fashioned gate-way, under the embowering branches of tall
+trees, he drove up a short, broad avenue, clumped at each side with old
+timber, to the open hall-door of the pretty Elizabethan house. Carriages
+of all sorts were discernible under the branches, assembled at the
+further side to the right of the hall-door, over the wide steps of which
+was spread a scarlet cloth. Croquet parties were already visible on the
+shorn grass, under boughs that spread high in the air, and cast a
+pleasant shadow on the sward. Groups were strolling among the
+flower-beds--some walking in, some emerging from the open door--and the
+scene presented the usual variety of dress, and somewhat listless to-ing
+and fro-ing.
+
+Did anyone, of all the guests of Lady May, mask so profound an
+agitation, under the conventional smile, as that which beat at Walter
+Longcluse's heart? Two or three people whom he knew, he met and talked
+to--some for a minute, others for a longer time--as he drew near the
+steps. His eye all the time was busy in the search after one pretty
+figure, the least glimpse of which he would have recognised with the
+thrill of a sure intuition, far or near. He would have liked to ask the
+friends he met whether the Ardens were here. But what would have been
+easy to him a week before, was now an effort for which he could not find
+courage.
+
+He entered the hall, quaint and lofty, rising to the entire height of
+the house, with two galleries, one above the other, surrounding it on
+three sides. Ancestors of the late Mr. Penrose, who had left all this
+and a great deal more to his sorrowing relict, stood on the panelled
+walls at full length--some in ruffs and trunk-hose, others in perukes
+and cut-velvet, one with a bâton in his hand, and three with falcon on
+fist--all stately and gentlemanlike, according to their several periods;
+with corresponding ladies, some stiff and pallid, who figured in the
+days of the virgin queen, and others in the graceful _déshabille_ of Sir
+Peter Lely. This quaint oak hall was now resonant with the buzz and
+clack of modern gossip, prose, and flirtation, and a great deal crowded,
+notwithstanding its commodious proportions. Lady May was still receiving
+her company near the doorway of the first drawing-room, and her kindly
+voice was audible from within as the visitor approached. Mr. Longcluse
+was very graciously received.
+
+"I want you so particularly, to introduce you to Lady Hummington. She is
+such a charming person. She is so thoroughly up in German literature.
+She's a great deal too learned for me, but you and she will understand
+one another so perfectly, and you will be quite charmed with her. Mr.
+Addlings, did you happen to see Lady Hummington, or have you any idea
+where she's gone?"
+
+"I shall go and look for her, with pleasure. Is not she the tall lady
+with grey hair? Shall I tell her you want to say a word to her?"
+
+"You're very kind, but I'll not mind, thank you very much. It is so
+provoking, Mr. Longcluse! you would have been perfectly charmed with
+her."
+
+"I shall be more fortunate, by-and-by, perhaps," said Mr. Longcluse.
+"Are any of our friends from Mortlake here?" he added, looking a little
+fixedly in her eyes, for he was thinking whether Alice had betrayed his
+secret, and was trying to read an answer there.
+
+Lady May answered quite promptly--
+
+"Oh, yes, Alice is here, and her brother. He went out that way with some
+friends," she said, indicating with a little nod a door which, from a
+second hall, opened on a terrace. "I asked him to show them the three
+fountains. You must see them also; they are in the Dutch garden; they
+were put up in the reign of George the First.--How d'ye do, Mrs.
+Frumply? How d'ye do, Miss Frumply?"
+
+"What a charming house!" exclaims Mrs. Frumply, "and what a day! We were
+saying, Arabella and I, as we drove out, that you must really have an
+influence with the clerk of the weather, ha, ha, ha! didn't we,
+Arabella? So charming!"
+
+Lady May laughed affably, and said--"Won't you and your daughter go in
+and take some tea? Mr. (she was going to call on Longcluse, but he had
+glided away)--Oh, Mr. Darnley!"
+
+And the introduction was made, and Vivian Darnley, with Mrs. Frumply on
+his arm, attended by her daughter Arabella, did as he was commanded and
+got tea for that simpering lady, and fruit and Naples biscuits, and
+plum-cake, and was rewarded with the original joke about the clerk of
+the weather.
+
+Mr. Longcluse, in the meantime, had passed the door indicated by Lady
+May, and stood upon the short terrace that overlooked the pretty
+flower-garden cut out in grotesque patterns, so that looking down upon
+its masses of crimson, blue, and yellow, as he leaned on the balustrade,
+it showed beneath his eye like a wide deep-piled carpet, on the green
+ground of which were walking groups of people, the brilliant hues of the
+ladies' dresses rivalling the splendour of the verbenas, and making
+altogether a very gay picture.
+
+The usual paucity of male attendance made Mr. Longcluse's task of
+observation easy. He was looking for Richard Arden's well-known figure
+among the groups, thinking that probably Alice was not far off. But he
+was not there, nor was Alice; and Walter Longcluse, gloomy and lonely in
+this gay crowd, descended the steps at the end of this terrace, and
+sauntered round again to the front of the house, now and then passing
+some one he knew, with an exchange of a smile or a bow, and then lost
+again in the Vanity Fair of strange faces and voices.
+
+Now he is at the hall door--he mounts the steps. Suddenly, as he stands
+upon the level platform at top, he finds himself within four feet of
+Richard Arden. He looks on him as he might on the carved pilaster, at
+the side of the hall door; no one could have guessed, by his inflexible
+but unaffected glance, that he and Mr. Arden had ever been acquainted.
+The younger man showed something in his countenance, a sudden hauteur, a
+little elevation of the chin, a certain sternness, more melodramatic,
+though less effective, than the simple blank of Mr. Longcluse's glance.
+
+That gentleman looked about coolly. He was in search of Miss Arden, but
+he did not see her. He entered the hall again, and Richard Arden a
+little awkwardly resumed his conversation, which had suddenly subsided
+into silence on Longcluse's appearance.
+
+By this time Lady May was more at ease, having received all her company
+that were reasonably punctual, and in the hall Longcluse now encountered
+her.
+
+"Have you seen Mr. Arden?" she inquired of him.
+
+"Yes, he's at the door, at the steps."
+
+"Would you mind telling him kindly that I want to say a word to him?"
+
+"Certainly, most happy," said Longcluse, without any distinct plan as to
+how he was to execute her awkward commission.
+
+"Thank you very much. But, oh! dear, here is Lady Hummington, and she
+wishes so much to know you; I'll send some one else. I must introduce
+you, come with me--Lady Hummington, I want to introduce my friend, Mr.
+Longcluse." So Mr. Longcluse was presented to Lady Hummington, who was
+very lean, and a "blue," and most fatiguingly well up in archæology, and
+all new books on dry and difficult subjects. So that Mr. Longcluse felt
+that he was, in _Joe Willett's_ phrase, "tackled" by a giant, and was
+driven to hideous exertions of attention and memory to hold his own.
+When Lady Hummington, to whom it was plain kind Lady May, with an
+unconscious cruelty, had been describing Mr. Longcluse's accomplishments
+and acquirements, had taken some tea and other refection, and when Mr.
+Longcluse's kindness "had her wants supplied," and she, like Scott's
+"old man" in the "Lay of the Last Minstrel," "was gratified," she
+proposed visiting the music-room, where she had heard a clever organist
+play, on a harmonium, three distinct tunes at the same time, which being
+composed on certain principles, that she explained with much animation
+and precision, harmonised very prettily.
+
+So this clever woman directed, and Mr. Longcluse led, the way to the
+music-room.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXX.
+
+HE SEES HER.
+
+
+Mr. Longcluse's attention was beginning to wander a little, and his eyes
+were now busy in search of some one whom he had not found; and knowing
+that the duration of people's stay at a garden-party is always
+uncertain, and that some of those gaily-plumed birds who make the
+flutter, and chirping, and brilliancy of the scene, hardly alight before
+they take wing again, he began to fear that Alice Arden had gone.
+
+"Just like my luck!" he thought bitterly; "and if she is gone, when
+shall I have an opportunity of seeing her again?"
+
+Lady Hummington's well-informed conversation had been, unheeded,
+accompanying the ruminations and distractions of this "passionate
+pilgrim;" and as they approached the door of the music-room, the little
+crush there brought the learned lady's lips so near to his ear, that
+with a little start he heard the words--"All strictly arithmetical, you
+know, and adjusted by the relative frequency of vibrations. That theory,
+I am sure, you approve, Mr. Longcluse."
+
+To which the distracted lover made answer, "I quite agree with you, Lady
+Hummington."
+
+The music-room at Raleigh Court is an apartment of no great size, and
+therefore when, with Lady Hummington on his arm, he entered, it was at
+no great distance that he saw Miss Arden standing near the window, and
+talking with an elderly gentleman, whose appearance he did not know, but
+who seemed to be extremely interested in her conversation. She saw him,
+he had not a doubt, for she turned a little quickly, and looked ever so
+little more directly out at the window, and a very slight tinge flushed
+her cheek. It was quite plain, he thought, and a dreadful pang stole
+through his breast, that she did not choose to see him--quite plain that
+she did see him--and he thought, from a subtle scrutiny of her beautiful
+features, quite plain also that it gave her pain to meet without
+acknowledging him.
+
+Lady Hummington was conversing with volubility; but the air felt icy,
+and there was a strange trembling at his heart, and this, in many
+respects, hard man of the world, felt that the tears were on the point
+of welling from his eyes. The struggle was but for a few moments, and he
+seemed quite himself again. Lady Hummington wished to go to the end of
+the room where the piano was, and the harmonium on which the organist
+had performed his feat of the three tunes. That artist was taking his
+departure, having a musical assignation of some kind to keep. But to
+oblige Lady Hummington, who had heard of Thalberg's doing something of
+the kind, he sat down and played an elaborate piece of music on the
+piano with his thumbs only. This charming effort over, and applauded,
+the performer took his departure. And Lady Hummington said--
+
+"I am told, Mr. Longcluse, that you are a very good musician."
+
+"A very indifferent performer, Lady Hummington."
+
+"Lady May Penrose tells a very different tale."
+
+"Lady May Penrose is too kind to be critical," said Longcluse; and as he
+maintained this dialogue, his eye was observing every movement of Alice
+Arden. She seemed, however, to have quite made up her mind to stand her
+ground. There was a strange interest, to him, even in being in the same
+room with her. Perhaps Miss Arden saw that Mr. Longcluse's movements
+were dependent upon those of the lady whom he accompanied, and might
+have thought that, the musician having departed, their stay in that room
+would not be very long.
+
+"I should be so glad to hear you sing, Mr. Longcluse," pursued Lady
+Hummington. "You have been in the East, I think; have you any of the
+Hindostanee songs? There are some, I have read, that embody the theories
+of the Brahmin philosophy."
+
+"Long-winded songs, I fancy," said Mr. Longcluse, laughing; "it is a
+very voluminous philosophy, but the truth is, I've got a little cold,
+and I should not like to make a bad impression so early."
+
+"But surely there are some simple little things, without very much
+compass, that would not distress you. How pretty those old English songs
+are that they are collecting and publishing now! I mean songs of
+Shakespeare's time--Ben Jonson's, Beaumont and Fletcher's, and
+Massinger's, you know. Some of them are so extremely pretty!"
+
+"Oh! yes, I'll sing you one of those with pleasure," said he with a
+strange alacrity, quite forgetting his cold, sitting down at the
+instrument, and striking two or three fierce chords.
+
+I am sure that most of my readers are acquainted with that pretty old
+English song, of the time of James the First, entitled, "Once I Loved a
+Maiden Fair." That was the song he chose.
+
+Never, perhaps, did he sing so well before, with a fluctuation of pathos
+and scorn, tenderness and hatred, expressed with real dramatic fire, and
+with more power of voice than at moments of less excitement he
+possessed. He sang it with real passion, and produced, exactly where he
+wished, a strange but unavowed sensation. He omitted one verse, and the
+song as he delivered it was thus:--
+
+    "Once I loved a maiden fair,
+       But she did deceive me:
+     She with Venus could compare,
+       In my mind, believe me.
+     She was young, and among
+       All our maids the sweetest:
+     Now I say, Ah, well-a-day!
+       Brightest hopes are fleetest.
+
+     Maidens wavering and untrue
+       Many a heart have broken;
+     Sweetest lips the world e'er knew
+       Falsest words have spoken.
+     Fare thee well, faithless girl,
+       I'll not sorrow for thee:
+     Once I held thee dear as pearl,
+       Now I do abhor thee."
+
+When he had finished the song, he said coldly, but very distinctly, as
+he rose--
+
+"I like that song, there is a melancholy psychology in it. It is a song
+worthy of Shakespeare himself."
+
+Lady Hummington urged him with an encore, but he was proof against her
+entreaties. And so, after a little, she took Mr. Longcluse's arm; and
+Alice felt relieved when the room was rid of them.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXXI.
+
+ABOUT THE GROUNDS.
+
+
+Lady Hummington, well pleased at having found in Mr. Longcluse what she
+termed a kindred mind, was warned by the hour that she must depart. She
+took her leave of Mr. Longcluse with regret, and made him promise to
+come to luncheon with her on the Thursday following. Mr. Longcluse
+called her carriage for her, and put in, besides herself, her maiden
+sister and two daughters, who all exhibited the family leanness, with
+noses more or less red and aquiline, and small black eyes, set rather
+close together.
+
+As he ascended the steps he was accosted by a damsel in distress.
+
+"Mr. Longcluse, I'm so glad to see you! You must do a very good-natured
+thing," said handsome Miss Maubray, smiling on him. "I came here with
+old Sir Arthur and Lady Tramway, and I've lost them; and I've been bored
+to death by a Mr. Bagshot, and I've sent him to look for my
+pocket-handkerchief in the tea-room; and I want you, as you hope for
+mercy, to show it now, and rescue me from my troubles."
+
+"I'm too much honoured. I'm only too happy, Miss Maubray. I shall put
+Mr. Bagshot to death, if you wish it, and Sir Arthur and Lady Tramway
+shall appear the moment you command."
+
+Mr. Longcluse was talking his nonsense with the high spirits which
+sometimes attend a painful excitement.
+
+"I told them I should get to that tree if I were lost in the crowd, and
+that they would be sure to find me under it after six o'clock. Do take
+me there; I am so afraid of Mr. Bagshot's returning!"
+
+So over the short grass that handsome girl walked, with Mr. Longcluse at
+her side.
+
+"I'll sit at this side, thank you; I don't want to be seen by Mr.
+Bagshot."
+
+So she sat down, placing herself at the further side of the great trunk
+of the old chestnut-tree. Mr. Longcluse stood nearly opposite, but so
+placed as to command a view of the hall-door steps. He was still
+watching the groups that emerged, with as much interest as if his life
+depended on the order of their to-ing and fro-ing. But, in spite of
+this, very soon Miss Maubray's talk began to interest him.
+
+"Whom did Alice Arden come with?" asked Miss Maubray. "I should like to
+know; because, if I should lose my people, I must find some one to take
+me home."
+
+"With her brother, I fancy."
+
+"Oh! yes, to be sure--I saw him here. I forgot. But Alice is very
+independent, just now, of his protection," and she laughed.
+
+"How do you mean?"
+
+"Oh! Lord Wynderbroke, of course, takes care of her while she's here. I
+saw them walking about together, so happy! I suppose it is all settled."
+
+"About Lord Wynderbroke?" suggested Longcluse, with a gentle
+carelessness, as if he did not care a farthing--as if a dreadful pain
+had not at that moment pierced his heart.
+
+"Yes, Lord Wynderbroke. Why, haven't you heard of that?"
+
+"Yes, I believe--I think so. I am sure I have heard something of it; but
+one hears so many things, one forgets, and I don't know him. What kind
+of man is he?"
+
+"He's hard to describe; he's not disagreeable, and he's not dull; he has
+a great deal to say for himself about pictures, and the East, and the
+Crimea, and the opera, and all the people at all the courts in Europe,
+and he ought to be amusing; but I think he is the driest person I ever
+talked to. And he is really good-natured; but I think him much more
+teasing than the most ill-natured man alive, he's so insufferably
+punctual and precise."
+
+"You know him very well, then?" said Longcluse, with an effort to
+contribute his share to the talk.
+
+"Pretty well," said the young lady, with just a slight tinge flushing
+her haughty cheek. "But no one, who has been a week in the same house
+with him, could fail to see all that."
+
+Miss Maubray herself, I am told, had hopes of Lord Wynderbroke about a
+year before, and was not amiably disposed towards him now, and looked on
+the triumph of Alice a little sourly; although something like the
+beginning of a real love had since stolen into her heart--not, perhaps,
+destined to be much more happy.
+
+"Lord Wynderbroke--I don't know him. Is that gentleman he whom I saw
+talking to Miss Arden in the music-room, I wonder? He's not actually
+thin, and he is not at all stout; he's a little above the middle height,
+and he stoops just a little. He appears past fifty, and his hair looks
+like an old-fashioned brown wig, brushed up into a sort of cone over his
+forehead. He seems a little formal, and very polite and smiling, with a
+flower in his button-hole; a blue coat; and he has a pair of those
+little gold Paris glasses, and was looking out through the window with
+them."
+
+"Had he a high nose?"
+
+"Yes, rather a thin, high nose, and his face is very brown."
+
+"Well, if he was all that, and had a brown face and a high nose, and was
+pretty near fifty-three, and very near Alice Arden, he was positively
+Lord Wynderbroke."
+
+"And has this been going on for some time, or is it a sudden thing?"
+
+"Both, I believe. It has been going on a long time, I believe, in old
+Sir Reginald's head; but it has come about, after all, rather suddenly;
+and my guardian says--Mr. David Arden, you know--that he has written a
+proposal in a letter to Sir Reginald, and you see how happy the young
+lady looks. So I think we may assume that the course of true love, for
+once, runs smooth--don't you?"
+
+"And I suppose there is no objection anywhere?" said Longcluse, smiling.
+"It is a pity he is not a little younger, perhaps."
+
+"I don't hear any complaints; let us rather rejoice he is not ten or
+twenty years older. I am sure it would not prevent his happiness, but it
+would heighten the ridicule. Are you one of Lady May Penrose's party to
+the Derby to-morrow?" inquired the young lady.
+
+"No; I haven't been asked."
+
+"Lord Wynderbroke is going."
+
+"Oh! of course he is."
+
+"I don't think Mr. David Arden likes it; but, of course, it is no
+business of his if other people are pleased. I wonder you did not hear
+all this from Richard Arden, you and he are so intimate."
+
+So said the young lady, looking very innocent. But I think she suspected
+more than she said.
+
+"No, I did not hear it," he said carelessly; "or, if I did, I forgot it.
+But do you blame the young lady?"
+
+"Blame her! not at all. Besides, I am not so sure that she knows."
+
+"How can you think so?"
+
+"Because I think she likes quite another person."
+
+"Really! And who is he?"
+
+"Can't you guess?"
+
+"Upon my honour, I can't."
+
+There was something so earnest, and even vehement, in this sudden
+asseveration, that Miss Maubray looked for a moment in his face; and
+seeing her curious expression, he said more quietly, "I assure you I
+don't think I ever heard; I'm rather curious to know."
+
+"I mean Mr. Vivian Darnley."
+
+"Oh! Well, I've suspected that a long time. I told Richard Arden, one
+day--I forget how it came about--but he said no."
+
+"Well, I say yes," laughed the young lady, "and we shall see who's
+right."
+
+"Oh! Recollect I'm only giving you his opinion. I rather lean to yours,
+but he said there was positively nothing in it, and that Mr. Darnley is
+too poor to marry."
+
+"If Alice Arden resembles me," said the young lady, "she thinks there
+are just two things to marry for--either love or ambition."
+
+"You place love first, I'm glad to hear," said Mr. Longcluse, with a
+smile.
+
+"So I do, because it is most likely to prevail with a pig-headed girl;
+but what I mean is this: that social pre-eminence--I mean rank, and not
+trumpery rank; but such as, being accompanied with wealth and
+precedence, is also attended with power--is worth an immense sacrifice
+of all other objects; my reason tells me, worth the sacrifice of love.
+But that is a sacrifice which impatient, impetuous people can't always
+so easily make--which I daresay I could not make if I were tried; but I
+don't think I shall ever be fool enough to become so insane, for the
+state of a person in love is a state of simple idiotism. It is pitiable,
+I allow, but also contemptible; but, judging by what I see, it appears
+to me a more irresistible delusion than ambition. But I don't understand
+Alice well. I think, if I knew a little more of her brother--certain
+qualities so run in families--I should be able to make a better guess.
+What do you think of him?"
+
+"He's very agreeable, isn't he? and, for the rest, really, until men are
+tried as events only can try them, it is neither wise nor safe to
+pronounce."
+
+"Is he affectionate?"
+
+"His sister seems to worship him," he answered; "but young ladies are so
+angelic, that where they like they resent nothing, and respect
+selfishness itself as a manly virtue."
+
+"But you know him intimately; surely you must know something of him."
+
+Under different circumstances, this audacious young lady's
+cross-examination would have amused Mr. Longcluse; but in his present
+relations, and spirits, it was otherwise.
+
+"I should but mislead you if I were to answer more distinctly. I answer
+for no man, hardly for myself. Besides, I question your theory. I don't
+think, except by accident, that a brother's character throws any light
+upon a sister's; and I hope--I think, I mean--that Miss Arden has
+qualities illimitably superior to those of her brother. Are these your
+friends, Miss Maubray?" he continued.
+
+"So they are," she answered. "I'm so much obliged to you, Mr. Longcluse!
+I think they are leaving."
+
+Mr. Longcluse, having delivered her into the hands of her chaperon, took
+his leave, and walked into the broad alleys among the trees, and in
+solitude under their shade, sat himself down by a pond, on which two
+swans were sailing majestically. Looking down upon the water with a
+pallid frown, he struck the bank beneath him viciously with his heel,
+peeling off little bits of the sward, which dropped into the water.
+
+"It is all plain enough now. Richard Arden has been playing me false. It
+ought not to surprise me, perhaps. The girl, I still believe, has
+neither act nor part in the conspiracy. She has been duped by her
+brother. I have thrown myself upon her mercy; I will now appeal to her
+_justice_. As for him--what vermin mankind are! He must return to his
+allegiance; he will. After all, he may not like to lose me. He will act
+in the way that most interests his selfishness. Come, come! it is no
+impracticable problem. I'm not cruel? Not I! No, I'm not cruel; but I am
+utterly just. I would not hang a mouse up by the tail to die, as they do
+in France, head downwards, of hunger, for eating my cheese; but should
+the vermin nibble at my heart, in that case, what says justice? Alice,
+beautiful Alice, you shall have every chance before I tear you from my
+heart--oh, for ever! Ambition! That coarse girl, Miss Maubray, can't
+understand you. Ambition, in her sense, you have none; there is nothing
+venal in your nature. Vivian Darnley, is there anything in that either?
+I think nothing. I observed them closely, that night, at Mortlake. No,
+there was nothing. My conversation and music interested her, and when I
+was by, he was nothing.
+
+"They are going to the Derby to-morrow. I think Lady May has treated me
+rather oddly, considering that she had all but borrowed my drag. She
+might have put me off civilly; but I don't blame her. She is
+good-natured, and if she has any idea that I and the Ardens are not
+quite on pleasant terms, it quite excuses it. Her asking me here, and
+her little note to remind, were meant to show that she did not take up
+the quarrel against me. Never mind; I shall know all about it, time
+enough. They are going to the Derby to-morrow. Very well, I shall go
+also. It will all be right yet. When did I fail? When did I renounce an
+object? By Heaven, one way or other, I'll accomplish this!"
+
+Tall Mr. Longcluse rose, and looked round him, and in deep thought,
+marched with a resolute step towards the house.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXXII.
+
+UNDER THE LIME-TREES.
+
+
+At this garden-party, marvellous as it may appear, Lord Wynderbroke has
+an aunt. How old she is I know not, nor yet with what conscience her
+respectable relations can permit her to haunt such places, and run a
+risk of being suffocated in doorways, or knocked down the steps by an
+enamoured couple hurrying off to more romantic quarters, or of having
+her maundering old head knocked with a croquet mallet, as she totters
+drearily among the hoops.
+
+This old lady is worth conciliating, for she has plate and jewels, and
+three thousand a-year to leave; and Lord Wynderbroke is a prudent man.
+He can bear a great deal of money, and has no objection to jewels, and
+thinks that the plate of his bachelor and old-maid kindred should
+gravitate to the centre and head of the house. Lord Wynderbroke was
+indulgent, and did not object to her living a little longer, for this
+aunt conduced to his air of juvenility more than the flower in his
+button-hole. However, she was occasionally troublesome, and on this
+occasion made an unwise mixture of fruit and other things; and a servant
+glided into the music-room, and with a proper inclination of his person,
+in a very soft tone said,--
+
+"My lord, Lady Witherspoons is in her carriage at the door, my lord, and
+says her ladyship is indisposed, and begs, my lord, that your lordship
+will be so good as to hacompany her 'ome in her carriage, my lord."
+
+"Oh! tell her ladyship I am so _very_ sorry, and will be with her in a
+moment." And he turned with a very serious countenance to Alice. "How
+extremely unfortunate! When I saw those miserable cherries, I knew how
+it would be; and now I am torn away from this charming place; and I'm
+sure I hope she may be better soon, it _is_ so (disgusting, he thought,
+but he said) melancholy! With whom shall I leave you, Miss Arden?"
+
+"Thanks, I came with my brother, and here is my cousin, Mr. Darnley, who
+can tell me where he is."
+
+"With a croquet party, near the little bridge. I'll be your guide, if
+you'll allow me," said Vivian Darnley eagerly.
+
+"Pray, Lord Wynderbroke, don't let me delay you longer. I shall find my
+brother quite easily now. I so hope Lady Witherspoons may soon be
+better!"
+
+"Oh, yes, she always _is_ better soon; but in the meantime one is
+carried away, you see, and everything upset; and all because, poor
+woman, she won't exercise the smallest restraint. And she has, of
+course, a right to command me, being my aunt, you know, and--and--the
+whole thing is ineffably provoking."
+
+And thus he took his reluctant departure, not without a brief but grave
+scrutiny of Mr. Vivian Darnley. When he was gone, Vivian Darnley
+proffered his arm, and that little hand was placed on it, the touch of
+which made his heart beat faster. Though people were beginning to go,
+there was still a crush about the steps. This little resistance and
+mimic difficulty were pleasant to him for her sake. Down the steps they
+went together, and now he had her all to himself; and silently for a
+while he led her over the closely-shorn grass, and into the green walk
+between the lime-trees, that leads down to the little bridge.
+
+"Alice," at last he said--"Miss Arden, what have I done that you are so
+changed?"
+
+"Changed! I don't think I am changed. What is there to change me?" she
+said carelessly, but in a low tone, as she looked along towards the
+flowers.
+
+"It won't do, Alice, repeating my question, for that is all you have
+done. I like you too well to be put off with mere words. You are
+changed, and without a cause--no, I could not say that--not without a
+cause. Circumstances are altered; you are in the great world now, and
+admired; you have wealth and titles at your feet--Mr. Longcluse with his
+millions, Lord Wynderbroke with his coronet."
+
+"And who told you that these gentlemen were at my feet?" she exclaimed,
+with a flash from her fine eyes, that reminded him of moments of pretty
+childish anger, long ago. "If I am changed--and perhaps I am--such
+speeches as that would quite account for it. You accuse me of
+caprice--has any one ever accused you of impertinence?"
+
+"It is quite true, I deserve your rebuke. I have been speaking as freely
+as if we were back again at Arden Court, or Ryndelmere, and ten years of
+our lives were as a mist that rolls away."
+
+"That's a quotation from a song of Tennyson's."
+
+"I don't know what it is from. Being melancholy myself, I say the words
+because they are melancholy."
+
+"Surely you can find some friend to console you in your affliction."
+
+"It is not easy to find a friend at any time, much less when things go
+wrong with us."
+
+"It is very hard if there is really no one to comfort you. Certainly _I_
+sha'n't try anything so hopeless as comforting a person who is resolved
+to be miserable. 'There's such a charm in melancholy, I would not if I
+could, be gay.' There's a quotation for you, as you like
+verses--particularly what I call moping verses."
+
+"Come, Alice! this is not like you; you are not so unkind as your words
+would seem; you are not cruel, Alice--you are cruel to no one else, only
+to me, your old friend."
+
+"I have said nothing cruel," said Miss Alice, looking on the grass
+before her; "cruelty is too sublime a phrase. I don't think I have ever
+experienced cruelty in my life; and I don't think it likely that you
+have; I certainly have never been cruel to any one. I'm a very
+good-natured person, as my birds and squirrel would testify if they
+could."
+
+She laughed.
+
+"I suppose people call that cruel which makes them suffer very much; it
+may be but a light look, or a cold word, but still it may be more than
+years of suffering to another. But I don't think, Alice, you ought to be
+so with me. I think you might remember old times a little more kindly."
+
+"I remember them very kindly--as kindly as you do. We were always very
+good friends, and always, I daresay, shall be. _I_ sha'n't quarrel. But
+I don't like heroics, I think they are so unmeaning. There may be people
+who like them very well and---- There is Richard, I think, and he has
+thrown away his mallet. If his game is over, he will come now, and Lady
+May doesn't want the people to stay late; she is going into town, and I
+stay with her to-night. We are going to the Derby to-morrow."
+
+"I am going also--it was so kind of her!--she asked me to be of her
+party," said Vivian Darnley.
+
+"Richard is coming also; I have never been to the Derby, and I daresay
+we shall be a very pleasant party; I know I like it of all things. Here
+comes Richard--he sees me. Was my uncle David here?"
+
+"No."
+
+"I hardly thought he was, but I saw Grace Maubray, and I fancied he
+might have come with her," she said carelessly.
+
+"Yes, she was here; she came with Lady Tramway. They went away about
+half-an-hour ago."
+
+So Richard joined her, and they walked to the house together, Vivian
+Darnley accompanying them.
+
+"I think I saw you a little spooney to-day, Vivian, didn't I?" said
+Richard Arden, laughing. He remembered what Longcluse once said to him,
+about Vivian's _tendre_ for his sister, and did not choose that Alice
+should suspect it. "Grace Maubray is a very pretty girl."
+
+"She may be that, though it doesn't strike me," began Darnley.
+
+"Oh! come, I'm too old for that sort of disclaimer; and I don't see why
+you should be so modest about it. She is clever and pretty."
+
+"Yes, she is very pretty," said Alice.
+
+"I suppose she is, but you're quite mistaken if you really fancy I
+admire Miss Maubray. I _don't_, I give you my _honour_, I don't," said
+Vivian vehemently.
+
+Richard Arden laughed again, but prudently urged the point no more,
+intending to tell the story that evening as he and Alice drove together
+into town, in the way that best answered his purpose.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXXIII.
+
+THE DERBY.
+
+
+The morning of the Derby day dawned auspiciously. The weather-cocks, the
+sky, and every other prognostic portended a fine cloudless day, and many
+an eye peeped early from bed-room window to read these signs, rejoicing.
+
+"Ascot would have been more in _our_ way," said Lady May, glancing at
+Alice, when the time arrived for taking their places in the carriage.
+"But the time answered, and we shall see a great many people we know
+there. So you must not think I have led you into a very fast
+expedition."
+
+Richard Arden took the reins. The footmen were behind, in charge of
+hampers from Fortnum and Mason's, and inside, opposite to Alice, sat
+Lord Wynderbroke; and Lady May's _vis-à-vis_ was Vivian Darnley. Soon
+they had got into the double stream of carriages of all sorts. There are
+closed carriages with pairs or fours, gigs, hansom cabs fitted with
+gauze curtains, dog-carts, open carriages with hampers lashed to the
+foot-boards, dandy drags, bright and polished, with crests; vans, cabs,
+and indescribable contrivances. There are horses worth a hundred and
+fifty guineas a-piece, and there are others that look as if the knacker
+should have them. There are all sorts of raws, and sand-cracks, and
+broken knees. There are kickers and roarers, and bolters and jibbers,
+such a crush and medley in that densely packed double line, that jogs
+and crushes along you can hardly tell how.
+
+Sometimes one line passes the other, and then sustains a momentary
+check, while the other darts forward; and now and then a panel is
+smashed, with the usual altercation, and dust unspeakable eddying and
+floating everywhere in the sun; all sorts of chaff exchanged, mail-coach
+horns blowing, and general impudence and hilarity; gentlemen with veils
+on, and ladies with light hoods over their bonnets, and all sorts of
+gauzy defences against the dust. The utter novelty of all these sights
+and sounds highly amuses Alice, to whom they are absolutely strange.
+
+"I am so amused," she said, "at the gravity you all seem to take these
+wonderful doings with. I could not have fancied anything like it. Isn't
+that Borrowdale?"
+
+"So it is," said Lady May. "I thought he was in France. He doesn't see
+us, I think."
+
+He did see them, but it was just as he was cracking a personal joke with
+a busman, in which the latter had decidedly the best of it, and he did
+not care to recognise his lady acquaintances at disadvantage.
+
+"What a fright that man is!" said Lord Wynderbroke.
+
+"But his team is the prettiest in England, except Longcluse's," said
+Darnley; "and, by Jove, there's Longcluse's drag!"
+
+"Those are very nice horses," said Lord Wynderbroke looking at
+Longcluse's team, as if he had not heard Darnley's observation. "They
+are worth looking at, Miss Arden."
+
+Longcluse was seated on the box, with a veil on, through which his white
+smile was indistinctly visible.
+
+"And what a fright _he_ is, also! He looks like a picture of Death I
+once saw, with a cloth half over his face; or the Veiled Prophet. By
+Jove, a curious thing that the two most hideous men in England should
+have between them the two prettiest teams on earth!"
+
+Lord Wynderbroke looks at Darnley with raised brows, vaguely. He has
+been talking more than his lordship perhaps thinks he has any business
+to talk, especially to Alice.
+
+"You will be more diverted still when we have got upon the course,"
+interposes Lord Wynderbroke. "The variety of strange people
+there--gipsies, you know, and all that--mountebanks, and
+thimble-riggers, and beggars, and musicians--you'll wonder how such
+hordes could be collected in all England, or where they come from."
+
+"And although they make something of a day like this, how on earth they
+contrive to exist all the other days of the year, when people are sober,
+and minding their own business," added Darnley.
+
+"To me the pleasantest thing about the drive is our finding ourselves in
+the open country. Look out of the window there--trees and
+farm-steads--it is so rural, and such an odd change!" said Lady May.
+
+"And the young corn, I'm glad to see, is looking very well," said Lord
+Wynderbroke, who claimed to be something of an agriculturist.
+
+"And the oddest thing about it is our being surrounded, in the midst of
+all this rural simplicity, with the population of London," threw in
+Vivian Darnley.
+
+"Remember, Miss Arden, our wager," said Lord Wynderbroke; "you have
+backed May Queen."
+
+"May! she should be a cousin of mine," said good Lady May, firing off
+her little pun, which was received very kindly by her audience.
+
+"Ha, ha! I did not think of that; she should certainly be the most
+popular name on the card," said Lord Wynderbroke. "I hope I have not
+made a great mistake, Miss Arden, in betting against so--so auspicious a
+name."
+
+"I sha'n't let you off, though. I'm told I'm very likely to win--isn't
+it so?" she asked Vivian.
+
+"Yes, the odds are in favour of May Queen now; you might make a capital
+hedge."
+
+"You don't know what a hedge is, I daresay, Miss Arden; ladies don't
+always quite understand our turf language," said Lord Wynderbroke, with
+a consideration which he hoped that very forward young man, on whom he
+fancied Miss Arden looked good-naturedly, felt as he ought. "It is
+called a hedge, by betting men, when----" and he expounded the meaning
+of the term.
+
+The road had now become more free, as they approached the course, and
+Dick Arden took advantage of the circumstance to pass the omnibuses, and
+other lumbering vehicles, which he soon left far behind. The grand stand
+now rose in view--and now they were on the course. The first race had
+not yet come off, and young Arden found a good place among the triple
+line of carriages. Off go the horses! Miss Arden is assisted to a
+cushion on the roof; Lord Wynderbroke and Vivian take places beside her.
+The sun is growing rather hot, and the parasol is up. Good-natured Lady
+May is a little too stout for climbing, but won't hear of anyone's
+staying to keep her company. Perhaps when Richard Arden, who is taking a
+walk by the ropes, and wants to see the horses which are showing,
+returns, she may have a little talk with him at the window. In the
+meantime, all the curious groups of figures, and a hundred more, which
+Lord Wynderbroke promised--the monotonous challenges of the fellows with
+games of all sorts, the whine of the beggar for a little penny, the
+guitarring, singing, barrel-organing, and the gipsy inviting Miss Arden
+to try her lucky sixpence--all make a curious and merry Babel about her.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXXIV.
+
+A SHARP COLLOQUY.
+
+
+On foot, near the weighing stand, is a tall, powerful, and clumsy
+fellow, got up gaudily--a fellow with a lowering red face, in loud
+good-humour, very ill-looking. He is now grinning and chuckling with his
+hands in his pockets, and talking with a little Hebrew, young,
+sable-haired, with the sallow tint, great black eyes, and fleshy nose
+that characterise his race. A singularly sullen mouth aids the effect of
+his vivid eyes, in making this young Jew's face ominous.
+
+"Young Dick Harden's 'ere," said Mr. Levi.
+
+"Eh? is he?" said the big man with the red face and pimples, the green
+cut-away coat, gilt buttons, purple neck-tie, yellow waistcoat, white
+cord tights, and top boots.
+
+"Walking down there," said Levi, pointing with his thumb over his
+shoulder. "I shaw him shpeak to a fellow in chocolate and gold livery."
+
+"And an eagle on the button, I know. That's Lady May Penrose's livery,"
+said his companion. "He came down with her, I lay you fifty. And he has
+a nice sister as ever you set eyes on--pretty gal, Mr. Levi--a reg'lar
+little angel," and he giggled after his wont. "If there's a dragful of
+hangels anyvere, she's one of them. I saw her yesterday in one of Lady
+May Penrose's carriages in St. James' Street. Mr. Longcluse is engaged
+to get married to her; you may see them linked arm-in-arm, any day you
+please, walkin' hup and down Hoxford Street. And her brother, Richard
+Harden, is to marry Lady May Penrose. That will be a warm family yet,
+them Hardens, arter all."
+
+"A family with a title, Mr. Ballard, be it never so humble, Sir, like
+'ome shweet 'ome, hash nine livesh in it; they'll be down to the last
+pig, and not the thickness of an old tizzy between them and the
+glue-pot; and while you'd write your name across the back of a cheque,
+all's right again. The title doesh it. You never shaw a title in the
+workus yet, Mr. Ballard, and you'll wait awhile before you 'av a
+hoppertunity of shayin', 'My lord Dooke, I hope your grashe's
+water-gruel is salted to your noble tasht thish morning,' or, 'My noble
+marquishe, I humbly hope you are pleashed with the fit of them
+pepper-and-salts;' and, 'My lord earl, I'm glad to see by the register
+you took a right honourable twisht at the crank thish morning.' No,
+Mishter Ballard, you nor me won't shee that, Shir."
+
+While these gentlemen enjoyed their agreeable banter, and settled the
+fortunes of Richard Arden and Mr. Longcluse, the latter person was
+walking down the course in the direction in which Mr. Levi had seen
+Arden go, in the hope of discovering Lady May's carriage. Longcluse was
+in an odd state of excitement. He had entered into the spirit of the
+carnival. Voices all around were shouting, "Twenty to five on
+Dotheboys;" or, "A hundred to five against Parachute."
+
+"In what?" called Mr. Longcluse to the latter challenge.
+
+"In assassins!" cried a voice from the crowd.
+
+Mr. Longcluse hustled his way into the thick of it.
+
+"Who said that?" he thundered.
+
+No one could say. No one else had heard it. Who cared? He recovered his
+coolness quickly, and made no further fuss about it. People were too
+busy with other things to bother themselves about his questions, or his
+temper. He hurried forward after young Arden, whom he saw at the turn of
+the course a little way on.
+
+"The first race no one cares much about; compared with the great event
+of the day, it is as the farce before the pantomime, or the oyster
+before the feast."
+
+The bells had not yet rung out their warning, and Alice said to
+Vivian,--
+
+"How beautifully that girl with the tambourine danced and sang! I do so
+hope she'll come again; and she is, I think, so perfectly lovely. She is
+so like the picture of La Esmeralda; didn't you think so?"
+
+"Do you really wish to see her again?" said Vivian. "Then if she's to be
+found on earth you shall see her."
+
+He was smiling, but he spoke in the low tone that love is said to employ
+and understand, and his eyes looked softly on her. He was pleased that
+she enjoyed everything so. In a moment he had jumped to the ground, and
+with one smile back at the eager girl he disappeared.
+
+And now the bells were ringing, and the police clearing the course. And
+now the cry, "They're off, they're off!" came rolling down the crowd
+like a hedge-fire. Lord Wynderbroke offered Alice his race-glass, but
+ladies are not good at optical aids, and she prefers her eyes; and the
+Earl constitutes himself her sentinel, and will report all he sees, and
+stands on the roof beside her place, with the glasses to his eyes. And
+now the excitement grows. Beggar-boys, butcher-boys, stable-helps, jump
+up on carriage-wheels unnoticed, and cling to the roof with filthy
+fingers. And now they are in sight, and a wild clamour arises. "Red's
+first!" "No, Blue!" "White leads!" "Pink's first!"
+
+And here they are! White, crimson, pink, black, yellow--the silk jackets
+quivering like pennons in a storm--the jockeys tossing their arms madly
+about, the horses seeming actually to fly; swaying, reeling, whirring,
+the whole thing passes in a beautiful drift of a moment, and is gone!
+
+Lord Wynderbroke is standing on tip-toe, trying to catch a glimpse of
+the caps as they show at the opening nearer the winning-post. Vivian
+Darnley is away in search of La Esmeralda. Miss Arden has seen the first
+race of the day, the first she has ever seen, and is amazed and
+delighted. The intruders who had been clinging to the carriage now jump
+down, and join the crowd that crush on towards the winning-post, or
+break in on the course. But there rises at the point next her a figure
+she little expected to see so near that day. Mr. Longcluse has swung
+himself up, and stands upon the wheel. He is bare-headed, his hat is in
+the hand he clings by. In the other hand he holds up a small glove--a
+lady's glove. His face is very pale. He is not smiling; he looks with an
+expression of pain, on the contrary, and very great respect.
+
+"Miss Arden, will you forgive my venturing to restore this glove, which
+I happened to see you drop as the horses passed?"
+
+She looked at him with something of surprise and fear, and drew back a
+little instead of taking the proffered glove.
+
+"I find I have been too presumptuous," he said gently. "I place it
+there. I see, Miss Arden, I have been maligned. Some one has wronged me
+cruelly. I plead only for a fair chance--for God's sake, give me a
+chance. I don't say hear me now, only say you won't condemn me utterly
+unheard."
+
+He spoke vehemently, but so low that, amid the hubbub of other voices,
+no one but Miss Arden, on whom his eyes were fixed, could hear him.
+
+"I take my leave, Miss Arden, and may God bless you. But I rest in the
+hope that your noble nature will refuse to treat any creature as my
+enemies would have you treat me."
+
+His looks were so sad and even reverential, and his voice, though low,
+so full of agony, that no one could suppose the speaker had the least
+idea of forcing his presence upon the lady a moment longer than sufficed
+to ascertain that it was not welcome. He was about to step to the
+ground, when he saw Richard Arden striding rapidly up with a very angry
+countenance. Then and there seemed likely to occur what the newspapers
+term an ungentlemanlike fracas. Richard Arden caught him, and pulled him
+roughly to the ground. Mr. Longcluse staggered back a step or two, and
+recovered himself. His pale face glared wickedly, for a moment or two,
+on the flushed and haughty young man; his arm was a little raised, and
+his fist clenched. I daresay it was just the turn of a die, at that
+moment, whether he struck him or not.
+
+These two bosom friends, and sworn brothers, of a week or two ago, were
+confronted now with strange looks, and in threatening attitude. How
+frail a thing is the worldly man's friendship, hanging on flatteries and
+community of interest! A word or two of truth, and a conflict or even a
+divergence of interest, and where is the liking, the friendship, the
+intimacy?
+
+A sudden change marked the face of Mr. Longcluse. The vivid fires that
+gleamed for a moment from his eyes sunk in their dark sockets, the
+intense look changed to one of sullen gloom. He beckoned, and said
+coldly, "Please follow me;" and then turned and walked, at a leisurely
+pace, a little way inward from the course.
+
+Richard Arden, perhaps, felt that had he hesitated it would have
+reflected on his courage. He therefore disregarded the pride that would
+have scorned even a seeming compliance with that rather haughty summons,
+and he followed him with something of the odd dreamy feeling which men
+experience when they are stepping, consciously, into a risk of life. He
+thought that Mr. Longcluse was inviting the interview for the purpose of
+arranging the preliminaries of who were to act as their "friends," and
+where each gentleman was to be heard of that evening. He followed, with
+oddly conflicting feelings, to a place in the rear of some tents. Here
+was a sort of booth. Two doors admitted to it--one to the longer room,
+where was whirling that roulette round which men who, like Richard
+Arden, could not deny themselves, even on the meanest scale, the
+excitement of chance gain and loss, were betting and bawling. Into the
+smaller room of plank, which was now empty, they stepped.
+
+"Now, Sir, you'll be so good as to observe that you have taken upon you
+a rather serious responsibility in laying your hand on me," said
+Longcluse, in a very low tone, coldly and gently. "In France, such a
+profanation would be followed by an exchange of shots, and here, under
+other circumstances, I should exact the same chance of retaliation. I
+mean to deal differently--quite differently. I have fought too many
+duels, as you know, to be the least apprehensive of being misunderstood
+or my courage questioned. For your sister's sake, not yours, I take a
+peculiar course with you. I offer you an alternative; you may have
+reconciliation--here is my hand" (he extended it)--"or you may abide the
+other consequence, at which I sha'n't hint, in pretty near futurity. You
+don't accept my hand?"
+
+"No, Sir," said Arden haughtily--more than haughtily, insolently. "I can
+have no desire to renew an acquaintance with you. I sha'n't do that.
+I'll fight you, if you like it. I'll go to Boulogne, or wherever you
+like, and we can have our shot, Sir, whenever you please."
+
+"No, if you please--not so fast. You decline my friendship--that offer
+is over," said Longcluse, lowering his hand resolutely. "I am not going
+to shoot you--I have not the least notion of that. I shall take, let me
+see, a different course with you, and I shall obtain on reflection your
+entire concurrence with the hopes I have no idea of relinquishing. You
+will probably understand me pretty clearly by-and-by."
+
+Richard Arden was angry; he was puzzled; he wished to speak, but could
+not light quickly on a suitable answer. Longcluse stood for some
+seconds, smiling his pale sinister smile upon him, and then turned on
+his heel, and walked quietly out upon the grass, and disappeared in the
+crowd.
+
+Richard Arden was irresolute. He threw open the door, and entered the
+roulette-room--looked round on all the strange faces, that did not mind
+him, or seem to see that he was there--then, with a sudden change of
+mind, he retraced his steps more quickly, and followed Longcluse through
+the other door. But there he could not trace him. He had quite vanished.
+Perhaps, next morning, he was glad that he had missed him, and had been
+compelled to "sleep upon it."
+
+Now and then, with a sense of disagreeable uncertainty, recurred to his
+mind the mysterious intimation, or rather menace, with which he had
+taken his departure. It was not, however, his business to look up
+Longcluse. He had himself seemed to intimate that the balance of insult
+was the other way. If "satisfaction," in the slang of the duellist, was
+to be looked for, the initiative devolved undoubtedly upon Longcluse.
+
+Alice was so placed on the carriage, that she did not see what passed
+immediately beside it, between Longcluse and her brother. Still, the
+appearance of this man, and his having accosted her, had agitated her a
+good deal, and for some hours the unpleasant effect of the little scene
+spoiled her enjoyment of this day of wonders.
+
+Very gaily, notwithstanding, the party returned--except, perhaps, one
+person who had reason to remember that day.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXXV.
+
+DINNER AT MORTLAKE.
+
+
+Lady May's party from the Derby dined together late, that evening, at
+Mortlake. Lord Wynderbroke, of course, was included. He was very happy,
+and extremely agreeable. When Alice, and Lady May, who was to stay that
+night at Mortlake, and Miss Maubray, who had come with Uncle David, took
+their departure for the drawing-room, the four gentlemen who remained
+over their claret drew more together, and chatted at their ease.
+
+Lord Wynderbroke was in high spirits. He admired Alice more than ever.
+He admired everything. A faint rumour had got about that something was
+not very unlikely to be. It did not displease him. He had been looking
+at diamonds the day before; he was not vexed when that amusing wag,
+Pokely, who had surprised him in the act, asked him that day, on the
+Downs, some sly questions on the subject, with an arch glance at
+beautiful Miss Arden. Lord Wynderbroke pooh-pooh'd this impertinence
+very radiantly. And now this happy peer, pleased with himself, pleased
+with everybody, with the flush of a complacent elation on his thin
+cheeks, was simpering and chatting most agreeably, and commending
+everything to which his attention was drawn.
+
+In very marked contrast with this happy man was Richard Arden, who
+talked but little, was absent, utterly out of spirits, and smiled with a
+palpable effort when he did smile. His conversation with Lady May showed
+the same uncomfortable peculiarities. It was intermittent and
+bewildered. It saddened the good lady. Was he ill? or in some
+difficulty?
+
+Now that she had withdrawn, Richard Arden seemed less attentive to Lord
+Wynderbroke than to his uncle. In so far as a wight in his melancholy
+mood could do so, he seemed to have laid himself out to please his uncle
+in those small ways where, in such situations, an anxiety to please can
+show itself. Once his father's voice had roused him with the intimation,
+"Richard, Lord Wynderbroke is speaking to you;" and he saw a very urbane
+smile on his thin lips, and encountered a very formidable glare from his
+dark eyes. The only subject on which Richard Arden at all brightened up
+was the defeat of the favourite. Lord Wynderbroke remarked,--
+
+"It seems to have caused a good deal of observation. I saw Hounsley and
+Crackham, and they shake their heads at it a good deal, and----"
+
+He paused, thinking that Richard Arden was going to interpose something,
+but nothing followed, and he continued,--
+
+"And Lord Shillingsworth, he's very well up in all these things, and he
+seems to think it is a very suspicious affair; and old Sir Thomas
+Fetlock, who should have known better, has been hit very hard, and says
+he'll have it before the Jockey Club."
+
+"I don't mind Sir Thomas, he blusters and makes a noise about
+everything," said Richard Arden; "but it was quite palpable, when the
+horse showed, he wasn't fit to run. I don't suppose Sir Thomas will do
+it, but it certainly will be done. I know a dozen men who will sell
+their horses, if it isn't done. I don't see how any man can take payment
+of the odds on Dotheboys--I don't, I assure you--till the affair is
+cleared up: _gentlemen_, of course, I mean; the other people would like
+the money all the better if it came to them by a swindle. But it
+certainly can't rest where it is."
+
+No one disputing this, and none of the other gentlemen being authorities
+of any value upon turf matters, the subject dropped, and others came on,
+and Richard Arden was silent again. Lord Wynderbroke, who was to pass
+two or three days at Mortlake, and who had made up his mind that he was
+to leave that interesting place a _promesso sposo_, was restless, and
+longed to escape to the drawing-room. So the sitting over the wine was
+not very long.
+
+Richard Arden made an effort, in the drawing-room, to retrieve his
+character with Lady May and Miss Maubray, who had been rather puzzled by
+his hang-dog looks and flagging conversation.
+
+"There are times, Lady May," said he, placing himself on the sofa beside
+her, "when one loses all faith in the future--when everything goes
+wrong, and happiness becomes incredible. Then one's wisest course seems
+to be, to take off one's hat to the good people in this planet, and go
+off to another."
+
+"Only that I know you so well," said Lady May, "I should tell
+Reginald--I mean your father--what you say; and I think your uncle,
+there, is a magistrate for the county of Middlesex, and could commit
+you, couldn't he? for any such foolish speech. Did you observe
+to-day--you saw him, of course--how miserably ill poor Pindledykes is
+looking? I don't think, really, he'll be alive in six months."
+
+"Don't throw away your compassion, dear Lady May. Pindledykes has always
+looked dying as long as I can remember, and on his last legs; but those
+last legs carry some fellows a long way, and I'm very sure he'll outlive
+me."
+
+"And what pleasure can a person so very ill as he looks take in going to
+places like that?"
+
+"The pleasure of winning other people's money," laughed Arden sourly.
+"Pindledykes knows very well what he's about. He turns his time to very
+good account, and wastes very little of it, I assure you, in pitying
+other people's misfortunes."
+
+"I'm glad to see that you and Richard are on pleasanter terms," said
+David Arden to his brother, as he sipped his tea beside him.
+
+"Egad! we are _not_, though. I hate him worse than ever. Would you
+oblige me by putting a bit of wood on the fire? I told you how he has
+treated me. I wonder, David, how the devil you could suppose we were on
+pleasanter terms!"
+
+Sir Reginald was seated with his crutch-handled stick beside him, and an
+easy fur slipper on his gouty foot, which rested on a stool, and was a
+great deal better. He leaned back in a cushioned arm-chair, and his
+fierce prominent eyes glanced across the room, in the direction of his
+son, with a flash like a scimitar's.
+
+"There's no good, you know, David, in exposing one's ulcers to
+strangers--there's no use in plaguing one's guests with family
+quarrels."
+
+"Upon my word, you disguised this one admirably, for I mistook you for
+two people on tolerably friendly terms."
+
+"I don't want to plague Wynderbroke about the puppy; there is no need to
+mention that he has made so much unhappiness. _You_ won't, neither will
+I."
+
+David nodded.
+
+"Something has gone wrong with him," said David Arden, "and I thought
+you might possibly know."
+
+"Not I."
+
+"I think he has lost money on the races to-day," said David.
+
+"I hope to Heaven he has! I'm glad of it. It will do me good; let him
+settle it out of his blackguard _post-obit_," snarled Sir Reginald, and
+ground his teeth.
+
+"If he has been gambling, he has disappointed me. He can, however,
+disappoint me but once. I had better thoughts of him."
+
+So said David Arden, with displeasure in his frank and manly face.
+
+"Playing? Of course he plays, and of course he's been making a
+blundering book for the Derby. He likes the hazard-table and the turf,
+he likes play, and he likes making books; and what he likes he does. He
+always did. I'm rather pleased you have been trying to manage him.
+You'll find him a charming person, and you'll understand what I have had
+to combat with. He'll never do any good; he is so utterly graceless."
+
+"I see my father looking at me, and I know what he means," said Richard
+Arden, with a smile, to Lady May; "I'm to go and talk to Miss Maubray.
+He wishes to please Uncle David, and Miss Maubray must be talked to; and
+I see that Uncle David envies me my little momentary happiness, and
+meditates taking that empty chair beside you. You'll see whether I am
+right. By Jove! here he comes; I sha'n't be turned away so----"
+
+"Oh, but, really, Miss Maubray has been quite alone," urged poor Lady
+May, very much pleased; "and you _must_, to please _me_; I'm sure you
+will."
+
+Instantly he arose.
+
+"I don't know whether that speech is most kind or _un_-kind; you banish
+me, but in language so flattering to my loyalty, that I don't know
+whether to be pleased or pained. Of course I obey." He said these
+parting words in a very low tone, and had hardly ended them, when David
+Arden took the vacant chair beside the good lady, and began to talk with
+her.
+
+Once or twice his eyes wandered to Richard Arden, who was by this time
+talking with returning animation to Grace Maubray, and the look was not
+cheerful. The young lady, however, was soon interested, and her
+good-humour was clever and exhilarating. I think that she a little
+admired this handsome and rather clever young man, and who can tell what
+such a fancy may grow to?
+
+That night, as Richard Arden bid him good-bye, his uncle said, coldly
+enough,--
+
+"By-the-bye, Richard, would you mind looking in upon me to-morrow, at
+five in the afternoon? I shall have a word to say to you."
+
+So the appointment was made, and Richard entered his cab, and drove into
+town dismally.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXXVI.
+
+MR. LONGCLUSE SEES A LADY'S NOTE.
+
+
+Next day Mr. Longcluse paid an early visit at Uncle David's house, and
+saw Miss Maubray in the drawing-room. The transition from that young
+lady's former, to her new life, was not less dazzling than that of the
+heroine of an Arabian tale, who is transported by friendly genii, while
+she sleeps, from a prison to the palace of a sultan. Uncle David did not
+care for finery; no man's tastes could be simpler and more camp-like.
+But these drawing-rooms were so splendid, so elegant and refined, and
+yet so gorgeous in effect, that you would have fancied that he had
+thought of nothing else all his life but china, marqueterie, buhl, Louis
+Quatorze clocks, mirrors, pale-green and gold cabriole chairs, bronzes,
+pictures, and all the textile splendours, the names of which I know not,
+that make floors and windows magnificent.
+
+The feminine nature, facile and self-adapting, had at once accommodated
+itself to the dominion over all this, and all that attended it. And Miss
+Maubray being a lady, a girl who had, in her troubled life, been much
+among high-bred people--her father a gentle, fashionable, broken-down
+man, and her mother a very elegant and charming woman--there was no
+contrast, in look, air, or conversation, to mark that all this was new
+to her: on the contrary, she became it extremely.
+
+The young lady was sitting at the piano when Longcluse came in, and to
+the expiring vibration of the chord at which she was interrupted she
+rose, with that light, floating ascent which is so pretty, and gave him
+her hand, and welcomed him with a very bright smile. She thought he was
+a likely person to be able to throw some light upon two rumours which
+interested her.
+
+"How do you contrive to keep your rooms so deliciously cool? The blinds
+are down and the windows open, but that alone won't do, for I have just
+left a drawing-room that is very nearly insupportable; yours must be the
+work of some of those pretty sylphs that poets place in attendance upon
+their heroines. How fearfully hot yesterday was! You did not go to the
+Derby with Lady May's party, I believe."
+
+He watched her clever face, to discover whether she had heard of the
+scene between him and Richard Arden--"I don't think she has."
+
+"No," she said, "my guardian, Mr. Arden, took me there instead. On
+second thoughts, I feared I should very likely be in the way. One is
+always _de trop_ where there is so much love-making; and I am a very bad
+gooseberry."
+
+"A very dangerous one, I should fancy. And who are all these lovers?"
+
+"Oh, really, they are so many, it is not easy to reckon them up. Alice
+Arden, for instance, had _two_ lovers--Lord Wynderbroke and Vivian
+Darnley."
+
+"What, two lovers charged upon one lady? Is not that false heraldry? And
+does she really care for that young fellow, Darnley?"
+
+"I'm told she really is deeply attached to him. But that does not
+prevent her accepting Lord Wynderbroke. He has spoken, and been
+accepted. Old Sir Reginald told my guardian his brother, last night, and
+_he_ told me in the carriage, as we drove home. I wonder how soon it
+will be. I should rather like to be one of her bridesmaids. Perhaps she
+will ask me."
+
+Mr. Longcluse felt giddy and stunned; but he said, quite gaily--
+
+"If she wishes to be suitably attended, she certainly will. But young
+ladies generally prefer a foil to a rival, even when so very beautiful
+as she is."
+
+"And there was Vivian Darnley at one side, I'm told, whispering all
+kinds of sweet things, and poor old Wynderbroke at the other, with his
+glasses to his eyes, reporting all he saw. Only think! What a goose the
+old creature must have looked!" And the young lady laughed merrily. "But
+can you tell me about the other affair?" she asked.
+
+"What is it?"
+
+"Oh! you know, of course--Lady May and Richard Arden; is it true that it
+was all settled the day before yesterday, at that kettle-drum?"
+
+"There again my information is quite behind yours. I did not hear a word
+of it."
+
+"But you must have seen how very much in love they both are. Poor young
+man! I really think it would have broken his heart if she had been
+cruel, particularly if it is true that he lost so much as they say at
+the Derby yesterday. I suppose he did. Do you know?"
+
+"I'm sorry to say," said Mr. Longcluse, "I'm afraid it's only too true.
+I don't know exactly how much it is, but I believe it is more than he
+can, at present, very well bear. A mad thing for him to do. I'm really
+sorry, although he has chosen to quarrel with me most unreasonably."
+
+"Oh? I wasn't aware. I fancied you would have heard all from him."
+
+"No, not a word--no."
+
+"Lady May was talking to me at Raleigh Court, the day we were there--she
+can talk of no one else, poor old thing!--and she said something had
+happened to make him and his sister very angry. She would not say what.
+She only said, 'You know how very proud they are, and I really think,'
+she said, 'they ought to have been very much pleased, for everything, I
+think, was most advantageous.' And from this I conclude there must have
+been a proposal for Alice; I shall ask her when I see her."
+
+"Yes, I daresay they are proud. Richard Arden told me so. He said that
+his family were always considered proud. He was laughing, of course, but
+he meant it."
+
+"He's proud of being proud, I daresay. I thought you would be likely to
+know whether all they say is true. It would be a great pity he should be
+ruined; but, you know, if all the rest is true, there are resources."
+
+Longcluse laughed.
+
+"He has always been very particular and a little tender in that quarter;
+very sweet upon Lady May, I thought," said he.
+
+"Oh, very much gone, poor thing!" said Grace Maubray. "I think my
+guardian will have heard all about it. He was very angry, once or twice,
+with Richard Arden about his losing so much money at play. I believe he
+has lost a great deal at different times."
+
+"A great many people do lose money so. For the sake of excitement, they
+incur losses, and risk even their utter ruin."
+
+"How foolish!" exclaimed Miss Maubray. "Have you heard anything more
+about that affair of Lady Mary Playfair and Captain Mayfair? He is now,
+by the death of his cousin, quite sure of the title, they say."
+
+"Yes it must come to him. His uncle has got something wrong with his
+leg, a fracture that never united quite; it is an old hurt, and I'm told
+he is quite breaking up now. He is at Buxton, and going on to Vichy, if
+he lives, poor man."
+
+"Oh, then, there can be no difficulty now."
+
+"No, I heard yesterday it is all settled."
+
+"And what does Caroline Chambray say to that?"
+
+And so on they chatted, till his call was ended, and Mr. Longcluse
+walked down the steps with his head pretty busy.
+
+At the corner of a street he took a cab; and as he drove to Lady May's,
+those fragments of his short talk with Grace Maubray that most
+interested him were tumbling over and over in his mind. "So they are
+angry, very angry; and very proud and haughty people. I had no business
+dreaming of an alliance with Mr. Richard Arden. Angry, he may be--he may
+affect to be--but I don't believe she is. And proud, is he? Proud of her
+he might be, but what else has he to boast of? Proud and angry--ha, ha!
+Angry and proud. We shall see. Such people sometimes grow suddenly mild
+and meek. And she has accepted Lord Wynderbroke. I doubt it. Miss
+Maubray, you are such a good-natured girl that, if you suspected the
+torture your story inflicted, you would invent it, rather than spare a
+fellow-mortal that pang."
+
+In this we know he was a little unjust.
+
+"Well, Miss Arden, I understand your brother; I shall soon understand
+_you_. At present I hesitate. Alas! must I place you, too, in the
+schedule of my lost friends? Is it come to this?--
+
+    'Once I held thee dear as pearl,
+     Now I do abhor thee.'"
+
+Mr. Longcluse's chin rests on his breast as, with a faint smile, he thus
+ruminates.
+
+The cab stops. The light frown that had contracted his eyebrows
+disappears, he glances quickly up at the drawing-room windows, mounts
+the steps, and knocks at the hall door.
+
+"Is Lady May Penrose at home?" he asked.
+
+"I'll inquire, Sir."
+
+Was it fancy, or was there in his reception something a little unusual,
+and ominous of exclusion?
+
+He was, notwithstanding, shown up-stairs. Mr. Longcluse enters the
+drawing-room: Lady May will see him in a few minutes. He is alone. At
+the further end of this room is a smaller one, furnished like the
+drawing-room, the same curtains, carpet, and style, but much more minute
+and elaborate in ornamentation--an extremely pretty boudoir. He just
+peeps in. No, no one there. Then slowly he saunters into the other
+drawing-room, picks up a book, lays it down, and looks round. Quite
+solitary is this room also. His countenance changes a little. With a
+swift, noiseless step, he returns to the room he first entered. There is
+a little marqueterie table, to which he directs his steps, just behind
+the door from the staircase, under the pretty old buhl clock that ticks
+so merrily with its old wheels and lever, exciting the reverential
+curiosity of Monsieur Racine, who keeps it in order, and comments on its
+antique works with a mysterious smile every time he comes, to any one
+who will listen to him. The door is a little bit open. All the better,
+Mr. Longcluse will hear any step that approaches. On this little table
+lies an open note, hastily thrown there, and the pretty handwriting he
+has recognised. He knows it is Alice Arden's. Without the slightest
+scruple, this odd gentleman takes it up and reads a bit, and looks
+toward the door; reads a little more, and looks again, and so on to the
+end.
+
+On the principle that listeners seldom hear good of themselves, Mr.
+Longcluse's cautious perusal of another person's letter did not tell him
+a pleasant tale.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXXVII.
+
+WHAT ALICE COULD SAY.
+
+
+The letter which Mr. Longcluse held before his eyes was destined to
+throw a strong light upon the character of Alice Arden's feelings
+respecting himself. After a few lines, it went on to say:--"And,
+darling, about going to you this evening, I hardly know what to say, or,
+I mean, I hardly know how to say it. Mr. Longcluse, you know, may come
+in at any moment, and I have quite made up my mind that I cannot know
+him. I told you all about the incredible scene in the garden at
+Mortlake, and I showed you the very cool letter with which he saw fit to
+follow it--and yesterday the scene at the races, by which he contrived
+to make everything so uncomfortable--so, my dear creature, I mean to be
+cruel, and cut him. I am quite serious. He has not an idea how to behave
+himself; and the only way to repair the folly of having made the
+acquaintance of such an ill-bred person is, as I said, to cut him--you
+must not be angry--and Richard thinks exactly as I do. So, as I long to
+see you, and, in fact, can't live away from you very long, we must
+contrive some way of meeting now and then, without the risk of being
+disturbed by him. In the meantime, you must come more to Mortlake. It is
+too bad that an impertinent, conceited man should have caused me all
+this very real vexation."
+
+There was but little more, and it did not refer to the only subject that
+interested Longcluse just then. He would have liked to read it through
+once more, but he thought he heard a step. He let it fall where he had
+found it, and walked to the window. Perhaps, if he had read it again, it
+would have lost some of the force which a first impression gives to
+sentences so terrible; as it was, they glared upon his retina, through
+the same exaggerating medium through which his excited imagination and
+feelings had scanned them at first.
+
+Lady May entered, and Mr. Longcluse paid his respects, just as usual.
+You would not have supposed that anything had occurred to ruffle him.
+Lady May was just as affable as usual, but very much graver. She seemed
+to have something on her mind, and not to know how to begin.
+
+At length, after some little conversation, which flagged once or twice--
+
+"I have been thinking, Mr. Longcluse, I must have appeared very stupid,"
+says Lady May. "I did not ask you to be one of our party to the Derby:
+and I think it is always best to be quite frank, and I know you like it
+best. I'm afraid there has been some little misunderstanding. I hope in
+a short time it will be all got over, and everything quite pleasant
+again. But some of our friends--you, no doubt, know more about it than I
+do, for I must confess, I don't very well understand it--are vexed at
+something that has occurred, and----"
+
+Poor Lady May was obviously struggling with the difficulties of her
+explanation, and Mr. Longcluse relieved her.
+
+"Pray, dear Lady May, not a word more; you have always been so kind to
+me. Miss Arden and her brother choose to visit me with displeasure. I
+have nothing to reproach myself with, except with having misapprehended
+the terms on which Miss Arden is pleased to place me. She may however,
+be very sure that I sha'n't disturb her happy evenings here, or anywhere
+assume my former friendly privileges."
+
+"But Mr. Longcluse, I'm not to lose your acquaintance," said kindly Lady
+May, who was disposed to take an indulgent and even a romantic view of
+Mr. Longcluse's extravagances. "Perhaps it may be better to avoid a risk
+of meeting, under present circumstances; and, therefore, when I'm quite
+sure that no such awkwardness can occur, I can easily send you a line,
+and you will come if you can. You will do just as it happens to answer
+you best at the time."
+
+"It is extremely kind of you, Lady May. My evenings here have been so
+very happy that the idea of losing them altogether would make me more
+melancholy than I can tell."
+
+"Oh, no, I could not consent to lose you, Mr. Longcluse, and I'm sure
+this little quarrel can't last very long. Where people are amiable and
+friendly, there may be a misunderstanding, but there can't be a real
+quarrel, I maintain."
+
+With this little speech the interview closed, and the gentleman took a
+very friendly leave.
+
+Mr. Longcluse was in trouble. Blows had fallen rapidly upon him of late.
+But, as light is polarised by encountering certain incidents of
+reflection and refraction, grief entering his mind changed its
+character.
+
+The only articles of expense in which Mr. Longcluse indulged--and even
+in those his indulgence was very moderate--were horses. He was something
+of a judge of horses, and had that tendency to form friendships and
+intimacies with them which is proper to some minds. One of these he
+mounted, and rode away into the country, unattended. He took a long
+ride, at first at a tolerably hard pace. He chose the loneliest roads he
+could find. His exercise brought him no appetite; the interesting hour
+of dinner passed unimproved. The horse was tired now. Longcluse was
+slowly returning, and looking listlessly to his right, he thus
+soliloquised:--
+
+"Alone again. Not a soul in human shape to disclose my wounds to, not a
+soul. This is the way men go mad. He knows too well the torture he
+consigns me to. How often has my hand helped him out of the penalties of
+the dice-box and betting-book! How wildly have I committed myself to
+him!--how madly have I trusted him! How plausibly has he promised. The
+confounded miscreant! Has he good-nature, gratitude, justice, honour?
+Not a particle. He has betrayed me, slandered me fatally, where only on
+earth I dreaded slander, and he knew it; and he has ruined the only good
+hope I had on earth. He has launched it: sharp and heavy is the curse.
+Wait: it shall find him out. And _she_! I did not think Alice Arden
+could have written that letter. My eyes are opened. Well, she has
+refused to hear my good angel; the other may speak differently."
+
+He was riding along a narrow old road, with palings, and quaint old
+hedgerows, and now and then an old-fashioned brick house, staid and
+comfortable, with a cluster of lofty timber embowering it, and chimney
+smoke curling cosily over the foliage; and as he rode along, sometimes a
+window, with very thick white sashes, and a multitude of very small
+panes, sometimes the summit of a gable appeared. The lowing of unseen
+cows was heard over the fields, and the whistle of the birds in the
+hedges; and behind spread the cloudy sky of sunset, showing a peaceful
+old-world scene, in which Izaak Walton's milkmaid might have set down
+her pail, and sung her pretty song.
+
+Not another footfall was heard but the clink of his own horse's hoofs
+along the narrow road; and, as he looked westward, the flush of the sky
+threw an odd sort of fire-light over his death-pale features.
+
+"Time will unroll his book," said Longcluse, dreamily, as he rode
+onward, with a loose bridle on his horse's neck, "and my fingers will
+trace a name or two on the pages that are passing. That sunset, that
+sky--how grand, and glorious, and serene--the same always. Charlemagne
+saw it, and the Cæsars saw it, and the Pharaohs saw it, and we see it
+to-day. Is it worth while troubling ourselves here? How grand and quiet
+nature is, and how beautifully imperturbable! Why not we, who last so
+short a time--why not drift on with it, and take the blows that come,
+and suffer and enjoy the facts of life, and leave its dreadful dreams
+untried? Of all the follies we engage in, what more hollow than
+revenge--vainer than wealth?"
+
+Mr. Longcluse was preaching to himself, with the usual success of
+preachers. He knew himself what his harangue was driving at, although it
+borrowed the vagueness of the sky he was looking on. He fancied that he
+was discussing something with himself, which, nevertheless, was
+settled--so fixed, indeed, that nothing had power to alter it.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXXVIII.
+
+GENTLEMEN IN TROUBLE.
+
+
+Mr. Longcluse had now reached a turn in the road, at which stands an old
+house that recedes a little way and has four poplars growing in front of
+it, two at each side of the door. There are mouldy walls, and gardens,
+fruit and vegetables, in the rear, and in one wing of the house the
+proprietor is licenced to sell beer and other refreshing drinks. This
+quaint greengrocery and pot-house was not flourishing, I conjecture, for
+a cab was at the door, and Mr. Goldshed, the eminent Hebrew, on the
+steps, apparently on the point of leaving.
+
+He is a short, square man, a little round shouldered. He is very bald,
+with coarse, black hair, that might not unsuitably stuff a chair. His
+nose is big and drooping, his lips large and moist. He wears a black
+satin waistcoat, thrust up into wrinkles by his habit of stuffing his
+short hands, bedizened with rings, into his trousers pockets. He has on
+a peculiar low-crowned hat. He is smoking a cigar, and talking over his
+shoulder, at intervals, in brief sentences that have a harsh, brazen
+ring, and are charged with scoff and menace. No game is too small for
+Mr. Goldshed's pursuit. He ought to have made two hundred pounds of this
+little venture. He has not lost, it is true; but, when all is squared,
+he'll not have made a shilling, and that for a Jew, you know, is very
+hard to bear.
+
+In the midst of this intermittent snarl, the large, dark eyes of this
+man lighted on Mr. Longcluse, and he arrested the sentence that was
+about to fly over his shoulder, in the disconsolate faces of the broken
+little family in the passage. A smile suddenly beamed all over his dusky
+features, his airs of lordship quite forsook him, and he lifted his hat
+to the great man with a cringing salutation. The weaker spirit was
+overawed by the more potent. It was the catape doing homage to
+Mephistopheles, in the witch's chamber.
+
+He shuffled out upon the road, with a lazy smile, lifting his hat again,
+and very deferentially greeted "Mishter Longclooshe." He had thrown away
+his exhausted cigar, and the red sun glittered in sparkles on the chains
+and jewelry that were looped across his wrinkled black satin waistcoat.
+
+"How d'ye do, Mr. Goldshed? Anything particular to say to me?"
+
+"Nothing, no, Mr. Longclooshe. I sposhe you heard of that dip in the
+Honduras?"
+
+"They'll get over it, but we sha'n't see them so high again soon. Have
+you that cab all to yourself, Mr. Goldshed?"
+
+"No, Shir, my partner'sh with me. He'll be out in a minute; he'sh only
+puttin' a chap on to make out an inventory."
+
+"Well, I don't want him. Would you mind walking down the road here, a
+couple of hundred steps or so? I have a word for you. Your partner can
+overtake you in the cab."
+
+"Shertainly, Mr. Longclooshe, shertainly, Shir."
+
+And he halloed to the cabman to tell the "zhentleman" who was coming out
+to overtake him in the cab on the road to town.
+
+This settled, Mr. Longcluse, walking his horse along the road, and his
+City acquaintance by his side, slowly made their way towards the City,
+casting long shadows over the low fence into the field at their left;
+and Mr. Goldshed's stumpy legs were projected across the road in such
+slender proportions that he felt for a moment rather slight and elegant,
+and was unusually disgusted, when he glanced down upon the substance of
+those shadows, at the unnecessarily clumsy style in which Messrs. Shears
+and Goslin had cut out his brown trousers.
+
+Mr. Longcluse had a good deal to say when they got on a little. Being
+earnest, he stopped his horse; and Mr. Goldshed, forgetting his
+reverence in his absorption, placed his broad hand on the horse's
+shoulder, as he looked up into Mr. Longcluse's face, and now and then
+nodded, or grunted a "Surely." It was not until the shadows had grown
+perceptibly longer, until Mr. Longcluse's hat had stolen away to the
+gilded stem of the old ash-tree that was in perspective to their left,
+and until Mr. Goldshed's legs had grown so taper and elegant as to
+amount to the spindle, that the talk ended, and Mr. Longcluse, who was a
+little shy of being seen in such company, bid him good evening, and rode
+away townward at a brisk trot.
+
+That morning Richard Arden looked as if he had got up after a month's
+fever. His dinner had been a pretence, and his breakfast was a sham. His
+luck, as he termed it, had got him at last pretty well into a corner.
+The placing of the horses was a dreadful record of moral impossibilities
+accomplished against him. Five minutes before the start he could have
+sold his book for three thousand pounds; five minutes after it no one
+would have accepted fifteen thousand to take it off his hands. The
+shock, at first a confusion, had grown in the night into ghastly order.
+It was all, in the terms of the good old simile, "as plain as a
+pike-staff." He simply could not pay. He might sell everything he
+possessed, and pay about ten shillings in the pound, and then work his
+passage to another country, and become an Australian drayman, or a New
+Orleans billiard-marker.
+
+But not pay his bets! And how could he? Ten shillings in the pound? Not
+five. He forgot how far he was already involved. What _was_ to become of
+him. Breakfast he could eat none. He drank a cup of tea, but his tremors
+grew worse. He tried claret, but that, too, was chilly comfort. He was
+driven to an experiment he had never ventured before. He had a "nip,"
+and another, and with this Dutch courage rallied a little, and was able
+to talk to his friend and admirer, Vandeleur, who had made a miniature
+book after the pattern of Dick Arden's and had lost some hundreds, which
+he did not know how to pay; and who was, in his degree, as miserable as
+his chief; for is it not established that--
+
+    "The poor beetle, that we tread upon,
+     In corporal sufferance feels a pang as great
+     As when a giant dies"?
+
+Young Vandeleur, with light silken hair, and innocent blue eyes, found
+his paragon the picture of "grim-visaged, comfortless despair," drumming
+a tattoo on the window, in slippers and dressing-gown, without a collar
+to his shirt.
+
+"You lost, of course," said Richard savagely; "you followed my lead. Any
+fellow that does is sure to lose."
+
+"Yes," answered Vandeleur, "I did, heavily; and, I give you my honour, I
+believe I'm ruined."
+
+"How much?"
+
+"Two hundred and forty pounds!"
+
+"_Ruined!_ What nonsense! Who are you? or what the devil are you making
+such a row about? Two hundred and forty! How can you be such an ass?
+Don't you know it's nothing?"
+
+"Nothing! By Jove! I wish I could see it," said poor Van; "everything's
+something to any one, when there's nothing to pay it with. I'm not like
+you, you know; I'm awfully poor. I have just a hundred and twenty pounds
+from my office, and forty my aunt gives me, and ninety I get from home,
+and, upon my honour, that's all; and I owed just a hundred pounds to
+some fellows that were growing impertinent. My tailor is sixty-four, and
+the rest are trifling, but they were the most impertinent, and I was so
+sure of this unfortunate thing that I told them I--really did--to call
+next week; and now I suppose it's all up with me, I may as well make a
+bolt of it. Instead of having any money to pay them, I'm two hundred and
+forty pounds worse than ever. I don't know what on earth to do. Upon my
+honour, I haven't an idea."
+
+"I wish we could exchange our accounts," said Richard grimly: "I wish
+you owed my sixteen thousand. I think you'd sink through the earth. I
+think you'd call for a pistol, and blow"--(he was going to say, "your
+brains out," but he would not pay him that compliment)--"blow your head
+off."
+
+So it was the old case--"_Enter Tilburina, mad, in white satin; enter
+her maid, mad, in white linen._"
+
+And Richard Arden continued--
+
+"What's your aunt good for? You _know_ she will pay that; don't let me
+hear a word more about it."
+
+"And your uncle will pay yours, won't he?" said Van, with an innocent
+gaze of his azure eyes.
+
+"My uncle has paid some trifles before, but this is too big a thing.
+He's tired of me and my cursed misfortunes, and he's not likely to apply
+any of his overgrown wealth in relieving a poor tortured beggar like me.
+I'm simply ruined."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXXIX.
+
+BETWEEN FRIENDS.
+
+
+Van was looking ruefully out of the window, down upon the deserted
+pavement opposite. At length he said,--
+
+"And why don't you give your luck a chance?"
+
+"Whenever I give it a chance it hits me so devilish hard," replied
+Richard Arden.
+
+"But I mean at play to retrieve," said Van.
+
+"So do I. So I did, last night, and lost another thousand. It is utterly
+monstrous."
+
+"By Jove! that is really very extraordinary," exclaimed little Van. "I
+tried it, too, last night. Tom Franklyn had some fellows to sup with
+him, and I went in, and they were playing loo; and I lost thirty-seven
+pounds more!"
+
+"Thirty-seven confounded flea-bites! Why, don't you see how you torture
+me with your nonsense? If you can't talk like a man of sense, for
+Heaven's sake, shut up, and don't distract me in my misery."
+
+He emphasised the word with a Lilliputian thump with the side of his
+fist--that which presents the edge of the doubled-up little finger and
+palm--a sort of buffer, which I suppose he thought he might safely apply
+to the pane of glass on which he had been drumming. But he hit a little
+too hard, or there was a flaw in the glass, for the pane flew out,
+touching the window-sill, and alighted in the area with a musical
+jingle.
+
+"There! see what you made me do. My luck! Now we can't talk without
+those brutes at that open window, over the way, hearing every word we
+say. By Jove, it is later than I thought! I did not sleep last night."
+
+"Nor I, a moment," said Van.
+
+"It seems like a week since that accursed race, and I don't know whether
+it is morning or evening, or day or night. It is past four, and I must
+dress and go to my uncle--he said five. Don't leave me, Van, old fellow!
+I think I should cut my throat if I were alone."
+
+"Oh, no, I'll stay with pleasure, although I don't see what comfort
+there is in me, for I am about the most miserable dog in London."
+
+"Now don't make a fool of yourself any more," said Richard Arden. "You
+have only to tell your aunt, and say that you are a prodigal son, and
+that sort of thing, and it will be paid in a week. I look as if I was
+going to be hanged--or is it the colour of that glass? I hate it. I'll
+leave these cursed lodgings. Did you ever see such a ghost?"
+
+"Well, you do look a trifle seedy: you'll look better when you're
+dressed. It's an awful world to live in," said poor Van.
+
+"I'll not be five minutes; you must walk with me a bit of the way. I
+wish I had some fellow at my other side who had lost a hundred thousand.
+I daresay he'd think me a fool. They say Chiffington lost a hundred and
+forty thousand. Perhaps he'd think me as great an ass as I think
+you--who knows? I may be making too much of it--and my uncle is so very
+rich, and neither wife nor child; and, I give you my honour, I am sick
+of the whole thing. I'd never take a card or a dice-box in my hand, or
+back a horse, while I live, if I was once fairly out of it. He _might_
+try me, don't you think? I'm the only near relation he has on earth--I
+don't count my father, for he's--it's a different thing, you know--I and
+my sister, just. And, really, it would be nothing to him. And I think he
+suspected something about it last night; perhaps he heard a little of
+it. And he's rather hot, but he's a good-natured fellow, and he has
+commercial ideas about a man's going into the insolvent court; and, by
+Jove, you know, I'm ruined, and I don't think he'd like to see our name
+disgraced--eh, do you?"
+
+"No, I'm quite sure," said Van. "I thought so all along."
+
+"Peers and peeresses are very fine in their way, and people, whenever
+the peers do anything foolish, and throw out a bill, exclaim 'Thank
+Heaven we have still a House of Lords!' but you and I, Van, may thank
+Heaven for a better estate, the order of aunts and uncles. Do you
+remember the man you and I saw in the vaudeville, who exclaims every now
+and then, '_Vive mon oncle! Vive ma tante!_'?"
+
+So, in better spirits, Arden prepared to visit his uncle.
+
+"Let us get into a cab; people are staring at you," said Richard Arden,
+when they had walked a little way towards his uncle's house. "You look
+so utterly ruined, one would think you had swallowed poison, and were
+dying by inches, and expected to be in the other world before you
+reached your doctor's door. Here's a cab."
+
+They got in, and sitting side by side, said Vandeleur to him, after a
+minute's silence,--
+
+"I've been thinking of a thing--why did not you take Mr. Longcluse into
+council? He gave you a lift before, don't you remember? and he lost
+nothing by it, and made everything smooth. Why don't you look him up?"
+
+"I've been an awful fool, Van."
+
+"How so?"
+
+"I've had a sort of row with Longcluse, and there are reasons--I could
+not, at all events, have asked him. It would have been next to
+impossible, and now it is _quite_ impossible."
+
+"Why should it be? He seemed to like you; and I venture to say he'd be
+very glad to shake hands."
+
+"So he might, but _I_ shouldn't," said Richard imperiously. "No, no,
+there's nothing in that. It would take too long to tell; but I should
+rather go over the precipice than hold by that stay. I don't know how
+long my uncle may keep me. Would you mind waiting for me at my lodgings?
+Thompson will give you cigars and brandy and water; and I'll come back
+and tell you what my uncle intends."
+
+This appointment made, they parted, and he knocked at his uncle's door.
+The sound seemed to echo threateningly at his heart, which sank with a
+sudden misgiving.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XL.
+
+AN INTERVIEW IN THE STUDY.
+
+
+"Is my uncle at home?"
+
+"No, Sir; I expect him at five. It wants about five minutes; but he
+desired me to show you, Sir, into the study."
+
+He was now alone in that large square room. The books, each in its
+place, in a vellum uniform, with a military precision and
+nattiness--seldom disturbed, I fancy, for Uncle David was not much of a
+book-worm--chilled him with an aspect of inflexible formality; and the
+busts, in cold white marble, standing at intervals on their pedestals,
+seemed to have called up looks, like Mrs. Pentweezle, for the occasion.
+Demosthenes, with his wrenched neck and square brow, had evidently heard
+of his dealings with Lord Pindledykes, and made up his mind, when the
+proper time came, to denounce him with a tempest of appropriate
+eloquence. There was in Cicero's face, he thought, something satirical
+and conceited which was new and odious; and under Plato's external
+solemnity he detected a pleasurable and roguish anticipation of the
+coming scene.
+
+His uncle was very punctual. A few minutes would see him in the room,
+and then two or three sentences would disclose the purpose he meditated.
+In the midst of the trepidation which had thus returned, he heard his
+uncle's knock at the hall-door, and in another moment he entered the
+study.
+
+"How d'ye do, Richard? You're punctual. I wish our meeting was a
+pleasanter one. Sit down. You haven't kept faith with me. It is scarcely
+a year since, with a large sum of money, such as at your age I should
+have thought a fortune, I rescued you from bad hands and a great danger.
+Now, Sir, do you remember a promise you then made me? and have you kept
+your word?"
+
+"I confess, uncle, I know I can't excuse myself; but I was tempted, and
+I am weak--I am a fool, worse than a fool--whatever you please to call
+me, and I'm sorry. Can I say more?" pleaded the young man.
+
+"That is saying nothing. It simply means that you do the thing that
+pleases you, and break your word where your inclination prompts; and you
+are sorry because it has turned out unluckily. I have heard that you are
+again in danger. I am not going to help you." His blue eyes looked cold
+and hard, and the oblique light showed severe lines at his brows and
+mouth. It was a face which, generally kindly, could yet look, on
+occasion, stern enough. "Now, observe, I'm not going to help you; I'm
+not even going to reason with you--you can do that for yourself, if you
+please--I will simply help you with _light_. Thus forewarned, you need
+not, of course, answer any one of the questions I am about to put, and
+to ask which, I have no other claim than that which rests upon having
+put you on your feet, and paid five thousand pounds for you, only a year
+ago."
+
+"But I entreat that you do put them. I'm ashamed of myself, dear Uncle
+David; I implore of you to ask me whatever you please: I'll answer
+everything."
+
+"Well, I think I know everything; Lord Pindledykes makes no secret of
+it. He's the man, isn't he?"
+
+"Yes, Sir."
+
+"That's the sallow, dissipated-looking fellow, with the eye that squints
+outward. I know his appearance very well; I knew his good-for-nothing
+father. No one likes to have transactions with that fellow--he's
+shunned--and you chose him, of all people; and he has pigeoned you. I've
+heard all about it. Everybody knows by this time. And you have really
+lost fifteen thousand pounds to him?"
+
+"I am afraid, uncle, it is very near that."
+
+"This, you know," resumed Uncle David, "is not debt: it is ruin. You
+chose to mortgage your reversion to some Jews, for fifteen hundred a
+year, during your father's lifetime. Three hundred would have been
+ample, with the hundred a year you had before--ample; but you chose to
+do it, and the estates, whenever you succeed to them, will come to you
+with a very heavy debt charged, for those Jews, upon them. I don't
+suppose the estates are destined to continue long in our family; but
+this is a vexation which don't touch you, nephew. _I_ am, I confess,
+sorry. They were in our family, some of them, before the Conquest. No
+matter. What you have to consider is your present position. They will
+come to you, if ever, saddled with a heavy debt; and, in the meantime,
+you have fifteen hundred a year for your father's life; and I don't
+think it will sell for anything like the fifteen thousand pounds you
+have just lost. You are therefore insolvent; there is the story told. I
+see nothing for it but your becoming formally an insolvent. It is the
+_bourgeoisie_ who shrink from that sort of thing; titled men, and men of
+pleasure and fashion, don't seem to mind it. There are Lord Harry
+Newgate, and the Honourable Alfred Pentonville, and Sir Aymerick Pigeon,
+one of the oldest baronets in England, have been in the _Gazette_ within
+the last twelve months. The money I paid, on the faith of your promise,
+is worse than wasted. I'll pay no more into the pockets of rooks and
+scoundrels; I'll divide no more of my money among blackguard jockeys and
+villanous peers, simply to defer for a few months the consequences of a
+fool's incorrigible folly."
+
+"But, you know, uncle, I was not quite so mad. The thing was a swindle;
+it can't stand. The horse was not fairly treated."
+
+"I daresay: I suppose it was doctored. I don't care; I only think that
+unless you meant to go in for drugging horses and bribing jockeys, you
+had no business among such people, and at that sort of game. All I want
+is that you clearly understand that in this matter--though I would
+gladly see you safely out of it--I'll waste no more money in paying
+gambling debts."
+
+"This might have happened to anyone, Sir; it might indeed, uncle. Every
+second man you meet is more or less on the turf, and they never come to
+grief by it. No one, of course, can stand against a barefaced swindle,
+like this thing."
+
+"I don't care a farthing about other people; I've seen how it tells upon
+you. I don't affect to value your promises, Dick; I don't think that
+they are worth a shilling. How many have you made me, and broken? To me
+it seems the vice is incurable, like drunkenness. Tattersall's, or
+whatever is your place of business, is no better than the gin-palace;
+and when once a fellow is fairly on the turf, the sooner he is under it,
+the better for himself and all who like him. And you have lost money at
+play besides. I heard that quite accidentally; and I daresay that is a
+ruinous item in what I may call your schedule."
+
+"I know what people are saying; but it isn't so immense a sum, by any
+means."
+
+"I'm sorry to hear it. I wish it was enormous; I wish it was a million.
+I wish your failure could ruin every blackguard in England: the more
+heavily you have hit them all round, the better I am pleased. They hit
+you and me, Dick, pretty hard last time; it is our turn now. It is not
+my fault now, Dick, if you don't understand me perfectly. If at any
+future time I should do anything for you--by my _will_, mind--I shall
+take care so to tie it up that you can't make away with a guinea. My
+advice is not worth much to you, but I venture to give it, and I think
+the best thing you can do is to submit to your misfortune, and file your
+schedule; and when you are your own master again, I shall see if I can
+manage some small thing for you. You will have to work for your bread,
+you know, and you can't expect very much at first; but there are
+things--of course, I mean in commercial establishments, and railways,
+and that kind of thing--where I have an influence, of from a hundred and
+twenty to two hundred pounds a year, and for some of them you would
+answer pretty well, and you can tide over the time till you succeed to
+the title: and after a little while I may be able to get you raised a
+step; and when once you get accustomed to work, you can't think how you
+will come to like it. So that, on the whole, the knock you have got may
+do you some good, and make you prize your position more when you come to
+it. Will you go up-stairs, and take a cup of tea with Miss Maubray?"
+
+He used to call her Grace, when speaking to Richard. Perhaps, in the
+concussion of this earthquake, the fabric of a matrimonial scheme may
+have fallen to the ground.
+
+Richard Arden was too dejected and too agitated to accept this
+invitation, I need hardly tell you. He took his leave, chapfallen.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XLI.
+
+VAN APPOINTS HIMSELF TO A DIPLOMATIC POST.
+
+
+Mr. Vandeleur had availed himself very freely of Richard Arden's
+invitation, to amuse himself during his absence with his cheroots and
+manillas, as the clouded state of the atmosphere of his drawing-room
+testified to that luckless gentleman--if indeed he was in a condition to
+observe anything, on returning from his dreadful interview with his
+uncle.
+
+Richard's countenance was full of thunder and disaster. Vandeleur looked
+in his face, with his cigar in his fingers, and said in a faint and
+hollow tone--
+
+"Well?"
+
+To which inappropriate form of inquiry, Richard Arden deigned no reply;
+but in silence stalked to the box of cigars on the table, threw himself
+into a chair, and smoked violently for awhile.
+
+Some minutes passed. Vandeleur's eyes were fixed, through the smoke, on
+Richard's, who had fixed his on the chimney-piece. Van respected his
+ruminations. With a delicate and noiseless attention, indeed, he
+ventured to slide gently to his side the water carafe, and the brandy,
+and a tumbler.
+
+Still silence prevailed. After a time, Richard Arden poured brandy and
+water suddenly into his glass.
+
+"Think of that fellow, that uncle of mine--pretty uncle! Kind
+relation--rolling in money! He sends for me simply to tell me that he
+won't give me a guinea. He might have waited till he was asked. If he
+had nothing better to say, he need not have given me the trouble of
+going to his odious, bleak study, to hear all his vulgar advice and
+arithmetic, ending in--what do you think? He says that I'm to be had up
+in the bankrupt court, and when all that is over he'll get me appointed a
+ticket-taker on a railway, or a clerk in a pawn-office, or something. By
+Heaven! when I think of it, I wonder how I kept my temper. I'm not quite
+driven to those curious expedients, that he seems to think so natural.
+I've some cards still left in my hand, and I'll play them first, if it
+is the same to him; and, hang it! my luck can't always run the same way.
+I'll give it another chance before I give up, and to-morrow morning
+things may be very different with me."
+
+"It's an awful pity you quarrelled with Longcluse!" exclaimed Vandeleur.
+
+"That's done, and can't be undone," said Richard Arden, resuming his
+cigar.
+
+"I wonder why you quarrelled with him. Why, good heavens! that man is
+made of money, and he got you safe out of that fellow's clutches--I
+forget his name--about that bet with Mr. Slanter, don't you
+remember--and he was so very kind about it; and I'm sure he'd shake
+hands if you'd only ask him, and one way or another he'd pull you
+through."
+
+"I can't ask him, and I won't; he may ask _me_ if he likes. I'm very
+sure there is nothing he would like better, for fifty reasons, than to
+be on good terms with me again, and I have no wish to quarrel any more
+than he has. But if there is to be a reconciliation, I can't begin it.
+He must make the overtures, and that's all."
+
+"He seemed such an awfully jolly fellow that time. And it is such a
+frightful state we are both in. I never came such a mucker before in my
+life. I know him pretty well. I met him at Lady May Penrose's, and at
+the Playfairs', and one night I walked home with him from the opera. It
+is an awful pity you are not on terms with him, and--by Jove! I must go
+and have something to eat; it is near eight o'clock."
+
+Away went Van, and out of the wreck of his fortune contrived a modest
+dinner at Verey's; and pondering, after dinner, upon the awful plight of
+himself and his comrade, he came at last to the heroic resolution of
+braving the dangers of a visit to Mr. Longcluse, on behalf of his
+friend; and as it was now past nine, he hastily paid the waiter, took
+his hat, and set out upon his adventure. It was a mere chance, he knew,
+and a very unlikely one, his finding Mr. Longcluse at home at that hour.
+He knew that he was doing a very odd thing in calling at past nine
+o'clock; but the occasion was anomalous, and Mr. Longcluse would
+understand. He knocked at the door, and learned from the servant that
+his master was engaged with a gentleman in the study, on business. From
+this room he heard a voice, faintly discoursing in a deep metallic
+drawl.
+
+"Who shall I say, Sir?" asked the servant.
+
+If his mission had been less monotonous, and he less excited and
+sanguine as to his diplomatic success, he would have, as he said,
+"funked it altogether," and gone away. He hesitated for a moment, and
+determined upon the form most likely to procure an interview.
+
+"Say Mr. Vandeleur--a friend of Mr. Richard Arden's; you'll remember,
+please--a friend of Mr. Richard Arden's."
+
+In a moment the man returned.
+
+"Will you please to walk up-stairs?" and he showed him into the
+drawing-room.
+
+In little more than a minute, Mr. Longcluse himself entered. His eyes
+were fixed on the visitor with a rather stern curiosity. Perhaps he had
+interpreted the term "friend" a little too technically. He made him a
+ceremonious bow, in French fashion, and placed a chair for him.
+
+"I had the pleasure of being introduced to you, Mr. Longcluse, at Lady
+May Penrose's. My name is Vandeleur."
+
+"I have had that honour, Mr. Vandeleur, I remember perfectly. The
+servant mentioned that you announced yourself as Mr. Arden's friend, if
+I don't mistake."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XLII.
+
+DIPLOMACY.
+
+
+Mr. Vandeleur and Mr. Longcluse were now seated, and the former
+gentleman said--
+
+"Yes, I am a friend of Mr. Arden's--so much so, that I have ventured
+what I hope you won't think a very impertinent liberty. I was so very
+sorry to hear that a misunderstanding had occurred--I did not ask him
+about what--and he has been so unlucky about the Derby, you know--I
+ought to say that I am, upon my honour, a mere volunteer, so perhaps you
+will think I have no right to ask you to listen to me."
+
+"I shall be happy to continue this conversation, Mr. Vandeleur, upon one
+condition."
+
+"Pray name it."
+
+"That you report it fully to the gentleman for whom you are so kind as
+to interest yourself."
+
+"Yes, I'll certainly do that."
+
+Mr. Longcluse looked by no means so jolly as Van remembered him, and he
+thought he detected, at mention of Richard Arden's name, for a moment, a
+look of positive malevolence--I can't say absolutely, it may have been
+fancy--as he turned quickly, and the light played suddenly on his face.
+
+Mr. Longcluse could, perhaps, dissemble as well as other men; but there
+were cases in which he would not be at the trouble to dissemble. And
+here his expression was so unpleasant, upon features so strangely marked
+and so white, that Van thought the effect ugly, and even ghastly.
+
+"I shall be happy, then, to hear anything you have to say," said
+Longcluse gently.
+
+"You are very kind. I was just going to say that he has been so
+unlucky--he has lost so much money----"
+
+"I had better say, I think, at once, Mr. Vandeleur, that nothing shall
+tempt me to take any part in Mr. Arden's affairs."
+
+Van's mild blue eyes looked on him wonderingly.
+
+"You could be of so much use, Mr. Longcluse!"
+
+"I don't desire to be of any."
+
+"But--but that may be, I think it must, in consequence of the unhappy
+estrangement."
+
+He had been conning over phrases on his way, and thought that a pretty
+one.
+
+"A very happy estrangement, on the contrary, for the man who is straight
+and true, and who is by it relieved of a great--mistake."
+
+"I should be so extremely happy," said Van lingeringly, "if I were
+instrumental in inducing both parties to shake hands."
+
+"I don't desire it."
+
+"But, surely, if Richard Arden were the first to offer----"
+
+"I should decline."
+
+Van rose; he fiddled with his hat a little; he hesitated. He had staked
+too much on this--for had he not promised to report the whole thing to
+Richard Arden, who was not likely to be pleased?--to give up without one
+last effort.
+
+"I hope I am not very impertinent," he said, "but I can hardly think,
+Mr. Longcluse, that you are quite indifferent to a reconciliation."
+
+"I'm not indifferent--I'm averse to it."
+
+"I don't understand."
+
+"Will you take some tea?"
+
+"No, thanks; I do so hope that I don't quite understand."
+
+"That's hardly my fault; I have spoken very distinctly."
+
+"Then what you wish to convey is----" said Van, with his hand now at the
+door.
+
+"Is this," said Longcluse, "that I decline Mr. Arden's acquaintance,
+that I won't consider his affairs, and that I peremptorily refuse to be
+of the slightest use to him in his difficulties. I hope I am now
+sufficiently distinct."
+
+"Oh, perfectly--I----"
+
+"Pray take some tea."
+
+"And my visit is a failure. I'm awfully sorry I can't be of any use!"
+
+"None here, Sir, to Mr. Arden--none, no more than I."
+
+"Then I have only to beg of you to accept my apologies for having given
+you a great deal of trouble, and to beg pardon for having disturbed you,
+and to say good-night."
+
+"No trouble--none. I am glad everything is clear now. Good-night."
+
+And Mr. Longcluse saw him politely to the door, and said again, in a
+clear, stern tone, but with a smile and another bow, "Good-night," as he
+parted at the door.
+
+About an hour later a servant arrived with a letter for Mr. Longcluse.
+That gentleman recognised the hand, and suspended his business to read
+it. He did so with a smile. It was thus expressed:--
+
+    "SIR,
+
+    "I beg to inform you, in the distinctest terms, that neither Mr.
+    Vandeleur, nor any other gentleman, had any authority from me to
+    enter into any discussion with you, or to make the slightest
+    allusion to subjects upon which Mr. Vandeleur, at your desire, tells
+    me he, this evening, thought fit to converse with you. And I beg, in
+    the most pointed manner, to disavow all connection with, or previous
+    knowledge of, that gentleman's visit and conversation. And I do so
+    lest Mr. Vandeleur's assertion to the same effect should appear
+    imperfect without mine.--I remain, Sir, your obedient servant,
+
+    "RICHARD ARDEN.
+
+    "To Walter Longcluse, Esq."
+
+"Does any one wait for an answer?" he asked, still smiling.
+
+"Yes, Sir: Mr. Thompson, please, Sir."
+
+"Very well; ask him to wait a moment," said he, and he wrote as
+follows:--
+
+    "Mr. Longcluse takes the liberty of returning Mr. Arden's letter,
+    and begs to decline any correspondence with him."
+
+And this note, with Richard Arden's letter, he enclosed in an envelope,
+and addressed to that gentleman.
+
+While this correspondence, by no means friendly, was proceeding, other
+letters were interesting, very profoundly, other persons in this drama.
+
+Old David Arden had returned early from a ponderous dinner of the
+magnates of that world which interested him more than the world of
+fashion, or even of politics, and he was sitting in his study at
+half-past ten, about a quarter of a mile westward of Mr. Longcluse's
+house in Bolton Street.
+
+Not many letters had come for him by the late post. There were two which
+he chose to read forthwith. The rest would, in Swift's phrase, keep
+cool, and he could read them before his breakfast in the morning. The
+first was a note posted at Islington. He knew his niece's pretty hand.
+This was an "advice" from Mortlake. The second which he picked up from
+the little pack was a foreign letter, of more than usual bulk.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XLIII.
+
+A LETTER AND A SUMMONS.
+
+
+Paris? Yes, he knew the hand well. His face darkened a little with a
+peculiar anxiety. This he will read first. He draws the candles all
+together, near the corner of the table at which he sits. He can't have
+too much light on these formal lines, legible and tall as the letters
+are. He opens the thin envelope, and reads what follows:--
+
+    "DEAR AND HONOURED SIR,
+
+    "I am in receipt of yours of the 13th instant. You judge me rightly
+    in supposing that I have entered on my mission with a willing mind,
+    and no thought of sparing myself. On the 11th instant I presented
+    the letter you were so good as to provide me with to M. de la
+    Perriere. He received me with much consideration in consequence. You
+    have not been misinformed with regard to his position. His influence
+    is, and so long as the present Cabinet remain in power will continue
+    to be, more than sufficient to procure for me the information and
+    opportunities you so much desire. He explained to me very fully the
+    limits of that assistance which official people here have it in
+    their power to afford. Their prerogative is more extensive than with
+    us, but at the same time it has its points of circumscription. Every
+    private citizen has his well-defined rights, which they can in no
+    case invade. He says that had I come armed with affidavits
+    criminating any individual, or even justifying a strong and distinct
+    suspicion, their powers would be much larger. As it is, he cautions
+    me against taking any steps that might alarm Vanboeren. The baron is
+    a suspicious man, it seems, and has, moreover, once or twice been
+    under official surveillance, which has made him crafty. He is not
+    likely to be caught napping. He ostensibly practises the professions
+    of a surgeon and dentist. In the latter capacity he has a very
+    considerable business. But his principal income is derived, I am
+    informed, from sources of a different kind."
+
+"H'm! what can he mean? I suppose he explains a little further on,"
+mused Mr. Arden.
+
+    "He is, in short, a practitioner about whom suspicions of an
+    infamous kind have prevailed. One branch of his business, a rather
+    strange one, has connected him with persons, more considerable in
+    number than you would readily believe, who were, or are, political
+    refugees."
+
+"Can this noble baron be a distiller of poisons?" David Arden ruminated.
+
+    "In all his other equivocal doings, he found, on the few occasions
+    that seemed to threaten danger, mysterious protectors, sufficiently
+    powerful to bring him off scot-free. His relations of a political
+    character were those which chiefly brought him under the secret
+    notice of the police. It is believed that he has amassed a fortune,
+    and it is certain that he is about to retire from business. I can
+    much better explain to you, when I see you, the remarkable
+    circumstances to which I have but alluded. I hope to be in town
+    again, and to have the honour of waiting upon you, on Thursday, the
+    29th instant."
+
+"Ay, that's the day he named at parting. What a punctual fellow that
+is!"
+
+    "They appear to me to have a very distinct bearing upon some
+    possible views of the case in which you are so justly interested.
+    The Baron Vanboeren is reputed very wealthy, but he is by no means
+    liberal in his dealings, and is said to be insatiably avaricious.
+    This last quality may make him practicable----"
+
+"Yes, so it may," acquiesced Uncle David.
+
+    "so that disclosures of importance may be obtained, if he be
+    approached in the proper manner. Lebas was connected, as a mechanic,
+    with the dentistry department of his business. Mr. L---- has been
+    extremely kind to Lebas' widow and children, and has settled a small
+    annuity upon her, and fifteen hundred francs each upon his
+    children."
+
+"Eh? Upon my life, that is very handsome--extremely handsome. It gives
+me rather new ideas of this man--that is, if there's nothing odd in it,"
+said Mr. Arden.
+
+    "The deed by which he has done all this is, in its reciting part, an
+    eccentric one. I waited, as I advised you in mine of the 12th, upon
+    M. Arnaud, who is the legal man employed by Madame Lebas, for the
+    purpose of handing him the ten napoleons which you were so good as
+    to transmit for the use of his family; which sum he has, with many
+    thanks on the part of Madame Lebas, declined, and which, therefore,
+    I hold still to your credit. When explaining to me that lady's
+    reasons for declining your remittance, he requested me to read a
+    deed of gift from Mr. Longcluse, making the provisions I have before
+    referred to, and reciting, as nearly in these words as I can
+    remember:--'Whereas I entertained for the deceased Pierre Lebas, in
+    whose house in Paris I lodged when very young, for more than a year
+    and a half, a very great respect and regard: and whereas I hold
+    myself to have been the innocent cause of his having gone to the
+    room, as appears from my evidence, in which, unhappily, he lost his
+    life: and whereas I look upon it as a disgrace to our City of London
+    that such a crime could have been committed in a place of public
+    resort, frequented as that was at the time, without either
+    interruption or detection; and whereas, so regarding it, I think
+    that such citizens as could well afford to subscribe money,
+    adequately to compensate the family of the deceased for the
+    pecuniary loss which both his widow and children have sustained by
+    reason of his death, were bound to do so; his visit to London having
+    been strictly a commercial one; and all persons connected with the
+    trade of London being more or less interested in the safety of the
+    commercial intercourse between the two countries: and whereas the
+    citizens of London have failed, although applied to for the purpose,
+    to make any such compensation; now this deed witnesseth,' etc."
+
+"Well, in all that, I certainly go with him. We Londoners ought to be
+ashamed of ourselves."
+
+    "The widow has taken her children to Avranches, her native place,
+    where she means to live. Please direct me whether I shall proceed
+    thither, and also upon what particular points you would wish me to
+    interrogate her. I have learned, this moment, that the Baron
+    Vanboeren retires in October next. It is thought that he will fix
+    his residence after that at Berlin. My informant undertakes to
+    advise me of his address, whenever it is absolutely settled. In
+    approaching this baron, it is thought you will have to exercise
+    caution and dexterity, as he has the reputation of being cunning and
+    unscrupulous."
+
+"I'm not good at dealing with such people--I never was. I must engage
+some long-headed fellow who understands them," said he.
+
+    "I debit myself with two thousand five hundred francs, the amount of
+    your remittance on the 15th inst., for which I will account at
+    sight.--I remain, dear and honoured Sir, your attached and most
+    obedient servant,
+
+    "CHRISTOPHER BLOUNT."
+
+"I shall learn all he knows in a few days. What is it that deprives me
+of quiet till a clue be found to the discovery of Yelland Mace? And why
+is it that the fancy has seized me that Mr. Longcluse knows where that
+villain may be found? He admitted, in talking to Alice, she says, that
+he had seen him in his young days. I will pick up all the facts, and
+then consider well all that they may point to. Let us but get the
+letters together, and in time we may find out what they spell. Here am
+I, a rich but sad old bachelor, having missed for ever the best hope of
+my life. Poor Harry long dead, and but one branch of the old tree with
+fruit upon it--Reginald, with his two children: Richard, my
+nephew--Richard Arden, in a few years the sole representative of the
+whole family of Arden, and he such a scamp and fool! If a childless old
+fellow could care for such things, it would be enough to break my heart.
+And poor little Alice! So affectionate and so beautiful, left, as she
+will be, alone, with such a protector as that fellow! I pity her."
+
+At that moment her unopened note caught his eye, as it lay on the table.
+He opened it, and read these words:--
+
+    "MY DEAREST UNCLE DAVID,
+
+    "I am so miserable and perplexed, and so utterly without any one to
+    befriend or advise me in my present unexpected trouble, that I must
+    implore of you to come to Mortlake, if you can, the moment this note
+    reaches you. I know how unreasonable and selfish this urgent request
+    will appear. But when I shall have told you all that has happened,
+    you will say, I know, that I could not have avoided imploring your
+    aid. Therefore, I entreat, distracted creature as I am, that you, my
+    beloved uncle, will come to aid and counsel me; and believe me when
+    I assure you that I am in extreme distress, and without, at this
+    moment, any other friend to help me.--Your very unhappy niece,
+
+    "ALICE."
+
+He read this short note over again.
+
+"No; it is not a sick lap-dog, or a saucy maid: there is some real
+trouble. Alice has, I think, more sense--I'll go at once. Reginald is
+always late, and I shall find them" (he looked at his watch)--"yes, I
+shall find them still up at Mortlake."
+
+So instantly he sent for a cab, and pulled on again a pair of boots,
+instead of the slippers he had donned, and before five minutes was
+driving at a rapid pace towards Mortlake.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XLIV.
+
+THE REASON OF ALICE'S NOTE.
+
+
+The long drive to Mortlake was expedited by promises to the cabman; for,
+in this acquisitive world, nothing for nothing is the ruling law of
+reciprocity. It was about half-past eleven o'clock when they reached the
+gate of the avenue; it was a still night, and a segment of the moon was
+high in the sky, faintly silvering the old fluted piers and urns, and
+the edges of the gigantic trees that overhung them. They were now
+driving up the avenue. How odd was the transition from the glare and
+hurly-burly of the town to the shadowy and silent woodlands on which
+this imperfect light fell so picturesquely.
+
+There were associations enough to induce melancholy as he drove through
+those neglected scenes, his playground in boyish days, where he, and
+Harry whom he loved, had passed so many of the happy days that precede
+school. He could hear his laugh floating still among the boughs of the
+familiar trees, he could see his handsome face smiling down through the
+leaves of the lordly chestnut that stood, at that moment, by the point
+of the avenue they were passing, like a forsaken old friend overlooking
+the way without a stir.
+
+"I'll follow this clue to the end," said David Arden. "I sha'n't make
+much of it, I fear; but if it ends, as others in the same inquiry have,
+in smoke, I shall, at least, have done my utmost, and may abandon the
+task with a good grace, and conclude that Heaven declines to favour the
+pursuit. Taken for all-in-all, he was the best of his generation, and
+the fittest to head the house. Something, I thought, was due, in mere
+respect to his memory. The coldness of Reginald insulted me. If a
+favourite dog had been poisoned, he would have made more exertion to
+commit the culprit. And once in pursuit of this dark shadow, how intense
+and direful grew the interest of the chase, and---- Here we are at the
+hall-door. Don't mind knocking, ring the bell," he said to the driver.
+
+He was himself at the threshold before the door was opened.
+
+"Can I see my brother?" he asked.
+
+"Sir Reginald is in the drawing-room--a small dinner-party to-day,
+Sir--Lady May Penrose, and Lady Mary Maypol, they returned to town in
+Lady May Penrose's carriage, Lord Wynderbroke remains, Sir, and two
+gentlemen; they are at present with Sir Reginald in the smoking-room."
+
+He learned that Miss Arden was alone in the small sitting-room, called
+the card-room. David Arden had walked through the vestibule, and into
+the capacious hall. The lights were all out, but one.
+
+"Well, I sha'n't disturb him. Is Miss Alice----"
+
+"Yes, Alice is here. It is so kind of you to come!" said a voice he well
+knew. "Here I am! Won't you come up to the drawing-room, Uncle David?"
+
+"So you want to consult Uncle David," he said, entering the room, and
+looking round. "In my father's time the other drawing-rooms used to be
+open; it is a handsome suite--very pretty rooms. But I think you have
+been crying, my poor little Alice. What on earth is all this about, my
+dear! Here I am, and it is past eleven; so we must come to the point, if
+I am to hear it to-night. What is the matter?"
+
+"My dear uncle, I have been so miserable!"
+
+"Well, what is it?" he said, taking a chair; "you have refused some
+fellow you like, or accepted some fellow you don't like. I am sure you
+are at the bottom of your own misery, foolish little creature! Girls
+generally are, I think, the architects of their own penitentiaries. Sit
+there, my dear, and if it is anything I can be of the least use in, you
+may count on my doing my utmost. Only you must tell me the whole case,
+and you mustn't colour it a bit."
+
+So they sat down on a sofa, and Miss Alice told him in her own way that,
+to her amazement, that day Lord Wynderbroke had made something very like
+a confession of his passion, and an offer of his hand, which this
+unsophisticated young lady was on the point of repelling, when Lady May
+entered the room, accompanied by her friend, Lady Mary Maypol; and, of
+course, the interesting situation, for that time, dissolved. About an
+hour after, Alice, who was shocked at the sudden distinction of which
+she had become the object, and extremely vexed at the interruption which
+had compelled her to suspend her reply, and very anxious for an
+opportunity to answer with decision, found that opportunity in a little
+saunter which she and the two ladies took in the grounds, accompanied by
+Lord Wynderbroke and Sir Reginald.
+
+When the opportunity came, with a common inconsistency, she rather
+shrank from the crisis; and a slight uncertainty as to the actual
+meaning of the noble lord, rendered her perplexity still more
+disagreeable. It occurred thus: the party had walked some little
+distance, and when Alice was addressed by her father--
+
+"Here is Wynderbroke, who says he has never seen my Roman inscription!
+You, Alice, must do the honours, for I daren't yet venture on the
+grass,"--he shrugged and shook his head over his foot--"and I will take
+charge of Lady Mary and Lady May, who want to see the Derbyshire
+thistles--they have grown so enormous under my gardener's care. You
+said, May, the other evening, that you would like to see them."
+
+Lady May acquiesced with true feminine sympathy with the baronet's
+stratagem, notwithstanding an imploring glance from Alice! and Lady Mary
+Maypol, exchanging a glance with Lady May, expressed equal interest in
+the Derbyshire thistles.
+
+"You will find the inscription at the door of the grotto, only twenty
+steps from this; it was dug up when my grandfather made the round pond,
+with the fountain in it. You'll find us in the garden."
+
+Lord Wynderbroke beamed an insufferable smile on Alice, and said
+something pretty that she did not hear. She knew perfectly what was
+coming, and although resolved, she was yet in a state of extreme
+confusion.
+
+Lord Wynderbroke was talking all the way as they approached the grotto;
+but not one word of his harmonious periods did she clearly hear. By the
+time they reached the little rocky arch under the evergreens, through
+the leaves of which the marble tablet and Roman inscription were
+visible, they had each totally forgotten the antiquarian object with
+which they had set out.
+
+Lord Wynderbroke came to a standstill, and then with a smiling precision
+and distinctness, and in accents that seemed, somehow, to ring through
+her head, he made a very explicit declaration and proposal; and during
+the entire delivery of this performance, which was neat and lucid rather
+than impassioned, she remained tongue-tied, listening as if to a tale
+told in a dream.
+
+She withdrew her hand hastily from Lord Wynderbroke's tender pressure,
+and the young lady with a sudden effort, replied collectedly enough, in
+a way greatly to amaze Lord Wynderbroke.
+
+When she had done, that nobleman was silent for some time, and stood in
+the same attitude of attention with which he had heard her. With a
+heightened colour he cleared his voice, and his answer, when it came,
+was dry and pettish. He thought with great deference, that he was,
+perhaps entitled to a little consideration, and it appeared to him that
+he had quite unaccountably misunderstood what had seemed the very
+distinct language of Sir Reginald. For the present he had no more to
+say. He hoped to explain more satisfactorily to Miss Arden, after he had
+himself had a few words of explanation, to which he thought he had a
+claim, from Sir Reginald; and he must confess that, after the lengths to
+which he had been induced to proceed, he was quite taken by surprise,
+and inexpressibly wounded by the tone which Miss Arden had adopted.
+
+Side by side, at a somewhat quick pace, Miss Arden with a heightened
+colour, and Lord Wynderbroke with his ears tingling, rejoined their
+friends.
+
+"Well, my dear child," said Uncle David, with a laugh, "if you have
+nothing worse to complain of, though I am very glad to see you, I think
+we might have put off our meeting till daylight."
+
+"Oh! but you have not heard half what has happened. He has behaved in
+the most cowardly, treacherous, ungentlemanlike way," she continued
+vehemently. "Papa sent for me, and I never saw him so angry in my life.
+Lord Wynderbroke has been making his unmanly complaints to him, and papa
+spoke so violently. And _he_, instead of going away, having had from me
+the answer which nothing on earth shall ever induce me to change, _he_
+remains here; and actually had the audacity to tell me, very nearly in
+so many words, that my decision went for nothing. I spoke to him quite
+frankly, but said nothing that was at all rude--nothing that could have
+made him the least angry. I implored of him to believe me that I never
+could change my mind; and I could not help crying, I was so agitated and
+wretched. But he seemed very much vexed, and simply said that he placed
+himself entirely in papa's hands. In fact, I've been utterly miserable
+and terrified, and I do not know how I can endure those terrible scenes
+with papa. The whole thing has come upon me so suddenly. Could you have
+imagined any gentleman capable of acting like Lord Wynderbroke--so
+selfish, cruel, and dastardly?" and with these words she burst into
+tears.
+
+"Do you mean to say that he won't take your refusal?" said her uncle,
+looking very angry.
+
+"That is what he says," she sobbed. "He had an opportunity only for a
+few words, and that was the purport of them; and I was so astounded, I
+could not reply; and, instead of going away, he remains here. Papa and
+he have arranged to prolong his visit; so I shall be teased and
+frightened, and I am so nervous and agitated; and it is such an
+outrage!"
+
+"Now, we must not lose our heads, my dear child; we must consult calmly.
+It seems you don't think it possible that you may come to like Lord
+Wynderbroke sufficiently to marry him."
+
+"I would rather _die_! If this goes on, I sha'n't stay here. I'd go and
+be a governess rather."
+
+"I think you might give my house a trial first," said Uncle David
+merrily; "but it is time to talk about that by-and-by. What does May
+Penrose think of it? She sometimes, I believe, on an emergency, lights
+on a sensible suggestion."
+
+"She had to return to town with Lady Mary, who dined here also; I did
+not know she was going until a few minutes before they left. I've been
+so _miserably_ unlucky! and I could not make an opportunity without its
+seeming so rude to Lady Mary, and I don't know her well enough to tell
+her; and, you have no idea, papa is so incensed, and so peremptory; and
+what _am_ I to do? Oh! dear uncle, think of something. I know you'll
+help me."
+
+"That I will," said the old gentleman. "But allowances are to be made
+for a poor old devil so much in love as Lord Wynderbroke."
+
+"I don't think he likes me now--he can't like me," said Alice. "But he
+is angry. It is simply pride and vanity. From something papa said, I am
+sure of it, Lord Wynderbroke has been telling his friends, and speaking,
+I fancy, as if everything was arranged, and he never anticipated that I
+could have any mind of my own; and I suppose he thinks he would be
+laughed at, and so I am to undergo a persecution, and he won't hear of
+anything but what he pleases; and papa is determined to accomplish it.
+And, oh! what _am_ I to do?"
+
+"I'll tell you, but you must do exactly as I bid you. Who's there?" he
+said suddenly, as Alice's maid opened the door.
+
+"Oh! I beg pardon--Miss Alice, please," she said, dropping a curtsey and
+drawing back.
+
+"Don't go," said Uncle David, "we shall want you. What's the matter?"
+
+"Sir Reginald has been took bad with his foot again, please, Miss."
+
+"Nothing serious?" said Uncle David.
+
+"Only pain, please, Sir, in the same place."
+
+"All the better it should fix itself well in his foot. You need not be
+uneasy about it, Alice. You and your maid must be in my cab, which is at
+the hall door, in five minutes. Take leave of no one, and don't waste
+time over finery; just put a few things up, and take your dressing-case;
+and you and your maid are coming to town with me. Is my brother in the
+drawing-room?"
+
+"No, Sir, please; he is in his own room."
+
+"Are the gentlemen who dined still here?"
+
+"Two left, Sir, when Sir Reginald took ill; but Lord Wynderbroke
+remains."
+
+"Oh! and where is he?"
+
+"Sir Reginald sent for him, please, Sir--just as I came up--to his
+room."
+
+"Very good, then I shall find them both together. Now, Alice, I must
+find you and your maid in the cab in five minutes. I shall get your
+leave from Reginald, and you order the fellow to drive down to the
+little church gate in the village close by, and I'll walk after and join
+you there in a few minutes. Lose no time."
+
+With this parting charge, Uncle David ran down the stairs, and met Lord
+Wynderbroke at the foot of them, returning from his visit of charity to
+Sir Reginald's room.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XLV.
+
+COLLISION.
+
+
+"Lord Wynderbroke!" said Uncle David, and bowed rather ceremoniously.
+
+Lord Wynderbroke, a little surprised, extended two fingers and said,
+"How d'ye do, Mr. Arden?" and smiled drily, and then seemed disposed to
+pass on.
+
+"I beg your pardon, Lord Wynderbroke," said David Arden, "but would you
+mind giving me a few minutes? I have something you may think a little
+important to say, and if you will allow me, I'll say it in this
+room"--he indicated the half-open door of the dining-room, in which
+there was still some light--"I shall not detain you long."
+
+The urbane and smiling peer looked on him for a moment--rather
+darkly--with a shrewd eye; and he said, still smiling,--
+
+"Certainly, Mr. Arden; but at this hour, and being about to write a
+note, you will see that I have very little time indeed--I'm very sorry."
+
+He was speaking stiffly, and any one might have seen that he suspected
+nothing very agreeable as the result of Mr. Arden's communication.
+
+When they had got into the dining-room, and the door was closed, Lord
+Wynderbroke, with his head a little high, invited Mr. Arden to proceed.
+
+"Then, as you are in a hurry, you'll excuse my going direct to the
+point. I've come here in consequence of a note that reached me about an
+hour ago, informing me that my niece, Alice Arden, has suffered a great
+deal of annoyance. You know, of course, to what I refer?"
+
+"I should extremely regret that the young lady, your niece, should
+suffer the least vexation, from any cause; but I should have fancied
+that her happiness might be more naturally confided to the keeping of
+her father, than of a relation residing in a different house, and by no
+means so nearly interested in consulting it."
+
+"I see, Lord Wynderbroke, that I must address you very plainly, and even
+coarsely. My brother Reginald does not consult her happiness in this
+matter, but merely his own ideas of a desirable family connection. She
+is really quite miserable; she has unalterably made up her mind. You'll
+not induce her to change it. There is no chance of that. But by
+permitting my brother to exercise a pressure in favour of your suit----"
+
+"You'll excuse my interrupting for a moment, to say that there is, and
+can be, nothing but the perfectly legitimate influence of a parent.
+_Pressure_, there is none--none in the world, Sir; although I am not,
+like you, Mr. Arden, a relation--and a very near one--of Sir Reginald
+Arden's, I think I can undertake to say that he is quite incapable of
+exercising what you call a pressure upon the young lady his daughter;
+and I have to beg that you will be so good as to spare me the pain of
+hearing that term employed, as you have just now employed it--or _at
+all_, Sir, in connection with me. I take the liberty of insisting upon
+that, _peremptorily_."
+
+Mr. Arden bowed, and went on:
+
+"And when the young lady distinctly declines the honour you propose, you
+persist in paying your addresses, as though her answer meant just
+nothing."
+
+"I don't quite know, Sir, why I've listened so long to this kind of
+thing from you; you have no right on earth, Sir, to address that sort of
+thing to me. How dare you talk to me, Sir, in that--a--a--audacious tone
+upon my private affairs and conduct?"
+
+Uncle David was a little fiery, and answered, holding his head high,--
+
+"What I have to say is short and clear. I don't care twopence about your
+affairs, or your conduct, but I do very much care about my niece's
+happiness; and if you any longer decline to take the answer she has
+given you, and continue to cause her the slightest trouble, I'll make it
+a personal matter with you. Good-_night_!" he added, with an inflamed
+visage, and a stamp on the floor, thundering his valediction. And forth
+he went to pay his brief visit to his brother--not caring twopence, as
+he said, what Lord Wynderbroke thought of him.
+
+Sir Reginald had got into his dressing-gown. He was not now in any pain
+to speak of, and expressed great surprise at the sudden appearance of
+his brother.
+
+"You'll take something, won't you?"
+
+"Nothing, thanks," answered David. "I came to beg a favour."
+
+"Oh! did you? You find me very poorly," said the baronet, in a tone that
+seemed to imply, "You might easily kill me, by imposing the least
+trouble just now."
+
+"You'll be all the better, Reginald, for this little attack; it is so
+comfortably established in your foot."
+
+"Comfortably! I wish you felt it," said Sir Reginald, sharply; "and it's
+confoundedly late. Why didn't you come to dinner?"
+
+David laughed good-humouredly.
+
+"You forgot, I think, to ask me," said he.
+
+"Well, well, you know there is always a chair and a glass for you; but
+won't it do to talk about any cursed thing you wish to-morrow? I--I
+never, by any chance, hear anything agreeable. I have been tortured out
+of my wits and senses all day long by a tissue of pig-headed,
+indescribable frenzy. I vow to Heaven there's a conspiracy to drive me
+into a mad-house, or into my grave; and I declare to my Maker, I wish
+the first time I'm asleep, some fellow would come in and blow my brains
+out on the pillow."
+
+"I don't know an easier death," said David; and his brother, who meant
+it to be terrific, did not pretend to hear him. "I have only a word to
+say," he continued, "a request you have never refused to other friends,
+and, in fact, dear Reginald, I ventured to take it for granted you would
+not refuse me; so I have taken Alice into town, to make me a little
+visit of a day or two."
+
+"You haven't taken Alice--you don't mean--she's not gone?" exclaimed the
+baronet, sitting up with a sudden perpendicularity, and staring at his
+brother as if his eyes were about to leap from their sockets.
+
+"I'll take the best care of her. Yes, she _is_ gone," said David.
+
+"But my dear, excellent, worthy--why, curse you, David, you can't
+possibly have done anything so clumsy! Why, you forgot that Wynderbroke
+is here; how on earth am I to entertain Wynderbroke without her?"
+
+"Why, it is exactly because Lord Wynderbroke is here, that I thought it
+the best time for her to make me a visit."
+
+"I protest to Heaven, David, I believe you're deranged! Do you the least
+know what you are saying?"
+
+"Perfectly. Now, my dear Reginald, let us look at the matter quietly.
+The girl does not like him; she would not marry him, and never will; she
+has grown to hate him; his own conduct has made her despise and detest
+him; and she's not the kind of girl who would marry for a mere title.
+She has unalterably made up her mind; and these are not times when you
+can lock a young lady into her room, and starve her into compliance; and
+Alice is a spirited girl--all the women of our family were. You're no
+goose like Wynderbroke--you only need to know that the girl has quite
+made up her mind, or her heart, or her hatred, or whatever it is, and
+she won't marry him. It is as well he should know it at first, as at
+last; and I don't think, if he were a gentleman, peer though he be, he
+would have been in this house to-night. He counted on his title: he was
+too sure. I am very proud of Alice. And now he can't bear the
+mortification--having, like a fool, disclosed his suit to others before
+it had succeeded--of letting the world know he has been refused; and to
+this petty vanity he would sacrifice Alice, and prevail on you, if he
+could, to bully her into accepting him, a plan in which, if he
+perseveres, I have told him he shall, besides failing ridiculously, give
+me a meeting; for I will make it a personal quarrel with him."
+
+Sir Reginald sat in his chair, looking very white and wicked, with his
+eyes gleaming fire on his brother. He opened his mouth once or twice, to
+speak, but only drew a short breath at each attempt.
+
+David Arden rather wondered that his brother took all this so quietly.
+If he had observed him a little more closely, he would have seen that
+his hands were trembling, and perceived also that he had tried
+repeatedly to speak, and that either voice or articulation failed him.
+On a sudden he recovered, and regardless of his gout started to his
+feet, and limped along the floor, exclaiming,--
+
+"Help us--help us--God help us! What's this? My--my--oh, my God! It's
+very bad!" He was stumping round and round the table, near which he had
+sat, and restlessly shoving the pamphlets and books hither and thither
+as he went. "What have I done to earn this curse?--was ever mortal so
+pursued? The last thing, this was; now all's gone--quite gone--it's
+over, quite. They've done it--they've done it. _Bravo! bravi tutti!
+brava!_ All--all, and everything gone! To think of her--only to think of
+her! She was my pet." (And in his bleak, trembling voice, he cried a
+horrid curse at her.) "I tell you," he screamed, dashing his hand on the
+table, at the other end of which he had arrested his monotonous shuffle
+round it, when his brother caught suddenly his vacant eye, "you think,
+because I'm down in the world, and you are prosperous, that you can do
+as you like. If I was where I should be, you daren't. I'll have her
+back, Sir. I'll have the police with you. I'll--I'll indict you--it's a
+police-office affair. They'll take her through the streets. Where's the
+wretch like her? I charge her--let them take her by the shoulder. And my
+son, Richard--to think of him!--the cursed puppy!--his _post obit_! One
+foot in the grave, have I? No, I'm not so near smoked out as you take
+me--I've a long time for it--I've a long life. I'll live to see him
+broken--without a coat to his back--you villanous, swindling dandy, and
+I'll----"
+
+His voice got husky, and he struck his thin fist on the table, and clung
+to it, and the room was suddenly silent.
+
+David Arden rang the bell violently, and got his arm round his brother,
+who shook himself feebly, and shrugged, as if he disdained and hated
+that support.
+
+In came Crozier, who looked aghast, but wheeled his easy-chair close to
+where he stood, and between them they got him into it, trembling from
+head to foot.
+
+Martha Tansey came in and lent her aid, and beckoning her to the door,
+David Arden asked her if she thought him very ill.
+
+"I 'a' seen him just so a dozen times over. He'll be well enough, soon,
+and if ye knew him as weel in they takins, ye'd ho'd wi' me, there's
+nothing more than common in't; he's a bit teathy and short-waisted, and
+always was, and that's how he works himself into them fits."
+
+So spoke Tansey, into whose talk, in moments of excitement, returned
+something of her old north-country dialect.
+
+"Well, so he was, vexed with me, as with other people, and he has
+over-excited himself; but as he has this little gout about him, I may as
+well send out his doctor as I return."
+
+This little conversation took place outside Sir Reginald's room-door,
+which David did not care to re-enter, as his brother might have again
+become furious on seeing him. So he took his leave of Martha Tansey, and
+their whispered dialogue ended. One or two sighs and groans showed that
+Sir Reginald's energies were returning. David Arden walked quickly
+across the vast hall, in which now burned duskily but a single candle,
+and let himself out into the clear, cold night; and as he walked down
+the broad avenue he congratulated himself on having cut the Gordian
+knot, and liberated his niece.
+
+It was a pleasant walk by the narrow road, with its lofty groining of
+foliage, down to the village outpost of Islington, where, under the
+shadow of the old church-spire, he found his cab waiting, with Alice and
+her maid in it.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XLVI.
+
+AN UNKNOWN FRIEND.
+
+
+As they drove into town, Uncle David was thinking how awkward it would
+be if Sir Reginald should have recovered his activity, and dispatched a
+messenger to recall Alice, and await their arrival at his door. Well, he
+did not want a quarrel; he hated a fracas; but he would not send Alice
+back till next morning, come what might; and then he would return with
+her, and see Lord Wynderbroke again, and take measures to compel an
+immediate renunciation of his suit. As for Reginald, he would find
+arguments to reconcile him to the disappointment. At all events, Alice
+had thrown herself upon his protection, and he would not surrender her
+except on terms.
+
+Uncle David was silent, having all this matter to ruminate upon. He left
+a pencilled line for Sir Henry Margate, his brother's physician, and
+then drove on towards home.
+
+Turning into Saint James's Street, Alice saw her brother standing at the
+side of a crossing, with a great-coat and a white muffler on, the air
+being sharp. A couple of carriages drawn up near the pavement, and the
+passing of two or three others on the outside, for a moment checked
+their progress, and Alice, had not the window been up, could have spoken
+to him as they passed. He did not see them, but the light of a lamp was
+on his face, and she was shocked to see how ill he looked.
+
+"There is Dick," she said, touching her uncle's arm, "looking so
+miserable! Shall we speak to him!"
+
+"No, dear, never mind him--he's well enough." David Arden peeped at his
+nephew as they passed. "He is beginning to take an interest in what
+really concerns him."
+
+She looked at her uncle, not understanding his meaning.
+
+"We can talk of it another time, dear," he added with a cautionary
+glance at the maid, who sat in the corner at the other side.
+
+Richard Arden was on his way to the place where he meant to recover his
+losses. He had been playing deep at Colonel Marston's lodgings, but not
+yet luckily. He thought he had used his credit there as far as he could
+successfully press it.
+
+The polite young men who had their supper there that night, and played
+after he left till nearly five o'clock in the morning, knew perfectly
+what he had lost at the Derby; but they did not know how perilously, on
+the whole, he was already involved. Was Richard Arden, who had lost
+nearly seven hundred pounds at Colonel Marston's little gathering,
+though he had not paid them yet, now quite desperate? By no means. It is
+true he had, while Vandeleur was out, made an excursion to the City,
+and, on rather hard terms, secured a loan of three hundred pounds--a
+trifle which, if luck favoured, might grow to a fortune; but which, if
+it proved contrary, half an hour would see out.
+
+He had locked this up in his desk, as a reserve for a theatre quite
+different from Marston's little party; and on his way to that more
+public and also more secret haunt, he had called at his lodgings for it.
+It was not that small deposit that cheered him, but a curious and
+unexpected little note which he found there. It presented by no means a
+gentlemanlike exterior. The hand was a round clerk's-hand, with
+flourishing capitals, on an oblong blue envelope, with a vulgar little
+device. A dun, he took it to be; and he was not immediately relieved
+when he read at the foot of it, "Levi." Then he glanced to the top, and
+read, "DEAR SIR."
+
+This easy form of address he read with proper disdain.
+
+    "I am instructed by a most respectable party who is desirous to
+    assist you, to the figure of £1,000 or upwards, at nominal
+    discounts, to meet you and ascertain your wishes thereupon, if
+    possible to-night, lest you should suffer inconvenience.
+
+    "Yours truly,
+    "ISRAEL LEVI.
+
+    "P.S.--In furtherance of the above, I shall be at Dignum's Divan,
+    Strand, from 11 P.M. to-night to 1 A.M."
+
+Here then, at last, was a sail in sight!
+
+With this note in his pocket, he walked direct to the place of
+rendezvous, in the Strand. It was on his way that, unseen by him, his
+sister and his uncle had observed him, on their drive to David Arden's
+house.
+
+There were two friends only whom he strongly suspected of this very
+well-timed interposition--there was Lady May Penrose, and there was
+Uncle David. Lady May was rich, and quite capable of a generous
+sacrifice for him. Uncle David, also rich, would like to show an
+intimidating front, as he had done, but would hardly like to see him go
+to the wall. There was, I must confess, a trifling bill due to Mr.
+Longcluse, who had kindly got or given him cash for it. It was something
+less than a hundred pounds--a mere nothing; but in their altered
+relations, it would not do to permit any miscarriage of this particular
+bill. He might have risked it in the frenzy of play. But to stoop to ask
+quarter from Longcluse was more than his pride could endure. No; nor
+would the humiliation avail to arrest the consequences of his neglect.
+In the general uneasiness and horror of his situation, this little point
+was itself a centre of torture, and now his unknown friend had come to
+the rescue, and in the golden sunshine of his promise it, like a hundred
+minor troubles, was dissolving.
+
+In Pall Mall he jumped into a cab, feeling strangely like himself again.
+The lights, the clubs, the well-known perspectives, the stars above him,
+and the gliding vehicles and figures that still peopled the streets, had
+recovered their old cheery look; he was again in the upper world, and
+his dream of misery had broken up and melted. Under the great coloured
+lamp, yellow, crimson, and blue, that overhung the pavement, emblazoned
+on every side with transparent arabesques, and in gorgeous capitals
+proclaiming to all whom it might concern "DIGNUM'S DIVAN," he dismissed
+his cab, took his counter in the cigar shop, and entered the great rooms
+beyond. The first of these, as many of my readers remember, was as large
+as a good-sized Methodist Chapel; and five billiard-tables, under a
+blaze of gas, kept the many-coloured balls rolling, and the marker busy,
+calling "Blue on brown, and pink your player," and so forth; and
+gentlemen young and old, Christians and Hebrews, in their shirt-sleeves,
+picked up shillings when they took "lives," or knocked the butts of
+their cues fiercely on the floor when they unexpectedly lost them.
+
+Among a very motley crowd, Richard Arden slowly sauntering through the
+room found Mr. Levi, whose appearance he already knew, having once or
+twice had occasion to consult him financially. His play was over for the
+night. The slim little Jew, with black curly head, large fierce black
+eyes, and sullen mouth, stood with his hands in his pockets, gaping
+luridly over the table where he had just, he observed to his friend
+Isaac Blumer, who did not care if he was hanged, "losht sheven pound
+sheventeen, ash I'm a shinner!"
+
+Mr. Levi saw Richard Arden approaching, and smiled on him with his wide
+show of white fangs. Richard Arden approached Mr. Levi with a grave and
+haughty face. Here, to be sure, was nothing but what Horace Walpole used
+to call "the mob." Not a human being whom he knew was in the room; still
+he would have preferred seeing Mr. Levi at his office; and the audacity
+of his presuming to grin in that familiar fashion! He would have liked
+to fling one of the billiard-balls in his teeth. In a freezing tone, and
+with his head high, he said,--
+
+"I think you are Mr. Levi."
+
+"The shame," responded Levi, still smiling; "and 'ow ish Mr. Harden
+thish evening?"
+
+"I had a note from you," said Arden, passing by Mr. Levi's polite
+inquiry, "and I should like to know if any of that money you spoke of
+may be made available to-night."
+
+"Every shtiver," replied the Jew cheerfully.
+
+"I can have it all? Well, this is rather a noisy place," hesitated
+Richard Arden, looking around him.
+
+"I can get into Mishter Dignum's book-offish here, Mr. Harden, and it
+won't take a moment. I haven't notes, but I'll give you our cheques, and
+there'sh no place in town they won't go down as slick as gold. I'll
+fetch you to where there's pen and ink."
+
+"Do so," said he.
+
+In a very small room, where burned a single jet of gas, Mr. Arden signed
+a promissory note for, £1,012 10s., for which Mr. Levi handed him
+cheques of his firm for £1,000.
+
+Having exchanged these securities, Richard Arden said--
+
+"I wish to put one or two questions to you, Mr. Levi." He glanced at a
+clerk who was making "tots" from a huge folio before him, on a slip of
+paper, and transferring them to a small book, with great industry.
+
+Levi understood him and beckoned in silence, and when they both stood in
+the passage he said--
+
+"If you want a word private with me, Mr. Harden, where there'sh no one
+can shee us, you'll be as private as the deshert of Harabia if you walk
+round the corner of the shtreet."
+
+Arden nodded, and walked out into the Strand, accompanied by Mr. Levi.
+They turned to the left, and a few steps brought them to the corner of
+Cecil Street. The street widens a little after you pass its narrow
+entrance. It was still enough to justify Mr. Levi's sublime comparison.
+The moon shone mistily on the river, which was dotted and streaked, at
+its further edge with occasional red lights from windows, relieved by
+the black reflected outline of the building which made their
+back-ground. At the foot of the street, at that time, stood a clumsy
+rail, and Richard Arden leaned his arm on this, as he talked to the Jew,
+who had pulled his short cloak about him; and in the faint light he
+could not discern his features, near as he stood, except, now and then,
+his white eye-balls, faintly, as he turned, or his teeth when he smiled.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XLVII.
+
+BY THE RIVER.
+
+
+"You mentioned, Mr. Levi, in your note, that you were instructed, by
+some person who takes an interest in me, to open this business," said
+Richard Arden, in a more conciliatory tone. "Will your instructions
+permit you to tell me who that person is?"
+
+"No, no," drawled Mr. Levi, with a slow shake of his head; "I declare to
+you sholemnly, Mr. Harden, I couldn't. I'm employed by a third party,
+and though I may make a tolerable near guess who's firsht fiddle in the
+bishness, I can't shay nothin'."
+
+"Surely you can say this--it is hardly a question, I am so sure of
+it--is the friend who lends this money a gentleman?"
+
+"I think the pershon as makesh the advanshe is a bit of a shwell. There,
+now, that'sh enough."
+
+"But I said a _gentleman_," persisted Arden.
+
+"You mean to ask, hashn't a lady got nothing to do with it?"
+
+"Well, suppose I do?"
+
+Mr. Levi shook his head slowly, and all his white teeth showed dimly, as
+he answered with an unctuous significance that tempted Arden strongly to
+pitch him into the river.
+
+"We puts the ladiesh first; ladiesh and shentlemen, that's the way it
+goes at the theaytre; if a good-looking chap's a bit in a fix, there'sh
+no one like a lady to pull him through."
+
+"I really want to know," said Richard Arden, with difficulty restraining
+his fury. "I have some relations who are likely enough to give me a lift
+of this kind; some _are_ ladies, and some gentlemen, and I have a right
+to know to whom I owe this money."
+
+"To our firm; who elshe? We have took your paper, and you have our
+cheques on Childs'."
+
+"_Your_ firm lend money at five per cent.!" said Arden with contempt.
+"You forget, Mr. Levi, you mentioned in your note, distinctly, that you
+act for another person. Who _is_ that principal for whom you act?"
+
+"I don't know."
+
+"Come, Mr. Levi! you are no simpleton; you may as well tell me--no one
+shall be a bit the wiser--for I _will_ know."
+
+"Azh I'm a shinner--as I hope to be shaved----" began Mr. Levi.
+
+"It won't do--you may just as well tell me--out with it!"
+
+"Well, here now; I _don't_ know, but if I did, upon my shoul, I wouldn't
+tell you."
+
+"It is pleasant to meet with so much sensitive honour, Mr. Levi," said
+Richard Arden very scornfully. "I have nothing particular to say, only
+that your firm were mistaken, a little time ago, when they thought that
+I was without resources; I've friends, you now perceive, who only need
+to learn that I want money, to volunteer assistance. Have you anything
+more to say?"
+
+Richard Arden saw the little Jew's fine fangs again displayed in the
+faint light, as he thus spoke; but it was only prudent to keep his
+temper with this lucky intervenient.
+
+"I have nothing to shay, Mr. Harden, only there'sh more where that came
+from, and I may tell you sho, for that'sh no shecret. But don't you go
+too fasht, young gentleman--not that you won't get it--but don't you go
+too fasht."
+
+"If I should ever ask your advice, it will be upon other things. I'm
+giving the lender as good security as I have given to any one else. I
+don't see any great wonder in the matter. Good-night," he said
+haughtily, not taking the trouble to look over his shoulder as he walked
+away.
+
+"Good-night," responded Mr. Levi, taking one of Dignum's cigars from his
+waistcoat-pocket, and preparing to light it with a lazy grin, as he
+watched the retreating figure lessening in the perspective of the
+street, "and take care of yourshelf for my shake, _do_, and don't you be
+lettin' all them fine women be throwin' their fortunes like that into
+your 'at, and bringin' themshelves to the workus, for love of your
+pretty fashe--poor, dear, love-sick little fools! There you go, right
+off to Mallet and Turner's, I dareshay, and good luck attend you, for a
+reglar lady-killin', 'ansome, sweet-spoken, broken-down jackass!"
+
+At this period of his valediction the vesuvian was applied to his cigar,
+and Richard Arden, turning the far corner of the street, escaped the
+remainder of his irony, as the Jew, with his hands in his pockets,
+sauntered up its quiet pavement, in the direction in which Richard Arden
+had just disappeared. It seemed to that young gentleman that his
+supplies, no less than thirteen hundred pounds, would all but command
+the luck of which, as his spirits rose, he began to feel confident.
+"Fellows," he thought, "who have gone in with less than fifty, have come
+out, to my knowledge, with thousands; and if less than fifty could do
+that, what might not be expected from thirteen hundred?"
+
+He picked up a cab. Never did lover fly more impatiently to the feet of
+his mistress than Richard Arden did, that night, to the shrine of the
+goddess whom he worshipped.
+
+The muttered scoffs, the dark fiery gaze, the glimmering teeth of this
+mocking, malicious little Jew, represented an influence that followed
+Richard Arden that night.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XLVIII.
+
+SUDDEN NEWS.
+
+
+What is luck? Is there such an influence? What type of mind rejects
+altogether, and consistently, this law or power? Call it by what name
+you will, fate or fortune, did not Napoleon, the man of death and of
+action, and did not Swedenborg, the man of quietude and visions,
+acknowledge it? Where is the successful gamester who does not "back his
+luck," when once it has declared itself, and bow before the storms of
+fortune when they in turn have set in? I take Napoleon and
+Swedenborg--the man of this visible world, and the man of the invisible
+world--as the representatives of extreme types of mind. People who have
+looked into Swedenborg's works will remember curious passages on the
+subject, and find more dogmatical, and less metaphysical admissions in
+Napoleon's conversations everywhere.
+
+In corroboration of this theory, that luck is an element, with its
+floods and ebbs, against which it is fatuity to contend, was the result
+of Richard Arden's play.
+
+Before half-past two, he had lost every guinea of his treasure. He had
+been drinking champagne. He was flushed, dismal, profoundly angry. Hot
+and headachy, he was ready to choke with gall. There was a big,
+red-headed, vulgar fellow beside him, with a broad-brimmed white hat,
+who was stuffing his pockets and piling the table before him, as though
+he had found the secret of an "open sesame," and was helping himself
+from the sacks of the Forty Thieves.
+
+When Richard had lost his last pound, he would have liked to smash the
+gas-lamps and windows, and the white hat and the red head in it, and
+roar the blasphemy that rose to his lips. But men can't afford to make
+themselves ridiculous, and as he turned about to make his unnoticed
+exit, he saw the little Jew, munching a sandwich, with a glass of
+champagne beside him.
+
+"I say," said Richard Arden, walking up to the little man, whose big
+mouth was full of sandwich, and whose fierce black eyes encountered his
+instantaneously, "you don't happen to have a little more, on the same
+terms, about you?"
+
+Mr. Levi waited to bolt his sandwich, and then swallow down his
+champagne.
+
+"Shave me!" exclaimed he, when this was done. "The thoushand gone! every
+rag! and" (glancing at his watch) "only two twenty-five! Won't it be
+rayther young, though, backin' such a run o' bad luck, and throwin' good
+money after bad, Mr. Harden?"
+
+"That's my affair, I fancy; what I want to know is whether you have got
+a few hundreds more, on the same terms--I mean, from the same lender.
+Hang it, say yes or no--can't you?"
+
+"Well, Mr. Harden, there's five hundred more--but 'twasn't expected
+you'd a' drew it so soon. How much do you say, Mr. Harden?"
+
+"I'll take it all," said Richard Arden. "I wish I could have it without
+these blackguards seeing."
+
+"They don't care, blesh ye! if you got it from the old boy himself. That
+_is_ a rum un!" There were pen and ink on a small table beside the wall,
+at which Mr. Levi began rapidly to fill in the blanks of a bill of
+exchange. "Why, there's not one o' them, almost, but takes a hundred now
+and then from me, when they runs out a bit too fast. You'd better shay
+one month."
+
+"Say two, like the other, and don't keep me waiting."
+
+"You'd better shay one--your friend will think you're going a bit too
+quick to the devil. Remember, as your proverb shays, 'taint the thing to
+kill the gooshe that laysh the golden eggs--shay one month."
+
+Levi's large black eye was fixed on him, and he added, "If you want it
+pushed on a bit when it comes due, there won't be no great trouble about
+it, I calculate."
+
+Richard Arden looked at the large fierce eyes that were silently fixed
+on him: one of those eyes winked solemnly and significantly.
+
+"Well, what way you like, only be quick," said Richard Arden.
+
+His new sheaf of cheques were quickly turned into counters; and, after
+various fluctuations, these counters followed the rest, and in the grey
+morning he left that haunt jaded and savage, with just fifteen pounds in
+his pocket, the wreck of the large sum which he had borrowed to restore
+his fortunes.
+
+It needs some little time to enable a man, who has sustained such a
+shock as Richard Arden had, to collect his thoughts and define the
+magnitude of his calamity. He let himself in by a latch-key: the grey
+light was streaming through the shutters, and turning the chintz pattern
+of his window-curtains here and there, in streaks, into transparencies.
+He went into his room and swallowed nearly a tumbler of brandy, then
+threw off his clothes, drank some more, and fell into a flushed stupor,
+rather than a sleep, and lay for hours as still as any dead man on the
+field of battle.
+
+Some four hours of this lethargy, and he became conscious, at intervals,
+of a sound of footsteps in his room. The shutters were still closed. He
+thought he heard a voice say, "Master Richard!" but he was too drowsy,
+still, to rouse himself.
+
+At length a hand was laid upon him, and a voice that was familiar to his
+ear repeated twice over, more urgently, "Master Richard! Master
+Richard!" He was now awake: very dimly, by his bedside, he saw a figure
+standing. Again he heard the same words, and wondered, for a few
+seconds, where he was.
+
+"That's Crozier talking," said Richard.
+
+"Yes, Sir," said Crozier, in a low tone; "I'm here half-an-hour, Sir,
+waiting till you should wake."
+
+"Let in some light; I can't see you."
+
+Crozier opened half the window-shutter, and drew the curtain.
+
+"Are ye ailin', Master Richard--are ye bad, Sir?"
+
+"Ailing--yes, I'm bad enough, as you say--I'm miserable. I don't know
+where to turn or what to do. Hold my coat while I count what's in the
+pocket. If my father, the old scoundrel----"
+
+"Master Richard, don't ye say the like o' that no more; all's over, this
+morning, wi' the old master--Sir Reginald's dead, Sir," said the old
+follower, sternly.
+
+"Good God!" cried Richard, starting up in his bed and staring at old
+Crozier with a frightened look.
+
+"Ay, Sir," said the old servant, in a low stern tone, "he's gone at
+last: he was took just a quarter past five this mornin', by the clock at
+Mortlake, about four minutes before St. Paul's chimed the quarter. The
+wind being southerly, we heard the chimes. We thought he was all right,
+and I did not leave him until half-past twelve o'clock, having given him
+his drops, and waited till he went asleep. It was about three he rang
+his bell, and in I goes that minute, and finds him sitting up in his
+bed, talking quite silly-like about old Wainbridge, the groom, that's
+dead and buried, away in Skarkwynd Churchyard, these thirty year."
+
+Crozier paused here. He had been crying hours ago, and his eyes and nose
+still showed evidences of that unbecoming weakness. Perhaps he expected
+Richard, now Sir Richard Arden, to say something, but nothing came.
+
+"'Tis a change, Sir, and I feel a bit queer; and as I was sayin', when I
+went in, 'twas in his head he saw Tom Wainbridge leadin' a horse saddled
+and all into the room, and standin' by the side of his bed, with the
+bridle in his hand, and holdin' the stirrup for him to mount. 'And what
+the devil brings Wainbridge here, when he has his business to mind in
+Yorkshire? and where could he find a horse like that beast? He's waiting
+for me; I can hear the roarin' brute, and I see Tom's parchment face at
+the door--_there_,' he'd say, 'and _there_--where are your eyes,
+Crozier, can't you see, man? Don't be afraid--can't you look--and don't
+you hear him? Wainbridge's old nonsense.' And he'd laugh a bit to
+himself every now and again, and then he'd whimper to me, looking a bit
+frightened, 'Get him away, Crozier, will you? He's annoying me, he'll
+have me out,' and this sort o' talk he went on wi' for full twenty
+minutes. I rang the bell to Mrs. Tansey's room, and when she was come we
+agreed to send in the brougham for the doctor. I think he was a bit
+wrong i' the garrets, and we were both afraid to let it be no longer."
+
+Crozier paused for a moment, and shook his head.
+
+"We thought he was goin' asleep, but he wasn't. His eyes was half shut,
+and his shoulders against the pillows, and Mrs. Tansey was drawin' the
+eider-down coverlet over his feet, softly, when all on a sudden--I
+thought he was laughin'--a noise like a little flyrin' laugh, and then a
+long, frightful yellock, that would make your heart tremble, and awa'
+wi' him into one o' them fits, and so from one into another, until when
+the doctor came he said he was in an apoplexy; and so, at just a quarter
+past five the auld master departed. And I came in to tell you, Sir; and
+have you any orders to give me, Master Richard? and I'm going on, I take
+it you'd wish me, to your uncle, Mr. David, and little Miss Alice, that
+han't heard nout o' the matter yet."
+
+"Yes, Crozier--go," said Richard Arden, staring on him as if his soul
+was in his eyes; and, after a pause, with an effort, he added--"I'll
+call there as I go on to Mortlake; tell them I'll see them on my way."
+
+When Crozier was gone, Richard Arden got up, threw his dressing-gown
+about him, and sat on the side of his bed, feeling very faint. A sudden
+gush of tears relieved the strange paroxysm. Then come other emotions
+less unselfish. He dressed hastily. He was too much excited to make a
+breakfast. He drank a cup of coffee, and drove to Uncle David's house.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XLIX.
+
+VOWS FOR THE FUTURE.
+
+
+As he drove to his uncle's house, he was tumbling over facts and
+figures, in the endeavour to arrive at some conclusion as to how he
+stood in the balance-sheet that must now be worked out. What a thing
+that _post-obit_ had turned out! Those cursed Jews who had dealt with
+him must have known ever so much more about his poor father's health
+than he did. They are such fellows to worm out the secrets of a
+family--all through one's own servants, and doctors, and apothecaries.
+The spies! They stick at nothing--such liars! How they pretended to wish
+to be off! What torture they kept him in! How they talked of the old
+man's nervous fibre, and pretended to think he would live for twenty
+years to come!
+
+"And the deed was not six weeks signed when I found out he had those
+epileptic fits, and they knew it, the wretches!--and so I've been hit
+for that huge sum of money. And there is interest, two years' nearly, on
+that other charge, and that swindle that half ruined me on the Derby.
+And there are those bills that Levi has got, but that is only fifteen
+hundred, and I can manage that any time, and a few other trifles."
+
+And he thought what yeoman's service Longcluse might and _would_ have
+rendered him in this situation. How translucent the whole opaque
+complexity would have become in a hour or two, and at what easy interest
+he would have procured him funds to adjust these complications! But
+here, too, fortune had dealt maliciously. What a piece of cross-grained
+luck that Longcluse should have chosen to fall in love with Alice! And
+now they two had exchanged, not shots, but insults, harder to forgive.
+And that officious fool, Vandeleur, had laid him open to a more direct
+and humiliating affront than had before befallen him. Henceforward,
+between him and Longcluse no reconciliation was possible. Fiery and
+proud by nature was this Richard Arden, and resentful. In Yorkshire the
+family had been accounted a vindictive race. I don't know. I have only
+to do with those inheritors of the name who figure in this story.
+
+There remained an able accountant and influential man on 'Change, on
+whose services he might implicitly reckon--his uncle, David Arden. But
+he was separated from him by the undefinable chasm of years--the want of
+sympathy, the sense of authority. He would take not only the management
+of this financial adjustment, but the carriage of the future of this
+young, handsome, full-blooded fellow, who had certainly no wish to take
+unto himself a Mentor.
+
+Here have been projected on this page, as in the disk of an oxy-hydrogen
+microscope, some of the small and active thoughts that swarmed almost
+unsuspected in Richard Arden's mind. But it would be injustice to Sir
+Richard Arden (we may as well let him enjoy at once the title which
+stately Death has just presented him with--it seems to me a mocking
+obeisance) to pretend that higher and kinder feelings had no place in
+his heart.
+
+Suddenly redeemed from ruin, suddenly shocked by an awful spectacle, a
+disturbance of old associations where there had once been kindness,
+where estrangements and enmity had succeeded: there was in all this
+something moving and agitating, that stirred his affections strangely
+when he saw his sister.
+
+David Arden had left his house an hour before the news reached its
+inmates. Sir Richard was shown to the drawing-room, where there was no
+one to receive him; and in a minute Alice, looking very pale and
+miserable, entered, and running up to him, without saying a word threw
+her arms about his neck, and sobbed piteously.
+
+Her brother was moved. He folded her to his heart. Broken and hurried
+words of tenderness and affection he spoke, as he kissed her again and
+again. Henceforward he would live a better and wiser life. He had tasted
+the dangers and miseries that attend on play. He swore he would give it
+up. He had done with the follies of his youth. But for years he had not
+had a home. He was thrown into the thick of temptation. A fellow who had
+no home was so likely to amuse himself with play; and he had suffered
+enough to make him hate it, and she should see what a brother he would
+be, henceforward, to her.
+
+Alice's heart was bursting with self-reproach; she told Richard the
+whole story of her trouble of the day before, and the circumstances of
+her departure from Mortlake, all in an agony of tears; and declared, as
+young ladies often have done before, that she never could be happy
+again.
+
+He was disappointed, but generous and gentle feelings had been stirred
+within him.
+
+"Don't reproach yourself, darling; that is mere folly. The entire
+responsibility of your leaving Mortlake belongs to my uncle; and about
+Wynderbroke, you must not torment yourself; you had a right to a voice
+in the matter, surely, and I daresay you would not be happier now if you
+had been less decided, and found yourself at this moment committed to
+marry him. I have more reason to upbraid myself, but I'm sure I was
+right, though I sometimes lost my temper; I know my Uncle David thinks I
+was right; but there is no use now in thinking more about it; right or
+wrong, it is all over, and I won't distract myself uselessly. I'll try
+to be a better brother to you than I ever _have_ been; and I'll make
+Mortlake our head-quarters: or we'll live, if you like it better, at
+Arden Manor, or I'll go abroad with you. I'll lay myself out to make you
+happy. One thing I'm resolved on, and that is to give up play, and find
+some manly and useful pursuit; and you'll see I'll do you some credit
+yet, or at least, as a country squire, do some little good, and be not
+quite useless in my generation; and I'll do my best, dear Alice, to make
+you a happy home, and to be all that I ought to be to you, my darling."
+
+Very affectionately he both spoke and felt, and left Alice with some of
+her anxieties lightened, and already more interest in the future than
+she had thought possible an hour before.
+
+Richard Arden had a good deal upon his hands that morning. He had money
+liabilities that were urgent. He had to catch his friend Mardykes at his
+lodgings, and get him to see the people in whose betting-books he stood
+for large figures, to represent to them what had happened, and assure
+them that a few days should see all settled. Then he had to go to the
+office of his father's attorney, and learn whether a will was
+forthcoming; then to consult with his own attorney, and finally to
+follow his uncle, David Arden, from place to place, and find him at last
+at home, and talk over details, and advise with him generally about many
+things, but particularly about the further dispositions respecting the
+funeral; for a little note from his Uncle David had offered to relieve
+him of the direction of those hateful details transacted with the
+undertaker, which every one is glad to depute.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER L.
+
+UNCLE DAVID'S SUSPICIONS.
+
+
+Mr. David Arden, therefore, had made a call at the office of Paller,
+Crapely, Plumes, and Co., eminent undertakers in the most
+gentleman-like, and, indeed, aristocratic line of business, with immense
+resources at command, and who would undertake to bury a duke, with all
+the necessary draperies, properties, and _dramatis personæ_, if
+required, before his grace was cold in his bed.
+
+A little dialogue occurred here, which highly interested Uncle David. A
+stout gentleman, with a muddy and melancholy countenance, and a sad
+suavity of manner, and in the perennial mourning that belongs to
+gentlemen of his doleful profession, presents himself to David Arden, to
+receive his instructions respecting the deceased baronet's obsequies.
+The top of his head is bald, his face is furrowed and baggy; he looks
+fully sixty-five, and he announces himself as the junior partner, Plumes
+by name.
+
+Having made his suggestions and his notes, and taken his order for a
+strictly private funeral in the neighbourhood of London, Mr. Plumes
+thoughtfully observes that he remembers the name well, having been
+similarly employed for another member of the same family.
+
+"Ah! How was that? How long ago?" asked Mr. Arden.
+
+"About twenty years, Sir."
+
+"And where was that funeral?"
+
+"The same place, Sir, Mortlake."
+
+"Yes, I know that was----?"
+
+"It was Mr. 'Enry, or rayther 'Arry Harden. We 'ad to take back the
+plate, Sir, and change 'Enry to 'Arry--'Arry being the name he was
+baptised by. There was a hinquest connected with that horder."
+
+"So there was, Mr. Plumes," said Uncle David with awakened interest, for
+that gentleman spoke as if he had something more to say on the subject.
+
+"There was, Sir,--and it affected me very sensibly. My niece, Sir, had a
+wery narrow escape."
+
+"Your niece! Really? How could that be?"
+
+"There was a Mister Yelland Mace, Sir, who paid his haddresses to her,
+and I do believe, Sir, she rayther liked him. I don't know, I'm sure,
+whether he was serious in 'is haddresses, but it looked very like as if
+he meant to speak; though I do suppose he was looking 'igher for a wife.
+Well, he was believed to 'ave 'ad an 'and in that 'orrible business."
+
+"I know--so he undoubtably had--and the poor young lady, I suppose, was
+greatly shocked and distressed."
+
+"Yes, Sir, and she died about a year after."
+
+David Arden expressed his regret, and then he asked--
+
+"You have often seen that man, Yelland Mace?"
+
+"Not often, Sir."
+
+"You remember his face pretty well, I daresay?"
+
+"Well, no, Sir, not very well. It is a long time."
+
+"Do you recollect whether there was anything noticeable in his
+features?--had he, for instance, a remarkably prominent nose?"
+
+"I don't remember that he 'ad, Sir. I rather think not, but I can't by
+no means say for certain. It is a long time, and I 'aven't much of a
+memory for faces. There is a likeness of him among my poor niece's
+letters."
+
+"Really? I should be so much obliged if you would allow me to see it."
+
+"It is at 'ome, Sir, but I shall be 'ome to dinner before I go out to
+Mortlake; and, if you please, I shall borrow it of my sister, and take
+it with me."
+
+This offer David Arden gladly accepted.
+
+When the events were recent, he could have no difficulty in identifying
+Yelland Mace, by the evidence of fifty witnesses, if necessary. But it
+was another thing now. The lapse of time had made matters very
+different. It was recent impressions of a vague kind about Mr. Longcluse
+that had revived the idea, and prompted a renewal of the search. Martha
+Tansey was aged now, and he had misgivings about the accuracy of her
+recollection. Was it possible, after all, that he was about to see that
+which would corroborate his first vague suspicions?
+
+Sir Richard had a busy and rather harassing day, the first of his
+succession to an old title and a new authority, and he was not sorry
+when it closed. He had stolen about from place to place in a hired cab,
+and leaned back to avoid a chance recognition, like an absconding
+debtor; and had talked with the people whom he was obliged to call on
+and see, in low and hurried colloquy, through the window of the cab. And
+now night had fallen, the lamps were glaring, and tired enough he
+returned to his lodgings, sent for his tailor, and arranged promptly
+about the
+
+    "----inky cloak, good mother,
+     And customary suits of solemn black;"
+
+and that done, he wrote two or three notes to kindred in Yorkshire, with
+whom it behoved him to stand on good terms; and then he determined to
+drive out to Mortlake Hall. An unpleasant mixture of feelings was in his
+mind as he thought of that visit, and the cold tenant of the ancestral
+house, whom in the grim dignity of death, it would not have been seemly
+to leave for a whole day and night unvisited. It was to him a repulsive
+visit, but how could he postpone it?
+
+Behold him, then, leaning back in his cab, and driving through glaring
+lamps, and dingy shops, and narrow ill-thriven streets, eastward and
+northward; and now, through the little antique village, with trembling
+lights, and by the faded splendours of the "Guy of Warwick." And he sat
+up and looked out of the windows, as they entered the narrow road that
+is darkened by the tall overhanging timber of Mortlake grounds.
+
+Now they are driving up the broad avenue, with its noble old trees
+clumped at either side; and with a shudder Sir Richard Arden leans back
+and moves no more until the cab pulls up at the door-steps, and the
+knock sounds through hall and passages, which he dared not so have
+disturbed, uninvited, a day or two before. Crozier ran down the steps to
+greet Master Richard.
+
+"How are you, old Crozier?" he said, shaking hands from the cab-window,
+for somehow he liked to postpone entering the house as long as he could.
+"I could not come earlier. I have been detained in town all day by
+business, of various kinds, connected with this." And he moved his hand
+toward the open hall-door, with a gloomy nod or two. "How is Martha?"
+
+"Tolerable, Sir, thankye, considerin'. It's a great upset to her."
+
+"Yes, poor thing, of course. And has Mr. Paller been here--the person
+who is to--to----"
+
+"The undertaker? Yes, Sir, he was here at two o'clock, and some of the
+people has been busy in the room, and his men has come out again with
+the coffin, Sir. I think they'll soon be leaving; they've been here a
+quarter of an hour, and--if I may make bold to ask, Sir,--what day will
+the funeral be?"
+
+"I don't know myself, Crozier; I must settle that with my uncle. He said
+he thought he would come here himself this evening, at about nine, and
+it must be very near that now. Where is Martha?"
+
+"In her room, Sir, I think."
+
+"I won't see her there. Ask her to come to the oak-room."
+
+Richard got out and entered the house of which he was now the master,
+with an oppressive misgiving.
+
+The oak-parlour was a fine old room, and into the panels were set four
+full-length portraits. Two of these were a lady and gentleman, in the
+costume of the beginning of Charles the Second's reign. The lady held an
+Italian greyhound by a blue ribbon, and the gentleman stood booted for
+the field, and falcon on fist. It struck Richard, for the first time,
+how wonderfully like Alice that portrait of the beautiful lady was. He
+raised the candle to examine it. There was a story about this lady. She
+had been compelled to marry the companion portrait, with the hawk on his
+hand, and those beautiful lips had dropped a curse, in her despair, when
+she was dying, childless, and wild with grief. She prayed that no
+daughter of the house of Arden might ever wed the man of her love, and
+it was said that a fatality had pursued the ladies of that family, which
+looked like the accomplishment of the malediction; and a great deal of
+curious family lore was connected with this legend and portrait.
+
+As he held the candle up to this picture, still scanning its features,
+the door slowly opened, and Martha Tansey, arrayed in a black silk dress
+of a fashion some twenty years out of date, came in. He set down the
+candle, and took the old woman's hand, and greeted her very kindly.
+
+"How's a' wi' you, Master Richard? A dowly house ye've come too. Ye
+didna look to see this sa soon?"
+
+"Very sudden, Martha--awfully sudden. I could not let the day pass
+without coming out to see you."
+
+"Not me, Master Richard, but to ha'e a last look at the face of the
+father that begot ye. He'll be shrouded and coffined by this time--the
+light 'ill not be lang on that face. The lid will be aboon it and
+screwed down to-morrow, I dar' say. Ay, there goes the undertaker's men;
+and there's a man from Mr. Paller--Mr. Plumes is his name--that says
+he'll stay till your Uncle David comes, for he told him he had something
+very particular to say to him; and I desired him to wait in my room
+after his business about the poor master was over; and the a'ad things
+is passin' awa' and it's time auld Martha was fittin' herself."
+
+"Don't say that, Martha, unless you would have me think you expect to
+find me less kind than my father was."
+
+"There's good and there's bad in every one, Master Richard. Ye can't
+take it in meal and take it in malt. A bit short-waisted he was, there's
+no denyin', and a sharp word now and again; but none so hard to live wi'
+as many a one that was cooler-tempered, and more mealy-mouthed; and I
+think ye were o'er hard wi' him, Master Richard. Ye should have opened
+the estate. It was that killed him," she continued considerately. "Ye
+broke his heart, Master Richard; he was never the same man after he fell
+out wi' you."
+
+"Some day, Martha, you'll learn all about it," said he gently. "It was
+no fault of mine--ask my Uncle David. I'm not the person to persuade
+you; and, beside, I have not courage to talk over that cruel quarrel
+now."
+
+"Come and see him," said the old woman grimly, taking up the candle.
+
+"No, Martha, no; set it down again--I'll not go."
+
+"And when will you see him?"
+
+"Another time--not now--I can't."
+
+"He's laid in his coffin now; they'll be out again in the mornin'. If
+you don't see him now, ye'll never see him; and what will the folk down
+in Yorkshire say, when it's told at Arden Court that Master Richard
+never looked on his dead father's face, nor saw more of him after his
+flittin' than the plate on his coffin. By Jen! 'twill stir the blood o'
+the old tenants and gar them clench their fists and swear, I warrant, at
+the very sound o' yer name; for there never was an Arden died yet, at
+Arden Court, but he was waked, and treated wi' every respect, and
+visited by every living soul of his kindred, for ten mile round."
+
+"If you think so, Martha, say no more. I'll--go as well now as another
+time--and, as you say, sooner or later it must be done."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER LI.
+
+THE SILHOUETTE.
+
+
+"He's lookin' very nice and like himself," mumbled the old woman, as she
+led the way.
+
+At the open door of Sir Reginald's room stood Mr. Plumes, in
+professional black with a pensive and solemn countenance, intending
+politely to do the honours.
+
+"Thank you, Sir," said the old woman graciously, taking the lead in the
+proceedings. "This is the young master, and he won't mind troublin' you,
+Mr. Plumes. If you please to go to my room, Sir, the third door on the
+right, you'll find tea made, Sir; and Mr. Crozier, I think, will be
+there."
+
+And having thus disposed of the stranger, they entered the room, in
+which candles were burning.
+
+Sir Reginald had, as it were, already made dispositions for his final
+journey. He had left his bed, and lay instead, in the handsomely
+upholstered coffin which stood on tressels beside it. Thin and fixed
+were the cold, earthly features that looked upward from their white
+trimmings. Sir Richard Arden checked his step and held his breath as he
+came in sight of these stern lineaments. The pale light that surrounds
+the dead face of the martyr was wanting here: in its stead, upon selfish
+lines and contracted features, a shadow stood.
+
+Mrs. Tansey, with a feather-brush placed near, drove away a fly that was
+trying to alight on the still face.
+
+"I mind him when he was a boy," she said, with a groan and a shake of
+the head. "There was but six years between us, and the life that's ended
+is but a dream, all like yesterday--nothing to look back on; and, I'm
+sure, if there's rest for them that has been troubled on earth, he's
+happy now: a blessed change 'twill be."
+
+"Yes, Martha, we all have our troubles."
+
+"Ay, it's well to know that in time: the young seldom does," she
+answered sardonically.
+
+"I'll go, Martha. I'll return to the oak-room. I wish my uncle were
+come."
+
+"Well, you have took your last look, and that's but decent, and---- Dear
+me, Master Richard, you do look bad!"
+
+"I feel a little faint, Martha. I'll go there; and will you give me a
+glass of sherry?"
+
+He waited at the room door, while Martha nimbly ran to her room, and
+returned with some sherry and a wine-glass. He had hardly taken a glass,
+and begun to feel himself better, when David Arden's step was heard
+approaching from the hall. He greeted his nephew and Martha in a hushed
+undertone, as he might in church; and then, as people will enter such
+rooms, he passed in and crossed with a very soft tread, and said a word
+or two in whispers. You would have thought that Sir Reginald was tasting
+the sweet slumber of precarious convalescence, so tremendously does
+death simulate sleep.
+
+When Uncle David followed his nephew to the oak-room, where the servants
+had now placed candles, he appeared a little paler, as a man might who
+had just witnessed an operation. He looked through the unclosed shutters
+on the dark scene; then he turned, and placed his hand kindly on his
+nephew's arm, and said he, with a sigh--
+
+"Well, Dick, you're the head of the house now; don't run the old ship on
+the rocks. Remember, it is an old name, and, above all, remember, that
+Alice is thrown upon your protection. Be a good brother, Dick. She is a
+true-hearted, affectionate creature: be you the same to her. You can't
+do your duty by her unless you do it also by yourself. For the first
+time in your life, a momentous responsibility devolves upon you. In
+God's name, Dick, give up play and do your duty!"
+
+"I have learned a lesson, uncle; I have not suffered in vain. I'll never
+take a dice-box in my hand again; I'd as soon take a burning coal. I
+shall never back a horse again while I live. I am quite cured, thank
+God, of that madness. I sha'n't talk about it; let time declare how I am
+changed."
+
+"I am glad to hear you speak so. You are right, that is the true test.
+Spoken like a man!" said Uncle David, and he took his hand very kindly.
+
+The entrance of Martha Tansey at this moment gave the talk a new turn.
+
+"By-the-bye, Martha," said he, "has Mr. Plumes come? He said he would be
+here at eight o'clock."
+
+"He's waitin', Sir; and 'twas to tell you so I came in. Shall I tell him
+to come here?"
+
+"I asked him to come, Dick; I knew you would allow me. He has some
+information to give me respecting the wretch who murdered your poor
+Uncle Harry."
+
+"May I remain?" asked Richard.
+
+"Do; certainly."
+
+"Then, Martha, will you tell him to come here?" said Richard, and in
+another minute the sable garments and melancholy visage of Mr. Plumes
+entered the room slowly.
+
+When Mr. Plumes was seated, he said, with much deliberation, in reply to
+Uncle David's question--
+
+"Yes, Sir, I have brought it with me. You said, I think, you wished me
+to fetch it, and as my sister was at home, she hobleeged me with a loan
+of it. It belonged, you may remember, to her deceased daughter--my
+niece. I have got it in my breast-pocket; perhaps you would wish me now
+to take it hout?"
+
+"I'm most anxious to look at it," said Uncle David, approaching with
+extended hand. "You said you had seen him; was this a good likeness?"
+
+These questions and the answers to them occupied the time during which
+Mr. Plumes, whose proceedings were slow as a funeral, disengaged the
+square parcel in question from his pocket, and then went on to loosen
+the knots in the tape which tied it up, and afterwards to unfold the
+wrappings of paper which enveloped it.
+
+"I don't remember him well enough, only that he was good-looking. And
+this was took by machinery, and it _must_ be like. The ball and socket
+they called it. It must be hexact, Sir."
+
+So saying, he produced a square black leather case, which being opened
+displayed a black profile, the hair and whiskers being indicated by a
+sort of gilding which, laid upon sable, reminded one of the decorations
+of a coffin, and harmonised cheerfully with Mr. Plumes' profession.
+
+"Oh!" exclaimed Uncle David with considerable disappointment, "I thought
+it was a miniature; this is only a silhouette; but you are sure it _is_
+the profile of Yelland Mace?"
+
+"That is certain, Sir. His name is on the back of it, and she kept it,
+poor young woman! with a lock of his 'air and some hother relics in her
+work-box."
+
+By this time Uncle David was examining it with deep interest. The
+outline demolished all his fancies about Mr. Longcluse. The nose, though
+delicately formed, was decidedly the ruling feature of the face. It was
+rather a parrot face, but with a good forehead. David Arden was
+disappointed. He handed it to his nephew.
+
+"That is a kind of face one would easily remember," he observed to
+Richard as he looked. "It is not like any one that I know, or _ever_
+knew."
+
+"No," said Richard; "I don't recollect any one the least like it." And
+he replaced it in his uncle's hand.
+
+"We are very much obliged to you, Mr. Plumes; it was your mention of it
+this morning, and my great anxiety to discover all I can respecting that
+man, Yelland Mace, that induced me to make the request. Thank you very
+much," said old Mr. Arden, placing the profile in the fat fingers of Mr.
+Plumes. "You must take a glass of sherry before you leave. And have you
+got a cab to return in?"
+
+"The men are waiting for me, I thank you, and I have just 'ad my tea,
+Sir, much obleeged, and I think I had best return to town, gentlemen, as
+I have some few words to say to-night to our Mr. Trimmer; so, with your
+leave, gentlemen, I'll wish you good-night."
+
+And with a solemn bow, first to Mr. Arden, then to the young scion of
+the house, and lastly a general bow to both, that grave gentleman
+withdrew.
+
+"I could see no likeness in that thing to any one," repeated old Mr.
+Arden. "Mr. Longcluse is a friend of yours?" he added a little abruptly.
+
+"I can't say he was a friend; he was an acquaintance, but even that is
+quite ended."
+
+"What! you don't know him any longer?"
+
+"No."
+
+"You're quite sure!"
+
+"Perfectly."
+
+"Then I may say I'm very glad. I don't like him, and I can't say why;
+but I can't help connecting him with your poor uncle's death. I must
+have dreamed about him and forgot the dream, while the impression
+continues; for I cannot discover in any fact within my knowledge the
+slightest justification for the unpleasant persuasion that constantly
+returns to my mind. I could not trace a likeness to him in that
+silhouette."
+
+He looked at his nephew, who returned his steady look with one of utter
+surprise.
+
+"Oh, dear! no. There is not a vestige of a resemblance," said Richard.
+"I know his features very well."
+
+"No," said Uncle David, lowering his eyes to the table, on which he was
+tapping gently with his fingers; "no, there certainly is not--not any.
+But I can't dismiss the suspicion. I can't get it out of my head,
+Richard, and yet I can't account for it," he said, raising his eyes to
+his nephew's. "There is something in it; I could not else be so
+haunted."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER LII.
+
+MR. LONGCLUSE EMPLOYED.
+
+
+The funeral was not to be for some days, and then to be conducted in the
+quietest manner possible. Sir Reginald was to be buried in a small vault
+under the little church, whose steeple cast its shadow every sunny
+evening across the garden-hedges of the "Guy of Warwick," and could be
+seen to the left from the door of Mortlake Hall, among distant trees.
+Further it was settled by Richard Arden and his uncle, on putting their
+heads together, that the funeral was to take place after dark in the
+evening; and even the undertaker's people were kept in ignorance of the
+exact day and hour.
+
+In the meantime, Mr. Longcluse did not trouble any member of the family
+with his condolences or inquiries. As a raven perched on a solitary
+bough surveys the country round, and observes many things--very little
+noticed himself--so Mr. Longcluse made his observations from his own
+perch and in his own way. Perhaps he was a little surprised on receiving
+from Lady May Penrose a note, in the following terms:--
+
+    "DEAR MR. LONGCLUSE,
+
+    "I have just heard something that troubles me; and as I know of no
+    one who would more readily do me a kindness, I hope you won't think
+    me very troublesome if I beg of you to make me a call to-morrow
+    morning, at any time before twelve.
+
+    "Ever yours sincerely,
+    "MAY PENROSE."
+
+Mr. Longcluse smiled darkly, as he read this note again. "It is better
+to be sought after than to offer one's self."
+
+Accordingly, next morning, Mr. Longcluse presented himself in Lady May's
+drawing-room; and after a little waiting, that good-natured lady entered
+the room. She liked to make herself miserable about the troubles of her
+friends, and on this occasion, on entering the door, she lifted her
+hands and eyes, and quickened her step towards Mr. Longcluse, who
+advanced a step or two to meet her.
+
+"Oh! Mr. Longcluse, it is so kind of you to come," she exclaimed; "I am
+in such a sea of troubles! and you are such a friend, I know I may tell
+you. You have heard, of course, of poor Reginald's death. How horribly
+sudden!--shocking! and dear Alice is so broken by it! He had been, the
+day before, so cross--poor Reginald, everybody knows he had a temper,
+poor old soul!--and had made himself so disagreeable to her, and now she
+is quite miserable, as if it had been her fault. But no matter; it's not
+about that. Only do you happen to know of people--bankers or
+something--called Childers and Ballard?"
+
+"Oh! dear, yes; Childers and Ballard; they are City people, on
+'Change--stockbrokers. They are people you can quite rely on, so far as
+their solvency is concerned."
+
+"Oh! it isn't that. They have not been doing any business for me. It is
+a very unpleasant thing to speak about, even to a kind friend like you;
+but I want you to advise what is best to be done; and to ask you, if it
+is not very unreasonable, to use any influence you can--without trouble,
+of course, I mean--to prevent anything so distressing as may possibly
+happen."
+
+"You have only to say, dear Lady May, what I can do. I am too happy to
+place my poor services at your disposal."
+
+"I knew you would say so," said Lady May, again shaking hands in a very
+friendly way; "and I know what I say won't go any further. I mean, of
+course, that you will receive it entirely as a confidence."
+
+Mr. Longcluse was earnest in his assurances of secresy and good faith.
+
+"Well," said Lady May, lowering her voice, "poor Reginald, he was my
+cousin, you know, so it pains me to say it; but he was a good deal
+embarrassed; his estates were very much in debt. He owed money to a
+great many people, I believe."
+
+"Oh! Really?" Mr. Longcluse expressed his well-bred surprise very
+creditably.
+
+"Yes, indeed; and these people, Childers and Ballard, have something
+they call a judgment, I think. It is a kind of debt, for about twelve
+hundred pounds, which they say must be paid at once; and they vow that
+if it is not they will seize the coffin, and--and--all that, at the
+funeral. And David Arden is so angry, you can't think! and he says that
+the money is not owed to them, and that they have no right by law to do
+any such thing; and that from beginning to end it is a mere piece of
+extortion. And he won't hear of Richard's paying a farthing of it; and
+he says that Richard must bring a law-suit against them, for ever so
+much money, if they attempt anything of the kind, and that he's sure to
+win. But that is not what I am thinking of--it is about poor Alice, she
+is so miserable about the mere chance of its happening. The
+profanation--the fracas--all so shocking and so public--the funeral, you
+know."
+
+"You are quite sure of that, Lady May?" said Longcluse.
+
+"I heard it all as I tell you. My man of business told me; and I saw
+David Arden," she answered.
+
+"Oh! yes; but I mean, with respect to Miss Arden. Does _she_, in
+particular, so very earnestly desire intervention in this awkward
+business?"
+
+"Certainly; _only_ she--only Miss Arden--only Alice."
+
+He looked down in thought, and then again in her face, paler than usual.
+He had made up his mind.
+
+"I shall take measures," he said quietly. "I shall do everything--anything
+in my power. I shall even expose myself to the risk of insult,
+for her sake; only let it soften her. After I have done it,
+ask her, not before, to think mercifully of me."
+
+He was going.
+
+"Stay, Mr. Longcluse, just a moment. I don't know what I am to say to
+you; I am so much obliged. And yet how can I undertake that anything you
+do may affect other people as you wish?"
+
+"Yes, of course you are right; I am willing to take my chance of that.
+Only, dear Lady May, will you _write_ to her? All I plead for--and it is
+the _last_ time I shall sue to her for anything--is that my folly may be
+forgotten, and I restored to the humble privileges of an acquaintance."
+
+"But do you really wish me to write? I'll take an opportunity of
+speaking to her. Would not that be less formal?"
+
+"Perhaps so; but, forgive me, it would not answer. I beg of you to
+write."
+
+"But why do you prefer my writing?"
+
+"Because I shall then read her answer."
+
+"Then I must tell her that you are to read her reply."
+
+"Certainly, dear Lady May; I meant nothing else."
+
+"Well, Mr. Longcluse, there is no great difficulty."
+
+"I only make it a request, not a condition. I shall do my utmost in any
+case. Pray tell her that."
+
+"Yes, I'll write to her, as you wish it; or, at least, I'll ask her to
+put on paper what she desires me to say, and I'll read it to you."
+
+"That will answer as well. How can I thank you?"
+
+"There is no need of thanks. It is I who should thank you for taking, I
+am afraid, a great deal of trouble so promptly and kindly."
+
+"I know those people; they are cunning and violent, difficult to deal
+with, harder to trust," said Longcluse, looking down in thought. "I
+should be most happy to settle with them, and afterwards the executor
+might settle with me at his convenience; but, from what you say, Mr.
+David Arden and his nephew won't admit their claim. I don't believe such
+a seizure would be legal; but they are people who frequently venture
+illegal measures, upon the calculation that it would embarrass those
+against whom they adopt them more than themselves to bring them into
+court. It is not an easy card to play, you see, and they are people I
+hate; but I'll try."
+
+In another minute Mr. Longcluse had taken his leave, and was gone.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER LIII.
+
+THE NIGHT OF THE FUNERAL.
+
+
+Mr. Longcluse smiled as he sat in his cab, driving City-ward to the
+office of Messrs. Childers and Ballard.
+
+"How easily, now, one might get up a scene! Let Ballard, the monster--he
+would look the part well--with his bailiffs, seize the coffin and its
+precious burden in the church; and I, like Sir Edward Maulay, step forth
+from behind a pillar to stay the catastrophe. We could make a very fine
+situation, and I the hero; but the girl is too clever for that, and
+Richard as sharp--that is, as base--as I; knowing my objects, he would
+at once see a _plant_, and all would be spoiled. I shall do it in the
+least picturesque and most probable way. I should like to know the old
+housekeeper, Mrs. Tansey, better; I should like to be on good terms with
+her. An awkward meeting with Arden. What the devil do I care? besides,
+it is but one chance in a hundred. Yes, that is the best way. Can I see
+Mr. Ballard in his private room for a minute?" he added aloud, to the
+clerk, Mr. Blotter, behind the mahogany counter, who turned from his
+desk deferentially, let himself down from his stool, and stood attentive
+before the great man, with his pen behind his ear.
+
+"Certainly, Mr. Longcluse--certainly, Sir. Will you allow me, Sir, to
+conduct you?"
+
+Most men would have been peremptorily denied; the more fortunate would
+have had to await the result of an application to Mr. Ballard; but to
+Mr. Longcluse all doors flew open, and wherever he went, like
+Mephistopheles, the witches received him gaily, and the cat-apes did him
+homage.
+
+Without waiting for the assistance of Mr. Blotter, he ran up the
+back-stairs familiarly to see Mr. Ballard; and when Mr. Longcluse came
+down, looking very grave, Mr. Ballard, with the red face and lowering
+countenance which he could not put off, accompanied him down-stairs
+deferentially, and held open the office-door for him; and could not
+suppress his grins for some time in the consciousness of the honour he
+had received. Mr. Ballard hoped that the people over the way had seen
+Mr. Longcluse step from his door; and mentioned to everyone he talked to
+for a week, that he had Mr. Longcluse in his private office in
+consultation--first it was "for a quarter of an hour by the clock over
+the chimney," speedily it grew to "half-an-hour," and finally to
+"upwards of an hour, by----," with a stare in the face of the wondering,
+or curious, listener. And when clients looked in, in the course of the
+day, to consult him, he would say, with a wag of his head and a little
+looseness about minutes, "There was a man sitting here a minute ago, Mr.
+Longcluse--you may have met him as you came up the stairs--that could
+have given us a wrinkle about that;" or, "Longcluse, who was here
+consulting with me this morning, is clearly of opinion that Italian
+bonds will be down a quarter by settling day;" or, "Take my advice, and
+don't burn your fingers with those things, for it is possible something
+queer may happen any day after Wednesday. I had Longcluse--I daresay you
+may have heard of him," he parenthesised jocularly--"sitting in that
+chair to-day for very nearly an hour and a half, and that's a fellow one
+doesn't sit long with without hearing something worth remembering."
+
+From the attorney of Sir Richard Arden was served upon Messrs. Childers
+and Ballard, that day, a cautionary notice in very stern terms
+respecting their threatened attack upon Sir Reginald's funeral
+appointments and body; to which they replied in terms as sharp, and
+fixed three o'clock for payment of the bond.
+
+It was a very short mile from Mortlake to that small old church near the
+"Guy of Warwick," the bit of whose grey spire and the pinnacle of whose
+weather-cock you could see between the two great clumps of elms to the
+left. Sir Reginald, feet foremost, was to make this little journey that
+evening under a grove of black plumes, to the small, quiet room, which
+he was henceforward to share with his ancestor Sir Hugh Arden, of
+Mortlake Hall, Baronet, whose pillard monument decorated the little
+church.
+
+He lies now, soldered up and screwed down, in his strait bed, triply
+secured in lead, mahogany, and oak, and as safe as "the old woman of
+Berkeley" hoped to be from the grip of marauders. Once there, and the
+stone door replaced and mortared in, the irritable old gentleman might
+sleep the quietest sleep his body had ever enjoyed, to the crack of
+doom. The space was short, too, which separated that from the bed-room
+he was leaving; but the interval was "Jew's ground," trespassing on
+which, it was thought, he ran a great risk of being clutched by frantic
+creditors. A whisper of the danger had got into the housekeeper's room;
+and Crozier, whose north-country blood was hot, and temper warlike, had
+loaded the horse-pistols, and swore that he would shoot the first man
+who laid a hand unfriendly on the old master's coffin.
+
+There was an agitation simmering under the grim formalities and tip-toe
+treadings of the house of death. Martha Tansey grew frightened, angry as
+she was, and told Richard Arden that Crozier was "neither to hold nor to
+bind, and meant to walk by the hearse, and stand by the coffin till it
+was shut into the vault, with loaded pistols in his coat-pockets, and
+would make food for worms so sure as they villains dar'd to interrupt
+the funeral."
+
+Whereupon Richard saw Crozier, took the pistols from him, shook him very
+hard by the hand, for he liked him all the more, and told him that he
+would desire nothing better than their attempting to accomplish their
+threats, as he was well advised the law would make examples of them.
+Then he went up-stairs, and saw Alice, and he could not help thinking
+how her black crapes became her. He kissed her, and, sitting down beside
+her, said,--
+
+"Martha Tansey says, darling, that you are unhappy about something she
+has been telling you concerning this miserable funeral. She ought not to
+have alarmed you about it. If I had known that you were frightened, or,
+in fact, knew anything about it, I should have made a point of coming
+out here yesterday, although I had fifty things to do."
+
+"I had a very good-natured note to-day, Dick, from Lady May," she
+said--"only a word, but very kindly intended." And she placed the open
+note in his fingers. When he had read it, Richard dropped the note on
+the table with a sneer.
+
+"That man, I suspect, is himself the secret promoter of this outrage--a
+very inexpensive way, this, of making character with Lady May, and
+placing you under an obligation--the scoundrel!"
+
+Looks and language of hatred are not very pretty at any time, but in the
+atmosphere of death they acquire a character of horror. Some momentary
+disturbance of this kind Richard may have seen in his sister's pale
+face, for he said,--
+
+"Don't mind what I say about that fellow, for I have no patience with
+myself for having ever known him."
+
+"I am so glad, Dick, you have dropped _that_ acquaintance!" said the
+young lady.
+
+"You have come at last to think as I do," said Richard.
+
+"It is not so much thinking as something different; the uncertainty
+about him--the appalling stories you have heard--and, oh! Richard, I had
+such a dream last night! I dreamt that Mr. Longcluse murdered you. You
+smile, but I could not have imagined anything that was not real, so
+vivid, and it was in this room, and--I don't know how, for I forget the
+beginning of it--the candles went out, and you were standing near the
+door talking to me, and bright moonlight was at the window, and showed
+you quite distinctly, and the open door; and Mr. Longcluse came from
+behind it with a pistol, and I tried to scream, but I couldn't. But you
+turned about and stabbed at him with a knife or something; it shone in
+the moonlight, and instantly there was a line of blood across his face;
+he fired, and I saw you fall back on the floor; I knew you were dead,
+and I awoke in terror. I thought I still saw his wicked face in the
+dark, quite white as it was in my dream. I screamed, and thought I was
+going mad."
+
+"It is only, darling, that all that has happened has made you nervous,
+and no wonder. Don't mind your dreams. Longcluse and I will never
+exchange a word more. We have turned our backs on one another, and our
+paths lie in very different directions."
+
+This was a melancholy and grizzly evening at Mortlake Hall. The
+undertakers were making some final and mysterious arrangements about the
+coffin, and stole in and out of the dead baronet's room, of which they
+had taken possession.
+
+Martha Tansey was alone in her room. It was a lurid sunset. Immense
+masses of black cloud were piled in the west, and from a long opening in
+that sombre screen, near the horizon, the expiring light glared like the
+red fire at night, through the clink of a smithy. Mrs. Tansey, dressed
+in deepest mourning, awaited the hour when she was to accompany the
+funeral of her old master.
+
+Without succumbing to the threat of Messrs. Childers and Ballard, David
+Arden and his nephew would have been glad to evade the risk of the
+fracas, which would no doubt have been a dismal scandal. Martha Tansey
+herself was not quite sure at what hour the funeral was to leave
+Mortlake. Opposite the window from which she looked, stand groups of
+gigantic elms that darken that side of the house, and underwood forms a
+thick screen among their trunks. Upon the edges of this foliage glinted
+that fierce farewell gleam, and among the glimmering leaves behind she
+thought she saw the sinister face of Mr. Longcluse looking toward her.
+Her fear and horror of Longcluse had increased, and if the very
+remembrance of him visited her with a sudden qualm, you may be sure that
+the sight of him, on this melancholy evening, was a shock. Alice's wild
+dream, which she had recounted to her, did not serve to dissociate him
+from the vague misgivings that his image called up. She stared aghast at
+the apparition--itself uncertain--while in the deep shadow, with a
+foreground of fiercely flashing leaves, had on a sudden looked at her,
+and before she could utter an exclamation it was gone.
+
+"I think it is my old eyes that plays me tricks, and my weary head
+that's 'wildered wi' all this dowly jummlement! What sud bring him
+there? It was never him I sid, only a fancy, and it's past and gone; and
+so, in the name of God, be it now, and ever, amen! For an evil sight it
+is, and bodes us no good. Who's there?"
+
+"It's me, Mrs. Tansey," said Crozier, who had just come in. "Master
+Richard desired me to tell you it is to be at ten o'clock to-night. He
+and Mr. David thinks that best, and you're to please not to mention it
+to no one."
+
+"Ten o'clock! That's very late, ain't it? No, surely, I'll not blab to
+no one; let him tell them when he sees fit. Martha Tansey's na that
+sort; she has had mony a secret to keep, and always the confidence o'
+the family, and 'twould be queer if she did not know to ho'd her tongue
+by this time. Sit ye down, Mr. Crozier--ye're wore off yer feet, man,
+like myself, ever since this happened--and rest a bit; the kettle's
+boilin', and ye'll tak' a cup o' tea. It's hours yet to ten o'clock."
+
+So Mr. Crozier, who was in truth a tired man, complied, and took his
+seat by the fire, and talked over Sir Reginald's money matters, his
+fits, and his death; and, finally, he fell asleep in his chair, having
+taken three cups of tea.
+
+The twilight had melted into darkness by this time, and the clear, cold
+moonlight was frosting all the landscape, and falling white and bright
+on the carriage-way outside, and casting on the floor the sharp shadows
+of the window-sashes, and giving the brilliant representations of the
+windows and the very veining of the panes of glass upon the white
+boards.
+
+As Martha sat by the table, with her eyes fixed, in a reverie, on one of
+these reflections upon the floor, the shadow of a man was suddenly
+presented upon it, and raising her eyes she saw a figure, black against
+the moonlight, beckoning gently to her to approach.
+
+Martha Tansey was an old lass of the Northumbrian counties, and had in
+her veins the fiery blood of the Border. The man wore a great-coat, and
+she could not discern his features; but he was tall and slight, and she
+was sure he was Mr. Longcluse. But "what dar' Longcluse say or do that
+she need fear?" And was not Crozier dozing there in the chair, "ready at
+call?"
+
+Up she got, and stalked boldly to the window, and, drawing near, she
+plainly saw, as the stranger drew himself up from the window-pane
+through which he had been looking, and the moonlight glanced on his
+features, that the face was indeed that of Mr. Longcluse. He looked very
+pale, and was smiling. He nodded to her in a friendly way once or twice
+as she approached. She stood stock-still about two yards away, and
+though she knew him well, she deigned no sign of recognition, for she
+had learned vaguely something of the feud that had sprung up between him
+and the young head of the family, and no daughter of the marches was
+ever a fiercer partisan than lean old Martha. He tapped at the window,
+still smiling, and beckoned her nearer. She did come a step nearer, and
+asked sternly--
+
+"What's your will wi' me?"
+
+"I'm Mr. Longcluse," he said, in a low tone, but with sharp and measured
+articulation. "I have something important to say. Open the window a
+little; I must not raise my voice, and I have this to give you." He held
+a note by the corner, and tapped it on the glass.
+
+Martha Tansey thought for a moment. It could not be a law-writ he had to
+serve; a rich man like him would never do that. Why should she not take
+his note, and hear what he had to say? She removed the bolt from the
+sash, and raised the window. There was not a breath stirring.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER LIV.
+
+AMONG THE TREES.
+
+
+When the old woman had raised the window, "Thanks," said Mr. Longcluse,
+almost in a whisper. "There are people, Lady May Penrose told me this
+morning, threatening to interrupt the funeral to-night. Of course you
+know--you must know."
+
+"I have heard o' some such matter, but 'tis nout to no one here. We
+don't care a snap for them, and if they try any sich lids, by my sang,
+we'll fit them. And I think, Sir, if ye've any thing o' consequence to
+tell to the family, ye'll not mind my saying 'twould be better ye sud
+go, like ither folk, to the hall-door, and leave your message there."
+
+"Your reproof would be better deserved, Mrs. Tansey," he answers
+good-humouredly, "if there had not been a difficulty. Mr. Richard Arden
+is not on pleasant terms with me, and my business will not afford to
+wait. I understand that Miss Arden has suffered much anxiety. It is
+entirely on her account that I have interested myself so much in it; and
+I don't see, Mrs. Tansey, why you and I should not be better friends,"
+he adds, extending his long slender hand gently towards her.
+
+She does not take it, but makes a stiff little curtsey instead, and
+draws back about six inches.
+
+Perhaps Mr. Longcluse had meditated making her a present, but her severe
+looks daunted him, and he thought that he might as well be a little
+better acquainted before he made that venture. He went on--
+
+"You have spoken very wisely, Mrs. Tansey; I am sure if these people do
+as they threaten, it will be contrary to law, and so, as you say, you
+may snap your fingers at them at last. But in the meantime they may
+enter the house and seize the coffin, or possibly cause some disgraceful
+interruption on the way. Lady May tells me that Miss Alice has suffered
+a great deal in consequence. Will you tell her to set her mind at ease?
+Pray assure her that I have seen the people, that I have threatened them
+into submission, that I am confident no such attempt will be made, and
+that should the slightest annoyance be attempted, Crozier has only to
+present the notice enclosed in this to the person offering it, and it
+will instantly be discontinued. I have done all this _entirely_ on her
+account, and pray lose no time in quieting her alarms. I am sure, Mrs.
+Tansey, you and I shall be better friends some day."
+
+Mrs. Tansey curtseyed again.
+
+"Pray take this note."
+
+She took it.
+
+"Give it to Crozier; and pray tell Miss Alice Arden, immediately, that
+she need have no fears. Good-night."
+
+And pale Mr. Longcluse, with his smile and his dismally dark gaze, and
+the strange suggestion of something undefined in look or tone, or air,
+that gradually overcame her more and more till she almost felt faint, as
+he smiled and murmured at the open window, in the moonlight, was gone.
+Then she stood with the note in her thin fingers, without moving, and
+called to Crozier with a shrill and earnest summons as one who has just
+had a frightful dream will call up a sleeper in the same room.
+
+Mr. Longcluse walks boldly and listlessly through this forbidden ground.
+He does not care who may meet him. Near the house, indeed, he would not
+like an encounter with Sir Richard Arden, because he knows that his
+being involved in a quarrel at such a moment, so near, especially with
+her brother, would not subserve his interests with Alice Arden.
+
+For hours he strode or loitered alone through the solitary woodlands.
+The moonlight was beautiful; the old trees stand mournful and black
+against the luminous sky; there is for him a fascination in the
+solitude, as his noiseless steps lead him alternately into the black
+shadow cast on the sward by the towering foliage, and into the clear
+moonlight, on dewy grass that shows grey in that cold brightness. He was
+in the excitement of hope and suspense. Things had looked very black,
+but a door had opened and light came out. Was it a dream?
+
+He leans with folded arms against the trunk of one of the trees that
+stand there, and from the slight elevation of the ground he can see the
+avenue under the boughs of the trees that flank it, and the chimneys of
+Mortlake Hall through the summits of the opening clumps. How melancholy
+and still the whole scene looks under that light!
+
+"When I succeed to all this, who will be mistress of it?" he says, with
+his strange smile, looking toward the summits of the chimneys, that
+indicate the site of the Hall. "No one knows who I am; who can tell my
+history? What about that opera-girl? What about my money?--money is
+alway exaggerated. How many humbugs! how many collapses! stealing into
+society by evasions, on false pretences, in disguise! The man in the
+mask, ha! ha! Really perhaps _two_ masks; not a bad fluke, that. The
+villain! You would not take a thousand pounds and know me--that is
+speaking boldly. A thousand pounds is still something in your book. You
+would not take it. The time will come, perhaps, when you'd _give_ a
+thousand--_ten_ thousand, if you had them--that I were your friend.
+Slanderous villain! To think of his talking so of me! The man in the
+mask trying to excite suspicion. My two masks are broken, and I all the
+better. By--! you shall meet me yet without a mask. Alice! will you be
+my idol? There is no neutrality with one like me in such a case. If I
+don't worship, I must _break_ the image. What a speck we stand on
+between the illimitable--the eternal past and the eternal future--always
+looking for a present that shall be something tangible; always finding
+it a mathematical point, _cujus nulla est pars_--the mere stand-point of
+a retrospect and a conjecture. Ha! There are the wheels: there goes the
+funeral!"
+
+He holds his breath, and watches. How interesting is everything
+connected with Alice! Slowly it passes along. Through one opening made
+by the havoc of a storm in the line of trees that form the avenue, he
+sees it plainly enough. A very scanty procession--the plumed hearse and
+three carriages, and a few persons walking beside. It passes. The great
+iron gate shrieks its long and dolorous note as it opened, and Longcluse
+heard it clang after the last carriage had passed, and with this
+farewell the old gate sent forth the dead master of Mortlake.
+
+"Farewell to Mortlake," murmured Longcluse, as he heard these sounds,
+with a shrug and his peculiar smile; "farewell, the lights, the
+claret-jug, the whist, and all the rest. You 'fear neither justices nor
+bailiffs,' as the song says, any longer. Very easy about your interest
+and your premiums; very careless who arrests you in your leaden vesture;
+and having paid, if nothing else, at least your beloved son's _post
+obit_. Courage, Sir Reginald! your earthly troubles are over. Here am I,
+erect as this tree, and as like to live my term out, with all that
+money, and no will made, and yet as tired as ever you were, and very
+willing, if the transaction were feasible, to die, and be bothered no
+more, instead of you."
+
+He sighs, and looks toward the house, and sighs again.
+
+"Does she relent? Was it not she who told Lady May to ask this service
+of me? If I could only be sure of that, I should stand here, this
+moment, the proudest man in England. I think I know myself--a very
+simple character; just two principles--love and malice; for the rest,
+unscrupulous. Mere cruelty gives me no pleasure: well for some people it
+don't. Revenge does make me happy: well for some people if it didn't.
+Except for those I love or those I hate, I live for none. The rest live
+for me. I owe them no more than I do this rotten stick. Let them rot and
+fatten my land; let them burn and bake my bread."
+
+With these words he kicked the fragments of a decayed branch that lay at
+his foot, and glided over the short grass, like a ghost, toward the
+gate.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER LV.
+
+MR. LONGCLUSE SEES A FRIEND.
+
+
+Sir Reginald Arden, then, is actually dead and buried, and is quite done
+with the pomps and vanities, the business and the miseries of life--dead
+as King Duncan, and cannot come out of his grave to trouble any one with
+protest or interference; and his son, Sir Richard, is in possession of
+the title, and seized of the acres, and uses them, without caring to
+trouble himself with conjectures as to what his father would have liked
+or abhorred.
+
+A week has passed since the funeral. Lady May has spent two days at
+Mortlake, and then gone down to Brighton. Alice does not leave Mortlake;
+her spirits do not rise. Kind Lady May has done her best to persuade her
+to come down with her to Brighton, but the perversity or the indolence
+of grief has prevailed, and Alice has grown more melancholy and
+self-upbraiding about her quarrel with her father, and will not be
+persuaded to leave Mortlake, the very worst place she could have chosen,
+as Lady May protests, for a residence during her mourning. Perhaps in a
+little while she may feel equal to the effort, but now she can't. She
+has quite lost her energy, and the idea of a place like Brighton, or
+even the chance of meeting people, is odious to her.
+
+"So, my dear, do what I may, there she will remain, in that _triste_
+place," says Lady May Penrose; "and her brother, Sir Richard, has so
+much business just now on his hands, that he is often away two or three
+days at a time, and then she stays moping there quite alone; and only
+that she likes gardening and flowers, and that kind of thing, I really
+think she would go melancholy mad. But you know that kind of folly can't
+go on always, and I am determined to take her away in a month or so.
+People at first are so morbid, and make recluses of themselves."
+
+Lady May stayed away at Brighton for about a week. On her return, Mr.
+Longcluse called to see her.
+
+"It was so kind of you, Mr. Longcluse, to take all the trouble you did
+about that terrible business! and it was perfectly successful. There was
+not the slightest unpleasantness."
+
+"Yes, I knew I had made anything of that kind all but impossible, but
+you are not to thank me. It made me only too happy to have an
+opportunity of being of any use--of relieving any anxiety."
+
+Longcluse sighed.
+
+"You have placed me, I know, under a great obligation, and if every one
+felt it as I do, you would have been thanked as you deserved before
+now."
+
+A little silence followed.
+
+"How is Miss Arden?" asked he in a low tone, and hardly raising his
+eyes.
+
+"Pretty well," she answered, a little dryly. "She's not very wise, I
+think, in planning to shut herself up so entirely in that melancholy
+place, Mortlake. You have seen it?"
+
+"Yes, more than once," he answered.
+
+Lady May appeared more embarrassed as Mr. Longcluse grew less so. They
+became silent again. Mr. Longcluse was the first to speak, which he did
+a little hesitatingly.
+
+"I was going to say that I hoped Miss Arden was not vexed at my having
+ventured to interfere as I did."
+
+"Oh! about that, of course there ought to be, as I said, but one
+opinion; but you know she is not herself just now, and I shall have,
+perhaps, something to tell by-and-by; and, to say truth--you won't be
+vexed, but I'm sorry I undertook to speak to her, for on that point I
+really don't quite understand her; and I am a little vexed--and--I'll
+talk to you more another time. I'm obliged to keep an appointment just
+now, and the carriage," she added, glancing at the _pendule_ on the
+bracket close by, "will be at the door in two or three minutes; so I
+must do a very ungracious thing, and say good-bye; and you must come
+again very soon--come to luncheon to-morrow--you must, really; I won't
+let you off, I assure you; there are two or three people coming to see
+me, whom I think you would like to meet."
+
+And, looking very good-natured, and a little flushed, and rather
+avoiding Mr. Longcluse's dark eyes, she departed.
+
+He had been thinking of paying Miss Maubray a visit, but he had not
+avowed, even to himself, how high his hopes had mounted; and here was,
+in Lady May's ominous manner and determined evasion, matter to disturb
+and even shock him. Instead, therefore, of pursuing the route he had
+originally designed, he strolled into the park, and under the shade of
+green boughs he walked, amid the twitter of birds and the prattle of
+children and nursery-maids, with despair at his heart, and a brain in
+chaos.
+
+As he sauntered, with downcast looks, under the trees, he came upon a
+humble Hebrew friend, Mr. Goldshed, a magnate in his own circle, but
+dwarfed into nothing beside the paragon of Mammon who walked on the
+grass, so unpretentiously, and with a face as anxious as that of the
+greengrocer who had just been supplicating the Jew for a renewal of his
+twenty-five pound bill.
+
+Mr. Goldshed came to a full stop a little way in advance of Mr.
+Longcluse, anxious to attract his attention. Mr. Longcluse did see him,
+as he sauntered on; and the fat old Jew, with the seedy velvet
+waistcoat, crossed with gold chains, and with an old-fashioned gold
+eye-glass dangling at his breast, first smiled engagingly, then looked
+reverential and solemn, and then smiled again with his great moist lips,
+and raised his hat. Longcluse gave him a sharp, short nod, and intended
+to pass him.
+
+"Will you shpare me one word, Mr. Lonclushe?"
+
+"Not to-day, Sir."
+
+"But I've been to your chambers, Sir, and to your houshe, Mr.
+Lonclushe."
+
+"You've wasted time--waste no more."
+
+"I do assure you, Shir, it'sh very urgent."
+
+"I don't care."
+
+"It'sh about that East Indian thing," and he lowered his voice as he
+concluded the sentence.
+
+"I don't care a pin, Sir."
+
+The amiable Mr. Goldshed hesitated; Mr. Longcluse passed him as if he
+had been a post. He turned, however, and walked a few steps by Mr.
+Longcluse's side.
+
+"And everything elshe is going sho vell; and it would look fishy, don't
+you think, to let thish thing go that way?"
+
+"Let them go--and go you with them. I wish the earth would swallow you
+all--scrip, bonds, children, and beldames." And if a stamp could have
+made the earth open at his bidding, it would have yawned wide enough at
+that instant. "If you follow me another step, by Heaven, I'll make it
+unpleasant to you."
+
+Mr. Longcluse looked so angry, that the Jew made him an unctuous bow,
+and remained fixed for a while to the earth, gazing after his patron
+with his hands in his pockets; and, with a gloomy countenance, he took
+forth a big cigar from his case, lighted a vesuvian, and began to smoke,
+still looking after Mr. Longcluse.
+
+That gentleman sauntered on, striking his stick now and then to the
+ground, or waving it over the grass in as many odd flourishes as a
+magician in a pantomime traces with his wand.
+
+If men are prone to teaze themselves with imaginations, they are equally
+disposed to comfort themselves with the same shadowy influences.
+
+"I'm so nervous about this thing, and so anxious, that I exaggerate
+everything that seems to tell against me. How did I ever come to love
+her so? And yet, would I kill that love if I could? Should I not kill
+myself first? I'll go and see Miss Maubray--I may hear something from
+her. Lady May _was_ embarrassed: what then? Were I a simple observer of
+such a scene in the case of another, I should say there was nothing in
+it more than this--that she had quite forgotten all about her promise.
+She never mentioned my name, and when the moment came, and I had come to
+ask for an account, she did not know what to say. It was well done, to
+see old Mrs. Tansey as I did. Lady May is so good-natured, and would
+feel her little neglect so much, and she will be sure to make it up.
+Fifty things may have prevented her. Yes, I'll go and hear what Miss
+Maubray has to say, and I'll lunch with Lady May to-morrow. I suspect
+that her visit to-day was to Mortlake."
+
+With these reflections, Mr. Longcluse's pace became brisker, and his
+countenance brightened.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER LVI.
+
+A HOPE EXPIRES.
+
+
+Mr. Longcluse knocked at Mr. David Arden's door. Yes, Miss Maubray was
+at home. He mounted the stairs, and was duly announced at the
+drawing-room door, and saw the brilliant young lady, who received him
+very graciously. She was alone.
+
+Mr. Longcluse began by saying that the weather was cooler, and the sun
+much less intolerable.
+
+"I wish we could say as much for the people, though, indeed, they are
+cool enough. There are some people called Tramways: he's a baronet--a
+very new one. Do you know anything of them? Are they people one can
+know?"
+
+"I only know that Lady Tramway chaperoned a very charming young lady,
+whom everybody is very glad to know, to Lady May's garden-party the
+other day, at Richmond."
+
+"Yes, very true; I'm that young lady, and that is the very reason I want
+to know. My uncle placed me in their hands."
+
+"Oh, he knows everybody."
+
+"Yes, and every one, which is quite another thing; and the woman has
+never given me an hour's quiet since. She presents me with bouquets, and
+fruit, and every imaginable thing I don't want, herself included, at
+least once a day; and I assure you I live in hourly terror of her
+getting into the drawing-room. You don't know anything about them?"
+
+"I only know that her husband made a great deal of money by a contract."
+
+"That sounds very badly, and she is such a vulgar woman?"
+
+"I know no more of them; but Lady May had her to Raleigh Hall, and
+surely she can satisfy your scruples."
+
+"No, it was my guardian who asked for their card, so that goes for
+nothing. It is really too bad."
+
+"My heart bleeds for you."
+
+"By-the-bye, talking of Lady May, I had a visit from her not a
+quarter-of-an-hour ago. What a fuss our friends at Mortlake do make
+about the death of that disagreeable old man!--Alice, I mean. Richard
+Arden bears it wonderfully. When did you see either?" she asked,
+innocently.
+
+"You forget he has not been dead three weeks, and Alice Arden is not
+likely to see any one but very intimate friends for a long time;
+and--and I daresay you have heard that Sir Richard Arden and I are not
+on very pleasant terms."
+
+"'Oh! Pity such difference should be----.'"
+
+"Thanks, and Tweedledum and Tweedledee are not likely to make it up. I'm
+afraid people aren't always reasonable, you know, and expect, often,
+things that are not quite fair."
+
+"He ought to marry some one with money, and give up play."
+
+"What! give up play, and commence husband? I'm afraid he'd think that a
+rather dull life."
+
+"Well, I'm sure I'm no judge of that, although I give an opinion.
+Whatever he may be, you have a very staunch friend in Lady May."
+
+"I'm glad of that; she's always so kind." And he looked rather oddly at
+the young lady.
+
+Perhaps she seemed conscious of a knowledge more than she had yet
+divulged.
+
+This young lady was, I need not tell you, a little coarse. She had, when
+she liked, the frankness that can come pretty boldly to the point; but I
+think she could be sly enough when she pleased; and was she just a
+little mischievous?
+
+"Lady May has been talking to me a great deal about Alice Arden. She has
+been to see her very often since that poor old man died, and she
+says--she says, Mr. Longcluse--will you be upon honour not to repeat
+this?"
+
+"Certainly, upon my honour."
+
+"Well, she says----"
+
+Miss Maubray gets up quickly, and settles some flowers over the
+chimney-piece.
+
+"She says that there is a coolness in that quarter also."
+
+"I don't quite see," says Mr. Longcluse.
+
+"Well, I must tell you she has taken me into council, and told me a
+great deal; and she spoke to Alice, and wrote to her. Did she say she
+would show you the answer? I have got it; she left it with me, and asked
+me--she's so good-natured--to use my influence--she said _my_ influence!
+She ought to know I've _no_ influence."
+
+Longcluse felt very oddly indeed during this speech; he had still
+presence of mind not to add anything to the knowledge the young lady
+might actually possess.
+
+"You have not said a great deal, you know; but Lady May certainly did
+promise to show me an answer which she expected to a note she wrote
+about three weeks ago, or less, to Miss Arden."
+
+"I really don't know of what use I can be in the matter. I have no
+excuse for speaking to Alice on the subject of her note--none in the
+world. I think I may as well let you see it; but you will promise--you
+_have_ promised--not to tell any one?"
+
+"I have--I do--I promise. Lady May herself said she would show me that
+letter."
+
+"Well, I can't, I suppose, be very wrong. It is only a note: it does not
+say much, but quite enough, I'm afraid, to make it useless, and almost
+impertinent, for me, or any one else, to say a word more on the subject
+to Alice Arden."
+
+All this time she is opening a very pretty marqueterie writing-desk, on
+spiral legs, which Longcluse has been listlessly admiring, little
+thinking what it contains. She now produced a little note, which,
+disengaging from its envelope, she places in the hand that Mr. Longcluse
+extended to receive it.
+
+"I do so hope," she said, as she gave it to him, "that I am doing what
+Lady May would wish. I think she shrank a little from showing it to you
+herself, but I am certain she wished you to know what is in it."
+
+He opened it quickly. It ran thus ("Merry," I must remark, was a pet
+name, originating, perhaps, in Shakespeare's song that speaks of "the
+merry month of May"):--
+
+    "DEAREST MERRY,
+
+    "I hope you will come to see me to-morrow. I cannot yet bear the
+    idea of going into town. I feel as if I never should, and I think I
+    grow more and more miserable every day. You are one of the very few
+    friends whom I can see. You can't think what a pleasure a call from
+    you is--if, indeed, in my miserable state, I can call anything a
+    pleasure. I have read your letter about Mr. Longcluse, and parts of
+    it a little puzzle me. I can't say that I have anything to forgive,
+    and I am sure he has acted just as kindly as you say. But our
+    acquaintance has ended, and nothing shall ever induce me to renew
+    it. I can give you fifty reasons, when I see you, for my not
+    choosing to know him. Darling Merry, I have quite made up my mind
+    upon this point. I _don't_ know Mr. Longcluse, and I _won't_ know
+    Mr. Longcluse; and I'll tell you _all_ my reasons, if you wish to
+    hear them, when we meet. Some of them, which seem to me _more_ than
+    sufficient, you do know. The only condition I make is that you don't
+    discuss them with me. I have grown so stupid that _I_ really cannot.
+    I only know that I am right, and that _nothing_ can change me. Come,
+    darling, and see me very soon. You have no idea how very wretched I
+    am. But I do not complain: it has drawn me, I hope, to higher and
+    better thoughts. The world is not what it was to me, and I pray it
+    never may be. Come and see me soon, darling; you cannot think how I
+    long to see you.--Your affectionate,
+
+    "ALICE ARDEN."
+
+"What mountains of molehills!" said Mr. Longcluse, very gently, smiling
+with a little shrug, as he placed the letter again in Miss Maubray's
+hand.
+
+"Making such a fuss about that poor old man's death! It certainly does
+look a little like a pretty affectation. Isn't that what you mean? He
+_was_ so _insupportable_!"
+
+"No, I know nothing about that. I mean such a ridiculous fuss about
+nothing. Why, people cease to be acquainted every day for much less
+reason. Sir Reginald chose to talk over his money matters with me, and I
+think he expected me to do things which no stranger could be reasonably
+invited to do. And I suppose, now that he is gone, Miss Arden resents my
+insensibility to his hints; and I daresay Sir Richard, who, I may say,
+on precisely similar grounds, chooses to quarrel with me, does not spare
+invective, and has, of course, a friendly listener in his sister. But
+how absurdly provoking that Lady May should have made such a diplomacy,
+and given herself so much trouble! And--I'm afraid I appear so
+foolish--I merely assented to Lady May's kind proposal to mediate, and I
+could not, of course, appear to think it a less important mission than
+she did; and--where are you going--Scotland? Italy?"
+
+"My guardian, Mr. Arden, has not yet settled anything," she answered;
+and upon this, Mr. Longcluse begins to recommend, and with much
+animation to describe, several Continental routes, and then he tells her
+all his gossip, and takes his leave, apparently in very happy spirits.
+
+I doubt very much whether the face can ever be taught to lie as
+impudently as the tongue. Its muscles, of course, can be trained; but
+the young lady thought that Mr. Longcluse's pallor, as he smiled and
+returned the note, was more intense, and his dark eyes strangely fierce.
+
+"He was more vexed than he cared to say," thought the young lady. "Lady
+May has not told me the whole story yet. There has been a great deal of
+fibbing, but I shall know it all."
+
+Mr. Longcluse had to dine out. He drove home to dress. On arriving, he
+first sat down and wrote a note to Lady May.
+
+    "DEAR LADY MAY,
+
+    "I am so grateful. Miss Maubray told me to-day all the trouble you
+    have been taking for me. Pray think no more of that little vexation.
+    I never took so serious a view of so commonplace an unpleasantness,
+    as to dream of tasking your kindness so severely. I am quite ashamed
+    of having given you so much trouble.--Yours, dear Lady May,
+    sincerely,
+
+    "WALTER LONGCLUSE."
+
+    "P.S.--I don't forget your kind invitation to lunch to-morrow."
+
+Longcluse dispatched this note, and then wrote a few words of apology to
+the giver of the City dinner, to which he had intended to go. He could
+not go. He was very much agitated: he knew that he could not endure the
+long constraint of that banquet. He was unfit, for the present, to bear
+the company of any one. Gloomy and melancholy was the pale face of this
+man, as if he were going to the funeral of his beloved, when he stepped
+from his door in the dark. Was he going to walk out to Mortlake, and
+shoot himself on the steps?
+
+As Mr. Longcluse walked into town, he caught a passing sight of a
+handsome young face that jarred upon him. It was that of Richard Arden,
+who was walking, also alone, not under any wild impulse, but to keep an
+appointment. This handsome face appeared for a moment gliding by, and
+was lost. Melancholy and thoughtful he looked, and quite unconscious of
+the near vicinity of his pale adversary. We shall follow him to his
+place of rendezvous.
+
+He walked quickly by Pall Mall, and down Parliament Street, into the
+ancient quarter of Westminster, turned into a street near the Abbey, and
+from it into another that ran toward the river. Here were tall and dingy
+mansions, some of which were let out as chambers. In one of these, in a
+room over the front drawing-room, Mr. Levi received his West-end
+clients; and here, by appointment, he awaited Sir Richard Arden.
+
+The young baronet, a little paler, and with the tired look of a man who
+was made acquainted with care, enters this room, hot with the dry
+atmosphere of gas-light. With his back towards the door, and his feet on
+the fender, smoking, sits Mr. Levi. Sir Richard does not remove his hat,
+and he stands by the table, which he slaps once or twice sharply with
+his stick. Mr. Levi turns about, looking, in his own phrase, unusually
+"down in the mouth," and his big black eyes are glowing angrily.
+
+"Ho! Shir Richard Harden," he says, rising, "I did not think we was sho
+near the time. Izh it a bit too soon?"
+
+"A little later than the time I named."
+
+"Crikey! sho it izh."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER LVII.
+
+LEVI'S APOLOGUE.
+
+
+The room had once been a stately one. Three tall windows looked toward
+the street. Its cornices and door-cases were ponderous, and its
+furniture was heterogeneous, and presented the contrasts that might be
+expected in a broker's store. A second-hand Turkey carpet, in a very
+dusty state, covered part of the floor; and a dirty canvas sack lay by
+the door for people coming in to rub their feet on. The table was a
+round one, that turned on a pivot; it was oak, massive and carved, with
+drawers; there were two huge gilt arm-chairs covered with Utrecht
+velvet, a battered office-stool, and two or three bed-room chairs that
+did not match. There were two great iron safes on tressels. On the top
+of one was some valuable old china, and on the other an electrifying
+machine; a French harp with only half-a-dozen strings stood in the
+corner near the fire-place, and several dusty pictures of various sizes
+leaned with their faces against the wall. A jet of gas burned right over
+the table, and had blackened the ceiling by long use, and a dip candle,
+from which Mr. Levi lighted his cigars, burned in a brass candlestick on
+the hob of the empty grate. Over everything lay a dark grey drift of
+dust. And the two figures, the elegant young man in deep mourning, and
+the fierce vulgar little Jew, shimmering all over with chains, rings,
+pins, and trinkets, stood in a narrow circle of light, in strong relief
+against the dim walls of the large room.
+
+"So you _will_ want that bit o' money in hand?" said Mr. Levi.
+
+"I told you so."
+
+"Don't you think they'll ever get tired helpin' you, if you keep pulling
+alwaysh the wrong way?"
+
+"You said, this morning, I might reckon upon the help of that friend to
+any extent within reason," said Sir Richard, a little sourly.
+
+"Ye're goin' fashter than yer friendsh li-likesh; ye're goin'
+al-ash--ye're goin' a terrible lick, you are!" said Mr. Levi, solemnly.
+
+His usually pale face was a little flushed; he was speaking rather
+thickly, and there came at intervals a small hiccough, which indicated
+that he had been making merry.
+
+"That's my own affair, I fancy," replied Sir Richard, as haughtily as
+prudence would permit. "You are simply an agent."
+
+"Wish shome muff would take it off my hands; 'shan agenshy tha'll bring
+whoever takesh it more tr-tr-ouble than tin. By my shoul I'll not keepsh
+long! I'm blowsh if I'll be fool any longer!"
+
+"I'm to suppose, then, that you have made up your mind to act no longer
+for my friend, whoever that friend may be?" said Sir Richard, who boded
+no good to himself from that step.
+
+Mr. Levi nodded surlily.
+
+"Have you drawn those bills?"
+
+Mr. Levi gave the table a spin, unlocked a drawer, and threw two bills
+across to Sir Richard, who glancing at them said,--
+
+"The date is ridiculously short!"
+
+"How can I 'elp 't? and the interesht shlesh than nothin': sh-shunder
+the bank termsh f-or the besht paper going--I'm blesht if it ain't--it
+ain't f-fair interesh--the timesh short becaushe the partiesh,
+theysh--they shay they're 'ard hup, Shir, 'eavy sharge to pay hoff, and
+a big purchashe in Austriansh!"
+
+"My uncle, David Arden, I happen to know, is buying Austrian stock this
+week; and Lady May Penrose is to pay off a charge on her property next
+month."
+
+The Jew smiled mysteriously.
+
+"You may as well be frank with me," added Sir Richard Arden, pleased at
+having detected the coincidence, which was strengthened by his having,
+the day before, surprised his uncle in conference with Lady May.
+
+"If you don't like the time, why don't you try shomwhere else? why don't
+you try Lonclushe? There'sh a shwell! Two millionsh, if he's worth a
+pig! A year, or a month, 'twouldn't matter a tizhy to him, and you and
+him'sh ash thick ash two pickpockets!"
+
+"You're mistaken; I don't choose to have any transactions with Mr.
+Longcluse."
+
+There was a little pause.
+
+"By-the-bye, I saw in some morning paper--I forget which--a day or two
+ago, a letter attacking Mr. Longcluse for an alleged share in the
+bank-breaking combination; and there was a short reply from him."
+
+"I know, in the _Timesh_," interposed Levi.
+
+"Yes," said Arden, who, in spite of himself, was always drawn into talk
+with this fellow more than he intended; such was the force of the
+ambiguously confidential relations in which he found himself. "What is
+thought of that in the City?"
+
+"There'sh lotsh of opinionsh about it; not a shafe chap to quar'l with.
+If you rub Lonclushe this year, he'll tear you for itsh the next. He'sh
+a bish--a bish--a bit--bit of a bully, is Lonclushe, and don't alwaysh
+treat 'ish people fair. If you've quar'led with him, look oush--I shay,
+look oush!"
+
+"Give me the cheque," said Sir Richard, extending his fingers.
+
+"Pleashe, Shir Richard, accept them billsh," replied Levi, pushing an
+ink-stand toward him, "and I'll get our cheque for you."
+
+So Mr. Levi took the dip candle and opened one of the safes, displaying
+for a moment cases of old-fashioned jewellery, and a number of watches.
+I daresay Mr. Levi and his partner made advances on deposits.
+
+"Why don't you cut them confounded rasesh, Shir Richard? I'm bleshed if
+I didn't lose five pounds on the Derby myself! There'sh lotsh of field
+sportsh," he continued, approaching the table with his cheque-book.
+"Didn't you never shee a ferret kill a rabbit? It'sh a beautiful thing;
+it takesh it shomeway down the back, and bit by bit it mendsh itsh grip,
+moving up to-_wards_ the head. It _is_ really beautiful, and not a
+shound from either, only you'll see the rabbitsh big eyes lookin' sho
+wonderful! and the ferret hangsh on, swinging this way and that like a
+shna-ake--'tish wery pretty!--till he worksh hish grip up to where the
+backbone joinish in with the brain; and then in with itsh teeth, through
+the shkull! and the rabbit givesh a screetch like a child in a fit. Ha,
+ha, ha! I'm blesht if it ain't done ash clever ash a doctor could do it.
+'Twould make you laugh. That will do."
+
+And he took the bills from Sir Richard, and handed him two cheques, and
+as he placed the bills in the safe, and locked them up, he continued,--
+
+"It _ish_ uncommon pretty! I'd rayther shee it than a terrier on fifty
+rats. The rabbit's sho shimple--there'sh the fun of it--and looksh sho
+foolish; and every rabbit had besht look sharp," he continued, turning
+about as he put the keys in his pocket, and looking with his burning
+black eyes full on Sir Richard, "and not let a ferret get a grip
+anywhere; for if he getsh a good purchase, he'll never let go till he
+hash his teeth in his brain, and then he'sh off with a shqueak, and
+there's an end of him."
+
+"I can get notes for one of these cheques to-night?" said Sir Richard.
+
+"The shmall one, yesh, eashy," answered Mr. Levi. "I'm a bachelor," he
+added jollily, in something like a soliloquy, "and whenever I marry I'll
+be the better of it; and I'm no muff, and no cove can shay that I ever
+shplit on no one. And what do I care for Lonclushe? Not the snuff of
+this can'le!" And he snuffed the dip scornfully with his fingers, and
+flung the sparkling wick over the bannister, as he stood at the door, to
+light Sir Richard down the stairs.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER LVIII.
+
+THE BARON COMES TO TOWN.
+
+
+Weeks flew by. The season was in its last throes: the session was within
+a day or two of its death. Lady May drove out to Mortlake with a project
+in her head.
+
+Alice Arden was glad to see her.
+
+"I've travelled all this way," she said, "to make you come with me on
+Friday to the Abbey."
+
+"On Friday? Why Friday, dear?" answered Alice.
+
+"Because there is to be a grand oratorio of Handel's. It is for the
+benefit of the clergy's sons' school, and it is one that has not been
+performed in England for I forget how many years. It is _Saul_. You have
+heard the Dead March in Saul, of course; everyone has; but no one has
+ever heard the oratorio, and come you must. There shall be no one but
+ourselves--you and I, and your uncle and your brother to take care of
+us. They have promised to come; and Stentoroni is to take Saul, and they
+have the finest voices in Europe; and they say that Herr Von Waasen, the
+conductor, is the greatest musician in the world. There have been eight
+performances in that great room--oh! what do you call it?--while I was
+away; and now there is only to be this one, and I'm longing to hear it;
+but I won't go unless you come with me--and you need not dress. It
+begins at three o'clock, and ends at six, and you can come just as you
+are now; and an oratorio is really exactly the same as going to church,
+so you have no earthly excuse; and I'll send out my carriage at one for
+you; and you'll see, it will do you all the good in the world."
+
+Alice had her difficulties, but Lady May's vigorous onset overpowered
+them, and at length she consented.
+
+"Does your uncle come out here to see you?" asks Lady May.
+
+"Often; he's very kind," she replies.
+
+"And Grace Maubray?"
+
+"Oh, yes; I see her pretty often--that is, she has been here twice, I
+think--quite often enough."
+
+"Well, do you know, I never could admire Grace Maubray as I have heard
+other people do," says Lady May. "There is something harsh and bold,
+don't you think?--something a little cruel. She is a girl that I don't
+think could ever be in love."
+
+"I don't know that," says Alice.
+
+"Oh! really?" says Lady May, "and who is it?"
+
+"It is merely a suspicion," says Alice.
+
+"Yes--but you think she likes some one--do, like a darling, tell me who
+it is," urges Lady May, a little uneasily.
+
+"You must not tell anyone, because they would say it was sisterly
+vanity, but I think she likes Dick."
+
+"Sir Richard?" says Lady May, with as much indifference as she could.
+
+"Yes, I think she likes my brother."
+
+Lady May smiles painfully.
+
+"I always thought so," she says; "and he admires her, of course?"
+
+"No, I don't think he admires her at all. I'm certain he doesn't," said
+Alice.
+
+"Well, certainly he always does speak of her as if she belonged to
+Vivian Darnley," remarks Lady May, more happily.
+
+"So she does, and he to her, I hope," said Alice.
+
+"Hope?" repeated Lady May, interrogatively.
+
+"Yes--I think nothing could be more suitable."
+
+"Perhaps so; you know them better than I do."
+
+"Yes, and I still think Uncle David intends them for one another."
+
+"I would have asked Mr. Longcluse," Lady May begins, after a little
+interval, "to use his influence to get us good hearing-places, but he is
+in such disgrace--is he still, or is there any chance of his being
+forgiven?"
+
+"I told you, darling, I have really nothing to forgive--but I have a
+kind of fear of Mr. Longcluse--a fear I can't account for. It began, I
+think, with that affair that seemed to me like a piece of insanity, and
+made me angry and bewildered; and then there was a dream, in which I saw
+such a horrible scene, and fancied he had murdered Richard, and I could
+not get it out of my head. I suppose I am in a nervous state--and there
+were other things; and, altogether, I think of him with a kind of
+horror--and I find that Martha Tansey has an unaccountable dread of him
+exactly as I have; and even Uncle David says that he has a misgiving
+about him that he can't get rid of, or explain."
+
+"I can't think, however, that he is a ghost or even a malefactor," said
+Lady May, "or anything worse than a very agreeable, good-natured person.
+I never knew anything more zealous than his good-nature on the occasion
+I told you of; and he has always approached you with so much devotion
+and respect--he seemed to me so sensitive, and to watch your very looks;
+I really think that a frown from you would have almost killed him."
+
+Alice sighs, and looked wearily through the window, as if the subject
+bored her; and she said listlessly,--
+
+"Oh, yes, he was kind, and gentlemanlike, and sang nicely, I grant you
+everything; but--there is something ominous about him, and I hate to
+hear him mentioned, and with my consent I'll never meet him more."
+
+Connected with the musical venture which the ladies were discussing, a
+remarkable person visited London. He had a considerable stake in its
+success. He was a penurious German, reputed wealthy, who ran over from
+Paris to complete arrangements about ticket-takers and treasurer, so as
+to ensure a system of check, such as would make it next to impossible
+for the gentlemen his partners to rob him. This person was the Baron
+Vanboeren.
+
+Mr. Blount had an intimation of this visit from Paris, and Mr. David
+Arden invited him to dine, of which invitation he took absolutely no
+notice; and then Mr. Arden called upon him in his lodging in St.
+Martin's Lane. There he saw him, this man, possibly the keeper of the
+secret which he had for twenty years of his life been seeking for. If he
+had a feudal ideal of this baron, he was disappointed. He beheld a
+short, thick man, with an enormous head and grizzled hair, coarse pug
+features, very grimy skin, and a pair of fierce black eyes, that never
+rested for a moment, and swept the room from corner to corner with a
+rapid and unsettled glance that was full of fierce energy.
+
+"The Baron Vanboeren?" inquires Uncle David courteously.
+
+The baron, who is smoking, nods gruffly.
+
+"My name is Arden--David Arden. I left my card two days ago, and having
+heard that your stay was but for a few days, I ventured to send you a
+very hurried invitation."
+
+The baron grunts and nods again.
+
+"I wrote a note to beg the pleasure of a very short interview, and you
+have been so good as to admit me."
+
+The baron smokes on.
+
+"I am told that you possibly are possessed of information which I have
+long been seeking in vain."
+
+Another nod.
+
+"Monsieur Lebas, the unfortunate little Frenchman who was murdered here
+in London, was, I believe, in your employment?"
+
+The baron here had a little fit of coughing.
+
+Uncle David accepted this as an admission.
+
+"He was acquainted with Mr. Longcluse?"
+
+"Was he?" says the baron, removing and replacing his pipe quickly.
+
+"Will you, Baron Vanboeren, be so good as to give me any information you
+possess respecting Mr. Longcluse? It is not, I assure you, from mere
+curiosity I ask these questions, and I hope you will excuse the trouble
+I give you."
+
+The baron took his pipe from his mouth, and blew out a thin stream of
+smoke.
+
+"I have heard," said he, in short, harsh tones, "since I came to London,
+nosing but good of Mr. Longcluse. I have ze greadest respect for zat
+excellent gendleman. I will say nosing bud zat--ze greadest respect."
+
+"You knew him in Paris, I believe?" urges Uncle David.
+
+"Nosing but zat--ze greadest respect," repeats the baron. "I sink him a
+very worzy gendleman."
+
+"No doubt, but I venture to ask whether you were acquainted with Mr.
+Longcluse in Paris?"
+
+"Zere are a gread many beoble in Paris. I have nosing to say of Mr.
+Longcluse, nosing ad all, only he is a man of high rebudation."
+
+And on completing this sentence the baron replaced his pipe, and
+delivered several rapid puffs.
+
+"I took the liberty of enclosing a letter from a friend explaining who I
+am, and that the questions I should entreat you to answer are not
+prompted by any idle or impertinent curiosity; perhaps, then, you would
+be so good as to say whether you know anything of a person named Yelland
+Mace, who visited Paris some twenty years since?"
+
+"I am in London, Sir, ubon my business, and no one else's. I am sinking
+of myself, and not about Mace or Longcluse, and I will not speak about
+eizer of zem. I am well baid for my dime. I will nod waste my dime on
+dalking--I will nod," he continues, warming as he proceeds; "nosing
+shall induce me do say one word aboud zoze gendlemen. I dake my oas I'll
+not, mein Gott! What do you mean by asking me aboud zem?"
+
+He looks positively ferocious as he delivers this expostulation.
+
+"My request must be more unreasonable than it appeared to me."
+
+"Nosing can be more unreasonable!"
+
+"And I am to understand that you positively object to giving me any
+information respecting the persons I have named?"
+
+The baron appeared extremely uneasy. He trotted to the door on his short
+legs, and looked out. Returning, he shut the door carefully. His grimy
+countenance, under the action of fear, assumes an expression peculiarly
+forbidding; and he said, with angry volubility--
+
+"Zis visit must end, Sir, zis moment. Donnerwesser! I will nod be
+combromised by you. But if you bromise as a Christian, ubon your honour,
+never to mention what I say----"
+
+"Never, upon my honour."
+
+"Nor to say you have talked with me here in London----"
+
+"Never."
+
+"I will tell you that I have no objection to sbeak wis you, _privately_
+in Paris, whenever you are zere--now, now! zat is all. I will not have
+one ozer word--you shall not stay one ozer minude."
+
+He opens the door and wags his head peremptorily, and points with his
+pipe to the lobby.
+
+"You'll not forget your promise, Baron, when I call? for visit you I
+will."
+
+"I never forget nosing. Monsieur Arden, will you go or _nod_?"
+
+"Farewell, Sir," says his visitor, too much excited by the promise
+opened to him, for the moment to apprehend what was ridiculous in the
+scene or in the brutality of the baron.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER LIX.
+
+TWO OLD FRIENDS MEET AND PART.
+
+
+When he was gone the Baron Vanboeren sat down and panted; his pipe had
+gone out, and he clutched it in his hand like a weapon and continued for
+some minutes, in the good old phrase, very much disordered.
+
+"That old fool," he mutters, in his native German, "won't come near me
+again while I remain in London."
+
+This assurance was, I suppose, consolatory, for the baron repeated it
+several times; and then bounced to his feet, and made a few hurried
+preparations for an appearance in the streets. He put on a short cloak
+which had served him for the last thirty years, and a preposterous hat;
+and with a thick stick in his hand, and a cigar lighted, sallied forth,
+square and short, to make Mr. Longcluse a visit by appointment.
+
+By this time the lamps were lighted. There had been a performance of
+_Saul_, a very brilliant success, although it pleased the baron to
+grumble over it that day. He had not returned from the great room where
+it had taken place more than an hour, when David Arden had paid his
+brief visit. He was now hastening to an interview which he thought much
+more momentous. Few persons who looked at that vulgar seedy figure,
+strutting through the mud, would have thought that the thread-bare black
+cloak, over which a brown autumnal tint had spread, and the monstrous
+battered felt hat, in which a costermonger would scarcely have gone
+abroad, covered a man worth a hundred and fifty thousand pounds.
+
+Man is mysteriously so constructed that he cannot abandon himself to
+selfishness, which is the very reverse of heavenly love, without in the
+end contracting some incurable insanity; and that insanity of the higher
+man constitutes, to a great extent, his mental death. The Baron
+Vanboeren's insanity was avarice; and his solitary expenses caused him
+all the sordid anxieties which haunt the unfortunate gentleman who must
+make both ends meet on five-and-thirty pounds a year.
+
+Though not _sui profusus_, he was _alieni appetens_ in a very high
+degree; and his visit to Mr. Longcluse was not one of mere affection.
+
+Mr. Longcluse was at home in his study. The baron was instantly shown
+in. Mr. Longcluse, smiling, with both hands extended to grasp his,
+advances to meet him.
+
+"My dear Baron, what an unexpected pleasure! I could scarcely believe my
+eyes when I read your note. So you have a stake in this musical
+speculation, and though it is very late, and, of course, everything at a
+disadvantage, I have to congratulate you on an immense success."
+
+The baron shrugs, shakes his head, and rolls his eyes dismally.
+
+"Ah, my friend, ze exbenses are enormous."
+
+"And the receipts still more so," says Longcluse cheerfully; "you must
+be making, among you, a mint of money."
+
+"Ah! Monsieur Longcluse, id is nod what it should be! zay are all such
+sieves and robbers! I will never escape under a loss of a sousand
+bounds."
+
+"You must be cheerful, my dear Baron. You shall dine with me to-day.
+I'll take you with me to half a dozen places of amusement worth seeing
+after dinner. To-morrow morning you shall run down with me to
+Brighton--my yacht is there--and when you have had enough of that, we
+shall run up again and have a whitebait dinner at Greenwich; and come
+into town and see those fellows, Markham and the other, that poor little
+Lebas saw play, the night he was murdered. You must see them play the
+return match, so long postponed. Next day we shall----"
+
+"Bardon, Monsieur, bardon! I am doo old. I have no spirits."
+
+"What, not enough to see a game of billiards between Markham and Hood!
+Why, Lebas was charmed so far as he saw it, poor fellow, with their
+play."
+
+"No, no, no, no, Monsieur; a sousand sanks, no, bardon, I cannod," says
+the baron. "I do not like billiards, and your friends have not found it
+a lucky game."
+
+"Well, if you don't care for billiards, we'll find something else,"
+replies hospitable Mr. Longcluse.
+
+"Nosing else, nosing else," answers the baron hastily. "I hade all zese
+sings, ze seatres, ze bubbedshows, and all ze ozer amusements, I give
+you my oas. Did you read my liddle node?"
+
+"I did indeed, and it amused me beyond measure," says Longcluse
+joyously.
+
+"Amuse!" repeats the baron, "how so?"
+
+"Because it is so diverting; one might almost fancy it was meant to ask
+me for fifteen hundred pounds."
+
+"I have lost, by zis sing, a vast deal more zan zat."
+
+"And, my dear Baron, what on earth have I to do with that?"
+
+"I am an old friend, a good friend, a true friend," says the baron,
+while his fierce little eyes sweep the walls, from corner to corner,
+with quivering rapidity. "You would not like to see me quide in a
+corner. You're the richest man in England, almost; what's one sousand
+five hundred to you? I have not wridden to you, or come to England, dill
+now. You have done nosing for your old friend yet: what are you going to
+give him?"
+
+"Not as much as I gave Lebas," said Longcluse, eyeing him askance, with
+a smile.
+
+"I don't know what you mean."
+
+"Not a napoleon, not a franc, not a sou."
+
+"You are jesding; sink, sink, sink, Monsieur, what a friend I have been
+and _am_ to you."
+
+"So I do, my dear Baron, and consider how I show my gratitude. Have I
+ever given a hint to the French police about the identity of the clever
+gentleman who managed the little tunnel through which a river of
+champagne flowed into Paris, under the barrier, duty free? Have I ever
+said a word about the confiscated jewels of the Marchioness de la
+Sarnierre? Have I ever asked how the Comte de Loubourg's little boy is,
+or directed an unfriendly eye upon the conscientious physician who
+extricates ladies and gentlemen from the consequences of late hours,
+nervous depression, and fifty other things that war against good
+digestion and sound sleep? Come, come, my good Baron, whenever we come
+to square accounts, the balance will stand very heavily in my favour. I
+don't want to press for a settlement, but if you urge it, by Heaven,
+I'll make you pay the uttermost farthing!"
+
+Longcluse laughs cynically. The baron looks very angry. His face darkens
+to a leaden hue. The fingers which he plunged into his snuff-box are
+trembling. He takes two or three great pinches of snuff before speaking.
+
+Mr. Longcluse watches all these symptoms of his state of mind with a
+sardonic enjoyment, beneath which, perhaps, is the sort of suspense with
+which a beast-tamer watches the eye of the animal whose fury he excites
+only to exhibit the coercion which he exercises through its fears, and
+who is for a moment doubtful whether its terrors or its fury may
+prevail.
+
+The baron's restless eyes roll wickedly. He puts his hand into his
+pocket irresolutely, and crumbles some papers there. There was no
+knowing, for some seconds, what turn things might take. But if he had
+for a moment meditated a crisis, he thought better of it. He breaks into
+a fierce laugh, and extends his hand to Mr. Longcluse, who as frankly
+places his own in it, and the baron shakes it vehemently. And Mr.
+Longcluse and he laugh boisterously and oddly together. The baron takes
+another great pinch of snuff, and then he says, sponging out as it were,
+as an ignored parenthesis, the critical part of their conversation--
+
+"No, no, I sink not; no, no, surely not. I am not fit for all zose
+amusements. I cannot knog aboud as I used; an old fellow, you know:
+beace and tranquilidy. No, I cannot dine with you. I dine with
+Stentoroni to-morrow; to-day I have dined with our _tenore_. How well
+you look! What nose, what tees, what chin! I am proud of you. We bart
+good friends, _bon soir_, Monsieur Longcluse, farewell. I am already a
+liddle lade."
+
+"Farewell, dear Baron. How can I thank you enough for this kind meeting?
+Try one of my cigars as you go home."
+
+The baron, not being a proud man, took half-a-dozen, and with a final
+shaking of hands these merry gentlemen parted, and Longcluse's door
+closed for ever on the Baron Vanboeren.
+
+"That bloated spider?" mused Mr. Longcluse. "How many flies has he
+sucked! It is another matter when spiders take to catching wasps."
+
+Every man of energetic passions has within him a principle of
+self-destruction. Longcluse had his. It had expressed itself in his
+passion for Alice Arden. That passion had undergone a wondrous change,
+but it was imperishable in its new as in its pristine state.
+
+This gentleman was in the dumps so soon as he was left alone. Always
+uncertainty; always the sword of Damocles; always the little reminders
+of perdition, each one contemptible, but each one in succession touching
+the same set of nerves, and like the fall of the drop of water in the
+inquisition, _non vi, sed sæpe cadendo_, gradually heightening monotony
+into excitement, and excitement into frenzy. Living always with a sense
+of the unreality of life and the vicinity of death, with a certain stern
+tremor of the heart, like that of a man going into action, no wonder if
+he sometimes sickened of his bargain with Fate, and thought life
+purchased too dear on the terms of such a lease.
+
+Longcluse bolted his door, unlocked his desk, and there what do we see?
+Six or seven miniatures--two enamels, the rest on ivory--all by
+different hands; some English, some Parisian; very exquisite, some of
+them. Every one was Alice Arden. Little did she dream that such a
+gallery existed. How were they taken? Photographs are the colourless
+phantoms from which these glowing life-like beauties start.
+Tender-hearted Lady May has in confidence given him, from time to time,
+several of these from her album; he has induced foreign artists to visit
+London, and managed opportunities by which, at parties, in theatres, and
+I am sorry to say even in church, these clever persons succeeded in
+studying from the life, and learning all the tints which now glow before
+him. If I had mentioned what this little collection cost him, you would
+have opened your eyes. The Baron Vanboeren would have laughed and cursed
+him with hilarious derision, and a money-getting Christian would have
+been quite horror-struck, on reading the scandalous row of figures.
+
+Each miniature he takes in turn, and looks at for a long time, holding
+it in both hands, his hands resting on the desk, his face inclined and
+sad, as if looking down into the coffin of his darling. One after the
+other he puts them by, and returns to his favourite one; and at last he
+shuts it up also, with a snap, and places it with the rest in the dark,
+under lock and key.
+
+He leaned back and laid his thin hand across his eyes. Was he looking at
+an image that came out in the dark on the retina of memory? Or was he
+shedding tears?
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER LX.
+
+"SAUL."
+
+
+The day arrived on which Alice Arden had agreed to go with Lady May to
+Westminster Abbey, to hear the masterly performance of _Saul_. When it
+came to the point, she would have preferred staying at home; but that
+was out of the question. Every one has experienced that ominous
+forboding which overcomes us sometimes with a shapeless forecasting of
+evil. It was with that vague misgiving that she had all the morning
+looked forward to her drive to town, and the long-promised oratorio. It
+was a dark day, and there was a thunderous weight in the air, and the
+melancholy atmosphere deepened her gloom.
+
+Her Uncle David arrived in Lady May's carriage, to take care of her.
+They were to call at Lady May's house, where its mistress and Sir
+Richard Arden awaited them.
+
+A few kind words followed Uncle David's affectionate greeting, as they
+drove into town. He did not observe that Alice was unusually low. He
+seemed to have something not very pleasant himself to think upon, and he
+became silent for some time.
+
+"I want," said he at last, looking up suddenly, "to give you a little
+advice, and now mind what I say. Don't sign any legal paper without
+consulting me, and don't make any promise to Richard. It is just
+possible--I hope he may not, but it is just possible--that he may ask
+you to deal in his favour with your charge on the Yorkshire estate. Do
+you tell him if he should, that you have promised me faithfully not to
+do anything in the matter, except as I shall advise. He may, as I said,
+never say a word on the subject, but in any case my advice will do you
+no harm. I have had bitter experience, my dear, of which I begin to grow
+rather ashamed, of the futility of trying to assist Richard. I have
+thrown away a great deal of money upon him, utterly thrown it away. _I_
+can afford it, but _you_ cannot, and you shall not lose your little
+provision." And here he changed the subject of his talk, I suppose to
+avoid the possibility of discussion. "How very early the autumn has set
+in this year! It is the extraordinary heat of the summer. The elms in
+Mortlake are quite yellow already."
+
+And so they talked on, and returned no more to the subject at which he
+had glanced. But the few words her uncle had spoken gave Alice ample
+matter to think on, and she concluded that Richard was in trouble again.
+
+Lady May did not delay them a moment, and Sir Richard got into the
+carriage after her, with the tickets in his charge. Very devoted, Alice
+thought him, to Lady May, who appeared more than usually excited and
+happy.
+
+We follow our party without comment into the choir, where they take
+possession of their seats. The chorus glide into their places like
+shadows, and the vast array of instrumental musicians as noiselessly
+occupy the seats before their desks. The great assembly is marshalled in
+a silence almost oppressive, but which is perhaps the finest preparation
+for the wondrous harmonies to come.
+
+And now the grand and unearthly oratorio has commenced. Each person in
+our little group hears it with different ears. I wonder whether any two
+persons in that vast assembly heard it precisely alike. Sir Richard
+Arden, having many things to think about, hears it intermittently as he
+would have listened to a bore, and with a secret impatience. Lady May
+hears it not much better, but felt as if she could have sat there for
+ever. Old David Arden enjoyed music, and is profoundly delighted with
+this. But his thoughts also begin to wander, for as the mighty basso
+singing the part of Saul delivers the words,
+
+    "I would that, by thy art, thou bring me up
+     The man whom I shall name,"
+
+David Arden's eye lighted, with a little shock, upon the enormous head
+and repulsive features of the Baron Vanboeren. What a mask for a witch!
+The travesti lost its touch of the ludicrous, in Uncle David's eye, by
+virtue of the awful interest he felt in the possible revelations of that
+ugly magician, who could, he fancied, by a word, call up the image of
+Yelland Mace. The baron is sitting about the steps in front of him, face
+to face. He wonders he has not seen him till now. His head is a little
+thrown back, displaying his short bull neck. His restless eyes are fixed
+now in a sullen reverie. His calculation as to the exact money value of
+the audience is over; he is polling them no longer, and his unresting
+brain is projecting pictures into the darkness of the future.
+
+His face in a state of apathy was ill-favoured and wicked, and now
+lighted with a cadaverous effect, by the dull purplish halo which marks
+the blending of the feeble daylight, with the glow of the lamp that is
+above him.
+
+The baron had seen and recognised David Arden, and a train of thoughts
+horribly incongruous with the sacred place was moving through his brain.
+As he looks on, impassive, the great basso rings out--
+
+    "If heaven denies thee aid, seek it from hell."
+
+And the soprano sends forth the answering incantation, wild and
+piercing--
+
+    "Infernal spirits, by whose power
+       Departed ghosts in living forms appear,
+     Add horror to the midnight hour,
+       And chill the boldest hearts with fear;
+     To this stranger's wondering eyes
+       Let the man he calls for rise."
+
+If Mr. Longcluse had been near, he might have made his own sad
+application of the air so powerfully sung by the alto to whom was
+committed the part of David--
+
+    "Such haughty beauties rather move
+     Aversion, than engage our love."
+
+He might with an undivulged anguish have heard the adoring strain--
+
+    "O lovely maid! thy form beheld
+       Above all beauty charms our eyes,
+     Yet still within that form concealed,
+       Thy mind a greater beauty lies."
+
+In a rapture Alice listened on. The famous "Dead March" followed,
+interposing its melancholy instrumentation, and arresting the vocal
+action of the drama by the pomp of that magnificent dirge.
+
+To her the whole thing seemed stupendous, unearthly, glorious beyond
+expression. She almost trembled with excitement. She was glad she had
+come. Tears of ecstasy were in her eyes.
+
+And now, at length, the three parts are over, and the crowd begin to
+move outward. The organ peals as they shuffle slowly along, checked
+every minute, and then again resuming their slow progress, pushing on in
+those little shuffling steps of two or three inches by which well-packed
+crowds get along, every one wondering why they can't all step out
+together, and what the people in front can be about.
+
+In two several channels, through two distinct doors, this great human
+reservoir floods out. Sir Richard has undertaken the task of finding
+Lady May's carriage, and bringing it to a point where they might escape
+the tedious waiting at the door; and David Arden, with Lady May on one
+arm and Alice on the other, is getting on slowly in the thick of this
+well-dressed and aristocratic mob.
+
+"I think, Alice," said Uncle David, "you would be more out of the crush,
+and less likely to lose me, if you were to get quite close behind us--do
+you see?--between Lady May and me, and hold me fast."
+
+The pressure of the stream was so unequal, and a front of three so wide,
+that Alice gladly adopted the new arrangement, and with her hand on her
+uncle's arm, felt safer and more comfortable than before.
+
+This slow march, inch by inch, is strangely interrupted. A well-known
+voice, close to her ear, says--
+
+"Miss Arden, a word with you."
+
+A pale face, with flat nose and Mephistophelian eyebrows, was stooping
+near her. Mr. Longcluse's thin lips were close to her ear. She started a
+little aside, and tried to stop. Recovering, she stretched her hand to
+reach her uncle, and found that there were strangers between them.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER LXI.
+
+A WAKING DREAM.
+
+
+There is something in that pale face and spectral smile that fascinates
+the terrified girl; she cannot take her eyes off him. His dark eyes are
+near hers; his lips are still close to her; his arm is touching her
+dress; he leans his face to her, and talks on, in an icy tone little
+above a whisper, and an articulation so sharply distinct that it seems
+to pain her ear.
+
+"The oratorio!" he continued: "the music! The words, here and there are
+queer--a little sinister--eh? There are better words and wilder
+music--you shall hear them some day! Saul had his evil spirit, and a bad
+family have theirs--ay, they have a demon who is always near, and shapes
+their lives for them; they don't know it, but, sooner or later justice
+catches them. Suppose _I_ am the demon of _your_ family--it is very
+funny, isn't it? I tried to serve you both, but it wouldn't do. I'll set
+about the other thing now: the evil genius of a bad family; I'm
+appointed to that. It almost makes me laugh--such cross-purposes! You're
+frightened? That's a pity; you should have thought of that before. It
+requires some nerve to fight a man like me. I don't threaten you, mind,
+but you are frightened. There is such a thing as getting a dangerous
+fellow bound over to keep the peace. Try that. I should like to have a
+talk with you before his worship in the police-court, across the table,
+with a corps of clever newspaper reporters sitting there. What fun in
+the _Times_ and all the rest next morning."
+
+It is plain to Miss Arden that Mr. Longcluse is speaking all this time
+with suppressed fury, and his countenance expresses a sort of smiling
+hatred that horrifies her.
+
+"I'm not bad at speaking my mind," he continues. "It is unfortunate that
+I am so well thought of and listened to in London. Yes, people mind what
+I say a good deal. I rather think they'll choose to believe _my_ story.
+But there's another way, if you don't like that. Your brother's not
+afraid--_he_'ll protect you. Tell your brother what a miscreant I am,
+and send him to me--do, pray! Nothing on earth I should like better than
+to have a talk with that young gentleman. Do pray, send him, I entreat.
+He'd like satisfaction--ha! ha!--and, by Heaven, I'll give it him! Tell
+him to get his pistols ready; he shall have his shop! Let him come to
+Boulogne, or where he likes--I'll stand it--and I don't think he'll need
+to pay his way back again. He'll stay in France; he'll not walk in at
+your hall-door, and call for luncheon, I promise you. Ha! ha! ha!"
+
+This pale man enjoys her terror cruelly.
+
+"I'm not worthy to speak to you, I believe--eh? That's odd, for the time
+isn't far off when you'll pray to God I may have mercy on you. You had
+no business to encourage me. I'm afraid the crowd is getting on very
+slowly, but I'll try to entertain you: you _are_ such a good listener!"
+
+Miss Arden often wondered afterwards at her own passiveness through all
+this. There were, no doubt, close by, many worthy citizens, fathers of
+families, who would have taken her for a few minutes under their
+protection with honest alacrity. But it was a fascination; her state was
+cataleptic: and she could no more escape than the bird that is throbbing
+in the gaze of a snake. The cold murmur went distinctly on and on:
+
+"Your brother will probably think I should treat you more ceremoniously.
+Don't you agree with him? Pray, do complain to him. Pray, send him to
+me, and I'll thank him for his share in this matter. He wanted to make
+it a match between us--I'm speaking coarsely, for the sake of
+distinctness--till a title turned up. What has become of the title,
+by-the-bye?--I don't see him here. The peer wasn't in the running, after
+all: didn't even start! Ha! ha! ha! Remember me to your brother, pray,
+and tell him the day will come when he'll not need to be reminded of me:
+I'll take care of that. And so Sir Richard is doomed to disappointment!
+It is a world of disappointment. The earl is nowhere! And the proudest
+family on earth--what is left of it--looks a little foolish. And well it
+may: it has many follies to expiate. You had no business encouraging me,
+and you are foolish enough to be terribly afraid now--ha! ha! ha! Too
+late, eh? I daresay you think I'll punish you! Not I! Nothing of the
+sort! I'll never punish anyone. Why should I take that trouble about
+you. Not I: not even your brother. Fate does that. Fate has always been
+kind to me, and hit my enemies pretty hard. You had no business
+encouraging me. Remember this: the day is not far off when you will
+_both_ rue the hour you threw me over!"
+
+She is gazing helplessly into that dreadful face. There is a cruel
+elation in it. He looks on her, I think, with admiration. Mixed with his
+hatred, did there remain a fraction of love?
+
+On a sudden the voice, which was the only sound she heard, was in her
+ear no longer. The face which had transfixed her gaze was gone.
+Longcluse had apparently pushed a way for her to her friends, for she
+found herself again next her Uncle David. Holding his arm fast, she
+looked round quickly for a moment: she saw Mr. Longcluse nowhere. She
+felt on the point of fainting. The scene must have lasted a shorter time
+than she supposed, for her uncle had not missed her.
+
+"My dear, how pale you look! Are you tired?" exclaims Lady May, when
+they have come to a halt at the door.
+
+"Yes, indeed, so she does. Are you ill, dear?" added her uncle.
+
+"No, nothing, thanks, only the crowd. I shall be better immediately."
+And so waiting in the air, near the door, they were soon joined by Sir
+Richard, and in his carriage he and she drove home to Mortlake. Lady
+May, taking hers, went to a tea at old Lady Elverstone's; and David
+Arden, bidding them good-bye, walked homeward across the park.
+
+Richard had promised to spend the evening at Mortlake with her, and side
+by side they were driving out to that sad and sombre scene. As they
+entered the shaded road upon which the great gate of Mortlake opens, the
+setting sun streamed through the huge trunks of the trees, and tinted
+the landscape with a subdued splendour.
+
+"I can't imagine, dear Alice, why you _will_ stay here. It is enough to
+kill you," says Sir Richard, looking out peevishly on the picturesque
+woodlands of Mortlake, and interrupting a long silence. "You never can
+recover your spirits while you stay here. There is Lady May going all
+over the world--I forget where, but she will be at Naples--and she
+absolutely longs to take you with her; and you won't go! I really
+sometimes think you want to make yourself melancholy mad."
+
+"I don't know," said she, waking herself from a reverie in which,
+against the dark background of the empty arches she had left, she still
+saw the white, wicked face that had leaned over her, and heard the low
+murmured stream of insult and menace. "I'm not sure that I shall not be
+worse anywhere else. I don't feel energy to make a change. I can't bear
+the idea of meeting people. By-and-by, in a little time, it will be
+different. For the present, quiet is what I like best. But you, Dick,
+are not looking well, you seem so over-worked and anxious. You really do
+want a little holiday. Why don't you go to Scotland to shoot, or take a
+few weeks' yachting? All your business must be pretty well settled now."
+
+"It will never be settled," he said, a little sourly. "I assure you
+there never was property in such a mess--I mean leases and everything.
+Such drudgery, you have no idea; and I owe a good deal. It has not done
+me any good. I'd rather be as I was before that miserable Derby. I'd
+gladly exchange it all for a clear annuity of a thousand a year."
+
+"Oh! my dear Dick, you can't mean that! All the northern property, and
+this, and Morley?"
+
+"I hate to talk about it. I'm tired of it already. I have been so
+unlucky, so foolish, and if I had not found a very good friend, I should
+have been utterly ruined by that cursed race; and he has been aiding me
+very generously, on rather easy terms, in some difficulties that have
+followed; and you know I had to raise money on the estate before all
+this happened, and have had to make a very heavy mortgage, and I am
+getting into such a mess--a confusion, I mean--and really I should have
+sold the estates, if it had not been for my unknown friend, for I don't
+know his name."
+
+"What friend?"
+
+"The friend who has aided me through my troubles--the best friend I ever
+met, unless it be as I half suspect. Has anyone spoken to you lately, in
+a way to lead you to suppose that he, or anyone else among our friends,
+has been lending me a helping hand?"
+
+"Yes, as we were driving into town to-day, Uncle David told me so
+distinctly; but I am not sure that I ought to have mentioned it. I
+fancy, indeed," she added, as she remembered the reflection with which
+it was accompanied, "that he meant it as a secret, so you must not get
+me into disgrace with him by appearing to know more than he has told you
+himself."
+
+"No, certainly," said Richard; "and he said it was he who lent it?"
+
+"Yes, distinctly."
+
+"Well, I all but knew it before. Of course it is very kind of him. But
+then, you know he is very wealthy; he does not feel it; and he would not
+for the world that our house should lose its position. I think he would
+rather sell the coat off his back, than that our name should be
+slurred."
+
+Sir Richard was pleased that he had received this light in corroboration
+of his suspicions. He was glad to have ascertained that the powerful
+motives which he had conjectured were actually governing the conduct of
+David Arden, although for obvious reasons he did not choose that his
+nephew should be aware of his weakness.
+
+The carriage drew up at the hall-door. The old house in the evening
+beams, looked warm and cheery, and from every window in its broad front
+flamed the reflection which showed like so many hospitable winter fires.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER LXII.
+
+LOVE AND PLAY.
+
+
+"Here we are, Alice," says Sir Richard, as they entered the hall. "We'll
+have a good talk this evening. We'll make the best of everything; and I
+don't see if Uncle David chooses to prevent it, why the old ship should
+founder after all."
+
+They are now in the house. It is hard to get rid of the sense of
+constraint that, in his father's time, he always experienced within
+those walls; to feel that the old influence is exorcised and utterly
+gone, and that he is himself absolute master where so lately he hardly
+ventured to move on tip-toe.
+
+They did not talk so much as Sir Richard had anticipated. There were
+upon his mind some things that weighed heavily. He had got from Levi a
+list of the advances made by his luckily found friend, and the total was
+much heavier than he had expected. He began to fear that he might
+possibly exceed the limits which his uncle must certainly have placed
+somewhere. He might not, indeed, allow him to suffer the indignity of a
+bankruptcy; but he would take a very short and unpleasant course with
+him. He would seize his rents, and, with a friendly roughness, put his
+estates to nurse, and send the prodigal on a Childe Harold's pilgrimage
+of five or six years, with an allowance, perhaps, of some three hundred
+a year, which in his frugal estimate of a young man's expenditure, would
+be handsome.
+
+While he was occupied in these ruminations, Alice cared not to break the
+silence. It was a very unsociable _tête-à-tête_. Alice had a secret of
+her own to brood over. If anything could have made Longcluse now more
+terrible to her imagination, it would have been a risk of her brother's
+knowing anything of the language he had dared to hold to her. She knew
+from her brother's own lips, that he was a duellist; and she was also
+persuaded that Mr. Longcluse was, in his own playful and sinister
+phrase, very literally a "miscreant." His face, ever since that
+interview, was always at her right side, with its cruel pallor, and the
+vindictive sarcasm of lip and tone. How she wished that she had never
+met that mysterious man! What she would have given to be exempted from
+his hatred, and blotted from his remembrance!
+
+One object only was in her mind, distinctly, with respect to that
+person. She was, thank God, quite beyond his power. But men, she knew,
+live necessarily a life so public, and have so many points of contact,
+that better opportunities present themselves for the indulgence of a
+masculine grudge; and she trembled at the thought of a collision. Why,
+then, should not Dick seek a reconciliation with him, and, by any
+honourable means, abate that terrible enmity.
+
+"I have been thinking, Dick, that, as Uncle David makes the interest he
+takes in your affairs a secret, and you can't consult him, it would be
+very well indeed if you could find some one else able to advise, who
+would consult with you when you wished."
+
+"Of course, I should be only too glad," says Sir Richard, yawning and
+smiling as well as he could at the same time; "but an adviser one can
+depend on in such matters, my dear child, is not to be picked up every
+day."
+
+"Poor papa, I think, was very wise in choosing people of that kind.
+Uncle David, I know, said that he made wonderfully good bargains about
+his mortgages, or whatever they are called."
+
+"I daresay--I don't know--he was always complaining, and always changing
+them," says Sir Richard. "But if you can introduce me to a person who
+can disentangle all my complications, and take half my cares off my
+shoulders, I'll say you are a very wise little woman indeed."
+
+"I only know this--that poor papa had the highest opinion of Mr.
+Longcluse, and thought he was the cleverest person, and the most able to
+assist, of any one he knew."
+
+Sir Richard Arden hears this with a stare of surprise.
+
+"My dear Alice, you seem to forget everything. Why, Longcluse and I are
+at deadly feud. He hates me implacably. There never could be anything
+but enmity between us. Not that I care enough about _him_ to hate him,
+but I have the worst opinion of him. I have heard the most shocking
+stories about him lately. They insinuate that he committed a murder! I
+told you of that jealousy and disappointment, about a girl he was in
+love with and wanted to marry, and it ended in _murder_! I'm told he had
+the reputation of being a most unscrupulous villain. They say he was
+engaged in several conspiracies to pigeon young fellows. He was the
+utter ruin, they say, of young Thornley, the poor muff who shot himself
+some years ago; and he was thought to be a principal proprietor of that
+gaming-house in Vienna, where they found all the apparatus for cheating
+so cleverly contrived."
+
+"But are any of these things proved?" urges Miss Arden.
+
+"I don't suppose he would be at large if they were," says Sir Richard,
+with a smile. "I only know that I believe them."
+
+"Well, Dick, you know I reminded you before--you used not to believe
+those stories till you quarrelled with him."
+
+"Why, what do you want, Alice?" he exclaims, looking hard at her. "What
+on earth can you mean? And what can possibly make you take an interest
+in the character of such a ruffian?"
+
+Alice's face grew pale under his gaze. She cleared her voice and looked
+down; and then she looked full at him, with burning eyes, and said--
+
+"It is because I am afraid of him, and think he may do you some dreadful
+injury, unless you are again on terms with him. I can't get it out of my
+head; and I daresay I am wrong, but I am sure I am miserable."
+
+She burst into tears.
+
+"Why, you darling little fool, what harm can he do me?" said Richard
+fondly, throwing his arms about her neck and kissing her, as he laughed
+tenderly. "He exhausted his utmost malice when he angrily refused to
+lend me a shilling in my extremity, or to be of the smallest use to me,
+at a moment when he might have saved me, without risk to himself, by
+simply willing it. _I_ didn't ask him, you may be sure. An officious,
+foolish little friend, doing all, of course, for the best, _did_,
+without once consulting me, or giving me a voice in the matter, until he
+had effectually put his foot in it, as I told you. I would not for
+anything on earth have applied to him, I need not tell you; but it was
+done, and it only shows with what delight he would have seen me ruined,
+as, in fact, I should have been, had not my own relations taken the
+matter up. I do believe, Alice, the best thing I could do for myself and
+for you would be to marry," he says, a little suddenly, after a
+considerable silence.
+
+Alice looks at him, doubtful whether he is serious.
+
+"I really mean it. It is the only honest way of making or mending a
+fortune now-a-days."
+
+"Well, Dick, it is time enough to think of that by-and-by, don't you
+think?"
+
+"Perhaps so; I hope so. At present it seems to me that, as far as I am
+concerned, it is just a race between the bishop and the bailiff which
+shall have me first. If any lady is good enough to hold out a hand to a
+poor drowning fellow, she had better----"
+
+"Take care, Dick, that the poor drowning fellow does not pull her in.
+Don't you think it would be well to consider first what you have got to
+live on?"
+
+"I have plenty to live on; I know that exactly," said Dick.
+
+"What is it?"
+
+"My wife's fortune."
+
+"You are never serious for a minute, Dick! Don't you think it would be
+better first to get matters a little into order, so as to know
+distinctly what you are worth?"
+
+"Quite the contrary; she'd rather not know. She'd rather exercise her
+imagination than learn distinctly what I am worth. Any woman of sense
+would prefer marrying me so."
+
+"I don't understand you."
+
+"Why, if I succeed in making matters quite lucid, I don't think she
+would marry me at all. Isn't it better to say, 'My Angelina,' or
+whatever else it may be, 'you see before you Sir Richard Arden, who has
+estates in Yorkshire, in Middlesex, and in Devonshire, thus spanning all
+England from north to south. We had these estates at the Conquest. There
+is nothing modern about them but the mortgages. I have never been able
+to ascertain exactly what they bring in by way of rents, or pay out by
+way of interest. That I stand here, with flesh upon my bones, and pretty
+well-made clothes, I hope, upon both, is evidence in a confused way that
+an English gentleman--a baronet--can subsist upon them; and this
+magnificent muddle I lay at your feet with the devotion of a passionate
+admirer of your personal--property!' That, I say, is better than
+appearing with a balance-sheet in your hand, and saying, 'Madam, I
+propose marrying you, and I beg to present you with a balance-sheet of
+the incomings and outgoings of my estates, the intense clearness of
+which will, I hope, compensate for the nature of its disclosures. I am
+there shown in the most satisfactory detail to be worth exactly fifteen
+shillings per annum, and how unlimited is my credit will appear from the
+immense amount and variety of my debts. In pressing my suit I rely
+entirely upon your love of perspicuity and your passion for arithmetic,
+which will find in the ledgers of my steward an almost inexhaustible
+gratification and indulgence.' However, as you say, Alice, I have time
+to look about me, and I see you are tired. We'll talk it over to-morrow
+morning at breakfast. Don't think I have made up my mind; I'll do
+exactly whatever you like best. But get to your bed, you poor little
+soul; you do look so tired!"
+
+With great affection they parted for the night. But Sir Richard did not
+meet her at breakfast.
+
+After she had left the room some time, he changed his mind, left a
+message for his sister with old Crozier, ordered his servant and trap to
+the door, and drove into town. It was not his good angel who prompted
+him. He drove to a place where he was sure to find high play going on,
+and there luck did not favour him.
+
+What had become of Sir Richard Arden's resolutions? The fascinations of
+his old vice were irresistible. The ring of the dice, the whirl of the
+roulette, the plodding pillage of whist--any rite acknowledged by
+Fortune, the goddess of his soul, was welcome to that keen worshipper.
+Luck was not always adverse; once or twice he might have retreated in
+comparative safety; but the temptation to "back his luck" and go on
+prevailed, and left him where he was.
+
+About a week after the evening passed at Mortlake, a black and awful
+night of disaster befel him.
+
+Every other extravagance and vice draws its victim on at a regulated
+pace, but this of gaming is an hourly trifling with life, and one
+infatuated moment may end him. How short had been the reign of the new
+baronet, and where were prince and princedom now?
+
+Before five o'clock in the morning, he had twice spent a quarter of an
+hour tugging at Mr. Levi's office-bell, in the dismal old street in
+Westminster. Then he drove off toward his lodgings. The roulette was
+whirling under his eyes whenever for a moment he closed them. He thought
+he was going mad.
+
+The cabman knew a place where, even at that unseasonable hour, he might
+have a warm bath; and thither Sir Richard ordered him to drive. After
+this, he again essayed the Jew's office. The cool early morning was over
+still quiet London--hardly a soul was stirring. On the steps he waited,
+pulling the office-bell at intervals. In the stillness of the morning,
+he could hear it distinctly in the remote room, ringing unheeded in that
+capacious house.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER LXIII.
+
+PLANS.
+
+
+It was, of course, in vain looking for Mr. Levi there at such an hour.
+Sir Richard Arden fancied that he had, perhaps, a sleeping-room in the
+house, and on that chance tried what his protracted alarm might do.
+
+Then he drove to his own house. He had a latch-key, and let himself in.
+Just as he is, he throws himself into a chair in his dressing-room. He
+knows there is no use in getting into his bed. In his fatigued state,
+sleep was quite out of the question. That proud young man was longing to
+open his heart to the mean, cruel little Jew.
+
+Oh, madness! why had he broken with his masterly and powerful friend,
+Longcluse? Quite unavailing now, his repentance. They had spoken and
+passed like ships at sea, in this wide life, and now who could count the
+miles and billows between them! Never to cross or come in sight again!
+
+Uncle David! Yes, he might go to him; he might spread out the broad
+evidences of his ruin before him, and adjure him, by the God of mercy,
+to save him from the great public disgrace that was now imminent;
+implore of him to give him any pittance he pleased, to subsist on in
+exile, and to deal with the estates as he himself thought best. But
+Uncle David was away, quite out of reach. After his whimsical and
+inflexible custom, lest business should track him in his holiday, he had
+left no address with his man of business, who only knew that his first
+destination was Scotland; none with Grace Maubray, who only knew that,
+attended by Vivian Darnley, she and Lady May were to meet him in about a
+fortnight on the Continent, where they were to plan together a little
+excursion in Switzerland or Italy.
+
+Sir Richard quite forgot there was such a meal as breakfast. He ordered
+his horse to the door, took a furious two hours' ride beyond Brompton,
+and returned and saw Levi at his office, at his usual hour, eleven
+o'clock. The Jew was alone. His large lowering eyes were cast on Sir
+Richard as he entered and approached.
+
+"Look, now; listen," says Sir Richard, who looks wofully wild and pale,
+and as he seats himself never takes his eyes off Mr. Levi. "I don't care
+very much who knows it--I think I'm totally _ruined_."
+
+The Jew knows pretty well all about it, but he stares and gapes
+hypocritically in the face of his visitor as if he were thunderstruck,
+and he speaks never a word. I suppose he thought it as well, for the
+sake of brevity and clearness, to allow his client "to let off the
+shteam" first, a process which Sir Richard forthwith commenced, with
+both hands on the table--sometimes clenched, sometimes expanded,
+sometimes with a thump, by blowing off a cloud of oaths and curses, and
+incoherent expositions of the wrongs and perversities of fortune.
+
+"I don't think I can tell you how much it is. I don't know," says Sir
+Richard bleakly, in reply to a pertinent question of the Jew's. "There
+was that rich fellow, what's his name, that makes candles--he's always
+winning. By Jove, what a thing luck is! He won--I know it is more than
+two thousand. I gave him I O U's for it. He'd be very glad, of course,
+to know me, curse him! I don't care, now, who does. And he'd let me owe
+him twice as much, for as long as I like. I daresay, only too glad--as
+smooth as one of his own filthy candles. And there were three fellows
+lending money there. I don't know how much I got--I was stupid. I signed
+whatever they put before me. Those things can't stand, by heavens; the
+Chancellor will set them all aside. The confounded villains! What's the
+Government doing? What's the Government about, I say? Why don't
+Parliament interfere, to smash those cursed nests of robbers and
+swindlers? Here I am, utterly robbed--I know I'm _robbed_--and all by
+that cursed temptation; and--and--and I don't know what cash I got, nor
+what I have put my name to!"
+
+"I'll make out that in an hour's time. They'll tell me at the houshe who
+the shentleman wazh."
+
+"And--upon my soul that's true--I owe the people there something too; it
+can't be much--it isn't much. And, Levi, like a good fellow--by Heaven,
+I'll _never_ forget it to you, if you'll think of something. You've
+pulled me through so often; I am sure there's good-nature in you; you
+wouldn't see a fellow you've known so long driven to the wall and made a
+beggar of, without--without thinking of something."
+
+Levi looked down, with his hands in his pockets, and whistled to
+himself, and Sir Richard gazed on his vulgar features as if his life or
+death depended upon every variation of their expression.
+
+"You know," says Levi, looking up and swaying his shoulders a little,
+"the old chap can't do no more. He's taken a share in that Austrian
+contract, and he'll want his capital, every pig. I told you lasht time.
+Wouldn't Lonclushe give you a lift?"
+
+"Not he. He'd rather give me a shove under."
+
+"Well, they tell me you and him wazh very thick; and your uncle'sh man,
+Blount, knowshe him, and can just ashk him, from himself, mind, not from
+you."
+
+"For money?" exclaimed Richard.
+
+"Not at a--all," drawled the Jew impatiently. "Lishen--mind. The old
+fellow, your friend----"
+
+"He's out of town," interrupted Richard.
+
+"No, he'sh not. I shaw him lasht night. You're a--all wrong. He'sh not
+Mr. David Harden, if that'sh what you mean. He'sh a better friend, and
+he'll leave you a lot of tin when he diesh--an old friend of the
+family--and if all goeshe shmooth he'll come and have a talk with you
+fashe to fashe, and tell you all his plansh about you, before a week'sh
+over. But he'll be at hish lasht pound for five or six weeksh to come,
+till the firsht half-million of the new shtock is in the market; and he
+shaid, 'I can't draw out a pound of my balanshe, but if he can get
+Lonclushe's na--me, I'll get him any shum he wantsh, and bear Lonclushe
+harmlesh.'"
+
+"I don't think I can," said Sir Richard; "I can't be quite sure, though.
+It is just possible he might."
+
+"Well, let Blount try," said he.
+
+There was another idea also in Mr. Levi's head. He had been thinking
+whether the situation might not be turned to some more profitable
+account, for him, than the barren agency for the "friend of the family,"
+who "lent out money gratis," like Antonio; and if he did not "bring down
+the rate of usance," at all events, deprived the Shylocks of London, in
+one instance at least, of their fair game.
+
+"If he won't do that, there'sh but one chansh left."
+
+"What is that?" asked Sir Richard, with a secret flutter at his heart.
+It was awful to think of himself reduced to his last chance, with his
+recent experience of what a chance is.
+
+"Well," says Mr. Levi, scrawling florid capitals on the table with his
+office pen, and speaking with much deliberation, "I heard you were going
+to make a very rich match; and if the shettlementsh was agreed on, I
+don't know but we might shee our way to advancing all you want."
+
+Sir Richard gets up, and walks slowly two or three times up and down the
+room.
+
+"I'll see about Blount," said he; "I'll talk to him. I think those
+things are payable in six or eight days; and that tallow-chandler won't
+bother me to-morrow, I daresay. I'll go to-day and talk to Blount, and
+suppose you come to me to-morrow evening at Mortlake. Will nine o'clock
+do for you? I sha'n't keep you half-an-hour."
+
+"A--all right, Shir--nine, at Mortlake. If you want any diamondsh, I
+have a beoo--ootiful collar and pendantsh, in that shaafe--brilliantsh.
+I can give you the lot three thoushand under cosht prishe. You'll
+wa--ant a preshent for the young la--ady."
+
+"Yes, I suppose so," said Sir Richard, abstractedly. "To-morrow
+night--to-morrow evening at nine o'clock."
+
+He stopped at the door, looking silently down the stairs, and then
+without leave-taking or looking behind him, he ran down, and drove to
+Mr. Blount's house, close by, in Manchester Buildings.
+
+For more than a year the young gentleman whom we are following this
+morning had cherished vague aspirations, of which good Lady May had been
+the object. There was nothing to prevent their union, for the lady was
+very well disposed to listen. But Richard Arden did not like ridicule,
+and there was no need to hurry; and besides, within the last half-year
+had arisen another flame, less mercenary; also, perhaps, reciprocated.
+
+Grace Maubray was handsome, animated; she had that combination of air,
+tact, cleverness, which enter into the idea of _chic_. With him it had
+been a financial, but notwithstanding rather agreeable, speculation.
+Hitherto there seemed ample time before him, and there was no need to
+define or decide.
+
+Now, you will understand, the crisis had arrived, which admitted of
+neither hesitation nor delay. He was now at Blount's hall-door. He was
+certain that he could trust Blount with anything, and he meant to learn
+from him what _dot_ his Uncle David intended bestowing on the young
+lady.
+
+Mr. Blount was at home. He smiled kindly, and took the young gentleman's
+hand, and placed a chair for him.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER LXIV.
+
+FROM FLOWER TO FLOWER.
+
+
+Mr. Blount was intelligent: he was an effective though not an artful
+diplomatist. He promptly undertook to sound Mr. Longcluse without
+betraying Sir Richard.
+
+Richard Arden did not allude to his losses. He took good care to appear
+pretty nearly as usual. When he confessed his _tendresse_ for Miss
+Maubray, the grave gentleman smiled brightly, and took him by the hand.
+
+"If _you_ should marry the young lady, mark you, she will have sixty
+thousand pounds down, and sixty thousand more after Mr. David Arden's
+death. That is splendid, Sir, and I think it will please him _very_
+much."
+
+"I have suffered a great deal, Mr. Blount, by neglecting his advice
+hitherto. It shall be my chief object, henceforward, to reform, and to
+live as he wishes. I believe people can't learn wisdom without
+suffering."
+
+"Will you take a biscuit and a glass of sherry, Sir Richard?" asked Mr.
+Blount.
+
+"Nothing, thanks," said Sir Richard. "You know, I'm not as rich as I
+might have been, and marriage is a very serious step; and you are one of
+the oldest and most sensible friends I have, and you'll understand that
+it is only right I should be very sure before taking such a step,
+involving not myself only, but another who ought to be dearer still,
+that there should be no mistake about the means on which we may reckon.
+Are you quite sure that my uncle's intentions are still exactly what you
+mentioned?"
+
+"Perfectly; he authorised me to say so two months ago, and on the eve of
+his departure on Friday last he repeated his instructions."
+
+Sir Richard, in silence, shook the old man very cordially by the hand,
+and was gone.
+
+As he drove to his house in May Fair, Sir Richard's thoughts, among
+other things, turned again upon the question, "Who could his mysterious
+benefactor be?"
+
+Once or twice had dimly visited his mind a theory which, ever since his
+recent conversation with Mr. Levi, had been growing more solid and
+vivid. An illegitimate brother of his father's, Edwin Raikes, had gone
+out to Australia early in life, with a purse to which three brothers,
+the late Sir Reginald, Harry, and David, had contributed. He had not
+maintained any correspondence with English friends and kindred; but
+rumours from time to time reached home that he had amassed a fortune.
+His feelings to the family of Arden had always been kindly. He was older
+than Uncle David, and had well earned a retirement from the life of
+exertion and exile which had consumed all the vigorous years of his
+manhood. Was this the "old party" for whom Mr. Levi was acting?
+
+With this thought opened a new and splendid hope upon the mind of Sir
+Richard. Here was a fortune, if rumour spoke truly, which, combined with
+David Arden's, would be amply sufficient to establish the old baronetage
+upon a basis of solid magnificence such as it had never rested on
+before.
+
+It would not do, however, to wait for this. The urgency of the situation
+demanded immediate action. Sir Richard made an elaborate toilet, after
+which, in a hansom, he drove to Lady May Penrose's.
+
+If our hero had had fewer things to think about he would have gone
+first, I fancy, to Miss Grace Maubray. It could do no great harm,
+however, to feel his way a little with Lady May, he thought, as he
+chatted with that plump alternative of his tender dilemma. But in this
+wooing there was a difficulty of a whimsical kind. Poor Lady May was so
+easily won, and made so many openings for his advances, that he was at
+his wits' end to find evasions by which to postpone the happy crisis
+which she palpably expected. He did succeed, however; and with a promise
+of calling again, with the lady's permission, that evening, he took his
+leave.
+
+Before making his call at his uncle's house, in the hope of seeing Grace
+Maubray, he had to return to Mr. Blount, in Manchester Buildings, where
+he hoped to receive from that gentleman a report of his interview with
+Mr. Longcluse.
+
+I shall tell you here what that report related. Mr. Longcluse was
+fortunately still at his house when Mr. Blount called, and immediately
+admitted him. Mr. Longcluse's horse and groom were at the door; he was
+on the point of taking his ride. His gloves and whip were beside him on
+the table as Mr. Blount entered.
+
+Mr. Blount made his apologies, and was graciously received. His visit
+was, in truth, by no means unwelcome.
+
+"Mr. David Arden very well, I hope?"
+
+"Quite well, thanks. He has left town."
+
+"Indeed! And where has he gone--the moors?"
+
+"To Scotland, but not to shoot, I think. And he's going abroad
+then--going to travel."
+
+"On the Continent? How nice that is! What part?"
+
+"Switzerland and Italy, I think," said Mr. Blount, omitting all mention
+of Paris, where Mr. Arden was going first to make a visit to the Baron
+Vanboeren.
+
+"He's going over ground that I know very well," said Mr. Longcluse.
+"Happy man! He can't quite break away from his business, though, I
+daresay."
+
+"He never tells us where a letter will find him, and the consequence is
+his holidays are never spoiled."
+
+"Not a bad plan, Mr. Blount. Won't he visit the Paris Exhibition?"
+
+"I rather think not."
+
+"Can I do anything for you, Mr. Blount?"
+
+"Well, Mr. Longcluse, I just called to ask you a question. I have been
+invited to take part in arranging a little matter which I take an
+interest in, because it affects the Arden estates."
+
+"Is Sir Richard Arden interested in it?" inquired Mr. Longcluse, gently
+and coldly.
+
+"Yes, I rather fancy he would be benefited."
+
+"I have had a good deal of unpleasantness, and, I might add, a great
+deal of ingratitude from that quarter, and I have made up my mind never
+again to have anything to do with him or his affairs. I have no
+unpleasant _feeling_, you understand; no resentment; there is nothing,
+of course, he could say or do that could in the least affect me. It is
+simply that, having coolly reviewed his conduct, I have quite made up my
+mind to aid in nothing in which he has act, part, or interest."
+
+"It was not _directly_, but simply as a surety----"
+
+"All the same, so far as I'm concerned," said Mr. Longcluse sharply.
+
+"And only, I fancied, it might be, as Mr. David Arden is absent, and you
+should be protected by satisfactory joint security----"
+
+"I won't do it," said Mr. Longcluse, a little brusquely; and he took out
+his watch and glanced at it impatiently.
+
+"Sir Richard, I think, will be in funds immediately," said Mr. Blount.
+
+"How so?" asked Mr. Longcluse. "You'll excuse me, as you press the
+subject, for saying _that_ will be something new."
+
+"Well," said Mr. Blount, who saw that his last words had made an
+impression, "Sir Richard is likely to be married, very advantageously,
+immediately."
+
+"Are settlements agreed on?" inquired Mr. Longcluse, with real interest.
+
+"No, not yet; but I know all about them."
+
+"He is accepted then?"
+
+"He has not proposed yet; but there can be, I fancy, no doubt that the
+lady likes him, and all will go right."
+
+"Oh! and who is the lady?"
+
+"I'm not at liberty to tell."
+
+"Quite right; I ought not to have asked," says Mr. Longcluse; and looks
+down, slapping at intervals the side of his trousers lightly with his
+whip. He raises his eyes to Mr. Blount's face, and looks on the point of
+asking another question, but he does not.
+
+"It is my opinion," said Mr. Blount, "the kindness would involve
+absolutely no risk whatever."
+
+There was a little pause. Mr. Longcluse looks rather dark and anxious;
+perhaps his mind has wandered quite from the business before them. But
+it returns, and he says,--
+
+"Risk or no risk, Mr. Blount, I don't mean to do him that kindness; and
+for how long will Mr. David Arden be absent?"
+
+"Unless he should take a sudden thought to return, he'll be away at
+least two months."
+
+"Where is he?--in Scotland?"
+
+"I _really_ don't know."
+
+"Couldn't one see him for a few minutes before he starts? Where does he
+take the steamer?"
+
+"Southampton."
+
+"And on what day?"
+
+"You really want a word with him?" asked Blount, whose hopes revived.
+
+"I may."
+
+"Well, the only person who will know that is Mr. Humphries, of Pendle
+Castle, near that town; for he has to transact some trust-business with
+that gentleman as he passes through."
+
+"Humphries, of Pendle Castle. Very good; thanks."
+
+Mr. Longcluse looks again at his watch.
+
+"And perhaps you will reconsider the matter I spoke of?"
+
+"No use, Mr. Blount--not the least. I have quite made up my mind.
+Anything more? I am afraid I must be off."
+
+"Nothing, thanks," said Mr. Blount.
+
+And so the interview ended.
+
+When he was gone, Mr. Longcluse thought darkly for a minute.
+
+"That's a straightforward fellow, they say. I suppose the facts are so.
+It can't be, though, that Miss Maubray, that handsome creature with so
+much money, is thinking of marrying that insolent coxcomb. It may be
+Lady May, but the other is more likely. We must not allow _that_, Sir
+Richard. That would never do."
+
+There was a fixed frown on his face, and he was smiling in his dream.
+Out he went. His pale face looked as if he meditated a wicked joke, and,
+frowning still in utter abstraction, he took the bridle from his groom,
+mounted, looked about him as if just wakened, and set off at a canter,
+followed by his servant, for David Arden's house.
+
+Smiling, gay, as if no care had ever crossed him, Longcluse enters the
+drawing-room, where he finds the handsome young lady writing a note at
+that moment.
+
+"Mr. Longcluse, I'm so glad you've come!" she says, with a brilliant
+smile. "I was writing to poor Lady Ethel, who is mourning, you know, in
+the country. The death of her father in the house was so awfully sudden,
+and I'm telling her all the news I can think of to amuse her. And is it
+really true that old Sir Thomas Giggles has grown so cross with his
+pretty young wife, and objects to her allowing Lord Knocknea to make
+love to her?"
+
+"Quite true. It is a very bad quarrel, and I'm afraid it can't be made
+up," said Mr. Longcluse.
+
+"It must be very bad, indeed, if Sir Thomas can't make it up; for he
+allowed his first wife, I am told, to do anything she pleased. Is it to
+be a separation?"
+
+"At _least_. And you heard, I suppose, of poor old Lady Glare?"
+
+"No!"
+
+"She has been rolling ever so long, you know, in a sea of troubles, and
+now, at last, she has fairly foundered."
+
+"How do you mean?"
+
+"They have sold her diamonds," said Mr. Longcluse. "Didn't you hear?"
+
+"No! Really? Sold her diamonds? Good Heaven! Then there's nothing left
+of her but her teeth. I hope they won't sell them."
+
+"It is an awful misfortune," said Mr. Longcluse.
+
+"Misfortune! She's utterly ruined. It was her diamonds that people
+asked. I am really sorry. She was such fun; she was so fat, and such a
+fool, and said such delicious things, and dressed herself so like a
+macaw. Alas! I shall never see her more; and people thought her only use
+on earth was to carry about her diamonds. No one seemed to perceive what
+a delightful creature she was. What about Lady May Penrose? I have not
+seen her since I came back from Cowes, the day before yesterday, and we
+leave London together on Tuesday."
+
+"Lady May! Oh! she is to receive a very interesting communication, I
+believe. She is one name on a pretty long and very distinguished list,
+which Sir Richard Arden, I am told, has made out, and carries about with
+him in his pocket-book."
+
+"You're talking riddles; pray speak plainly."
+
+"Well, Lady May is one of several ladies who are to be honoured with a
+proposal."
+
+"And would you have me believe that Sir Richard Arden has really made
+such a fool of himself as to make out a list of eligible ladies whom he
+is about to ask to marry him, and that he has had the excellent good
+sense and taste to read this list to his acquaintance?"
+
+"I mean to say this--I'll tell the whole story--Sir Richard has ruined
+himself at play; take that as a fact to start with. He is literally
+ruined. His uncle is away; but I don't think any man in his senses would
+think of paying his losses for him. He turns, therefore, naturally, to
+the more amiable and less arithmetical sex, and means to invite, in
+turn, a series of fair and affluent admirers to undertake, by means of
+suitable settlements, that interesting office for him."
+
+"I don't think you like him, Mr. Longcluse; is not that a story a little
+too like 'The Merry Wives of Windsor?'"
+
+"It is quite certain I don't like him, and it is quite certain," added
+Mr. Longcluse, with one of his cold little laughs, "that if I did like
+him, I should not tell the story; but it is also certain that the story
+is, in all its parts, strictly fact. If you permit me the pleasure of a
+call in two or three days, you will tell me you no longer doubt it."
+
+Mr. Longcluse was looking down as he said that with a gentle and smiling
+significance. The young lady blushed a little, and then more intensely,
+as he spoke, and looking through the window, asked with a laugh,--
+
+"But how shall we know whether he really speaks to Lady May?"
+
+"Possibly by his marrying her," laughed Mr. Longcluse. "He certainly
+will if he can, unless he is caught and married on the way to her
+house."
+
+"He was a little unfortunate in showing you his list, wasn't he?" said
+Grace Maubray.
+
+"I did not say that. If there had been any, the least, confidence,
+nothing on earth could have induced me to divulge it. We are not even,
+at present, on speaking terms. He had the coolness to send a Mr. Blount,
+who transacts all Mr. David Arden's affairs, to ask me to become his
+security, Mr. Arden being away; and by way of inducing me to do so, he
+disclosed, with the coarseness which is the essence of business, the
+matrimonial schemes which are to recoup, within a few days, the losses
+of the roulette, the whist-table, or the dice-box."
+
+"Oh! Mr. Blount, I'm told, is a very honest man."
+
+"Quite so; particularly accurate, and I don't think anything on earth
+would induce him to tell an untruth," testifies Mr. Longcluse.
+
+After a little pause, Miss Maubray laughs.
+
+"One certainly does learn," she said, "something new every day. Could
+any one have fancied a _gentleman_ descending to so gross a meanness?"
+
+"Everybody is a gentleman now-a-days," remarked Mr. Longcluse with a
+smile; "but every one is not a hero--they give way, more or less, under
+temptation. Those who stand the test of the crucible and the furnace are
+seldom met with."
+
+At this moment the door opened, and Lord Wynderbroke was announced. A
+little start, a lighting of the eyes, as Grace rose, and a fluttered
+advance, with a very pretty little hand extended, to meet him,
+testified, perhaps, rather more surprise than one would have quite
+expected. For Mr. Longcluse, who did not know him so well as Miss
+Maubray, recognised his voice, which was peculiar, and resembling the
+caw of a jay, as he put a question to the servant on his way up.
+
+Mr. Longcluse took his leave. He was not sorry that Lord Wynderbroke had
+called. He wished no success to Sir Richard's wooing. He thought he had
+pretty well settled the question in Miss Maubray's mind, and smiling, he
+rode at a pleasant canter to Lady May's. It was as well, perhaps, that
+she should hear the same story. Lady May, however, unfortunately, had
+just gone out for a drive.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER LXV.
+
+BEHIND THE ARRAS.
+
+
+It was quite true that Lady May was not at home. She was actually, with
+a little charming palpitation, driving to pay a very interesting visit
+to Grace Maubray. In affairs of the kind that now occupied her mind, she
+had no confidants but very young people.
+
+Miss Maubray was at home--and instantly Lady May's plump instep was seen
+on the carriage step. She disdained assistance, and descended with a
+heavy skip upon the flags, where she executed an involuntary frisk that
+carried her a little out of the line of advance.
+
+As she ascended the stairs, she met her friend Lord Wynderbroke coming
+down. They stopped for a moment on the landing, under a picture of Cupid
+and Venus; Lady May, smiling, remarked, a little out of breath, what a
+charming day it was, and expressed her amazement at seeing him in
+town--a surprise which he agreeably reciprocated. He had been at
+Glenkiltie in the Highlands, where he had accidentally met Mr. David
+Arden. "Miss Maubray is in the drawing-room," he said, observing that
+the eyes of the good lady glanced unconsciously upward at the door of
+that room. And then they parted affectionately, and turned their backs
+on each other with a sense of relief.
+
+"Well, my dear," she said to Grace Maubray as soon as they had kissed,
+"longing to have a few minutes with you, with ever so much to say. You
+have no idea what it is to be stopped on the stairs by that tiresome
+man--I'll never quarrel with you again for calling him a bore. No
+matter, here I am; and really, my dear, it _is_ such an odd affair--not
+quite that; such an odd scene, I don't know where or how to begin."
+
+"I wish I could help you," said Miss Maubray laughing.
+
+"Oh, my dear, you'd never guess in a hundred years."
+
+"How do you know? Hasn't a certain baronet something to do with it?"
+
+"Well, well--dear me! That is _very_ extraordinary. Did he tell you he
+was going to--to--Good gracious! My dear, it _is_ the most extraordinary
+thing. I believe you hear everything; but--a--but _listen_. Not an hour
+ago he came--Richard Arden, of course, we mean--and, my dear Grace, he
+spoke so very nicely of his troubles, poor fellow, you know--debts I
+mean, of course--not the least his fault, and all that kind of thing,
+and--he went on--I really don't know how to tell you. But he said--he
+said--he said he liked me, and no one else on earth; and he was on the
+very point of saying _everything_, when, just at that moment, who should
+come in but that gossiping old woman, Lady Botherton--and he whispered,
+as he was going, that he would return, after I had had my drive. The
+carriage was at the door, so, when I got rid of the old woman, I got
+into it, and came straight here to have a talk with you; and what do you
+think I ought to say? Do tell me, like a darling, do!"
+
+"I wish you would tell _me_ what one ought to say to that question,"
+said Grace Maubray with a slight disdain (that young lady was in the
+most unreasonable way piqued), "for I'm told he's going to ask me
+precisely the same question."
+
+"_You_, my dear?" said Lady May after a pause, during which she was
+staring at the smiling face of the young lady; "you can't be serious!"
+
+"_He_ can't be serious, you mean," answered the young lady, "and--who's
+this?" she broke off, as she saw a cab drive up to the hall-door. "Dear
+me! is it? No. Yes, indeed, it is Sir Richard Arden. We must not be seen
+together. He'll know you have been talking to me. Just go in here."
+
+She opened the door of the boudoir adjoining the room.
+
+"I'll send him away in a moment. You may hear every word I have to say.
+I should like it. I shall give him a lecture."
+
+As she thus spoke she heard his step on the stair, and motioned Lady May
+into the inner room, into which she hurried and closed the door, leaving
+it only a little way open.
+
+These arrangements are hardly completed when Sir Richard is announced.
+Grace is positively angry. But never had she looked so beautiful; her
+eyes so tenderly lustrous under their long lashes; her colour so
+brilliant--an expression so maidenly and sad. If it was acting, it was
+very well done. You would have sworn that the melancholy and agitation
+of her looks, and the slightly quickened movement of her breathing, were
+those of a person who felt that the hour of her fate had come.
+
+With what elation Richard Arden saw these beautiful signs!
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER LXVI.
+
+A BUBBLE BROKEN.
+
+
+After a few words had been exchanged, Grace said in reply to a question
+of Sir Richard's,--
+
+"Lady May and I are going together, you know: in a day or two we shall
+be at Brighton. I mean to bid Alice good-bye to-day. There--I mean at
+Brighton--we are to meet Vivian Darnley, and possibly another friend;
+and we go to meet your uncle at that pretty little town in Switzerland,
+where Lady May----I wonder, by-the-bye, you did not arrange to come with
+us; Lady May travels with us the entire time. She says there are some
+very interesting ruins there."
+
+"Why, dear old soul!" said Sir Richard, who felt called upon to say
+something to set himself right with respect to Lady May, "she's thinking
+of quite another place. She will be herself the only interesting ruin
+there."
+
+"I think you wish to vex me," said pretty Grace, turning away with a
+smile, which showed, nevertheless, that this kind of joke was not an
+unmixed vexation to her. "I don't care for ruins myself."
+
+"Nor do I," he said, archly.
+
+"But you don't think so of Lady May. I know you don't. You are franker
+with her than with me, and you tell her a very different tale."
+
+"I must be very frank, then, if I tell her more than I know myself. I
+never said a civil thing of Lady May, except once or twice, to the poor
+old thing herself, when I wanted her to do one or two little things, to
+please _you_."
+
+"Oh! come, you can't deceive me; I've seen you place your hand to your
+heart, like a theatrical hero, when you little fancied any one but she
+saw it."
+
+"Now, really, that is too bad. I may have put my hand to my side, when
+it ached from laughing."
+
+"How can you talk so? You know very well I have heard you tell her how
+you admire her music and her landscapes."
+
+"No, no--not landscapes--she paints faces. But her colouring is, as
+artists say, too chalky--and nothing but red and white, like--what is it
+like?--like a clown. Why did not she get the late Mr. Etty--she's always
+talking of him--to teach her something of his tints?"
+
+"You are not to speak so of Lady May. You forget she is my particular
+friend," says the young lady; but her pretty face does not express so
+much severity as her words. "I do think you like her. You merely talk so
+to throw dust in people's eyes. Why should not you be frank with me?"
+
+"I wish I dare be frank with you," said Sir Richard.
+
+"And why not?"
+
+"How can I tell how my disclosures might be punished? My frankness might
+extinguish the best hope I live for; a few rash words might make me a
+very unhappy man for life."
+
+"Really? Then I can quite understand that reflection alarming you in the
+midst of a _tête-à-tête_ with Lady May; and even interrupting an
+interesting conversation."
+
+Sir Richard looked at her quickly, but her looks were perfectly artless.
+
+"I really do wish you would spare me all further allusion to that good
+woman. I can bear that kind of fun from any one but you. Why will you?
+she is old enough to be my mother. She is fat, and painted, and
+ridiculous. You think me totally without romance? I wish to heaven I
+were. There is a reason, that makes your saying all that particularly
+cruel. I am not the sordid creature you take me for. I'm not insensible.
+I'm not a mere stock of stone. Never was human being more capable of the
+wildest passion. Oh, if I dare tell you all!"
+
+Was all this acting? Certainly not. Never was shallow man, for the
+moment, more in earnest. Cool enough he was, although he had always
+admired this young lady, when he entered the room. He had made that
+entrance, nevertheless, in a spirit quite dramatic. But Miss Maubray
+never looked so brilliant, never half so tender. He took fire--the
+situation aiding quite unexpectedly--and the flame was real. It might
+have been over as quickly as a balloon on fire; but for the moment the
+conflagration was intense.
+
+How was Miss Maubray affected? An immensely abler performer than the
+young gentleman who had entered the room with his part at his fingers'
+ends, and all his looks and emphasis arranged--only to break through all
+this, and begin extemporising wildly--she, on the contrary, maintained
+her _rôle_ with admirable coolness. It was not, perhaps, so easy; for
+notwithstanding appearances, her histrionic powers were severely tasked;
+for never was she more angry. Her self-esteem was wounded; the fancy (it
+was no more), she had cherished for him was gone, and a great disgust
+was there instead.
+
+"You shall ask me no questions till I have done asking mine," said the
+young lady, with decision; "and I will speak as much as I please of Lady
+May!"
+
+This jealousy flattered Sir Richard.
+
+"And I will say this," continued Grace Maubray, "you never address her
+except as a lover, in what you romantic people would call the language
+of love."
+
+"Now, now, now! How can you say that? Is that fair?"
+
+"You do."
+
+"No, really, I swear--that's _too_ bad!"
+
+"Yes, the other day, when you spoke to her at the carriage window--you
+did not think I heard--you accused her so tenderly of having failed to
+go to Lady Harbroke's garden-party, and you couldn't say what you meant
+in plain terms, but you said, 'Why were you false?'"
+
+"I didn't, I swear."
+
+"Oh! you did; I heard every syllable; 'false' was the word."
+
+"Well, if I said 'false,' I must have been thinking of her hair; for she
+is really a very honest old woman."
+
+At this moment a female voice in distress is heard, and poor Lady May
+comes pushing out of the pretty little room, in which Grace Maubray had
+placed her, sobbing and shedding floods of tears.
+
+"I can't stay there any longer, for I hear everything; I can't help
+hearing every word--honest old woman, and all--opprobrious. Oh! how
+_can_ people be so? how _can_ they? Oh! I'm very angry--I'm very
+angry--I'm very angry!"
+
+If Miss Maubray were easily moved to pity she might have been at sight
+of the big innocent eyes turned up at her, from which rolled great
+tears, making visible channels through the paint down her cheeks. She
+sobbed and wept like a fat, good-natured child, and pitifully she
+continued sobbing, "Oh, I'm a-a-ho--very angry; wha-at shall I do-o-o,
+my dear? I-I'm very angry--oh, oh--I'm very a-a-angry!"
+
+"So am I," said Grace Maubray, with a fiery glance at the young baronet,
+who stood fixed where he was, like an image of death; "and I had
+intended, dear Lady May, telling you a thing which Sir Richard Arden may
+as well hear, as I mean to write to tell Alice to-day; it is that I am
+to be married--I have accepted Lord Wynderbroke--and--and that's all."
+
+Sir Richard, I believe, said "Good-bye." Nobody heard him. I don't think
+he remembers how he got on his horse. I don't think the ladies saw him
+leave the room--only, he was gone.
+
+Poor Lady May takes her incoherent leave. She has got her veil over her
+face, to baffle curiosity. Miss Maubray stands at the window, the tip of
+her finger to her brilliant lip, contemplating Lady May as she gets in
+with a great jerk and swing of the carriage, and she hears the footman
+say "Home," and sees a fat hand, in a lilac glove, pull up the window
+hurriedly. Then she sits down on a sofa, and laughs till she quivers
+again, and tears overflow her eyes; and she says in the intervals,
+almost breathlessly,--
+
+"Oh, poor old thing! I really am sorry. Who could have thought she cared
+so much? Poor old soul! what a ridiculous old thing!"
+
+Such broken sentences of a rather contemptuous pity rolled and floated
+along the even current of her laughter.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER LXVII.
+
+BOND AND DEED.
+
+
+The summer span of days was gone; it was quite dark, and long troops of
+withered leaves drifted in rustling trains over the avenue, as Mr. Levi,
+observant of his appointment, drove up to the grand old front of
+Mortlake, which in the dark spread before him like a house of white
+mist.
+
+"I shay," exclaimed Mr. Levi, softly, arresting the progress of the
+cabman, who was about running up the steps, "I'll knock myshelf--wait
+you there."
+
+Mr. Levi was smoking. Standing at the base of the steps, he looked up,
+and right and left with some curiosity. It was too dark; he could hardly
+see the cold glimmer of the windows that reflected the grey horizon.
+Vaguely, however, he could see that it was a grander place than he had
+supposed. He looked down the avenue, and between the great trees over
+the gate he saw the distant lights, and heard through the dim air the
+chimes, far off, from London steeples, succeeding one another, or
+mingling faintly, and telling all whom it might concern the solemn
+lesson of the flight of time.
+
+Mr. Levi thought it might be worth while coming down in the day-time,
+and looking over the house and place to see what could be made of them;
+the thing was sure to go a dead bargain. At present he could see nothing
+but the wide, vague, grey front, and the faint glow through the hall
+windows, which showed their black outlines sharply enough.
+
+"Well, _he_'sh come a mucker, anyhow," murmured Mr. Levi, with one of
+his smiles that showed so wide his white sharp teeth.
+
+He knocked at the door and rang the bell. It was not a footman, but
+Crozier who opened it. The old servant of the family did not like the
+greasy black curls, the fierce jet eyes, the sallow face and the large,
+moist, sullen mouth, that presented themselves under the brim of Mr.
+Levi's hat, nor the tawdry glimmer of chains on his waistcoat, nor the
+cigar still burning in his fingers. Sir Richard had told Crozier,
+however, that a Mr. Levi, whom he described, was to call at a certain
+hour, on very particular business, and was to be instantly admitted.
+
+Mr. Levi looks round him, and extinguishes his cigar before following
+Crozier, whose countenance betrays no small contempt and dislike, as he
+eyes the little man askance, as if he would like well to be uncivil to
+him.
+
+Crozier leads him to the right, through a small apartment, to a vast
+square room, long disused, still called the library, though but few
+books remain on the shelves, and those in disorder. It is a chilly
+night, and a little fire burns in the grate, over which Sir Richard is
+cowering. Very haggard, the baronet starts up as the name of his visitor
+is announced.
+
+"Come in," cries Sir Richard, walking to meet him. "Here--here I am,
+Levi, utterly ruined. There isn't a soul I dare tell how I am beset, or
+anything to, but you. Do, for God's sake take pity on me, and think of
+something! my brain's quite gone--you're such a clever fellow" (he is
+dragging Levi by the arm all this time towards the candles): "do now,
+you're sure to see some way out. It is a matter of _honour_; I only want
+time. If I could only find my Uncle David: think of his
+selfishness--good heaven! was there ever man so treated? and there's the
+bank letter--_there_--on the table; you see it--dunning me, the
+ungrateful harpies, for the trifle--what is it?--three hundred and
+something, I overdrew; and that blackguard tallow-chandler has been
+three times to my house in town, for payment to-day, and it's more than
+I thought--near four thousand, he says--the scoundrel! It's just the
+same to him two months hence; he's full of money, the beast--a fellow
+like that--it's delight to him to get hold of a gentleman, and he won't
+take a bill--the lying rascal! He is pressed for cash just now--a
+pug-faced villain with three hundred thousand pounds! Those scoundrels!
+I mean the people, whatever they are, that lent me the money; it turns
+out it was all but at sight, and they were with my attorney to-day, and
+they won't wait. I wish I was shot; I envy the dead dogs rolling in the
+Thames! By heaven; Levi, I'll say you're the best friend man ever had on
+earth, I will, if you manage something! I'll never forget it to you;
+I'll have it in my power, yet! no one ever said I was ungrateful; I
+swear I'll be the making of you! _Do_, Levi, think; you're accustomed
+to--to emergency, and unless you will, I'm utterly ruined--ruined, by
+heaven, before I have time to think!"
+
+The Jew listened to all this with his hands in his pockets, leaning back
+in his chair, with his big eyes staring on the wild face of the baronet,
+and his heavy mouth hanging. He was trying to reduce his countenance to
+vacancy.
+
+"What about them shettlements, Sir Richard--a nishe young lady with a
+ha-a-tful o' money?" insinuated Levi.
+
+"I've been thinking over that, but it wouldn't do, with my affairs in
+this state, it would not be honourable or straight. Put that quite
+aside."
+
+Mr. Levi gaped at him for a moment solemnly, and turned suddenly, and,
+brute as he was, spit on the Turkey carpet. He was not, as you perceive,
+ceremonious; but he could not allow the baronet to see the laughter that
+without notice caught him for a moment, and could think of no better way
+to account for his turning away his head.
+
+"That'sh wery honourable indeed," said the Jew, more solemn than ever;
+"and if you can't play in that direction, I'm afraid you're in queer
+shtreet."
+
+The baronet was standing before Levi, and at these words from that dirty
+little oracle, a terrible chill stole up from his feet to the crown of
+his head. Like a frozen man he stood there, and the Jew saw that his
+very lips were white. Sir Richard feels, for the first time, actually,
+that he is ruined.
+
+The young man tries to speak, twice. The big eyes of the Jew are staring
+up at the contortion. Sir Richard can see nothing but those two big
+fiery eyes; he turns quickly away and walks to the end of the room.
+
+"There's just one fiddle-string left to play on," muses the Jew.
+
+"For God's sake!" exclaims Sir Richard, turning about, in a voice you
+would not have known, and for fully a minute the room was so silent you
+could scarcely have believed that two men were breathing in it.
+
+"Shir Richard, will you be so good as to come nearer a bit? There,
+that'sh the cheeshe. I brought thish 'ere thing."
+
+It is a square parchment with a good deal of printed matter, and blanks,
+written in, and a law stamp fixed with an awful regularity, at the
+corner.
+
+"Casht your eye over it," says Levi, coaxingly, as he pushes it over the
+table to the young gentleman, who is sitting now at the other side.
+
+The young man looks at it, reads it, but just then, if it had been a
+page of "Robinson Crusoe," he could not have understood it.
+
+"I'm not quite myself, I can't follow it; too much to think of. What is
+it?"
+
+"A bond and warrant to confess judgment."
+
+"What is it for?"
+
+"Ten thoushand poundsh."
+
+"Sign it, shall I? Can you do anything with it?"
+
+"Don't raishe your voishe, but lishten. Your friend"--and at the phrase
+Mr. Levi winked mysteriously--"has enough to do it twishe over; and upon
+my shoul, I'll shwear on the book, azh I hope to be shaved, it will
+never shee the light; he'll never raishe a pig on it, sho' 'elp me, nor
+let it out of hish 'ands, till he givesh it back to you. He can't ma-ake
+no ushe of it; I knowshe him well, and he'll pay you the ten thoushand
+to-morrow morning, and he wantsh to shake handsh with you, and make
+himself known to you, and talk a bit."
+
+"But--but my signature wouldn't satisfy him," began Sir Richard
+bewildered.
+
+"Oh! _no_--no, no?" murmured Mr. Levi, fiddling with the corner of the
+bank's reminder which lay on the table.
+
+"Mr. Longcluse won't sign it," said Sir Richard.
+
+Mr. Levi threw himself back in his chair, and looked with a roguish
+expression still upon the table, and gave the corner of the note a
+little fillip.
+
+"Well," said Levi, after both had been some time silent, "it ain't much,
+only to write his name on the penshil line, _there_, you see, and
+_there_--he shouldn't make no bonesh about it. Why, it's done every day.
+Do you think I'd help in a thing of the short if there was any danger?
+The Sheneral's come to town, is he? What are you afraid of? Don't you be
+a shild--ba-ah!"
+
+All this Mr. Levi said so low that it was as if he were whispering to
+the table, and he kept looking down as he put the parchment over to Sir
+Richard, who took it in his hand, and the bond trembled so much that he
+set it down again.
+
+"Leave it with me," he said faintly.
+
+Levi got up with an unusual hectic in each cheek, and his eyes very
+brilliant.
+
+"I'll meet you what time you shay to-night; you had besht take a little
+time. It'sh ten now. Three hoursh will do it. I'll go on to my offish by
+one o'clock, and you come any time from one to two."
+
+Sir Richard was trembling.
+
+"Between one and two, mind. Hang it! Shir Richard, don't you be a fool
+about nothing," whispers the Jew, as black as thunder.
+
+He is fumbling in his breast-pocket, and pulling out a sheaf of letters;
+he selects one, which he throws upon the parchment that lies open on the
+table.
+
+"That'sh the note you forgot in my offish yeshterday, with hish name
+shined to it. There, now you have everything."
+
+Without any form of valediction, the Jew had left the room. Sir Richard
+sits with his teeth set, and a strange frown upon his face, scarcely
+breathing. He hears the cab drive away. Before him on the table lie the
+papers.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER LXVIII.
+
+SIR RICHARD'S RESOLUTION.
+
+
+Two hours had passed, and more, of solitude. With a candle in his hand,
+and his hat and great-coat on, Sir Richard Arden came out into the hall.
+His trap awaited him at the door.
+
+In the interval of his solitude, something incredible has happened to
+him. It is over. A spectral secret accompanies him henceforward. A devil
+sits in his pocket, in that parchment. He dares not think of himself.
+Something sufficient to shake the world of London, and set all English
+Christian tongues throughout the earth wagging on one theme, has
+happened.
+
+Does he repent? One thing is certain: he dares not falter. Something
+within him once or twice commanded him to throw his crime into the fire,
+while yet it is obliterable. But what then? what of to-morrow? Into that
+sheer black sea of ruin, that reels and yawns as deep as eye can fathom
+beneath him, he must dive and see the light no more. Better his chance.
+
+He won't think of what he has done, of what he is going to do. He
+suspects his courage: he dares not tempt his cowardice. Braver, perhaps,
+it would have been to meet the worst at once. But surely, according to
+the theory of chances, we have played the true game. Is not a little
+time gained, everything? Are we not in friendly hands? Has not that
+little scoundrel committed himself, by an all but actual participation
+in the affair? It can never come to _that_. "I have only to confess, and
+throw myself at Uncle David's feet, and the one dangerous debt would
+instantly be brought up and cancelled."
+
+These thoughts came vaguely, and on his heart lay an all but
+insupportable load. The sight of the staircase reminded him that Alice
+must long since have gone to her room. He yearned to see her and say
+good-night. It was the last farewell that the brother she had known from
+her childhood till now should ever speak or look. That brother was to
+die to-night, and a spirit of guilt to come in his stead.
+
+He taps lightly at her door. She is asleep. He opens it, and dimly sees
+her innocent head upon the pillow. If his shadow were cast upon her
+dream, what an image would she have seen looking in at the door! A
+sudden horror seizes him--he draws back and closes the door; on the
+lobby he pauses. It was a last moment of grace. He stole down the
+stairs, mounted his tax-cart, took the reins from his servant in
+silence, and drove swiftly into town. In Parliament Street, near the
+corner of the street leading to Levi's office, they passed a policeman,
+lounging on the flagway. Richard Arden is in a strangely nervous state;
+he fancies he will stop and question him, and he touches the horse with
+the whip to get quickly by.
+
+In his breast-pocket he carried his ghastly secret. A pretty business if
+he happened to be thrown out, and a policeman should make an inventory
+of his papers, as he lay insensible in an hospital--a pleasant thing if
+he were robbed in these villanous streets, and the bond advertised, for
+a reward, by a pretended finder. A nice thing, good heaven! if it should
+wriggle and slip its way out of his pocket, in the jolting and tremble
+of the drive, and fall into London hands, either rascally or severe. He
+pulled up, and gave the reins to the servant, and felt, however
+gratefully, with his fingers, the crisp crumple of the parchment under
+the cloth! Did his servant look at him oddly as he gave him the reins?
+Not he; but Sir Richard began to suspect him and everything. He made him
+stop near the angle of the street, and there he got down, telling him
+rather savagely--for his fancied look was still in the baronet's
+brain--not to move an inch from that spot.
+
+It was half-past one as his steps echoed down the street in which Mr.
+Levi had his office. There was a figure leaning with its back in the
+recess of Levi's door, smoking. Sir Richard's temper was growing
+exasperated.
+
+It was Levi himself. Upstairs they stumble in the dark. Mr. Levi has not
+said a word. He is not treating his visitor with much ceremony. He lets
+himself into his office, secured with a heavy iron bar, and a lock that
+makes a great clang, and proceeds to light a candle. The flame expands
+and the light shows well-barred shutters, and the familiar objects.
+
+When Mr. Levi had lighted a second candle, he fixed his great black eyes
+on the young baronet, who glances over his shoulder at the door, but the
+Jew has secured it. Their eyes meet for a moment, and Sir Richard places
+his hand nervously in his breast-pocket and takes out the parchment.
+Levi nods and extends his hand. Each now holds it by a corner, and as
+Sir Richard lets it go hesitatingly, he says faintly--
+
+"Levi, you wouldn't--you could not run any risk with that?"
+
+Levi stands by his great iron safe, with the big key in his hand. He
+nods in reply, and locking up the document, he knocks his knuckles on
+the iron door, with a long and solemn wink.
+
+"_Sha-afe!_--that'sh the word," says he, and then he drops the keys into
+his pocket again.
+
+There was a silence of a minute or more. A spell was stealing over them;
+an influence was in the room. Each eyed the other, shrinkingly, as a man
+might eye an assassin. The Jew knew that there was danger in that
+silence; and yet he could not break it. He could not disturb the
+influence acting on Richard Arden's mind. It was his good angel's last
+pleading, before the long farewell.
+
+In a dreadful whisper Richard Arden speaks:--
+
+"Give me that parchment back," says he.
+
+Satan finds his tongue again.
+
+"Give it back?" repeats Levi, and a pause ensues. "Of course I'll give
+it back; and I wash my hands of it and you, and you're throwing away ten
+thoushand poundsh for _nothing_."
+
+Levi was taking out his keys as he spoke, and as he fumbled them over
+one by one, he said--
+
+"You'll want a lawyer in the Insholwent Court, and you'd find Mishter
+Sholomonsh azh shatisfactory a shengleman azh any in London. He'sh an
+auctioneer, too; and there'sh no good in your meetin' that friendly cove
+here to-morrow, for he'sh one o' them honourable chaps, and he'll never
+look at you after your schedule's lodged, and the shooner that'sh done
+the better; and them women we was courting, won't they laugh!"
+
+Hereupon, with great alacrity, Mr. Levi began to apply the key to the
+lock.
+
+"Don't mind. Keep it; and mind, you d----d little swindler, so sure as
+you stand there, if you play me a trick, I'll blow your brains out, if
+it were in the police-office!"
+
+Mr. Levi looked hard at him, and nodded. He was accustomed to excited
+language in certain situations.
+
+"Well," said he coolly, a second time returning the keys to his pocket,
+"your friend will be here at twelve to-morrow, and if you please him as
+well as he expects, who knows wha-at may be? If he leavesh you half hish
+money, you'll not 'ave many bill transhactionsh on your handsh."
+
+"May God Almighty have mercy on me!" groans Sir Richard, hardly above
+his breath.
+
+"You shall have the cheques then. He'll be here all right."
+
+"I--I forget; did you say an hour?"
+
+Levi repeats the hour. Sir Richard walks slowly to the stairs, down
+which Levi lights him. Neither speaks.
+
+In a few minutes more the young gentleman is driving rapidly to his town
+house, where he means to end that long-remembered night.
+
+When he had got to his room, and dismissed his valet, he sat down. He
+looked round, and wondered how collected he now was. The situation
+seemed like a dream, or his sense of danger had grown torpid. He could
+not account for the strange indifference that had come over him. He got
+quickly into bed. It was late, and he exhausted, and aided, I know not
+by what narcotic, he slept a constrained, odd sleep--black as
+Erebus--the thread of which snaps suddenly, and he is awake with a heart
+beating fast, as if from a sudden start. A hard bitter voice has said
+close by the pillow, "You are the first Arden that ever did that!" and
+with these words grating in his ears, he awoke, and had a confused
+remembrance of having been dreaming of his father.
+
+Another dream, later on, startled him still more. He was in Levi's
+office, and while they were talking over the horrid document, in a
+moment it blew out of the window; and a lean, ill-looking man, in a
+black coat, like the famous person who, in old woodcuts, picked up the
+shadow of Peter Schlemel, caught the parchment from the pavement, and
+with his eyes fixed corner-wise upon him, and a dreadful smile, tapped
+his long finger on the bond, and with wide paces stepped swiftly away
+with it in his hand.
+
+Richard Arden started up in his bed; the cold moisture of terror was
+upon his forehead, and for a moment he did not know where he was, or how
+much of his vision was real. The grey twilight of early morning was over
+the town. He welcomed the light; he opened the window-shutters wide. He
+looked from the window down upon the street. A lean man with tattered
+black, with a hammer in his hand, just as the man in his dream had held
+the roll of parchment, was slowly stepping with long strides away from
+his house, along the street.
+
+As his thoughts cleared, his panic increased. Nothing had happened
+between the time of his lying down and his up-rising to alter his
+situation, and the same room sees him now half mad.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER LXIX.
+
+THE MEETING.
+
+
+Near the appointed hour, he walked across the park, and through the
+Horse Guards, and in a few minutes more was between the tall
+old-fashioned houses of the street in which Mr. Levi's office is to be
+found. He passes by a dingy hired coach, with a tarnished crest on the
+door, and sees two Jewish-looking men inside, both smiling over some sly
+joke. Whose door are they waiting at? He supposes another Jewish office
+seeks the shade of that pensive street.
+
+Mr. Levi opened his office door for his handsome client. They were quite
+to themselves. Mr. Levi did not look well. He received him with a nod.
+He shut the door when Sir Richard was in the room.
+
+"He'sh not come yet. We'll talk to him inshide." He indicates the door
+of the inner room, with a little side jerk of his head. "That'sh
+private. He hazh that--_thing_ all right."
+
+Sir Richard says nothing. He follows Levi into a small inner room, which
+had, perhaps, originally been a lady's boudoir, and had afterwards, one
+might have conjectured, served as the treasury of cash and jewels of a
+pawn-office; for its door was secured with iron bars, and two great
+locks, and the windows were well barred with iron. There were two huge
+iron safes in the room, built into the wall.
+
+"I'll show you a beauty of a dresshing-ca-ashe," said Levi, rousing
+himself; "I'll shell it a dead bargain, and give time for half, if you
+knowsh any young shwell as wantsh such a harticle. Look here; it was
+made for the Duchess of Horleans--all in gold, hemerald, and
+brilliantsh."
+
+And thus haranguing, he displayed its contents, and turned them over,
+staring on them with a livid admiration. Sir Richard is not thinking of
+the duchess's dressing-case, nor is he much more interested when Mr.
+Levi goes on to tell him, "There'sh three executions against peersh out
+thish week--two gone down to the country. Sholomonsh nobbled Lord
+Bylkington's carriage outshide Shyner's at two o'clock in the morning,
+and his lordship had to walk home in the rain;" and Levi laughs and
+wriggles pleasantly over the picture. "I think he'sh coming," says Levi
+suddenly, inclining his ear toward the door. He looked back over his
+shoulder with an odd look, a little stern, at the young gentleman.
+
+"Who?" asked the young man, a little uncertain, in consequence of the
+character of that look.
+
+"Your--that--your friend, of course," said Levi, with his eyes again
+averted, and his ear near the door.
+
+It was a moment of trepidation and of hope to Richard Arden. He hears
+the steps of several persons in the next room. Levi opens a little bit
+of the door, and peeps through, and with a quick glance towards the
+baronet, he whispers, "Ay, it's him."
+
+Oh, blessed hope! here comes, at last, a powerful friend to take him by
+the hand, and draw him, in his last struggle, from the whirlpool.
+
+Sir Richard glances towards the door through which the Jew is still
+looking, and signing with his hand as, little by little, he opens it
+wider and wider; and a voice in the next room, at sound of which Sir
+Richard starts to his feet, says sharply, "Is all right?"
+
+"All _right_," replies Levi, getting aside; and Mr. Longcluse entered
+the room and shut the door.
+
+His pale face looked paler than usual, his thin cruel lips were closed,
+his nostrils dilated with a terrible triumph, and his eyes were fixed
+upon Arden, as he held the fatal parchment in his hand.
+
+Levi saw a scowl so dreadful contract Sir Richard Arden's face--was it
+pain, or was it fury?--that, drawing back as far as the wall would let
+him, he almost screamed, "It ain't me!--it ain't my fault!--I can't help
+it!--I couldn't!--I can't!" His right hand was in his pocket, and his
+left, trembling violently, extended toward him, as if to catch his arm.
+
+But Richard Arden was not thinking of him--did not hear him. He was
+overpowered. He sat down in his chair. He leaned back with a gasp and a
+faint laugh, like a man just overtaken by a wave, and lifted
+half-drowned from the sea. Then, with a sudden cry, he threw his hands
+and head on the table.
+
+There was no token of relenting in Longcluse's cruel face. There was a
+contemptuous pleasure in it. He did not remove his eyes from that
+spectacle of abasement as he replaced the parchment in his pocket. There
+is a silence of about a minute, and Sir Richard sits up and says
+vaguely,--
+
+"Thank God, it's over! Take me away; I'm ready to go."
+
+"You shall go, time enough; I have a word to say first," said Longcluse,
+and he signs to the Jew to leave them.
+
+On being left to themselves, the first idea that struck Sir Richard was
+the wild one of escape. He glanced quickly at the window. It was barred
+with iron. There were men in the next room--he could not tell how
+many--and he was without arms. The hope lighted up, and almost at the
+same moment expired.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER LXX.
+
+MR. LONGCLUSE PROPOSES.
+
+
+"Clear your head," says Mr. Longcluse, sternly, seating himself before
+Sir Richard, with the table between; "you must conceive a distinct idea
+of your situation, Sir, and I shall then tell you something that
+remains. You have committed a forgery under aggravated circumstances,
+for which I shall have you convicted and sentenced to penal servitude at
+the next sessions. I have been a good friend to you on many occasions;
+you have been a false one to me--who baser?--and while I was anonymously
+helping you with large sums of money, you forged my name to a legal
+instrument for ten thousand pounds, to swindle your unknown benefactor,
+little suspecting who he was."
+
+Longcluse smiled.
+
+"I have heard how you spoke of me. I'm an adventurer, a leg, an
+assassin, a person whom you were compelled to drop; rather a low person,
+I fear, if a felon can't afford to sit beside me! You were always too
+fine a man for me. Your get up was always peculiar; you were famous for
+that. It will soon be more singular still, when your hair and your
+clothes are cut after the fashion of the great world you are about to
+enter. How your friends will laugh!"
+
+Sir Richard heard all this with a helpless stare.
+
+"I have only to stamp on the ground, to call up the men who will
+accomplish your transformation. I can change your life by a touch, into
+convict dress, diet, labour, lodging, for the rest of your days. What
+plea have you to offer to my mercy?"
+
+Sir Richard would have spoken, but his voice failed him. With a second
+effort, however, he said--"Would it not be more manly if you let me meet
+my fate, without this."
+
+"And you are such an admirable judge of what is manly, or even
+gentlemanlike!" said Longcluse. "Now, mind, I shall arrest you in five
+minutes, on your three over-due bills. The men with the writ are in the
+next room. I sha'n't immediately arrest you for the forgery. That shall
+hang over you. I mean to make you, for a while, my instrument. Hear, and
+understand; I mean to marry your sister. She don't like me, but she
+suits me; I have chosen her, and I'll not be baulked. When that is
+accomplished, you are safe. No man likes to see his brother a spectacle
+of British justice, with cropped hair, and a log to his foot. I may hate
+and despise you, as you deserve, but that would not do. Failing that,
+however, you shall have justice, I promise you. The course I propose
+taking is this: you shall be arrested here, for _debt_. You will be good
+enough to allow the people who take you, to select your present place of
+confinement. It is arranged. I will then, by a note, appoint a place of
+meeting for this evening, where I shall instruct you as to the
+particulars of that course of conduct I prescribe for you. If you mean
+to attempt an escape, you had better try it _now_; I will give you
+fourteen hours' start, and undertake to catch and bring you back to
+London as a forger. If you make up your mind to submit to fate, and do
+precisely as you are ordered, you may emerge. But on the slightest
+evasion, prevarication, or default, the blow descends. In the meantime
+we treat each other civilly before these people. Levi is in my hands,
+and you, I presume, keep your own secret."
+
+"That is all?" inquired Sir Richard, faintly, after a minute's silence.
+
+"All for the _present_," was the reply; "you will see more clearly,
+by-and-by, that you are my property, and you will act accordingly."
+
+The two Jewish-looking gentlemen, whom Richard had passed in a
+conference in their carriage which stood now at the steps of the house,
+were the sheriff's officers destined to take charge of the fallen
+gentleman, and convey him, by Levi's direction, to a "sponging house,"
+which, I believe, belonged jointly to him and his partner, Mr. Goldshed.
+
+It was on the principle, perhaps, on which hunters tame wild beasts, by
+a sojourn at the bottom of a pit-fall, that Mr. Longcluse doomed the
+young baronet to some ten hours' solitary contemplation of his hopeless
+immeshment in that castle of Giant Despair, before taking him out and
+setting him again before him, for the purpose of instructing him in the
+conditions and duties of the direful life on which he was about to
+enter.
+
+Mr. Longcluse left the baronet suddenly, and returned to Levi's office
+no more.
+
+Sir Richard's _rôle_ was cast. He was to figure, at least first, as a
+captive in the drama for which fate had selected him. He had no wish to
+retard the progress of the piece. Nothing more odious than his present
+situation was likely to come.
+
+"You have something to say to me?" said the baronet, making tender, as
+it were, of himself. The offer was, obligingly, accepted, and the
+sheriffs, by his lieutenants, made prisoner of Sir Richard Arden, who
+strode down the stairs between them, and entered the seedy coach, and
+sitting as far back as he could, drove rapidly toward the City.
+
+Stunned and confused, there was but one image vividly present to his
+recollection, and that was the baleful face of Walter Longcluse.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER LXXI.
+
+NIGHT.
+
+
+At about eight o'clock that evening, a hurried note reached Alice Arden,
+at Mortlake. It was from her brother, and said,--
+
+    "MY DARLING ALICE,
+
+    "I can't get away from town to-night, I am overwhelmed with
+    business; but to-morrow, before dinner, I hope to see you, and stay
+    at Mortlake till next morning.--Your affectionate brother,
+
+    "DICK."
+
+The house was quiet earlier than in former times, when Sir Reginald, of
+rakish memory, was never in his bed till past three o'clock in the
+morning. Mortlake was an early house now, and all was still by a quarter
+past eleven. The last candle burning was usually that in Mrs. Tansey's
+room. She had not yet gone to bed, and was still in "the housekeeper's
+room," when a tapping came at the window. It reminded her of Mr.
+Longcluse's visit on the night of the funeral.
+
+She was now the only person up in the house, except Alice, who was at
+the far side of the building, where, in the next room, her maid was in
+bed asleep. Alice, who sat at her dressing-table, reading, with her long
+rich hair dishevelled over her shoulders, was, of course, quite out of
+hearing.
+
+Martha went to the window with a little frown of uncertainty. Opening a
+bit of the shutter, she saw Sir Richard's face close to her. Was ever
+old housekeeper so pestered by nightly tappings at her window-pane?
+
+"La! who'd a thought o' seeing you, Master Richard! why, you told Miss
+Alice you'd not be here till to-morrow!" she says pettishly, holding the
+candle high above her head.
+
+He makes a sign of caution to her, and placing his lips near the pane,
+says,--
+
+"Open the window the least bit in life."
+
+With a dark stare in his face, she obeys. An odd approach, surely, for a
+master to make to his own house!
+
+"No one up in the house but you?" he whispers, as soon as the window is
+open.
+
+"Not one!"
+
+"Don't say a word, only listen: come, softly, round to the hall-door,
+and let me in; and light those candles there, and bring them with you to
+the hall. Don't let a creature know I have been here, and make no noise
+for your life!"
+
+The old woman nodded with the same little frown; and he, pointing toward
+the hall door, walks away silently in that direction.
+
+"What makes you look so white and dowley?" mutters the old woman, as she
+secures the window, and bars the shutters again.
+
+"Good creature!" whispers Sir Richard, as he enters the hall, and places
+his hand kindly on her shoulder, and with a very dark look; "you have
+always been true to me, Martha, and I depend on your good sense; not a
+word of my having been here to any one--not to Miss Alice! I have to
+search for papers. I shall be here but an hour or so. Don't lock or bar
+the door, mind, and get to your bed! Don't come up this way
+again--good-night!"
+
+"Won't you have some supper?"
+
+"No, thanks."
+
+"A glass of sherry and a bit o' something?"
+
+"Nothing."
+
+And he places his hand on her shoulder gently, and looks toward the
+corridor that led to her room; then taking up one of the candles she had
+left alight on the table in the hall, he says,--
+
+"I'll give you a light," and he repeats, with a wondrous heavy sigh,
+"Good-night, dear old Martha."
+
+"God bless ye, Master Dick. Ye must chirp up a bit, mind," she says very
+kindly, with an earnest look in her face. "I'm getting to rest--ye
+needn't fear me walkin' about to trouble ye. But ye must be careful to
+shut the hall-door close. I agree, as it is a thing to be done; but ye
+must also knock at my bed-room window when ye've gane out, for I must
+get up, and lock the door, and make a' safe; and don't ye forget, Master
+Richard, what I tell ye."
+
+He held the candle at the end of the corridor, down which the wiry old
+woman went quickly; and when he returned to the hall, and set the candle
+down again, he felt faint. In his ears are ever the terrible words:
+"Mind, _I_ take command of the house, _I_ dispose of and appoint the
+servants; I don't appear, you do all ostensibly--but from garret to
+cellar, I'm _master_. I'll look it over, and tell you what is to be
+done."
+
+Sir Richard roused himself, and having listened at the staircase, he
+very softly opened the hall-door. The spire of the old church showed
+hoar in the moonlight. At the left, from under a deep shadow of elms,
+comes silently a tall figure, and softly ascends the hall-door steps.
+The door is closed gently.
+
+Alice sitting at her dressing-table, half an hour later, thought she
+heard steps--lowered her book, and listened. But no sound followed.
+Again the same light foot-falls disturbed her--and again, she was
+growing nervous. Once more she heard them, very stealthily, and now on
+the same floor on which her room was. She stands up breathless. There is
+no noise now. She was thinking of waking her maid, but she remembered
+that she and Louisa Diaper had in a like alarm, discovered old Martha,
+only two or three nights before, poking about the china-closet, dusting
+and counting, at one o'clock in the morning, and had then exacted a
+promise that she would visit that repository no more, except at
+seasonable hours. But old Martha was so pig-headed, and would take it
+for granted that she was fast asleep, and would rather fidget through
+the house and poke up everything at that hour than at any other.
+
+Quite persuaded of this, Alice takes her candle, determined to scold
+that troublesome old thing, against whom she is fired with the
+irritation that attends on a causeless fright. She walks along the
+gallery quickly, in slippers, flowing dressing-gown and hair, with her
+candle in her hand, to the head of the stairs, through the great window
+of which the moonlight streams brightly. Through the keyhole of the door
+at the opposite side, a ray of candlelight is visible, and from this
+room opens the china-closet, which is no doubt the point of attraction
+for the troublesome visitant. Holding the candle high in her left hand,
+Alice opens the door.
+
+What she sees is this--a pair of candles burning on a small table, on
+which, with a pencil, Mr. Longcluse is drawing, it seems, with care, a
+diagram; at the same moment he raises his eyes, and Richard Arden, who
+is standing with one hand placed on the table over which he is leaning a
+little, looks quickly round, and rising walks straight to the door,
+interposing between her and Longcluse.
+
+"Oh, Alice? You didn't expect me: I'm very busy, looking for--looking
+over papers. Don't mind."
+
+He had placed his hands gently on her shoulders, and she receded as he
+advanced.
+
+"Oh! it don't matter. I thought--I thought--I did not know."
+
+She was smiling her best. She was horrified. He looked like a ghost.
+Alice was gazing piteously in his face, and with a little laugh, she
+began to cry convulsively.
+
+"What is the matter with the little fool! There, there--don't,
+don't--nonsense!"
+
+With an effort she recovered herself.
+
+"Only a little startled, Dick; I did not think you were
+there--good-night."
+
+And she hastened back to her chamber, and locked the door; and running
+into her maid's room, sat down on the side of her bed, and wept
+hysterically. To the imploring inquiries of her maid, she repeated only
+the words, "I am frightened," and left her in a startled perplexity.
+
+She knew that Longcluse had seen her, and he, that she had seen him.
+Their eyes had met. He saw with a bleak rage the contracting look of
+horror, so nearly hatred, that she fixed on him for a breathless moment.
+There was a tremor of fury at his heart, as if it could have sprung at
+her, from his breast, at her throat, and murdered her; and--she looked
+so beautiful! He gazed with an idolatrous admiration. Tears were welling
+to his eyes, and yet he would have laughed to see her weltering on the
+floor. A madman for some tremendous seconds!
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER LXXII.
+
+MEASURES.
+
+
+About twelve o'clock next day Richard Arden showed himself at Mortlake.
+It was a beautiful autumnal day, and the mellow sun fell upon a foliage
+that was fading into russet and yellow. Alice was looking out from the
+open window, on the noble old timber whose wide-spread boughs and
+thinning leaves caught the sunbeams pleasantly. She had heard her
+brother and his companion go down the stairs, and saw them, from the
+window, walk quickly down the avenue, till the trees hid them from view.
+She thought that some of the servants were up, and that the door was
+secured on their departure; and the effect of the shock she had received
+gradually subsiding, she looked to her next interview with her brother
+for an explanation of the occurrence which had so startled her.
+
+That interview was approaching; the cab drove up to the steps, and her
+brother got out. Anxiously she looked, but no one followed him, and the
+driver shut the cab-door. Sir Richard kissed his hand to her, as she
+stood in the window.
+
+From the hall the house opens to the right and left, in two suites of
+rooms. The room in which Alice stood was called the sage-room, from its
+being hung in sage-green leather, stamped in gold. It is a small room to
+the left, and would answer very prettily for a card party or a
+_tête-à-tête_. Alice had her work, her books, and her music there; she
+liked it because the room was small and cheery.
+
+The door opened, and her brother comes in.
+
+"Good Dick, to come so early! welcome, darling," she said, putting her
+arms about his neck, as he stooped and kissed her, smiling.
+
+He looked very ill, and his smile was painful.
+
+"That was an odd little visit I paid last night," said he, with his dark
+eyes fixed on her, inquiringly she thought--"very late--quite
+unexpected. You are quite well to-day?--you look flourishing."
+
+"I wish I could say as much for you, Dick; I'm afraid you are tiring
+yourself to death."
+
+"I had some one with me last night," said Sir Richard, with his eye
+still upon her; "I--I don't know whether you perceived that."
+
+Alice looked away, and then said carelessly, but very gravely--
+
+"I did--I saw Mr. Longcluse. I could not believe my eyes, Dick. You must
+promise me one thing."
+
+"What is that?"
+
+"That he sha'n't come into this house any more--while I am here, I
+mean."
+
+"That is easily promised," said he.
+
+"And what did he come about, Dick?"
+
+"Oh! he came--he came--I thought I told you; he came about papers. I did
+not tell you; but he has, after all, turned out very friendly. He is
+going to do me a very important service."
+
+She looked very much surprised.
+
+The young man glanced through the window, to which he walked; he seemed
+embarrassed, and then turning to her, he said peevishly--
+
+"You seem to think, Alice, that one can never make a mistake, or change
+an opinion."
+
+"But I did not say so; only, Dick, I must tell you that I have such a
+horror of that man--a _terror_ of him--as nothing can ever get over."
+
+"I'm to blame for that."
+
+"No, I can't say you are. I don't mind stories so much as----"
+
+"As what?"
+
+"As looks."
+
+"Looks! Why, you used to think him a gentlemanly-looking fellow, and so
+he is."
+
+"Looks _and language_," said Alice.
+
+"I thought he was a very civil fellow."
+
+"I sha'n't dispute anything. I suppose you have found him a good friend
+after all, as you say."
+
+"As good a friend as most men," said Sir Richard, growing pale; "they
+all act from interest: where interests are the same, men are friends.
+But he has saved me from a great deal, and he may do more; and I believe
+I was too hasty about those stories, and I think you were right when you
+refused to believe them without proof."
+
+"I daresay--I don't know--I believe my senses--and all I say is this, if
+Mr. Longcluse is to come here any more, I must go. He is no gentleman, I
+think--that is, I can't describe how I dislike him--how I hate him! I'm
+afraid of him! Dick, you look ill and unhappy: what's the matter?"
+
+"I'm well enough--I'm better; we shall be better--all better by-and-by.
+I wish the next five weeks were over! We must leave this, we must go to
+Arden Court; I will send some of the servants there first. I am going to
+tell them now, they must get the house ready. You shall keep your maid
+here with you; and when all is ready in Yorkshire, we shall be
+off--Alice, Alice, don't mind me--I'm miserable--mad!" he says suddenly,
+and covers his face with his hands, and, for the first time for years,
+he is crying bitter tears.
+
+Alice was by his side, alarmed, curious, grieved; and with all these
+emotions mingling in her dark eyes and beautiful features, as she drew
+his hand gently away, with a rush of affectionate entreaties and
+inquiries.
+
+"It is all very fine, Alice," he exclaims, with a sudden bitterness;
+"but I don't believe, to save me from destruction, you would sacrifice
+one of your least caprices, or reconcile one of your narrowest
+prejudices."
+
+"What can you mean, dear Richard? only tell me how I can be of any use.
+You can't mean, of course----"
+
+She stops with a startled look at him. "You know, dear Dick, that was
+always out of the question: and surely you have heard that Lord
+Wynderbroke is to be married to Grace Maubray? It is all settled."
+
+Quite another thought had been in Richard's mind, but he was glad to
+accept Alice's conjecture.
+
+"Yes, so it is--so, at least, it is said to be--but I am so worried and
+distracted, I half forget things. Girls are such jolly fools; they throw
+good men away, and lose themselves. What is to become of you, Alice, if
+things go wrong with me! I think the old times were best, when the old
+people settled who was to marry whom, and there was no disputing their
+decision, and marriages were just as happy, and courtships a great deal
+simpler; and I am very sure there were fewer secret repinings, and
+broken hearts, and--threadbare old maids. Don't _you_ be a fool, Alice;
+mind what I say."
+
+He is leaving the room, but pauses at the door, and returns and places
+his hand on her arm, looking in her face, and says--
+
+"Yes, mind what I say, for God's sake, and we may all be a great deal
+happier."
+
+He kisses her, and is gone. Her eyes follow him, as she thinks with a
+sigh--
+
+"How strange Dick is growing! I'm afraid he has been playing again, and
+losing. It must have been something very urgent that induced him to make
+it up again with that low malignant man; and this break-up, and journey
+to Arden Court! I think I should prefer being there. There is something
+ominous about this place, picturesque as it is, and much as I like it.
+But the journey to Yorkshire is only another of the imaginary excursions
+Dick has been proposing every fortnight; and next year, and the year
+after, will find us, I suppose, just where we are."
+
+But this conjecture, for once, was mistaken. It was, this time, a
+veritable break-up and migration; for Martha Tansey came in, with the
+importance of a person who has a matter of moment to talk over.
+
+"Here's something sudden, Miss Alice; I suppose you've heard. Off to
+Arden Court in the mornin'. Crozier and me; the footman discharged, and
+you to follow with Master Richard in a week."
+
+"Oh, then, it _is_ settled. Well, Martha, I am not sorry, and I daresay
+you and Crozier won't be sorry to see old Yorkshire faces again, and the
+Court, and the rookery, and the orchard."
+
+"I don't mind; glad enough to see a'ad faces, but I'm a bit o'er a'ad
+myself for such sudden flittins, and Manx and Darwent, and the rest, is
+to go by night train to-morrow, and not a housemaid left in Mortlake.
+But Master Richard says a's provided, and 'twill be but a few days after
+a's done; and ye'll be down, then, at Arden by the middle o' next week,
+and I'm no sa sure the change mayn't serve ye; and as your uncle, Master
+David, and Lady May Penrose, and Miss Maubray--a strackle-brained lass
+she is, I doubt--and to think o' that a'ad fule, Lord Wynderbroke,
+takin' sich a young, bonny hizzy to wife! La bless ye, she'll play the
+hangment wi' that a'ad gowk of a lord, and all his goold guineas won't
+do. His kist o' money won't hod na time, I warrant ye, when once that
+lassie gets her pretty fingers under the lid. There'll be gaains on in
+that house, I warrant, not but he's a gude man, and a fine gentleman as
+need be," she added, remembering her own strenuous counsel in his
+favour, when he was supposed to be paying his court to Alice; "and if he
+was mated wi' a gude lassie, wi' gude blude in her veins, would
+doubtless keep as honourable a house, and hod his head as high as any
+lord o' them a'. But as I was saying, Miss Alice, now that Master David,
+and Lady May, and Miss Maubray, has left Lunnon, there's no one here to
+pay ye a visit, and ye'd be fairly buried alive here in Mortlake, and
+ye'll be better, and sa will we a', down at Arden, for a bit; and
+there's gentle folk down there as gude as ever rode in Lunnon streets,
+mayhap, and better; and mony a squire, that ony leddy in the land might
+be proud to marry, and not one but would be glad to match wi' an Arden."
+
+"That is a happy thought," said Alice, laughing.
+
+"And so it is, and no laughing matter," said Martha, a little offended,
+as she stalked out of the room, and closed the door, grandly, after her.
+
+"And God bless you, dear old Martha," said the young lady, looking
+towards the door through which she had just passed; "the truest and
+kindest soul on earth."
+
+Sir Richard did not come back. She saw him no more that evening.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER LXXIII.
+
+AT THE BAR OF THE "GUY OF WARWICK."
+
+
+Next evening there came, not Richard, but a note saying that he would
+see Alice the moment he could get away from town. As the old servant
+departed northward, her solitude for the first time began to grow
+irksome, and as the night approached, worse even than gloomy.
+
+Her extemporised household made her laugh. It was not even a skeleton
+establishment. The kitchen department had dwindled to a single person,
+who ordered her luncheon and dinner, only two or three _plats_, daily,
+from the "Guy of Warwick." The housemaid's department was undertaken by
+a single servant, a short, strong woman of some sixty years of age.
+
+This person puzzled Alice a good deal. She came to her, like the others,
+with a note from her brother, stating her name, and that he had engaged
+her for the few days they meant to remain roughing it at Mortlake, and
+that he had received a very good account of her.
+
+This woman has not a bad countenance. There is, indeed, no tenderness in
+it; but there is a sort of hard good-humour. There are quickness and
+resolution. She talks fluently of herself and her qualifications, and
+now and then makes a short curtsey. But she takes no notice of any one
+of Alice's questions.
+
+A silence sometimes follows, during which Alice repeats her
+interrogatory perhaps twice, with growing indignation, and then the new
+comer breaks into a totally independent talk, and leaves the young lady
+wondering at her disciplined impertinence. It was not till her second
+visit that she enlightened her.
+
+"I did not send for you. You can go!" said Alice.
+
+"I don't like a house that has children in it, they gives a deal o'
+trouble," said the woman.
+
+"But I say you may go; you must go, please."
+
+The woman looked round the room.
+
+"When I was with Mrs. Montgomery, she had five, three girls and two
+boys; la! there never was five such----"
+
+"Go, this moment, please, I insist on your going; do you hear me, pray?"
+
+But so far from answering, or obeying, this cool intruder continues her
+harangue before Miss Arden gets half way to the end of her little
+speech.
+
+"That woman was the greatest fool alive--nothing but spoiling and
+petting--I could not stand it no longer, so I took Master Tommy by the
+lug, and pulled him out of the kitchen, the limb, along the passage to
+the stairs, every inch, and I gave him a slap in the face, the fat young
+rascal; you could hear all over the house! and didn't he rise the roof!
+So missus and me, we quarrelled upon it."
+
+"If you don't leave the room, _I_ must; and I shall tell my brother, Sir
+Richard, how you have behaved yourself; and you may rely upon it----"
+
+But here again she is overpowered by the strong voice of her visitor.
+
+"It was in my next place, at Mr. Crump's, I took cold in my head, very
+bad, Miss, indeed, looking out of window to see two fellows fighting, in
+the lane--in both ears--and so I lost my hearing, and I've been deaf as
+a post ever since!"
+
+Alice could not resist a laugh at her own indignant eloquence quite
+thrown away; and she hastily wrote with a pencil on a slip of paper:--
+
+"Please don't come to me except when I send for you."
+
+"La! Ma'am, I forgot!" exclaims the woman, when she had examined it; "my
+orders was not to read any of _your_ writing."
+
+"Not to read any of my writing!" said Alice, amazed; "then, how am I to
+tell you what I wish about anything?" she inquires, for the moment
+forgetting that not one word of her question was heard. The woman makes
+a curtsey and retires. "What can Richard have meant by giving her such a
+direction? I'll ask him when he comes."
+
+It was likely enough that the woman had misunderstood him, still she
+began to wish the little interval destined to be passed at Mortlake
+before her journey to Yorkshire, ended.
+
+She told her maid, Louisa Diaper, to go down to the kitchen and find out
+all she could as to what people were in the house, and what duties they
+had undertaken, and when her brother was likely to arrive.
+
+Louisa Diaper, slim, elegant, and demure, descended among these
+barbarous animals. She found in the kitchen, unexpectedly, a male
+stranger, a small, slight man, with great black eyes, a big sullen
+mouth, a sallow complexion, and a profusion of black ringlets. The deaf
+woman was conning over some writing of his on a torn-off blank leaf of a
+letter, and he was twiddling about the pencil, with which he had just
+traced it, in his fingers, and, in a singing drawl, holding forth to the
+other woman, who, with a long and high canvas apron on, and the handle
+of an empty saucepan in her right hand, stood gaping at him, with her
+arms hanging by her sides.
+
+On the appearance of Miss Diaper, Mr. Levi, for he it was, directs his
+solemn conversation to that young lady.
+
+"I was just telling them about the robberies in the City and Wesht Hend.
+La! there'sh bin nothin' like it for twenty year. They don't tell them
+in the papersh, blesh ye! The 'ome Shecretary takesh precious good care
+o' that; they don't want to frighten every livin' shoul out of London.
+But there'll be talk of it in Parliament, I promish you. I know three
+opposition membersh myshelf that will move the 'oushe upon it next
+session."
+
+Mr. Levi wagged his head darkly as he made this political revelation.
+
+"Thish day twel'month the number o' burglariesh in London and the West
+Hend, including Hizzlington, was no more than fifteen and a half a
+night; and two robberiesh attended with wiolensh. What wazh it lasht
+night? I have it in confidensh, from the polishe offish thish morning."
+
+He pulled a pocket-book, rather greasy, from his breast, and from this
+depositary, it is to be presumed, of statistical secrets, he read the
+following official memorandum:--
+
+"Number of 'oushes burglarioushly hentered lasht night, including
+private banksh, charitable hinshtitutions, shops, lodging-'oushes,
+female hacadamies, and private dwellings, and robbed with more or less
+wiolench, one thoushand sheven hundred and shixty-sheven. We regret to
+hadd," he continued, the official return stealing, as it proceeded,
+gradually into the style of "The Pictorial Calendar of British Crime," a
+half-penny paper which he took in--"this hinundation of crime seems
+flowing, or rayther rushing northward, and hazh already enweloped
+Hizhlington, where a bald-headed clock and watch maker, named Halexander
+Goggles, wazh murdered with his sheven shmall children, with
+unigshampled ba-arba-arity."
+
+Mr. Levi eyed the women horribly all round as he ended the sentence, and
+he added,--
+
+"Hizhlington'sh only down there. It ain't five minutesh walk; only a
+pleasant shtep; just enough to give a fellow azh has polished off a
+family there a happetite for another up here. Azh I 'ope to be shaved, I
+shleep every night with a pair of horshe pishtols, a blunderbush, and a
+shabre by my bed; and Shir Richard wantsh every door in the 'oushe fasht
+locked, and the keysh with him, before dark, thish evening, except only
+such doors as you want open; and he gave me a note to Miss Harden." And
+he placed the note in Miss Diaper's hand. "He wantsh the 'oushe a bit
+more schecure," he added, following her towards the hall. "He wishes to
+make you and she quite shafe, and out of harm's way, if anything should
+occur. It will be only a few days, you know, till you're both away."
+
+The effect of this little alarm, accompanied by Sir Richard's note, was
+that Mr. Levi carried out a temporary arrangement, which assigned the
+suite of apartments in which Alice's room was as those to which she
+would restrict herself during the few days she was to remain there, the
+rest of the house, except the kitchen and a servant's room or two
+down-stairs, being locked up.
+
+By the time Mr. Levi had got the keys together, and all safe in
+Mortlake, the sun had set, and in the red twilight that followed he set
+off in his cab towards town. At the "Guy of Warwick"--from the bar of
+which already was flaring a good broad gas-light--he stopped and got
+out. There was a full view of the bar from where he stood; and,
+pretending to rummage his pockets for something, he was looking in to
+see whether "the coast was clear."
+
+"She's just your sort--not too bad and not too good--not too nashty, and
+not too nishe; a good-humoured lash, rough and ready, and knowsh a thing
+or two."
+
+"Ye're there, are ye?" inquired Mr. Levi, playfully, as he crossed the
+door-stone, and placed his fists on the bar grinning.
+
+"What will you take, Sir, please?" inquired the young woman, at one side
+of whom was the usual row of taps and pump-handles.
+
+"Now, Miss Phoebe, give me a brandy and shoda, pleashe. When I talked to
+you in thish 'ere place 'tother night, you wished to engage for a lady's
+maid. What would you shay to me, if I was to get you a firsht-chop
+tip-top pla-ashe of the kind? Well, don't you shay a word--that brandy
+ain't fair measure--and I'll tell you. It'sh a la-ady of ra-ank! where
+wagesh ish no-o object; and two years' savings, and a good match with a
+well-to-do 'andsome young fellow, will set you hup in a better place
+than this 'ere."
+
+"It comes very timely, Sir, for I'm to leave to-morrow, and I was
+thinking of going home to my uncle in a day or two, in Chester."
+
+"Well it's all settled. Come you down to my offishe, you know where it
+is, to-morrow, at three, and I'll 'av all partickulars for you, and a
+note to the lady from her brother, the baronet; and if you be a good
+girl, and do as you're bid, you'll make a little fortune of it."
+
+She curtsied, with her eyes very round, as he, with a wag of his head
+drank down what remained of his brandy and soda, and wiping his mouth
+with his glove, he said, "Three o'clock sha-arp, mind; good-bye, Phoebe,
+lass, and don't you forget all I said."
+
+He stood ungallantly with his back towards her on the threshold lighting
+a cigar, and so soon as he had it in his own phrase, "working at high
+blast," he got into his cab, and jingled towards his office, with all
+his keys about him.
+
+While Miss Arden remained all unconscious, and even a little amused at
+the strange shifts to which her brief stay and extemporised household at
+Mortlake exposed her, a wily and determined strategist was drawing his
+toils around her.
+
+The process of isolation was nearly completed, without having once
+excited her suspicions; and, with the same perfidious skill, the house
+itself was virtually undergoing those modifications which best suited
+his designs.
+
+Sir Richard appeared at his club as usual. He was compelled to do so.
+The all-seeing eye of his pale tyrant pursued him everywhere; he lived
+under terror. A dreadful agony all this time convulsed the man, within
+whose heart Longcluse suspected nothing but the serenity of death.
+
+"What easier than to tell the story to the police. Meditated duresse.
+Compulsion. Infernal villain! And then: what then? A pistol to his head,
+a flash, and--darkness!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER LXXIV.
+
+A LETTER.
+
+
+Mr. Longcluse knocked at Sir Richard's house in May Fair, and sent
+up-stairs for the baronet. It was about the same hour at which Mr. Levi
+was drinking his thirsty potation of brandy and soda at the "Guy of
+Warwick." The streets were darker than that comparatively open place,
+and the gas lamp threw its red outline of the sashes upon the dark
+ceiling, as Mr. Longcluse stood in the drawing-room between the windows,
+in his great-coat, with his hat on, looking in the dark like an image
+made of fog.
+
+Sir Richard Arden entered the room.
+
+"You were not at Mortlake to-day," said he.
+
+"No."
+
+"There's a cab at the door that will take you there; your absence for a
+whole day would excite surmise. Don't stay more than five minutes, and
+don't mention Louisa Diaper's name, and account for the locking up of
+all the house, but one suite of rooms, I directed, and come to my house
+in Bolton Street, direct from Mortlake. That's all."
+
+Without another word, Mr. Longcluse took his departure.
+
+In this cavalier way, and in a cold tone that conveyed all the menace
+and insult involved in his ruined position, had this conceited young man
+been ordered about by his betrayer, on his cruel behests, ever since he
+had come under his dreadful rod. The iron trap that held him fast,
+locked him in a prison from which, except through the door of death,
+there seemed no escape.
+
+Outraged pride, the terrors of suspense, the shame and remorse of his
+own enormous perfidy against his only sister, peopled it with spectres.
+
+As he drove out to Mortlake, pale, frowning, with folded arms, his
+handsome face thinned and drawn by the cords of pain, he made up his
+mind. He knocked furiously at Mortlake Hall door. The woman in the
+canvas apron let him in. The strange face startled him; he had been
+thinking so intently of one thing. Going up, through the darkened house,
+with but one candle, and tapping at the door, on the floor above the
+drawing-room, within which Alice was sitting, with Louisa Diaper for
+company, and looking at her unsuspicious smile, he felt what a heinous
+conspirator he was.
+
+He made an excuse for sending the maid to the next room after they had
+spoken a few words, and then he said,--
+
+"Suppose, Alice, we were to change our plan, would you like to come
+abroad? Out of this you must come immediately." He was speaking low. "I
+am in great danger; I must go abroad. For your life, don't seem to
+suspect anything. Do exactly as I tell you, or else I am utterly ruined,
+and you, Alice, on your account, very miserable. Don't ask a question,
+or look a look, that may make Louisa Diaper suspect that you have any
+doubt as to your going to Arden, or any suspicion of any danger. She is
+quite true, but not wise, and your left hand must not know what your
+right hand is doing. Don't be frightened, only be steady and calm. Get
+together any jewels and money you have, and as little else as you can
+possibly manage with. Do this yourself; Louisa Diaper must know nothing
+of it. I will mature our plans, and to-morrow or next day I shall see
+you again; I can stay but a moment now, and have but time to bid you
+good-night."
+
+Then he kissed her. How horribly agitated he looked! How cold was the
+pressure of his hand!
+
+"Hush!" he whispered, and his dark eyes were fixed on the door through
+which he expected the return of the maid. And as he heard her step, "Not
+a word, remember!" he said; then bidding her good-night aloud, he
+quitted the room almost as suddenly as he had appeared, leaving her, for
+the first time, in the horrors of a growing panic.
+
+Sir Richard leaned back in the cab as he drove into town. He had as yet
+no plan formed. It was a more complicated exploit than he was at the
+moment equal to. In Mortlake were two fellows, by way of protectors,
+placed there for security of the house and people.
+
+These men held possession of the keys of the house, and sat and regaled
+themselves with their hot punch, or cold brandy and water, and pipes;
+always one awake, and with ears erect, they kept watch and ward in the
+room to the right of the hall-door, in which Sir Richard and Uncle David
+had conversed with the sad Mr. Plumes, on the evening after the old
+baronet's death. To effect Alice's escape, and reserve for himself a
+chance of accomplishing his own, was a problem demanding skill, cunning,
+and audacity.
+
+While he revolved these things an alarm had been sounded in another
+quarter, which unexpectedly opened a chance of extrication, sudden and
+startling.
+
+Mr. Longcluse was destined to a surprise to-night. Mr. Longcluse, at his
+own house, was awaiting the return of Sir Richard. Overlooked in his
+usually accurate though rapid selection, a particularly shabby and
+vulgar-looking letter had been thrown aside among circulars, pamphlets,
+and begging letters, to await his leisure. It was a letter from Paris,
+and vulgar and unbusiness-like as it looked, there was yet, in its
+peculiar scrivenery that which, a little more attentively scanned,
+thrilled him with a terrible misgiving. The post-mark showed it had been
+delivered four days before. When he saw from whom it came, and had
+gathered something of its meaning from a few phrases, his dark eyes
+gleamed and his face grew stern. Was this wretch's hoof to strike to
+pieces the plans he had so nearly matured? The letter was as follows:--
+
+    "SIR,
+
+    "Mr Longcluse, I have been unfortunate With your money which you
+    have Gave me to remove from England, and Keep me in New York. My
+    boxes, and other things, and Ballens of the money in Gold, except
+    about a Hundred pounds, which has kep me from want ever sense, went
+    Down in the Mary Jane, of London, and my cousin went down in her
+    also, which I might as well av Went down myself in her, only for me
+    Stopping in Paris, where I made a trifle of Money, intending to go
+    Out in August. Now, Sir, don't you Seppose I am not in as good
+    Possition as I was when I Harranged with sum difculty With you. The
+    boot with The blood Mark on the Soul is not Lost nor Distroyed, but
+    it is Safe in my Custody; so as Likewise in safe Keeping is The
+    traising, in paper, of the foot Mark in blood on the Floar of the
+    Smoaking Room in question, with the signatures of the witnesses
+    attached; and, Moreover, my Staitment made in the Form of a
+    Information, at the Time, and signed In witness of My signature by
+    two Unekseptinible witnesses. And all Is ready to Produise whenevor
+    his worshop shall Apoynt. i have wrote To mister david Arden on this
+    Supget. i wrote to him just a week ago, he seaming To take a Intrast
+    in this Heer case; and, moreover, the two ieyes that sawd a certain
+    Person about the said smoaking Room, and in the saime, is Boath wide
+    open at This presen Time. mister Longcluse i do not Want to have
+    your Life, but gustice must Taike its coarse unless it is settled of
+    hand Slik. i will harrange the Same as last time, And i must have
+    two hundred And fifty pounds More on this Settlement than i Had last
+    time, for Dellay and loss of Time in this town. I will sign any law
+    paper in reason you may ask of me. My hadress is under cover to
+    Monseer Letexier, air-dresser, and incloses his card, which you Will
+    please send an Anser by return Of post, or else i Must sepose you
+    chose The afare shall take Its coarse; and i am as ever,
+
+    "Your obeediant servant to command,
+    "PAUL DAVIES."
+
+Never did paper look so dazzlingly white, or letters so intensely black,
+before Mr. Longcluse's eyes, as those of this ominous letter. He
+crumpled it up, and thrust it in his trousers pocket, and gave to the
+position a few seconds of intense thought.
+
+His first thought was, what a fool he was for not having driven Davies
+to the wall, and settled the matter with the high hand of the law at
+once. His next, what could bring him to Paris? He was there for
+something. To see possibly the family of Lebas, and collect and dovetail
+pieces of evidence, after his detective practice, a process which would
+be sure to conduct him to the Baron Vanboeren! Was this story of the
+boot and the tracing of the bloodstained foot-print true? Had this
+scoundrel reserved the strongest part of his case for this new
+extortion? Was his trouble to be never ending? If this accursed ferret
+were once to get into his warren, what power could unearth him, till the
+mischief was done?
+
+His eye caught again the words, on which, in the expressive phrase which
+Mr. Davies would have used, his "sight spred" as he held the letter
+before his eyes--"Mister Loncluse, i do not want to have your life." He
+ground his teeth, shook his fist in the air, and stamped on the floor
+with fury, at the thought that a brutal detective, not able to spell two
+words, and trained for such game as London thieves and burglars, should
+dare to hold such language to a man of thought and skill, altogether so
+masterly as he! That he should be outwitted by that clumsy scoundrel!
+
+Well, it was now to begin all over again. It should all go right this
+time. He thought again for a moment, and then sat down and wrote,
+commencing with the date and address--
+
+    "PAUL DAVIES,
+
+    "I have just received your note, which states that you have
+    succeeded in obtaining some additional information, which you think
+    may lead to the conviction of the murderer of M. Lebas, in the
+    Saloon Tavern. I shall be most happy to pay handsomely any expense
+    of any kind you may be put to in that matter. It is, indeed, no more
+    than I had already undertaken. I am glad to learn that you have also
+    written on the subject to Mr. David Arden, who feels entirely with
+    me. I shall take an early opportunity of seeing him. Persist in your
+    laudable exertions, and I shall not shrink from rewarding you
+    handsomely.
+
+    "Yours,
+    "WALTER LONGCLUSE."
+
+He addressed the letter carefully, and went himself and put it in the
+post-office.
+
+By this time Sir Richard Arden was awaiting him at home in his
+drawing-room, and as he walked homeward, under the lamps, in inward
+pain, one might have moralised with Peter Pindar--
+
+    "These fleas have other fleas to bite 'em
+     And so on _ad infinitum_."
+
+The secret tyrant had in his turn found a secret tyrant, not less cruel
+perhaps, but more ignoble.
+
+"You made your visit?" asked Mr. Longcluse.
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Anything to report?"
+
+"Absolutely nothing."
+
+A silence followed.
+
+"Where is Mr. Arden, your uncle?"
+
+"In Scotland."
+
+"How soon does he return?"
+
+"He will not be in town till spring, I believe; he is going abroad, but
+he passes through Southampton on his way to the Continent, on Friday
+next."
+
+"And makes some little stay there?"
+
+"I think he stays one night."
+
+"Then I'll go down and see him, and you shall come with me."
+
+Sir Richard stared.
+
+"Yes, and you had better not put your foot in it; and clear your head of
+all notion of running away," he said, fixing his fiery eyes on Sir
+Richard, with a sudden ferocity that made him fancy that his secret
+thoughts had revealed themselves under that piercing gaze. "It is not
+easy to levant now-a-days, unless one has swifter wings than the wires
+can carry news with; and if you are false, what more do I need than to
+blast you? and with your name in the _Hue-and-Cry_, and a thousand
+pounds reward for the apprehension of Sir Richard Arden, Baronet, for
+forgery, I don't see much more that infamy can do for you."
+
+A dark flush crossed Arden's face as he rose.
+
+"Not a word now," cried Longcluse harshly, extending his hand quickly
+towards him; "I may do that which can't be undone."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER LXXV.
+
+BLIGHT AND CHANGE.
+
+
+Danger to herself, Alice suspected none. But she was full of dreadful
+conjectures about her brother. There was, she was persuaded, no good any
+longer in remonstrance or entreaty. She could not upbraid him; but she
+was sure that the terrible fascination of the gaming-table had caused
+the sudden ruin he vaguely confessed.
+
+"Oh," she often repeated, "that Uncle David were in town, or that I knew
+where to find him!"
+
+"But no doubt," she thought, "Richard will hide nothing from him, and
+perhaps my hinting his disclosures, even to him, would aggravate poor
+Richard's difficulties and misery."
+
+It was not until the next evening that, about the same hour, she again
+saw her brother. His good resolutions in the interval had waxed faint.
+They were not reversed, but only in the spirit of indecision, and
+something of the apathy of despair, postponed to a more convenient
+season.
+
+To her he seemed more tranquil. He said vaguely that the reasons for
+flight were less urgent and that she had better continue her
+preparations, as before, for her journey to Yorkshire.
+
+Even under these circumstances the journey to Yorkshire was pleasant.
+There was comfort in the certainty that he would there be beyond the
+reach of that fatal temptation which had too plainly all but ruined him.
+From the harrassing distractions, also, which in London had of late
+beset him, almost without intermission, he might find in the seclusion
+of Arden a temporary calm. There, with Uncle David's help, there would
+be time, at least, to ascertain the extent of his losses, and what the
+old family of Arden might still count upon as their own, and a plan of
+life might be arranged for the future.
+
+Full of these more cheery thoughts, Alice took leave of her brother.
+
+"I am going," he said, looking at his watch, "direct to Brighton; I have
+just time to get to the station nicely; business, of course--a meeting
+to-night with Bexley, who is staying there, and in the morning a long
+and, I fear, angry discussion with Charrington, who is also at
+Brighton."
+
+He kissed his sister, sighed deeply, and looking in her eyes for a
+little, fixedly, he said--
+
+"Alice, darling, you must try to think what sacrifice you can make to
+save your wretched brother."
+
+Their eyes met as she looked up, her hands about his neck, his on her
+shoulders; he drew his sister to him quickly, and with another kiss,
+turned, ran down stairs, got into his cab, and drove down the avenue.
+She stood looking after him with a heavy heart. How happy they two might
+have been, if it had not been for the one incorrigible insanity!
+
+About an hour later, as the sun was near its setting, she put on her hat
+and short grey cloak, and stepped out into its level beams, and looked
+round smiling. The golden glow and transparent shadows made that
+beautiful face look more than ever lovely. All around the air was
+ringing with the farewell songs of the small birds, and, with a heart
+almost rejoicing in sympathy with that beautiful hour, she walked
+lightly to the old garden, which in that luminous air, looked, she
+thought, so sad and pretty.
+
+The well-worn aphorism of the Frenchman, "History repeats itself," was
+about to assert itself. Sometimes it comes in literal sobriety,
+sometimes in derisive travesti, sometimes in tragic aggravation.
+
+She is in the garden now. The associations of place recall her strange
+interview with Mr. Longcluse but a few months before. Since then a
+blight has fallen on the scenery, and what a change upon the persons!
+The fruit-leaves are yellow now, and drifts of them lie upon the walks.
+Mantling ivy, as before, canopies the door, interlaced with climbing
+roses; but they have long shed their honours. This thick mass of dark
+green foliage and thorny tendrils forms a deep arched porch, in the
+shadow of which, suddenly, as on her return she reached it, she sees Mr.
+Longcluse standing within a step or two of her.
+
+He raises his hand, it might be in entreaty, it might be in menace; she
+could not, in the few alarmed moments in which she gazed at his dark
+eyes and pale equivocal face, determine anything.
+
+"Miss Arden, you may hate me; you can't despise me. You _must_ hear me,
+because you are in my power. I relent, mind you, thus far, that I give
+you one chance more of reconciliation; don't, for God's sake, throw it
+from you!" (he was extending his open hand to receive hers). "Why should
+you prefer an unequal war with me? I tell you frankly you are in my
+power--don't misunderstand me--in _my power_ to this degree, that you
+shall _voluntarily_, as the more tolerable of two alternatives, submit
+with abject acquiescence to every one of my conditions. Here is my hand;
+think of the degradation I submit to in asking you to take it. You gave
+me no chance when I asked forgiveness. I tender you a full forgiveness;
+here is my hand, beware how you despise it."
+
+Fearful as he appeared in her sight, her fear gave way before her
+kindling spirit. She had stood before him pale as death--anger now fired
+her eye and cheek.
+
+"How dare you, Sir, hold such language to me! Do you suppose, if I had
+told my brother of your cowardice and insolence as I left the abbey the
+other day, you would have dared to speak to him, much less to me? Let me
+pass, and never while you live presume to address me more."
+
+Mr. Longcluse, with a slow recoil, smiling fixedly, and bowing, drew
+back and opened the door for her to pass. He did not any longer look
+like a villain whose heart had failed him.
+
+Her heart fluttered violently with fear as she saw that he stepped out
+after her, and walked by her side toward the house. She quickened her
+pace in great alarm.
+
+"If you had liked me ever so little," said he in that faint and horrible
+tone she remembered--"one, the smallest particle, of disinterested
+liking--the grain of mustard-seed--I would have had you fast, and made
+you happy, made you _adore_ me; _such_ adoration that you could have
+heard from my own lips the confession of my crimes, and loved me
+still--loved me more desperately. Now that you hate me, and I hate
+_you_, and have you in my power, and while I hate still admire
+you--still choose you for my wife--you shall hear the same story, and
+think me all the more dreadful. You sought to degrade me, and I'll
+humble you in the dust. Suppose I tell you I'm a criminal--the kind of
+man you have read of in trials, and can't understand, and can scarcely
+even believe in--the kind of man that seems to you as unaccountable and
+monstrous as a ghost--your terrors and horror will make my triumph
+exquisite with an immense delight. I don't want to smooth the way for
+you; you do nothing for me. I disdain hypocrisy. Terror drives you on;
+fate coerces you; you can't help yourself, and my delight is to make the
+plunge terrible. I reveal myself that you may know the sort of person
+you are yoked to. Your sacrifice shall be the agony of agonies, the
+death of deaths, and yet you'll find yourself unable to resist. I'll
+make you submissive as ever patient was to a mad doctor. If it took
+years to do it, you shall never stir out of this house till it is done.
+Every spark of insolence in your nature shall be trampled out; I'll
+break you thoroughly. The sound of my step shall make your heart jump; a
+look from me shall make you dumb for an hour. You shall not be able to
+take your eyes off me while I'm in sight, or to forget me for a moment
+when I am gone. The smallest thing you do, the least word you speak, the
+very thoughts of your heart, shall all be shaped under one necessity and
+one fear." (She had reached the hall door). "Up the steps! Yes; you wish
+to enter? Certainly."
+
+With flashing eyes and head erect, the beautiful girl stepped into the
+hall, without looking to the right or to the left, or uttering one word,
+and walked quickly to the foot of the great stair.
+
+If she thought that Mr. Longcluse would respect the barrier of the
+threshold, she was mistaken. He entered but one step behind her, shut
+the heavy hall door with a crash, dropped the key into his coat pocket,
+and signing with his finger to the man in the room to the right, that
+person stood up briskly, and prepared for action. He closed the door
+again, saying simply, "I'll call."
+
+The young lady, hearing his step, turned round and stood on the stair,
+confronting him fiercely.
+
+"You must leave this house this moment," she cried, with a stamp, with
+gleaming eyes and very pale.
+
+"By-and-by," he replied, standing before her.
+
+Could this be the safe old house in which childish days had passed, in
+which all around were always friendly and familiar faces? The window
+stood reflected upon the wall beside her in dim sunset light, and the
+shadows of the flowers sharp and still that stood there.
+
+"I have friends here who will turn you out, Sir!"
+
+"You have _no_ friends here," he replied, with the same fixed smile.
+
+She hesitated; she stepped down, but stopped in the hall. She remembered
+instantly that, as she turned, she had seen him take the key from the
+hall door.
+
+"My brother will protect me."
+
+"Is he here?"
+
+"He'll call you to account to-morrow, when he comes."
+
+"Will he say so?"
+
+"Always--brave, true Richard!" she sobbed, with a strange cry in her
+words.
+
+"He'll do as I bid him: he's a forger, in my power."
+
+To her wild stare he replied with a low, faint laugh. She clasped her
+fingers over her temples.
+
+"Oh! no, no, no, no, no, no!" she screamed, and suddenly she rushed into
+the great room at her right. Her brother--was it a phantom?--stood
+before her. With one long, shrill scream, she threw herself into his
+arms, and cried, "It's a lie, darling, it's a lie!" and she had fainted.
+
+He laid her in the great chair by the fire-place. With white lips, and
+with one fist shaking wildly in the air, he said, with a dreadful shiver
+in his voice,--
+
+"You villain! you villain! you villain!"
+
+"Don't you be a fool," said Longcluse. "Ring for the maid. There must
+have been a crisis some time. I'm giving you a fair chance--trying to
+save you; they all faint--it's a trick with women."
+
+Longcluse looked into her lifeless face, with something of pity and
+horror mingling in the villany of his countenance.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER LXXVI.
+
+PHOEBE CHIFFINCH.
+
+
+Mr. Longcluse passed into the inner room, as he heard a step approaching
+from the hall. It was Louisa Diaper, in whose care, with the simple
+remedy of cold water, the young lady recovered. She was conveyed to her
+room, and Richard Arden followed, at Longcluse's command, to "keep
+things quiet."
+
+In an agony of remorse, he remained with his sister's hand in his,
+sitting by the bed on which she lay. Longcluse had spoken with the
+resolution that a few sharp and short words should accomplish the
+crisis, and show her plainly that her brother was, in the most literal
+and terrible sense, in his power, and thus, indirectly, she also.
+Perhaps, if she must know the fact, it was as well she should know it
+now.
+
+Longcluse, I suppose, had reckoned upon Richard's throwing himself upon
+his sister's mercy. He thought he had done so before, and moved her as
+he would have wished. Longcluse, no doubt, had spoken to her, expecting
+to find her in a different mood. Had she yielded, what sort of husband
+would he have made her? Not cruel, I daresay. Proud of her, he would
+have been. She should have had the best diamonds in England. Jealous,
+violent when crossed, but with all his malice and severity, easily by
+Alice to have been won, had she cared to win him, to tenderness.
+
+Was Sir Richard now seconding his scheme?
+
+Sir Richard had no plan--none for escape, none for a catastrophe, none
+for acting upon Alice's feelings.
+
+"I am so agitated--in such despair, so stunned! If I had but one clear
+hour! Oh, God! if I had but one clear hour to think in!"
+
+He was now trying to persuade Alice that Longcluse had, in his rage,
+used exaggerated language--that it was true he was in his power, but it
+was for a large sum of money, for which he was his debtor.
+
+"Yes, darling," he whispered, "only be firm. I shall get away, and take
+you with me--only be secret, and don't mind one word he says when he is
+angry--he is literally a madman; there is no limit to the violence and
+absurdity of what he says."
+
+"Is he still in the house?" she whispered.
+
+"Not he."
+
+"Are you certain?"
+
+"Perfectly; with all his rant, he dares not stay: it would be a
+police-office affair. He's gone long ago."
+
+"Thank God!" she said, with a shudder.
+
+Their agitated talk continued for some time longer. At last, darkly and
+suddenly, as usual, he took his leave.
+
+When her brother had gone, she touched the bell for Louisa Diaper. A
+stranger appeared.
+
+The stranger had a great deal of pink ribbon in her cap, she looked
+shrewd enough, and with a pair of rather good eyes; she looked curiously
+and steadily on the young lady.
+
+"Who are you?" said Alice, sitting up. "I rang for my maid, Louisa
+Diaper."
+
+"Please, my lady," she answers, with a short curtsey, "she went into
+town to fetch some things here from Sir Richard's house."
+
+"How long ago?"
+
+"Just when you was getting better, please, my lady."
+
+"When she returns send her to me. What is your name?"
+
+"Phoebe Chiffinch, please 'm."
+
+"And you are here----"
+
+"In her place, please my lady."
+
+"Well, when she comes back you can assist. We shall have a great deal to
+do, and I like your face, Phoebe, and I'm so lonely, I think I'll get you
+to sit here in the window near me."
+
+And on a sudden the young lady burst into tears, and sobbed and wept
+bitterly.
+
+The new maid was at her side, pouring all sorts of consolation into her
+ear, with odd phrases--quite intelligible, I daresay, over the bar of
+the "Guy of Warwick"--dropping h's in all directions, and bowling down
+grammatic rules like nine-pins.
+
+She was wonderfully taken by the kind looks and tones of the pretty lady
+whom she saw in this distress, and with the silk curtains drawn back in
+the fading flush of evening.
+
+Hard work, hard fare, and harder words had been her portion from her
+orphaned childhood upward, at the old "Guy of Warwick," with its dubious
+customers, failing business, and bitter and grumbling old hostess.
+Shrewd, hard, and not over-nice had Miss Phoebe grown up in that godless
+school.
+
+But she had taken a fancy, as the phrase is, to the looks of the young
+lady, and still more to her voice and words, that in her ears sounded so
+new and strange. There was not an unpleasant sense, too, of the
+superiority of rank and refinement which inspires an admiring awe in her
+kind; and so, in a voice that was rather sweet and very cheery, she
+offered, when the young lady was better, to sit by the bed and tell her
+a story, or sing her a song.
+
+Everyone knows how his view of his own case may vary within an hour.
+Alice was now of opinion that there was no reason to reject her
+brother's version of the terrifying situation. A man who could act like
+Mr. Longcluse, could, of course, say anything. She had begun to grow
+more cheerful, and in a little while she accepted the offer of her
+companion, and heard, first a story, and then a song; and, after all,
+she talked with her for some time.
+
+"Tell me, now, what servants there are in the house," asked Alice.
+
+"Only two women and myself, please, Miss."
+
+"Is there anyone else in the house, besides ourselves?"
+
+The girl looked down, and up again, in Alice's eyes, and then away to
+the floor at the other end of the room.
+
+"I was told, Ma'am, not to talk of nothing here, Miss, except my own
+business, please, my lady."
+
+"My God! This girl mayn't speak truth to me," exclaimed Alice, clasping
+her hands aghast.
+
+The girl looked up uneasily.
+
+"I should be sent away, Ma'am, if I do."
+
+"Look--listen: in this strait you must be for or against me; you can't
+be divided. For God's sake be a friend to me now. I may yet be the best
+friend you ever had. Come, Phoebe, trust me, and I'll never betray you."
+
+She took the girl's hand. Phoebe did not speak. She looked in her face
+earnestly for some moments, and then down, and up again.
+
+"I don't mind. I'll do what I can for you, Ma'am; I'll tell you what I
+know. But if you tell them, Ma'am, it will be awful bad for me, my
+lady."
+
+She looked again, very much frightened, in her face, and was silent.
+
+"No one shall ever know but I. Trust me entirely, and I'll never forget
+it to you."
+
+"Well, Ma'am, there is two men."
+
+"Who are they?"
+
+"Two men, please 'm. I knows one on 'em--he was keeper on the 'Guy o'
+Warwick,' please, my lady, when there was a hexecution in the 'ouse.
+They're both sheriff's men."
+
+"And what are they doing here?"
+
+"A hexecution, my lady."
+
+"That is, to sell the furniture and everything for a debt, isn't that
+it?" inquired the lady, bewildered.
+
+"Well, that was it below at the 'Guy o' Warwick,' Miss; but Mr. Vargers,
+he was courting me down there at the 'Guy o' Warwick,' and offered
+marriage if I would 'av 'ad him, and he tells me heverything, and he
+says that there's a paper to take you, please, my lady."
+
+"Take _me_?"
+
+"Yes, my lady; he read it to me in the room by the hall-door. Halice
+Harden, spinster, and something about the old guv'nor's will, please;
+and his horder is to take you, please, Miss, if you should offer to go
+out of the door; and there's two on 'em, and they watches turn about, so
+you can't leave the 'ouse, please, my lady; and if you try they'll only
+lock you up a prisoner in one room a-top o' the 'ouse; and, for your
+life, my lady, don't tell no one I said a word."
+
+"Oh! Phoebe. What can they mean? What's to become of me? Somehow or other
+you must get me out of this house. Help me, for God's sake! I'll throw
+myself from the window--I'll kill myself rather than remain in their
+power."
+
+"Hush! My lady, please, I may think of something yet. But don't you do
+nothing 'and hover 'ead. You must have patience. They won't be so sharp,
+maybe, in a day or two. I'll get you out if I can; and, if I can't, then
+God's will be done. And I'll make out what I can from Mr. Vargers; and
+don't you let no one think you likes me, and I'll be sly enough, you may
+count on me, my lady."
+
+Trembling all over, Alice kissed her.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER LXXVII.
+
+MORE NEWS OF PAUL DAVIES.
+
+
+Louisa Diaper did not appear that night, nor next morning. She had been
+spirited away like the rest. Sir Richard had told her that his sister
+desired that she should go into town, and stay till next day, under the
+care of the housekeeper in town, and that he would bring her a list of
+commissions which she was to do for her mistress preparatory to starting
+for Yorkshire. I daresay this young lady liked her excursion to town
+well enough. It was not till the night after that she started for the
+North.
+
+Alice Arden, for a time, lost heart altogether. It was no wonder she
+should.
+
+That her only brother should be an accomplice against her, in a plot so
+appalling, was enough to overpower her; her horror of Longcluse, the
+effectual nature of her imprisonment, and the strange and, as she
+feared, unscrupulous people by whom she had been so artfully surrounded,
+heightened her terrors to the pitch of distraction.
+
+At times she was almost wild; at others stupefied in despair; at others,
+again, soothed by the kindly intrepidity of Phoebe, she became more
+collected. Sometimes she would throw herself on her bed, and sob for an
+hour in helpless agony; and then, exhausted and overpowered, she would
+fall for a time into a deep sleep, from which she would start, for
+several minutes, without the power of collecting her thoughts, and with
+only the stifled cry, "What is it?--Where am I?" and a terrified look
+round.
+
+One day, in a calmer mood, as she sat in her room after a long talk with
+Phoebe, the girl came beside her chair with an oddly made key, with a
+little strap of white leather to the handle, in her hands.
+
+"Here's a latch-key, Miss; maybe you know what it opens?"
+
+"Where did you find it?"
+
+"In the old china vase over the chimney, please 'm."
+
+"Let me see--oh! dear, yes, this opens the door in the wall of the
+grounds, in that direction," and she pointed. "Poor papa lent it to my
+drawing-master. He lived somewhere beyond that, and used to let himself
+in by it when he came to give me my lessons."
+
+"I remember that door well, Miss," said Phoebe, looking earnestly on the
+key--"Mr. Crozier let me out that way, one day. Mr. Longcluse has put
+strangers, you know, in the gatehouse. That's shut against us. I'll tell
+you what, Miss--wait--well, I'll _think_. I'll keep this key safe,
+anyhow; and--the more the merrier," she added with a sudden alacrity,
+and lifting her finger, by way of signal, for everything now was done
+with caution here, she left the room, and passed through the suite to
+the landing, and quietly took out the door-keys, one by one, and
+returned with her spoil to Alice's room.
+
+"You thought they might lock us up?" whispered Alice.
+
+The girl nodded. "No harm to have 'em, Miss--it won't hurt us." She
+folded them tightly in a handkerchief, and thrust the parcel as far as
+her arm could reach between the mattress and the bed. "I'll rip the
+ticken a bit just now, and stitch them in," whispered the girl.
+
+"Didn't I hear another key clink as you put your hand in?" asked Alice.
+
+The girl smiled, and drew out a large key, and nodded, still smiling as
+she replaced it.
+
+"What does that open?" whispered Alice eagerly.
+
+"_Nothing_, Miss," said the girl gravely--"it's the key of the old
+back-door lock; but there's a new one there now, and this won't open
+nothing. But I have a use for it. I'll tell you all in time, Miss; and,
+please, you must keep up your heart, mind."
+
+Sir Richard Arden was not the cold villain you may suppose. He was
+resolved to make an effort of some kind for the extrication of his
+sister. He could not bear to open his dreadful situation to his Uncle
+David, nor to kill himself, nor to defy the vengeance of Longcluse. He
+would effect her escape and his own simultaneously. In the meantime he
+must acquiesce, ostensibly at least, in every step determined on by
+Longcluse.
+
+It was a bright autumnal day as Sir Richard and Mr. Longcluse took the
+rail to Southampton. Longcluse had his reasons for taking the young
+baronet with him.
+
+It was near the hour, by the time they got there, when David Arden would
+arrive from his northern point of departure. Longcluse looked
+animated--smiling; but a stupendous load lay on his heart. A single
+clumsy phrase in the letter of that detective scoundrel might be enough
+to direct the formidable suspicions of that energetic old gentleman upon
+him. The next hour might throw him altogether upon the defensive, and
+paralyse his schemes.
+
+Alice Arden, you little dream of the man and the route by which,
+possibly, deliverance is speeding to you.
+
+Near the steps of the large hotel that looks seaward, Longcluse and Sir
+Richard lounge, expecting the arrival of David Arden almost momentarily.
+Up drives a fly, piled with portmanteaus, hat-case, dressing-case, and
+all the other travelling appurtenances of a comfortable wayfarer. Beside
+the driver sits a servant. The fly draws up at the door near them.
+
+Mr. Longcluse's seasoned heart throbs once or twice oddly. Out gets
+Uncle David, looking brown and healthy after his northern excursion. On
+reaching the top of the steps, he halts, and turns round to look about
+him. Again Mr. Longcluse feels the same odd sensation.
+
+Uncle David recognises Sir Richard, and smiling greets him. He runs down
+the steps to meet him. After they have shaken hands, and, a little more
+coldly, he and Mr. Longcluse, he says,--
+
+"You are not looking yourself, Dick; you ought to have run down to the
+moors, and got up an appetite. How is Alice?"
+
+"Alice? Oh! Alice is very well, thanks."
+
+"I should like to run up to Mortlake to see her. She has been
+complaining, eh?"
+
+"No, no--better," says Sir Richard.
+
+"And you forget to tell your uncle what you told me," interposes Mr.
+Longcluse, "that Miss Arden left Mortlake for Yorkshire yesterday."
+
+"Oh!" said Uncle David, turning to Richard again.
+
+"And the servants went before--two or three days ago," said Sir Richard,
+looking down for a moment, and hastening, under that clear eye, to speak
+a little truth.
+
+"Well, I wish she had come with us," said David Arden; "but as she could
+not be persuaded, I'm glad she is making a little change of air and
+scene, in any direction. By-the-bye, Mr. Longcluse, you had a letter,
+had not you, from our friend, Paul Davies?"
+
+"Yes; he seemed to think he had found a clue--from Paris it was--and I
+wrote to tell him to spare no expense in pushing his inquiries and to
+draw upon me."
+
+"Well, I have some news to tell you. His exploring voyage will come to
+nothing; you did not hear?"
+
+"No."
+
+"Why, the poor fellow's dead. I got a letter--it reached me, forwarded
+from my house in town, yesterday, from the person who hires the
+lodgings--to say he had died of scarlatina very suddenly, and sending an
+inventory of the things he left. It is a pity, for he seemed a smart
+fellow, and sanguine about getting to the bottom of it."
+
+"An awful pity!" exclaimed Longcluse, who felt as if a mountain were
+lifted from his heart, and the entire firmament had lighted up; "an
+awful pity! Are you quite sure?"
+
+"There can't be a doubt, I'm sorry to say. Then, as Alice has taken
+wing, I'll pursue my first plan, and cross by the next mail."
+
+"For Paris?" inquired Mr. Longcluse, carelessly.
+
+"Yes, Sir, for Paris," answered Uncle David deliberately, looking at
+him; "yes, for Paris."
+
+And then followed a little chat on indifferent subjects. Then Uncle
+David mentioned that he had an appointment, and must dine with the dull
+but honest fellow who had asked him to meet him here on a matter of
+business, which would have done just as well next year, but he wished it
+now. Uncle David nodded, and waved his hand, as on entering the door he
+gave them a farewell smile over his shoulder.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER LXXVIII.
+
+THE CATACOMBS.
+
+
+At his disappearance, for Sir Richard the air darkened as when, in the
+tropics, the sun sets without a twilight, and the silence of an awful
+night descended.
+
+It seemed that safety had been so near. He had laid his hand upon it,
+and had let it glide ungrasped between his fingers; and now the sky was
+black above him, and an unfathomable sea beneath.
+
+Mr. Longcluse was in great spirits. He had grown for a time like the
+Walter Longcluse of a year before.
+
+They two dined together, and after dinner Mr. Longcluse grew happy, and
+as he sat with his glass by him, he sang, looking over the waves, a
+sweet little sentimental song, about ships that pass at sea, and smiles
+and tears, and "true, boys, true," and "heaven shows a glimpse of its
+blue." And he walks with Sir Richard to the station, and he says, low,
+as he leans and looks into the carriage window, of which young Arden was
+the only occupant--
+
+"Be true to me now, and we may make it up yet."
+
+And so saying, he gives his hand a single pressure as he looks hard in
+his eyes.
+
+The bell had rung. He was remaining there, he said, for another train.
+The clapping of the doors had ceased. He stood back. The whistle blew
+its long piercing yell, and as the train began to glide towards London,
+the young man saw the white face of Walter Longcluse in deep shadow, as
+he stood with his back to the lamp, still turned towards him.
+
+The train was now thundering on its course; the solitary lamp glimmered
+in the roof. He threw himself back, with his foot against the opposite
+seat.
+
+"Good God! what is one to resolve! All men are cruel when they are
+exasperated. Might not good yet be made of Longcluse? What creatures
+women are!--what fools! How easy all might have been made, with the
+least temper and reflection! What d----d selfishness!"
+
+                   *       *       *       *       *
+
+Uncle David was now in Paris. The moon was shining over that beautiful
+city. In a lonely street, in a quarter which fashion had long
+forsaken--over whose pavement, as yet unconscious of the Revolution, had
+passed, in the glare of torchlight, the carved and emblazoned carriages
+of an aristocracy, as shadowy now as the courts of the Cæsars--his
+footsteps are echoing.
+
+A huge house presents its front. He stops and examines it carefully for
+a few seconds. It is the house of which he is in search.
+
+At one time the Baron Vanboeren had received patients from the country,
+to reside in this house. For the last year, during which he had been
+gathering together his wealth, and detaching himself from business, he
+had discontinued this, and had gradually got rid of his establishment.
+
+When David Arden rang the bell at the hall-door, which he had to do
+repeatedly, it was answered at last by an old woman, high-shouldered,
+skin and bone, with a great nose, and big jaw-bones, and a high-cauled
+cap. This lean creature looks at him with a vexed and hollow eye. Her
+bony arm rests on the lock of the hall-door, and she blocks the narrow
+aperture between its edge and the massive door-case. She inquires in
+very nasal French what Monsieur desires.
+
+"I wish to see Monsieur the Baron, if he will permit me an interview,"
+answered Mr. Arden in very fair French.
+
+"Monsieur the Baron is not visible; but if Monsieur will,
+notwithstanding, leave any message he pleases for Monsieur the Baron, I
+will take care he receives it punctually."
+
+"But Monsieur the Baron appointed me to call to-night at ten o'clock."
+
+"Is Monsieur sure of that?"
+
+"Perfectly."
+
+"Eh, very well; but, if he pleases, I must first learn Monsieur's name."
+
+"My name is Arden."
+
+"I believe Monsieur is right." She took a bit of notepaper from her
+capacious pocket, and peering at it, spelled aloud, "D-a-v-i-d----"
+
+"A-r-d-e-n," interrupted and continued the visitor, spelling his name,
+with a smile.
+
+"A-r-d-e-n," she followed, reading slowly from her paper; "yes, Monsieur
+is right. You see, this paper says, 'Admit Monsieur David Arden to an
+interview.' Enter, if you please Monsieur, and follow me."
+
+It was a decayed house of superb proportions, but of a fashion long
+passed away. The gaunt old woman, with a bunch of large keys clinking at
+her side, stalked up the broad stairs and into a gallery, and through
+several rooms opening _en suite_. The rooms were hung with cobwebs,
+dusty, empty, and the shutters closed, except here and there where the
+moonlight gleamed through chinks and seams.
+
+David Arden, before he had seen the Baron Vanboeren in London, had
+pictured him in imagination a tall old man with classic features, and
+manners courteous and somewhat stately.
+
+We do not fabricate such images; they rise like exhalations from a few
+scattered data, and present themselves spontaneously. It is this
+self-creation that invests them with so much reality in our
+imaginations, and subjects us to so odd a surprise when the original
+turns out quite unlike the portrait with which we have been amusing
+ourselves.
+
+She now pushed open a door, and said, "Monsieur the Baron here is
+arrived Monsieur David d'Ardennes."
+
+The room in which he now stood was spacious, but very nearly dark. The
+shutters were closed outside, and the moonlight that entered came
+through the circular hole cut in each. A large candle on a bracket
+burned at the further end of the room. There the baron stood. A
+reflector which interposed between the candle and the door at which
+David Arden entered directed its light strongly upon something which the
+baron held, and laid upon the table, in his hand; and now that he turned
+toward his visitor, it was concentrated upon his large face, revealing,
+with the force of a Rembrandt, all its furrows and finer wrinkles. He
+stood out against a background of darkness with remarkable force.
+
+The baron stood before him--a short man in a red waistcoat. He looked
+more broad-shouldered and short-necked than ever in his shirt-sleeves.
+He had an instrument in his hand resembling a small bit and brace, and
+some chips and sawdust on his flannel waistcoat, which he brushed off
+with two or three sweeps of his short fat fingers. He looked now like a
+grim old mechanic. There was no vivacity in his putty-coloured features,
+but there were promptitude and decision in every abrupt gesture. It was
+his towering, bald forehead, and something of command and savage energy
+in his lowering face, that redeemed the _tout ensemble_ from an almost
+brutal vulgarity.
+
+The baron was not in the slightest degree "put out," as the phrase is,
+at being detected in his present occupation and _deshabille_.
+
+He bowed twice to David Arden, and said, in English, with a little
+foreign accent--
+
+"Here is a chair, Monsieur Arden; but you can hardly see it until your
+eyes have grown a little accustomed to our _crépuscula_."
+
+This was true enough, for David Arden, though he saw him advance a step
+or two, could not have known what he held in the hand that was in
+shadow. The sound, indeed, of the legs of the chair, as he set it down
+upon the floor, he heard.
+
+"I should make you an apology, Mr. Arden, if I were any longer in my own
+home, which I am not, although this is still my house; for I have
+dismissed my servants, sold my furniture, and sent what things I cared
+to retain over the frontier to my new habitation, whither I shall soon
+follow; and this house too, I shall sell. I have already two or three
+gudgeons nibbling, Monsieur."
+
+"This house must have been the hotel of some distinguished family,
+Baron; it is nobly proportioned," said David Arden.
+
+As his eye became accustomed to the gloom, David Arden saw traces of
+gilding on the walls. The shattered frames on which the tapestry was
+stretched in old times remained in the panels, with crops of small,
+rusty nails visible. The faint candle-light glimmered on a ponderous
+gilded cornice, which had also sustained violence. The floor was bare,
+with a great deal of litter, and some scanty furniture. There was a
+lathe near the spot where David Arden stood, and shavings and splinters
+under his feet. There was a great block with a vice attached. In a
+portion of the fire-place was built a furnace. There were pincers and
+other instruments lying about the room, which had more the appearance of
+an untidy workshop than of a study, and seemed a suitable enough abode
+for the uncouth figure that confronted him.
+
+"Ha! Monsieur," growls the baron, "stone walls have ears, you say if
+only they had tongues; what tales _these_ could tell! This house was one
+of Madame du Barry's, and was sacked in the great Revolution. The
+mirrors were let into the plaster in the walls. In some of the rooms
+there are large fragments still stuck in the wall so fast, you would
+need a hammer and chisel to dislodge and break them up. This room was an
+ante-room, and admitted to the lady's bed-room by two doors, this and
+that. The panels of that other, by which you entered from the stair,
+were of mirror. They were quite smashed. The furniture, I suppose, flew
+out of the window; everything was broken up in small bits, and torn to
+rags, or carried off to the broker after the first fury, and
+_sansculotte_ families came in and took possession of the wrecked
+apartments. You will say then, what was left? The bricks, the stones,
+hardly the plaster on the walls. Yet, Monsieur Arden, I have discovered
+some of the best treasures the house contained, and they are at present
+in this room. Are you a collector, Monsieur Arden?"
+
+Uncle David disclaimed the honourable imputation. He was thinking of
+cutting all this short, and bringing the baron to the point. The old man
+was at the period when the egotism of age asserts itself, and was
+garrulous, and being, perhaps, despotic and fierce (he looked both), he
+might easily take fire and become impracticable. Therefore, on second
+thoughts, he was cautious.
+
+"You can now see more plainly," said the baron. "Will you approach?
+Concealed by a double covering of strong paper pasted over it, and
+painted and gilded, each of these two doors on its six panels contains
+six distinct master-pieces of Watteau's. I have known that for ten
+years, and have postponed removing them. Twelve Watteaus, as fine as any
+in the world! I would not trust their removal to any other hand, and so,
+the panel comes out without a shake. Come here, Monsieur, if you please.
+This candle affords a light sufficient to see, at least, some of the
+beauties of these incomparable works."
+
+"Thanks, Baron, a glance will suffice, for I am nothing of an artist."
+
+He approached. It was true that his sight had grown accustomed to the
+obscurity, for he could now see the baron's features much more
+distinctly. His large waxen face was shorn smooth, except on the upper
+lip, where a short moustache still bristled; short black eyebrows
+contrasted also with the bald massive forehead, and round the eyes was a
+complication of mean and cunning wrinkles. Some peculiar lines between
+these contracted brows gave a character of ferocity to this forbidding
+and sensual face.
+
+"Now! See there! Those four pictures--I would not sell those four
+Watteaus for one hundred thousand francs. And the other door is worth
+the same. Ha!"
+
+"You are lucky, Baron."
+
+"I think so. I do not wish to part with them: I don't think of selling
+them. See the folds of that brocade! See the ease and grace of the lady
+in the sacque, who sits on the bank there, under the myrtles, with the
+guitar on her lap! and see the animation and elegance of that dancing
+boy with the tambourine! This is a _chef-d'oeuvre_. I ought not to part
+with that, on any terms--no, never! You no doubt know many collectors,
+wealthy men, in England. Look at that shot silk, green and purple; and
+whom do you take that to be a portrait of, that lady with the
+castanets?"
+
+He was pointing out each object, on which he descanted, with his stumpy
+finger, his hands being, I am bound to admit, by no means clean.
+
+"If you do happen to know such people, nevertheless, I should not object
+to your telling them where this treasure may be seen, I've no objection.
+I should not like to part with them, that is true. No, no, _no_; but
+every man may be tempted, it is possible--possible, just possible."
+
+"I shall certainly mention them to some friends."
+
+"Wealthy men, of course," said the baron.
+
+"It is an expensive taste, Baron, and none but wealthy people can
+indulge it."
+
+"True, and these would be _very_ expensive. They are unique; that lady
+there is the _Du Barry_--a portrait worth, alone, six thousand francs.
+Ha! he! Yes, when I take zese out and place zem, as I mean before I go,
+to be seen, they will bring all Europe together. _Mit speck fangt man
+mause_--with bacon one catches mice!"
+
+"No doubt they will excite attention, Baron. But I feel I am wasting
+your time and abusing your courtesy in permitting my visit, the
+immediate object of which was to earnestly beg from you some information
+which, I think, no one else can give me."
+
+"Information? Oh! ah! Pray resume your chair, Sir. Information? yes, it
+is quite possible I may have information such as you need, Heaven knows!
+But knowledge, they say, is power, and if I do you a service I expect as
+much from you. _Eine hand wascht die and're_--one hand, Monsieur, washes
+ze ozer. No man parts wis zat which is valuable, to strangers, wisout a
+proper honorarium. I receive no more patients here; but you understand,
+I may be induced to attend a patient: I may be _tempted_, you
+understand."
+
+"But this is not a case of attending a patient, Baron," said David
+Arden, a little haughtily.
+
+"And what ze devil _is_ it, then?" said the baron, turning on him
+suddenly. "Monsieur will pardon me, but we professional men must turn
+our time and knowledge to account, do you see? And we don't give eizer
+wizout being paid, and _well_ paid for them, eh?"
+
+"Of course. I meant nothing else," said David Arden.
+
+"Then, Sir, we understand one another so far, and that saves time. Now,
+what information can the Baron Vanboeren give to Monsieur David Arden?"
+
+"I think you would prefer my putting my questions quite straight."
+
+"Straight as a sword-thrust, Sir."
+
+"Then, Baron, I want to know whether you were acquainted with two
+persons, Yelland Mace and Walter Longcluse."
+
+"Yes, I knew zem bos, slightly and yet intimately--intimately and yet
+but slightly. You wish, perhaps, to learn particulars about those
+gentlemen?"
+
+"I do."
+
+"Go on: interrogate."
+
+"Do you perfectly recollect the features of these persons?"
+
+"I ought."
+
+"Can you give me an accurate description of Yelland Mace?"
+
+"I can bring you face to face with both."
+
+"By Jove! Sir, are you serious?"
+
+"Mr. Longcluse is in London."
+
+"But you talk of bringing me face to face with them; how soon?"
+
+"In five minutes."
+
+"Oh, you mean a photograph, or a picture?"
+
+"No, in the solid. Here is the key of the catacombs." And he took a key
+that hung from a nail on the wall.
+
+"Bah, ha, yah!" exploded the baron, in a ferocious sneer, rather than a
+laugh, and shrugging his great shoulders to his ears, he shook them in
+barbarous glee, crying--"What clever fellow you are, Monsieur Arden! you
+see so well srough ze millstone! _Ich bin klug und weise_--you sing zat
+song. I am intelligent and wise, eh, he! gra-a, ha, ha!"
+
+He seized the candlestick in one hand, and shaking the key in the other
+by the side of his huge forehead, he nodded once or twice to David
+Arden.
+
+"Not much life where we are going; but you shall see zem bose."
+
+"You speak riddles, Baron; but by all means bring me, as you say, face
+to face with them."
+
+"Very good, Monsieur; you'll follow me," said the baron. And he opened a
+door that admitted to the gallery, and, with the candle and the keys, he
+led the way, by this corridor, to an iron door that had a singular
+appearance, being sunk two feet back in a deep wooden frame, that threw
+it into shadow. This he unlocked, and with an exertion of his weight and
+strength, swung slowly open.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER LXXIX.
+
+RESURRECTIONS.
+
+
+David Arden entered this door, and found himself under a vaulted roof of
+brick. These were the chambers, for there was at least two, which the
+baron termed his catacombs. Along both walls of the narrow apartment
+were iron doors, in deep recesses, that looked like the huge ovens of an
+ogre, sunk deep in the wall, and the baron looked himself not an
+unworthy proprietor. The baron had the General's faculty of remembering
+faces and names.
+
+"Monsieur Yelland Mace? Yes, I will show you him; he is among ze dead."
+
+"Dead?"
+
+"Ay, zis right side is _dead_--all zese."
+
+"Do you mean," says David Arden, "_literally_ that Yelland Mace is no
+longer living?"
+
+"A, B, C, D, E, F, G," mutters the baron, slowly pointing his finger
+along the right wall.
+
+"I beg your pardon, Baron, but I don't think you heard me," said David
+Arden.
+
+"_Perfectly_, excuse me: H, I, J, K, L, M--M. I will show you _now_, if
+you desire it, Yelland Mace; you shall see him now, and never behold him
+more. Do you wish very much?"
+
+"Intensely--_most_ intensely!" said Uncle David earnestly.
+
+The baron turned full upon him, and leaned his shoulders against the
+iron door of the recess. He had taken from his pocket a bunch of heavy
+keys, which he dangled from his clenched fingers, and they made a faint
+jingle in the silence that followed, for a few seconds.
+
+"Permit me to ask," said the baron, "are your inquiries directed to a
+legal object?"
+
+"I have no difficulty in saying yes," answered he; "a legal object,
+strictly."
+
+"A legal object, by which you gain considerably?" he asked slowly.
+
+"By which I gain the satisfaction of seeing justice done upon a
+villain."
+
+"That is fine, Monsieur. Eternal justice! I have thought and said that
+very often: _Vive la justice eternelle!_ especially when her sword
+shears off the head of my enemy, and her scale is laden with napoleons
+for my purse."
+
+"Monsieur le Baron mistakes, in my case; I have absolutely nothing to
+gain by the procedure I propose; it is strictly criminal," said David
+Arden drily.
+
+"Not an estate? not a slice of an estate? Come, come! _Thorheit!_ That
+is foolish talk."
+
+"I have told you already, nothing," repeated David Arden.
+
+"Then you don't care, in truth, a single napoleon, whether you win or
+lose. We have been wasting our time, Sir. I have no time to bestow for
+nothing; my minutes count by the crown, while I remain in Paris. I shall
+soon depart, and practise no more; and my time will become my own--still
+my own, by no means _yours_. I am candid, Sir, and I think you cannot
+misunderstand me; I must be paid for my time and opportunities."
+
+"I never meant anything else," said Mr. Arden sturdily; "I shall pay you
+liberally for any service you render me."
+
+"That, Sir, is equally frank; we understand now the principle on which I
+assist you. You wish to see Yelland Mace, so you shall."
+
+He turned about, and struck the key sharply on the iron door.
+
+"There he waits," said the baron, "and--did you ever see him?"
+
+"No."
+
+"Bah! what a wise man. Then I may show you whom I please, and you know
+nothing. Have you heard him described?"
+
+"Accurately."
+
+"Well, there is some little sense in it, after all. You shall see."
+
+He unlocked the safe, opened the door, and displayed shelves, laden with
+rudely-made deal boxes, each of a little more than a foot square. On
+these were marks and characters in red, some, and some in black, and
+others in blue.
+
+"Hé! you see," said the baron, pointing with his key, "my mummies are
+cased in hieroglyphics. Come! _Here_ is the number, the date, and the
+man."
+
+And lifting them carefully one off the other, he took out a deal box
+that had stood in the lowest stratum. The cover was loose, except for a
+string tied about it. He laid it upon the floor, and took out a plaster
+mask, and brushing and blowing off the saw-dust, held it up.
+
+David Arden saw a face with large eyes closed, a very high and thin
+nose, a good forehead, a delicately chiselled mouth; the upper lip,
+though well formed after the Greek model, projected a little, and gave
+to the chin the effect of receding in proportion. This slight defect
+showed itself in profile; but the face, looked at full front, was on the
+whole handsome, and in some degree even interesting.
+
+"You are quite sure of the identity of this?" asked Uncle David
+earnestly.
+
+There was a square bit of parchment, with two or three short lines, in a
+character which he did not know, glued to the concave reverse of the
+mask. The baron took it, and holding the light near, read, "Yelland
+Mace, suspect for his politics, May 2nd, 1844."
+
+"Yes," said Mr. Arden, having renewed his examination, "it very exactly
+tallies with the description; the nose aquiline, but very delicately
+formed. Is that writing in cypher?"
+
+"Yes, in cypher."
+
+"And in what language?"
+
+"German."
+
+David Arden looked at it.
+
+"You will make nothing of it. In these inscriptions, I have employed
+eight languages--five European, and three Asiatic--I am, you see,
+something of a linguist--and four distinct cyphers; so having that
+skill, I gave the benefit of it to my _friends_; this being secret."
+
+"Secret?--oh!" said Uncle David.
+
+"Yes, secret; and you will please to say nothing of it to any living
+creature until the twenty-first of October next, when I retire. You
+understand commerce, Mr. Arden. My practice is confidential, and I
+should lose perhaps eighty thousand francs in the short space that
+intervenes, if I were thought to have played a patient such a trick. It
+is but twenty days of reserve, and then I go and laugh at them, every
+one. Piff, puff, paff! ha! ha!"
+
+"Yes, I promise that also," said Uncle David dryly, and to himself he
+thought, "What a consummate old scoundrel!"
+
+"Very good, Sir; we shall want this of Yelland Mace again, just now; his
+face and coffin, ha! ha! can rest there for the present." He had
+replaced the mask in its box, and that lay on the floor. The door of the
+iron press he shut and locked. "Next, I will show you Mr. Longcluse:
+those are dead."
+
+He waved his short hand toward the row of iron doors which he had just
+visited.
+
+"Please, Sir, walk with me into this room. Ay, so. Here are the
+_resurrections_. Will you be good enough--L, Longcluse, M, one, two,
+three, four; _three_, yes, to hold this candlestick for a moment?"
+
+The baron unlocked this door, and, after some rummaging, he took forth a
+box similar to that he had taken out before.
+
+"Yes, right, Walter Longcluse. I tell you how you will see it best:
+there is brilliant moonlight, stand there."
+
+Through a circular hole in the wall there streamed a beam of moonlight,
+that fell upon the plaster-wall opposite with the distinctness of the
+circle of a magic-lantern.
+
+"You see it--you know it! Ha! ha! His pretty face!"
+
+He held the mask up in the moonlight, and the lineaments, sinister
+enough, of Mr. Longcluse stood, sharply defined in every line and
+feature, in intense white and black, against the vacant shadow behind.
+There was the flat nose, the projecting underjaw, the oblique, sarcastic
+eyebrow, even the line of the slight but long scar, than ran nearly from
+his eye to his nostril. The same, but younger.
+
+"There is no doubt about _that_. But when was it taken? Will you read
+what is written upon it?"
+
+Uncle David had taken out the candle, and he held it beside the mask.
+The baron turned it round, and read, "Walter Longcluse, 15th October,
+1844."
+
+"The same year in which Mace's was taken?"
+
+"So it is, 1844."
+
+"But there is a great deal more than you have read, written upon the
+parchment in this one."
+
+"It looks more."
+
+"And _is_ more. Why, count the words, one, two, four, six, eight. There
+must be thirty, or upwards."
+
+"Well, suppose there are, Sir: I have read, nevertheless, all I mean to
+read for the present. Suppose we bring these three masks together. We
+can talk a little then, and I will perhaps tell you more, and disclose
+to you some secrets of nature and art, of which perhaps you suspect
+nothing. Come, come, Monsieur! kindly take the candle."
+
+The baron shut the iron door with a clang, and locked it, and, taking up
+the box, marched into the next room, and placing the boxes one on top of
+the other, carried them in silence out upon the gallery, accompanied by
+David Arden.
+
+How desolate seemed the silence of the vast house, in all which, by this
+time, perhaps, there did not burn another light!
+
+They now re-entered the large and strangely-littered chamber in which he
+had talked with the baron; they stop among the chips and sawdust with
+which his work has strewn the floor.
+
+"Set the candle on this table," says he. "I'll light another for a time.
+See all the trouble and time you cost me!"
+
+He placed the two boxes on the table.
+
+"I am extremely sorry----"
+
+"Not on my account, you needn't. You'll pay me well for it."
+
+"So I will, Baron."
+
+"Sit you down on that, Monsieur."
+
+He placed a clumsy old chair, with a balloon-back, for his visitor, and,
+seating himself upon another, he struck his hand on the table, and said,
+arresting for a moment the restless movement of his eyes, and fixing on
+him a savage stare--
+
+"You shall see wonders and hear marvels, if only you are willing to pay
+what they are worth." The baron laughed when he had said this.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER LXXX.
+
+ANOTHER.
+
+
+"You shall sit here, Mr. Arden," said the baron, placing a chair for
+him. "You shall be comfortable. I grow in confidence with you. I feel
+inwardly an intuition when I speak wis a man of honour; my demon, as it
+were, whispers 'Trust him, honour him, make much of him.' Will you take
+a pipe, or a mug of beer?"
+
+This abrupt invitation Mr. Arden civilly declined.
+
+"Well, I shall have my pipe and beer. See, there is ze barrel--not far
+to go." He raised the candle, and David Arden saw for the first time the
+outline of a veritable beer-barrel in the corner, on tressels, such as
+might have regaled a party of boors in the clear shadow of a Teniers.
+
+"There is the comely beer-cask, not often seen in Paris, in the corner
+of our boudoir, resting against the only remaining rags of the sky-blue
+and gold silk--it is rotten now--with which the room was hung, and a
+gilded cornice--it is black now--over its head; and now, instead of
+beautiful women and graceful youths, in gold lace and cut velvets and
+perfumed powder, there are but one rheumatic and crooked old woman, and
+one old Prussian doctor, in his shirt-sleeves, ha! ha! _mutat terra
+vices!_ Come, we shall look at these again, and you shall hear more."
+
+He placed the two masks upon the chimney-piece, leaning against the
+wall.
+
+"And we will illuminate them," says he; and he takes, one after the
+other, half a dozen pieces of wax candle, and dripping the melting wax
+on the chimney-piece, he sticks each candle in turn in a little pool of
+its own wax.
+
+"I spare nothing, you see, to make all plain. Those two faces present a
+marked contrast. Do you, Mr. Arden, know anything, ever so little, of
+the fate of Yelland Mace?"
+
+"Nothing. Is he living?"
+
+"Suppose he is dead, what then?"
+
+"In that case, of course, I take my leave of the inquiry, and of you,
+asking you simply one question, whether there was any correspondence
+between Yelland Mace and Walter Longcluse?"
+
+"A very intimate correspondence," said the baron.
+
+"Of what nature?"
+
+"Ha! They have been combined in business, in pleasures, in crimes," said
+the baron. "Look at them. Can you believe it? So dissimilar! They are
+opposites in form and character, as if fashioned in expression and in
+feature each to contradict the other; yet so united!"
+
+"And in crime, you say?"
+
+"Ay, in crime--in all things."
+
+"Is Yelland Mace still living?" urged David Arden.
+
+"Those features, in life, you will never behold, Sir."
+
+"He is dead. You said that you took that mask from among the dead. _Is_
+he dead?"
+
+"No, Sir; not actually dead, but under a strange condition. Bah; Don't
+you see I have a secret? Do you prize very highly learning where he is?"
+
+"Very highly, provided he may be secured and brought to trial; and you,
+Baron, must arrange to give your testimony to prove his identity."
+
+"Yes; that would be indispensible," said the baron, whose eyes were
+sweeping the room from corner to corner, fiercely and swiftly. "Without
+me you can never lift the veil; without me you can never unearth your
+stiff and pale Yelland Mace, nor without me identify and hang him."
+
+"I rely upon your aid, Baron," said Mr. Arden, who was becoming
+agitated. "Your trouble shall be recompensed; you may depend upon my
+honour."
+
+"I am running a certain risk. I am not a fool, though, like little
+Lebas. I am not to be made away with like a kitten; and once I move in
+this matter, I burn my ships behind me, and return to my splendid
+practice, under no circumstances, ever again."
+
+The baron's pallid face looked more bloodless, his accent was fiercer,
+and his countenance more ruffianly as he uttered all this.
+
+"I understood, Baron, that you had quite made up your mind to retire
+within a very few weeks," said David Arden.
+
+"Does any man who has lived as long as you or I quite trust his own
+resolution? No one likes to be nailed to a plan of action an hour before
+he need be. I find my practice more lucrative every day. I may be
+tempted to postpone my retirement, and for a while longer to continue to
+gather the golden harvest that ripens round me. But once I take this
+step, all is up with that. You see--you understand. Bah! you are no
+fool; it is plain, all I sacrifice."
+
+"Of course, Baron, you shall take no trouble, and make no sacrifice,
+without ample compensation. But are you aware of the nature of the crime
+committed by that man?"
+
+"I never trouble my head about details; it is enough, the man is a
+political refugee, and his object concealment."
+
+"But he was no political refugee; he had nothing to do with politics--he
+was simply a murderer and a robber."
+
+"What a little rogue! Will you excuse my smoking a pipe and drinking a
+little beer? Now, he never hinted that, although I knew him very
+intimately, for he was my patient for some months; never hinted it, he
+was so sly."
+
+"And Mr. Longcluse, was _he_ your patient also?"
+
+"Ha! to be sure he was. You won't drink some beer? No; well, in a
+moment."
+
+He drew a little jugful from the cask, and placed it, and a pewter
+goblet, on the table, and then filled, lighted, and smoked his pipe as
+he proceeded.
+
+"I will tell you something concerning those gentlemen, Mr. Longcluse and
+Mr. Mace, which may amuse you. Listen."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER LXXXI.
+
+BROKEN.
+
+
+"My hands were very full," said the baron, displaying his stumpy
+fingers. "I received patients in this house; I had what you call many
+irons in ze fire. I was making napoleons then, I don't mind telling you,
+as fast as a man could run bullets. My minutes counted by the crown. It
+was in the month of May, 1844, late at night, a man called here, wanting
+to consult me. He called himself Herr von Konigsmark. I went down and
+saw him in my audience room. He knew I was to be depended upon. Such
+people tell one another who may be trusted. He told me he was an
+Austrian proscribed: very good. He proposed to place himself in my
+hands: very well. I looked him in the face--you have _there_ exactly
+what I saw."
+
+He extended his hand toward the mask of Yelland Mace.
+
+"'You are an Austrian,' I said, 'a native subject of the empire?'
+
+"'Yes.'
+
+"'Italian?'
+
+"'No.'
+
+"'Hungarian?'
+
+"'No.'
+
+"'Well, you are not _German_--ha, ha!--I can swear to that.'
+
+"He was speaking to me in German.
+
+"'Your accent is foreign. Come, confidence. You must be no impostor. I
+must make no mistake, and blunder into a national type of features, all
+wrong; if I make your mask, it must do us credit. I know many
+gentlemen's secrets, and as many ladies' secrets. A man of honour! What
+are you afraid of?'"
+
+"You were not a statuary?" said Uncle David, astonished at his
+versatility.
+
+"Oh, yes! A statuary, but only in grotesque, you understand. I will show
+you some of my work by-and-by."
+
+"And I shall perhaps understand."
+
+"You _shall_, _perfectly_. With some reluctance, then, he admitted that
+what I positively asserted was true; for I told him I knew from his
+accent he was an Englishman. Then, with some little pressure, I invited
+him to tell his name. He did--it was Yelland Mace. _That_ is Yelland
+Mace."
+
+He had now finished his pipe: he went over to the chimney-piece, and
+having knocked out the ashes, and with his pipe pointing to the tip of
+the long thin plaster nose, he said, "Look well at him. Look till you
+know all his features by rote. Look till you fix them for the rest of
+your days well in memory, and then say what in the devil's name you
+could make of them. Look at that high nose, as thin as a fish-knife.
+Look at the line of the mouth and chin; see the mild gentlemanlike
+contour. If you find a fellow with a flat nose, and a pair of upper
+tusks sticking out an inch, and a squint that turns out one eye like the
+white of an egg, you pull out the tusks, you raise the skin of the nose,
+slice a bit out of the cheek, and make a false bridge, as high as you
+please; heal the cheek with a stitch or two, and operate with the lancet
+for the squint, and your bust is complete. Bravo! you understand?"
+
+"I confess, Baron, I do not."
+
+"You shall, however. Here is the case--a political refugee, like
+Monsieur Yelland Mace----"
+
+"But he was no such thing."
+
+"Well, a criminal--any man in such a situation is, for me, a political
+refugee zat, for reasons, desires to revisit his country, and yet must
+be so thoroughly disguised zat by no surprise, and by no process, can he
+be satisfactorily recognised; he comes to me, tells me his case, and
+says, 'I desire, Baron, to become your patient,' and so he places
+himself in my hands, and so--ha, ha! You begin to perceive?"
+
+"Yes, I do! I think I understand you clearly. But, Lord bless me! what a
+nefarious trade!" exclaimed Uncle David.
+
+The baron was not offended; he laughed.
+
+"Nevertheless," said he, "There's no harm in that. Not that I care much
+about the question of right or wrong in the matter; but there's none.
+Bah! who's the worse of his going back? or, if he did not, who's the
+better?"
+
+Uncle David did not care to discuss this point in ethics, but simply
+said,--
+
+"And Mr. Longcluse was also a patient of yours?"
+
+"Yes, certainly," said the baron.
+
+"We Londoners know nothing of his history," said Mr. Arden.
+
+"A political refugee, like Mr. Mace," said the baron. "Now, look at Herr
+Yelland Mace. It was a severe operation, but a beautiful one! I opened
+the skin with a single straight cut from the lachrymal gland to the
+nostril, and one underneath meeting it, you see" (he was tracing the
+line of the scalpel with the stem of his pipe), "along the base of the
+nose from the point. Then I drew back the skin over the bridge, and then
+I operated on the bone and cartilage, cutting them and the muscle at the
+extremity down to a level with the line of the face, and drew the flap
+of skin back, cutting it to meet the line of the skin of the cheek;
+_there_, you see, so much for the nose. Now see the curved eyebrow.
+Instead of that very well marked arch, I resolved it should slant from
+the radix of the nose in a straight line obliquely upward; to effect
+which I removed at the upper edge of each eyebrow, at the corner next
+the temple, a portion of the skin and muscle, which, being reunited and
+healed, produced the requisite contraction, and thus drew that end of
+each brow upward. And now, having disposed of the nose and brows, I come
+to the mouth. Look at the profile of this mask."
+
+He was holding that of Yelland Mace toward Mr. Arden, and with the bowl
+of the pipe in his right hand, pointed out the lines and features on
+which he descanted, with the amber point of the stem.
+
+"Now, if you observe, the chin in this face, by reason of the marked
+prominence of the nose, has the effect of receding, but it does not. If
+you continue the perpendicular line of ze forehead, ze chin, you see,
+meets it. The upper lip, though short and well-formed, projects a good
+deal. Ze under lip rather retires, and this adds to the receding effect
+of the chin, you see. My _coup-d'oeil_ assured me that it was practicable
+to give to this feature the character of a projecting under-jaw. The
+complete depression of the nose more than half accomplished it. The rest
+is done by cutting away two upper and four under-teeth, and substituting
+false ones at the desired angle. By that application of dentistry I
+obtained zis new line." (He indicated the altered outline of the
+features, as before, with his pipe). "It was a very pretty operation.
+The effect you could hardly believe. He was two months recovering,
+confined to his bed, ha! ha! We can't have an immovable mask of living
+flesh, blood, and bone for nothing. He was threatened with erysipelas,
+and there was a rather critical inflammation of the left eye. When he
+could sit up, and bear the light, and looked in the glass, instead of
+thanking me, he screamed like a girl, and cried and cursed for an hour,
+ha, ha, ha! He was glad of it afterward: it was so complete. Look at it"
+(he held up the mask of Yelland Mace): "a face, on the whole,
+good-looking, but a little of a parrot-face, you know. I took him into
+my hands with that face, and" (taking up the mask of Mr. Longcluse, and
+turning it with a slow oscillation so as to present it in every aspect),
+he added, "these are the features of Yelland Mace as I sent him into the
+world with the name of Herr Longcluse!"
+
+"You mean to say that Yelland Mace and Walter Longcluse are the same
+person?" cried David Arden, starting to his feet.
+
+"I swear that here is Yelland Mace _before_, and here _after_ the
+operation, call him what you please. When I was in London, two months
+ago, I saw Monsieur Longcluse. _He_ is Yelland Mace; and these two masks
+are both masks of the same Yelland Mace."
+
+"Then the evidence is complete," said David Arden, with awe in his face,
+as he stood for a moment gazing on the masks which the Baron Vanboeren
+held up side by side before him.
+
+"Ay, the masks and the witness to explain them," said the baron,
+sturdily.
+
+"It is a perfect identification," murmured Mr. Arden, with his eyes
+still riveted on the plaster faces. "Good God! how wonderful that proof,
+so complete in all its parts, should remain!"
+
+"Well, I don't love Longcluse, since so he is named; he disobliged me
+when I was in London," said the baron. "Let him hang, since so you
+ordain it. I'm ready to go to London, give my evidence, and produce
+these plaster casts. But my time and trouble must be considered."
+
+"Certainly."
+
+"Yes," said the baron; "and to avoid tedious arithmetic, and for the
+sake of convenience, I will agree to visit London, at what time you
+appoint, to bring with me these two masks, and to give my evidence
+against Yelland Mace, otherwise Walter Longcluse, my stay in London not
+to exceed a fortnight, for ten thousand pounds sterling."
+
+"I don't think, Baron, you can be serious," said Mr. Arden, as soon as
+he had recovered breath.
+
+"Donner-wetter! I will show you that I am!" bawled the baron. "Now or
+never, Sir. Do as you please. I sha'n't abate a franc. Do you like my
+offer?"
+
+On the event of this bargain are depending issues of which David Arden
+knows nothing; the dangers, the agonies, the salvation of those who are
+nearest to him on earth. The villain Longcluse, and the whole fabric of
+his machinations, may be dashed in pieces by a word.
+
+How, then, did David Arden, who hated a swindle, answer the old
+extortioner, who asked him, "Do you like my offer?"
+
+"Certainly not, Sir," said David Arden, sternly.
+
+"Then _was_ scheert's mich! What do I care! No more, no more about it!"
+yelled the baron in a fury, and dashed the two masks to pieces on the
+hearth-stone at his feet, and stamped the fragments into dust with his
+clumsy shoes.
+
+With a cry, old Uncle David rushed forward to arrest the demolition, but
+too late. The baron, who was liable to such accesses of rage, was
+grinding his teeth, and rolling his eyes, and stamping in fury.
+
+The masks, those priceless records, were gone, past all hope of
+restoration. Uncle David felt for a moment so transported with anger,
+that I think he was on the point of striking him. How it would have
+fared with him, if he had, I can't tell.
+
+"Now!" howled the baron, "ten times ten thousand pounds would not place
+you where you were, Sir. You fancied, perhaps, I would stand haggling
+with you all night, and yield at last to your obstinacy. What is my
+answer? The floor strewn with the fragments of your calculation. Where
+will you turn--what will you do now?"
+
+"Suppose I do this," said Uncle David fiercely--"report to the police
+what I have seen--your masks and all the rest, and accomplish, besides,
+all I require, by my own evidence as to what I myself saw?"
+
+"And I will confront you, as a witness," said the baron, with a cold
+sneer, "and deny it all--swear it is a dream, and aid your poor
+relatives in proving you unfit to manage your own money matters."
+
+Uncle David paused for a moment. The baron had no idea how near he was,
+at that moment, to a trial of strength with his English visitor. Uncle
+David thinks better of it, and he contents himself with saying, "I shall
+have advice, and you shall _most certainly_ hear from me again."
+
+Forth from the room strides David Arden in high wrath. Fearing to lose
+his way, he bawls over the banister, and through the corridors, "Is any
+one there?" and after a time the old woman, who is awaiting him in the
+hall, replies, and he is once more in the open street.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER LXXXII.
+
+DOPPELGANGER.
+
+
+It was late, he did not know or care how late. He was by no means
+familiar with this quarter of the city. He was agitated and angry, and
+did not wish to return to his hotel till he had a little walked off his
+excitement. Slowly he sauntered along, from street to street. These were
+old-fashioned, such as were in vogue in the days of the Regency. Tall
+houses, with gables facing the street; few of them showing any light
+from their windows, and their dark outlines discernible on high against
+the midnight sky. Now he heard the voices of people near, emerging from
+a low theatre in a street at the right. A number of men come along the
+trottoir, toward Uncle David. They were going to a gaming-house and
+restaurant at the end of the street, which he had nearly reached. This
+troop of idlers he accompanies. They turn into an open door, and enter a
+passage not very brilliantly lighted. At the left was the open door of a
+restaurant. The greater number of those who enter follow the passage,
+however, which leads to the roulette-room.
+
+As Uncle David, with a caprice of curiosity, follows slowly in the wake
+of this accession to the company, a figure passes and goes before him
+into the room.
+
+With a strange thrill he takes or mistakes this figure for Mr.
+Longcluse. He pauses, and sees the tall figure enter the roulette-room.
+He follows it as soon as he recollects himself a little, and goes into
+the room. The players are, as usual, engrossed by the game. But at the
+far side beyond these busy people, he sees this person, whom he
+recognises by a light great-coat, stooping with his lips pretty near the
+ear of a man who was sitting at the table. He raises himself in a moment
+more, and stands before Uncle David, and at the first glance he is quite
+certain that Mr. Longcluse is before him. The tall man stands with
+folded arms, and looks carelessly round the room, and at Uncle David
+among the rest.
+
+"Here," he thought, "is the man; and the evidence, clear and conclusive,
+and so near this very spot, now scattered in dust and fragments, and the
+witness who might have clenched the case impracticable!"
+
+This tall man, however, he begins to perceive, has points, and strong
+ones, of dissimilarity, notwithstanding his general resemblance to Mr.
+Longcluse. His beard and hair are red; his shoulders are broader, and
+very round; much clumsier and more powerful he looks; and there is an
+air of vulgarity and swagger and boisterous good spirits about him,
+certainly in marked contrast with Mr. Longcluse's very quiet demeanour.
+
+Uncle David now finds himself in that uncomfortable state of oscillation
+between two opposite convictions which, in a matter of supreme
+importance, amounts very nearly to torture.
+
+This man does not appear at all put out by Mr. Arden's observant
+presence, nor even conscious of it. A place becomes vacant at the table,
+and he takes it, and stakes some money, and goes on, and wins and loses,
+and at last yawns and turns away, and walks slowly round to the door
+near which David Arden is standing. Is not this the very man whom he saw
+for a moment on board the steamer, as he crossed? As he passes a jet of
+gas, the light falls upon his face at an angle that brings out lines
+that seem familiar to the Englishman, and for the moment determines his
+doubts. David Arden, with his eyes fixed upon him, says, as he was about
+to pass him,--
+
+"How d'ye do, Mr. Longcluse?"
+
+The gentleman stops, smiles, and shrugs.
+
+"Pardon, Monsieur," he says in French, "I do not speak English or
+German."
+
+The quality of the voice that spoke these words was, he thought,
+different from Mr. Longcluse's--less tone, less depth, and more nasal.
+
+The gentleman pauses and smiles with his head inclined, evidently
+expecting to be addressed in French.
+
+"I believe I have made a mistake, Sir," hesitates Mr. Arden.
+
+The gentleman inclines his head lower, smiles, and waits patiently for a
+second or two. Mr. Arden, a little embarrassed, says,--
+
+"I thought, Monsieur, I had met you before in England."
+
+"I have never been in England, Monsieur," says the patient and polite
+Frenchman, in his own language. "I cannot have had the honour,
+therefore, of meeting Monsieur _there_."
+
+He pauses politely.
+
+"Then I have only to make an apology. I beg your--I beg--but surely--I
+think--by Jove!" he breaks into English, "I can't be mistaken--you _are_
+Mr. Longcluse."
+
+The tall gentleman looks so unaffectedly puzzled, and so politely
+good-natured, as he resumes, in the tones which seem perfectly natural,
+and yet one note in which David Arden fails to recognise, and says,--
+
+"Monsieur must not trouble himself of having made a mistake: my name is
+St. Ange."
+
+"I believe I _have_ made a mistake, Monsieur--pray excuse me."
+
+The gentleman bows very ceremoniously, and Monsieur St. Ange walks
+slowly out, and takes a glass of curaçoa in the outer room. As he is
+paying the _garçon_, Mr. Arden again appears, once more in a state of
+uncertainty, and again leaning to the belief that this person is indeed
+the Mr. Longcluse who at present entirely possesses his imagination.
+
+The tall stranger with the round shoulders in truth resembled the person
+who, in a midnight interview on Hampstead Heath, had discussed some
+momentous questions with Paul Davies, as we remember; but that person
+spoke in the peculiar accent of the northern border. _His_ beard, too,
+was exorbitant in length, and flickered wide and red, in the wind. This
+beard, on the contrary, was short and trim, and hardly so red, I think,
+as that moss-trooper's. On the whole, the likeness in both cases was
+somewhat rude and general. Still the resemblance to Longcluse again
+struck Mr. Arden so powerfully, that he actually followed him into the
+street and overtook him only a dozen steps away from the door, on the
+now silent pavement.
+
+Hearing his hurried step behind him, the object of his pursuit turns
+about and confronts him for the first time with an offended and haughty
+look.
+
+"Monsieur!" says he a little grimly, drawing himself up as he comes to a
+sudden halt.
+
+"The impression has forced itself upon me again that you _are_ no other
+than Mr. Walter Longcluse," says Uncle David.
+
+The tall gentleman recovered his good-humour, and smiled as before, with
+a shrug.
+
+"I have not the honour of that gentleman's acquaintance, Monsieur, and
+cannot tell, therefore, whether he in the least resembles me. But as
+this kind of thing is unusual, and grows wearisome, and may end in
+putting me out of temper--which is not easy, although quite
+possible--and as my assurance that I am really myself seems insufficient
+to convince Monsieur, I shall be happy to offer other evidence of the
+most unexceptionable kind. My house is only two streets distant. There
+my wife and daughter await me, and our curé partakes of our little
+supper at twelve. I am a little late," says he, listening, for the
+clocks are tolling twelve; "however, it is a little more than two
+hundred metres, if you will accept my invitation, and I shall be very
+happy to introduce you to my wife, to my daughter Clotilde, and to our
+good curé, who is a most agreeable man. Pray come, share our little
+supper, see what sort of people we are, and in this way--more agreeable,
+I hope, than any other, and certainly less fallacious--you can ascertain
+whether I am Monsieur St. Ange, or that other gentleman with whom you
+are so obliging as to confound me. Pray come; it is not much--a
+fricasée, a few cutlets, an omelette, and a glass of wine. Madame St.
+Ange will be charmed to make your acquaintance, my daughter will sing us
+a song, and you will say that Monsieur le Curé is really a most
+entertaining companion."
+
+There was something so simple and thoroughly good-natured in this
+invitation, under all the circumstances, that Mr. Arden felt a little
+ashamed of his persistent annoyance of so hospitable a fellow, and for
+the moment he was convinced that he must have been in error.
+
+"Sir," says David Arden, "I am now convinced that I must have been
+mistaken; but I cannot deny myself the honour of being presented to
+Madame St. Ange, and I assure you I am quite ashamed of the annoyance I
+must have caused you, and I offer a thousand apologies."
+
+"Not one, pray," replies the Frenchman, with great good-humour and
+gaiety. "I felicitate myself on a mistake which promises to result so
+happily."
+
+So side by side, at a leisurely pace, they pursued their way through
+these silent streets, and unaccountably the conviction again gradually
+stole over Uncle David that he was actually walking by the side of Mr.
+Longcluse.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER LXXXIII.
+
+A SHORT PARTING.
+
+
+The fluctuations of Mr. Arden's conviction continued. His new
+acquaintance chatted gaily. They passed a transverse street, and he saw
+him glance quickly right and left, with a shrewd eye that did not quite
+accord with his careless demeanour.
+
+Here for a moment the moon fell full upon them, and the effect of this
+new light was, once more, to impair Mr. Arden's confidence in his last
+conclusions about this person. Again he was at sea as to his identity.
+
+There were the gabble and vociferation of two women quarrelling in the
+street to the left, and three tipsy fellows, marching home, were singing
+a trio some way up the street to the right.
+
+They had encountered but one figure--a seedy scrivener, slipshod,
+shuffling his way to his garret, with a baize bag of law-papers to copy
+in his left hand, and a sheaf of quills in his right, and a pale,
+careworn face turned up towards the sky. The streets were growing more
+silent and deserted as they proceeded.
+
+He was sauntering onward by the side of this urbane and garrulous
+stranger, when, like a whisper, the thought came, "Take care!"
+
+David Arden stopped short.
+
+"Eh, bien?" said his polite companion, stopping simultaneously, and
+staring in his face a little grimly.
+
+"On reflection, Monsieur, it is so late, that I fear I should hardly
+reach my hotel in time if I were to accept your agreeable invitation,
+and letters probably await me, which I should, at least, _read_
+to-night."
+
+"Surely Monsieur will not disappoint me--surely Monsieur is not going to
+treat me so oddly?" expostulated Monsieur St. Ange.
+
+"Good-night, Sir. Farewell!" said David Arden, raising his hat as he
+turned to go.
+
+There intervened not two yards between them, and the polite Monsieur St.
+Ange makes a stride after him, and extends his hand--whether there is a
+weapon in it, I know not; but he exclaims fiercely,--
+
+"Ha! robber! my purse!"
+
+Fortunately, perhaps, at that moment, from a lane only a few yards away,
+emerge two gendarmes, and Monsieur St. Ange exclaims, "Ah, Monsieur,
+mille pardons! Here it is! All safe, Monsieur. Pray excuse my mistake as
+frankly as I have excused yours. Adieu!"
+
+Monsieur St. Ange raises his hat, shrugs, smiles, and withdrew.
+
+Uncle David thought, on the whole, he was well rid of his ambiguous
+acquaintance, and strode along beside the gendarmes, who civilly
+directed him upon his way, which he had lost.
+
+So, then, upon Mr. Longcluse's fortunes the sun shone; his star, it
+would seem, was in the ascendant. If the evil genius who ruled his
+destiny was contending, in a chess game, with the good angel of Alice
+Arden, her game seemed pretty well lost, and the last move near.
+
+When David Arden reached his hotel a note awaited him, in the hand of
+the Baron Vanboeren. He read it under the gas in the hall. It said:--
+
+    "We must, in this world, forgive and reconsider many things. I
+    therefore pardon you, you me. So soon as you have slept upon our
+    conversation, you will accept an offer which I cannot modify. I
+    always proportion the burden to the back. The rich pay me
+    handsomely; for the poor I have prescribed and operated, sometimes,
+    for nothing! You have the good fortune, like myself, to be
+    childless, wifeless, and rich. When I take a fancy to a thing,
+    nothing stops me; you, no doubt, in like manner. The trouble is
+    something to me; the danger, which you count nothing, to me is
+    _much_. The compensation I name, estimated without the circumstances,
+    is large; compared with my wealth, trifling; compared with
+    your wealth, nothing; as the condition of a transaction between
+    you and me, therefore, not worth mentioning. The accident of last
+    night I can repair. The original matrix of each mask remains safe in
+    my hands: from this I can multiply casts _ad libitum_. Both these
+    matrices I will hammer into powder at twelve o'clock to-morrow
+    night, unless my liberal offer shall have been accepted before that
+    hour. I write to a man of honour. We understand each other.
+
+    "EMMANUEL VANBOEREN."
+
+The ruin, then, was not irretrievable; and there was time to take
+advice, and think it over. In the baron's brutal letter there was a
+coarse logic, not without its weight.
+
+In better spirits David Arden betook himself to bed. It vexed him to
+think of submitting to the avarice of that wicked old extortioner; but
+to that submission, reluctant as he is, it seems probable he will come.
+
+And now his thoughts turn upon the hospitable Monsieur St. Ange, and he
+begins, I must admit not altogether without reason, to reflect what a
+fool he has been. He wonders whether that hospitable and polite
+gentleman had intended to murder him, at the moment when the gendarmes
+so luckily appeared. And in the midst of his speculations, overpowered
+by fatigue, he fell asleep, and ate his breakfast next morning very
+happily.
+
+Uncle David had none of that small diplomatic genius that helps to make
+a good attorney. That sort of knowledge of human nature would have
+prompted a careless reception of the baron's note, and an entire absence
+of that promptitude which seems to imply an anxiety to seize an offer.
+
+Accordingly, it was at about eleven o'clock in the morning that he
+presented himself at the house of the Baron Vanboeren.
+
+He was not destined to conclude a reconciliation with that German noble,
+nor to listen to his abrupt loquacity, nor ever more to discuss or
+negotiate anything whatsoever with him, for the Baron Vanboeren had been
+found that morning close to his hall door on the floor, shot with no
+less than three bullets through his body, and his pipe in both hands
+clenched to his blood-soaked breast like a crucifix. The baron is not
+actually dead. He has been hours insensible. He cannot live; and the
+doctor says that neither speech nor recollection can return before he
+dies.
+
+By whose hands, for what cause, in what manner the world had lost that
+excellent man, no one could say. A great variety of theories prevail on
+the subject. He had sent the old servant for Pierre la Roche, whom he
+employed as a messenger, and he had given him at about a quarter to
+eleven a note addressed to David Arden, Esquire, which was no doubt that
+which Mr. Arden had received.
+
+Had Heaven decreed that this investigation should come to naught? This
+blow seemed irremediable.
+
+David Arden, however, had, as I mentioned, official friends, and it
+struck him that he might through them obtain access to the rooms in
+which his interviews with the baron had taken place; and that an
+ingenious and patient artist in plaster might be found who would search
+out the matrices, or, at worst, piece the fragments of the mask
+together, and so, in part, perhaps, restore the demolished evidence. It
+turned out, however, that the destruction of these relics was too
+complete for any such experiments; and all that now remained was, upon
+the baron's letter of the evening before, to move in official quarters
+for a search for those "matrices" from which it was alleged the masks
+were taken.
+
+This subject so engrossed his mind, that it was not until after his late
+dinner that he began once more to think of Monsieur St. Ange, and his
+resemblance to Mr. Longcluse; and a new suspicion began to envelope
+those gentlemen in his imagination. A thought struck him, and up got
+Uncle David, leaving his wine unfinished, and a few minutes more saw him
+in the telegraph office, writing the following message:--
+
+    "From Monsieur David Arden, etc., to Monsieur Blount, 5 Manchester
+    Buildings, Westminster, London.
+
+    "Pray telegraph immediately to say whether Mr. Longcluse is at his
+    house, Bolton Street, Piccadilly."
+
+No answer reached him that night; but in the morning he found a telegram
+dated 11.30 of the previous night, which said--
+
+    "Mr. Longcluse is ill at his house at Richmond--better to-day."
+
+To this promptly he replied--
+
+    "See him, if possible, immediately at Richmond, and say how he
+    looks. The surrender of the lease in Crown Alley will be an excuse.
+    See him if there. Ascertain with certainty where. Telegraph
+    immediately."
+
+No answer had reached Uncle David at three o'clock P.M.; he had
+despatched his message at nine. He was impatient, and walked to the
+telegraph office to make inquiries, and to grumble. He sent another
+message in querulous and peremptory laconics. But no answer came till
+near twelve o'clock, when the following was delivered to him:--
+
+    "Yours came while out. Received at 6 P.M. Saw Longcluse at Richmond.
+    Looks seedy. Says he is all right now."
+
+He read this twice or thrice, and lowered the hand whose fingers held it
+by the corner, and looked up, taking a turn or two about the room; and
+he thought what a precious fool he must have appeared to Monsieur St.
+Ange, and then again, with another view of that gentleman's character,
+what an escape he had possibly had.
+
+So there was no distraction any longer; and he directed his mind now
+exclusively upon the distinct object of securing possession of the
+moulds from which the masks were taken; and for many reasons it is not
+likely that very much will come of his search.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER LXXXIV.
+
+AT MORTLAKE.
+
+
+Events do not stand still at Mortlake. It is now about four o'clock on a
+fine autumnal afternoon. Since we last saw her, Alice Arden has not once
+sought to pass the hall-door. It would not have been possible to do so.
+No one passed that barrier without a scrutiny, and the aid of the key of
+the man who kept guard at the door, as closely as ever did the office at
+the hatch of the debtor's prison. The suite of five rooms up-stairs, to
+which Alice is now strictly confined, is not only comfortable, but
+luxurious. It had been fitted up for his own use by Sir Reginald years
+before he exchanged it for those rooms down-stairs which, as he grew
+older, he preferred.
+
+Levi every day visited the house, and took a report of all that was said
+and planned up-stairs, in a _tête-à-tête_ with Phoebe Chiffinch, in the
+great parlour among the portraits. The girl was true to her young and
+helpless mistress, and was in her confidence, outwitting the rascally
+Jew, who every time, by Longcluse's order, bribed her handsomely for the
+information that was misleading him.
+
+From Phoebe the young lady concealed no pang of her agony. Well was it
+for her that in their craft they had exchanged the comparatively useless
+Miss Diaper for this poor girl, on whose apprenticeship to strange ways,
+and a not very fastidious life, they relied for a clever and
+unscrupulous instrument. Perhaps she had more than the cunning they
+reckoned upon. "But I 'av' took a liking to ye, Miss, and they'll not
+make nothing of Phoebe Chiffinch."
+
+Alice was alone in her room, and Phoebe Chiffinch came running up the
+great staircase singing, and through the intervening suite of rooms,
+entered that in which her young mistress awaited her return. Her song
+falters, and dies into a strange ejaculation, as she passes the door.
+
+"The Lord be thanked, that's over and done!" she exclaims, with a face
+pale from excitement.
+
+"Sit down, Phoebe; you are trembling; you must drink a little water. Are
+you well?"
+
+"La! quite well, Miss," said Phoebe, more cheerily, and then burst into
+tears. She gulped down some of the water which the frightened young lady
+held to her lips, and recovering quickly, she gets on her feet, and says
+impatiently--"I'm sure, Miss, I don't know what makes me such a fool;
+but I'm all right now, Ma'am; and you asked me, the other day, about the
+big key of the old back-door lock that I showed you, and I said, though
+it could not open no door, I would find a use for it, yet. So I 'av',
+Miss."
+
+"Go on; I recollect perfectly."
+
+"You remember the bit of parchment I asked you to write the words on
+yesterday evening, Miss? They was these: 'Passage on the left, from main
+passage to housekeeper's room,' etc. Well, I was with Mr. Vargers when
+he locked that passage up, and it leads to a door in the side of the
+'ouse, which it opens into the grounds; and in that houter door he left
+a key, and only took with him the key of the door at the other end,
+which it opens from the 'ousekeeper's passage. So all seemed sure--sure
+it is, so long as you can't get into that side passage, which it is
+locked."
+
+"I understand; go on, Phoebe."
+
+"Well, Miss, the reason I vallied that key I showed you so much, was
+because it's as like the key of the side passage as one egg is to
+another, only it won't turn in the lock. So, as that key I must 'av', I
+tacked the bit of parchment you wrote to the 'andle of the other, which
+the two matches exactly, and I didn't tell you, Miss, thinking what a
+taking you'd be in, but I went down to try if I could not take it for
+the right one."
+
+"It was kind of you not to tell me; go on," said the young lady.
+
+"Well, Miss, I 'ad the key in my pocket, ready to change; and I knew
+well how 'twould be, if I was found out--I'd get the sack, or be locked
+up 'ere myself, more likely, and no more chances for you. Mr. Vargers
+was in the room--the porter's room they calls it now--and in I goes. I
+did not see no one there, but Vargers and he was lookin' sly, I thought,
+and him and Mr. Boult has been talking me over, I fancy, and they don't
+quite trust me. So I began to talk, wheedling him the best I could to
+let me go into town for an hour; 'twas only for talk, for well I knew I
+shouldn't get to go; but nothing but chaff did he answer. And then, says
+I, is Mr. Levice come yet, and he said, he is, but he has a second key
+of the back door and he may 'av' let himself hout. Well, I says,
+thinking to make Vargers jealous, he's a werry pleasant gentleman, a bit
+too pleasant for me, and I'm a-going to the kitchen, and I'd rayther he
+wastnt there, smoking as he often does, and talking nonsense, when I'm
+in it. There's others that's nicer, to my fancy, than him--so, jest you
+go and see, and I'll take care of heverything 'ere till you come
+back--and don't you be a minute. There was the keys, lying along the
+chimney-piece, at my left, and the big table in front, and nothing to
+hinder me from changing mine for his, but Vargers' eye over me. Little I
+thought he'd 'av' bin so ready to do as I said. But he smiled to
+himself-like, and he said he'd go and see. So away he went; and I
+listens at the door till I heard his foot go on the tiles of the passage
+that goes down by the 'ousekeeper's room, and the billiard-room, to the
+kitchen; and then on tip-toe, as quick as light, I goes to the
+chimney-piece, and without a sound, I takes the very key I wanted in my
+fingers, and drops it into my pocket, but putting down the other in its
+place, I knocked down the big leaden hink-bottle, and didn't it make a
+bang on the floor--and a terrible hoarse voice roars out from the tother
+side of the table--'What the devil are you doing there, huzzy?' Saving
+your presence, Miss; and up gets Mr. Boult, only half awake, looking as
+mad as Bedlam, and I thought I would have fainted away! Who'd 'av'
+fancied he was in the room? He had his 'ead on the table, and the cloak
+over it, and I think, when they 'eard me a-coming downstairs, they
+agreed he should 'ide hisself so, to catch me, while Vargers would leave
+the room, to try if I would meddle with the keys, or the like--and while
+Mr. Boult was foxing, he fell asleep in right earnest. Warn't it a joke,
+Miss? So I brazent it hout, Miss, the best I could, and I threatened to
+complain to Mr. Levi, and said I'd stay no longer, to be talked to, that
+way, by sich as he. And Boult could not tell Vargers he was asleep, and
+so I saw him count over the keys, and up I ran, singing."
+
+By this time the girl was on her knees, concealing the key between the
+beds, with the others.
+
+"Thank God, Phoebe, you have got it! But, oh! all that is before us
+still!"
+
+"Yes, there's work enough, Miss. I'll not be so frightened no more. Tom
+Chiffinch, that beat the Finchley pet, after ninety good rounds, was my
+brother, and I won't show nothing but pluck, Miss, from this out--you'll
+see."
+
+Alice had proposed writing to summon her friends to her aid. But Phoebe
+protested against that extremely perilous measure. Her friends were away
+from London; who could say where? And she believed that the attempt to
+post the letters would miscarry, and that they were certain to fall into
+the hands of their jailors. She insisted that Alice should rely on the
+simple plan of escape from Mortlake.
+
+Martha Tansey, it is true, was anxious. She wondered how it was that she
+had not once heard from her young mistress since her journey to
+Yorkshire. And a passage in a letter which had reached her, from the old
+servant, at David Arden's town house, who had been mystified by Sir
+Richard, perplexed and alarmed her further, by inquiring how Miss Alice
+looked, and whether she had been knocked up by the journey to Arden on
+Wednesday.
+
+So matters stood.
+
+Each evening Mr. Levi was in attendance, and this day, according to
+rule, she went down to the grand old dining-room.
+
+"How'sh Miss Chiffinch?" said the little Jew, advancing to meet her;
+"how'sh her grashe the duchess, in the top o' the houshe? Ish my Lady
+Mount-garret ash proud ash ever?"
+
+"Well, I do think, Mr. Levice, there's a great change; she's bin growing
+better the last two days, and she's got a letter last night that's
+seemed to please her."
+
+"Wha'at letter?"
+
+"The letter you gave me last night for her."
+
+"O-oh! Ah! I wonder--eh? Do you happen to know what wa'azh in that ere
+letter?" he asked, in an insinuating whisper.
+
+"Not I, Mr. Levice. She don't trust me not as far as you'd throw a bull
+by the tail. You might 'av' managed that better. You must 'a frightened
+her some way about me. I try to be agreeable all I can, but she won't
+a-look at me."
+
+"Well, I don't want to know, _I'm_ sure. Did she talk of going out of
+doors since?"
+
+"No; there's a frost in the hair still, and she says till that's gone
+she won't stir out."
+
+"That frost will last a bit, I guess. Any more newshe?"
+
+"Nothing."
+
+"Wait a minute 'ere," said Mr. Levi, and he went into the room beyond
+this, where she knew there were writing materials.
+
+She waited some time, and at length took the liberty of sitting down.
+She was kept a good while longer. The sun went down; the drowsy crimson
+that heralds night overspread the sky. She coughed; several fits of
+coughing she tried at short intervals. Had Mr. Levice, as she called
+him, forgotten her? He came out at length in the twilight.
+
+"Shtay you 'ere a few minutes more," said that gentleman, as he walked
+thoughtfully through the room and paused. "You wazh asking yesterday
+where izh Sir Richard Arden. Well, hezh took hishelf off to Harden in
+Yorkshire, and he'll not be 'ome again for a week."
+
+Having delivered this piece of intelligence, he nodded, and slowly went
+to the hall, and closed the door carefully as he left the room. She
+followed to the door and listened. There was plainly a little fuss going
+on in the hall. She heard feet in motion, and low talking. She was
+curious and would have peeped, but the door was secured on the outside.
+The twilight had deepened, and for the first time she saw that a ray of
+candle-light came through the key-hole from the inner room. She opened
+the door softly, and saw a gentleman writing at the table. He was quite
+alone. He turned, and rose: a tall, slight gentleman, with a singular
+countenance that startled her.
+
+"You are Phoebe Chiffinch," said a deep, clear voice, sternly, as the
+gentleman pointed towards her with the plume end of the pen he held in
+his fingers. "I am Mr. Longcluse. It is I who have sent you two pounds
+each day by Levi. I hear you have got it all right."
+
+The girl curtseyed, and said "Yes, Sir," at the second effort, for she
+was startled. He had taken out and opened his pocket-book.
+
+"Here are _ten_ pounds," and he handed her a rustling new note by the
+corner. "I'll treat you liberally, but you must speak truth, and do
+exactly as you are ordered by Levi." She curtseyed again. There was
+something in that gentleman that frightened her awfully.
+
+"If you do so, I mean to give you a hundred pounds when this business is
+over. I have paid you as my servant, and if you deceive me I'll punish
+you; and there are two or three little things they complain of at the
+'Guy of Warwick,' and" (he swore a hard oath) "you shall hear of them if
+you do."
+
+She curtseyed, and felt, not angry, as she would if any one else had
+said it, but frightened, for Mr. Longcluse's was a name of power at
+Mortlake.
+
+"You gave Miss Arden a letter last night. You know what was in it?"
+
+"Yes, Sir."
+
+"What was it?"
+
+"An offer of marriage from you, Sir."
+
+"Yes: how do you know that?"
+
+"She told me, please, Sir."
+
+"How did she take it? Come, don't be afraid."
+
+"I'd say it pleased her well, Sir."
+
+He looked at her in much surprise, and was silent for a time.
+
+He repeated his question, and receiving a similar answer, reflected on
+it.
+
+"Yes; it _is_ the best way out of her troubles; she begins to see that,"
+he said, with a strange smile.
+
+He walked to the chimney-piece, and leaned on it; and forgot the
+presence of Phoebe. She was too much in awe to make any sign. Turning he
+saw her, suddenly.
+
+"You will receive some directions from Mr. Levi; take care you
+understand and execute them."
+
+He touched the bell, and Levi opened the door; and she and that person
+walked together to the foot of the stair, where in a low tone they
+talked.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER LXXXV.
+
+THE CRISIS.
+
+
+When Phoebe Chiffinch returned to Alice's room, it was about ten o'clock;
+a brilliant moon was shining on the old trees, and throwing their
+shadows on the misty grass. The landscape from these upper windows was
+sad and beautiful, and above the distant trees that were softened by the
+haze of night rose the silvery spire of the old church, in whose vault
+her father sleeps with a cold brain, thinking no more of mortgages and
+writs.
+
+Alice had been wondering what had detained her so long, and by the time
+she arrived had become very much alarmed.
+
+Relieved when she entered, she was again struck with fear when Phoebe
+Chiffinch had come near enough to enable her to see her face. She was
+pale, and with her eyes fixed on her, raised her finger in warning, and
+then glanced at the door which she had just closed.
+
+Her young mistress got up and approached her, also growing pale, for she
+perceived that danger was at the door.
+
+"I wish there was bolts to these doors. They've got other keys. Never
+mind; I know it all now," she whispered, as she walked softly up to the
+end of the room farthest from the door. "I said I'd stand by you, my
+lady; don't you lose heart. They're coming here in about a hour."
+
+"For God's sake, what is it?" said Alice faintly, her eyes gazing wider
+and wider, and her very lips growing white.
+
+"There's work before us, my lady, and there must be no fooling," said
+the girl, a little sternly. "Mr. Levi, please, has told me a deal, and
+all they expect from me, the villains. Are you strong enough to take
+your part in it, Miss? If not, best be quiet; best for both."
+
+"Yes; quite strong, Phoebe. Are we to leave this?"
+
+"I hope, Miss. We can but try."
+
+"There's light, Phoebe," she said, glancing with a shiver from the
+window. "It's a bright night."
+
+"I wish 'twas darker; but mind you what I say. Longcluse is to be here
+in a hour. Your brother's coming, God help you! and that little limb o'
+Satan, that black-eyed, black-nailed, dirty little Jew, Levice! They're
+not in town, they're out together near this, where a man is to meet them
+with writings. There's a licence got, Christie Vargers saw Mr. Longcluse
+showing it to your brother, Sir Richard; and I daren't tell Vargers that
+I'm for you. He'd never do nothing to vex Mr. Levice, he daren't.
+There's a parson here, a rum 'un, you may be sure. I think I know
+something about him; Vargers does. He's in the room now, only one away
+from this, next the stair head, and Vargers is put to keep the door in
+the same room. All the doors along, from one room to t'other, is open,
+from this to the stairs, except the last, which Vargers has the key of
+it; and all the doors opening from the rooms to the gallery is locked,
+so you can't get out o' this 'ere without passing through the one where
+parson is, and Mr. Vargers, please."
+
+"I'll speak to the clergyman," whispered Alice, extending her hands
+towards the far door; "God be thanked, there's one good man here, and
+he'll save me!"
+
+"La, bless you child! why that parson had his two pen'orth long ago, and
+spends half his nights in the lock-up."
+
+"I don't understand, Phoebe."
+
+"He had two years. He's bin in jail, Miss, Vargers says, as often as he
+has fingers and toes; and he's at his brandy and water as I came
+through, with his feet on the fender, and his pipe in his mouth. He's
+here to marry you, please 'm, to Mr. Longcluse, and _there's_ all the
+good _he'll_ do you; and your brother will give you away, Miss, and
+Levice and Vargers for witnesses, and me I dessay. It's every bit
+harranged, and they don't care the rinsing of a tumbler what you say or
+do; for through with it, slicks, they'll go, and say 'twas all right, in
+spite of all you can do; and who is there to make a row about it? Not
+you, after all's done."
+
+"We must get away! I'll lose my life, or I'll escape!"
+
+Phoebe looked at her in silence. I think she was measuring her strength,
+and her nerve, for the undertaking.
+
+"Well, 'm, it's time it was begun. The time is come. Here's your cloak,
+Miss, I'll tie a handkerchief over my head, if we get out; and here's
+the three keys, betwixt the bed and the mattress."
+
+After a moment's search on her knees, she produced them.
+
+"The big one and this I'll keep, and you'll manage this other, please;
+take it in your right hand--you must use it first. It opens the far door
+of the room where Vargers is, and if you get through, you'll be at the
+stair-head then. Don't you come in after me, till you see I have Vargers
+engaged another way. Go through as light as a bird flies, and take the
+key out of the door, at the other end, when you unlock it; and close it
+softly, else he'll see it, and have the house about our ears; and you
+know the big window at the drawing-room lobby; wait in the hollow of
+that window till I come. Do you understand, please, Miss?"
+
+Alice did perfectly.
+
+"Hish-sh!" said the maid, with a prolonged caution.
+
+A dead silence followed; for a minute--several minutes neither seemed to
+breathe.
+
+Phoebe whispered at length--
+
+"_Now_, Miss, are you ready?"
+
+"Yes," she whispered, and her heart beat for a moment as if it would
+suffocate her, and then was still; an icy chill stole over her, and as
+on tip-toe she followed Phoebe, she felt as if she glided without weight
+or contact, like a spirit.
+
+Through a dark room they passed, very softly, first, a little light
+under the door showed that there were candles in the next. They halted
+and listened. Phoebe opened the door and entered.
+
+Standing back in the shadow, Alice saw the room and the people in it,
+distinctly. The parson was not the sort of contraband clergyman she had
+fancied, by any means, but a thin hectic man of some four-and-thirty
+years, only looking a little dazed by brandy and water, and far gone in
+consumption. Handsome thin features, and a suit of seedy black, and a
+white choker, indicated that lost gentleman, who was crying silently as
+he smoked his pipe, I daresay a little bit tipsy, gazing into the fire,
+with his fatal brandy and water at his elbow.
+
+"Eh! Mr. Vargers, smoking after _all_ I said to you!" murmured Miss
+Phoebe severely, advancing toward her round-shouldered sweetheart, with
+her finger raised.
+
+Mr. Vargers replied pleasantly; and as this tender "chaff" flew lightly
+between the interlocutors, the parson looked still into the fire,
+hearing nothing of their play and banter, but sunk deep in the hell of
+his sorrowful memory.
+
+As Phoebe talked on, Vargers grew agreeable and tender, and in about
+three minutes after her own entrance, she saw with a thrill,
+imperfectly, just with the "corner of her eye," something pass behind
+them swiftly toward the outer door. The crisis, then, had come. For a
+moment there seemed a sudden light before her eyes, and then a dark
+mist; in another she recovered herself.
+
+Vargers stood up suddenly.
+
+"Hullo! what's gone with the door there?" said he, sternly ending their
+banter.
+
+If he had been looking on her with an eye of suspicion, he might have
+seen her colour change. But Phoebe was quick-witted and prompt, and
+saying, in hushed tones--
+
+"Well, dear, ain't I a fool, leaving the lady's door open? Look ye, now,
+Mr. Vargers, she's lying fast asleep on her bed; and that's the reason I
+took courage to come here and ask a favour. But I'd rayther you'd lock
+her door, for if she waked and missed me she'd be out here, and all the
+fat in the fire."
+
+"I dessay you're right, Miss," said he, with a more business-like
+gallantry; and as he shut the door and fumbled in his pocket for the
+key, she stole a look over her shoulder.
+
+The prisoner had got through, and the door at the other end was closed.
+
+With a secret shudder, she thanked God in her heart, while with a laugh
+she slapped Mr. Vargers' lusty shoulder, and said wheedlingly, "And now
+for the favour, Mr. Vargers: you must let me down to the kitchen for
+five minutes."
+
+A little more banter and sparring followed, which ended in Vargers
+kissing her, in spite of the usual squall and protest; and on his
+essaying to let her out, and finding the door unlocked, he swore that it
+was well she asked, as he'd 'av' got it hot and heavy for forgetting to
+lock it, when the "swells" came up. The door closed upon her: so far the
+enterprise was successful.
+
+She stood at the head of the stairs; she went down a few steps, and
+listened; then cautiously she descended. The moon shone resplendent
+through the great window at the landing below the drawing-room. It was
+that at which Uncle David had paused to listen to the minstrelsy of Mr.
+Longcluse.
+
+Here in that flood of white light stands Alice Arden, like a statue of
+horror. The girl, without saying a word, takes her by the cold hand, and
+leads her quickly down to the arch that opens on the hall.
+
+Just as they reached this point, the door of the room, at the right of
+the hall door, occupied by Mr. Boult, who did duty as porter, opens, and
+stepping out with a candle in his hand, he calls in a savage tone--
+
+"What's the row?"
+
+Phoebe pushed Alice's hand in the direction of the passage that leads to
+the housekeeper's room. For a moment the young lady stands irresolute.
+Her presence of mind returns. She noiselessly takes the hint, and enters
+the corridor; Phoebe advances to answer his challenge.
+
+"Well, Mr. Boult, and what _is_ the row, pray?" she pertly inquires,
+walking up to that gentleman, who eyes her sulkily, raising his candle,
+and displaying as he does so a big patch of red on each cheek-bone,
+indicative of the brandy, of which he smells potently.
+
+"What's the row?--_you're_ the row! What brings you down here, Miss
+Chivvige?"
+
+"My legs! There's your answer, you cross boy." She laughed wheedlingly.
+
+"Then walk you up again, and be d--d."
+
+"On! Mr. Boult."
+
+"P! Miss Phibbie."
+
+Mr. Boult was speaking thick, and plainly was in no mood to stand
+nonsense.
+
+"Now Mr. Boult, where's the good of making yourself disagreeable?"
+
+"Look at this 'ere," he replied, grimly holding a mighty watch, of some
+white metal, under her eyes--"you know your clock as well as me, Miss
+Chavvinge. The gentlemen will be in this 'ere awl in twenty minutes."
+
+"All the more need to be quick, Mr. Boult, Sir, and why will you keep me
+'ere talking?" she replies.
+
+"You'll go up them 'ere stairs, young 'oman; you'll not put a foot in
+the kitchen to-night," he says more doggedly.
+
+"Well, we'll see how it will be when they comes and I tells
+'em--'Please, gentlemen, the young lady, which you told me most
+particular to humour her in everything she might call for, wished a cup
+of tea, which I went down, having locked her door first, which here is
+the key of it,'" and she held it up for the admiration of Mr. Boult,
+"'which I consider it the most importantest key in the 'ouse; and though
+the young lady, she lay on her bed a-gasping, poor thing, for her cup of
+tea, Mr. Boult stopt me in the awl, and swore she shouldn't have a drop,
+which I could not get it, and went hup again, for he smelt all over of
+brandy, and spoke so wiolent, I daren't do as you desired.'"
+
+"I don't smell of brandy; no, I don't; do I?" he says, appealing to an
+imaginary audience. "And I don't want to stop you, if so be the case is
+so. But you'll come to this door and report yourself in five minute's
+time, or I'll tell 'em there's no good keepin' me 'ere no longer. I
+don't want no quarrellin' nor disputin', only I'll do my dooty, and I'm
+not afraid of man, woman, or child!"
+
+With which magnanimous sentiment he turned on his clumsy heel, and
+entered his apartment again.
+
+In a moment more Phoebe and Alice were at the door which admits to a
+passage leading literally to the side of the house. This door Phoebe
+softly unlocks, and when they had entered, locks again on the inside.
+They stood now on the passage leading to a side door, to which a few
+paces brought them. She opens it. The cold night air enters, and they
+step out upon the grass. She locks the door behind them, and throws the
+key among the nettles that grew in a thick grove at her right.
+
+"Hold my hand, my lady; it's near done now," she whispers almost
+fiercely; and having listened for a few seconds, and looked up to see if
+any light appeared in the windows, she ventures, with a beating heart,
+from under the deep shadow of the gables, into the bright broad
+moonlight, and with light steps together they speed across the grass,
+and reach the cover of a long grove of tall trees and underwood. All is
+silent here.
+
+Soon a distant shouting brings them to a terrible stand-still.
+Breathlessly Phoebe listens. No; it was not from the house. They resume
+their flight.
+
+Now under the ivy-laden branches of a tall old tree an owl startles them
+with its shriek.
+
+As Alice stares around her, when they stop in such momentary alarm, how
+strange the scene looks! How immense and gloomy the trees about them!
+How black their limbs stretch across the moon-lit sky! How chill and
+wild the moonlight spreads over the undulating sward! What a spectral
+and exaggerated shape all things take in her scared and over-excited
+gaze!
+
+Now they are approaching the long row of noble beeches that line the
+boundary of Mortlake. The ivy-bowered wall is near them, and the screen
+of gigantic hollies that guard the lonely postern through which Phoebe
+has shrewdly chosen to direct their escape.
+
+Thank God! they are at it. In her hand she holds the key, which shines
+in the moon-beams.
+
+Hush! what is this? Voices close to the door! Step back behind the holly
+clump, for your lives, quickly! A key grinds in the lock; the bolt works
+rustily; the door opens, and tall Mr. Longcluse enters, with every
+sinister line and shadow of his pale face marked with a death-like
+sternness, in the moonlight. Mr. Levi enters almost beside him; how
+white his big eyeballs gleam, as he steps in under the same cold light!
+Who next?
+
+Her _brother_! Oh, God! The mad impulse to throw her arms about his
+neck, and shriek her wild appeal to his manhood, courage, love, and
+stake all on that momentary frenzy!
+
+As this group halts in silence, while Sir Richard locks the door, the
+Jew directs his big dark eyes, as she thinks, right upon Phoebe
+Chiffinch, who stands in the shadow, and is therefore, she faintly
+hopes, not visible behind the screen of glittering leaves. Her eyes,
+nevertheless, meet his. He advances his head a little, with more than
+his usual prying malignity, she thinks. Her heart flutters, and sinks.
+She is on the point of stepping from her shelter and surrendering. With
+his cane he strikes at the leaves, aiming, I daresay, at a moth, for
+nothing is quite below his notice, and he likes smashing even a fly. In
+this case, having hit or missed it, he turns his fiery eyes, to the
+infinite relief of the girl, another way.
+
+The three men who have thus stept into the grounds of Mortlake don't
+utter a word as they stand there. They now recommence their walk toward
+the house.
+
+Phoebe Chiffinch, breathless, is holding Alice Arden's wrist with a firm
+grasp. As they brush the holly-leaves, in passing, the very sprays that
+touch the dresses of the scared girls are stirring. The pale group
+drifts by in silence. They have each something to meditate on. They are
+not garrulous. On they walk, like three shadows. The distance widens,
+the shapes grow fainter.
+
+"They'll soon be at the house, Ma'am, and wild work then. You'll do
+something for poor Vargers? Well, time enough! You must not lose heart
+now, my lady. You're all right, if you keep up for ten minutes longer.
+You don't feel faint-like! Good lawk, Ma'am! rouse up."
+
+"I'm better, Phoebe; I'm quite well again. Come on--come on!"
+
+Carefully, to make as little noise as possible she turned the key in the
+lock, and they found themselves in a narrow lane running by the wall,
+and under the trees of Mortlake.
+
+"Which way?"
+
+"Not toward the 'Guy of Warwick.' They'll soon be in chase of us, and
+that is the way they'll take. 'Twould never do. Come away, my lady; it
+won't be long till we meet a cab or something to fetch us where you
+please. Lean on me. I wish we were away from this wall. What way do you
+mean to go?"
+
+"To my Uncle David's house."
+
+And having exchanged these words, they pursued their way side by side,
+for a time, in silence.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER LXXXVI.
+
+PURSUIT.
+
+
+Arrived at Mortlake, when Mr. Longcluse had discovered with certainty
+the flight of Alice Arden, his first thought was that Sir Richard had
+betrayed him. There was a momentary paroxysm of insane violence, in
+which, if he could only have discovered that he was the accomplice of
+Alice's escape, I think he would have killed him.
+
+It subsided. How could Alice Arden have possessed such an influence over
+this man, who seemed to hate her? He sat down, and placed his hand to
+his broad, pale forehead, his dark eyes glaring on the floor, in what
+seemed an intensity of thought and passion. He was seized with a violent
+trembling fit. It lasted only for a few minutes. I sometimes think he
+loved that girl desperately, and would have made her an idolatrous
+husband.
+
+He walked twice or thrice up and down the great parlour in which they
+sat, and then with cold malignity said to Sir Richard--
+
+"But for you she would have married me; but for you I should have
+secured her now. _Consider_, how shall I settle with you?"
+
+"Settle how you will--do what you will. I swear (and he did swear hard
+enough, if an oath could do it, to satisfy any man) I've had _nothing_
+to do with it. I've never had a hint that she meditated leaving this
+place. I can't conceive how it was done, nor who managed it, and I know
+no more than you do where she is gone." And he clenched his vehement
+disclaimer with an imprecation.
+
+Longcluse was silent for a minute.
+
+"She has gone, I assume, to David Arden's house," he said, looking down.
+"There is no other house to receive her in town, and she does not know
+that he is away still. She knows that Lady May, and other friends, have
+gone. She's _there_. The will makes you, colourably, her guardian. You
+shall claim the custody of her person. We'll go there, and remove her."
+
+Old Sir Reginald's will, I may remark, had been made years before, when
+Richard was not twenty-two, and Alice little more than a child, and the
+baronet and his son good friends.
+
+He stalked out. At the steps was his trap, which was there to take Levi
+into town. That gentleman, I need not say, he did not treat with much
+ceremony. He mounted, and Sir Richard Arden beside him; and, leaving the
+Jew to shift for himself, he drove at a furious pace down the avenue.
+The porter placed there by Longcluse, of course, opened the gate
+instantaneously at his call. Outside stood a cab, with a trunk on it. An
+old woman at the lodge-window, knocking and clamouring, sought
+admission.
+
+"Let no one in," said Longcluse sternly to the man, who locked the iron
+gate on their passing out.
+
+"Hallo! What brings _her_ here? That's the old housekeeper!" said
+Longcluse, pulling up suddenly.
+
+It was quite true. Her growing uneasiness about Alice had recalled the
+old woman from the North. Martha Tansey, who had heard the clang of the
+gate and the sound of wheels and hoofs, turned about and came to the
+side of the tax-cart, over which Longcluse was leaning. In the brilliant
+moonlight, on the white road, the branches cast a network of black
+shadow. A patch of light fell clear on the side of the trap, and on
+Longcluse's ungloved hand as he leaned on it.
+
+"Here am I, Martha Tansey, has lived fifty year wi' the family, and what
+for am I shut out of Mortlake now?" she demanded, with stern audacity.
+
+A sudden change, however, came over her countenance, which contracted in
+horror, and her old eyes opened wide and white as she gazed on the back
+of Longcluse's hand, on which was a peculiar star-shaped scar. She drew
+back with a low sound, like the growl of a wicked old cat; it rose
+gradually to such a yell and a cry to God as made Richard's blood run
+cold, and lifting her hand toward her temple, waveringly, the old woman
+staggered back, and fell in a faint on the road.
+
+Longcluse jumped down and hammered at the window. "Hallo!" he cried to
+the man, "send one of your people with this old woman; she's ill. Let
+her go in that cab to Sir Richard Arden's house in town; you know it."
+And he cried to the cabman, "Lift her in, will you?"
+
+And having done his devoir thus by the old woman, he springs again into
+his tax-cart, snatches the reins from Sir Richard, and drives on at a
+savage pace for town.
+
+Longcluse threw the reins to Sir Richard when they reached David Arden's
+house, and himself thundered at the door.
+
+They had searched Mortlake House for Alice, and that vain quest had not
+wasted more than half-an-hour. He rightly conjectured that, if Alice had
+fled to David Arden's house, some of the servants who received her must
+be still on the alert. The door is opened promptly by an elderly servant
+woman.
+
+"Sir Richard Arden is at the door, and he wants to know whether his
+sister, Miss Arden, has arrived here from Mortlake."
+
+"Yes, Sir; she's up-stairs; but not by no means well, Sir."
+
+Longcluse stepped in, to secure a footing, and beckoning excitedly to
+Sir Richard, called, "Come in; all right. Don't mind the horse; it will
+take its chance." He walked impatiently to the foot of the stairs, and
+turned again toward the street door.
+
+At this moment, and before Sir Richard had time to come in, there come
+swarming out of David Arden's study, most unexpectedly, nearly a dozen
+men, more than half of whom are in the garb of gentlemen, and some three
+of them police. Uncle David himself, in deep conversation with two
+gentlemen, one of whom is placing in his breast-pocket a paper which he
+has just folded, leads the way into the hall.
+
+As they there stand for a minute under the lamp, Mr. Longcluse, gazing
+at him sternly from the stair, caught his eye. Old David Arden stepped
+back a little, growing pale, with a sudden frown.
+
+"Oh! Mr. Arden?" says Longcluse, advancing as if he had come in search
+of him.
+
+"That's enough, Sir," cries Mr. Arden, extending his hand peremptorily
+toward him; and he adds, with a glance at the constables, "_There's_ the
+man. That is Walter Longcluse."
+
+Longcluse glances over his shoulder, and then grimly at the group before
+him, and gathered himself as if for a struggle; the next moment he walks
+forward frankly, and asks, "What is the meaning of all this?"
+
+"A warrant, Sir," answers the foremost policeman, clutching him by the
+collar.
+
+"No use, Sir, making a row," expostulates the next, also catching him by
+the collar and arm.
+
+"Mr. Arden, can you explain this?" says Mr. Longcluse coolly.
+
+"You may as well give in quiet," says the third policeman, producing the
+warrant. "A warrant for murder. Walter Longcluse, _alias_ Yelland Mace,
+I arrest you in the Queen's name."
+
+"There's a magistrate here? Oh! yes, I see. How d'ye do, Mr. Harman? My
+name is Longcluse, as you know. The name Mays, or any other _alias_,
+you'll not insult me by applying to me, if you please. Of course this is
+obvious and utter trumpery. Are there informations, or what the devil is
+it?"
+
+"They have just been sworn before me, Sir," answered the magistrate, who
+was a little man, with a wave of his hand, and his head high.
+
+"Well, really! don't you _see_ the absurdity? Upon my soul! It _is_
+really _too_ ridiculous! You won't inconvenience me, of course,
+unnecessarily. My own recognisance, I suppose, will do?"
+
+"Can't entertain your application; quite out of the question," said his
+worship, with his hands in his pockets, rising slightly on his toes, and
+descending on his heels, as he delivered this sentence with a stoical
+shake of his head.
+
+"You'll send for my attorney, of course? I'm not to be humbugged, you
+know."
+
+"I must tell you, Mr. Longcluse, I can't listen to such language,"
+observes Mr. Harman sublimely.
+
+"If you have informations, they are the dreams of a madman. I don't
+blame any one here. I say, policeman, you need not hold me quite so
+hard. I only say, joke or earnest, I can't make head or tail of it; and
+there's not a man in London who won't be shocked to hear how I've been
+treated. Once more, Mr. Harman, I tender bail, any amount. It's too
+ridiculous. You can't really have a difficulty."
+
+"The informations are very strong, Sir, and the offence, you know as
+well as I do, Mr. Longcluse, is not bailable."
+
+Mr. Longcluse shrugged, and laughed gently.
+
+"I may have a cab or something? My trap's at the door. It's not solemn
+enough, eh, Mr. Harman? Will you tell one of your fellows to pick up a
+cab? Perhaps, Mr. Arden, you'll allow me a chair to sit down upon?"
+
+"You can sit in the study, if you please," says David Arden.
+
+And Longcluse enters the room with the police about him, while the
+servant goes to look for a cab. Sir Richard Arden, you may be sure, was
+not there. He saw that something was wrong, and he had got away to his
+own house. On arriving there, he sent to make inquiry, cautiously, at
+his uncle's, and thus learned the truth.
+
+Standing at the window, he saw his messenger return, let him in himself,
+and then considered, as well as a man in so critical and terrifying a
+situation can, the wisest course for him to adopt. The simple one of
+flight he ultimately resolved on. He knew that Longcluse had still two
+executions against him, on which, at any moment, he might arrest him. He
+knew that he might launch at him, at any moment, the thunderbolt which
+would blast him. He must wait, however, until the morning had confirmed
+the news; that certain, he dared not act.
+
+With a cold and fearless bearing, Longcluse had by this time entered the
+dreadful door of a prison. His attorney was with him nearly the entire
+night.
+
+David Arden, as he promised, had dictated to him in outline the awful
+case he had massed against his client.
+
+"I don't want any man taken by surprise or at disadvantage; I simply
+wish for truth," said he.
+
+A copy of the written statement of Paul Davies, whatever it was worth,
+duly witnessed, was already in his hands; the sworn depositions of the
+same person, made in his last illness, were also there. There were also
+the sworn depositions of Vanboeren, who _had_, after all, recovered
+speech and recollection; and a deposition, besides, very unexpected, of
+old Martha Tansey, who swore distinctly to the scar, a very peculiar
+mark indeed, on the back of his left hand. This the old woman had
+recognised with horror, at a moment so similar, as the scar, long
+forgotten, which she had for a terrible moment seen on the hand of
+Yelland Mace, as he clutched the rail of the gig while engaged in the
+murder.
+
+The plaster masks, which figured in the affidavits of Vanboeren, and of
+David Arden, were re-cast from the moulds, and made an effectual
+identification, corroborated, in a measure, by Mr. Plumes' silhouette of
+Yelland Mace.
+
+Other surviving witnesses had also turned up, who had deposed when the
+murder of Harry Arden was a recent event. The whole case was, in the
+eyes of the attorney, a very awful one. Mr. Longcluse's counsel was
+called up, like a physician whose patient is _in extremis_, at dead of
+night, and had a talk with the attorney, and kept his notes to ponder
+over.
+
+As early as prison rules would permit, he was with Mr. Longcluse, where
+the attorney awaited him.
+
+Mr. Blinkinsop looked very gloomy.
+
+"Do you despair?" asked Mr. Longcluse sharply, after a long
+disquisition.
+
+"Let me ask you one question, Mr. Longcluse. You have, before I ask it,
+I assume, implicit confidence in us; am I right?"
+
+"Certainly--implicit."
+
+"If you are innocent, we might venture on a line of defence which may
+possibly break down the case for the Crown. If you are guilty, that line
+would be fatal." He hesitated, and looked at Mr. Longcluse.
+
+"I know such a question has been asked in like circumstances, and I have
+no hesitation in telling you that I am _not_ innocent. Assume my guilt."
+
+The attorney, who had been drumming a little tattoo on the table,
+watches Longcluse earnestly as he speaks, suspending his tune, now
+lowers his eyes to the table, and resumed his drumming slowly with a
+very dismal countenance. He had been talking over the chances with this
+eminent counsel, Mr. Blinkinsop, Q.C., and he knew what his opinion
+would now be.
+
+"One effect of a judgment in this case is forfeiture?" inquired Mr.
+Longcluse.
+
+"Yes," answered counsel.
+
+"Everything goes to the Crown, eh?"
+
+"Yes; clearly."
+
+"Well, I have neither wife nor children. I need not care; but suppose I
+make my will now; that's a good will, ain't it, between this and
+judgment, if things should go wrong?"
+
+"Certainly," said Mr. Blinkinsop. "No judgment no forfeiture."
+
+"And now, Doctor, don't be afraid; tell me truly, shall I _do_?" said
+Mr. Longcluse, leaning back, and looking darkly and steadily in his
+face.
+
+"It is a nasty case."
+
+"Don't be afraid, I say. I should like to know, are the chances two to
+one against me?"
+
+"I'm afraid they are."
+
+"Ten to one? Pray say what you think."
+
+"Well, I think so."
+
+Mr. Longcluse grew paler. They were all three silent. After about a
+minute, he said, in a very low tone,--
+
+"You don't think I have a chance? Don't mislead me."
+
+"It is very gloomy."
+
+Mr. Longcluse pressed his hand to his mouth. There was a silence.
+Perhaps he wished to hide some nervous movement there. He stood up,
+walked about a little, and then stood by Mr. Blinkinsop's chair, with
+his fingers on the back of it.
+
+"We must make a great fight of this," said Mr. Longcluse suddenly.
+"We'll fight it hard; we must win it. We _shall_ win it, by----"
+
+And after a short pause, he added gently,--
+
+"That will do. I think I'll rest now; more, perhaps, another time.
+Good-bye."
+
+As they left the room, he signed to the attorney to stay.
+
+"I have something for you--a word or two."
+
+The attorney turned back, and they remained closeted for a time.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER LXXXVII.
+
+CONCLUSION.
+
+
+Sir Richard Arden had learned how matters were with Mr. Longcluse. He
+hesitated. Flight might provoke action of the kind for which there
+seemed no longer a motive.
+
+In an agony of dubitation, as the day wore on, he was interrupted. Mr.
+Rooke, Mr. Longcluse's attorney, had called. There was no good in
+shirking a meeting. He was shown in.
+
+"This is for you, Sir Richard," said Mr. Rooke, presenting a large
+letter. "Mr. Longcluse wrote it about three hours ago, and requested me
+to place it in your own hand, as I now do."
+
+"It is not any _legal_ paper----" began Sir Richard.
+
+"I haven't an idea," answered he. "He gave it to me thus. I had some
+things to do for him afterwards, and a call to make, at his desire, at
+Mr. David Arden's. When I got home I was sent for again. I suppose you
+heard the news?"
+
+"No; what is it?"
+
+"Oh, dear, really! They have heard it some time at Mr. Arden's. You
+didn't hear about Mr. Longcluse?"
+
+"No, nothing, excepting what we all know--his arrest."
+
+The attorney's countenance darkened, and he said, dropping his voice as
+low as he would have given a message in church--
+
+"Oh, poor gentleman! he died to-day. Some kind of fit, I believe; he's
+gone!"
+
+Then Mr. Rooke went into particulars, so far as he knew them, and
+mentioned that the coroner's inquest would be held that afternoon; and
+so he departed.
+
+Unmixed satisfaction accompanied the hearing of this news in Sir
+Richard's mind. But with reflection came the terrifying question, "Has
+Levi got hold of that instrument of torture and ruin--the forged
+signature?"
+
+In this new horror he saw the envelope which Rooke had handed to him,
+upon the table. He opened it, and saw the forged deed. Written across
+it, in Longcluse's hand, were the words--
+
+    "Paid by W. Longcluse before due.
+
+    "W. LONGCLUSE."
+
+That day's date was added.
+
+So the evidence of his guilt was no longer in the hands of a stranger,
+and Sir Richard Arden was saved.
+
+David Arden had already received under like circumstances, and by the
+same hand, two papers of immense importance. The first written in
+Rooke's hand and duly witnessed, was a very short will, signed by the
+testator, Walter Longcluse, and leaving his enormous wealth absolutely
+to David Arden. The second was a letter which attached a trust to this
+bequest. The letter said--
+
+    "I am the son of Edwin Raikes, your cousin. He had cast me off for
+    my vices, when I committed the crime, not intended to have amounted
+    to murder. It was Harry Arden's determined resistance and my danger
+    that cost him his life. I did kill Lebas. I could not help it. He
+    was a fool, and might have ruined me; and that villain, Vanboeren,
+    has spoken truth for once.
+
+    "I meant to set up the Arden family in my person. I should have
+    taken the name. My father relented on his death-bed, and left me his
+    money. I went to New York, and received it. I made a new start in
+    life. On the Bourse in Paris, and in Vienna, I made a fortune by
+    speculation; I improved it in London. You may take it all by my
+    will. Do with half the interest as you please, during your lifetime.
+    The other half pay to Miss Alice Arden, and the entire capital you
+    are to secure to her on your death.
+
+    "I had taken assignments of all the mortgages affecting the Arden
+    estates. They must go to Miss Arden, and be secured unalienably to
+    her.
+
+    "My life has been arduous and direful. That miserable crime hung
+    over me, and its dangers impeded me at every turn.
+
+    "You have played your game well, but with all the odds of the
+    position in your favour. I am tired, beaten. The match is over, and
+    you may rise now and say Checkmate.
+
+    "WALTER LONGCLUSE."
+
+That Longcluse had committed suicide, of course I can have no doubt. It
+must have been effected by some unusually subtle poison. The post-mortem
+examination failed to discover its presence. But there was found in his
+desk a curious paper, in French, published about five months before,
+upon certain vegetable poisons, whose presence in the system no chemical
+test detects, and no external trace records. This paper was noted here
+and there on the margin, and had been obviously carefully read. Any of
+these tinctures he could without much trouble have procured from Paris.
+But no distinct light was ever thrown upon this inquiry.
+
+In a small and lonely house, tenanted by Longcluse, in the then less
+crowded region of Richmond, were found proofs, no longer needed, of
+Longcluse's identity, both with the horseman who had met Paul Davies on
+Hampstead Heath, and the person who crossed the Channel from Southampton
+with David Arden, and afterwards met him in the streets of Paris, as we
+have seen. There he had been watching his movements, and traced him,
+with dreadful suspicion, to the house of Vanboeren. The turn of a die
+had determined the fate of David Arden that night. Longcluse had
+afterwards watched and seized an opportunity of entering Vanboeren's
+house. He knew that the baron expected the return of his messenger, rang
+the bell, and was admitted. The old servant had gone to her bed, and was
+far away in that vast house.
+
+Longcluse would have stabbed him, but the baron recognised him, and
+sprang back with a yell. Instantly Longcluse had used his revolver; but
+before he could make assurance doubly sure, his quick ear detected a
+step outside. He then made his exit through a window into a deserted
+lane at the side of the house, and had not lost a moment in commencing
+his flight for London.
+
+With respect to the murder of Lebas, the letter of Longcluse pretty
+nearly explains it. That unlucky Frenchman had attended him through his
+recovery under the hands of Vanboeren; and Longcluse feared to trust, as
+it now might turn out, his life, in his giddy keeping. Of course, Lebas
+had no idea of the nature of his crime, or that in England was the scene
+of its perpetration. Longcluse had made up his mind promptly on the
+night of the billiard-match played in the Saloon Tavern. When every eye
+was fixed upon the balls, he and Lebas met, as they had ultimately
+agreed, in the smoking-room. A momentary meeting it was to have been.
+The dagger which he placed in his keeping, Longcluse plunged into his
+heart. In the stream of blood that instantaneously flowed from the wound
+Longcluse stepped, and made one distinct impression of his boot-sole on
+the boards. A tracing of this Paul Davies had made, and had got the
+signatures of two or three respectable Londoners before the room filled,
+attesting its accuracy, he affecting, while he did so, to be a member of
+the detective police, from which body, for a piece of _over_-cleverness,
+he had been only a few weeks before dismissed. Having made his tracing,
+he obscured the blood-mark on the floor.
+
+The opportunity of distinguishing himself at his old craft, to the
+prejudice of the force, whom he would have liked to mortify, while
+earning, perhaps, his own restoration, was his first object. The
+delicacy of the shape of the boot struck him next. He then remembered
+having seen Longcluse--and his was the only eye that observed him--pass
+swiftly from the passage leading to the smoking-room at the beginning of
+the game. His mind had now matter to work upon; and hence his visit to
+Bolton Street to secure possession of the boot, which he did by an
+audacious _ruse_.
+
+His subsequent interview with Mr. Longcluse, in presence of David Arden,
+was simply a concerted piece of acting, on which Longcluse, when he had
+made his terms with Davies, insisted, as a security against the
+re-opening of the extortion.
+
+Nothing will induce Alice to accept one farthing of Longcluse's
+magnificent legacy. Secretly Uncle David is resolved to make it up to
+her from his own wealth, which is very great.
+
+Richard Arden's story is not known to any living person but the Jew
+Levi, and vaguely to his sister, in whose mind it remains as something
+horrible, but never approached.
+
+Levi keeps the secret for reasons more cogent than charitable. First he
+kept it to himself as a future instrument of profit. But on his
+insinuating something that promised such relations to Sir Richard, the
+young gentleman met it with so bold a front, with fury so unaffected,
+and with threats so alarming, founded upon a trifling matter of which
+the Jew had never suspected his knowledge, that Mr. Levi has not
+ventured either to "utilise" his knowledge, in a profitable way, or
+afterwards to circulate the story for the solace of his malice. They
+seem, in Mr. Rooke's phrase, to have turned their backs on one another;
+and as some years have passed, and lapse of time does not improve the
+case of a person in Mr. Levi's position, we may safely assume that he
+will never dare to circulate any definite stories to Sir Richard's
+prejudice. A sufficient motive, indeed, for doing so exists no longer,
+for Sir Richard, who had lived an unsettled life travelling on the
+Continent, and still playing at foreign tables when he could afford it,
+died suddenly at Florence in the autumn of '69.
+
+Vivian Darnley has been in "the House," now, nearly four years. Uncle
+David is very proud of him; and more impartial people think that he
+will, at last, take an honourable place in that assembly. His last
+speech has been spoken of everywhere with applause. David Arden's
+immensely increased wealth enables him to entertain very magnificent
+plans for this young man. He intends that he shall take the name of
+Arden, and earn the transmission of the title, or the distinction of a
+greater one.
+
+A year ago Vivian Darnley married Alice Arden, and no two people can be
+happier.
+
+Lady May, although her girlish ways have not forsaken her, has no
+present thoughts of making any man happy. She had a great cry all to
+herself when Sir Richard died, and she now persuades herself that he
+never meant one word he said of her, and that if the truth were known,
+although after that day she never spoke to him more, he had never really
+cared for more than one woman on earth. It was all spite of that odious
+Lady Wynderbroke!
+
+Alice has never seen Mortlake since the night of her flight from its
+walls.
+
+The two old servants, Crozier and Martha Tansey, whose acquaintance we
+made in that suburban seat of the Ardens, are both, I am glad to say,
+living still, and extremely comfortable.
+
+Phoebe Chiffinch, I am glad to add, was jilted by her uninteresting
+lover, who little knew what a fortune he was slighting. His desertion
+does not seem to have broken her heart, or at all affected her spirits.
+The gratitude of Alice Arden has established her in the prosperous
+little Yorkshire town, the steep roof, chimneys, and church tower of
+which are visible, among the trees, from the windows of Arden Court. She
+is the energetic and popular proprietress of the "Cat and Fiddle," to
+which thriving inn, at a nominal rent, a valuable farm is attached. A
+fortune of two thousand pounds from the same grateful friend awaits her
+marriage, which can't be far off, with the handsome son of rich Farmer
+Shackleton.
+
+THE END.
+
+
+
+
+  [ Transcriber's Note:
+
+    The following is a list of corrections made to the original.
+    The first line is the original line, the second the corrected one.
+
+    ALL IN DARK
+    ALL IN THE DARK
+
+  good humouredly.
+  good-humouredly.
+
+  Mr. Longcluse, the millionarie, had, of course, many poor enviers. Had
+  Mr. Longcluse, the millionaire, had, of course, many poor enviers. Had
+
+  sent me down for Charles; and the boy will be back. Sir, in two or three
+  sent me down for Charles; and the boy will be back, Sir, in two or three
+
+  "Oh oh! very good. And now, Sir," he said, in rising fury, turning upon
+  "Oh, oh! very good. And now, Sir," he said, in rising fury, turning upon
+
+  "You know him, Mr Darnley?" inquired Lady May.
+  "You know him, Mr. Darnley?" inquired Lady May.
+
+  "Why should it?" laughed Vivian Darnley, partly to cover perhaps, a
+  "Why should it?" laughed Vivian Darnley, partly to cover, perhaps, a
+
+  pretended to think her great deal more frightened than she really can
+  pretended to think her a great deal more frightened than she really can
+
+  you, and he ll arrange everything; and how soon do you wish to go?"
+  you, and he'll arrange everything; and how soon do you wish to go?"
+
+  likely to marry His estate was in the nattiest order. He had always
+  likely to marry. His estate was in the nattiest order. He had always
+
+  don't know what to make of it exactly; but it pleases her, and she
+  doesn't know what to make of it exactly; but it pleases her, and she
+
+  give an exact description of the man who had been dogging the decased;
+  give an exact description of the man who had been dogging the deceased;
+
+  for more than six years. And why? I needn't tell yon. You know the
+  for more than six years. And why? I needn't tell you. You know the
+
+  him for ever?"
+  him for ever!"
+
+  something. What has frightened you!"
+  something. What has frightened you?"
+
+  as he may suppose, and dated, and signed by espectable people; and I
+  as he may suppose, and dated, and signed by respectable people; and I
+
+  must try to persuade Lady May to get up that party to the Derby,"
+  must try to persuade Lady May to get up that party to the Derby."
+
+  "I believe," said Mr. Longcluse, with a laugh. "I am growing
+  "I believe," said Mr. Longcluse, with a laugh, "I am growing
+
+  "Yes, a little, perhaps. Don't you."
+  "Yes, a little, perhaps. Don't you?"
+
+  now, Master David, and not much for this world, I'm thinking'," she
+  now, Master David, and not much for this world, I'm thinking," she
+
+  this, ye have just a chilly flush o' the sun' settin', and, before it's
+  this, ye have just a chilly flush o' the sun settin', and, before it's
+
+  unacountable though distant relation to the vague suspicions that had
+  unaccountable though distant relation to the vague suspicions that had
+
+  "Do you know that gentleman's name!"
+  "Do you know that gentleman's name?"
+
+  you see, as to the indentity of the person you suspect; but some person
+  you see, as to the identity of the person you suspect; but some person
+
+  a swaggering' cove, and a yard o' red beard over his waistcoat, and
+  a swaggerin' cove, and a yard o' red beard over his waistcoat, and
+
+  very foolishly, and we _must_ drop him And now, darling, good-bye."
+  very foolishly, and we _must_ drop him. And now, darling, good-bye."
+
+  his homage, his tone of melancholy deference ever since she had know
+  his homage, his tone of melancholy deference ever since she had known
+
+  He heard the piano faintly, and, he thought, Alice's voice lso; and
+  He heard the piano faintly, and, he thought, Alice's voice also; and
+
+  certainly he saw Vivian Darnley in the drawing-room indow, as his cab
+  certainly he saw Vivian Darnley in the drawing-room window, as his cab
+
+  others a note from Lady Mary Penrose, reminding him of her little
+  others a note from Lady May Penrose, reminding him of her little
+
+  unauthenticated, unpleasant. There were whispered with sneers by Mr.
+  unauthenticated, unpleasant. These were whispered with sneers by Mr.
+
+  have thought that, the muscian having departed, their stay in that room
+  have thought that, the musician having departed, their stay in that room
+
+  So over the short grass that handsome girl walked, with Mr Longcluse at
+  So over the short grass that handsome girl walked, with Mr. Longcluse at
+
+  "Yes, she was here; she came with Lady Tramways. They went away about
+  "Yes, she was here; she came with Lady Tramway. They went away about
+
+  "Now, Sir, you'll be so good as to to observe that you have taken upon
+  "Now, Sir, you'll be so good as to observe that you have taken upon
+
+  trace a name or two on the pages that are passing That sunset, that
+  trace a name or two on the pages that are passing. That sunset, that
+
+  saw it, and the Cæsars saw it, and the Pharoahs saw it, and we see it
+  saw it, and the Cæsars saw it, and the Pharaohs saw it, and we see it
+
+  with coarse, black hair, that might not unsuitable stuff a chair. His
+  with coarse, black hair, that might not unsuitably stuff a chair. His
+
+  But not pays his bets! And how could he? Ten shillings in the pound? Not
+  But not pay his bets! And how could he? Ten shillings in the pound? Not
+
+  the rest are rifling, but they were the most impertinent, and I was so
+  the rest are trifling, but they were the most impertinent, and I was so
+
+  eloquence. There was in Cicero's face, he though, something satirical
+  eloquence. There was in Cicero's face, he thought, something satirical
+
+  again in danger. I I am not going to help you." His blue eyes looked cold
+  again in danger. I am not going to help you." His blue eyes looked cold
+
+      refugees.
+      refugees."
+
+  circumstances to which I have but alluded, I hope to be in town
+  circumstances to which I have but alluded. I hope to be in town
+
+  hall-door Don't mind knocking, ring the bell," he said to the driver.
+  hall-door. Don't mind knocking, ring the bell," he said to the driver.
+
+  and distinctness, and in accents that seemed, somehow to ring through
+  and distinctness, and in accents that seemed, somehow, to ring through
+
+  table, at the other of which he had arrested his monotonous shuffle
+  table, at the other end of which he had arrested his monotonous shuffle
+
+  So spoke Tansey, into whose talk, in moments of excitement returned
+  So spoke Tansey, into whose talk, in moments of excitement, returned
+
+  "No, dear, never mind him--he's well enough." David, Arden peeped at his
+  "No, dear, never mind him--he's well enough." David Arden peeped at his
+
+  sheventeen, ash I m a shinner!"
+  sheventeen, ash I'm a shinner!"
+
+  In a very small room, where burned a single jet of gas, Mr. Mr. Arden
+  In a very small room, where burned a single jet of gas, Mr. Arden
+
+  CHAPTER XLVIII
+  CHAPTER XLVIII.
+
+  suavity of manner, and in the perennial mourning that belongs to a
+  suavity of manner, and in the perennial mourning that belongs to
+
+  which would corroborate his first vague suspicions?"
+  which would corroborate his first vague suspicions?
+
+  The oak-parlour was a fine old room, and into the panels were let four
+  The oak-parlour was a fine old room, and into the panels were set four
+
+  Italian greyhound by a blue ribbon, and the gentlemen stood booted for
+  Italian greyhound by a blue ribbon, and the gentleman stood booted for
+
+  he'll stay still your Uncle David comes, for he told him he had something
+  he'll stay till your Uncle David comes, for he told him he had something
+
+  under the little chuch, whose steeple cast its shadow every sunny
+  under the little church, whose steeple cast its shadow every sunny
+
+  from Lady May Penrose a note, in the folowing terms:--
+  from Lady May Penrose a note, in the following terms:--
+
+  least picturesque and and most probable way. I should like to know the
+  least picturesque and most probable way. I should like to know the
+
+  that gradually overcome her more and more till she almost felt faint,
+  that gradually overcame her more and more till she almost felt faint,
+
+  connected with Alice? Slowly it passes along. Through one opening made
+  connected with Alice! Slowly it passes along. Through one opening made
+
+  to ensure a system of check, such as would made it next to impossible
+  to ensure a system of check, such as would make it next to impossible
+
+  Vanboeren
+  Vanboeren.
+
+  in London, was, I believe in your employment?"
+  in London, was, I believe, in your employment?"
+
+  "I am in London, Sir, ubon my business, and no one else's. I I am sinking
+  "I am in London, Sir, ubon my business, and no one else's. I am sinking
+
+  battered felt hat, in which a a costermonger would scarcely have gone
+  battered felt hat, in which a costermonger would scarcely have gone
+
+  end contracting some some incurable insanity; and that insanity of the
+  end contracting some incurable insanity; and that insanity of the
+
+  who is for a moment doubtful whther its terrors or its fury may
+  who is for a moment doubtful whether its terrors or its fury may
+
+  gallery exsited. How were they taken? Photographs are the colourless
+  gallery existed. How were they taken? Photographs are the colourless
+
+  There is something in that pale face and spectra smile that fascinates
+  There is something in that pale face and spectral smile that fascinates
+
+  Boulogne, or where he likes--I'll stand t--and I don't think he'll need
+  Boulogne, or where he likes--I'll stand it--and I don't think he'll need
+
+  "Yes, as were driving into town to-day, Uncle David told me so
+  "Yes, as we were driving into town to-day, Uncle David told me so
+
+  would marry me at all, Isn't it better to say, 'My Angelina,' or
+  would marry me at all. Isn't it better to say, 'My Angelina,' or
+
+  message for his sister with old Crozier ordered his servant and trap to
+  message for his sister with old Crozier, ordered his servant and trap to
+
+  harmlesh."
+  harmlesh.'"
+
+  heavy skip upon the flags, where she executed an involuutary frisk that
+  heavy skip upon the flags, where she executed an involuntary frisk that
+
+  staring at the smiling face of the young lady; you can't be serious!"
+  staring at the smiling face of the young lady; "you can't be serious!"
+
+  was no more), she had herished for him was gone, and a great disgust
+  was no more), she had cherished for him was gone, and a great disgust
+
+  was there nstead.
+  was there instead.
+
+  almos breathlessly,--
+  almost breathlessly,--
+
+  see the cold glimmer of the windows that reflected the gray horizon.
+  see the cold glimmer of the windows that reflected the grey horizon.
+
+  the gate he saw the distant lights, and heard through the the dim air the
+  the gate he saw the distant lights, and heard through the dim air the
+
+  dragging Levi by the arm all this time towards the candles: "do now,
+  dragging Levi by the arm all this time towards the candles): "do now,
+
+  heaven, before I have time to think?"
+  heaven, before I have time to think!"
+
+  "That'sh the note you forgot in my offish yeshterday, withhish name
+  "That'sh the note you forgot in my offish yeshterday, with hish name
+
+  enter. How your friends will laugh?"
+  enter. How your friends will laugh!"
+
+  "La! who'd a thought o' seeing you, Master Richard! why, ou told Miss
+  "La! who'd a thought o' seeing you, Master Richard! why, you told Miss
+
+  Alice you'd not be here till to-morrow!" she says ettishly, holding the
+  Alice you'd not be here till to-morrow!" she says pettishly, holding the
+
+  afraid of him! Dick, you look ill and unhappy: what's the matter!"
+  afraid of him! Dick, you look ill and unhappy: what's the matter?"
+
+  family there a happetite for another up here Azh I 'ope to be shaved, I
+  family there a happetite for another up here. Azh I 'ope to be shaved, I
+
+  locked. and the keysh with him, before dark, thish evening, except only
+  locked, and the keysh with him, before dark, thish evening, except only
+
+  Sir Richard leaned back in the cab as he drove into town, He had as yet
+  Sir Richard leaned back in the cab as he drove into town. He had as yet
+
+  no plan formed. It was a more complicated exploit that he was at the
+  no plan formed. It was a more complicated exploit than he was at the
+
+  spirited away like the rest Sir Richard had told her that his sister
+  spirited away like the rest. Sir Richard had told her that his sister
+
+  Richard lounges, expecting the arrival of David Arden almost momentarily.
+  Richard lounge, expecting the arrival of David Arden almost momentarily.
+
+  six distinct master-pieces of Watteau's. I have know that for ten
+  six distinct master-pieces of Watteau's. I have known that for ten
+
+  but slightly. You wish. perhaps to learn particulars about those
+  but slightly. You wish, perhaps, to learn particulars about those
+
+  "But you talk of bringing me face to face withthem; how soon?"
+  "But you talk of bringing me face to face with them; how soon?"
+
+  "No, in the the solid. Here is the key of the catacombs." And he took a
+  "No, in the solid. Here is the key of the catacombs." And he took a
+
+  "Bah! what a wise man Then I may show you whom I please, and you know
+  "Bah! what a wise man. Then I may show you whom I please, and you know
+
+  "And _is_ more. Why, count the words, one, two, four six, eight. There
+  "And _is_ more. Why, count the words, one, two, four, six, eight. There
+
+  nothing. Come, come. Monsieur! kindly take the candle."
+  nothing. Come, come, Monsieur! kindly take the candle."
+
+  which his work has strewn the floor
+  which his work has strewn the floor.
+
+  step, all is up with that, You see--you understand. Bah! you are no
+  step, all is up with that. You see--you understand. Bah! you are no
+
+  fool; it is plain. all I sacrifice."
+  fool; it is plain, all I sacrifice."
+
+  fared with him, if he had, I can't tell."
+  fared with him, if he had, I can't tell.
+
+  CHATPER LXXXIV.
+  CHAPTER LXXXIV.
+
+  mind; I know it all know," she whispered, as she walked softly up to the
+  mind; I know it all now," she whispered, as she walked softly up to the
+
+  time, or I'll tell 'em there's no good keepin' me 'ere no longer I
+  time, or I'll tell 'em there's no good keepin' me 'ere no longer. I
+
+  to do it. I've never had a hint that she meditated leaving this
+  to do with it. I've never had a hint that she meditated leaving this
+
+  upon the table. He opened it, and saw the orged deed. Written across
+  upon the table. He opened it, and saw the forged deed. Written across
+
+  desk a curious paper, in French. published about five months before,
+  desk a curious paper, in French, published about five months before,
+
+  nearly explains it. That unlucky Frenchman had attended him though his
+  nearly explains it. That unlucky Frenchman had attended him through his
+
+  ]
+
+
+
+
+
+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Checkmate, by Joseph Sheridan Le Fanu
+
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+<pre>
+
+The Project Gutenberg EBook of Checkmate, by Joseph Sheridan Le Fanu
+
+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: Checkmate
+
+Author: Joseph Sheridan Le Fanu
+
+Release Date: January 1, 2012 [EBook #38460]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: UTF-8
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK CHECKMATE ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Suzanne Shell, Jana Srna and the Online
+Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This
+file was produced from images generously made available
+by The Internet Archive/Canadian Libraries)
+
+
+
+
+
+
+</pre>
+
+
+
+<div id="tnote">
+<p class="center"><b>Transcriber's Notes:</b></p>
+
+<p>Every effort has been made to replicate this text as faithfully
+as possible, including inconsistencies in spelling and hyphenation.</p>
+
+<p>Some corrections of spelling and punctuation have been made.
+<span class="screen">They are marked <ins title="transcriber's note">like
+this</ins> in the text. The original text appears when hovering the cursor
+over the marked text.</span> A <a href="#tn-bottom">list of amendments</a> is
+at the end of the text.</p>
+</div>
+
+<p class="center page-break" style="font-size: x-large;">CHECKMATE</p>
+
+<p class="center page-break" style="font-size: large;"><a name="Advertisement">BY THE SAME AUTHOR</a></p>
+
+<ul id="works">
+<li>GUY DEVERELL</li>
+<li>ALL <ins title="IN">IN THE</ins> DARK</li>
+<li>THE WYVERN MYSTERY</li>
+<li>THE COCK AND ANCHOR</li>
+<li>WYLDER'S HAND</li>
+<li>THE WATCHER</li>
+<li>CHECKMATE</li>
+<li>ROSE AND THE KEY</li>
+<li>TENANTS OF MALLORY</li>
+<li>WILLING TO DIE</li>
+<li>GOLDEN FRIARS</li>
+<li>THE EVIL GUEST</li>
+</ul>
+
+<div id="coverpage" class="image-center page-break" style="width: 400px;">
+<img src="images/title-page.jpg" width="400" height="600" alt=""/>
+</div>
+
+<h1>Checkmate</h1>
+
+<p class="center" style="line-height: 1.8; margin: 2em auto 4em auto;"><small>BY</small><br/>
+J. S. LE FANU</p>
+
+<p class="right"><span style="margin-right: 3em;">Downey &amp; C<sup>o</sup>.</span><br/>
+<span style="margin-right: 1.5em;">12 York S<sup>t</sup>.</span><br/>
+Covent Garden.</p>
+
+<h2 class="chapter-beginning"><a class="pagenum" name="Page_iii" title="iii"> </a>CONTENTS.</h2>
+
+<table id="toc" summary="Contents">
+<tr>
+  <th colspan="2">CHAPTER</th>
+  <th class="right">PAGE</th>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="chapter">I.</td>
+  <td>MORTLAKE HALL,</td>
+  <td class="right"><a href="#Page_1">1</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="chapter">II.</td>
+  <td>MARTHA TANSEY,</td>
+  <td class="right"><a href="#Page_7">7</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="chapter">III.</td>
+  <td>MR. LONGCLUSE OPENS HIS HEART,</td>
+  <td class="right"><a href="#Page_13">13</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="chapter">IV.</td>
+  <td>MONSIEUR LEBAS,</td>
+  <td class="right"><a href="#Page_17">17</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="chapter">V.</td>
+  <td>A CATASTROPHE,</td>
+  <td class="right"><a href="#Page_22">22</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="chapter">VI.</td>
+  <td>TO BED,</td>
+  <td class="right"><a href="#Page_26">26</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="chapter">VII.</td>
+  <td>FAST FRIENDS,</td>
+  <td class="right"><a href="#Page_31">31</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="chapter">VIII.</td>
+  <td>CONCERNING A BOOT,</td>
+  <td class="right"><a href="#Page_38">38</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="chapter">IX.</td>
+  <td>THE MAN WITHOUT A NAME,</td>
+  <td class="right"><a href="#Page_43">43</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="chapter">X.</td>
+  <td>THE ROYAL OAK,</td>
+  <td class="right"><a href="#Page_48">48</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="chapter">XI.</td>
+  <td>THE TELEGRAM ARRIVES,</td>
+  <td class="right"><a href="#Page_55">55</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="chapter">XII.</td>
+  <td>SIR REGINALD ARDEN,</td>
+  <td class="right"><a href="#Page_62">62</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="chapter">XIII.</td>
+  <td>ON THE ROAD,</td>
+  <td class="right"><a href="#Page_68">68</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="chapter">XIV.</td>
+  <td>MR. LONGCLUSE'S BOOT FINDS A TEMPORARY ASYLUM,</td>
+  <td class="right"><a href="#Page_72">72</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="chapter">XV.</td>
+  <td>FATHER AND SON,</td>
+  <td class="right"><a href="#Page_79">79</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="chapter">XVI.</td>
+  <td>A MIDNIGHT MEETING,</td>
+  <td class="right"><a href="#Page_84">84</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="chapter">XVII.</td>
+  <td>MR. LONGCLUSE AT MORTLAKE HALL,</td>
+  <td class="right"><a href="#Page_91">91</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="chapter">XVIII.</td>
+  <td>THE PARTY IN THE DINING-ROOM,</td>
+  <td class="right"><a href="#Page_96">96</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="chapter">XIX.</td>
+  <td>IN MRS. TANSEY'S ROOM,</td>
+  <td class="right"><a href="#Page_103">103</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="chapter">XX.</td>
+  <td>MRS. TANSEY'S STORY,</td>
+  <td class="right"><a href="#Page_108">108</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="chapter">XXI.</td>
+  <td>A WALK BY MOONLIGHT,</td>
+  <td class="right"><a href="#Page_115">115</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="chapter">XXII.</td>
+  <td>MR. LONGCLUSE MAKES AN ODD CONFIDENCE,</td>
+  <td class="right"><a href="#Page_120">120</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="chapter">XXIII.</td>
+  <td>THE MEETING,</td>
+  <td class="right"><a href="#Page_125">125</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="chapter">XXIV.</td>
+  <td>MR. LONGCLUSE FOLLOWS A SHADOW,</td>
+  <td class="right"><a href="#Page_129">129</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="chapter">XXV.</td>
+  <td>A TETE-A-TETE,</td>
+  <td class="right"><a href="#Page_133">133</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="chapter">XXVI.</td>
+  <td>THE GARDEN AT MORTLAKE,</td>
+  <td class="right"><a href="#Page_137">137</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="chapter">XXVII.</td>
+  <td>WINGED WORDS,</td>
+  <td class="right"><a href="#Page_141">141</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="chapter">XXVIII.</td>
+  <td>STORIES ABOUT MR. LONGCLUSE,</td>
+  <td class="right"><a href="#Page_147">147</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="chapter">XXIX.</td>
+  <td>THE GARDEN PARTY,</td>
+  <td class="right"><a href="#Page_153">153</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="chapter">XXX.</td>
+  <td>HE SEES HER,</td>
+  <td class="right"><a href="#Page_158">158</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="chapter">XXXI.</td>
+  <td>ABOUT THE GROUNDS,</td>
+  <td class="right"><a href="#Page_161">161</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="chapter">XXXII.</td>
+  <td>UNDER THE LIME-TREES,</td>
+  <td class="right"><a href="#Page_167">167</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="chapter">XXXIII.</td>
+  <td>THE DERBY,</td>
+  <td class="right"><a href="#Page_171">171</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="chapter">XXXIV.</td>
+  <td>A SHARP COLLOQUY,</td>
+  <td class="right"><a href="#Page_174">174</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="chapter">XXXV.</td>
+  <td>DINNER AT MORTLAKE,</td>
+  <td class="right"><a href="#Page_179">179</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="chapter">XXXVI.</td>
+  <td>MR. LONGCLUSE SEES A LADY'S NOTE,</td>
+  <td class="right"><a href="#Page_183">183</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="chapter">XXXVII.</td>
+  <td>WHAT ALICE COULD SAY,</td>
+  <td class="right"><a href="#Page_188">188</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="chapter">XXXVIII.</td>
+  <td>GENTLEMEN IN TROUBLE,</td>
+  <td class="right"><a href="#Page_192">192</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="chapter">XXXIX.</td>
+  <td>BETWEEN FRIENDS,</td>
+  <td class="right"><a href="#Page_196">196</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="chapter">XL.</td>
+  <td>AN INTERVIEW IN THE STUDY,</td>
+  <td class="right"><a href="#Page_199">199</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="chapter">XLI.</td>
+  <td>VAN APPOINTS HIMSELF TO A DIPLOMATIC POST,</td>
+  <td class="right"><a href="#Page_203">203</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="chapter">XLII.</td>
+  <td>DIPLOMACY,</td>
+  <td class="right"><a href="#Page_206">206</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="chapter"><a class="pagenum" name="Page_iv" title="iv"> </a>XLIII.</td>
+  <td>A LETTER AND A SUMMONS,</td>
+  <td class="right"><a href="#Page_209">209</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="chapter">XLIV.</td>
+  <td>THE REASON OF ALICE'S NOTE,</td>
+  <td class="right"><a href="#Page_213">213</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="chapter">XLV.</td>
+  <td>COLLISION,</td>
+  <td class="right"><a href="#Page_219">219</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="chapter">XLVI.</td>
+  <td>AN UNKNOWN FRIEND,</td>
+  <td class="right"><a href="#Page_224">224</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="chapter">XLVII.</td>
+  <td>BY THE RIVER,</td>
+  <td class="right"><a href="#Page_229">229</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="chapter">XLVIII.</td>
+  <td>SUDDEN NEWS,</td>
+  <td class="right"><a href="#Page_232">232</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="chapter">XLIX.</td>
+  <td>VOWS FOR THE FUTURE,</td>
+  <td class="right"><a href="#Page_236">236</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="chapter">L.</td>
+  <td>UNCLE DAVID'S SUSPICIONS,</td>
+  <td class="right"><a href="#Page_239">239</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="chapter">LI.</td>
+  <td>THE SILHOUETTE,</td>
+  <td class="right"><a href="#Page_244">244</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="chapter">LII.</td>
+  <td>MR. LONGCLUSE EMPLOYED,</td>
+  <td class="right"><a href="#Page_248">248</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="chapter">LIII.</td>
+  <td>THE NIGHT OF THE FUNERAL,</td>
+  <td class="right"><a href="#Page_252">252</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="chapter">LIV.</td>
+  <td>AMONG THE TREES,</td>
+  <td class="right"><a href="#Page_258">258</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="chapter">LV.</td>
+  <td>MR. LONGCLUSE SEES A FRIEND,</td>
+  <td class="right"><a href="#Page_262">262</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="chapter">LVI.</td>
+  <td>A HOPE EXPIRES,</td>
+  <td class="right"><a href="#Page_266">266</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="chapter">LVII.</td>
+  <td>LEVI'S APOLOGUE,</td>
+  <td class="right"><a href="#Page_272">272</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="chapter">LVIII.</td>
+  <td>THE BARON COMES TO TOWN,</td>
+  <td class="right"><a href="#Page_276">276</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="chapter">LIX.</td>
+  <td>TWO OLD FRIENDS MEET AND PART,</td>
+  <td class="right"><a href="#Page_281">281</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="chapter">LX.</td>
+  <td>&ldquo;SAUL,&rdquo;</td>
+  <td class="right"><a href="#Page_286">286</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="chapter">LXI.</td>
+  <td>A WAKING DREAM,</td>
+  <td class="right"><a href="#Page_290">290</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="chapter">LXII.</td>
+  <td>LOVE AND PLAY,</td>
+  <td class="right"><a href="#Page_295">295</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="chapter">LXIII.</td>
+  <td>PLANS,</td>
+  <td class="right"><a href="#Page_300">300</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="chapter">LXIV.</td>
+  <td>FROM FLOWER TO FLOWER,</td>
+  <td class="right"><a href="#Page_304">304</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="chapter">LXV.</td>
+  <td>BEHIND THE ARRAS,</td>
+  <td class="right"><a href="#Page_311">311</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="chapter">LXVI.</td>
+  <td>A BUBBLE BROKEN,</td>
+  <td class="right"><a href="#Page_313">313</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="chapter">LXVII.</td>
+  <td>BOND AND DEED,</td>
+  <td class="right"><a href="#Page_317">317</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="chapter">LXVIII.</td>
+  <td>SIR RICHARD'S RESOLUTION,</td>
+  <td class="right"><a href="#Page_322">322</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="chapter">LXIX.</td>
+  <td>THE MEETING,</td>
+  <td class="right"><a href="#Page_326">326</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="chapter">LXX.</td>
+  <td>MR. LONGCLUSE PROPOSES,</td>
+  <td class="right"><a href="#Page_329">329</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="chapter">LXXI.</td>
+  <td>NIGHT,</td>
+  <td class="right"><a href="#Page_332">332</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="chapter">LXXII.</td>
+  <td>MEASURES,</td>
+  <td class="right"><a href="#Page_336">336</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="chapter">LXXIII.</td>
+  <td>AT THE BAR OF THE &ldquo;GUY OF WARWICK,&rdquo;</td>
+  <td class="right"><a href="#Page_341">341</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="chapter">LXXIV.</td>
+  <td>A LETTER,</td>
+  <td class="right"><a href="#Page_346">346</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="chapter">LXXV.</td>
+  <td>BLIGHT AND CHANGE,</td>
+  <td class="right"><a href="#Page_351">351</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="chapter">LXXVI.</td>
+  <td>PH&OElig;BE CHIFFINCH,</td>
+  <td class="right"><a href="#Page_356">356</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="chapter">LXXVII.</td>
+  <td>MORE NEWS OF PAUL DAVIES,</td>
+  <td class="right"><a href="#Page_360">360</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="chapter">LXXVIII.</td>
+  <td>THE CATACOMBS,</td>
+  <td class="right"><a href="#Page_364">364</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="chapter">LXXIX.</td>
+  <td>RESURRECTIONS,</td>
+  <td class="right"><a href="#Page_371">371</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="chapter">LXXX.</td>
+  <td>ANOTHER,</td>
+  <td class="right"><a href="#Page_376">376</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="chapter">LXXXI.</td>
+  <td>BROKEN,</td>
+  <td class="right"><a href="#Page_379">379</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="chapter">LXXXII.</td>
+  <td>DOPPELGANGER,</td>
+  <td class="right"><a href="#Page_384">384</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="chapter">LXXXIII.</td>
+  <td>A SHORT PARTING,</td>
+  <td class="right"><a href="#Page_388">388</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="chapter">LXXXIV.</td>
+  <td>AT MORTLAKE,</td>
+  <td class="right"><a href="#Page_393">393</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="chapter">LXXXV.</td>
+  <td>THE CRISIS,</td>
+  <td class="right"><a href="#Page_399">399</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="chapter">LXXXVI.</td>
+  <td>PURSUIT,</td>
+  <td class="right"><a href="#Page_406">406</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td class="chapter">LXXXVII.</td>
+  <td>CONCLUSION,</td>
+  <td class="right"><a href="#Page_412">412</a></td>
+</tr>
+</table>
+
+<div class="image-center chapter-beginning"><a class="pagenum" name="Page_1" title="1"> </a>
+<img src="images/ch01.png" width="441" height="84" alt=""/>
+</div>
+
+<p class="center" style="font-size: x-large; margin: 4em auto;">CHECKMATE.</p>
+
+<h2 class="no-break">CHAPTER I.<br/>
+<small>MORTLAKE HALL.</small></h2>
+
+<div><img class="drop-cap" src="images/drop_t.png" width="72" height="72" alt=""/></div>
+
+<p class="drop-cap"><span class="upper-case">There</span> stands about a mile and a half beyond
+Islington, unless it has come down within the last
+two years, a singular and grand old house. It
+belonged to the family of Arden, once distinguished
+in the Northumbrian counties. About fifty acres of ground,
+rich with noble clumps and masses of old timber, surround it;
+old-world fish-ponds, with swans sailing upon them, tall yew
+hedges, quincunxes, leaden fauns and goddesses, and other
+obsolete splendours surround it. It rises, tall, florid, built of
+Caen stone, with a palatial flight of steps, and something of the
+grace and dignity of the genius of Inigo Jones, to whom it is
+ascribed, with the shadows of ancestral trees and the stains of
+two centuries upon it, and a vague character of gloom and
+melancholy, not improved by some indications not actually of
+decay, but of something too like neglect.</p>
+
+<p>It is now evening, and a dusky glow envelopes the scene.
+The setting sun throws its level beams, through tall drawing-room
+windows, ruddily upon the Dutch tapestry on the opposite
+walls, and not unbecomingly lights up the little party assembled
+there.</p>
+
+<p>Good-natured, fat Lady May Penrose, in her bonnet, sips her
+tea and chats agreeably. Her carriage waits outside. You
+will ask who is that extremely beautiful girl who sits opposite,
+her large soft grey eyes gazing towards the western sky with a
+look of abstraction, too forgetful for a time of her company,
+<a class="pagenum" name="Page_2" title="2"> </a>
+leaning upon the slender hand she has placed under her cheek.
+How silken and golden-tinted the dark brown hair that grows so
+near her brows, making her forehead low, and marking with its
+broad line the beautiful oval of her face! Is there carmine
+anywhere to match her brilliant lips? And when, recollecting
+something to tell Lady May, she turns on a sudden, smiling,
+how soft and pretty the dimples, and how even the little row
+of pearls she discloses!</p>
+
+<p>This is Alice Arden, whose singularly handsome brother
+Richard, with some of her tints and outlines translated into
+masculine beauty, stands leaning on the back of a prie-dieu
+chair, and chatting gaily.</p>
+
+<p>But who is the thin, tall man&mdash;the only sinister figure in the
+group&mdash;with one hand in his breast, the other on a cabinet, as
+he leans against the wall? Who is that pale, thin-lipped man,
+&ldquo;with cadaverous aspect and broken beak,&rdquo; whose eyes never
+seem to light up, but maintain their dismal darkness while his
+pale lips smile? Those eyes are fixed on the pretty face of Alice
+Arden, as she talks to Lady May, with a strangely intense gaze.
+His eyebrows rise a little, like those of Mephistopheles, towards
+his temples, with an expression that is inflexibly sarcastic, and
+sometimes menacing. His jaw is slightly underhung, a
+formation which heightens the satirical effect of his smile,
+and, by contrast, marks the depression of his nose.</p>
+
+<p>There was at this time in London a Mr. Longcluse, an
+agreeable man, a convenient man, who had got a sort of footing
+in many houses, nobody exactly knew how. He had a knack of
+obliging people when they really wanted a trifling kindness, and
+another of holding fast his advantage, and, without seeming to
+push, or ever appearing to flatter, of maintaining the
+acquaintance he had once founded. He looked about eight-and-thirty:
+he was really older. He was gentlemanlike, clever,
+and rich; but not a soul of all the men who knew him had ever
+heard of him at school or college. About his birth, parentage,
+and education, about his &ldquo;life and adventures,&rdquo; he was dark.</p>
+
+<p>How were his smart acquaintance made? Oddly, as we shall
+learn when we know him a little better. It was a great pity
+that there were some odd things said about this very agreeable,
+obliging, and gentlemanlike person. It was a pity that more
+was not known about him. The man had enemies, no doubt,
+and from the sort of reserve that enveloped him their
+opportunity arose. But were there not about town hundreds
+of men, well enough accepted, about whose early days no one
+cared a pin, and everything was just as dark?</p>
+
+<p>Now Mr. Longcluse, with his pallid face, his flat nose, his
+sarcastic eyebrows, and thin-lipped smile, was overlooking this
+little company, his shoulder leaning against the frame that
+<a class="pagenum" name="Page_3" title="3"> </a>
+separated two pieces of the pretty Dutch tapestry which covered
+the walls.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;By-the-bye, Mr. Longcluse&mdash;you can tell me, for you always
+know everything,&rdquo; said Lady May&mdash;&ldquo;is there still any hope of
+that poor child's recovering&mdash;I mean the one in that dreadful
+murder in Thames Street, where the six poor little children were
+stabbed?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Longcluse smiled.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I'm so glad, Lady May, I can answer you upon good
+authority! I stopped to-day to ask Sir Edwin Dudley that very
+question through his carriage window, and he said that he had
+just been to the hospital to see the poor little thing, and that it
+was likely to do well.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I'm so glad! And what do they say can have been the
+motive of the murder?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Jealousy, they say; or else the man is mad.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I should not wonder. I'm sure I hope he is. But they
+should take care to put him under lock and key.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;So they will, rely on it; that's a matter of course.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I don't know how it is,&rdquo; continued Lady May, who was
+garrulous, &ldquo;that murders interest people so much, who ought
+to be simply shocked at them.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;We have a murder in our family, you know,&rdquo; said Richard
+Arden.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;That was poor Henry Arden&mdash;I know,&rdquo; she answered, lowering
+her voice and dropping her eyes, with a side glance at Alice,
+for she did not know how she might like to hear it talked of.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Oh, that happened when Alice was only five months old, I
+think,&rdquo; said Richard; and slipping into the chair beside Lady
+May, he laid his hand upon hers with a smile, and whispered,
+leaning towards her&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You are always so thoughtful; it is <em>so</em> nice of you!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>And this short speech ended, his eyes remained fixed for some
+seconds, with a glow of tender admiration, on those of fat Lady
+May, who simpered with effusion, and did not draw her hand
+away until she thought she saw Mr. Longcluse glance their way.</p>
+
+<p>It was quite true, all he said of Lady May. It would not be
+easy to find a simpler or more good-natured person. She was
+very rich also, and, it was said by people who love news and
+satire, had long been willing to share her gold and other chattels
+with handsome Richard Arden, who being but five-and-twenty,
+might very nearly have been her son.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I remember that horrible affair,&rdquo; said Mr. Longcluse, with
+a little shrug and a shake of his head. &ldquo;Where was I then&mdash;Paris
+or Vienna? Paris it was. I recollect it all now, for my
+purse was stolen by the very man who made his escape&mdash;Mace
+was his name; he was a sort of low man on the turf, I believe.
+<a class="pagenum" name="Page_4" title="4"> </a>
+I was very young then&mdash;somewhere about seventeen, I
+think.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You can't have been more, of course,&rdquo; said good-natured
+Lady May.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I should like very much some time to hear all about it,&rdquo;
+continued Mr. Longcluse.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;So you shall,&rdquo; said Richard, &ldquo;whenever you like.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Every old family has a murder, and a ghost, and a beauty
+also, though she does not always live and breathe, except in the
+canvas of Lely, or Kneller, or Reynolds: and they, you know,
+had roses and lilies to give away at discretion, in their paint-boxes,
+and were courtiers,&rdquo; remarked Mr. Longcluse, &ldquo;who
+dealt sometimes in the old-fashioned business of making
+compliments. <em>I</em> say happy the man who lives in those summers
+when the loveliness of some beautiful family culminates, and who
+may, at ever such a distance, gaze and worship.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>This ugly man spoke in a low tone, and his voice was rather
+sweet. He looked as he spoke at Miss Arden, from whom,
+indeed, his eyes did not often wander.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Very prettily said!&rdquo; applauded Lady May affably.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I forgot to ask you, Lady May,&rdquo; inquired Alice, cruelly, at
+this moment, &ldquo;how the pretty little Italian greyhound is that
+was so ill&mdash;better, I hope.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Ever so much&mdash;quite well almost. I'd have taken him out
+for a drive to-day, poor dear little Pepsie! but that I thought the
+sun just a little overpowering. Didn't you?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Perhaps a little.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Longcluse lowered his eyes as he leaned against the wall
+and sighed, with a pained smile, that even upon his plain, pallid
+face, was pathetic.</p>
+
+<p>Did proud Richard Arden perceive the devotion of the dubious
+Longcluse&mdash;undefined in position, in history, in origin, in
+character, in all things but in wealth? Of course he did,
+perfectly. But that wealth was said to be enormous. There
+were Jews, who ought to know, who said he was worth one
+million eight hundred thousand pounds, and that his annual
+income was considerably more than a hundred thousand pounds
+a year.</p>
+
+<p>Was a man like that to be dismissed without inquiry? Had he
+not found him good-natured and gentlemanlike? What about
+those stories circulated among Jews and croupiers? Enemies
+might affect to believe them, and quote the old saw, &ldquo;There is
+never smoke without fire;&rdquo; but dare one of them utter a word
+of the kind aloud? Did they stand the test of five minutes'
+inquiry, such even as he had given them? Had he found a particle
+of proof, of evidence, of suspicion? Not a spark. What man
+had ever escaped stories who was worth forging a lie about?</p>
+
+<p><a class="pagenum" name="Page_5" title="5"> </a>Here was a man worth more than a million. Why, if <em>he</em> let
+him slip through his fingers, some duchess would pounce on
+him for her daughter.</p>
+
+<p>It was well that Longcluse was really in love&mdash;well, perhaps,
+that he did not appreciate the social omnipotence of money.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Where is Sir Reginald at present?&rdquo; asked Lady May.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Not here, you may be sure,&rdquo; answered Richard. &ldquo;My
+father does not admit my visits, you know.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Really! And is that miserable quarrel kept up still?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Only too true. He is in France at present; at Vichy&mdash;ain't
+it Vichy?&rdquo; he said to Alice.</p>
+
+<p>But she, not choosing to talk, said simply, &ldquo;Yes&mdash;Vichy.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I'm going to take Alice into town again; she has promised
+to stay with me a little longer. And I think you neglect her a
+little, don't you? You ought to come and see her a little
+oftener,&rdquo; pleaded Lady May, in an undertone.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I only feared I was boring you all. Nothing, <em>you</em> know,
+would give me half so much pleasure,&rdquo; he answered.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Well, then, she'll expect your visits, mind.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>A little silence followed. Richard was vexed with his sister;
+she was, he thought, snubbing his friend Longcluse.</p>
+
+<p>Well, when once he had spoken his mind and disclosed his
+treasures, Richard flattered himself he had some influence;
+and did not Lady May swear by Mr. Longcluse? And was his
+father, the most despotic and violent of baronets, and very much
+dipt, likely to listen to sentimental twaddle pleading against a
+hundred thousand a year? So, Miss Alice, if you were disposed
+to talk nonsense, it was not very likely to be listened to,
+and sharp and short logic might ensue.</p>
+
+<p>How utterly unconscious of all this she sits there, thinking, I
+daresay, of quite another person!</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Longcluse was also for a moment in profound reverie;
+so was Richard Arden. The secrecy of thought is a pleasant
+privilege to the thinker&mdash;perhaps hardly less a boon to the person
+pondered upon.</p>
+
+<p>If each man's forehead could project its shadows and the
+light of his spirit shine through, and the confluence of figures
+and phantoms that cross and march behind it become visible,
+how that magic-lantern might appal good easy people!</p>
+
+<p>And now the ladies fell to talking and comparing notes about
+their guipure lacework.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;How charming yours looks, my dear, round that little
+table!&rdquo; exclaimed Lady May in a rapture. &ldquo;I'm sure I hope
+mine may turn out half as pretty. I wanted to compare; I'm
+not quite sure whether it is exactly the same pattern.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>And so on, until it was time for them to order their wings for
+town.</p>
+
+<p><a class="pagenum" name="Page_6" title="6"> </a>The gentlemen have business of their own to transact, or
+pleasures to pursue. Mr. Longcluse has his trap there, to carry
+them into town when their hour comes. They can only put the
+ladies into their places, and bid them good-bye, and exchange
+parting reminders and good-natured speeches.</p>
+
+<p>Pale Mr. Longcluse, as he stands on the steps, looks with
+his dark eyes after the disappearing carriage, and sighs deeply.
+He has forgotten all for the moment but one dream. Richard
+Arden wakens him, by laying his hand on his shoulder.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Come, Longcluse, let us have a cigar in the billiard-room,
+and a talk. I have a box of Manillas that I think you will say
+are delicious&mdash;that is, if you like them full-flavoured.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<div class="image-center chapter-end">
+<img src="images/ep01.png" width="216" height="112" alt=""/>
+</div>
+
+<div class="image-center chapter-beginning"><a class="pagenum" name="Page_7" title="7"> </a>
+<img src="images/ch02.png" width="466" height="125" alt=""/>
+</div>
+
+<h2 class="no-break">CHAPTER II.<br/>
+<small>MARTHA TANSEY.</small></h2>
+
+<div><img class="drop-cap" src="images/drop_b.png" width="73" height="73" alt=""/></div>
+
+<p class="drop-cap drop-wide"><span class="upper-case">&ldquo;By-the-bye</span>, Longcluse,&rdquo; said Richard, as they
+entered together the long tiled passage that leads
+to the billiard-room, &ldquo;you like pictures. There is
+one here, banished to the housekeeper's room,
+that they say is a Vandyck; we must have it cleaned and backed,
+and restored to its old place&mdash;but would you care to look at
+it?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Certainly, I should like extremely,&rdquo; said Mr. Longcluse.</p>
+
+<p>They were now at the door of the housekeeper's room, and
+Richard Arden knocked.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Come in,&rdquo; said the quavering voice of the old woman from
+within.</p>
+
+<p>Richard Arden opened the door wide. The misty rose-coloured
+light of the setting sun filled the room. From the wall
+right opposite, the pale portrait of Sir Thomas Arden, who fought
+for the king during the great Civil War, looked forth from his
+deep dingy frame full upon them, stern and melancholy; the
+misty beams touching the softer lights of his long hair and the
+gleam of his armour so happily, that the figure came out from
+its dark background, and seemed ready to step forth to meet
+them. As it happened, there was no one in the room but old
+Mrs. Tansey, the housekeeper, who received Richard Arden
+standing.</p>
+
+<p>From the threshold, Mr. Longcluse, lost in wonder at the
+noble picture, gazed on it, with the exclamation, almost a cry,
+&ldquo;Good heaven! what a noble work! I had no idea there could
+be such a thing in existence and so little known.&rdquo; And he
+stood for awhile in a rapture, gazing from the threshold on the
+portrait.</p>
+
+<p><a class="pagenum" name="Page_8" title="8"> </a>At sound of that voice, with a vague and terrible recognition,
+the housekeeper turned with a start towards the door, expecting,
+you'd have fancied from her face, the entrance of a
+ghost. There was a tremble in the voice with which she
+cried, &ldquo;Lord! what's that?&rdquo; a tremble in the hand extended
+towards the door, and a shake also in the pale frowning face,
+from which shone her glassy eyes.</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Longcluse stepped in, and the old woman's gaze became,
+as he did so, more shrinking and intense. When he saw her he
+recoiled, as a man might who had all but trod upon a snake;
+and these two people gazed at one another with a strange, uncertain
+scowl.</p>
+
+<p>In Mr. Longcluse's case, this dismal caprice of countenance
+did not last beyond a second or two. Richard Arden, as he
+turned his eyes from the picture to say a word to his companion,
+saw it for a moment, and it faded from his features&mdash;saw it, and
+the darkened countenance of the old housekeeper, with a
+momentary shock. He glanced from one to the other quickly,
+with a look of unconscious surprise. That look instantly recalled
+Mr. Longcluse, who, laying his hand on Richard Arden's
+arm, said, with a laugh&mdash;&ldquo;I do believe I'm the most nervous
+man in the world.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You don't find the room too hot?&rdquo; said Richard, inwardly
+ruminating upon the strange looks he had just seen exchanged.
+&ldquo;Mrs. Tansey keeps a fire all the year round&mdash;don't you,
+Martha?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Martha did not answer, nor seem to hear; she pressed her
+lean hand, instead, to her heart, and drew back to a sofa and
+sat down, muttering, &ldquo;My God, lighten our darkness, we
+beseech thee!&rdquo; and she looked as if she were on the point of
+fainting.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;That is a true Vandyck,&rdquo; said Mr. Longcluse, who was now
+again looking stedfastly at the picture. &ldquo;It deserves to rank
+among his finest portraits. I have never seen anything of his
+more forcible. You really ought not to leave it here, and in this
+state.&rdquo; He walked over and raised the lower end of the frame
+gently from the wall. &ldquo;Yes, just as you said, it wants to be
+backed. That portrait would not stand a shake, I can tell you.
+The canvas is perfectly rotten, and the paint&mdash;if you stand here
+you'll see&mdash;is ready to flake off. It is an awful pity. You
+shouldn't leave it in such danger.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;No,&rdquo; said Richard, who was looking at the old woman. &ldquo;I
+don't think Martha's well&mdash;will you excuse me for a moment?&rdquo;
+And he was at the housekeeper's side. &ldquo;What's the matter,
+Martha?&rdquo; he said kindly. &ldquo;Are you ill?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Very bad, Sir. I beg your pardon for sitting, but I could
+not help; and the gentleman will excuse me.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p><a class="pagenum" name="Page_9" title="9"> </a>&ldquo;Of course&mdash;but what's the matter?&rdquo; said Richard.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;A sudden fright like, Sir. I'm all over on a tremble,&rdquo; she
+quavered.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;See how exquisitely that hand is painted,&rdquo; continued Mr.
+Longcluse, pursuing his criticism, &ldquo;and the art with which the
+lights are managed. It is a wonderful picture. It makes one
+positively angry to see it in that state, and anywhere but in the
+most conspicuous and honourable place. If I owned that
+picture, I should never be tired showing it. I should have
+it where everyone who came into my house should see it;
+and I should watch every crack and blur on its surface, as
+I should the symptoms of a dying child, or the looks of the
+mistress of my heart. Now just look at this. Where is he?
+Oh!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I beg your pardon, a thousand times, but I find my old friend
+Martha feels a little faint and ill,&rdquo; said Richard.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Dear me! I hope she's better,&rdquo; said Mr. Longcluse,
+approaching with solicitude. &ldquo;Can I be of any use? Shall I
+touch the bell?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I'm better, Sir, I thank you; I'm much better,&rdquo; said the old
+woman. &ldquo;It won't signify nothing, only&mdash;&rdquo; She was looking hard
+again at Mr. Longcluse, who now seemed perfectly at his ease,
+and showed in his countenance nothing but the commiseration
+befitting the occasion. &ldquo;A sort of a weakness&mdash;a fright like&mdash;and
+I can't think, quite, what came over me.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Don't you think a glass of wine might do her good?&rdquo; asked
+Mr. Longcluse.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Thanks, Sir, I don't drink it. Oh, lighten our darkness,
+we beseech thee! Good Lord, a' mercy on us! I take them
+drops, hartshorn and valerian, on a little water, when I feel
+nervous like. I don't know when I was took wi' t' creepins
+before.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You look better,&rdquo; said Richard.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I'm quite right again, Sir,&rdquo; she said, with a sigh. She had
+taken her &ldquo;drops,&rdquo; and seemed restored.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Hadn't you better have one of the maids with you? I'm
+going now; I'll send some one,&rdquo; he said. &ldquo;You must get all
+right, Martha. It pains me to see you ill. You're a very old
+friend, remember. You must be all right again; and, if you
+like, we'll have the doctor out, from town.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>He said this, holding her thin old hand very kindly, for
+he was by no means without good-nature. So sending the
+promised attendant, he and Longcluse proceeded to the
+billiard-room, where, having got the lamps lighted, they began
+to enjoy their smoke. Each, I fancy, was thinking of the
+little incident in the housekeeper's room. There was a long
+silence.</p>
+
+<p><a class="pagenum" name="Page_10" title="10"> </a>&ldquo;Poor old Tansey! She looked awfully ill,&rdquo; said Richard
+Arden at last.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;By Jove! she did. Is that her name? She rather
+frightened me,&rdquo; said Mr. Longcluse. &ldquo;I thought we had
+stumbled on a mad woman&mdash;she stared so. Has she ever had
+any kind of fit, poor thing?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;No. She grumbles a good deal, but I really think she's a
+healthy old woman enough. She says she was frightened.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;We came in too suddenly, perhaps?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;No, that wasn't it, for I knocked first,&rdquo; said Arden.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Ah, yes, so you did. I only know she frightened me. I
+really thought she was out of her mind, and that she was
+going to stick me with a knife, perhaps,&rdquo; said Mr. Longcluse,
+with a little laugh and a shrug.</p>
+
+<p>Arden laughed, and puffed away at his cigar till he had it
+in a glow again. Was this explanation of what he had seen
+in Longcluse's countenance&mdash;a picture presented but for a
+fraction of a second, but thenceforward ineffaceable&mdash;quite
+satisfactory?</p>
+
+<p>In a short time Mr. Longcluse asked whether he could have
+a little brandy and water, which accordingly was furnished.
+In his first glass there was a great deal of brandy, and very
+little water indeed; and his second, sipped more at his leisure,
+was but little more diluted. A very faint flush tinged his pallid
+cheeks.</p>
+
+<p>Richard Arden was, by this time, thinking of his own debts
+and ill-luck, and at last he said, &ldquo;I wonder what the art of
+getting on in the world is. Is it communicable? or is it no art
+at all, but a simple run of luck?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Longcluse smiled scornfully. &ldquo;There are men who
+have immense faith in themselves,&rdquo; said he, &ldquo;who have indomitable
+will, and who are provided with craft and pliancy
+for any situation. Those men are giants from the first to the
+last hour of action, unless, as happened to Napoleon, success
+enervates them. In the cradle, they strangle serpents; blind,
+they pull down palaces; old as Dandolo, they burn fleets and
+capture cities. It is only when they have taken to bragging
+that the <i lang="la" xml:lang="la">lues Napoleonica</i> has set in. Now I have been, in a
+sense, a successful man&mdash;I am worth some money. If I were
+the sort of man I describe, I should be worth, if I cared for it,
+ten times what I have in as many years. But I don't care to
+confess I made my money by flukes. If, having no tenderness,
+you have two attributes&mdash;profound cunning and perfect
+audacity&mdash;nothing can keep you back. I'm a common-place
+man, I say; but I know what constitutes power. Life is a
+battle, and the general's qualities win.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I have not got the general's qualities, I think; and I know
+<a class="pagenum" name="Page_11" title="11"> </a>
+I haven't luck,&rdquo; said Arden; &ldquo;so for my part I may as well
+drift, with as little trouble as may be, wherever the current
+drives. Happiness is not for all men.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Happiness is for <em>no</em> man,&rdquo; said Mr. Longcluse. And a
+little silence followed. &ldquo;Now suppose a fellow has got more
+money than ever he dreamed of,&rdquo; he resumed, &ldquo;and finds
+money, after all, not quite what he fancied, and that he has
+come to long for a prize quite distinct and infinitely more
+precious; so that he finds, at last, that he never can be happy
+for an hour without it, and yet, for all his longing and his
+pains, sees it is unattainable as that star.&rdquo; (He pointed to
+a planet that shone down through the skylight.) &ldquo;Is that
+man happy? He carries with him, go where he may,
+an aching heart, the pangs of jealousy and despair, and the
+longing of the damned for Paradise. That is <em>my</em> miserable
+case.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Richard Arden laughed, as he lighted his second cigar.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Well, if that's your case, you can't be one of those giants
+you described just now. Women are not the obdurate and
+cruel creatures you fancy. They are proud, and vain, and unforgiving;
+but the misery and the perseverance of a lover
+constitute a worship that first flatters and then wins them. Remember
+this, a woman finds it very hard to give up a
+worshipper, except for another. Now why should you despair?
+You are a gentleman, you are a clever fellow, an agreeable
+fellow; you are what is accounted a young man still, and you
+can make your wife rich. They all like that. It is not avarice,
+but pride. I don't know the young lady, but I see no good
+reason why you should fail.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I wish, Arden, I dare tell you all; but some day I'll tell you
+more.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;The only thing is<span style="white-space: nowrap;">&mdash;&mdash;</span> You'll not mind my telling you, as
+you have been so frank with me?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Pray say whatever you think. I shall be ever so much
+obliged. I forget so many things about English manners and
+ways of thinking&mdash;I have lived so very much abroad. Should
+I be put up for a club?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Well, I should not mind a club just yet, till you know
+more people&mdash;quite time enough. But you must manage
+better. Why should those Jew fellows, and other people, who
+don't hold, and never can, a position the least like yours, be
+among your acquaintance? You must make it a rule to drop
+all objectionable persons, and know none but good people.
+Of course, when you are strong enough it doesn't so much
+matter, provided you keep them at arm's length. But you
+passed your younger days abroad, as you say, and not being
+yet so well known here, you will have to be particular&mdash;don't
+<a class="pagenum" name="Page_12" title="12"> </a>
+you see? A man is so much judged by his acquaintance; and,
+in fact, it is essential.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;A thousand thanks for any hints that strike you,&rdquo; said
+Longcluse <ins title="good humouredly">good-humouredly</ins>.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;They sound frivolous; but these trifles have immense weight
+with women,&rdquo; said Arden. &ldquo;By Jove!&rdquo; he added, glancing at
+his watch, &ldquo;we shall be late. Your trap is at the door&mdash;suppose
+we go?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<div class="image-center chapter-end">
+<img src="images/ep01.png" width="216" height="112" alt=""/>
+</div>
+
+<div class="image-center chapter-beginning"><a class="pagenum" name="Page_13" title="13"> </a>
+<img src="images/ch03.png" width="472" height="107" alt=""/>
+</div>
+
+<h2 class="no-break">CHAPTER III.<br/>
+<small>MR. LONGCLUSE OPENS HIS HEART.</small></h2>
+
+<div><img class="drop-cap" src="images/drop_t.png" width="72" height="72" alt=""/></div>
+
+<p class="drop-cap"><span class="upper-case">The</span> old housekeeper had drawn near her window, and
+stood close to the pane, through which she looked
+out upon the star-lit night. The stars shine down
+over the foliage of huge old trees. Dim as shadows
+stand the horse and tax-cart that await Mr. Longcluse and
+Richard Arden, who now at length appear. The groom fixes
+the lamps, one of which shines full on Mr. Longcluse's peculiar
+face.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Ay&mdash;the voice; I could a' sworn to that,&rdquo; she muttered.
+&ldquo;It went through me like a scythe. But that's a strange face;
+and yet there's summat in it, just a hint like, to call my
+thoughts out a-seeking up and down, and to and fro; and
+'twill not let me rest until I come to find the truth. Mace?
+No, no. Langly? Not he. Yet 'twas summat <em>that night</em>, I
+think&mdash;summat awful. And who <em>was</em> there? No one. Lighten
+our darkness, we beseech thee, O Lord! for my heart is sore
+troubled.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Up jumped the groom. Mr. Longcluse had the reins in his
+hand, and he and his companion passed swiftly by the window,
+and the flash of the lamps crossed the panelled walls of the
+housekeeper's room. The light danced wildly from corner to
+corner of the wainscot, accompanied by the shadows of two
+geraniums in bow-pots on the window-stool. The lamps flew
+by, and she still stood there, with the palsied shake of her
+head and hand, looking out into the darkness, in rumination.</p>
+
+<p>Arden and Longcluse glided through the night air in silence,
+under the mighty old trees that had witnessed generations of
+Ardens, down the darker, narrow road, and by the faded old
+inn, once famous in those regions as the &ldquo;Guy of Warwick,&rdquo;
+<a class="pagenum" name="Page_14" title="14"> </a>
+representing still on its board, in tarnished gold and colours,
+that redoubted champion, with a boar's head on the point of
+his sword, and a grotesque lion winding itself fawningly about
+his horse's legs.</p>
+
+<p>As they passed swiftly along this smooth and deserted road,
+Longcluse spoke. <i lang="la" xml:lang="la">Aperit præcordia vinum.</i> In his brandy
+and water he had not spared alcohol, and the quantity was
+considerable.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I have lots of money, Arden, and I can talk to people, as
+you say,&rdquo; he suddenly said, as if Richard Arden had spoken
+but a moment before; &ldquo;but, on the whole, is there on earth a
+more miserable dog than I? There are things that trouble me
+that would make you laugh; there are others that would, if I
+dare tell them, make you sigh. Soon I shall be able; soon
+you shall know all. I'm not a bad fellow. I know how to give
+away money, and, what is harder to bestow on others, my time
+and labour. But who to look at me would believe it? I'm not
+a worse fellow than Penruddock. I can cry for pity and do a
+kind act like him; but I look in my glass, and I also feel like
+him, &lsquo;the mark of Cain&rsquo; is on me&mdash;cruelty in my face. Why
+should Nature write on some men's faces such libels on their
+characters? Then here's another thing to make you laugh&mdash;you,
+a handsome fellow, to whom beauty belongs, I say, by
+right of birth&mdash;it would make me laugh also if I were not, as I
+am, forced every hour I live to count up, in agonies of hope
+and terror, my chances in that enterprise in which all my
+happiness for life is staked so wildly. Common ugliness does
+not matter, it is got over. But such a face as mine! Come,
+come! you are too good-natured to say. I'm not asking for
+consolation; I am only summing up my curses.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You make too much of these. Lady May thinks your face,
+she says, very interesting&mdash;upon my honour, she does.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Oh, heaven!&rdquo; exclaimed Mr. Longcluse, with a shrug and
+a laugh.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;And what is more to the purpose (will you forgive my
+reporting all this&mdash;you won't mind?), some young lady friends
+of hers who were by said, I assure you, that you had so
+much expression, and that your features were extremely
+refined.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;It won't do, Arden; you are too good-natured,&rdquo; said he,
+laughing more bitterly.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I should much rather be as I am, if I were you, than be
+gifted with vulgar beauty&mdash;plump, pink and white, with black
+beady eyes, and all that,&rdquo; said Arden.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;But the heaviest curse upon me is that which, perhaps, you
+do not suspect&mdash;the curse of&mdash;secrecy.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Oh, really!&rdquo; said Arden, laughing, as if he had thought up
+<a class="pagenum" name="Page_15" title="15"> </a>
+to then that Mr. Longcluse's history was as well known as that
+of the ex-Emperor Napoleon.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I don't say that I shall come out like the enchanted hero in
+a fairy tale, and change in a moment from a beast into a prince;
+but I am something better than I seem. In a short time, if you
+cared to be bored with it, I shall have a great deal to tell you.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>There followed here a silence of two or three minutes, and
+then, on a sudden, pathetically, Mr. Longcluse broke forth&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;What has a fellow like me to do with love? and less than
+beloved, can I ever be happy? I know something of the world&mdash;not
+of this London world, where I live less than I seem to do,
+and into which I came too late ever to understand it thoroughly&mdash;I
+know something of a greater world, and human nature is the
+same everywhere. You talk of a girl's pride inducing her to marry
+a man for the sake of his riches. Could I possess my beloved
+on those terms? I would rather place a pistol in my mouth, and
+blow my skull off. Arden, I'm unhappy; I'm the most miserable
+dog alive.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Come, Longcluse, that's all nonsense. Beauty is no advantage
+to a man. The being agreeable is an immense one. But
+success is what women worship, and if, in addition to that, you
+possess wealth&mdash;not, as I said, that they are sordid, but only
+vain-glorious&mdash;you become very nearly irresistible. Now <em>you</em>
+are agreeable, successful and wealthy&mdash;you must see what
+follows.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I'm out of spirits,&rdquo; said Longcluse, and relapsed into silence,
+with a great sigh.</p>
+
+<p>By this time they had got within the lamps, and were threading
+streets, and rapidly approaching their destination. Five
+minutes more, and these gentlemen had entered a vast room, in
+the centre of which stood a billiard-table, with benches rising
+tier above tier to the walls, and a gallery running round the
+building above them, brilliantly lighted, as such places are, and
+already crowded with all kinds of people. There is going to be
+a great match of a &ldquo;thousand up&rdquo; played between Bill Hood
+and Bob Markham. The betting has been unusually high; it is
+still going on. The play won't begin for nearly half an hour.
+The &ldquo;admirers of the game&rdquo; have mustered in great force and
+variety. There are young peers, with sixty thousand a year, and
+there are gentlemen who live by their billiards. There are, for
+once in a way, grave persons, bankers, and counsel learned in
+the law; there are Jews and a sprinkling of foreigners; and
+there are members of Parliament and members of the swell
+mob.</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Longcluse has a good deal to think about this night. He
+<em>is</em> out of spirits. Richard Arden is no longer with him, having
+picked up a friend or two in the room. Longcluse, with folded
+<a class="pagenum" name="Page_16" title="16"> </a>
+arms, and his shoulders against the wall, is in a profound reverie,
+his dark eyes for the time lowered to the floor, beside the point
+of his French boot. <em>There</em> unfold themselves beneath him
+picture after picture, the scenes of many a year ago. Looking
+down, there creeps over him an old horror, a supernatural
+disgust, and he sees in the dark a pair of wide, white eyes,
+staring up at him in an agony of terror, and a shrill yell, piercing
+a distance of many years, makes him shake his ears with a sudden
+chill. Is this the witches' Sabbath of our pale Mephistopheles&mdash;his
+night of goblins? He raised his eyes, and they met those of a
+person whom he had not seen for a very long time&mdash;a third part
+of his whole life. The two pairs of eyes, at nearly half across
+the room, have met, and for a moment fixed. The stranger
+smiles and nods. Mr. Longcluse does neither. He affects now
+to be looking over the stranger's shoulder at some more
+distant object. There is a strange chill and commotion at
+his heart.</p>
+
+<div class="image-center chapter-end">
+<img src="images/ep03.png" width="197" height="121" alt=""/>
+</div>
+
+<div class="image-center chapter-beginning"><a class="pagenum" name="Page_17" title="17"> </a>
+<img src="images/ch04.png" width="464" height="79" alt=""/>
+</div>
+
+<h2 class="no-break">CHAPTER IV.<br/>
+<small>MONSIEUR LEBAS.</small></h2>
+
+<div><img class="drop-cap" src="images/drop_m.png" width="72" height="73" alt=""/></div>
+
+<p class="drop-cap drop-wide"><span class="upper-case">Mr. Longcluse</span> leaned still with folded arms, and
+his shoulder to the wall. The stranger, smiling and
+fussy, was making his way to him. There is nothing
+in this man's appearance to associate him with tragic
+incident or emotion of any kind. He is plainly a foreigner. He
+is short, fat, middle-aged, with a round fat face, radiant with
+good humour and good-natured enjoyment. His dress is cut in
+the somewhat grotesque style of a low French tailor. It is not
+very new, and has some spots of grease upon it. Mr. Longcluse
+perceives that he is now making his way towards him.
+Longcluse for a moment thought of making his escape by the
+door, which was close to him; but he reflected, &ldquo;He is about
+the most innocent and good-natured soul on earth, and why
+should I seem to avoid him? Better, if he's looking for me, to
+let him find me, and say his say.&rdquo; So Longcluse looked another
+way, his arms still folded, and his shoulders against the wall as
+before.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Ah, ha! Monsieur is thinking profoundly,&rdquo; said a gay voice
+in French. &ldquo;Ah, ha, ha, ha! you are surprised, Sir, to see me
+here. So am I, my faith! I saw you. I never forget a face.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Nor a friend, Lebas. Who could have imagined anything to
+bring you to London?&rdquo; answered Longcluse, in the same
+language, shaking him warmly by the hand, and smiling down
+on the little man. &ldquo;I shall never forget your kindness. I think
+I should have died in that <em>illness</em> but for you. How can I ever
+thank you half enough?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;And the grand secret&mdash;the political difficulty&mdash;Monsieur
+found it well evaded,&rdquo; he said, mysteriously touching his upper
+lip with two fingers.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Not all quiet yet. I suppose you thought I was in Vienna?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p><a class="pagenum" name="Page_18" title="18"> </a>&ldquo;Eh? well, yes&mdash;so I did,&rdquo; answered Lebas, with a shrug.
+&ldquo;But perhaps you think this place safer.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Hush! You'll come to me to-morrow. I'll tell you where
+to find me before we part, and you'll bring your portmanteau and
+stay with me while you remain in London, and the longer the
+better.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Monsieur is too kind, a great deal; but I am staying for my
+visit to London with my brother-in-law, Gabriel Laroque, the
+watchmaker. He lives on the Hill of Ludgate, and he would be
+offended if I were to reside anywhere but in his house while I
+stay. But if Monsieur would be so good as to permit me to
+call<span style="white-space: nowrap;">&mdash;&mdash;</span>&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You must come and dine with me to-morrow; I have a box
+for the opera. You love music, or you are not the Pierre
+Lebas whom I remember sitting with his violin at an open
+window. So come early, come before six; I have ever so much
+to ask you. And what has brought you to London?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;A very little business and a great deal of pleasure; but all
+in a week,&rdquo; said the little man, with a shrug and a hearty laugh.
+&ldquo;I have come over here about some little things like that.&rdquo; He
+smiled archly as he produced from his waistcoat pocket a little
+flat box with a glass top, and shook something in it. &ldquo;Commerce,
+you see. I have to see two or three more of the London
+people, and then my business will have terminated, and nothing
+remain for the rest of the week but pleasure&mdash;ha, ha!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You left all at home well, I hope&mdash;children?&rdquo; He was going
+to say &ldquo;Madame,&rdquo; but a good many years had passed.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I have seven children. Monsieur will remember two. Three
+are by my first marriage, four by my second, and all enjoy the
+very best health. Three are very young&mdash;three, two, one year
+old; and they say a fourth is not impossible very soon,&rdquo; he
+added archly.</p>
+
+<p>Longcluse laughed kindly, and laid his hand upon his
+shoulder.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You must take charge of a little present for each from me,
+and one for Madame. And the old business still flourishes?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;A thousand thanks! yes, the business is the same&mdash;the file,
+the chisel, and knife.&rdquo; And he made a corresponding movement
+of his hand as he mentioned each instrument.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;<em>Hush!</em>&rdquo; said Longcluse, smiling, so that no one who did not
+hear him would have supposed there was so much cautious emphasis
+in the word. &ldquo;My good friend, remember there are
+details we talk of, you and I together, that are not to be mentioned
+so suitably in a place like this,&rdquo; and he pressed his
+hand on his wrist, and shook it gently.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;A thousand pardons! I am, I know, too careless, and let my
+tongue too often run before my caution. My wife, she says,
+<a class="pagenum" name="Page_19" title="19"> </a>
+&lsquo;You can't wash your shirt but you must tell the world.&rsquo; It is
+my weakness truly. She is a woman of extraordinary penetration.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Longcluse glanced from the corners of his eyes about the
+room. Perhaps he wished to ascertain whether his talk with
+this man, whom you would have taken to be little above the
+level of a French mechanic, had excited anyone's attention. But
+there was nothing to make him think so.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Now, Pierre, my friend, you must win some money upon
+this match&mdash;do you see? And you won't deny me the pleasure
+of putting down your stake for you; and, if you win, you shall
+buy something pretty for Madame&mdash;and, win or lose, I shall
+think it friendly of you after so many years, and like you the
+better.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Monsieur is too good,&rdquo; he said with effusion.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Now look. Do you see that fat Jew over there on the front
+bench&mdash;you can't mistake him&mdash;with the velvet waistcoat all in
+wrinkles, and the enormous lips, who talks to every second
+person who passes?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I see perfectly, Monsieur.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;He is betting three to one upon Markham. You must take
+his offer, and back Hood. I'm told <em>he'll</em> win. Here are ten
+pounds, you may as well make them thirty. Don't say a word.
+Our English custom is to <em>tip</em>, as we say, our friend's sons at
+school, and to make presents to everybody, as often as we like.
+Now there&mdash;not a word.&rdquo; He quietly slipped into his hand a
+little rouleau of ten pounds in gold. &ldquo;If you say one word you
+wound me,&rdquo; he continued. &ldquo;But, good Heaven! my dear friend,
+haven't you a breast-pocket?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;No, Monsieur; but this is quite safe. I was paid, only five
+minutes before I came here, fifteen pounds in gold, a cheque of
+forty-four pounds, and<span style="white-space: nowrap;">&mdash;&mdash;</span>&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Be silent. You may be overheard. Speak here in a very
+low tone, as I do. And do you mean to tell me that you carry
+all that money in your coat pocket?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;But in a pocket-book, Monsieur.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;All the more convenient for the <i lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">chevalier d'industrie</i>,&rdquo; said
+Longcluse. &ldquo;Stop. Pray don't produce it; your fate is, perhaps,
+sealed if you do. There are gentlemen in this room who
+would hustle and rob you in the crowd as you get out; or, failing
+that, who, seeing that you are a stranger, would follow and
+murder you in the streets, for the sake of a twentieth part of that
+sum.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Gabriel thought there would be none here but men distinguished,&rdquo;
+said Lebas, in some consternation.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Distinguished by the special attention of the police, some of
+them,&rdquo; said Longcluse.</p>
+
+<p><a class="pagenum" name="Page_20" title="20"> </a>&ldquo;Hé! that is very true,&rdquo; said Monsieur Lebas&mdash;&ldquo;very true, I
+am sure of it. See you that man there, Monsieur? Regard him
+for a moment. The tall man, who leans with his shoulder to
+the metal pillar of the gallery. My faith! he has observed my
+steps and followed me. I thought he was a spy. But my friend
+he says &lsquo;No, that is a man of bad character, dismissed for bad
+practices from the police.&rsquo; Aha! he has watched me sideways,
+with the corner of his eye. I will watch him with the corner of
+mine&mdash;ha, ha!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;It proves, at all events, Lebas, that there are people here
+other than gentlemen and men of honest lives,&rdquo; said Longcluse.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;But,&rdquo; said Lebas, brightening a little, &ldquo;I have this weapon,&rdquo;
+producing a dagger from the same pocket.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Put it back this instant. Worse and worse, my good friend.
+Don't you know that just now there is a police activity respecting
+foreigners, and that two have been arrested only yesterday
+on no charge but that of having weapons about their persons?
+I don't know what the devil you had best do.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I can return to the Hill of Ludgate&mdash;eh?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Pity to lose the game; they won't let you back again,&rdquo; said
+Longcluse.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;What shall I do?&rdquo; said Lebas, keeping his hand now in his
+pocket on his treasure.</p>
+
+<p>Longcluse rubbed the tip of his finger a little over his eyebrow,
+thinking.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Listen to me,&rdquo; said Longcluse, suddenly. &ldquo;Is your brother-in-law
+here?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;No, Monsieur.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Well, you have some London friend in the room, haven't
+you?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;One&mdash;yes.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Only be sure he is one whom you can trust, and who has a
+safe pocket.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Oh, yes, Monsieur, entirely! and I saw him place his purse
+so,&rdquo; he said, touching his coat, over his heart, with his fingers.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Well, now, you can't manage it here, under the gaze of the
+people; but&mdash;<em>where</em> is best? Yes&mdash;you see those two doors at
+opposite sides in the wall, at the far end of the room? They
+open into two parallel corridors leading to the hall, and a little
+way down there is a cross passage, in the middle of which is a
+door opening into a smoking-room. That room will be deserted
+now, and there, unseen, you can place your money and dagger
+in his charge.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Ah, thank you a hundred thousand times, Monsieur!&rdquo; answered
+Lebas. &ldquo;I shall be writing to the Baron van Boeren
+to-morrow, and I will tell him I have met Monsieur.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Don't mind; how is the baron?&rdquo; asked Longcluse.</p>
+
+<p><a class="pagenum" name="Page_21" title="21"> </a>&ldquo;Very well. Beginning to be not so young, you know, and
+thinking of retiring. I will tell him his work has succeeded.
+If he demolishes, he also secures. If he sometimes sheds
+blood<span style="white-space: nowrap;">&mdash;&mdash;</span>&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;<em>Hush!</em>&rdquo; whispered Longcluse, sternly.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;There is no one,&rdquo; murmured little Lebas, looking round, but
+dropping his voice to a whisper. &ldquo;He also saves a neck sometimes
+from the blade of the guillotine.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Longcluse frowned, a little embarrassed. Lebas smiled archly.
+In a moment Longcluse's impatient frown broke into a mysterious
+smile that responded.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;May I say one word more, and make one request of Monsieur,
+which I hope he will not think very impertinent?&rdquo; asked
+Monsieur Lebas, who had just been on the point of taking his
+leave.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;It mayn't be in my power to grant it; but you can't be what
+you say&mdash;I am too much obliged to you&mdash;so speak quite freely,&rdquo;
+said Longcluse.</p>
+
+<p>So they talked a little more and parted, and Monsieur Lebas
+went on his way.</p>
+
+<div class="image-center chapter-end">
+<img src="images/ep04.png" width="232" height="128" alt=""/>
+</div>
+
+<div class="image-center chapter-beginning"><a class="pagenum" name="Page_22" title="22"> </a>
+<img src="images/ch02.png" width="466" height="125" alt=""/>
+</div>
+
+<h2 class="no-break">CHAPTER V.<br/>
+<small>A CATASTROPHE.</small></h2>
+
+<div><img class="drop-cap" src="images/drop_t.png" width="72" height="72" alt=""/></div>
+
+<p class="drop-cap"><span class="upper-case">The</span> play has commenced. Longcluse, who likes and
+understands the game, sitting beside Richard Arden,
+is all eye. He is intensely eager and delighted. He
+joins modestly in the clapping that now and then
+follows a stroke of extraordinary brilliancy. Now and then he
+whispers a criticism in Arden's ear. There are many vicissitudes
+in the game. The players have entered on the third hundred,
+and still &ldquo;doubtful it stood.&rdquo; The excitement is extraordinary.
+The assembly is as hushed as if it were listening to a
+sermon, and, I am afraid, more attentive. Now, on a sudden,
+Hood scores a hundred and sixty-eight points in a single break.
+A burst of prolonged applause follows, and, during the clapping,
+in which he had at first joined, Longcluse says to Arden,&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I can't tell you how that run of Hood's delights me. I saw
+a poor little friend of mine here before the play began&mdash;I had
+not seen him since I was little more than a boy&mdash;a Frenchman,
+a good-natured little soul, and I advised him to back Hood, and
+I have been trembling up to this moment. But I think he's safe
+now to win. Markham can't score this time. If he's in &lsquo;Queer
+Street,&rsquo; as they whisper round the room, you'll find he'll either
+give a simple miss, or put himself into the pocket.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Well, I'm sure I hope your friend will win, because it will
+put three hundred and eighty pounds into my pocket,&rdquo; said
+Richard Arden.</p>
+
+<p>And now silence was called, and the building became, in a
+moment, hushed as a cathedral before the anthem; and Markham
+knocked his own ball into the pocket as Longcluse had
+predicted.</p>
+
+<p>On sped the game, and at last Hood scored a thousand, and
+<a class="pagenum" name="Page_23" title="23"> </a>
+won the match, greeted by an uproar of applause that, now being
+no longer restrained, lasted for nearly five minutes. The assemblage
+had, by this time, descended from the benches, and
+crowded the floor in clusters, discussing the play or settling
+bets. The people in the gallery were pouring down by the four
+staircases, and adding to the crowd and buzz.</p>
+
+<p>Suddenly there is a sort of excitement perceptible of a new
+kind&mdash;a gathering and pressure of men about one of the doors
+at the far corner of the room. Men are looking back and
+beckoning to their companions; others are shouldering forward
+as strenuously as they can. What is it&mdash;any dispute about the
+score?&mdash;a pair of men boxing in the passage?</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;No suspicion of fire?&rdquo; the men at this near end exclaim,
+and sniff over their shoulders, and look about them, and move
+toward the point where the crowd is thickening, not knowing
+what to make of the matter. But soon there runs a rumour
+about the room&mdash;&ldquo;a man has just been found murdered in a room
+outside,&rdquo; and the crowd now press forward more energetically to
+the point of attraction.</p>
+
+<p>In the cross-passage which connects the two corridors, as
+Mr. Longcluse described, there is an awful crush, and next to no
+light. A single jet of gas burns in the smoking room, where the
+pressure of the crowd is not quite so much felt. There are two
+policemen in that chamber, in the ordinary uniform of the force,
+and three detectives in plain clothes, one supporting a corpse
+already stiffening, in a sitting posture, as it was found, in a far
+angle of the room, on the bench to your left as you look in. All
+the people are looking up the room. You can see nothing but
+hats, and backs of heads, and shoulders. There is a ceaseless
+buzz and clack of talk and conjecture. Even the policemen are
+looking, as the rest do, at the body. The man who has mounted
+on the chair near the door, with the other beside him, who has
+one foot on the rung and another on the seat, and an arm round
+the first gentleman's neck, although he has not the honour of
+his acquaintance, to support himself, can see, over the others'
+heads, the one silent face which looks back towards the door,
+upon so many gaping, and staring, and gabbling ones. The
+light is faint. It has occurred to no one to light the gas lamps
+in the centre. But that forlorn face is distinct enough. Fixed
+and leaden it is, with the chin a little raised. The eyes are
+wide open, with a deep and awful gaze; the mouth slightly distorted
+with what the doctors call &ldquo;a convulsive smile,&rdquo; which
+shows the teeth a little, and has an odd, wincing look.</p>
+
+<p>As I live, it is the little Frenchman, Pierre Lebas, who was
+talking so gaily to-night with Mr. Longcluse!</p>
+
+<p>The ebony haft of a dagger, sticking straight out, shows where
+the hand of the assassin planted the last stab of four, through
+<a class="pagenum" name="Page_24" title="24"> </a>
+his black satin waistcoat, embroidered with green leaves, red
+strawberries, and yellow flowers, which, I suppose, was one of
+the finest articles in the little wardrobe that Madame Lebas
+packed up for his holiday. It is not worth much now. It has
+four distinct cuts, as I have said, on the left side, right through
+it, and is soaked in blood.</p>
+
+<p>His pockets have been rifled. The police have found nothing
+in them but a red pocket-handkerchief and a papier-maché
+snuff-box. If that dumb mouth could speak but fifty words,
+what a world of conjecture it would end, and poor Lebas's story
+would be listened to as never was story of his before!</p>
+
+<p>A policeman now takes his place at the door to prevent
+further pressure. No new-comers will be admitted, except as
+others go out. Those outside are asking questions of those
+within, and transmitting, over their shoulders, particulars,
+eagerly repeated. On a sudden there is a subsidence of the
+buzz and gabble within, and one voice, speaking almost at the
+pitch of a shriek, is heard declaiming. White as a sheet, Mr.
+Longcluse, in high excitement, is haranguing in the smoking-room,
+mounted on a table.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I say,&rdquo; he cried, &ldquo;gentlemen, excuse me. There are so
+many together here, so many known to be wealthy, it is an
+opportunity for a word. Things are coming to a pretty pass&mdash;garotters
+in our streets and assassins in our houses of entertainment!
+Here is a poor little fellow&mdash;look at him&mdash;here to-night
+to see the game, perfectly well and happy, murdered by some
+miscreant for the sake of the money he had about him. It
+might have been the fate of anyone of us. I spoke to him to-night.
+I had not seen him since I was a boy almost. Seven
+children and a wife, he told me, dependent on him. I say there
+are two things wanted&mdash;first, a reward of such magnitude as
+will induce exertion. I promise, for my own share, to put
+down double the amount promised by the highest subscriber.
+Secondly, something should be done for the family he has left,
+in proportion to the loss they have sustained. Upon this point
+I shall make inquiry myself. But this is plain, the danger and
+scandal have attained a pitch at which none of us who cares to
+walk the streets at night, or at any time to look in upon amusements
+like that we attended this evening, can permit them
+longer to stand. There is a fatal defect somewhere. Are our
+police awake and active? Very possibly; but if so the force is
+not adequate. I say this frightful scandal must be abated if, as
+citizens of London, we desire to maintain our reputation for
+common sense and energy.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>There was a tall thin fellow, shabbily dressed, standing
+nearly behind the door, with a long neck, and a flat mean face,
+slightly pitted with small-pox, rather pallid, who was smiling
+<a class="pagenum" name="Page_25" title="25"> </a>
+lazily, with half-closed eyes, as Mr. Longcluse declaimed; and
+when he alluded pointedly to the inadequacy of the police, this
+man's amusement improved, and he winked pleasantly at the
+clock which he was consulting at the moment with the corner
+of his eye.</p>
+
+<p>And now a doctor arrived, and Gabriel Laroque the watchmaker,
+and more police, with an inspector. Laroque faints
+when he sees his murdered friend. Recovered after a time, he
+identifies the body, identifies the dagger also as the property of
+poor Lebas.</p>
+
+<p>The police take the matter now quite into their hands, and
+clear the room.</p>
+
+<div class="image-center chapter-end">
+<img src="images/ep05.png" width="139" height="116" alt=""/>
+</div>
+
+<div class="image-center chapter-beginning"><a class="pagenum" name="Page_26" title="26"> </a>
+<img src="images/ch06.png" width="442" height="85" alt=""/>
+</div>
+
+<h2 class="no-break">CHAPTER VI.<br/>
+<small>TO BED.</small></h2>
+
+<div><img class="drop-cap" src="images/drop_m.png" width="72" height="73" alt=""/></div>
+
+<p class="drop-cap drop-wide"><span class="upper-case">Mr. Longcluse</span> jumped into a cab, and told the
+man to drive to his house in Bolton Street, Piccadilly.
+He rolled his coat about him with a kind of
+violence, and threw himself into a corner. Then, as
+it were, <i lang="la" xml:lang="la">in furore</i>, and with a stamp on the floor, he pitched
+himself into the other corner.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I've seen to-night what I never thought I should see. What
+devil possessed me to tell him to go into that black little
+smoking-room?&rdquo; he muttered. &ldquo;What a room it is! It has
+seized my brain somehow. Am I in a fever, or going mad, or
+what? That cursed smoking-room! I can't get out of it. It
+is in the centre of the earth. I'm built round and round in it.
+The moment I begin to think, I'm in it. The moment I close
+my eyes, its four stifling walls are round me. There is no way
+out. It is like hell.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>The wind had come round to the south, and a soft rain was
+pattering on the windows. He stopped the cab somewhere
+near St. James's Street, and got out. It was late&mdash;it was just
+past two o'clock, and the streets were quiet. Wonderfully still
+was the great city at this hour, and the descent of the rain went
+on with a sound like a prolonged &ldquo;hush&rdquo; all round. He paid
+the man, and stood for a while on the kerbstone, looking up
+and down the street, under the downpour of the rain. You
+might have taken this millionaire for a man who knew not
+where to lay his head that night. He took off his hat, and let
+the refreshing rain saturate his hair, and stream down his forehead
+and temples.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Your cab's stuffy and hot, ain't it? Standing half the day
+with the glass in the sun, I daresay,&rdquo; said he to the man, who
+<a class="pagenum" name="Page_27" title="27"> </a>
+was fumbling in his pockets, and pretending a difficulty about
+finding change.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;See, never mind, if you haven't got change; I'll go on.
+Heavier rain than I fancied; very pleasant though. When did
+the rain begin?&rdquo; asked Mr. Longcluse, who seemed in no hurry
+to get back again.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;A trifle past ten, Sir.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I say, your horse's knees are a bit broken, ain't they?
+Never mind, I don't care. He can pull you and me to Bolton
+Street, I daresay.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Will you please to get in, Sir?&rdquo; inquired the cabman.</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Longcluse nodded, frowning and thinking of something
+else; the rain still descending on his bare head, his hat in his
+hand.</p>
+
+<p>The cabman thought this &ldquo;cove&rdquo; had been drinking and
+must be a trifle &ldquo;tight.&rdquo; He would not mind if he stood so for
+a couple of hours; it would run his fare up to something pretty.
+So cabby had thoughts of clapping a nosebag to his horse's
+jaws, and was making up his mind to a bivouac. But Mr.
+Longcluse on a sudden got in, repeating his direction to the
+driver in a gay and brisk tone, that did not represent his real
+sensations.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Why should I be so disturbed at that little French fellow?
+Have I been ill, that my nerve is gone and I such a fool? One
+would think I had never seen a dead fellow till now. Better
+for him to be quiet than at his wit's ends, devising ways and
+means to keep his seven cubs in bread and butter. I should
+have gone away when the game was over. What earthly reason
+led me into that d<span style="white-space: nowrap;">&mdash;&mdash;</span>d room, when I heard the fuss there?
+I've a mind to go and play hazard, or see a doctor. Arden said
+he'd look in, in the morning. I should like that; I'll talk to
+Arden. I sha'n't sleep, I know; I can't, all night; I've got
+imprisoned in that suffocating room. Shall I ever close my
+eyes again?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>They had now reached the door of the small, unpretending
+house of this wealthy man. The servant who opened the door,
+though he knew his business, stared a little, for he had never
+seen his master return in such a plight before, and looking so
+haggard.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Where's Franklin?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Arranging things in your room, Sir.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Give me a candle. The cab is paid. Mr. Arden, mind,
+may call in the morning; if I should not be down, show him to
+my room. You are not to let him go without seeing me.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Up-stairs went the pale master of the house. &ldquo;Franklin!&rdquo;
+he called, as he mounted the last flight of stairs, next his bed-room.</p>
+
+<p><a class="pagenum" name="Page_28" title="28"> </a>&ldquo;Yes, Sir.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I sha'n't want you to-night, I think&mdash;that is, I shall manage
+what I want for myself; but I mean to ring for you by-and-by.&rdquo;
+He was in his dressing-room by this time, and looked round to
+see that his comforts were provided for as usual&mdash;his foot-bath
+and hot water.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Shall I fetch your tea, Sir?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I'll drink no tea to-night; I've been disgusted. I've seen a
+dead man, quite unexpectedly; and I sha'n't get over it for
+some hours, I daresay. I feel ill. And what you must do is
+this: when I ring my bell, you come back, and you must sit up
+here till eight in the morning. I shall leave the door between
+this and the next room open; and should you hear me sleeping
+uneasily, moaning, or anything like nightmare, you must come
+in and waken me. And you are not to go to sleep, mind; the
+moment I call, I expect you in my room. Keep yourself awake
+how you can; you may sleep all to-morrow, if you like.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>With this charge Franklin departed.</p>
+
+<p>But Mr. Longcluse's preparations for bed occupied a longer
+time than he had anticipated. When nearly an hour had
+passed, Mr. Franklin ventured up-stairs, and quietly approached
+the dressing-room door; but there he heard his master still
+busy with his preparations, and withdrew. It was not until
+nearly half-an-hour more had passed that his bell gave the
+promised signal, and Mr. Franklin established himself for the
+night, in the easy-chair in the dressing-room, with the connecting
+door between the two rooms open.</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Longcluse was right. The shock which his nerves had
+received did not permit him to sleep very soon. Two hours
+later he called for the Eau-de-Cologne that stood on his dressing-table;
+and although he made belief to wet his temples with it,
+and kept it at his bedside with that professed design, it was Mr.
+Franklin's belief that he drank the greater part of what remained
+in the capacious cut-glass bottle. It was not until people were
+beginning to &ldquo;turn out&rdquo; for their daily labour that sleep at
+length visited the wearied eye-balls of the Cr&oelig;sus.</p>
+
+<p>Three hours of death-like sleep, and Mr. Longcluse, with a
+little start, was wide awake.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Franklin!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Yes, Sir.&rdquo; And Mr. Franklin stood at his bedside.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;What o'clock is it?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Just struck ten, Sir.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Hand me the <cite>Times</cite>.&rdquo; This was done.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Tell them to get breakfast as usual. I'm coming down.
+Open the shutters, and draw the curtains, quite.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>When Franklin had done this and gone down, Mr. Longcluse
+read the <cite>Times</cite> with a stern eagerness, still in bed. The
+<a class="pagenum" name="Page_29" title="29"> </a>
+great billiard match between Hood and Markham was given in
+spirited detail; but he was looking for something else. Just
+under this piece of news, he found it&mdash;&ldquo;Murder and Robbery,
+in the Saloon Tavern.&rdquo; He read this twice over, and then
+searched the paper in vain for any further news respecting it.
+After this search, he again read the short account he had seen
+before, very carefully, and more than once. Then he jumped
+out of bed, and looked at himself in the glass in his dressing-room.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;How awfully seedy I am looking!&rdquo; he muttered, after a
+careful inspection. &ldquo;Better by-and-by.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>His hand was shaking like that of a man who had made a
+debauch, or was worn out with ague. He looked ten years
+older.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I should hardly know myself,&rdquo; muttered he. &ldquo;What a
+confounded, sinful old fogey I look, and I so young and
+innocent!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>The sneer was for himself and at himself. The delivery of
+such is an odd luxury which, at one time or other, most men
+indulge in. Perhaps it should teach us to take them more
+kindly when other people crack such cynical jokes on our
+heads, or, at least, to perceive that they don't always argue
+personal antipathy.</p>
+
+<p>The sour smile which had, for a moment, flickered with a
+wintry light on his face, gave place suddenly to a dark fatigue;
+his features sank, and he heaved a long, deep, and almost
+shuddering sigh.</p>
+
+<p>There are moments, happily very rare, when the idea of
+suicide is distinct enough to be dangerous, and having passed
+which, a man feels that Death has looked him very nearly in
+the face. Nothing more trite and true than the omnipresence
+of suffering. The possession of wealth exempts the unfortunate
+owner from, say, two-thirds of the curse that lies heavy on the
+human race. Two thirds is a great deal; but so is the other
+third, and it may have in it, at times, something as terrible as
+human nature can support.</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Longcluse, the <ins title="millionarie">millionaire</ins>, had, of course, many poor
+enviers. Had any one of all these uttered such a sigh that
+morning? Or did any one among them feel wearier of life?</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;When I have had my tub, I shall be quite another man,&rdquo;
+said he.</p>
+
+<p>But it did not give him the usual fillip; on the contrary, he
+felt rather chilled.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;What can the matter be? I'm a changed man,&rdquo; said he,
+wondering, as people do at the days growing shorter in
+autumn, that time had produced some changes. &ldquo;I remember
+when a scene or an excitement produced no more effect upon
+<a class="pagenum" name="Page_30" title="30"> </a>
+me, after the moment, than a glass of champagne; and now I
+feel as if I had swallowed poison, or drunk the cup of madness.
+Shaking!&mdash;hand, heart, every joint. I have grown such
+a muff!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Longcluse had at length completed his very careless
+toilet, and looking ill, went down-stairs in his dressing-gown
+and slippers.</p>
+
+<div class="image-center chapter-end">
+<img src="images/ep01.png" width="216" height="112" alt=""/>
+</div>
+
+<div class="image-center chapter-beginning"><a class="pagenum" name="Page_31" title="31"> </a>
+<img src="images/ch02.png" width="466" height="125" alt=""/>
+</div>
+
+<h2 class="no-break">CHAPTER VII.<br/>
+<small>FAST FRIENDS.</small></h2>
+
+<div><img class="drop-cap" src="images/drop_i.png" width="73" height="73" alt=""/></div>
+
+<p class="drop-cap drop-narrow"><span class="upper-case">In</span> little more than half-an-hour, as Mr. Longcluse was
+sitting at his breakfast in his dining-room, Richard
+Arden was shown in.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Dressing-gown and slippers&mdash;what a lazy dog I
+am compared with you!&rdquo; said Longcluse gaily as he entered.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Don't say another word on that subject, I beg. I should
+have been later myself, had I dared; but my Uncle David had
+appointed to meet me at ten.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Won't you take something?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Well, as I have had no breakfast, I don't mind if I do,&rdquo;
+said Arden, laughing.</p>
+
+<p>Longcluse rang the bell.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;When did you leave that place last night?&rdquo; asked Longcluse.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I fancy about the same time that you went&mdash;about five or
+ten minutes after the match ended. You heard there was a
+man murdered in a passage there? I tried to get down and
+see it but the crowd was awful.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I was more lucky&mdash;I came earlier,&rdquo; said Longcluse. &ldquo;It
+was perfectly sickening, and I have been seedy ever since.
+You may guess what a shock it was to me. The murdered
+man was that poor little Frenchman I told you of, who had
+been talking to me, in high spirits, just before the play began&mdash;and
+there he was, poor fellow! You'll see it all there; it
+makes me sick.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>He handed him the <cite>Times</cite>.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Yes, I see. I daresay the police will make him out,&rdquo; said
+Arden, as he glanced hastily over it. &ldquo;Did you remark some
+awfully ill-looking fellows there?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p><a class="pagenum" name="Page_32" title="32"> </a>&ldquo;I never saw so many together in a place of the kind
+before,&rdquo; said Longcluse.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;That's a capital account of the match,&rdquo; said Arden, whom
+it interested more than the tragedy of poor little Lebas did.
+He read snatches of it aloud as he ate his breakfast: and
+then, laying the paper down, he said, &ldquo;By-the-bye, I need not
+bother you by asking your advice, as I intended. My uncle
+David has been blowing me up, and I think he'll make everything
+straight. When he sends for me and gives me an awful
+lecture, he always makes it up to me afterwards.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I wish, Arden, I stood as little in need of your advice as
+you do, it seems, of mine,&rdquo; said Longcluse suddenly, after a
+short silence. His dark eyes were fixed on Richard Arden's.
+&ldquo;I have been fifty times on the point of making a confession
+to you, and my heart has failed me. The hour is coming.
+These things won't wait. I must speak, Arden, soon or
+never&mdash;<em>very</em> soon, or never. <em>Never</em>, perhaps, would be
+wisest.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Speak <em>now</em>, on the contrary,&rdquo; said Arden, laying down his
+knife and fork, and leaning back. &ldquo;Now is the best time
+always. If it's a bad thing, why, it's over; and if it's a good
+one, the sooner we have it the better.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Longcluse rose, looking down in meditation, and in silence
+walked slowly to the window, where, for a time, without speaking
+he stood in a reverie. Then, looking up, he said, &ldquo;No
+man likes a crisis. &lsquo;No good general ever fights a pitched
+battle if he can help it.&rsquo; Wasn't that Napoleon's saying?
+No man who has not lost his head likes to get together all he
+has on earth, and make one stake of it. I have been on the
+point of speaking to you often. I have always recoiled.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Here I am, my dear Longcluse,&rdquo; said Richard Arden,
+rising and following him to the window, &ldquo;ready to hear you.
+I ought to say, only too happy if I can be of the least use.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Immense! everything?&rdquo; said Longcluse vehemently.
+&ldquo;And yet I don't know how to ask you&mdash;how to begin&mdash;so
+much depends. Don't you conjecture the subject?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Well, perhaps I do&mdash;perhaps I don't. Give me some
+clue.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Have you formed no conjecture?&rdquo; asked Longcluse.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Perhaps.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Is it anything in any way connected with your sister, Miss
+Arden?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;It may be, possibly.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Say what you think, Arden, I beseech you.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Well, I think, perhaps, you admire her.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Do I? Do I? Is that all? Would to God I could say
+that is all! Admiration, what is it?&mdash;Nothing. Love?&mdash;Nothing.
+<a class="pagenum" name="Page_33" title="33"> </a>
+Mine is adoration and utter madness. I have told
+my secret. What do you say? Do you hate me for it?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Hate you, my dear fellow! Why on earth should I hate
+you? On the contrary, I ought, I think, to like you better.
+I'm only a little surprised that your feelings should so much
+exceed anything I could have supposed.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Yesterday, Arden, you spoke as if you liked me. As we
+drove into that place, I fancied you half understood me; and
+cheered by what you then said, I have spoken that which
+might have died with me, but for that.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Well, what's the matter? My dear Longcluse, you talk as
+if I had shown signs of wavering friendship. Have I? Quite
+the contrary.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Quite the contrary, that is true,&rdquo; said Longcluse eagerly.
+&ldquo;Yes, you <em>should</em> like me better for it&mdash;that is true also.
+Yours is no wavering friendship, I'm sure of it. Let us shake
+hands upon it. A treaty, Arden, a treaty!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>With a fierce smile upon his pale face, and a sudden fire in
+his eyes, he extended his hand energetically, and took that of
+Arden, who answered the invitation with a look in which
+gleamed faintly something of amusement.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Now, Richard Arden,&rdquo; he continued excitedly, &ldquo;you have
+more influence with Miss Arden than falls commonly to the lot
+of a brother. I have observed it. It results from her having
+had during her earlier years little society but yours, and from
+your being some years her senior. It results from her strong
+affection for you, from her admiration of your talents, and from
+her having neither brother nor sister to divide those feelings.
+I never yet saw brother possessed of so evident and powerful
+an influence with a sister. You must use it all for me.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>He continued to hold Arden's hand in his as he spoke.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You can withdraw your hand if you decline,&rdquo; said he.
+&ldquo;I sha'n't complain. But your hand remains&mdash;you don't. It
+is a treaty, then. Henceforward we live <i lang="la" xml:lang="la">fædere icto</i>. I'm an
+exacting friend, but a good one.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;My dear fellow, you do me but justice. I am your friend,
+altogether. But you must not mistake me for a guardian or a
+father in the matter. I wish I could make my sister think
+exactly as I do upon every subject, and <em>that</em> above all others.
+All I can say is, in me you have a fast friend.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Longcluse pressed his hand, which he had not relinquished,
+at these words, with a firm grasp and a quick shake.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Now listen. I must speak on this point, the one that is in
+my mind, my chief difficulty. Personally, there is not, I think,
+a living being in England who knows my history. I am glad of
+it, for reasons which you will approve by-and-by. But this is
+an enormous disadvantage, though only temporary, and the
+<a class="pagenum" name="Page_34" title="34"> </a>
+friends of the young lady must weigh my wealth against it for
+the present. But when the time comes, which can't now be
+distant, upon my honour! upon my soul!&mdash;by Heaven, I'll
+show you I'm of as good and old a family as any in England!
+We have been gentlemen up to the time of the Conqueror, here
+in England, and as far before him as record can be traced in
+Normandy. If I fail to show you this when the hour comes,
+stigmatise me as you will.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I have not a doubt, dear Longcluse. But you are urging a
+point that really has no weight with us people in England. We
+have taken off our hats to the gentlemen in casques and tabards,
+and feudal glories are at a discount everywhere but in Debrett,
+where they are taken with allowance. Your ideas upon these
+matters are more Austrian than ours. We expect, perhaps, a
+little more from the man, but certainly less from his ancestors
+than our forefathers did. So till a title turns up, and the
+heralds want them, make your mind easy on matters of pedigree,
+and then you can furnish them with effect. All I can tell you is
+this&mdash;there are hardly fifty men in England who dare tell all the
+truth about their families.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;We are friends, then; and in that relation, Arden, if there
+are privileges, there are also liabilities, remember, and both
+extend into a possibly distant future.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Longcluse spoke with a gloomy excitement that his companion
+did not quite understand.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;That is quite true, of course,&rdquo; said Arden.</p>
+
+<p>Each was looking in the other's face for a moment, and each
+face grew suddenly dark, darker&mdash;and the whole room darkened
+as the air was overshadowed by a mass of cloud that eclipsed
+the sun, threatening thunder.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;By Jove! How awfully dark in a moment!&rdquo; said Arden,
+looking from the face thus suddenly overcast through the
+window towards the sky.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Dark as the future we were speaking of,&rdquo; said Longcluse,
+with a sad smile.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Dark in one sense, I mean unseen, but not darkened in the
+ill-omened sense,&rdquo; said Richard Arden. &ldquo;I have great confidence
+in the future. I suppose I am sanguine.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I ought to be sanguine, if having been lucky hitherto should
+make one so, and yet I'm not. <em>My</em> happiness depends on that
+which I cannot, in the least, control. Thought, action, energy,
+contribute nothing, and so I but drift, and&mdash;my heart fails me.
+Tell me, Arden, for Heaven's sake, truth&mdash;spare me nothing,
+conceal nothing. Let me but know it, however bitter. First
+tell me, does Miss Arden dislike me&mdash;has she an antipathy to
+me?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Dislike you! Nonsense. How could that be? She
+<a class="pagenum" name="Page_35" title="35"> </a>
+evidently enjoys your society, when you are in spirits and
+choose to be amusing. Dislike you? Oh, my dear Longcluse,
+you can't have fancied such a thing!&rdquo; said Arden.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;A man placed as I am may fancy anything&mdash;things infinitely
+more unlikely. I sometimes hope she has never perceived my
+admiration. It seems strange and cruel, but I believe where a
+man cannot be beloved, nothing is so likely to make him <em>hated</em>
+as his presuming to love. <em>There</em> is the secret of half the
+tragedies we read of. The man cannot cease to love, and the
+idol of his passion not only disregards but insults it. It is their
+cruel nature; and thus the pangs of jealousy and the agitations
+of despair are heightened by a peculiar torture, the hardest of
+all hell's torture to endure.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Well, I have seen you pretty often together, and you must
+see there is nothing of that kind,&rdquo; said Arden.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You speak quite frankly, do you? For Heaven's sake don't
+spare me!&rdquo; urged Longcluse.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I say exactly what I think. There can't be any such
+feeling,&rdquo; said Arden.</p>
+
+<p>Longcluse sighed, looked down thoughtfully, and then, raising
+his eyes again, he said&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You must answer me another question, dear Arden, and I
+shall, for the present, task your kindness no more. If you think
+it a fair question, will you promise to answer me with unsparing
+frankness? Let me hear the worst.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Certainly,&rdquo; answered his companion.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Does your sister like anyone in particular&mdash;is she attached
+to anyone&mdash;are her affections quite disengaged?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;So far as I am aware, certainly. She never cared for any
+one among all the people who admired her, and I am quite
+certain such a thing could not be without my observing it,&rdquo;
+answered Richard Arden.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I don't know; perhaps not,&rdquo; said Longcluse. &ldquo;But there
+is a young friend of yours, who I thought was an admirer of
+Miss Arden's, and possibly a favoured one. You guess, I daresay,
+who it is I mean?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I give you my honour I have not the least idea.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I mean an early friend of yours&mdash;a man about your own
+age&mdash;who has often been staying in Yorkshire and at Mortlake
+with you, and who was almost like a brother in your house&mdash;very
+intimate.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Surely you can't mean Vivian Darnley?&rdquo; exclaimed Richard
+Arden.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I do. I mean no other.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Vivian Darnley? Why, he has hardly enough to live on,
+much less to marry on. He has not an idea of any such
+thing. If my father fancied such an absurdity possible, he
+<a class="pagenum" name="Page_36" title="36"> </a>
+would take measures to prevent his ever seeing her more. You
+could not have hit upon a more impossible man,&rdquo; he resumed,
+after a moment's examination of a theory which, notwithstanding,
+made him a little more uneasy than he would have cared to
+confess. &ldquo;Darnley is no fool either, and I think he is a
+honourable fellow; and altogether, knowing him as I do, the
+thing is utterly incredible. And as for Alice, the idea of his
+imagining any such folly, I can undertake to say, positively
+never entered her mind.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Here was another pause. Longcluse was again thoughtful.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;May I ask one other question, which I think you will have
+no difficulty in answering?&rdquo; said he.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;What you please, dear Longcluse; you may command me.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Only this, how do you think Sir Reginald would receive
+me?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;A great deal better than he will ever receive me; with his
+best bow&mdash;no, not that, but with open arms and his brightest
+smile. I tell you, and you'll find it true, my father is a man of
+the world. Money won't, of course, do everything; but it can
+do a great deal. It can't make a vulgar man a gentleman, but
+it may make a gentleman anything. I really think you would
+find him a very fast friend. And now I must leave you, dear
+Longcluse. I have just time, and no more, to keep my
+appointment with old Mr. Blount, to whom my uncle commands
+me to go at twelve.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Heaven keep us both, dear Arden, in this cheating world!
+Heaven keep us true in this false London world! And God
+punish the first who breaks faith with the other!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>So spoke Longcluse, taking his hand again, and holding it
+hard for a moment, with his unfathomable dark eyes on Arden.
+Was there a faint and unconscious menace in his pale face, as
+he uttered these words, which a little stirred Arden's pride?</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;That's a comfortable litany to part with&mdash;a form of blessing
+elevated so neatly, at the close, into a malediction. However, I
+don't object. Amen, by all means,&rdquo; laughed Arden.</p>
+
+<p>Longcluse smiled.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;A malediction? I really believe it was. Something very
+like it, and one that includes myself, doesn't it? But we are
+not likely to earn it. An arrow shot into the sea, it can hurt no
+one. But oh, dear Arden, what does such language mean but
+suffering? What is all bitterness but pain? Is any mind that
+deserves the name ever cruel, except from misery? We are
+good friends, Arden: and if ever I seem to you for a moment
+other than friendly, just say, &lsquo;It is his heart-ache and not he
+that speaks.&rsquo; Good-bye! God bless you!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>At the door there was another parting.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;There's a long dull day before me&mdash;say, rather, <em>night</em>;
+<a class="pagenum" name="Page_37" title="37"> </a>
+weary eyes, sleepless brain,&rdquo; murmured Longcluse, in a rather
+dismal soliloquy, standing in his slippers and dressing-gown
+again at the window. &ldquo;Suspense! What a hell is in that
+word! Chain a man across a rail, in a tunnel&mdash;pleasant
+situation! let him listen for the faint fifing and drumming of the
+engine, miles away, not knowing whether deliverance or death
+may come first. Bad enough, that suspense. What is it to
+mine! I shall see her to-night. I shall see her, and how will
+it all be? Richard Arden wishes it&mdash;yes, he does. &lsquo;Away,
+slight man!&rsquo; It is Brutus who says that, I think. Good
+Heaven! Think of my life&mdash;the giddy steps I go by. That
+dizzy walk by moonlight, when I lost my way in Switzerland&mdash;beautiful
+nightmare!&mdash;the two mile ledge of rock before me,
+narrow as a plank; up from my left, the sheer wall of rock; at
+my right so close that my glove might have dropped over it, the
+precipice; and curling vapour on the cliffs above, that seem
+about to break, and envelope all below in blinding mist. There
+is my life translated into landscape. It has been one long
+adventure&mdash;danger&mdash;fatigue. Nature is full of beauty&mdash;many a
+quiet nook in life, where peace resides; many a man whose
+path is broad and smooth. Woe to the man who loses his way
+on Alpine tracks, and is benighted!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Now Mr. Longcluse recollected himself. He had letters to
+read and note. He did this rapidly. He had business in town.
+He had fifty things on his hands; and, the day over, he would
+see Alice Arden again.</p>
+
+<div class="image-center chapter-end">
+<img src="images/ep01.png" width="216" height="112" alt=""/>
+</div>
+
+<div class="image-center chapter-beginning"><a class="pagenum" name="Page_38" title="38"> </a>
+<img src="images/ch01.png" width="441" height="84" alt=""/>
+</div>
+
+<h2 class="no-break">CHAPTER VIII.<br/>
+<small>CONCERNING A BOOT.</small></h2>
+
+<div><img class="drop-cap" src="images/drop_s.png" width="73" height="72" alt=""/></div>
+
+<p class="drop-cap"><span class="upper-case">Several</span> pairs of boots were placed in Mr. Longcluse's
+dressing-room.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Where are the boots that I wore yesterday?&rdquo;
+asked he.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;If you please, Sir,&rdquo; said Mr. Franklin, &ldquo;the man called this
+morning for the right boot of that pair.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;What man?&rdquo; asked Mr. Longcluse, rather grimly.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Mr. Armagnac's man, Sir.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Did you desire him to call for it?&rdquo; asked Mr. Longcluse.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;No, Sir. I thought you must have told some one else to
+order him to send for it,&rdquo; said Franklin.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;<em>I?</em> You ought to know I leave those things to <em>you</em>,&rdquo; said
+Mr. Longcluse, staring at him more aghast and fierce than the
+possible mislaying of a boot would seem to warrant. &ldquo;Did you
+see Armagnac's man?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;No, Sir. It was Charles who came up, at eight o'clock,
+when you were still asleep, and said the shoemaker had called
+for the right boot of the pair you wore yesterday. I had placed
+them outside the door, and I gave it him, Sir, supposing it all
+right.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Perhaps it <em>was</em> all right; but you know Charles has not
+been a week here. Call him up. I'll come to the bottom of
+this.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Franklin disappeared, and Mr. Longcluse, with a stern frown,
+was staring vaguely at the varnished boot, as if it could tell
+something about its missing companion. His brain was already
+at work. What the plague was the meaning of this man&oelig;uvre
+about his boot? And why on earth, think I, should he make
+such a fuss and a tragedy about it? Charles followed Mr.
+Franklin up the stairs.</p>
+
+<p><a class="pagenum" name="Page_39" title="39"> </a>&ldquo;What's all this about my boot?&rdquo; demanded Mr. Longcluse,
+peremptorily. &ldquo;<em>Who</em> has got it?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;A man called for it this morning, Sir.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;What man?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I think he said he came from Mr. Armagnac's, Sir.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You <em>think</em>. Say what you <em>know</em>, Sir. What <em>did</em> he say?&rdquo;
+said Mr. Longcluse, looking dangerous.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Well, Sir,&rdquo; said the man, mending his case, &ldquo;he did say,
+Sir, he came from Mr. Armagnac's, and wanted the right
+boot.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;What right boot?&mdash;<em>any</em> right boot?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;No, Sir, please; the right boot of the pair you wore last
+night,&rdquo; answered the servant.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;And <em>you</em> gave it to him?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Yes, Sir, 'twas me,&rdquo; answered Charles.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Well, you mayn't be quite such a fool as you look. I'll sift
+all this to the bottom. You go, if you please, this moment, to
+Monsieur Armagnac, and say I should be obliged to him for a
+line to say whether he this morning sent for my boot, and got it&mdash;and
+I must have it back, mind; <em>you</em> shall bring it back, you
+understand? And you had better make haste.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I made bold, Sir,&rdquo; said Mr. Franklin, &ldquo;to send for it myself,
+when you sent me down for Charles; and the boy will be <ins title="back.">back,</ins>
+Sir, in two or three minutes.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Well, come you and Charles here again when the boy comes
+back, and bring him here also. I'll make out who has been
+playing tricks.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Longcluse shut his dressing-room door sharply; he
+walked to the window, and looked out with a vicious scowl; he
+turned about, and lifted up his clenched hand, and stamped on
+the floor. A sudden thought now struck him.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;The right foot? By Jove! it may not be the one.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>The boot that was left was already in his hand. He was
+examining it curiously.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Ay, by heaven! The right <em>was</em> the boot! What's the
+meaning of this? Conspiracy? I should not wonder.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>He examined it carefully again, and flung it into its corner
+with violence.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;If it's an accident, it is a very odd one. It is a suspicious
+accident. It may be, of course, all right. I daresay it <em>is</em> all
+right. The odds are ten, twenty, a thousand to one that
+Armagnac has got it. I should have had a warm bath last
+night, and taken a ten miles' ride into the country this morning.
+It must be all right, and I am plaguing myself without a
+cause.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Yet he took up the boot, and examined it once more; then,
+dropping it, went to the window and looked into the street&mdash;came
+<a class="pagenum" name="Page_40" title="40"> </a>
+back, opened his door, and listened for the messenger's
+return.</p>
+
+<p>It was not long deferred. As he heard them approach, Mr.
+Longcluse flung open his door and confronted them, in white
+waistcoat and shirt-sleeves, and with a very white and stern
+face&mdash;face and figure all white.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Well, what about it? Where's the boot?&rdquo; he demanded,
+sharply.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;The boy inquired, Sir,&rdquo; said Mr. Franklin, indicating the
+messenger with his open hand, and undertaking the office of
+spokesman; &ldquo;and Mr. Armagnac did not send for the boot,
+Sir, and has not got it.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;<ins title="Oh">Oh,</ins> oh! very good. And now, Sir,&rdquo; he said, in rising
+fury, turning upon Charles, &ldquo;what have <em>you</em> got to say for
+yourself?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;The man said he came from Mr. Armagnac, please, Sir,&rdquo;
+said Charles, &ldquo;and wanted the boot, which Mr. Franklin should
+have back as early as he could return it.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Then you gave it to a common thief with that cock-and-a-bull
+story, and you wish me to believe that you took it all for
+gospel. There are men who would pitch you over the bannisters
+for a less thing. If I could be certain of it, I'd put you beside
+him in the dock. But, by heavens! I'll come to the bottom of
+the whole thing yet.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>He shut the door with a crash, in the faces of the three men,
+who stood on the lobby.</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Franklin was a little puzzled at these transports, all about
+a boot. The servants looked at one another without a word.
+But just as they were going down, the dressing-room door
+opened, and the following dialogue ensued:&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;See, Charles, it was you who saw and spoke with that man?&rdquo;
+said Longcluse.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Yes, Sir.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Should you know him again?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Yes, Sir, I think I should.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;What kind of man was he?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;A very common person, Sir.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Was he tall or short? What sort of figure?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Tall, Sir.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Go on; what more? Describe him.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Tall, Sir, with a long neck, and held himself straight; very
+flat feet, I noticed; a thin man, broad in the shoulders&mdash;pretty
+well that.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Describe his face,&rdquo; said Longcluse.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Nothing very particular, Sir; a shabby sort of face&mdash;a bad
+colour.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;How?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p><a class="pagenum" name="Page_41" title="41"> </a>&ldquo;A bad white, Sir, and pock-marked something; a broad
+face and flat, and a very little bit of a nose; his eyes almost
+shut, and a sort of smile about his mouth, and stingy bits of red
+whiskers, in a curl, down each cheek.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;How old?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;He might be nigh fifty, Sir.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Ha, ha! very good. How was he dressed?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Black frock coat, Sir, a good deal worn; an old flowered
+satin waistcoat, worn and dirty, Sir; and a pair of raither dirty
+tweed trousers. Nothing fitted him, and his hat was brown and
+greasy, begging your parding, Sir; and he had a stick in his
+hand, and cotton gloves&mdash;a-trying to look genteel.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;And he asked for the right boot?&rdquo; asked Mr. Longcluse.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Yes, Sir.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You are quite sure of that? Did he take the boot without
+looking at it, or did he examine it before he took it away?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;He looked at it sharp enough, Sir, and turned up the sole,
+and he said &lsquo;It's all right,&rsquo; and he went away, taking it along
+with him.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;He asked for the boot I wore yesterday, or last night&mdash;which
+did he say?&rdquo; asked Mr. Longcluse.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I think it was last night he said, Sir,&rdquo; answered Charles.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Try to recollect yourself. Can't you be certain? Which
+was it?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I think it was <em>last night</em>, Sir, he said.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;It doesn't signify,&rdquo; said Mr. Longcluse; &ldquo;I wanted to see
+that your memory was pretty clear on the subject. You seem
+to remember all that passed pretty accurately.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I recollect it perfectly well, Sir.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;H'm! That will do. Franklin, you'll remember that description&mdash;let
+every one of you remember it. It is the description
+of a thief; and when you see that fellow again, hold him
+fast till you put him in the hands of a policeman. And, Charles,
+you must be prepared, d'ye see, to swear to that description;
+for I am going to the detective office, and I shall give it to the
+police.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Yes, Sir,&rdquo; answered Charles.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I sha'n't want you, Franklin; let some one call a cab.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>So he returned to his dressing-room, and shut the door, and
+thought&mdash;&ldquo;That's the fellow whom that miserable little fool,
+Lebas, pointed out to me at the saloon last night. He watched
+him, he said, wherever he went. <em>I</em> saw him. There may be
+other circumstances. That is the fellow&mdash;that is the very man.
+Here's matter to think over! By heaven! that fellow must be
+denounced, and discovered, and brought to justice. It is a
+strong case&mdash;a pretty hanging case against him. We shall see.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Full of surmises about his lost boot, <i lang="la" xml:lang="la">Atra Cura</i> walking unheard
+<a class="pagenum" name="Page_42" title="42"> </a>
+behind him, with her cold hand on his shoulder, and with
+the image of the ex-detective always gliding before or beside
+him, and peering with an odious familiarity over his shoulder
+into his face, Mr. Longcluse marched eastward with a firm tread
+and a cheerful countenance. Friends who nodded to him, as he
+walked along Piccadilly, down Saint James's Street, and by Pall
+Mall, citywards, thought he had just been listening to an amusing
+story. Others, who, more deferentially, saluted the great
+man as he walked lightly by Temple Bar, towards Ludgate Hill,
+for a moment perplexed themselves with the thought, &ldquo;What
+stock is up, and what down, on a sudden, to-day, that Longcluse
+looks so radiant?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<div class="image-center chapter-end">
+<img src="images/ep01.png" width="216" height="112" alt=""/>
+</div>
+
+<div class="image-center chapter-beginning"><a class="pagenum" name="Page_43" title="43"> </a>
+<img src="images/ch09.png" width="464" height="77" alt=""/>
+</div>
+
+<h2 class="no-break">CHAPTER IX.<br/>
+<small>THE MAN WITHOUT A NAME.</small></h2>
+
+<div><img class="drop-cap" src="images/drop_m.png" width="72" height="73" alt=""/></div>
+
+<p class="drop-cap drop-wide"><span class="upper-case">Mr. Longcluse</span> had made up his mind to a certain
+course&mdash;a sharp and bold one. At the police office
+he made inquiry. &ldquo;He understood a man had been
+lately dismissed from the force, answering to a certain
+description, which he gave them; and he wished to know
+whether he was rightly informed, because a theft had been that
+morning committed at his house by a man whose appearance
+corresponded, and against whom he hoped to have sufficient
+evidence.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Yes, a man like that had been dismissed from the detective
+department within the last fortnight.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;What was his name?&rdquo; Mr. Longcluse asked.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Paul Davies, Sir.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;If it should turn out to be the same, I may have a more
+serious charge to bring against him,&rdquo; said Mr. Longcluse.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Do you wish to go before his worship, and give an information,
+Sir?&rdquo; urged the officer, invitingly.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Not quite ripe for that yet,&rdquo; said Mr. Longcluse, &ldquo;but it is
+likely very soon.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;And what might be the nature of the more serious charge,
+Sir?&rdquo; inquired the officer, insinuatingly.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I mean to give my evidence at the coroner's inquest that
+will be held to-day, on the Frenchman who was murdered last
+night at the Saloon Tavern. It is not conclusive&mdash;it does not
+fix anything upon him; it is merely inferential.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Connecting him with the murder?&rdquo; whispered the man,
+something like reverence mingling with his curiosity, as he discovered
+the interesting character of his interrogator.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I can only say possibly connecting him in some way with it.
+Where does the man live?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p><a class="pagenum" name="Page_44" title="44"> </a>&ldquo;He did live in Rosemary Court, but he left that, I think.
+I'll ask, if you please, Sir. Tompkins&mdash;hi! You know where
+Paul Davies puts up. Left Rosemary Court?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Yes, five weeks. He went to Gold Ring Alley, but he's left
+that a week ago, and I don't know where he is now, but will
+easy find him. Will it answer at eight this evening, Sir?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Quite. I want a servant of mine to have a sight of him,&rdquo;
+said Longcluse.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;If you like, Sir, to leave your address and a stamp, we'll
+send you the information by post, and save you calling here.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Thanks, yes, I'll do that.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>So Mr. Longcluse took his leave, and proceeded to the place
+where the coroner was sitting. Mr. Longcluse was received in
+that place with distinction. The moneyed man was honoured&mdash;eyes
+were gravely fixed on him, and respectful whispers went
+about. A seat was procured for him; and his evidence, when
+he came to give it, was heard with marked attention, and a
+general hush of expectation.</p>
+
+<hr class="thought-break"/>
+
+<p>The reader, with his permission, must now pass away, seaward,
+from this smoky London, for a few minutes, into a clear
+air, among the rustling foliage of ancient trees, and the fragrance
+of hay-fields, and the song of small birds.</p>
+
+<p>On the London and Dover road stands, as you know, the
+&ldquo;Royal Oak,&rdquo; still displaying its ancient signboard, where you
+behold King Charles&nbsp;II sitting with laudable composure, and a
+crown of Dutch gold on his head, and displaying his finery
+through an embrasure in the foliage, with an ostentation somewhat
+inconsiderate, considering the proximity of the halberts of
+the military emissaries in search of him to the royal features.
+As you drive towards London, it shows at the left side of the
+road, a good old substantial inn and posting-house. Its business
+has dwindled to something very small indeed, for the
+traffic prefers the rail, and the once bustling line of road is now
+quiet. The sun had set, but a reflected glow from the sky was
+still over everything; and by this somewhat lurid light Mr.
+Truelock, the innkeeper, was observing from the steps the
+progress of a chaise, with four horses and two postilions, which
+was driving at a furious pace down the gentle declivity about a
+quarter of a mile away, from the Dover direction towards the
+&ldquo;Royal Oak&rdquo; and London.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;It's a runaway. Them horses has took head. What do
+you think, Thomas?&rdquo; he asked of the old waiter who stood
+beside him.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;No. See, the post-boys is whipping the hosses. No, Sir,
+it's a gallop, but no runaway.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;There's luggage a' top?&rdquo; said the innkeeper.</p>
+
+<p><a class="pagenum" name="Page_45" title="45"> </a>&ldquo;Yes, Sir, there's something,&rdquo; answered Tom.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I don't see nothing a-followin' them,&rdquo; said Mr. Truelock,
+shading his eyes with his hand as he gazed.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;No&mdash;there <em>is</em> nothing,&rdquo; said Tom.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;They're in fear o' summat, or they'd never go at that lick,&rdquo;
+observed Mr. Truelock, who was inwardly conjecturing the likelihood
+of their pulling up at his door.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Lawk! <em>there</em> was a jerk. They <em>was</em> nigh over at the finger-post
+turn,&rdquo; said Tom, with a grin.</p>
+
+<p>And now the vehicle and the reeking horses were near. The
+post-boys held up their whips by way of signal to the &ldquo;Royal
+Oak&rdquo; people on the steps, and pulled up the horses with all
+their force before the door. Trembling, snorting, rolling up
+wreaths of steam, the exhausted horses stood.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;See to the gentleman, will ye?&rdquo; cried one of the postilions.</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Truelock, with the old-fashioned politeness of the English
+innkeeper, had run down in person to the carriage door, which
+Tom had opened. Master and man were a little shocked to
+behold inside an old gentleman, with a very brown, or rather a
+very bilious visage, thin, and with a high nose, who looked, as
+he lay stiffly back in the corner of the carriage, enveloped in
+shawls, with a velvet cap on, as if he were either dead or in a
+fit. His eyes were half open, and nothing but the white balls
+partly visible. There was a little froth at his lips. His mouth
+and delicately-formed hands were clenched, and all the furrows
+and lines of a selfish face fixed, as it seemed, in the lock of
+death. John Truelock said not a word, but peered at this
+visitor with a horrible curiosity.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;If he's dead,&rdquo; whispered Tom in his ear, &ldquo;we don't take in
+no dead men here. Ye'll have the coroner and his jury in the
+house, and the place knocked up-side down; and if ye make
+five pounds one way ye'll lose ten the tother.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Ye'll have to take him on, I'm thinkin',&rdquo; said Mr. Truelock,
+rousing himself, stepping back a little, and addressing the post-boys
+sturdily. &ldquo;You've no business bringin' a deceased party
+to my house. You must go somewhere else, if so be he <em>is</em>
+deceased.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;He's not gone dead so quick as that,&rdquo; said the postilion,
+dismounting from the near leader, and throwing the bridle to a
+boy who stood by, as he strutted round bandily to have a peep
+into the chaise. The postilion on the &ldquo;wheeler&rdquo; had turned
+himself about in the saddle in order to have a peep through the
+front window of the carriage. The innkeeper returned to the
+door.</p>
+
+<p>If the old London and Dover road had been what it once
+was, there would have been a crowd about the carriage by this
+time. Except, however, two or three servants of the &ldquo;Royal
+<a class="pagenum" name="Page_46" title="46"> </a>
+Oak,&rdquo; who had come out to see, no one had yet joined the little
+group but the boy who was detained, bridle in hand, at the
+horse's head.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;He'll not be dead yet,&rdquo; repeated the postilion dogmatically.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;What happened him?&rdquo; asked Mr. Truelock.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I don't know,&rdquo; answered the post-boy.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Then how can you say whether he be dead or no?&rdquo; demanded
+the innkeeper.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Fetch me a pint of half-and-half,&rdquo; said the dismounted post-boy,
+aside, to one of the &ldquo;Royal Oak&rdquo; people at his elbow.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;We was just at this side of High Hixton,&rdquo; said his brother
+in the saddle, &ldquo;when he knocked at the window with his stick,
+and I got a cove to hold the bridle, and I came round to the
+window to him. He had scarce any voice in him, and looked
+awful bad, and he said he thought he was a-dying. &lsquo;And how
+far on is the next inn?&rsquo; he asked; and I told him the &lsquo;Royal
+Oak&rsquo; was two miles; and he said, &lsquo;Drive like lightning, and
+I'll give you half a guinea a-piece&rsquo;&mdash;I hope he's not gone
+dead&mdash;&lsquo;if you get there in time.&rsquo;&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>By this time their heads were in the carriage again.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Do you notice a sort of a little jerk in his foot, just the least
+thing in the world?&rdquo; inquired the landlord, who had sent for
+the doctor. &ldquo;It will be a fit, after all. If he's living, we'll fetch
+him into the 'ouse.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>The doctor's house was just round the corner of the road,
+where the clump of elms stands, little more than a hundred
+yards from the sign of the &ldquo;Royal Oak.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Who is he?&rdquo; inquired Mr. Truelock.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I don't know,&rdquo; answered the postilion.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;What's his name?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Don't know that, neither.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Why, it'll be on that box, won't it?&rdquo; urged the innkeeper,
+pointing to the roof, where a portmanteau with a glazed cover
+was secured.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Nothing on that but &lsquo;R.&nbsp;A.,&rsquo;&rdquo; answered the man, who had
+examined it half an hour before, with the same object.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Royal Artillery, eh?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>While they were thus conjecturing, the doctor arrived. He
+stepped into the chaise, felt the old man's hand, tried his pulse,
+and finally applied the stethoscope.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;It is a nervous seizure. He is in a very exhausted state,&rdquo;
+said the doctor, stepping out again, and addressing Truelock.
+&ldquo;You must get him into bed, and don't let his head down; take
+off his handkerchief, and open his shirt-collar&mdash;do you mind?
+I had best arrange him myself.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>So the forlorn old man, without a servant, without a name, is
+carried from the chaise, possibly to die in an inn.</p>
+
+<p><a class="pagenum" name="Page_47" title="47"> </a>The Rev. Peter Sprott, the rector, passing that way a few
+minutes later, and hearing what had befallen, went up to the
+bed-room, where the old gentleman lay in a four-poster, still
+unconscious.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Here's a case,&rdquo; said the doctor to his clerical friend. &ldquo;A
+nervous attack. He'd be all right in no time, but he's so low.
+I daresay he crossed the herring-pond to-day, and was ill; he's
+in such an exhausted state. I should not wonder if he sank;
+and here we are, without a clue to his name or people. No
+servant, no name on his trunk; and, certainly, it would be
+awkward if he died unrecognised, and without a word to apprise
+his relations.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Is there no letter in his pockets?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Not one,&rdquo; Truelock says.</p>
+
+<p>The rector happened to take up the great-coat of the old
+gentleman, in which he found a small breast pocket, that had
+been undiscovered till now, and in this a letter. The envelope
+was gone, but the letter, in a lady's hand began: &ldquo;My dearest
+papa.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;We are all right, by Jove, we're in luck!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;How does she sign herself?&rdquo; said the doctor.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;&lsquo;Alice Arden,&rsquo; and she dates from 8, Chester Terrace,&rdquo;
+answered the clergyman.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;We'll telegraph forthwith,&rdquo; said the doctor. &ldquo;It had best be
+in your name&mdash;the clergyman, you know&mdash;to a young lady.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>So together they composed the telegram.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Shall it be <em>ill</em> simply, or <em>dangerously</em> ill?&rdquo; inquired the
+clergyman.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Dangerously,&rdquo; said the doctor.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;But <em>dangerously</em> may terrify her.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;And if we say only <em>ill</em>, she mayn't come at all,&rdquo; said the
+doctor.</p>
+
+<p>So the telegram was placed in Truelock's hands, who went
+himself with it to the office; and we shall follow it to its destination.</p>
+
+<div class="image-center chapter-end">
+<img src="images/ep09.png" width="218" height="46" alt=""/>
+</div>
+
+<div class="image-center chapter-beginning"><a class="pagenum" name="Page_48" title="48"> </a>
+<img src="images/ch03.png" width="472" height="107" alt=""/>
+</div>
+
+<h2 class="no-break">CHAPTER X.<br/>
+<small>THE ROYAL OAK.</small></h2>
+
+<div><img class="drop-cap" src="images/drop_t.png" width="72" height="72" alt=""/></div>
+
+<p class="drop-cap"><span class="upper-case">Three</span> people were sitting in Lady May Penrose's
+drawing-room, in Chester Terrace, the windows of
+which, as all her ladyship's friends are aware,
+command one of the parks. They were looking westward,
+where the sky was all a-glow with the fantastic gold and
+crimson of sunset. It is quite a mistake to fancy that sunset,
+even in the heart of London&mdash;which this hardly could be termed&mdash;has
+no rural melancholy and poetic fascination in it. Should
+that hour by any accident overtake you, in the very centre of
+the city, looking, say, from an upper window, or any other
+elevation toward the western sky beyond stacks of chimneys,
+roofs, and steeples, even through the smoke of London, you will
+feel the melancholy and poetry of sunset, in spite of your surroundings.</p>
+
+<p>A little silence had stolen over the party; and young Vivian
+Darnley, who stole a glance now and then at beautiful Alice Arden,
+whose large, dark, grey eyes were gazing listlessly towards the
+splendid mists, that were piled in the west, broke the silence by
+a remark that, without being very wise, or very new, was yet, he
+hoped, quite in accord with the looks of the girl, who seemed
+for a moment saddened.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I wonder why it is that sunset, which is so beautiful, makes
+us all sad!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;It never made me sad,&rdquo; said good Lady May Penrose,
+comfortably. &ldquo;There is, I think, something very pleasant in a
+good sunset; there <em>must</em> be, for all the little birds begin to sing
+in it&mdash;it must be cheerful. Don't you think so, Alice?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Alice was, perhaps, thinking of something quite different, for
+rather listlessly, and without a change of features, she said, &ldquo;Oh,
+yes, very.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p><a class="pagenum" name="Page_49" title="49"> </a>&ldquo;So, Mr. Darnley, you may sing, &lsquo;Oh, leave me to my sorrow!&rsquo;
+for we won't mope with you about the sky. It is a very odd
+taste, that for being dolorous and miserable. I don't understand
+it&mdash;I never could.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Thus rebuked by Lady Penrose, and deserted by Alice,
+Darnley laughed and said&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Well, I do seem rather to have put my foot in it&mdash;but I did not
+mean miserable, you know; I meant only that kind of thing that
+one feels when reading a bit of really good poetry&mdash;and most
+people do not think it a rather pleasant feeling.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Don't mind that moping creature, Alice; let us talk about
+something we can all understand. I heard a bit of news to-day&mdash;perhaps,
+Mr. Darnley, you can throw a light upon it. You are
+a distant relation, I think, of Mr. David Arden.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Some very remote cousinship, of which I am very proud,&rdquo;
+answered the young man gaily, with a glance at Alice.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;And what is that&mdash;what about uncle David?&rdquo; inquired the
+young lady, with animation.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I heard it from my banker to-day. Your uncle, you know,
+dear, despises us and our doings, and lives, I understand, very
+quietly; I mean, he has chosen to live quite out of the world, so
+we have no chance of hearing anything except by accident,
+from people we are likely to know. Do you see much of your
+uncle, my dear?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Not a great deal; but I am very fond of him&mdash;he is such a
+good man, or at least, what is better,&rdquo; she laughed, &ldquo;he has
+always been so very kind to me.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You know him, <ins title="Mr">Mr.</ins> Darnley?&rdquo; inquired Lady May.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;By Jove, I do!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;And like him?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;No one on earth has better reason to like him,&rdquo; answered
+the young man warmly&mdash;&ldquo;he has been my best friend on
+earth.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;It is pleasant to know two people who are not ashamed to
+be grateful,&rdquo; said fat Lady May, with a smile.</p>
+
+<p>The young lady returned her smile very kindly. I don't think
+you ever beheld a prettier creature than Alice Arden. Vivian
+Darnley had wasted many a secret hour in sketching that oval
+face. Those large, soft, grey eyes, and long dark lashes, how
+difficult they are to express! And the brilliant lips! Could art
+itself paint anything quite like her? Who could paint those
+beautiful dimples that made her smiles so soft, or express the
+little circlet of pearly teeth whose tips were just disclosed?
+Stealthily he was now, for the thousandth time, studying that
+bewitching smile again.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;And what is the story about Uncle David?&rdquo; asked Alice
+again.</p>
+
+<p><a class="pagenum" name="Page_50" title="50"> </a>&ldquo;Well, what will you say&mdash;and you, Mr. Darnley, if it should
+be a story about a young lady?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Do you mean that Uncle David is going to marry? I think
+it would be an awful pity!&rdquo; exclaimed Alice.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Well, dear, to put you out of pain, I'll tell you at once; I
+only know this&mdash;that he is going to provide for her somehow,
+but whether by adopting her as a child, or taking her for a wife, I
+can't tell. Only I never saw any one looking archer than Mr.
+Brounker did to-day when he told me; and I fancied from that
+it could not be so dull a business as merely making her his
+daughter.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;And who is the young lady?&rdquo; asked Alice.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Did you ever happen to meet anywhere a Miss Grace
+Maubray?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Oh, yes,&rdquo; answered Alice quickly. &ldquo;She was staying, and
+her father, Colonel Maubray, at the Wymerings' last autumn.
+She's quite lovely, I think, and very clever&mdash;but I don't know&mdash;I
+think she's a little ill-natured, but very amusing. She seems
+to have a talent for cutting people up&mdash;and a little of that kind
+of thing, you know, is very well, but one does not care for it
+<em>always</em>. And is she really the young lady?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Yes, and<span style="white-space: nowrap;">&mdash;&mdash;</span> Dear me! Mr. Darnley, I'm afraid my
+story has alarmed you.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Why should it?&rdquo; laughed Vivian Darnley, partly to <ins title="cover">cover,</ins>
+perhaps, a little confusion.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I can't tell, I'm sure, but you blushed as much as a man
+can; and you know you did. I wonder, Alice, what this under-plot
+can be, where all is so romantic. Perhaps, after all, Mr.
+David Arden is to adopt the young lady, and some one else, to
+whom he is also kind, is to marry her. Don't you think that
+would be a very natural arrangement?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Alice laughed, and Darnley laughed; but he was embarrassed.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;And Colonel Maubray, is he still living?&rdquo; asked Alice.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Oh, no, dear; he died ten or eleven months ago. A very
+foolish man, you know; he wasted a very good property. He
+was some distant relation, also; Mr. Brounker said your uncle,
+Mr. David Arden, was very much attached to him&mdash;they were
+schoolfellows, and great friends all their lives.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I should not wonder,&rdquo; said Alice smiling&mdash;and then became
+silent.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Do you know the young lady, this fortunate Miss Maubray?&rdquo;
+said Lady May, turning to Vivian Darnley again.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I? Yes&mdash;that is, I can't say more than a mere acquaintance&mdash;and
+not an old one. I made her acquaintance at Mr. Arden's
+house. He is her guardian. I don't know about any other
+arrangements. I daresay there may be.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p><a class="pagenum" name="Page_51" title="51"> </a>&ldquo;Well, I know her a little, also,&rdquo; said Lady May. &ldquo;I thought
+her pretty&mdash;and she sings a little, and she's clever.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;She's all that,&rdquo; said Alice. &ldquo;Oh, here comes Dick! What
+do you say, Richard&mdash;is not Miss Maubray very pretty? We
+are making a plot to marry her to Vivian Darnley, and get
+Uncle David to contribute her <i lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">dot</i>.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;What benevolent people! <em>You</em> don't object, I dare say,
+Vivian.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I have not been consulted,&rdquo; said he; &ldquo;and, of course, Uncle
+David need not be consulted, as he has simply to transfer the
+proper quantity of stock.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Richard Arden had drawn near Lady May, and said a few
+words in a low tone, which seemed not unwelcome to her.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I saw Longcluse this morning. He has not been here, has
+he?&rdquo; he added, as a little silence threatened the conversation.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;No, he has not turned up. And what a charming person he
+is!&rdquo; exclaimed Lady May.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I quite agree with you, Lady May,&rdquo; said Arden. &ldquo;He is,
+take him on every subject, I think, about the cleverest fellow I
+ever met&mdash;art, literature, games, <em>chess</em>, which I take to be a
+subject by itself. He is very great at chess&mdash;for an amateur, I
+mean&mdash;and when I was chess-mad, nearly a year ago and beginning
+to grow conceited, he opened my eyes, I can tell you; and
+Airly says he is the best musical critic in England, and can tell
+you at any hour who is who in the opera, all over Europe; and
+he really understands, what so few of us here know anything
+about, foreign politics, and all the people and their stories and
+scandals he has at his fingers' ends. And he is such good
+company, when he chooses, and such a gentleman always!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;He is very agreeable and amusing when he takes the trouble;
+I always like to listen when Mr. Longcluse talks,&rdquo; said Alice
+Arden, to the secret satisfaction of her brother, whose enthusiasm
+was, I think, directed a good deal to her&mdash;and to, perhaps,
+the vexation of other people, whom she did not care at that
+moment to please.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;An Admirable Crichton!&rdquo; murmured Vivian Darnley, with
+a rather hackneyed sneer. &ldquo;Do you like his style of&mdash;<em>beauty</em>, I
+suppose I should call it? It has the merit of being very uncommon,
+at least, don't you think?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Beauty, I think, matters very little. He has no beauty, but
+his face has what, in a man, I think a great deal better&mdash;I mean
+refinement, and cleverness, and a kind of satire that rather
+interests one,&rdquo; said Miss Arden, with animation.</p>
+
+<p>Sir Walter Scott, in his &ldquo;Rob Roy&rdquo;&mdash;thinking, no doubt, of
+the Diana Vernon of his early days, the then beautiful lady, long
+afterwards celebrated by Basil Hall as the old Countess Purgstorf
+(if I rightly remember the title), and recurring to some
+<a class="pagenum" name="Page_52" title="52"> </a>
+cherished incident, and the thrill of a pride that had ceased to
+agitate, but was at once pleasant and melancholy to remember&mdash;wrote
+these words: &ldquo;She proceeded to read the first stanza,
+which was nearly to the following purpose. [Then follow the
+verses.] &lsquo;There is a great deal of it,&rsquo; said she, glancing along
+the paper, and interrupting the sweetest sounds that mortal ears
+can drink in&mdash;those of a youthful poet's verses, namely, read by
+the lips which are dearest to them.&rdquo; So writes Walter Scott.
+On the other hand, in certain states, is there a pain intenser
+than that of listening to the praises of another man from the
+lips we love?</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Well,&rdquo; said Darnley, &ldquo;as you say so, I suppose there is all
+that, though I can't see it. Of course, if he tries to make himself
+agreeable (which he never does to me), it makes a difference,
+it affects everything&mdash;it affects even his looks. But I should
+not have thought him good-looking. On the contrary, he
+appears to me about as ugly a fellow as one could see in a day.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;He's not that,&rdquo; said Alice. &ldquo;No one could be ugly with so
+much animation and so much expression.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You take up the cudgels very prettily, my dear, for Mr.
+Longcluse,&rdquo; said Lady May. &ldquo;I'm sure he ought to be extremely
+obliged to you.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;So he would be,&rdquo; said Richard Arden. &ldquo;It would upset
+him for a week, I have no doubt.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>There are few things harder to interpret than a blush. At
+these words the beautiful face of Alice Arden flushed, first with
+a faint, and then, as will happen, with a brighter crimson. If
+Lady May had seen it, she would have laughed, probably, and
+told her how much it became her. But she was, at that moment,
+going to her chair in the window, and Richard Arden would, of
+course, accompany her. He did see it, as distinctly as he saw
+the glow in the sky over the park trees. But, knowing what a
+slight matter will sometimes make a recoil, and even found an
+antipathy, he wisely chose to see it not&mdash;and chatting gaily,
+followed Lady May to the window.</p>
+
+<p>But Vivian Darnley, though he said nothing, saw that blush,
+of which Alice, with a sort of haughty defiance, was conscious.
+It did not make him like or admire Mr. Longcluse more.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Well, I suppose he is very charming&mdash;I don't know him well
+enough myself to give an opinion. But he makes his acquaintances
+rather oddly, doesn't he? I don't think any one will
+dispute that.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I don't know really. Lady May introduced him to me, and
+she seems to like him very much. So far as I can see, people
+are very well pleased at knowing him, and don't trouble their
+heads as to how it came about,&rdquo; said Miss Arden.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;No, of course; but people not fortunate enough to come
+<a class="pagenum" name="Page_53" title="53"> </a>
+within the influence of his fascination, can't help observing.
+How did he come to know your brother, for instance? Did
+any one introduce him? Nothing of the kind. Richard's horse
+was hurt or lame at one of the hunts in Warwickshire, and he
+lent him a horse, and introduced himself, and they dined
+together that evening on the way back, and so the thing was
+done.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Can there be a better introduction than a kindness?&rdquo; asked
+Alice.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Yes, where it <em>is</em> a kindness, I agree; but no one has a
+right to push his services upon a stranger who does not ask for
+them.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I really can't see. Richard need not have taken his horse
+if he had not liked,&rdquo; she answered.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;And Lady May, who thinks him such a paragon, knows no
+more about him than any one else. She had her footman
+behind her&mdash;didn't she tell you all about it?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I really don't recollect; but does it very much matter?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I think it does&mdash;that is, it has been a sort of system. He
+just gave her his arm over a crossing, where she had taken
+fright, and then pretended to think her <ins title="great">a great</ins> deal more frightened
+than she really can have been, and made her sit down to recover
+in a confectioner's shop, and so saw her home, and <em>that</em> affair
+was concluded. I don't say, of course, that he is never introduced
+in the regular way; but a year or two ago, when he was
+beginning, he always made his approaches by means of that
+kind of stratagem; and the fact is, no one knows anything on
+earth about him; he has emerged, like a figure in a phantasmagoria,
+from total darkness, and may lose himself in darkness
+again at any moment.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I am interested in that man, whoever he is; his entrance,
+and his probable exit, so nearly resemble mine,&rdquo; said a clear,
+deep-toned voice close to them; and looking up, Miss Arden
+saw the pale face and peculiar smile of Mr. Longcluse in the
+fading twilight.</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Longcluse was greeted by Lady May and by Richard
+Arden, and then again he drew near Alice, and said, &ldquo;Do you
+recollect, Miss Arden, about ten days ago I told you a story that
+seemed to interest you&mdash;the story of a young and eloquent friar,
+who died of love in his cell in an abbey in the Tyrol, and whose
+ghost used to be seen pensively leaning on the pulpit from which
+he used to preach, too much thinking of the one beautiful face
+among his audience, which had enthralled him. I had left the
+enamel portrait I told you of at an artist's in Paris, and I wrote
+for it, thinking you might wish to see it&mdash;hoping you might care
+to see it,&rdquo; he added, in a lower tone, observing that Vivian
+Darnley, who was not in a happy temper, had, with a sudden
+<a class="pagenum" name="Page_54" title="54"> </a>
+impulse of disdain, removed himself to another window, there to
+contemplate the muster of the stars in the darkening sky, at his
+leisure.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;That was so kind of you, Mr. Longcluse! You have had a
+great deal of trouble. It <em>is</em> such an interesting story!&rdquo; said
+Alice.</p>
+
+<p>In his reception, Mr. Longcluse found something that pleased,
+almost elated him. Had Richard Arden been speaking to her
+on the subject of their morning's conversation? He thought
+not, Lady May had mentioned that he had not been with them
+till just twenty minutes ago, and Arden had told him that he had
+dined with his uncle David and Mr. Blount, upon the same
+business on which he had been occupied with both nearly all
+day. No, he could not have spoken to her. The slight change
+which made him so tumultuously proud and happy, was entirely
+spontaneous.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;So it seemed to me&mdash;an eccentric and interesting story&mdash;but
+pray do not wound me by speaking of trouble. I only wish you
+knew half the pleasure it has been to me to get it to show you.
+May I hold the lamp near for a moment while you look at it?&rdquo;
+he said, indicating a tiny lamp which stood on a pier-table,
+showing a solitary gleam, like a lighthouse, through the gloom;
+&ldquo;you could not possibly see it in this faint twilight.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>The lady assented. Had Mr. Longcluse ever felt happier?</p>
+
+<div class="image-center chapter-end">
+<img src="images/ep04.png" width="232" height="128" alt=""/>
+</div>
+
+<div class="image-center chapter-beginning"><a class="pagenum" name="Page_55" title="55"> </a>
+<img src="images/ch02.png" width="466" height="125" alt=""/>
+</div>
+
+<h2 class="no-break">CHAPTER XI.<br/>
+<small>THE TELEGRAM ARRIVES.</small></h2>
+
+<div><img class="drop-cap" src="images/drop_m.png" width="72" height="73" alt=""/></div>
+
+<p class="drop-cap drop-wide"><span class="upper-case">Mr. Longcluse</span> placed the little oval enamel, set in
+gold, in Miss Arden's fingers, and held the lamp beside
+her while she looked.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;How beautiful!&mdash;how very interesting!&rdquo; she exclaimed.
+&ldquo;What suffering in those thin, handsome features!
+What a strange enthusiasm in those large hazel eyes! I could
+fancy that monk the maddest of lovers, the most chivalric of
+saints. And did he really suffer that incredible fate? Did he
+really die of love?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;So they say. But why incredible? I can quite imagine that
+wild shipwreck, seeing what a raging sea love is, and how frail
+even the strongest life.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Well, I can't say, I am sure. But your own novelists laugh
+at the idea of any but women&mdash;whose business it is, of course,
+to pay that tribute to their superiors&mdash;dying of love. But if any
+man could die such a death, he must be such as this picture
+represents. What a wild, agonised picture of passion and asceticism!
+What suicidal devotion and melancholy rapture! I confess
+I could almost fall in love with that picture myself.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;And I think, were I he, I could altogether die to earn one
+such sentence, so spoken,&rdquo; said Mr. Longcluse.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Could you lend it to me for a very few days?&rdquo; asked the
+young lady.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;As many&mdash;as long as you please. I am only too happy.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I should so like to make a large drawing of this in chalks!&rdquo;
+said Alice, still gazing on the miniature.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You draw so beautifully in chalks! Your style is not often
+found here&mdash;your colouring is so fine.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Do you really think so?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p><a class="pagenum" name="Page_56" title="56"> </a>&ldquo;You must know it, Miss Arden. You are too good an artist
+not to suspect what everyone else must see, the real excellence
+of your drawings. Your colouring is better understood in
+France. Your master, I fancy, was a Frenchman?&rdquo; said Mr.
+Longcluse.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Yes, he was, and we got on very well together. Some of
+his young lady pupils were very much afraid of him.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Your poetry is fired by that picture, Miss Arden. Your
+copy will be a finer thing than the original,&rdquo; said he.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I shall aim only at making it a faithful copy; and if I can
+accomplish anything like that, I shall be only too glad.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I hope you will allow me to see it?&rdquo; pleaded Longcluse.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Oh, certainly,&rdquo; she laughed. &ldquo;Only I'm a little afraid of
+you, Mr. Longcluse.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;What can you mean, Miss Arden?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I mean, you are so good a critic in art, every one says, that
+I really <em>am</em> afraid of you,&rdquo; answered the young lady, laughing.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I should be very glad to forfeit any little knowledge I have,
+if it were attended with such a misfortune,&rdquo; said Longcluse.
+&ldquo;But I don't flatter; I tell you truly, a critic has only to admire,
+when he looks at your drawings; they are quite above the level
+of an amateur's work.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Well, whether you mean it or not, I <em>am</em> very much flattered,&rdquo;
+she laughed. &ldquo;And though wise people say that flattery spoils
+one, I can't help thinking it very agreeable to be flattered.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>At this point of the dialogue Mr. Vivian Darnley&mdash;who
+wished that it should be plain to all, and to one in particular,
+that he did not care the least what was going on in other parts
+of the room&mdash;began to stumble through the treble of a tune at
+the piano with his right hand. And whatever other people may
+have thought of his performance, to Miss Alice Arden it seemed
+very good music indeed, and inspired her with fresh animation.
+Such as it was, Mr. Darnley's solo also turned the course of Miss
+Arden's thoughts from drawing to another art, and she said&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You, Mr. Longcluse, who know everything about the opera,
+can you tell me&mdash;of course you can&mdash;anything about the great
+basso who is coming?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Stentoroni?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Yes; the newspapers and critics promise wonders.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;It is nearly two years since I heard him. He was very
+great, and deserves all they say in &lsquo;Robert le Diable.&rsquo; But
+there his greatness began and ended. The voice, of course,
+you had, but everything else was defective. It is plain, however,
+that the man who could make so fine a study of one opera,
+could with equal labour make as great a success in others. He
+has not sung in any opera for more than a year and a half, and
+has been working diligently; and so everyone is in the dark
+<a class="pagenum" name="Page_57" title="57"> </a>
+very much, and I am curious to hear the result&mdash;and nobody
+knows more than I have told you. You are sure of a good
+&lsquo;Robert le Diable,&rsquo; but all the rest is speculation.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;And now, Mr. Longcluse, I shall try your good-nature.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;How?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I am going to make Lady May ask you to sing a song.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Pray don't.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Why not?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I should so much rather you asked me yourself.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;That's very good of you; then I certainly shall. I <em>do</em> ask
+you.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;And I instantly obey. And what shall the song be?&rdquo; asked
+he, approaching the piano, to which she also walked.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Oh, that ghostly one that I liked so much when you sang it
+here about a week ago,&rdquo; she answered.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I know it&mdash;yes, with pleasure.&rdquo; And he sat down at the
+piano, and in a clear, rich baritone, sang the following odd
+song:&mdash;</p>
+
+<div class="poetry">
+<div class="stanza">
+<div class="line">&ldquo;The autumn leaf was falling<br/></div>
+<div class="line indent3">At midnight from the tree,<br/></div>
+<div class="line indent1">When at her casement calling,<br/></div>
+<div class="line indent3">&lsquo;I'm here, my love,&rsquo; says he.<br/></div>
+<div class="line indent1">&lsquo;Come down and mount behind me,<br/></div>
+<div class="line indent3">And rest your little head,<br/></div>
+<div class="line indent1">And in your white arms wind me,<br/></div>
+<div class="line indent3">Before that I be dead.<br/></div>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<div class="line">&ldquo;&lsquo;You've stolen my heart by magic,<br/></div>
+<div class="line indent3">I've kissed your lips in dreams:<br/></div>
+<div class="line indent1">Our wooing wild and tragic<br/></div>
+<div class="line indent3">Has been in ghostly scenes.<br/></div>
+<div class="line indent1">The wondrous love I bear you<br/></div>
+<div class="line indent3">Has made one life of twain,<br/></div>
+<div class="line indent1">And it will bless or scare you,<br/></div>
+<div class="line indent3">In deathless peace or pain.<br/></div>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<div class="line">&ldquo;&lsquo;Our dreamland shall be glowing,<br/></div>
+<div class="line indent3">If you my bride will be;<br/></div>
+<div class="line indent1">To darkness both are going,<br/></div>
+<div class="line indent3">Unless you come with me.<br/></div>
+<div class="line indent1">Come now, and mount behind me,<br/></div>
+<div class="line indent3">And rest your little head,<br/></div>
+<div class="line indent1">And in your white arms wind me,<br/></div>
+<div class="line indent3">Before that I be dead.&rsquo;&rdquo;<br/></div>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Why, dear Alice, will you choose that dismal song, when
+you know that Mr. Longcluse has so many others that are not
+only charming, but cheery and natural?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p><a class="pagenum" name="Page_58" title="58"> </a>&ldquo;It is because it is <em>un</em>natural that I like that song so much;
+the air is so ominous and spectral, and yet so passionate. I
+think the idea is Icelandic&mdash;those ghostly lovers that came in
+the dark to win their beloved maidens, who as yet knew nothing
+of their having died, to ride with them over the snowy fields and
+frozen rivers, to join their friends at a merry-making which they
+were never to see; but there is something more mysterious even
+in this lover, for his passion has unearthly beginnings that lose
+themselves in utter darkness. Thank you very much, Mr.
+Longcluse. It is so very kind of you! And now, Lady May,
+isn't it your turn to choose? May she choose, Mr. Longcluse?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Any one, if you desire it, may choose anything I possess,
+and have it,&rdquo; said he, in a low impassioned murmur.</p>
+
+<p>How the young lady would have taken this, I know not, but
+all were suddenly interrupted. For at this moment a servant
+entered with a note, which he presented, upon a salver, to Mr.
+Longcluse.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Your servant is waiting, Sir, please, for orders in the awl,&rdquo;
+murmured the man.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Oh, yes&mdash;thanks,&rdquo; said Mr. Longcluse, who saw a shabby
+letter, with the words &ldquo;Private&rdquo; and &ldquo;Immediate&rdquo; written in
+a round, vulgar hand over the address.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Pray read your note, Mr. Longcluse, and don't mind us,&rdquo;
+said Lady May.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Thank you very much. I think I know what this is. I gave
+some evidence to-day at an inquest,&rdquo; began Mr. Longcluse.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;That wretched Frenchman,&rdquo; interposed Lady May,
+&ldquo;Monsieur Lebrun or<span style="white-space: nowrap;">&mdash;&mdash;</span>&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Lebas,&rdquo; said Vivian Darnley.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Yes, so it was, Lebas; what a frightful thing that was!&rdquo;
+continued Lady May, who was always well up in the day's
+horrors.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Very melancholy, and very alarming also. It is a selfish
+way of looking at it, but one can't help thinking it might just as
+well have happened to any one else who was there. It brings it
+home to one a little uncomfortably,&rdquo; said Mr. Longcluse, with
+an uneasy smile and a shrug.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;And you actually gave evidence, Mr. Longcluse?&rdquo; said
+Lady May.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Yes, a little,&rdquo; he answered. &ldquo;It may lead to something. I
+hope so. As yet it only indicates a line of inquiry. It will be
+in the papers, I suppose, in the morning. There will be, I
+daresay, a pretty full report of that inquest.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Then you saw something occur that excited your suspicions?&rdquo;
+said Lady May.</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Longcluse recounted all he had to tell, and mentioned
+<a class="pagenum" name="Page_59" title="59"> </a>
+having made inquiries as to the present abode of the man, Paul
+Davies, at the police office.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;And this note, I daresay, is the one they promised to send
+me, telling the result of their inquiries,&rdquo; he added.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Pray open it and see,&rdquo; said Lady May.</p>
+
+<p>He did so. He read it in silence. From his foot to the
+crown of his head there crept a cold influence as he read.
+Stream after stream, this <i lang="la" xml:lang="la">aura</i> of fear spread upwards to his
+brain. Pale Mr. Longcluse shrugged and smiled, and smiled
+and shrugged, as his dark eye ran down the lines, and with a
+careless finger he turned the page over. He smiled, as prizefighters
+smile for the spectators, while every nerve quivered with
+pain. He looked up, smiling still, and thrust the note into his
+breast-pocket.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Well, Mr. Longcluse, a long note it seems to have been,&rdquo;
+said Lady May, curiously.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Not very long, but what is as bad, very illegible,&rdquo; said Mr.
+Longcluse gaily.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;And what about the man&mdash;the person the police were to
+have inquired after?&rdquo; she persisted.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I find it is no police information, nothing of the kind,&rdquo;
+answered Longcluse with the same smile. &ldquo;It comes by no
+means from one of that long-headed race of men; on the
+contrary, poor fellow, I believe he is literally a little mad. I
+make him a trifling present every Christmas, and that is a very
+good excuse for his plaguing me all the year round. I was in
+hopes this letter might turn out an amusing one, but it is not;
+it is a failure. It is rather sensible, and disgusting.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Well, then, I must have my song, Mr. Longcluse,&rdquo; said
+Lady May, who, under cover of music, sometimes talked a little,
+in gentle murmurs, to that person with whom talk was
+particularly interesting.</p>
+
+<p>But that song was not to be heard in Lady May's drawing-room
+that night, for a kindred interruption, though much more
+serious in its effects upon Mr. Longcluse's companions, occurred.
+A footman entered, and presented on a salver a large brown
+envelope to Miss Alice Arden.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Oh, dear! It is a telegram,&rdquo; exclaimed Miss Arden, who
+had taken it to the window. Lady May Penrose was beside
+her by this time. Alice looked on the point of fainting.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I'm afraid papa is very ill,&rdquo; she whispered, handing the
+paper, which trembled very much in her hand, to Lady May.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;H'm! Yes&mdash;but you may be sure it's exaggerated. Bring
+some sherry and water, please. You look a little frightened,
+my dear. Sit down, darling. There now! These messages
+are always written in a panic. What do you mean to do?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I'll go, of course,&rdquo; said Alice.</p>
+
+<p><a class="pagenum" name="Page_60" title="60"> </a>&ldquo;Well, yes&mdash;I think you must go. What is the place? Twyford,
+the &lsquo;Royal Oak?&rsquo; Look out Twyford, please Mr. Darnley&mdash;there's
+a book there. It must be a post-town. It was
+thoughtful saying it is on the Dover coach road.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Vivian Darnley was gazing in deep concern at Alice.
+Instantly he began turning over the book, and announced in a
+few moments more&mdash;&ldquo;It is a post-town&mdash;only thirty-six miles
+from London,&rdquo; said Mr. Darnley.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Thanks,&rdquo; said Lady May. &ldquo;Oh, here's the wine&mdash;I'm so
+glad! You must have a little, dear; and you'll take Louisa
+Diaper with you, of course; and you shall have one of my
+carriages, and I'll send a servant with you, and <ins title="he ll">he'll</ins> arrange
+everything; and how soon do you wish to go?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Immediately, instantly&mdash;thanks, darling. I'm <em>so</em> much
+obliged!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Will your brother go with you?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;No, dear. Papa, you know, has not forgiven him, and it
+is, I think, two years since they met. It would only agitate
+him.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>And with these words she hurried to her room, and in
+another moment, with the aid of her maid, was completing
+her hasty preparations.</p>
+
+<p>In wonderfully little time the carriage was at the door.
+Mr. Longcluse had taken his leave. So had Richard Arden,
+with the one direction to the servant, &ldquo;If anything should
+go <em>very</em> wrong, be sure to telegraph for me. Here is my
+address.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Put this in your purse, dear,&rdquo; said Lady May. &ldquo;Your
+father is so thoughtless, he may not have brought money
+enough with him; and you will find it is as I say&mdash;he'll be
+a great deal better by the time you get there; and God
+bless you, my dear.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>And she kissed her as heartily as she dared, without communicating
+the rouge and white powder which aided her
+complexion.</p>
+
+<p>As Alice ran down, Vivian Darnley awaited her outside the
+drawing-room door, and ran down with her, and put her into
+the carriage. He leaned for a moment on the window, and
+said&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I hope you didn't mind that nonsense Lady May was
+talking just now about Miss Grace Maubray. I assure you
+it is utter folly. I was awfully vexed; but you didn't believe
+it?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I didn't hear her say anything, at least seriously. Wasn't
+she laughing? I'm in such trouble about that message! I
+am so longing to be at my journey's end!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>He took her hand and pressed it, and the carriage drove
+<a class="pagenum" name="Page_61" title="61"> </a>
+away. And standing on the steps, and quite forgetting the
+footman close behind him, he watched it as it drove rapidly
+southward, until it was quite out of sight, and then with a
+great sigh and &ldquo;God for ever bless you!&rdquo;&mdash;uttered not above
+his breath&mdash;he turned about, and saw those powdered and
+liveried effigies, and walked up with his head rather high to
+the drawing-room, where he found Lady May.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I sha'n't go to the opera to-night; it is out of the
+question,&rdquo; said she. &ldquo;But <em>you</em> shall. You go to my box,
+you know; Jephson will put you in there.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>It was plain that the good-natured soul was unhappy about
+Alice, and, Richard Arden having departed, wished to be
+alone. So Vivian took his leave, and went away&mdash;but not to
+the opera&mdash;and sauntered for an hour, instead, in a melancholy
+romance up and down the terrace, till the moon rose
+and silvered the trees in the park.</p>
+
+<div class="image-center chapter-end">
+<img src="images/ep01.png" width="216" height="112" alt=""/>
+</div>
+
+<div class="image-center chapter-beginning"><a class="pagenum" name="Page_62" title="62"> </a>
+<img src="images/ch06.png" width="442" height="85" alt=""/>
+</div>
+
+<h2 class="no-break">CHAPTER XII.<br/>
+<small>SIR REGINALD ARDEN.</small></h2>
+
+<div><img class="drop-cap" src="images/drop_t.png" width="72" height="72" alt=""/></div>
+
+<p class="drop-cap"><span class="upper-case">The</span> human mind being, in this respect, of the nature
+of a kaleidoscope, that the slightest hitch, or jolt,
+or tremor is enough to change the entire picture
+that occupies it, it is not to be supposed that the
+illness of her father, alarming as it was, could occupy Alice
+Arden's thoughts to the exclusion of every other subject,
+during every moment of her journey. One picture, a very
+pretty one, frequently presented itself, and always her heart
+felt a strange little pain as this pretty phantom appeared. It
+was the portrait of a young girl, with fair golden hair, a
+brilliant complexion, and large blue eyes, with something
+<i lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">riant</i>, triumphant, and arch to the verge of mischief, in her
+animated and handsome face.</p>
+
+<p>The careless words of good Lady May, this evening, and the
+very obvious confusion of Vivian Darnley at mention of the
+name of Grace Maubray, troubled her. What was more likely
+than that Uncle David, interested in both, should have seriously
+projected the union which Lady May had gaily suggested? If
+she&mdash;Alice Arden&mdash;liked Vivian Darnley, it was not very much,
+her pride insisted. In her childhood they had been thrown
+together. He had seemed to like her; but had he ever spoken?
+Why was he silent? Was she fool enough to like him?&mdash;that
+cautious, selfish young man, who was thinking, she was quite
+certain now, of a marriage of prudence or ambition with Grace
+Maubray? It was a cold, cruel, sordid world!</p>
+
+<p>But, after all, why should he have spoken? or why should he
+have hoped to be heard with favour? She had been to him,
+thank Heaven, just as any other pleasant, early friend. There
+was nothing to regret&mdash;nothing fairly to blame. It was just
+that a person whom she had come to regard as a property was
+<a class="pagenum" name="Page_63" title="63"> </a>
+about to go, and belong quite, to another. It was the foolish
+little jealousy that everyone feels, and that means nothing. So
+she told herself; but constantly recurred the same pretty image,
+and with it the same sudden little pain at her heart.</p>
+
+<p>But now came the other care. As time and space shorten,
+and the moment of decision draws near, the pain of suspense
+increases. They were within six miles of Twyford. Her heart
+was in a wild flutter&mdash;now throbbing madly, now it seemed
+standing still. The carriage window was down. She was looking
+out on the scenery&mdash;strange to her&mdash;all bright and serene
+under a brilliant moon. What message awaited her at the inn
+to which they were travelling at this swift pace? How frightful
+it might be!</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Oh, Louisa!&rdquo; she every now and then imploringly cried to
+her maid, &ldquo;how do you think it will be? Oh! how will it be?
+Do you think he'll be better? Oh! do you think he'll be better?
+Tell me again about his other illness, and how he recovered?
+Don't you think he will this time? Oh, Louisa, darling! don't
+you think so? Tell me&mdash;<em>tell</em> me you do!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Thus, in her panic, the poor girl wildly called for help and
+comfort, until at last the carriage turned a curve in the road at
+which stood a shadowy clump of elms, and in another moment
+the driver pulled up under the sign of the &ldquo;Royal Oak.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Oh, Louisa! Here it is,&rdquo; cried the young lady, holding her
+maid's wrist with a trembling grasp.</p>
+
+<p>The inn-door was shut, but there was light in the hall, and
+light in an upper room.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Don't knock&mdash;only ring the bell. He may be asleep, God
+grant!&rdquo; said the young lady.</p>
+
+<p>The door was quickly opened, and a waiter ran down to
+the carriage window, where he saw a pair of large wild eyes,
+and a very pale face, and heard the question&mdash;&ldquo;An old gentlemen
+has been ill here, and a telegram was sent; is he&mdash;how
+is he?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;He's better, Ma'am,&rdquo; said the man.</p>
+
+<p>With a low, long &ldquo;O&mdash;Oh!&rdquo; and clasped hands and upturned
+eyes, she leaned back in the carriage, and a sudden flood of
+tears relieved her. Yes; he was a great deal better. The
+attack was quite over; but he had not spoken. He seemed
+much exhausted; and having swallowed some claret, which the
+doctor prescribed, he had sunk into a sound and healthy sleep,
+in which he still lay. A message by telegraph had been sent to
+announce the good news, but Alice was some way on her
+journey before it had reached.</p>
+
+<p>Now the young lady got down, and entered the homely old
+inn, followed by her maid. She could have dropped on her
+knees in gratitude to her Maker; but true religion, like true
+<a class="pagenum" name="Page_64" title="64"> </a>
+affection, is shy of demonstrating its fervours where sympathy is
+doubtful.</p>
+
+<p>Gently, hardly breathing, guided by the &ldquo;chambermaid,&rdquo; she
+entered her father's room, and stood at his bedside. There he
+lay, yellow, lean, the lines of his face in repose still forbidding,
+the thin lips and thin nose looking almost transparent, and
+breathing deeply and regularly, as a child in his slumbers. In
+that face Alice could not discover what any stranger would
+have seen. She only saw the face of her father. Selfish and
+capricious as he was, and violent too&mdash;a wicked old man, if one
+could see him justly&mdash;he was yet proud of her, and had many
+schemes and projects afloat in his jaded old brain, of which her
+beauty was the talisman, of which she suspected nothing, and
+with which his head was never more busy than at the very
+moment when he was surprised by the <i lang="la" xml:lang="la">aura</i> of his coming fit.</p>
+
+<p>The doctor's conjecture was right. He had crossed the
+Channel that morning. In his French <i lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">coupée</i>, he had for companion
+the very man he had most wished and contrived to travel
+homeward with. This was Lord Wynderbroke.</p>
+
+<p>Lord Wynderbroke was fifty years old and upwards. He was
+very much taken with Alice, whom he had met pretty often.
+He was a man who was thought likely to <ins title="marry">marry.</ins> His estate
+was in the nattiest order. He had always been prudent, and
+cultivated a character. He had, moreover, mortgages over Sir
+Reginald Arden's estate, the interest of which the baronet was
+beginning to find it next to impossible to pay. They had been
+making a little gouty visit to Vichy, and Sir Reginald had taken
+good care to make the journey homeward with Lord Wynderbroke,
+who knew that when he pleased he could be an amusing
+companion, and who also felt that kind of interest in him which
+everyone experiences in the kindred of the young lady of whom
+he is enamoured.</p>
+
+<p>The baronet, who tore up or burnt his letters for the most
+part, had kept this particular one by which his daughter had
+been traced and summoned to the &ldquo;Royal Oak.&rdquo; It was, he
+thought, clever. It was amusing, and had some London
+gossip. He had read bits of it to Lord Wynderbroke in the
+<i lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">coupée</i>. Lord Wynderbroke was delighted. When they parted,
+he had asked leave to pay him a visit at Mortlake.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Only too happy, if you are not afraid of the old house
+falling in upon us. Everything <em>there</em>, you know, is very much
+as my grandfather left it. I only use it as a caravanserai, and
+alight there for a little, on a journey. Everything there is
+tumbling to pieces. But you won't mind&mdash;no more than I do.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>So the little visit was settled. The passage was rough.
+Peer and baronet were ill. They did not care to reunite their
+fortunes after they touched English ground. As the baronet
+<a class="pagenum" name="Page_65" title="65"> </a>
+drew near London, for certain reasons he grew timid. He got
+out with a portmanteau and dressing-case, and an umbrella, at
+Drowark station, sent his servant on with the rest of the
+luggage by rail, and himself took a chaise; and, after one
+change of horses, had reached the &ldquo;Royal Oak&rdquo; in the state
+in which we first saw him.</p>
+
+<p>The doctor had told the people at that inn that he would
+look in, in the course of the night, some time after one o'clock,
+being a little uneasy about a possible return of the old man's
+malady. There was that in the aristocratic looks and belongings
+of his patient, and in the very fashionable address to
+which the message to his daughter was transmitted, which
+induced in the mind of the learned man a suspicion that a
+&ldquo;swell&rdquo; might have accidentally fallen into his hands.</p>
+
+<p>By this time, thanks to the diligence of Louisa Diaper,
+every one in the house had been made acquainted with the
+fact that the sick man was no other than Sir Reginald Arden,
+Bart., and with many other circumstances of splendour, which
+would not, perhaps, have so well stood the test of inquiry.
+The doctor and his crony, the rector&mdash;simplest of parsons&mdash;who
+had agreed to accompany him in this nocturnal call,
+being a curious man, as gentlemen inhabiting quiet villages
+will be&mdash;these two gentlemen now heard all this lore in the
+hall at a quarter past one, and entered the patient's chamber
+(where they found Miss Arden and her maid) accordingly. In
+whispers, the doctor made to Miss Arden a most satisfactory
+report. He made his cautious inspection of the patient, and
+again had nothing but what was cheery to say.</p>
+
+<p>If the rector had not prided himself upon his manners, and
+had been content with one bow on withdrawing from the lady's
+presence, they would not that night have heard the patient's
+voice&mdash;and perhaps, all things considered, so much the
+better.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I trust, Madam, in the morning Sir Reginald may be quite
+himself again. It is pleasant, Madam, to witness slumber so
+quiet,&rdquo; murmured the clergyman kindly, and in perfect good
+faith. &ldquo;It is the slumber of a tranquil mind&mdash;a spirit at peace
+with itself.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Smiling kindly in making the last stiff bow which accompanied
+these happy words, the good man tilted over a little
+table behind him, on which stood a decanter of claret, a water
+caraffe, and two glasses, all of which came to the ground with
+a crash that wakened the baronet. He sat up straight in his
+bed and stared round, while the clergyman, in consternation,
+exclaimed&mdash;&ldquo;Good gracious!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Hollo! what is it?&rdquo; cried the fierce, thin voice of the
+baronet. &ldquo;What the devil's all this? Where's Crozier?
+<a class="pagenum" name="Page_66" title="66"> </a>
+Where's my servant? Will you, will you, some of you, say
+where the devil I am?&rdquo; He was screaming all this, and
+groping and clutching at either side of the bed's head for a
+bell-rope, intending to rouse the house. &ldquo;Where's Crozier, I
+say? Where the devil's my servant? eh? He's gone by rail,
+ain't he? No one came with me. And where's this? What is
+it? Are you all tongue-tied?&mdash;haven't you a word among you?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>The clergyman had lifted his hands in terror at the harangue
+of the old man of the &ldquo;tranquil mind.&rdquo; Alice had taken his
+thin hand, standing beside him, and was speaking softly in his
+ear. But his prominent brown eyes were fiercely scanning the
+strangers, and the hand which clutched hers was trembling
+with eager fury. &ldquo;Will some of you say what you mean, or
+what you are doing, or where I am?&rdquo; and he screeched
+another sentence or two, that made the old clergyman very uncomfortable.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You arrived here, Sir Reginald, about six hours ago&mdash;extremely
+ill, Sir,&rdquo; said the doctor, who had placed himself
+close to his patient, and spoke with official authority; &ldquo;but
+we have got you all right again, we hope; and this is the
+&lsquo;Royal Oak,&rsquo; the principal hotel of Twyford, on the Dover and
+London road; and my name is Proby.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;And what's all this?&rdquo; cried the baronet, snatching up one
+of the medicine-bottles from the little table by his bed, and
+plucking out the cork and smelling at the fluid. &ldquo;By heaven?&rdquo;
+he screamed, &ldquo;this is the very thing. I could not tell what
+d<span style="white-space: nowrap;">&mdash;&mdash;</span>d taste was in my mouth, and here it is. Why, my
+doctor tells me&mdash;and he knows his business&mdash;it is as much as
+my life's worth to give me anything like&mdash;like that, pah!
+assaf&oelig;tida! If my stomach is upset with this filthy stuff, I
+give myself up! I'm gone. I shall sink, Sir. Was there no
+one here, in the name of Heaven, with a grain of sense or a
+particle of pity, to prevent that beast from literally poisoning
+me? Egad! I'll make my son punish him! I'll make my
+family hang him if I die!&rdquo; There was a quaver of misery in
+his shriek of fury, as if he was on the point of bursting into
+tears. &ldquo;Doctor, indeed! who sent for him? I didn't. Who
+gave him leave to drug me? Upon my soul, I've been
+poisoned. To think of a creature in my state, dependent on
+nourishment every hour, having his digestion destroyed!
+Doctor, indeed! Pay him? Not I, begad,&rdquo; and he clenched
+his sentence with an ugly expletive.</p>
+
+<p>But all this concluding eloquence was lost upon the doctor,
+who had mentioned, in a lofty &ldquo;aside&rdquo; to Miss Arden, that
+&ldquo;unless sent for he should not call again;&rdquo; and with a marked
+politeness to her, and no recognition whatever of the baronet,
+he had taken his departure.</p>
+
+<p><a class="pagenum" name="Page_67" title="67"> </a>&ldquo;I'm not the doctor, Sir Reginald; I'm the clergyman,&rdquo; said
+the Reverend Peter Sprott, gravely and timidly, for the
+prominent brown eyes were threatening him.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Oh, the clergyman! Oh, I see. Will you be so good as
+to ring the bell, please, and excuse a sick man giving you that
+trouble. And is there a post-office near this?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Yes, Sir&mdash;close by.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;This is you, Alice? I'm glad you're here. You must
+write a letter this moment&mdash;a note to your brother. Don't be
+afraid&mdash;I'm better, a good deal&mdash;and tell the people, when they
+come, to get me some strong soup this moment, and&mdash;good
+evening, Sir, or good-night, or morning, or whatever it is,&rdquo; he
+added, to the clergyman, who was taking his leave. &ldquo;What
+o'clock is it?&rdquo; he asked Alice. &ldquo;Well, you'll write to your
+brother to meet me at Mortlake. I have not seen him, now,
+for how many years? I forget. He's in town, is he? Very
+good. And tell him it is perhaps the last time, and I expect
+him. I suppose he'll come. Say at a quarter past nine in the
+evening. The sooner it's over the better. I expect no good of
+it; it is only just to try. And I shall leave this early&mdash;immediately
+after breakfast&mdash;as quickly as we can. I hate
+it!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<div class="image-center chapter-end">
+<img src="images/ep03.png" width="197" height="121" alt=""/>
+</div>
+
+<div class="image-center chapter-beginning"><a class="pagenum" name="Page_68" title="68"> </a>
+<img src="images/ch02.png" width="466" height="125" alt=""/>
+</div>
+
+<h2 class="no-break">CHAPTER XIII.<br/>
+<small>ON THE ROAD.</small></h2>
+
+<div><img class="drop-cap" src="images/drop_n.png" width="72" height="72" alt=""/></div>
+
+<p class="drop-cap"><span class="upper-case">Next</span> morning the baronet was in high good-humour.
+He has written a little reminder to Lord Wynderbroke.
+He will expect him at Mortlake the day he
+named, to dinner. He remembers he promised to
+stay the night. He can offer him, still, as good a game of
+piquet as he is likely to find in his club; and he almost feels
+that he has no excuse but a selfish one, for exacting the performance
+of a promise which gave him a great deal of pleasure.
+His daughter, who takes care of her old father, will make their
+tea and&mdash;<i lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">voilà tout!</i></p>
+
+<p>Sir Reginald was in particularly good spirits as he sent the
+waiter to the post-office with this little note. He thinks within
+himself that he never saw Alice in such good looks. His
+selfish elation waxes quite affectionate, and Alice never remembered
+him so good-natured. She <ins title="don't">doesn't</ins> know what to
+make of it exactly; but it pleases her, and she looks all the
+more brilliant.</p>
+
+<p>And now these foreign birds, whom a chance storm has
+thrown upon the hospitality of the &ldquo;Royal Oak,&rdquo; are up and
+away again. The old baronet and his pretty daughter, Louisa
+Diaper sitting behind, in cloaks and rugs, and the footman in
+front, to watch the old man's signals, are whirling dustily along
+with a team of four horses; for Sir Reginald's arrangements
+are never economical, and a pair would have brought them
+over these short stages and home very nearly as fast. Lady
+May's carriage pleases the old man, and helps his transitory
+good-humour: it is so much more luxurious than the jolty
+hired vehicle in which he had arrived.</p>
+
+<p>Alice is permitted her thoughts to herself. The baronet has
+taken his into companionship, and is leaning back in his
+<a class="pagenum" name="Page_69" title="69"> </a>
+corner, with his eyes closed; and his pursed mouth, with its
+wonderful involution of wrinkles round it, is working unconsciously;
+and his still dark eyebrows, now elevating, now
+knitting themselves, indicate the same activity of brain.</p>
+
+<p>With a silent look now and then at his face&mdash;for she need
+not ask whether Sir Reginald wants anything, or would like
+anything changed, for the baronet needs no inquiries of this
+kind, and makes people speedily acquainted with his wants and
+fancies&mdash;she occupies her place beside him, for the most part
+looking out listlessly from the window, and thinks of many
+things. The baronet opens his eyes at last, and says abruptly,</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Charming prospect! Charming day! You'll be glad to
+hear, Alice, I'm not tired; I'm making my journey wonderfully!
+It is so pretty, and the sun so cheery. You are looking so well,
+it is quite a pleasure to look at you&mdash;charming! You'll come to
+me at Mortlake for a few days, to take care of me, you know. I
+shall go on to Buxton in a week or so, and you can return to
+Lady May to-night, and come to Mortlake shortly; and your
+brother, graceless creature! I suppose, will come to-night. I
+expect nothing from his visit, absolutely. He has been nothing
+to me but a curse all his life. I suppose, if there's justice anywhere,
+he'll have his deserts some day. But for the present I
+put him aside&mdash;I sha'n't speak of him. He disturbs me.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>They drove through London over Westminster Bridge, the
+servant thinking that they were to go to Lady May Penrose's
+in Chester Terrace. It was the first time that day, since he had
+talked of his son, that a black shadow crossed Sir Reginald's
+face. He shrunk back. He drew up his Chinese silk muffler
+over his chin. He was fearful lest some prowling beak or eagle-eyed
+Jew should see his face, for Sir Reginald was just then in
+danger. Glancing askance under the peak of his travelling cap,
+he saw Talkington, with Wynderbroke on his arm, walking to
+their club. How free and fearless those happy mortals looked!
+How the old man yearned for his chat and his glass of wine at
+B<span style="white-space: nowrap;">&mdash;&mdash;</span>'s, and his afternoon whist at W<span style="white-space: nowrap;">&mdash;&mdash;</span>'s! How he chafed
+and blasphemed inwardly at the invisible obstacle that insurmountably
+interposed, and with what a fiery sting of malice he
+connected the idea of his son with the fetters that bound him!</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You know that man?&rdquo; said Sir Reginald sharply, as he saw
+Mr. Longcluse raise his hat to her as they passed.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Yes, I've met him pretty often at Lady May's.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;H'm! I had not an idea that anyone knew him. He's a
+man who might be of use to one.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Here followed a silence.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I thought, papa, you wished to go direct to Mortlake, and I
+don't think this is the way,&rdquo; suggested Alice.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Eh? heigho! You're right, child; upon my life, I was not
+<a class="pagenum" name="Page_70" title="70"> </a>
+thinking,&rdquo; said Sir Reginald, at the same time signalling
+vehemently to the servant, who, having brought the carriage to
+a stand-still, came round to the window.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;We don't stop anywhere in town, we go straight to Mortlake
+Hall. It is beyond Islington. Have you ever been there?
+Well, you can tell them how to reach it.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>And Sir Reginald placed himself again in his corner. They
+had not started early, and he had frequently interrupted their
+journey on various whimsical pretexts. He remembered one
+house, for instance, where there was a stock of the very best
+port he had ever tasted, and then he stopped and went in, and
+after a personal interview with the proprietor, had a bottle
+opened, and took two glasses, and so paid at the rate of half a
+guinea each for them. It had been an interrupted journey, late
+begun, and the sun was near its setting by the time they had
+got a mile beyond the outskirts of Islington, and were drawing
+near the singular old house where their journey was to end.</p>
+
+<p>Always with a melancholy presentiment, Alice approached
+Mortlake Hall. But never had she felt it more painfully than now.
+If there be in such misgivings a prophetic force, was it to be
+justified by the coming events of Miss Arden's life, which were
+awfully connected with that scene?</p>
+
+<p>They passed a quaint little village of tall stone houses, among
+great old trees, with a rural and old-world air, and an ancient
+inn, with the sign of &ldquo;Guy of Warwick&rdquo;&mdash;an inn of which we
+shall see more by-and-by&mdash;faded, and like the rest of this
+little town, standing under the shadow of old trees. They
+entered the road, dark with double hedge-rows, and with a moss-grown
+park-wall on the right, in which, in a little time, they
+reached a great iron gate with fluted pillars. They drove up a
+broad avenue, flanked with files of gigantic trees, and showing
+grand old timber also upon the park-like grounds beyond. The
+dusky light of evening fell upon these objects, and the many
+windows, the cornices, and the smokeless chimneys of a great
+old house. You might have fancied yourself two hundred miles
+away from London.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You don't stay here to-night, Alice. I wish you to return to
+Lady May, and give her the note I am going to write. You and
+she come out to dine here on Friday. If she makes a difficulty,
+I rely on you to persuade her. I must have someone to meet
+Mr. Longcluse. I have reasons. Also, I shall ask my brother
+David, and his ward Miss Maubray. I knew her father: he was
+a fool, with his head full of romance, and he married a very pretty
+woman who was a devil, without a shilling on earth. The girl is
+an orphan, and David is her guardian, and he would like any
+little attention we can show her. And we shall ask Vivian
+Darnley also. And that will make a very suitable party.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p><a class="pagenum" name="Page_71" title="71"> </a>Sir Reginald wrote his note, talking at intervals.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You see, I want Lady May to come here again in a day or
+two, to stay only for two or three days. She can go into town
+and remain there all day, if she likes it. But Wynderbroke will
+be coming, and I should not like him to find us quite deserted;
+and she said she'd come, and she may as well do it now as
+another time. David lives so quietly, we are sure of him; and I
+commit May Penrose to you. You must persuade her to come.
+It will be cruel to disappoint. Here is her note&mdash;I will send the
+others myself. And now, God bless you, dear Alice!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I am so uncomfortable at the idea of leaving you, papa.&rdquo;
+Her hand was on his arm, and she was looking anxiously into
+his face.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;So of course you should be; only that I am so perfectly
+recovered, that I must have a quiet evening with Richard; and
+I prefer your being in town to-night, and you and May Penrose
+can come out to-morrow. Good-bye, child, God bless you!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<div class="image-center chapter-end">
+<img src="images/ep05.png" width="139" height="116" alt=""/>
+</div>
+
+<div class="image-center chapter-beginning"><a class="pagenum" name="Page_72" title="72"> </a>
+<img src="images/ch04.png" width="464" height="79" alt=""/>
+</div>
+
+<h2 class="no-break">CHAPTER XIV.<br/>
+<small>MR. LONGCLUSE'S BOOT FINDS A TEMPORARY ASYLUM.</small></h2>
+
+<div><img class="drop-cap" src="images/drop_i.png" width="73" height="73" alt=""/></div>
+
+<p class="drop-cap drop-narrow"><span class="upper-case">In</span> the papers of that morning had appeared a voluminous
+report of the proceedings of the coroner's inquest
+which sat upon the body of the deceased Pierre Lebas.
+I shall notice but one passage referring to the evidence
+which, it seems, Mr. Longcluse volunteered. It was given in
+these terms:&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;At this point of the proceedings, Mr. R.&nbsp;D. Longcluse, who
+had arrived about half an hour before, expressed a wish to be
+examined. Mr. Longcluse was accordingly sworn, and deposed
+that he had known the deceased, Pierre Lebas, when he (Mr.
+Longcluse) was little more than a boy, in Paris. Lebas at that
+time let lodgings, which were neat and comfortable, in the Rue
+Victoire. He was a respectable and obliging man. He had
+some other occupation besides that of letting lodgings, but he
+(Mr. Longcluse) could not say what it might be.&rdquo; Then followed
+particulars with which we are already acquainted; and the
+report went on to say: &ldquo;He seemed surprised when witness
+told him that there might be in the room persons of the worst
+character; and he then, in considerable alarm, pointed out to
+him (witness) a man who was and had been following him from
+place to place, he fancied with a purpose. Witness observed the
+man and saw him watch deceased, turning his eyes repeatedly
+upon him. The man had no companions, so far as he could see,
+and affected to be looking in a different direction. It was sideways
+and stealthily that he was watching deceased, who had
+incautiously taken out and counted some of his money in the
+room. Deceased did not conceal from the witness his apprehensions
+from this man, and witness advised him again to place
+his money in the hands of some friend who had a secure pocket,
+and recommended, in case his friend should object to take so
+<a class="pagenum" name="Page_73" title="73"> </a>
+much money into his care&mdash;Lebas having said he had a large
+sum about him&mdash;under the gaze of the public, that he should
+make the transfer in the smoking-room, the situation of which he
+described to him. Mr. Longcluse then proceeded to give an
+exact description of the man who had been dogging the
+<ins title="decased">deceased</ins>; the particulars were as follows:&mdash;&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Here I arrest my quotation, for I need not recapitulate the
+details of the tall man's features, dress, and figure, which are
+already familiar to the reader.</p>
+
+<hr class="thought-break"/>
+
+<p>In a court off High Holborn there was, and perhaps is, a sort
+of coffee-shop, in the small drawing-rooms of which, thrown
+into one room, are many small and homely tables, with penny
+and halfpenny papers, and literature with startling woodcuts.
+Here working mechanics and others snatch a very early breakfast,
+and take their dinners, and such as can afford time
+loiter their half-hour or so over this agreeable literature. One
+penny morning paper visited that place of refection, for three
+hours daily, and then flitted away to keep an appointment elsewhere.
+It was this dull time in that peculiar establishment&mdash;namely,
+about nine o'clock in the morning&mdash;and there was but
+one listless guest in the room. It was the identical tall man
+in question. His flat feet were planted on the bare floor, and he
+leaned a shoulder against the window-case, with a plug of
+tobacco in his jaw, as, at his leisure, he was getting through the
+coroner's inquest on Pierre Lebas. He was smiling with half-closed
+eyes and considerable enjoyment, up to the point where
+Mr. Longcluse's evidence was suddenly directed upon him.
+There was a twitching scowl, as if from a sudden pain; but his
+smile continued from habit, although his face grew paler. This
+man, whose name was Paul Davies, winked hard with his left
+eye, as he got on, and read fiercely with his right. His face was
+whiter now, and his smile less easy. It was a queerish situation,
+he thought, and might lead to consequences.</p>
+
+<p>There was a little bit of a looking-glass, picked up at some
+rubbishy auction, as old as the hills, with some tarnished gilding
+about it, in the narrow bit of wall between the windows. Paul
+Davies could look at nothing quite straight. He looked now at
+himself in this glass, but it was from the corners of his eyes,
+askance, and with his sly, sleepy depression of the eye-lids, as if
+he had not overmuch confidence even in his own shadow. He
+folded the morning paper, and laid it, with formal precision, on
+the table, as if no one had disturbed it; and taking up the
+<cite>Halfpenny Illustrated Broadsheet of Fiction</cite>, and with it
+flourishing in his hand by the corner, he called the waiter over
+the bannister, and paid his reckoning, and went off swiftly to
+his garret in another court, a quarter of a mile nearer to Saint
+<a class="pagenum" name="Page_74" title="74"> </a>
+Paul's&mdash;taking an obscure and devious course through back-lanes
+and sequestered courts.</p>
+
+<p>When he got up to his garret, Mr. Davies locked his door and
+sat down on the side of his creaking settle-bed, and, in his
+playful phrase, &ldquo;put on his considering cap.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;That's a dangerous cove, that Mr. Longcluse. He's done a
+bold stroke. And now it's him or me, I do suppose&mdash;him or
+me; me or him. Come, Paul, shake up your knowledge-box;
+I'll not lose this cast simple. He's gave a description of me.
+The force will know it. And them feet o' mine, they <em>are</em> a bit
+flat: but any chap can make a pair of insteps with a penn'orth
+o' rags. I wouldn't care tuppence if it wasn't for them pock-marks.
+There's no managing them. A scar or a wart you may
+touch over with paint and sollible gutta-percha, or pink wafers
+and gelatine, but pock-marks is too many for any man.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>He was looking with some anxiety in the triangular fragment
+of looking-glass&mdash;balanced on a nail in the window-case&mdash;at his
+features.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I can take off them whiskers; and the long neck he makes
+so much of, if it was as long as an oystrich, with fourpenn'orth
+of cotton waste and a cabbage-net, I'd make a bull of it, and
+run my shoulders up to my ears. I'll take the whiskers off,
+anyhow. That's no treason; and he mayn't identify me. If
+I'm not had up for a fortnight my hair would be grew a bit, and
+that would be a lift. But a fellow must think twice before he
+begins disguisin'. Juries smells a rat. Howsomever, a cove
+may shave, and no harm done; or his hair may grow a bit, and
+how can he help it? Longcluse knows what he's about. He's
+a sharp lad, but for all that Paul Davies 'ill sweat him yet.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Davies turned the button of his old-fashioned window,
+and let it down. He shut out his two scarlet geraniums, which
+accompanied him in all his changes from one lodging to
+another.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Suppose he tries the larceny&mdash;that's another thing he may
+do, seeing what my lay is. It wouldn't do to lose that thing;
+no more would it answer to let them find it.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>This last idea seemed to cause Paul Davies a good deal of serious
+uneasiness. He began looking about at the walls, low down
+near the skirting, and up near the ceiling, tapping now and then
+with his knuckles, and sounding the plaster as a doctor would
+the chest of a wheezy patient. He was not satisfied. He
+scratched his head, and fiddled with his ear, and plucked his
+short nose dubiously, and winked hard at his geraniums through
+the window.</p>
+
+<p>Paul Davies knew that the front garret was not let. He
+opened his door and listened. Then he entered that room. I
+think he had a notion of changing his lodgings, if only he could
+<a class="pagenum" name="Page_75" title="75"> </a>
+find what he wanted. That was such a hiding-place as professional
+seekers were not likely to discover. But he could not
+satisfy himself.</p>
+
+<p>A thought struck him, however, and he went into the lobby
+again; he got on a chair and pushed open the skylight, and out
+went Mr. Davies on the roof. He looked and poked about here.
+He looked to the neighbouring roofs, lest any eye should be
+upon him; but there was no one. A maid hanging clothes
+upon a line, on a sort of balcony, midway down the next house,
+was singing, &ldquo;The Ratcatcher's Daughter,&rdquo; he thought rather
+sweetly&mdash;so well, indeed, that he listened for two whole verses&mdash;but
+that did not signify.</p>
+
+<p>Paul Davies kneeled down, and loosed and removed, one
+after the other, several slates near the lead gutter, between the
+gables; and, having made a sufficient opening in the roof for
+his purpose, he returned, let himself down lightly through the
+skylight, entered his room, and locked himself up. He then
+unlocked his trunk and took from under his clothes, where it
+lay, a French boot&mdash;the veritable boot of Mr. Longcluse&mdash;which,
+for greater security, he popped under the coarse coverlet of his
+bed. He next took from his trunk a large piece of paper which,
+being unfolded at the window, disclosed a rude drawing with a
+sentence or two underneath, and three signatures, with a date
+preceding.</p>
+
+<p>Having read this document over twice or thrice, with a rather
+menacing smile, he rolled it up in brown paper and thrust it
+into the foot of the boot, which he popped under the coverlet
+and bolster. He then opened his door wide. Too long a
+silence might possibly have seemed mysterious, and called up
+prying eyes, so, while he filled his pipe with tobacco, he
+whistled, &ldquo;Villikins and his Dinah&rdquo; lustily. He was very
+cautious about this boot and paper. He got on his great-coat
+and felt hat, and took his pipe and some matches&mdash;the enjoying
+a quiet smoke without troubling others with the perfume was a
+natural way of accounting for his visit to the roof. He listened.
+He slipped his boot and its contents into his capacious great-coat
+pocket, with a rag of old carpet tied round it; and then,
+whistling still cheerily, he mounted the roof again, and placed
+the precious parcel within the roof, which he, having some skill
+as a slater, proceeded carefully and quickly to restore.</p>
+
+<p>Down came Mr. Davies now, and shaved off his whiskers.
+Then he walked out, with a bundle consisting of the coat,
+waistcoat, and blue necktie he had worn on the evening of
+Lebas's murder. He was going to pay a visit to his mother, a
+venerable greengrocer, who lived near the Tower of London;
+and on his way he pledged these articles at two distinct and
+very remote pawnbrokers', intending on his return to release,
+<a class="pagenum" name="Page_76" title="76"> </a>
+with the proceeds, certain corresponding articles of his wardrobe,
+now in ward in another establishment. These measures
+of obliteration he was taking quietly. His visit to his mother, a
+very honest old woman, who believed him to be the most
+virtuous, agreeable, and beautiful young man extant, was made
+with a very particular purpose.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Well, Ma'am,&rdquo; he said, in reply to the old lady's hospitable
+greeting, &ldquo;I won't refuse a pot of half-and-half and a couple of
+eggs, and I'll go so far as a cut or two of bacon, bein' 'ungry;
+and I'm a-goin' to write a paper of some consequence, if you'll
+obleege me with a sheet of foolscap and a pen and ink; and I
+may as well write it while the things is a-gettin' ready, accordin'
+to your kind intentions.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>And accordingly Mr. Paul Davies sat in silence, looking very
+important&mdash;as he always did when stationery was before him&mdash;at
+a small table, in a dark back room, and slowly penned a
+couple of pages of foolscap.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;And now,&rdquo; said he, producing the document after his repast,
+&ldquo;will you be so good, Ma'am, as to ask Mr. Sildyke and Mrs.
+Rumble to come down and witness my signing of this, which
+I mean to leave it in your hands and safe keepin', under lock
+and key, until I take it away, or otherwise tells you what you
+must do with it. It is a police paper, Ma'am, and may be
+wanted any time. But you keep it dark till I tells you.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>This settled, Mr. Sildyke and Mrs. Rumble arrived obligingly;
+and Paul Davies, with an adroit wink at his mother&mdash;who was a
+little shocked and much embarrassed by the ruse, being a truth-loving
+woman&mdash;told them that here was his last will and
+testament, and he wanted only that they should witness his
+signature; which, with the date, was duly accomplished. Paul
+Davies was, indeed, a man of that genius which requires to
+proceed by stratagem, cherishing an abhorrence of straight
+lines, and a picturesque love of the curved and angular. So, if
+Mr. Longcluse was doing his duty at one end of the town, Mr.
+Davies, at the other, was by no means wanting in activity, or,
+according to the level of his intellect and experience, in
+wisdom.</p>
+
+<p>We have recurred to these scenes in which Mr. Paul Davies
+figures, because it was indispensable to the reader's right understanding
+of some events that follow. Be so good, then, as to
+find Sir Reginald exactly where I left him, standing on the steps
+of Mortlake Hall. His daughter would have stayed, but he
+would not hear of it. He stood on the steps, and smirked a
+yellow and hollow farewell, waving his hand as the carriage
+drove away. Then he turned and entered the lofty hall, in
+which the light was already failing.</p>
+
+<p>Sir Reginald did not like the trouble of mounting the stairs.
+<a class="pagenum" name="Page_77" title="77"> </a>
+His bed-room and sitting-room were on a level with the hall.
+As soon as he came in, the gloom of his old prison-house began
+to overshadow him, and his momentary cheer and good-humour
+disappeared.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Where is Tansey? I suppose she's in her bed, or grumbling
+in toothache,&rdquo; he snarled to the footman. &ldquo;And where the
+devil's Crozier? I have the fewest and the worst servants, I
+believe, of any man in England.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>He poked open the door of his sitting-room with the point of
+his walking-stick.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Nothing ready, I dare swear,&rdquo; he quavered, and shot a
+peevish and fiery glance round it.</p>
+
+<p>Things were not looking quite so badly as he expected.
+There was just the little bit of expiring fire in the grate which
+he liked, even in summer. His sealskin slippers were on the
+hearth-rug, and his easy-chair was pushed into its proper place.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Ha! Crozier, at last! Here, get off this coat, and these
+mufflers, and<span style="white-space: nowrap;">&mdash;&mdash;</span> I was d<span style="white-space: nowrap;">&mdash;&mdash;</span>d near dying in that vile chaise.
+I don't remember how they got me into the inn. There, don't
+mind condoling. You're privileged, but don't do that. As
+near dying as possible&mdash;rather an awkward business for useless
+old servants here, if I had. I'll dress in the next room. My
+son's coming this evening. Admit him, mind. I'll see him.
+How long is it since we met last? Two years, egad! And
+Lord Wynderbroke has his dinner here&mdash;I don't know what
+day, but some day very soon&mdash;Friday, I think; and don't let
+the people here go to sleep. Remember!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>And so on, with his old servant, he talked, and sneered, and
+snarled, and established himself in his sitting-room, with his reviews,
+and his wine, and his newspapers.</p>
+
+<p>Night fell over dark Mortlake Hall, and over the blazing city
+of London. Sir Reginald listened, every now and then, for the
+approach of his son. Talk as he might, he did expect something&mdash;and
+a great deal&mdash;from the coming interview. Two
+years without a home, without an allowance, with no provision
+except a hundred and fifty pounds a year, might well have tamed
+that wilful beast!</p>
+
+<p>With the tremor of acute suspense, the old man watched and
+listened. Was it a good or an ill sign, his being so late?</p>
+
+<p>The city of London, with its still roaring traffic and blaze of
+gas-lamps, did not contrast more powerfully with the silent
+shadows of the forest-grounds of Mortlake, than did the
+drawing-room of Lady May Penrose, brilliant with a profusion of
+light, and resonant with the gay conversation of inmates, all
+disposed to enjoy themselves, with the dim and vast room in
+which Sir Reginald sat silently communing with his own dismal
+thoughts.</p>
+
+<p><a class="pagenum" name="Page_78" title="78"> </a>Nothing so contagious as gaiety. Alice Arden, laughingly,
+was &ldquo;making her book&rdquo; rather prematurely in dozens of pairs
+of gloves, for the Derby. Lord Wynderbroke was deep in it.
+So was Vivian Darnley.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Your brother and I are to take the reins, turn about, Lady
+May says. He's a crack whip. He's better than I, I think,&rdquo;
+said Vivian to Alice Arden.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You mustn't upset us, though. I am so afraid of you crack
+whips!&rdquo; said Alice. &ldquo;Nor let your horses run away with us;
+I've been twice run away with already.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I don't the least wonder at Miss Arden's being run away
+with very often,&rdquo; said Lord Wynderbroke, with all the archness
+of a polite man of fifty.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Very prettily said, Wynderbroke,&rdquo; smiled Lady May. &ldquo;And
+where is your brother? I thought he'd have turned up to-night,&rdquo;
+asked she of Alice.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I quite forgot. He was to see papa this evening. They
+wanted to talk over something together.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Oh, I see!&rdquo; said Lady May, and she became thoughtful.</p>
+
+<p>What was the exact nature of the interest which good Lady
+May undoubtedly took in Richard Arden? Was it quite so
+motherly as years might warrant? At that time people laughed
+over it, and were curious to see the progress of the comedy.
+Here was light and gaiety&mdash;light within, lamps without;
+spirited talk in young anticipation of coming days of pleasure;
+and outside the roll of carriage-wheels making a humming bass
+to this merry treble.</p>
+
+<hr class="thought-break"/>
+
+<p>Over the melancholy precincts of Mortlake the voiceless
+darkness of night descends with unmitigated gloom. The
+centre&mdash;the brain of this dark place&mdash;is the house: and in a
+large dim room, near the smouldering fire, sits the image that
+haunts rather than inhabits it.</p>
+
+<div class="image-center chapter-end">
+<img src="images/ep14.png" width="280" height="60" alt=""/>
+</div>
+
+<div class="image-center chapter-beginning"><a class="pagenum" name="Page_79" title="79"> </a>
+<img src="images/ch15.png" width="456" height="110" alt=""/>
+</div>
+
+<h2 class="no-break">CHAPTER XV.<br/>
+<small>FATHER AND SON.</small></h2>
+
+<div><img class="drop-cap" src="images/drop_s.png" width="73" height="72" alt=""/></div>
+
+<p class="drop-cap"><span class="upper-case">Sir Reginald Arden</span> had fallen into a doze, as
+he sat by the fire with his <cite lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">Revue des Deux Mondes</cite>,
+slipping between his finger and thumb, on his knees.
+He was recalled by Crozier's voice, and looking up,
+he saw, standing near the door, as if in some slight hesitation,
+a figure not seen for two years before.</p>
+
+<p>For a moment Sir Reginald doubted his only half-awakened
+senses. Was that handsome oval face, with large, soft eyes,
+with such brilliant lips, and the dark-brown moustache, so fine,
+and silken, that had never known a razor, an unsubstantial portrait
+hung in the dim air, or his living son? There were
+perplexity and surprise in the old man's stare.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I should have been here before, Sir, but your letter did not
+reach me until an hour ago,&rdquo; said Richard Arden.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;By heaven! Dick? And so you came! I believe I was
+asleep. Give me your hand. I hope, Dick, we may yet end
+this miserable quarrel happily. Father and son can have no
+real interests apart.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Sir Reginald Arden extended his thin hand, and smiled invitingly
+but rather darkly on his son. Graceful and easy this
+young man was, and yet embarrassed, as he placed his hand
+within his father's.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You will take something, Dick, won't you?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Nothing, Sir, thanks.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Sir Reginald was stealthily reading his face. At last he began
+circuitously&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I've a little bit of news to tell you about Alice. How long
+shall I allow you to guess what it is?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p><a class="pagenum" name="Page_80" title="80"> </a>&ldquo;I'm the worst guesser in the world&mdash;pray don't wait for me,
+Sir.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Well, I have in my desk there&mdash;would you mind putting it
+on the table here?&mdash;a letter from Wynderbroke. You know
+him?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Yes, a little.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Well, Wynderbroke writes&mdash;the letter arrived only an hour
+ago&mdash;to ask my leave to marry your sister, if she will consent;
+and he says all he will do, which is very handsome&mdash;very
+generous indeed. Wait a moment. Yes, here it is. Read
+that.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Richard Arden did read the letter, with open eyes and
+breathless interest. The old man's eyes were upon him as he
+did so.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Well, Richard, what do you think?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;There can be but one opinion about it. Nothing can be more
+handsome. Everything suitable. I only hope that Alice will
+not be foolish.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;She sha'n't be that, I'll take care,&rdquo; said the old man, locking
+down his desk again upon the letter.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;It might possibly be as well, Sir, to prepare her a little at
+first. I may possibly be of some little use, and so may Lady
+May. I only mean that it might hardly be expedient to make it
+from the first a matter of authority, because she has romantic
+ideas, and she is spirited.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I'll sleep upon it. I sha'n't see her again till to-morrow
+evening. She does not care about anyone in particular, I
+suppose?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Not that I know of,&rdquo; said Richard.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You'll find it will all be right&mdash;it <em>will</em>&mdash;all right. It <em>shall</em>
+be right,&rdquo; said Sir Reginald. And then there was a silence.
+He was meditating the other business he had in hand, and
+again circuitously he proceeded.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;What's going on at the opera? Who is your great danseuse
+at present?&rdquo; inquired the baronet, with a glimmer of a leer. &ldquo;I
+haven't seen a ballet for more than six years. And why? I
+needn't tell <ins title="yon">you</ins>. You know the miserable life I lead. Egad!
+there are fellows placed everywhere to watch me. There would
+be an execution in this house this night, if the miserable tables
+and chairs were not my brother David's property. Upon my
+life, Craven, my attorney, had to serve two notices on the sheriff
+in one term, to caution him not to sell your uncle's furniture for
+my debts. I shouldn't have had a joint-stool to sit down on, if
+it hadn't been for that. And I had to get out of the railway-carriage,
+by heaven! for fear of arrest, and come home&mdash;if
+home I can call this ruin&mdash;by posting all the way, except a few
+miles. I did not dare to tell Craven I was coming back. I
+<a class="pagenum" name="Page_81" title="81"> </a>
+wrote from Twyford, where I&mdash;I&mdash;took a fancy to sleep last
+night, to no human being but yourself. My comfort is that they
+and all the world believe that I'm still in France. It is a
+pleasant state of things!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I am grieved, Sir, to think you suffer so much.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I know it. I knew it. I know you are, Dick,&rdquo; said the old
+man eagerly. &ldquo;And my life is a perfect hell. I can nowhere
+in England find rest for the sole of my foot. I am suffering
+perpetually the most miserable mortifications, and the tortures
+of the damned. I know you are sorry. It can't be pleasant to
+you to see your father the miserable outcast, and fugitive, and
+victim he so often is. And I'll say distinctly&mdash;I'll say at once&mdash;for
+it was with this one purpose I sent for you&mdash;that no son with
+a particle of human feeling, with a grain of conscience, or an
+atom of principle, could endure to see it, when he knew that by
+a stroke of his pen he could undo it all, and restore a miserable
+parent to life and liberty! Now, Richard, you have my mind.
+I have concealed nothing, and I'm sure, Dick, I know, I <em>know</em>
+you won't see your father perish by inches, rather than sign the
+warrant for his liberation. For God's sake, Dick, my boy speak
+out! Have you the heart to reject your miserable father's
+petition? Do you wish me to kneel to you? I love you, Dick,
+although you don't admit it. I'll kneel to you, Dick&mdash;I'll kneel
+to you. I'll go on my knees to you.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>His hands were clasped; he made a movement. His great
+prominent eyes were fixed on Richard Arden's face, which he
+was reading with a great deal of eagerness, it is true, but also
+with a dark and narrow shrewdness.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Good heaven, Sir, don't stir, I implore! If you do, I must
+leave the room,&rdquo; said Richard, embarrassed to a degree that
+amounted to agitation. &ldquo;And I must tell you, Sir&mdash;it is very
+painful, but, I could not help it, necessity drove me to it&mdash;if I
+were ever so desirous, it is out of my power now. I have dealt
+with my reversion. I have executed a deed.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You have been with the Jews!&rdquo; cried the old man, jumping
+to his feet. &ldquo;You have been dealing, by way of <i lang="la" xml:lang="la">post obit</i>,
+with my estate!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Richard Arden looked down. Sir Reginald was as nearly
+white as his yellow tint would allow; his large eyes were
+gleaming fire&mdash;he looked as if he would have snatched the
+poker, and brained his son.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;But what could I do, Sir? I had no other resource. I
+was forbidden your house; I had no money.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You lie, Sir!&rdquo; yelled the old man, with a sudden flash,
+and a hammer of his thin trembling fist on the table. &ldquo;You
+had a hundred and fifty pounds a year of your mother's.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;But that, Sir, could not possibly support any one. I was
+<a class="pagenum" name="Page_82" title="82"> </a>
+compelled to act as I did. You really, Sir, left me no
+choice.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Now, now, now, now, now! you're not to run away with
+the thing, you're not to run away with it; you sha'n't run away
+with it, Sir. You could have made a submission, you know
+you could. I was open to be reconciled at any time&mdash;always
+too ready. You had only to do as you ought to have done, and
+I'd have received you with open arms; you know I would&mdash;I
+<em>would</em>&mdash;you had only to unite our interests in the estates, and
+I'd have done everything to make you happy, and you know it.
+But you have taken the step&mdash;you have done it, and it is
+irrevocable. You have done it, and you've ruined me; and I
+pray to God you have ruined yourself!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>With every sinew quivering, the old man was pulling the
+bell-rope violently with his left hand. Over his shoulder, on
+his son, he glanced almost maniacally. &ldquo;Turn him out!&rdquo; he
+screamed to Crozier, stamping; &ldquo;put him out by the collar.
+Shut the door upon him, and lock it; and if he ever dares to call
+here again, slam it in his face. I have done with him for <ins title="ever?">ever!</ins>&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Richard Arden had already left the room, and this closing
+passage was lost on him. But he heard the old man's voice as
+he walked along the corridor, and it was still in his ears as he
+passed the hall-door; and, running down the steps, he jumped
+into his cab. Crozier held the cab-door open, and wished Mr.
+Richard a kind good-night. He stood on the steps to see the
+last of the cab as it drove down the shadowy avenue and was
+lost in gloom. He sighed heavily. What a broken family it
+was! He was an old servant, born on their northern estate&mdash;loyal,
+and somewhat rustic&mdash;and, certainly, had the baronet
+been less in want of money, not exactly the servant he would
+have chosen.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;The old gentleman cannot last long,&rdquo; he said, as he
+followed the sound of the retreating wheels with his gaze,
+&ldquo;and then Master Richard will take his turn, and what one
+began the other will finish. It is all up with the Ardens. Sir
+Reginald ruined, Master Harry murdered, and Master David
+turned tradesman! There's a curse on the old house.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>He heard the baronet's tread faintly, pacing the floor in
+agitation, as he passed his door; and when he reached the
+housekeeper's room, that old lady, Mrs. Tansey, was alone and
+all of a tremble, standing at the door. Before her dim staring
+eyes had risen an oft-remembered scene: the ivy-covered gatehouse
+at Mortlake Hall; the cold moon glittering down
+through the leafless branches; the grey horse on its side
+across the gig-shaft, and the two villains&mdash;one rifling and the
+other murdering poor Henry Arden, the baronet's gay and
+reckless brother.</p>
+
+<p><a class="pagenum" name="Page_83" title="83"> </a>&ldquo;Lord, Mr. Crozier! what's crossed Sir Reginald?&rdquo; she
+said huskily, grasping the servant's wrist with her lean hand.
+&ldquo;Master Dick, I do suppose. I thought he was to come
+no more. They quarrel always. I'm like to faint, Mr.
+Crozier.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Sit ye down, Mrs. Tansey, Ma'am; you should take just a
+thimbleful of something. What has frightened <ins title="you!">you?</ins>&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;There's a scritch in Sir Reginald's voice&mdash;mercy on us!&mdash;when
+he raises it so; it is the very cry of poor Master Harry&mdash;his
+last cry, when the knife pierced him. I'll never forget
+it!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>The old woman clasped her fingers over her eyes, and shook
+her head slowly.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Well, that's over and ended this many a day, and past
+cure. We need not fret ourselves no more about it&mdash;'tis thirty
+years since.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Two-and-twenty the day o' the Longden steeple-chase.
+I've a right to remember it.&rdquo; She closed her eyes again.
+&ldquo;Why can't they keep apart?&rdquo; she resumed. &ldquo;If father and
+son can't look one another in the face without quarrelling,
+better they should turn their backs on one another for life.
+Why need they come under one roof? The world's wide
+enough.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;So it is&mdash;and no good meeting and argufying; for Mr.
+Dick will never open the estate,&rdquo; remarked Mr. Crozier.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;And more shame for him!&rdquo; said Mrs. Tansey. &ldquo;He's
+breaking his father's heart. It troubles him more,&rdquo; she added
+in a changed tone, &ldquo;I'm thinking, than ever poor Master
+Harry's death did. There's none living of his kith or kin
+cares about it now but Master David. He'll never let it rest
+while he lives.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;He <em>may</em> let it rest, for he'll never make no hand of it,&rdquo; said
+Crozier. &ldquo;Would you object, Ma'am, to my making a glass of
+something hot?&mdash;you're gone very pale.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Tansey assented, and the conversation grew more
+comfortable. And so the night closed over the passions and
+the melancholy of Mortlake Hall.</p>
+
+<div class="image-center chapter-end">
+<img src="images/ep09.png" width="218" height="46" alt=""/>
+</div>
+
+<div class="image-center chapter-beginning"><a class="pagenum" name="Page_84" title="84"> </a>
+<img src="images/ch06.png" width="442" height="85" alt=""/>
+</div>
+
+<h2 class="no-break">CHAPTER XVI.<br/>
+<small>A MIDNIGHT MEETING.</small></h2>
+
+<div><img class="drop-cap" src="images/drop_a.png" width="72" height="73" alt=""/></div>
+
+<p class="drop-cap"><span class="upper-case">A couple</span> of days passed; and now I must ask you
+to suppose yourself placed, at night, in the centre of
+a vast heath, undulating here and there like a sea
+arrested in a ground-swell, lost in a horizon of
+monotonous darkness all round. Here and there rises a
+scrubby hillock of furze, black and rough as the head of a
+monster. The eye aches as it strains to discover objects or
+measure distances over the blurred and black expanse. Here
+stand two trees pretty close together&mdash;one in thick foliage, a
+black elm, with a funereal and plume-like stillness, and blotting
+out many stars with its gigantic canopy; the other, about fifty
+paces off, a withered and half barkless fir, with one white
+branch left, stretching forth like the arm of a gibbet. Nearly
+under this is a flat rock, with one end slanting downwards, and
+half buried in the ferns and the grass that grow about that
+spot. One other fir stands a little way off, smaller than these
+two trees, which in daylight are conspicuous far away as landmarks
+on a trackless waste. Overhead the stars are blinking,
+but the desolate landscape lies beneath in shapeless obscurity,
+like drifts of black mist melting together into one wide vague
+sea of darkness that forms the horizon. Over this comes, in
+fitful moanings, a melancholy wind. The eye stretches vainly
+to define the objects that fancy sometimes suggests, and the
+ear is strained to discriminate the sounds, real or unreal, that
+seem to mingle in the uncertain distance.</p>
+
+<p>If you can conjure up all this, and the superstitious freaks
+that in such a situation imagination will play in even the
+hardest and coarsest natures, you have a pretty distinct idea of
+the feelings and surroundings of a tall man who lay that night
+his length under the blighted tree I have mentioned, stretched
+<a class="pagenum" name="Page_85" title="85"> </a>
+on its roots, with his chin supported on his hands, and looking
+vaguely into the darkness. He had been smoking, but his
+pipe was out now, and he had no occupation but that of forming
+pictures on the dark back-ground, and listening to the
+moan and rush of the distant wind, and imagining sometimes a
+voice shouting, sometimes the drumming of a horse's hoofs
+approaching over the plain. There was a chill in the air that
+made this man now and then shiver a little, and get up and
+take a turn back and forward, and stamp sharply as he did so,
+to keep the blood stirring in his legs and feet. Then down he
+would lay again, with his elbows on the ground, and his hands
+propping his chin. Perhaps he brought his head near the
+ground, thinking that thus he could hear distant sounds more
+sharply. He was growing impatient, and well he might.</p>
+
+<p>The moon now began to break through the mist in fierce red
+over the far horizon. A streak of crimson, that glowed without
+illuminating anything, showed through the distant cloud close
+along the level of the heath. Even this was a cheer, like a red
+ember or two in a pitch-dark room. Very far away he thought
+now he heard the tread of a horse. One can hear miles away
+over that level expanse of death-like silence. He pricked his
+ears, he raised himself on his hands, and listened with open
+mouth. He lost the sound, but on leaning his head again to
+the ground, that vast sounding-board carried its vibration once
+more to his ear. It was the canter of a horse upon the heath.
+He was doubtful whether it was approaching, for the sound
+subsided sometimes; but afterwards it was renewed, and
+gradually he became certain that it was coming nearer. And
+now, like a huge, red-hot dome of copper, the moon rose above
+the level strips of cloud that lay upon the horizon of the heath,
+and objects began to reveal themselves. The stunted fir, that
+had looked to the fancy of the solitary watcher like a ghostly
+policeman, with arm and truncheon raised, just starting in
+pursuit, now showed some lesser branches, and was more satisfactorily
+a tree; distances became measurable, though not yet
+accurately, by the eye; and ridges and hillocks caught faintly
+the dusky light, and threw blurred but deep shadows backward.</p>
+
+<p>The tread of the horse approaching had become a gallop as
+the light improved, and horse and horseman were soon visible.
+Paul Davies stood erect, and took up a position a few steps in
+advance of the blighted tree at whose foot he had been
+stretched. The figure, seen against the dusky glare of the
+moon, would have answered well enough for one of those
+highwaymen who in old times made the heath famous. His
+low-crowned felt hat, his short coat with a cape to it, and the
+leather casings, which looked like jack-boots, gave this horseman,
+<a class="pagenum" name="Page_86" title="86"> </a>
+seen in dark outline against the glow, a character not unpicturesque.
+With a sudden strain of the bridle, the gaunt
+rider pulled up before the man who awaited him.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;What are you doing there?&rdquo; said the horseman roughly.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Counting the stars,&rdquo; answered he.</p>
+
+<p>Thus the signs and countersigns were exchanged, and the
+stranger said&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You're alone, Paul Davies, I take it.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;No company but ourselves, mate,&rdquo; answered Davies.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You're up to half a dozen dodges, Paul, and knows how to
+lime a twig; that's your little game, you know. This here tree
+is clean enough, but that 'ere has a hatful o' leaves on it.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I didn't put them there,&rdquo; said Paul, a little sulkily.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Well, no. I do suppose a sight o' you wouldn't exactly put
+a tree in leaf, or a rose-bush in blossom; nor even make wegitables
+grow. More like to blast 'em, like that rum un over your
+head.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;What's up?&rdquo; asked the ex-detective.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Jest this&mdash;there's leaves enough for a bird to roost there, so
+this won't do. Now, then, move on you with me.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>As the gaunt rider thus spoke, his long red beard was blowing
+this way and that in the breeze; and he turned his horse, and
+walked him towards that lonely tree in which, as he lay gazing
+on its black outline, Paul had fancied the shape of a phantom
+policeman.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I don't care a cuss,&rdquo; said Davies. &ldquo;I'm half sorry I came
+a leg to meet yer.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Growlin', eh?&rdquo; said the horseman.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I wish you was as cold as me, and you'd growl a bit, maybe,
+yourself,&rdquo; said Paul. &ldquo;I'm jolly cold.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Cold, are ye?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Cold as a lock-up.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Why didn't ye fetch a line o' the old author with you?&rdquo;
+asked the rider&mdash;meaning brandy.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I had a pipe or two.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Who'd a-guessed we was to have a night like this in
+summer-time?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I do believe it freezes all the year round in this queer
+place.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Would ye like a drop of the South-Sea mountain (gin)?&rdquo;
+said the stranger, producing a flask from his pocket, which Paul
+Davies took with a great deal of good-will, much to the donor's
+content, for he wished to find that gentleman in good-humour
+in the conversation that was to follow.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Drink what's there, mate. D'ye like it?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;It ain't to be by no means sneezed at,&rdquo; said Paul Davies.</p>
+
+<p>The horseman looked back over his shoulder. Paul Davies
+<a class="pagenum" name="Page_87" title="87"> </a>
+remarked that his shoulders were round enough to amount
+almost to a deformity. He and his companion were now a long
+way from the tree whose foliage he feared might afford cover to
+some eavesdropper.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;This tree will answer. I suppose you like a post to clap
+your back to while we are palaverin',&rdquo; said the rider. &ldquo;Make
+a finish of it, Mr. Davies,&rdquo; he continued, as that person presented
+the half-emptied flask to his hand. &ldquo;I'm as hot as
+steam, myself, and I'd rather have a smoke by-and-by.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>He touched the bridle here, and the horse stood still, and the
+rider patted his reeking neck, as he stooped with a shake of his
+ears and a snort, and began to sniff the scant herbage at his
+feet.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I don't mind if I have another pull,&rdquo; said Paul, replenishing
+the goblet that fitted over the bottom of the flask.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Fill it again, and no heel-taps,&rdquo; said his companion.</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Davies sat down, with his mug in his hand, on the
+ground, and his back against the tree. Had there been a
+donkey near, to personate the immortal Dapple, you might
+have fancied, in that uncertain gloom, the Knight and Squire of
+La Mancha overtaken by darkness, and making one of their
+adventurous bivouacs under the boughs of the tree.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;What you saw in the papers three days ago did give you a
+twist, I take it?&rdquo; observed the gentleman on horseback, with a
+grin that made the red bristles on his upper lip curl upwards
+and twist like worms.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I can't tumble to a right guess what you means,&rdquo; said Mr.
+Davies.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Come, Paul, that won't never do. You read every line of
+that there inquest on the French cove at the Saloon, and you
+have by rote every word Mr. Longcluse said. It must be a
+queer turning of the tables, for a clever chap like you to have
+to look slippy, for fear other dogs should lag you.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;'Tain't me that 'ill be looking slippy, as you and me well
+knows; and it's jest because you knows it well you're here. I
+suppose it ain't for love of <em>me</em> quite?&rdquo; sneered Paul Davies.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I don't care a rush for Mr. Longcluse, no more nor I care
+for you; and I see he's goin' where he pleases. He made a
+speech in yesterday's paper, at the meetin' at the Surrey
+Gardens. He was canvassin' for Parliament down in Derbyshire
+a week ago; and he printed a letter to the electors only
+yesterday. He don't care two pins for you.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;A good many rows o' pins, I'm thinkin',&rdquo; sneered Mr.
+Davies.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Thinkin' won't make a loaf, Mr. Davies. Many a man has
+bin too clever, and <em>thought</em> himself into the block-house. You're
+making too fine a game, Mr. Davies; a playin' a bit too much
+<a class="pagenum" name="Page_88" title="88"> </a>
+with edged tools, and fiddlin' a bit too freely with fire. You'll
+burn your fingers, and cut 'em too, do ye mind? unless you be
+advised, and close the game where you stand to win, as I rather
+think you do now.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;So do I, mate,&rdquo; said Paul Davies, who could play at brag
+as well as his neighbour.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I'm on another lay, a safer one by a long sight. My maxim
+is the same as yours, &lsquo;Grab all you can;&rsquo; but <em>I</em> do it safe, d'ye
+see? You are in a fair way to end your days on the twister.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Not if I knows it,&rdquo; said Paul Davies. &ldquo;I'm afeared o' no
+man livin'. Who can say black's the white o' my eye? Do ye
+take me for a child? What do ye take me for?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I take you for the man that robbed and done for the French
+cove in the Saloon. That's the child I take ye for,&rdquo; answered
+the horseman cynically.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You lie! You don't! You know I han't a pig of his
+money, and never hurt a hair of his head. You say that to rile
+me, jest.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Why should I care a cuss whether you're riled or no? Do
+you think I want to get anything out o' yer? I knows everything
+as well as you do yourself. You take me for a queer gill,
+I'm thinking; that's not my lay. I wouldn't wait here while
+you'd walk round my hoss to have every secret you ever
+know'd.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;A queer gill, mayhap. I think I know you,&rdquo; said Mr.
+Davies, archly.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You do, do ye? Well, come, who do you take me for?&rdquo;
+said the stranger, turning towards him, and sitting erect in the
+saddle, with his hand on his thigh, to afford him the amplest
+view of his face and figure.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Then I take you for Mr. Longcluse,&rdquo; said Paul Davies, with
+a wag of his head.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;For Mr. Longcluse!&rdquo; echoed the horseman, with a boisterous
+laugh. &ldquo;Well, <em>there's</em> a guess to tumble to! The worst
+guess I ever heer'd made. Did you ever see him? Why,
+there's not two bones in our two bodies the same length, and
+not two inches of our two faces alike. There's a guess for a
+detective! Be my soul, it's well for you it ain't him, for I think
+he'd a shot ye!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>The rider lifted his hand from his coat-pocket as he said
+this, but there was no weapon in it. Mistaking his intention,
+however, Paul Davies skipped behind the tree, and levelled a
+revolver at him.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Down with that, you fool!&rdquo; cried the horseman. &ldquo;There's
+nothing here.&rdquo; And he gave his horse the spur, and made him
+plunge to a little distance, as he held up his right hand. &ldquo;But
+I'm not such a fool as to meet a cove like you without the lead
+<a class="pagenum" name="Page_89" title="89"> </a>
+towels, too, in case you should try that dodge.&rdquo; And dipping
+his hand swiftly into his pocket again, he also showed in the air
+the glimmering barrels of a pistol. &ldquo;If you must be pullin' out
+your barkers every minute, and can't talk like a man, where's
+the good of coming all this way to palaver with a cove. It ain't
+not tuppence to me. Crack away if you likes it, and see who
+shoots best; or, if you likes it better, I don't mind if I get down
+and try who can hit hardest t'other way, and you'll find my fist
+tastes very strong of the hammer.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I thought you were up for mischief,&rdquo; said Davies, &ldquo;and I
+won't be polished off simple, that's all. It's best to keep as we
+are, and no nearer; we can hear one another well enough where
+we stand.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;It's a bargain,&rdquo; said the stranger, &ldquo;and I don't care a cuss
+who you take me for. I'm not Mr. Longcluse; but you're
+welcome, if it pleases you, to give me his name, and I wish I
+could have the old bloke's tin as easy. Now here's my little
+game, and I don't find it a bad one. When two gentlemen&mdash;we'll
+say, for instance, you and Mr. Longcluse&mdash;differs in
+opinion (you says he did a certain thing, and he says he didn't,
+or goes the whole hog and says <em>you</em> did it, and not him), it's
+plain, if the matter is to be settled amigable, it's best to have
+a man as knows what he's about, and can find out the cove
+as threatens the rich fellow, and deal with him handsome,
+according to circumstances. My terms is moderate. I takes
+five shillins in the pound, and not a pig under; and that
+puts you and I in the same boat, d'ye see? Well, I gets all
+I can out of him, and no harm can happen me, for I'm but
+a cove a-carryin' of messages betwixt you, and the more I
+gets for you the better for me. I settled many a business
+amigable the last five years that would never have bin settled
+without me. I'm well knowing to some of the swellest lawyers
+in town, and whenever they has a dilikite case, like a gentleman
+threatened with informations or the like, they sends for me,
+and I arranges it amigable, to the satisfacshing of both parties.
+It's the only way to settle sich affairs with good profit and no
+risk. I have spoke to Mr. Longcluse. He was all for having
+your four bones in the block-house, and yourself on the twister;
+and he's not a cove to be bilked out of his tin. But he would
+not like the bother of your cross-charge, either, and I think I
+could make all square between ye. What do you say?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;How can I tell that you ever set eyes on Mr. Longcluse?&rdquo;
+said Davies, more satisfied as the conference proceeded that he
+had misdirected his first guess at the identity of the horseman.
+&ldquo;How can I tell you're not just a-gettin' all you can out o' me,
+to make what you can of it on your own account in that
+market?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p><a class="pagenum" name="Page_90" title="90"> </a>&ldquo;That's true, you can't tell, mate.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;And what do I know about you? What's your name?&rdquo;
+pursued Paul Davies.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I forgot my name, I left it at home in the cupboard; and
+you know nothing about me, that's true, excepting what I told
+you, and you'll hear no more.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I'm too old a bird for that; you're a born genius, only spoilt
+in the baking. I'm thinking, mate, I may as well paddle my
+own canoe, and sell my own secret on my own account. What
+can you do for me that I can't do as well for myself?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You don't think that, Paul. You dare not show to Mr.
+Longcluse, and you know he's in a wax; and who can you send
+to him? You'll make nothing o' that brag. Where's the good
+of talking like a blast to a chap like me? Don't you suppose
+I take all that at its vally? I tell you what, if it ain't settled
+now, you'll see me no more, for I'll not undertake it.&rdquo; He
+pulled up his horse's head, preparatory to starting.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Well, what's up now?&mdash;what's the hurry?&rdquo; demanded Mr.
+Davies.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Why, if this here meetin' won't lead to business, the sooner
+we two parts and gets home again, the less time wasted,&rdquo;
+answered the cavalier, with his hand on the crupper of the
+saddle, as he turned to speak.</p>
+
+<p>Each seemed to wait for the other to add something.</p>
+
+<div class="image-center chapter-end">
+<img src="images/ep01.png" width="216" height="112" alt=""/>
+</div>
+
+<div class="image-center chapter-beginning"><a class="pagenum" name="Page_91" title="91"> </a>
+<img src="images/ch01.png" width="441" height="84" alt=""/>
+</div>
+
+<h2 class="no-break">CHAPTER XVII.<br/>
+<small>MR. LONGCLUSE AT MORTLAKE HALL.</small></h2>
+
+<div><img class="drop-cap" src="images/drop_i.png" width="73" height="73" alt=""/></div>
+
+<p class="drop-cap drop-narrow"><span class="upper-case">&ldquo;If</span> you let me go this time, Mr. Wheeler, you'll not
+catch me a-walking out here again,&rdquo; said Mr.
+Davies sourly. &ldquo;If there's business to be done,
+now's the time.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Well, I can't make it no plainer&mdash;'tis as clear as mud in a
+wine-glass,&rdquo; said the mounted man gaily, and again he shook
+the bridle and hitched himself in the saddle, and the horse
+stirred uneasily, as he added, &ldquo;Have you any more to say?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Well, supposin' I say ay, how soon will it be settled?&rdquo; said
+Paul Davies, beginning to think better of it.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;These things doesn't take long with a rich cove like Mr.
+Longcluse. It's where they has to scrape it up, by beggin' here
+and borrowin' there, and sellin' this and spoutin' that&mdash;there's a
+wait always. But a chap with no end o' tin&mdash;that has only to
+wish and have&mdash;that's your sort. He swears a bit, and
+threatens, and stamps, and loses his temper summat, ye see;
+and if I was the prencipal, like you are in this 'ere case, and
+the police convenient, or a poker in his fist, he might make a
+row. But seein' I'm only a messenger like, it don't come to
+nothin'. He claps his hand in his pocket, and outs with the
+rino, and there's all; and jest a bit of paper to sign. But I
+won't stay here no longer. I'm getting a bit cold myself; so it's
+on or off <em>now</em>. Go yourself to Longcluse, if you like, and see
+if you don't catch it. The least you get will be seven-penn'orth,
+for extortin' money by threatenin' a prosecution, if he don't hang
+you for the murder of the Saloon cove. How would you like
+that?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;It ain't the physic that suits my complaint, guvnor. But I
+have him there. I have the statement wrote, in sure hands, and
+other hevidence, as he may suppose, and dated, and signed by
+<ins title="espectable">respectable</ins> people; and I know his dodge. He thinks he came
+<a class="pagenum" name="Page_92" title="92"> </a>
+out first with his charge against me, but he's out there; and if he
+<em>will</em> have it, and I split, he'd best look slippy.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;And how much do you want? Mind, I'll funk him all I can,
+though he's a wideawake chap; for it's my game to get every
+pig I can out of him.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I'll take two thousand pounds, and go to Canada or to New
+York, my passage and expenses being paid, and sign anything
+in reason he wants; and that's the shortest chalk I'll offer.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Don't you wish you may get it? <em>I</em> do, I know, but I'm
+thinking you might jest as well look for the naytional debt.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;What's your name?&rdquo; again asked Davies, a little abruptly.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;My name fell out o' window and was broke, last Tuesday
+mornin'. But call me Tom Wheeler, if you can't talk without
+calling me something.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Well, Tom, that's the figure,&rdquo; said Davies.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;If you want to deal, speak now,&rdquo; said Wheeler. &ldquo;If I'm
+to stand between you, I must have a power to close on the best
+offer I'm like to get. I won't do nothing in the matter else-ways.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>With this fresh exhortation, the conference on details
+proceeded; and when at last it closed, with something like a
+definite understanding, Tom Wheeler said,&mdash;&ldquo;Mind, Paul
+Davies, I comes from no one, and I goes to no one; and I
+never seed you in all my days.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;And where are you going?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;A bit nearer the moon,&rdquo; said the mysterious Mr. Wheeler,
+lifting his hand and pointing towards the red disk, with one of
+his bearded grins. And wheeling his horse suddenly, away he
+rode at a canter, right toward the red moon, against which for
+a few moments the figure of the retreating horse and man
+showed black and sharp, as if cut out of cardboard.</p>
+
+<p>Paul Davies looked after him with his left eye screwed close,
+as was his custom, in shrewd rumination. Before the horseman
+had got very far, the moon passed under the edge of a thick
+cloud, and the waste was once more enveloped in total darkness.
+In this absolute obscurity the retreating figure was instantaneously
+swallowed, so that the shrewd ex-detective, who had
+learned by rote every article of his dress, and every button on it,
+and could have sworn to every mark on his horse at York Fair,
+had no chance of discovering in the ultimate line of his retreat,
+any clue to his destination. He had simply emerged from darkness,
+and darkness had swallowed him again.</p>
+
+<hr class="thought-break"/>
+
+<p>We must now see how Sir Reginald's little dinner-party, not a
+score of miles away, went off only two days later. He was
+fortunate, seeing he had bidden his guests upon very short
+notice, not one disappointed.</p>
+
+<p><a class="pagenum" name="Page_93" title="93"> </a>I daresay that Lady May&mdash;whose toilet, considering how
+quiet everything was, had been made elaborately&mdash;missed a face
+that would have brightened all the rooms for her. But the
+interview between Richard Arden and his father had not, as we
+know, ended in reconciliation, and Lady May's hopes were
+disappointed, and her toilet labour in vain.</p>
+
+<p>When Lady May entered the room with Alice, she saw
+standing on the hearth-rug, at the far end of the handsome
+room, a tall and very good-looking man of sixty or upwards,
+chatting with Sir Reginald, one of whose feet was in a slipper,
+and who was sitting in an easy-chair. A little bit of fire burned
+in the grate, for the day had been chill and showery. This tall
+man, with white silken hair, and a countenance kind, frank, and
+thoughtful, with a little sadness in it, was, she had no doubt,
+David Arden, whom she had last seen with silken brown locks,
+and the cheerful aspect of early manhood.</p>
+
+<p>Sir Reginald stood up, with an uncomfortable effort, and,
+smiling, pointed to his slippers in excuse for his limping gait, as
+he shuffled forth across the carpet to meet her, with a good-humoured
+shrug.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Wasn't it good of her to come?&rdquo; said Alice.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;She's better than good,&rdquo; said Sir Reginald, with his thin,
+yellow smile, extending his hand, and leading her to a chair;
+&ldquo;it is visiting the sick and the halt, and doing real good, for it
+is a pleasure to see her&mdash;a pleasure bestowed on a miserable
+soul who has very few pleasures left;&rdquo; and with his other thin
+hand he patted gently the fingers of her fat hand. &ldquo;Here is my
+brother David,&rdquo; continued the baronet. &ldquo;He says you will
+hardly know him.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;She'll hardly believe it. She was very young when she last
+saw me, and the last ten years have made some changes,&rdquo; said
+Uncle David, laughing gently.</p>
+
+<p>At the baronet's allusion to that most difficult subject, the
+lapse of time, Lady May winced and simpered uneasily; but
+she expanded gratefully as David Arden disposed of it so
+adroitly.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;We'll not speak of years of change. I knew you instantly,&rdquo;
+said Lady May happily. &ldquo;And you have been to Vichy,
+Reginald. What stay do you make here?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;None, almost; my crippled foot keeps me always on a
+journey. It seems a paradox, but so it is. I'm ordered to visit
+Buxton for a week or so, and then I go, for change of air, to
+Yorkshire.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>As Alice entered, she saw the pretty face, the original of the
+brilliant portrait which had haunted her on her night journey to
+Twyford, and she heard a very silvery voice chatting gaily. Mr.
+Longcluse was leaning on the end of the sofa on which Grace
+<a class="pagenum" name="Page_94" title="94"> </a>
+Maubray sat; and Vivian Darnley, it seemed in high spirits, was
+standing and laughing nearly before her. Alice Arden walked
+quickly over to welcome her handsome guest. With a misgiving
+and a strange pain at her heart, she saw how much more
+beautiful this young lady had grown. Smiling radiantly, with
+her hand extended, she greeted and kissed her fair kinswoman;
+and, after a few words, sat down for a little beside her; and
+asked Mr. Longcluse how he did; and finally spoke to Vivian
+Darnley, and then returned to her conventional dialogue of
+welcome and politeness with her cousin&mdash;<em>how</em> cousin, she could
+not easily have explained.</p>
+
+<p>The young ladies seemed so completely taken up with one
+another that, after a little waiting, the gentlemen fell into a
+desultory talk, and grew gradually nearer to the window.
+They were talking now of dogs and horses, and Mr. Longcluse
+was stealing rapidly into the good graces of the young man.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;When we come up after dinner, you must tell me who these
+people are,&rdquo; said Grace Maubray, who did not care very much
+what she said. &ldquo;That young man is a Mr. Vivian, ain't he?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;No&mdash;Darnley,&rdquo; whispered Alice; &ldquo;Vivian is his Christian
+name.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Very romantic names; and, if he really means half he says,
+he is a very romantic person.&rdquo; She laughed.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;What has he been saying?&rdquo; Alice wondered. But, after
+all, it was possible to be romantic on almost any subject.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;And the other?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;He's a Mr. Longcluse,&rdquo; answered Alice.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;He's rather clever,&rdquo; said the young lady, with a grave
+decision that amused Alice.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Do you think so? Well, so do I; that is, I know he can
+interest one. He has been almost everywhere, and he tells things
+rather pleasantly.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Before they could go any further, Vivian Darnley, turning
+from the window toward the two young ladies, said&mdash;&ldquo;I've just
+been saying that we must try to persuade Lady May to get up
+that party to the <ins title="Derby,">Derby.</ins>&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I can place a drag at her disposal,&rdquo; said Mr. Longcluse.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;And a splendid team&mdash;I saw them,&rdquo; threw in Darnley.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;There's nothing I should like so much,&rdquo; said Alice. &ldquo;I've
+never been to the Derby. What do you say, Grace? Can you
+manage Uncle David?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I'll try,&rdquo; said the young lady gaily.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;We must all set upon Lady May,&rdquo; said Alice. &ldquo;She is so
+good-natured, she can't resist us.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Suppose we begin now?&rdquo; suggested Darnley.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Hadn't we better wait till we have her quite to ourselves?
+Who knows what your papa and your uncle might say?&rdquo; said
+<a class="pagenum" name="Page_95" title="95"> </a>
+Grace Maubray, turning to Alice. &ldquo;I vote for saying nothing
+to them until Lady May has settled, and then they must only
+submit.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I agree with you quite,&rdquo; said Alice laughing.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Sage advice!&rdquo; said Mr. Longcluse, with a smile; &ldquo;and
+there's time enough to choose a favourable moment. It comes
+off exactly ten days from this.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Oh, anything might be done in ten days,&rdquo; said Grace. &ldquo;I'm
+sorry it is so far away.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Yes, a great deal might be done in ten days; and a great
+deal might happen in ten days,&rdquo; said Longcluse, listlessly looking
+down at the floor&mdash;&ldquo;a great deal might happen.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>He thought he saw Miss Arden's eye turned upon him,
+curiously and quickly, as he uttered this common-place speech,
+which was yet a little odd.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;In this busy world, Miss Arden, there is no such thing as
+quiet, and no one acts without imposing on other people the
+necessity for action,&rdquo; said Mr. Longcluse; &ldquo;and I believe that
+often the greatest changes in life are the least anticipated by
+those who seem to bring them about spontaneously.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>At this moment, dinner being announced, the little party
+transferred itself to the dining-room, and Miss Arden found
+herself between Mr. Longcluse and Uncle David.</p>
+
+<div class="image-center chapter-end">
+<img src="images/ep04.png" width="232" height="128" alt=""/>
+</div>
+
+<div class="image-center chapter-beginning"><a class="pagenum" name="Page_96" title="96"> </a>
+<img src="images/ch09.png" width="464" height="77" alt=""/>
+</div>
+
+<h2 class="no-break">CHAPTER XVIII.<br/>
+<small>THE PARTY IN THE DINING-ROOM.</small></h2>
+
+<div><img class="drop-cap" src="images/drop_a.png" width="72" height="73" alt=""/></div>
+
+<p class="drop-cap"><span class="upper-case">And</span> now, all being seated, began the talk and business
+of dinner.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I believe,&rdquo; said Mr. Longcluse, with a <ins title="laugh.">laugh,</ins> &ldquo;I
+am growing metaphysical.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Well, shall I confess, Mr. Longcluse, you do sometimes say
+things that are, I fear, a little too wise for my poor comprehension?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I don't express them; it is my fault,&rdquo; he answered, in a very
+low tone. &ldquo;You have <em>mind</em>, Miss Arden, for anything. There
+is no one it is so delightful to converse with, owing in part to
+that very faculty&mdash;I mean quick apprehension. But I know my
+own defects. I know how imperfectly I often express myself.
+By-the-way, you seemed to wish to have that curious little wild
+Bohemian air I sang the other night, &lsquo;The Wanderer's Bride&rsquo;&mdash;the
+song about the white lily, you know. I ventured to get a
+friend, who really is a very good musician, to make a setting of
+it, which I so very much hope you will like. I brought it with
+me. You will think me very presumptuous, but I hoped so
+much you might be tempted to try it.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>When Mr. Longcluse spoke to Alice, it was always in a tone
+so very deferential, that it was next to impossible that a very
+young girl should not be flattered by it&mdash;considering, especially,
+that the man was reputed clever, had seen the world, and had
+met with a certain success, and that by no means of a kind often
+obtained, or ever quite despised. There was also a directness
+in his eulogy which was unusual, and which spoken with a
+different manner would have been embarrassing, if not offensive.
+But in Mr. Longcluse's manner, when he spoke such phrases,
+there appeared a real humility, and even sadness, that the boldness
+<a class="pagenum" name="Page_97" title="97"> </a>
+of the sentiment was lost in the sincerity and dejection of
+the speaker, which seemed to place him on a sudden at the
+immeasurable distance of a melancholy worship.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I am so much obliged!&rdquo; said Alice. &ldquo;I did wish so much
+to have it when you sang it. It may not do for my voice at all,
+but I longed to try it. When a song is sung so as to move one,
+it is sure to be looked out and learned, without any thought
+wasted on voice, or skill, or natural fitness. It is, I suppose, like
+the vanity that makes one person dress after another. Still, I
+do wish to sing that song, and I am so much obliged!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>From the other side her uncle said very softly&mdash;&ldquo;What do
+you think of my ward, Grace Maubray?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Oughtn't I to ask, rather, what you think of her?&rdquo; she
+laughed archly.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Oh! I see,&rdquo; he answered, with a pleasant and honest smile;
+&ldquo;you have the gift of seeing as far as other clever people into a
+millstone. But, no&mdash;though perhaps I ought to thank you for
+giving me credit for so much romance and good taste&mdash;I don't
+think I shall ever introduce you to an aunt. You must guess
+again, if you will have a matrimonial explanation; though I
+don't say there is any such design. And perhaps, if there were,
+the best way to promote it would be to leave the intended hero
+and heroine very much to themselves. They are both very
+good-looking.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Who?&rdquo; asked Alice, although she knew very well whom he
+meant.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I mean that pretty creature over there, Grace Maubray, and
+Vivian Darnley,&rdquo; said he quietly.</p>
+
+<p>She smiled, looking very much pleased and very arch.</p>
+
+<p>With how Spartan a completeness women can hide the
+shootings and quiverings of mental pain, and of bodily pain too,
+when the motive is sufficient! Under this latter they are often
+clamorous, to be sure; but the demonstration expresses not want
+of patience, but the feminine yearning for compassion.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I fancy nothing would please the young rogue Vivian better.
+I wish I were half so sure of her. You girls are so unaccountable,
+so fanciful, and&mdash;don't be angry&mdash;so uncertain.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Well, I suppose, as you say, we must only have patience,
+and leave the matter in the hands of Time, who settles most
+things pretty well.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>She raised her eyes, and fancied she saw Grace Maubray at
+the same moment withdraw hers from her face. Lady May was
+talking from the end of the table with Mr. Longcluse.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Your neighbour who is talking to Lady May is a Mr.
+Longcluse?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Yes.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;He is a City notability; but oddly, I never happened to see
+<a class="pagenum" name="Page_98" title="98"> </a>
+him till this evening. Do you think there is something curious
+in his appearance?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Yes, a little, perhaps. Don't <ins title="you.">you?</ins>&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;So odd that he makes my blood run cold,&rdquo; said Uncle
+David, with a shrug and a little laugh. &ldquo;Seriously, I mean unpleasantly
+odd. What is Lady May talking about? Yes&mdash;I
+thought so&mdash;that horrid murder at the &lsquo;Saloon Tavern.&rsquo; For so
+good-natured a person, she has the most bloodthirsty tastes I
+know of; she's always deep in some horror.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;My brother Dick told me that Mr. Longcluse made a speech
+there.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Yes, so I heard; and I think he said what is true enough.
+London is growing more and more insecure; and that certainly
+was a most audacious murder. People make money a little
+faster, that is true; but what is the good of money, if their lives
+are not their own? It is quite true that there are streets in
+London, which I remember as safe as this room, through which
+no one suspected of having five pounds in his pocket could now
+walk without a likelihood of being garotted.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;How dreadful!&rdquo; said Alice, and Uncle David laughed a
+little at her horror.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;It is too true, my dear. But, to pass to pleasanter subjects,
+when do you mean to choose among the young fellows, and
+present me to a new nephew?&rdquo; said Uncle David.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Do you fancy I would tell anyone if I knew?&rdquo; she answered,
+laughing. &ldquo;How is it that you men, who are always
+accusing us weak women of thinking of nothing else, can never
+get the subject of matrimony out of your heads? Now, uncle,
+as you and I may talk confidentially, and at our ease, I'll tell
+you two things. I like my present spinster life very well&mdash;I
+should like it better, I think, if it were in the country; but town
+or country, I don't think I should ever like a married life. I
+don't think I'm fit for command.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Command! I thought the prayer-book said something
+about obeying, on the contrary,&rdquo; said Uncle David.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You know what I mean. I'm not fit to rule a household;
+and I am afraid I am a little idle, and I should not like to have
+it to do&mdash;and so I could never do it well.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Nevertheless, when the right man comes, he need but
+beckon with his finger, and away you go, Miss Alice, and
+undertake it all.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;So we are whistled away, like poodles for a walk, and that
+kind of thing! Well, I suppose, uncle, you are right, though
+I can't see that I'm quite so docile a creature. But if my poor
+sex is so willing to be won, I don't know how you are to excuse
+your solitary state, considering how very little trouble it would
+have taken to make some poor creature happy.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p><a class="pagenum" name="Page_99" title="99"> </a>&ldquo;A very fair retort!&rdquo; laughed Uncle David. And he added,
+in a changed tone, for a sudden recollection of his own early
+fortunes crossed him&mdash;&ldquo;But even when the right man does
+come, it does not always follow, Miss Alice, that he dares
+make the sign; fate often interposes years, and in them
+death may come, and so the whole card-castle falls.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I've had a long talk,&rdquo; he resumed, &ldquo;with Richard; he has
+made me promises, and I hope he will be a better boy for the
+future. He has been getting himself into money troubles, and
+acquiring&mdash;I'm afraid I should say cultivating&mdash;a taste for play.
+I know you have heard something of this before; I told you
+myself. But he has made me promises, and I hope, for your
+sake, he'll keep them; because, you know, I and your father
+can't last for ever, and he ought to take care of you; and how
+can he do that, if he's not fit to take care of himself? But I
+believe there is no use in thinking too much about what is to
+come. One has enough to do in the present. I think poor
+Lady May has been disappointed,&rdquo; he said, with a very cautious
+smile, his eye having glanced for a moment on her; &ldquo;she looks
+a little forlorn, I think.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Does she? And why?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Well, they say she would not object to be a little more
+nearly related to you than she is.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You can't mean papa&mdash;or <em>yourself</em>!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Oh, dear, no!&rdquo; he answered, laughing. &ldquo;I mean that she
+misses Dick a good deal.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Oh, dear! uncle, you can't be serious!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;It might be a very serious affair for her; but I don't
+know that he could do a wiser thing. The old quarrel is still
+raging, he tells me, and that he can't appear in this house.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;It is a great pity,&rdquo; said she.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Pity! Not at all. They never could agree; and it is much
+better for Dick they should not&mdash;on the terms Reginald proposes,
+at least. I see Lady May trying to induce you to make
+her the sign at which ladies rise, and leave us poor fellows to
+shift for ourselves.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Ungallant old man! I really believe she is.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>And in a moment more the ladies were floating from the
+room, Vivian Darnley standing at the door. Somehow he could
+not catch Alice's eye as they passed; she was smiling an
+answer to some gabble of Lady May's. Grace gave him a very
+kind look with her fine eyes as she went by; and so the young
+man, who had followed them up the massive stairs with his
+gaze, closed the door and sat down again, before his claret
+glass, and his little broken cluster of grapes, and half-dozen distracted
+bits of candied fruit, and sighed deeply.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;That murder in the City that you were speaking of just now
+<a class="pagenum" name="Page_100" title="100"> </a>
+to Lady May is a serious business for men who walk the streets,
+as I do sometimes, with money in their pockets,&rdquo; said David
+Arden, addressing Mr. Longcluse.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;So it struck me&mdash;one feels that instinctively. When I saw
+that poor little good-natured fellow dead, and thought how easily
+I might have walked in there myself, with the assassin behind
+me, it seemed to me simply the turn of a die that the lot had
+not fallen upon me,&rdquo; said Longcluse.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;He was robbed, too, wasn't he?&rdquo; croaked Sir Reginald,
+who was growing tired; and with his fatigue came evidences of
+his temper.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Oh, yes,&rdquo; said David; &ldquo;nothing left in his pockets.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;And Laroque, a watchmaker, a relation of his, said he had
+cheques about him, and foreign money,&rdquo; said Longcluse; &ldquo;but,
+of course, the cheques were not presented, and foreign money
+is not easily traced in a big town like London. I made him a
+present of ten pounds to stake on the game; I could not learn
+that he did stake it, and I suppose the poor fellow intended
+applying it in some more prudent way. But my present was in
+gold, and that, of course, the robber applied without apprehension.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Now, you fellows who have a stake in the City, it is a
+scandal your permitting such a state of things to continue,&rdquo;
+said Sir Reginald; &ldquo;because, though your philanthropy may
+not be very diffuse, each of you cares most tenderly for one
+individual at least in the human race&mdash;I mean <em>self</em>&mdash;and whatever
+you may think of personal morality, and even life&mdash;for you
+don't seem to me to think a great deal of grinding operatives in
+the cranks of your mills, or blowing them up by bursting steam-boilers,
+to say nothing of all the people you poison with adulterated
+food, or with strychnine in beer, or with arsenic in
+candles, or pretty green papers for bed-rooms&mdash;or smash or
+burn alive on railways&mdash;yet you should, on selfish grounds, set
+your faces against a system of assassination for pocket-books
+and purses, the sort of things precisely you have always about
+you. Don't you see? And it's inconsistent besides, because,
+as I said, although you care little for life&mdash;other people's, I
+mean&mdash;in the abstract, yet you care a great deal for property.
+I think it's your idol, by Jove! and worshipping money&mdash;positively
+<em>worshipping</em> it, as you do, it seems a scandalous inconsistency
+that you should&mdash;of course, I don't mean you two
+individually,&rdquo; he said, perhaps recollecting that he might be
+going a little too fast; &ldquo;you never, of course, fancied <em>that</em>. I
+mean, of course, the class of men we have all heard of, or seen&mdash;but
+I do say, with that sort of adoration for money and
+property, I can't understand their allowing their pockets to be
+profaned and their purses made away with.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p><a class="pagenum" name="Page_101" title="101"> </a>Sir Reginald, having thus delivered himself with considerable
+asperity, poured some claret into his glass, and pushed the jugs
+on to his brother, and then, closing his eyes, composed himself
+either to listen or to sleep.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;City or country, East End or West End, I fancy we are all
+equally anxious to keep other people's hands out of our pockets,&rdquo;
+said David Arden; &ldquo;and I quite agree with Mr. Longcluse in all
+he is reported to have said with respect to our police system.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;But is it so certain that the man was robbed?&rdquo; said Vivian
+Darnley.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Everything he had about him was taken,&rdquo; said Mr. Longcluse.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;But they pretend to rob men sometimes, when they murder
+them, only to conceal the real motive,&rdquo; persisted Vivian
+Darnley.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Yes, that's quite true; but then there must be <em>some</em> motive,&rdquo;
+said Mr. Longcluse, with something a little supercilious in his
+smile: &ldquo;and it isn't easy to conceive a motive for murdering a
+poor little good-natured letter of lodgings, a person past the
+time of life when jealousy could have anything to do with it,
+and a most inoffensive and civil creature. I confess, if I were
+obliged to seek a motive other than the obvious one, for the
+crime, I should be utterly puzzled.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;When I was travelling in Prussia,&rdquo; said Vivian Darnley, &ldquo;I
+saw two people in different prisons&mdash;one a woman, the other a
+middle-aged man&mdash;both for murder. They had been found
+guilty, and had been kept there only to get a confession from
+them before execution. They won't put culprits to death there,
+you know, unless they have first admitted their guilt; and one
+of these had actually confessed. Well, each had borne an unexceptionable
+character up to the time when suspicion was accidentally
+aroused, and then it turned out that they had been
+poisoning and otherwise making away with people, at the rate
+of two or three a year, for half their lives. Now, don't you see,
+these masked assassins, having, as it appeared, absolutely no
+intelligible motive, either of passion or of interest, to commit
+these murders, could have had no inducement, as the woman
+had actually confessed, except a sort of lust of murder. I suppose
+it is a sort of madness, but these people were not otherwise
+mad; and it is quite possible that the same sort of thing may
+be going on in other places. People say that the police would
+have got a clue to the mystery by means of the foreign coin
+and the bank-notes, if they had not been destroyed.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;But there are traces of organisation,&rdquo; said Mr. Longcluse.
+&ldquo;In a crowded place like that, such things could hardly be
+managed without it, and insanity such as you describe is very
+rare; and you'll hardly get people to believe in a swell-mob of
+<a class="pagenum" name="Page_102" title="102"> </a>
+madmen, committing murder in concert simply for the pleasure
+of homicide. They will all lean to a belief in the coarse but
+intelligible motive of the highwayman.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I saw in the newspapers,&rdquo; said David Arden, &ldquo;some
+evidence of yours, Mr. Longcluse, which seemed rather to
+indicate a particular man as the murderer.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I have my eye upon him,&rdquo; said Longcluse. &ldquo;There are
+suspicious circumstances. The case in a little time may begin
+to clear; at present the police are only groping.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;That's satisfactory; and those fellows are paid so handsomely
+for groping,&rdquo; said Sir Reginald, opening his eyes suddenly.
+&ldquo;I believe that we are the worst-governed and the
+worst-managed people on earth, and that our merchants and
+tradespeople are rich simply by flukes&mdash;simply by a concurrence
+of lucky circumstances, with which they have no more
+to do than Prester John or the Man in the Moon. Take a
+little claret, Mr. Longcluse, and send it on.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;No more, thanks.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>And all the guests being of the same mind, they marched up
+the broad stairs to the ladies.</p>
+
+<div class="image-center chapter-end">
+<img src="images/ep01.png" width="216" height="112" alt=""/>
+</div>
+
+<div class="image-center chapter-beginning"><a class="pagenum" name="Page_103" title="103"> </a>
+<img src="images/ch19.png" width="470" height="100" alt=""/>
+</div>
+
+<h2 class="no-break">CHAPTER XIX.<br/>
+<small>IN MRS. TANSEY'S ROOM.</small></h2>
+
+<div><img class="drop-cap" src="images/drop_t.png" width="72" height="72" alt=""/></div>
+
+<p class="drop-cap"><span class="upper-case">There</span> were sounds of music and laughter faintly
+audible through the drawing-room door. The music
+ceased as the door opened, and the gentlemen
+entered an atmosphere of brilliant light, and fragrant
+with the pleasant aroma of tea.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Pray, Miss Arden, don't let us interrupt you,&rdquo; said Mr.
+Longcluse. &ldquo;I thought I heard singing as we came up the
+stairs.&rdquo; He had come to the piano, and was now at her side.</p>
+
+<p>She did not sing or play, but Vivian Darnley thought that
+her conversation with Longcluse, as, with one knee on his
+chair, he leaned over the back of it and talked, seemed more
+interesting than usual.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I say, Reginald,&rdquo; said David Arden softly to his brother,
+&ldquo;I must run down and pay Martha Tansey my usual visit.
+She's in her room, I suppose. I'll steal away and return
+quietly.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>And so he was gone. He closed the door softly behind him,
+and slowly descended the wide staircase, with many vague
+conjectures and images revolving in his mind. He paused at
+the great window on the landing, and looked out upon the
+solemn and familiar landscape. A brilliant moon was high in
+the sky, and the stars glimmered brightly. His hand was on
+the window as he looked out, thinking.</p>
+
+<p>Uncle David was a man impulsive, prompt, sanguine&mdash;a
+temperament, in short, which, directed by an able intellect,
+would have made a good general. When an idea had got into
+his head, he could not rest until he had worked it out. On
+the whole, throughout his life these fits of sudden and feverish
+concentration had been effective, and aided his fortunes. It
+is, perhaps, an unbusiness-like temperament; but commercial
+habits and example had failed to control that natural ardour,
+and, when once inflamed, it governed his actions implicitly.</p>
+
+<p><a class="pagenum" name="Page_104" title="104"> </a>An idea, very vague, very little the product of reason, had
+now taken possession of his brain, and he relied upon it as an
+intuition. He had been thinking over it. It first warmed,
+then simmered, then, as it were, boiled. The process had been
+one of an hour and more, as he sat at his brother's table and
+took his share in the conversation. When the steam got up
+and the pressure rose to the point of action, forth went Uncle
+David to have his talk with his early friend Tansey. He
+stopped, as I have said, at the great window on the staircase,
+and looked out and up. The moon was splendid; the stars
+were glimmering brightly; they looked down like a thousand
+eyes set upon him, to watch the prowess and perseverance of
+the man on whom fate had imposed a mission.</p>
+
+<p>Some idea like this seized him, for, like many men of a
+similar temperament, he had an odd and unconfessed vein of
+poetry in his nature. He had looked out and up in a listless
+abstraction, and the dark heaven above him, brilliant with its
+eternal lights, had for a moment withdrawn and elevated his
+thoughts as if he had entered a cathedral.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;What specks and shadows we are, and how eternal is
+duty! And if we are in another place to last like those unfailing
+lights&mdash;to become happy or wretched, and, in either
+state, indestructible for ever&mdash;what signify the labour and
+troubles of life, compared with that by which our everlasting
+fate is fixed? God help us! Am I consulting revenge or
+conscience in pursuing this barren inquiry? Do I mistake for
+the sublime impulse of conscience a vulgar thirst for blood?
+I think not. I never harboured malice; I hate punishing
+people. But murder is a crime against God himself, respecting
+which he imposes duties upon man, and seconds them by
+all the instincts of affection. Dare I neglect them, then, in the
+case of poor loving Harry, my brother?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>The drawing-room door had been opened a little, the night
+being sultry, and through it now came the clear tones of a
+well-taught baritone. It was singing a slow and impassioned
+air, and its tones, though sweet, chilled him with a strange
+pain. It seemed like instinct that told him it was the stranger's
+voice. One moment's thought would have proved it equally.
+There was no one else present to suspect but Vivian Darnley,
+and he was no musician; but to David Arden it seemed that
+if a hundred people were there he should have felt it all the
+same, and intuitively recognised it as Longcluse's voice.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;What is it in that voice which is so hateful? What is it in
+that passion which sounds insincere? What gives to those
+sweet tones a latent discord, that creeps so coldly through my
+nerves?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>So thought David Arden, as, with one hand still upon the
+<a class="pagenum" name="Page_105" title="105"> </a>
+window-sash, he listened and turned toward the open door,
+with a frown akin to one of pain.</p>
+
+<p>Spell-bound, he listened till the song was over, and sighed
+and shook his ears with a sort of shudder when the music
+ceased.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I don't know why I stayed to listen. Face&mdash;voice&mdash;what
+is the agency about that fellow? I daresay I'm a fool, but I
+can't help it, and I must bring the idea to the test.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>He descended the stairs slowly, crossed the hall, and walked
+thoughtfully down the passage leading to the housekeeper's
+room. At this hour the old woman had it usually to herself.
+He knocked at the housekeeper's door, and recognised the
+familiar voice that answered.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;How do you do, Martha?&rdquo; said he, striding cheerily into
+the room.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Ah! Master David? So it is, sure!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Ay, sure and sure, Martha,&rdquo; said he, taking the old woman's
+hand, with his kind smile. &ldquo;And how are you, Martha? Tell
+me how you are.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I won't say much. I'm not so canty as you'll mind me.
+I'm an old wife now, Master David, and not much for this
+world, I'm <ins title="thinking'">thinking</ins>,&rdquo; she answered dolorously.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You may outlive much younger people, Martha; we are all
+in the hands of God,&rdquo; said David, smiling. &ldquo;It seems to me
+but yesterday that I and poor Harry used to run in here to
+you from our play in the grounds, and you had always a bit of
+something for us hungry fellows to eat, come when we might.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Ah, ha! Yes, ye were hungry fellows then&mdash;spirin' up, fine
+tall lads. Reginald was never like ye; he was seven years
+older than you. And hungry? Yes! The cold turkey and
+ham, ye mind&mdash;by Jen! I <em>have</em> seen ye eat hearty; and pancakes&mdash;ye
+liked them best of all. And it went a' into a good
+skin. I will say&mdash;you and Master Harry (God be wi' him!) a
+fine, handsome pair o' lads ye were. And you're a handsome
+fellow still, Master David, and might have married well, no
+doubt; but man proposes and God disposes, and time and tide
+'ll wait for no man, and what's one man's meat's another man's
+poison. Who knows and all may be for the best? And that
+Mr. Longcluse is dining here to-day?&rdquo; she added, not very
+coherently, and with a sudden gloom.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Yes, Martha, that Mr. Longcluse is dining here to-day;
+and Master Dick tells me you did not fall in love with him at
+first sight, when they paid you a visit here. Is that true?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I don't know. I don't know what. The sight of him&mdash;or
+the sound of his voice, I don't know which&mdash;gave me a turn,&rdquo;
+said the old woman.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Well, Martha, I don't like his face, either. He gave me,
+<a class="pagenum" name="Page_106" title="106"> </a>
+also, what you call a turn. He's very pale, and I felt as if I
+had been frightened by him when I was a child; and yet he
+must be some five and twenty years younger than I am, and
+I'm almost certain I never saw him before. So I say it must
+be something that's no' canny as you used to say. What do
+you think, Martha?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Ye may be funnin', Master David. Ye were always a
+canty lad. But it's o'er true. I can't bring to mind what it is&mdash;I
+can't tell&mdash;but something in that man's face gev me a sten.
+I conceited I was just goin' to swound; and he looked sa
+straight at me, like a ghost.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Master Richard says you looked very hard at Mr. Longcluse;
+you had both a good stare at each other,&rdquo; said Uncle
+David. &ldquo;He thought there was going to be a recognition.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Did I? Well, no: I don't know him, I <em>think</em>. 'Tis all a
+jummlement, like. I couldn't bring nout to mind.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I know, Martha, you liked poor Harry well,&rdquo; said David
+Arden, not with a smile, but with a very sad countenance.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;That I did,&rdquo; said Mrs. Tansey.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;And I think you like me, Martha?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Ye're not far wrong there, Master David.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;And for both our sakes&mdash;for mine and his, for the dead no
+less than the living&mdash;I am sure you won't allow any thought of
+trouble, or nervousness, or fear of lawyers' browbeating, or
+that sort of thing, to deter you from saying, wherever and
+whenever justice may require it, everything you know or
+suspect respecting that dreadful occurrence.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;The death o' Master Harry, ye mean!&rdquo; exclaimed Mrs.
+Tansey sternly, drawing herself up on a sudden, with a pale
+frown, and looking full at him. &ldquo;<em>Me</em> to hide or hold back
+aught that could bring the truth to light! Oh! Master David,
+do you know what ye're sayin'?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Perfectly,&rdquo; said he, with a melancholy smile; &ldquo;and I am
+glad it vexes you, Martha, because I need no answer on that
+point more than your honest voice and face.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Keep back aught, man!&rdquo; she repeated, striking her hand
+on the table. &ldquo;Why, lad, I'd lose that old hand under the
+chopper for one gliff o' the truth into that damned story.
+Why, lawk! where's yer head, boy? Wasn't I maist killed
+myself, for sake o' him that night?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Ay, Martha, brave girl, I'm satisfied; and I ask your
+pardon for the question. But years bring alteration, you
+know; and I'm changed in mind myself in many ways I never
+could have believed. And everyone doesn't see with me that
+it is our duty to explore a crime like that, to track the villain,
+if we can, and bring him to justice. <em>You</em> do, Martha; but
+there are many in whose veins poor Harry's blood is running,
+<a class="pagenum" name="Page_107" title="107"> </a>
+who don't feel like you. Master Richard said that the gentleman
+looked as if he did not know what to make of you; &lsquo;and,
+by Jove!&rsquo; said he, &lsquo;<em>I</em> didn't either&mdash;Martha stared so.&rsquo;&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I couldn't help. 'Twas scarce civil; but truly I couldn't,
+Sir,&rdquo; said Martha Tansey, who had by this time recovered her
+equanimity. &ldquo;He did remind me of summat.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;We will talk of that by-and-by, Martha; we will try to
+recall it. What I want you first to tell me is exactly your
+recollection of the lamentable occurrence of that night. I
+have a full note of it at home; but I have not looked at it for
+years, and I want my recollection confirmed to-night, that you
+and I may talk over some possibilities which I should like to
+examine with your help.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I can talk of it now,&rdquo; said the old woman; &ldquo;but for many
+a year after it happened I dare not. I could not sleep for
+many a night after I told it to anyone. But now I can bear it.
+So, Master David, you may ask what you please.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;First let me hear your recollection of what happened,&rdquo; said
+David Arden.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Ay, Master David, that I will. Sit ye down, for my old
+bones won't carry me standing no time now, and sit I must.
+Right well ye're lookin', and right glad am I to see it, Master
+David; and ye were always a handsome laddie. God bless ye,
+and God be wi' the old times! And poor Master Harry&mdash;poor
+laddie!&mdash;I liked him well. You two looked beautiful, walkin'
+up to t' house together&mdash;two conny, handsome boys ye were.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<div class="image-center chapter-end">
+<img src="images/ep01.png" width="216" height="112" alt=""/>
+</div>
+
+<div class="image-center chapter-beginning"><a class="pagenum" name="Page_108" title="108"> </a>
+<img src="images/ch15.png" width="456" height="110" alt=""/>
+</div>
+
+<h2 class="no-break">CHAPTER XX.<br/>
+<small>MRS. TANSEY'S STORY.</small></h2>
+
+<div><img class="drop-cap" src="images/drop_t.png" width="72" height="72" alt=""/></div>
+
+<p class="drop-cap"><span class="upper-case">&ldquo;The</span> sun don't touch these windows till nigh nightfall.
+In the short days o' winter, the last sunbeam
+at the settin' just glints along the wall, and touches
+a sprig or two o' them scarlet geraniums on the
+windastone. 'Tis a cold room, Master David. In summer
+evenins, like this, ye have just a chilly flush o' the <ins title="sun'">sun</ins> settin',
+and, before it's well on the windas, the bats and beetles is abroad,
+and the moth is flittin', and the gloamin' fa's,&rdquo; said the old
+woman. &ldquo;The windas looks to the west, but also a bit to the
+north, ye'll mind, and that's the cause o't. I don't complain. I
+ha' suffered it these thirty years and more, and 'tain't worth
+while, for the few years that's left, makin' a blub and a blither
+about it. I'm an old wife now, Master David, and there can't
+be many more years for me left aboon the grass, sa I e'en let be
+and taks the world easy, ye see; and that's the reason I aye
+keep a bit o' wood burnin' on the hearth&mdash;it keeps the life in
+my old bones&mdash;and I hope it ain't too warm for you, Master
+David?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Not a bit, Martha. This side of the house is cool. I remember
+that our room, when we were boys, looked out from it,
+high up, you recollect, and it never was hot.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;That's it, ye were in the top o' the house; and poor Harry,
+wi' his picturs o' horses and dogs hangin' up on the wa's. Lawk!
+it seems but last week. How the years flits! I often thinks of
+him. See what a moon there is to-night. 'Twas just such a
+moon that night, only frostier, ye see&mdash;the same clear sky and
+bright moon; 'twould make ye wink to look at. Ye're not too
+hot wi' that bit o' wood lightin' in the grate?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I like the fire, Martha, and I like the moon, and I like your
+company best of all.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p><a class="pagenum" name="Page_109" title="109"> </a>The truth was, he did like the flicker of the wood fire. The
+flame was cheery, and took off something of the dismal shadow
+that stole over everything whenever he applied his affectionate
+mind to the horrors of the dreadful night on which he was now
+ruminating. One of the window-shutters was open, and the
+chill brilliancy of the moon, and the deep blue sky, were serenely
+visible over the black foreground of trees. The wavering of the
+redder light of the fire, as its reflection spread and faded upon
+the wainscot, was warm and pleasant; and, had their talk been
+of less ghastly things, would have brightened their thoughts with
+a sense of comfort.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I have not very long to stay, Martha,&rdquo; said David Arden,
+looking at his watch, &ldquo;so tell me your recollection as accurately
+as you can. Let me hear <em>that</em> first; and then I want to ask
+you for some particular information, which I am sure you can
+give me.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Why not? Who should I give it sooner to? Will ye take
+a cup o' coffee? No. Well, a glass o' curaçoa? No. And
+what will ye take?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You forget that I have taken everything, and come to you
+with all my wants supplied. So now, dear Martha, let me hear
+it all.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I'll tell ye all about it. I was younger and stronger, mind,
+than I am now, by twenty years and more. 'Tis a short time to
+look back on, but a good while passing, and leaves many a gap
+and change, and many a scar and wrinkle.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>There was a palpable tremble always in Mrs. Tansey's voice,
+in the thin hand she extended towards him, and in the head
+from which her old eyes glittered glassily on him.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;The road is very lonely by night&mdash;the loneliest road in all
+England. When it passes ten o'clock, you might listen till cock-crow
+for a footfall. Well, I, and Thomas Ridley, and Anne
+Haslett, was all the people at Mortlake just then, the family
+being in the North, except Master Harry. He went to a race
+across country, that was run that day; and he told me, laughing,
+he would not ask me to throw an old shoe after him, as he stood
+sure to win two thousand pounds. And away he went, little
+thinking, him and me, how our next meetin' would be. At that
+time old Tom Clinton&mdash;ye'll mind Clinton?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;To be sure I do,&rdquo; acquiesced David Arden.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Well, Tom was in the gatehouse then; after he died, his
+daughter's husband got it, ye know. And when he had outstayed
+his time by two hours&mdash;for he was going northwards in
+the morning, and told me he'd be surely back before ten&mdash;I began
+to grow frightened, and I put on my bonnet and cloak, and
+down I runs to the gatehouse, and knocks up Tom Clinton. It
+was nigh twelve o'clock then. When Tom came to the door,
+<a class="pagenum" name="Page_110" title="110"> </a>
+having dressed in haste, I said, &lsquo;Tom, which way will Master
+Harry return? he's not been since.&rsquo; And says Tom, &lsquo;If he's
+comin' straight from the course, he'll come down from the
+country; but if he's dinin' instead in London, he'll come up the
+Islington way.&rsquo; &lsquo;Well,&rsquo; said I, &lsquo;go you, Tom, to the turn o' the
+road, and look and listen for sight or sound, and bring me word.&rsquo;
+I don't know what was frightenin' me. He was often later, and
+I never minded; but something that night was on my mind,
+like a warning, for I couldn't get the fear out o' my heart. Well,
+who comes ridin' back but Dick Wallock, the groom, that had
+drove away with him in the gig in the mornin'; and glad I was
+to see his face at the gate. It was bright moonlight, and says I,
+&lsquo;Dick, how is Master Harry? Is all well with him?&rsquo; So he
+tells me, ay, all was well, and he goin' to drive the gig out himself
+from town. He was at a place&mdash;<em>you'll</em> mind the name of it&mdash;where
+it turned out they played cards and dice, and won and
+lost like&mdash;like fools, or worse, as some o' them no doubt was.
+&lsquo;Well,&rsquo; says I, &lsquo;go you up, as he told you, with the horse, and
+I'll stay here till he comes back, if it wasn't till daybreak.&rsquo; For
+all the time, ye see, my heart misgave me that there was summat
+bad to happen; and when Tom Clinton came back, says I,
+&lsquo;Tom, you go in, and get to your room, and let me sit down in
+your kitchen; and I'll let him in when he comes, for I can't go
+up to the house, nor close an eye, till he comes.&rsquo; Well, it was a
+full hour after, and I was sittin' in the kitchen window that looks
+out on the road, starin' wide awake, and lookin', now one way
+and now another, up and down, when I hears the clink of a
+footfall on the stones, and a tall, ill-favoured man walks slowly
+by, and turns his face toward the window as he passed.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You saw him distinctly, then?&rdquo; said David.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;As plain as ever I saw you. An ill-favoured fellow in a
+light drab great coat wi' a cape to it. He looked white wi' fear,
+and wild big eyes, and a high hooked nose&mdash;a tall chap wi' his
+hands in his pockets, and a low-crowned hat on. He went on
+slow, till a whistle sounded, and then he ran down the road a
+bit toward the signal.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;That was toward the Islington side?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Ay, Sir, and I grew more uneasy. I was scared wi' the sight
+o' such a man at that time o' night, in that lonesome place, and
+the whistlin' and runnin'.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Did you see the same man again that night?&rdquo; asked
+David.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Yes, 'twas the same I saw afterwards&mdash;Lord ha' mercy on
+us! I saw him again, at his murderin' work. Oh, Master
+David! it makes my brain wild, and my skin creep, to think o'
+that sight.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I did wrong to interrupt you; tell it your own way, Martha,
+<a class="pagenum" name="Page_111" title="111"> </a>
+and I can afterwards ask you the questions that lie near my
+heart,&rdquo; said Mr. Arden.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;'Tis easy told, Sir; the candle was burnt down almost in the
+socket, and I went to look out another&mdash;but before I could find
+one, it went out. 'Twas but a stump I found and lighted, after
+I saw that fellow in the light drab surtout go by. I wished to
+let them know, if they had any ill design, there was folks awake
+in the lodge. But he was gone by before I found the matches,
+and now that he was comin' again, the candle went out&mdash;things
+goes so cross. It was to be, ye see. Well, while I was rummagin'
+about, looking for a candle, I heard the sound of a horse
+trotting hard, and wheels rollin' along; so says I, &lsquo;Thank God!&rsquo;
+for then I was sure it must be Harry, poor lad. So I claps on
+my bonnet, and out wi' me, wi' t' key. I thought I heard voices,
+as the hoofs and wheels came clinkin' up to the gate; but I
+could not be quite sure. I was huffed wi' Master Harry for the
+long wait he gev me, and the fright, and I took my time comin'
+round the corner of the gatehouse. And thinks I to myself, he'll
+be offerin' me a seat in the gig up to the house, but I won't take
+it. God forgi'e me for them angry thoughts to the poor laddie
+that I was never to have a word wi' more! When I came to
+the gate there was never a call, and nothing but voices talking
+and gaspin' like, under their breath a'most, and a queer scufflin'
+sound, that I could not make head nor tail on. So I unlocked
+the wicket, and out wi' me, and, Lord ha' mercy on us, what a
+sight for me! The gig was there, with its shafts on the ground,
+and its back cocked up, and the iron-grey flat on his side, lashin'
+and scramblin', poor brute, and two villains in the gig, both
+pullin' at poor Master Harry, one robbin', and t'other murderin'
+him. I took one o' them&mdash;a short, thick fellow&mdash;by the skirt o'
+his coat, to drag him out, and I screamed for Tom Clinton to
+come out. The short fellow turned, and struck at me wi' somethin';
+but, lucky for me, 'appen, the lashin' horse that minute
+took me on the foot, and brought me down. But up I scrambles
+wi' a stone in my hand, and I shied it, the best I could, at the
+head o' the villain that was killin' Master Harry. But what can
+a woman do? It did not go nigh him, I'm thinkin'. I was, all
+the time, calling on Tom to come, and cryin' &lsquo;Murder!&rsquo; that
+you'd think my throat'd split. That bloody wretch in the gig
+had got poor Master Harry's head back over the edge of it, and
+his knee to his chest, a-strivin' to break his neck across the
+back-rails; and poor dear lad, Master Harry, he just scritched,
+&lsquo;Yelland Mace! for God's sake!&rsquo; They were the last words I
+ever heard from him, and I'll never forget that horrid scritch,
+nor the face of the villain that was over him, like a beast over
+its prey. He was tuggin' at his throat, like you'd be tryin' to
+tear up a tree by the roots&mdash;you never see such a face. His
+<a class="pagenum" name="Page_112" title="112"> </a>
+teeth was set, and the froth comin' through, and his black eyebrows
+screwed together, you'd think they'd crack the thin
+hooked nose of him between them, and he pantin' like a wild
+beast. He looked like a madman, I tell you; 'twas bright moonlight,
+and the trees bare, and the shadows of the branches was
+switchin' across his face.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You saw that face distinctly?&rdquo; asked David Arden.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;As clear as yours this minute.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Now tell me&mdash;and think first&mdash;was he a bit like that Mr.
+Longcluse whose appearance startled you the other evening?&rdquo;
+asked Mr. Arden, in a very low tone, with his eyes fixed on her
+intensely.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;No, no, no! not a bit. He had a small mouth and white
+teeth, and a great beak of a nose. No, no, no! not he. I saw
+him strike somethin' that shone&mdash;a knife or a dagger&mdash;into the
+poor lad's throat, and he struck it down at my head, as you
+know, and I mind nothin' after that. I'll carry the scar o' that
+murderer's blow to my grave. There's the whole story, and
+God forgi'e ye for asking me, for it gi'es me t' creepins for a
+week after; and I didn't conceit 'twould 'a' made me sa excited,
+Sir, or I would not 'a' bargained to tell it to-night&mdash;not that I
+blame ye, Master David, for I thought, myself, that I could bear
+it better&mdash;and I do believe, as I have gone so far in it, 'tis better
+to make one job of it, and a finish. So ye'll ask me any question
+ye like, and I'll make the best answer I can; only, Master
+David, ye'll not be o'er long about it?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You are a good creature, Martha. I am sorry to pain
+you, but I pain myself, and you know why I ask these
+questions.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Ay, Sir, and I'd rather hear ye ask them than see you sit as
+easy under all that as some does, that owed the poor fellow as
+much love as ever you did, and were as near akin.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I am puzzled, Martha, and hitherto I have been baffled, but
+I won't give it up yet. You say that the wretch who struck you
+was a singular-looking man, at least as you describe him. I
+know, Martha, I can rely upon your caution&mdash;you will not repeat
+to any one what passes in our interview.&rdquo; He lowered his voice.
+&ldquo;You do not think that this Mr. Longcluse&mdash;a rich gentleman,
+you know and a person who thinks he's of some consequence, a
+person whom we must not look at, you know, as if he had two
+heads&mdash;you really don't think that this Mr. Longcluse has any
+resemblance to the villain whom you saw stab my brother, and
+who struck you?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Not he&mdash;no more than I have. No, no, Mr. Longcluse is
+quite another sort of face; but for all that, when he came in
+here, and I saw him before me, his face and his speech reminded
+me of that night.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p><a class="pagenum" name="Page_113" title="113"> </a>&ldquo;How was that, Martha? Did he resemble the other man&mdash;the
+man who was aiding?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;That fellow was hanged, ye'll mind, Master David.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Yes, but a likeness might have struck and startled you.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;No, Sir&mdash;no, Master David, not him; surely not him. I
+can't bring it to mind, but it frightens me. It <em>is</em> queer, Sir. All
+I can say for certain is this, Master David. The minute I heard
+his voice, and got sight of his face, like that,&rdquo; and she dropped
+her hand on the table, &ldquo;the thought of that awful night came
+back, bright and cold, Sir, and them black shadows&mdash;'twas all
+about me, I can't tell how, and I hope I may never see him
+again.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Do you think there was another man by, besides the two
+villains in the gig?&rdquo; suggested David Arden.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Not a living soul except them and myself. Poor Master
+Harry said to Tom Clinton, ye'll mind, for he lived half-an-hour
+after, and spoke a little, though faint and with great labour, and
+says he, &lsquo;There were two: Yelland Mace killed me, and Tom
+Todry took the money.&rsquo; Tom Clinton heard him say that, and
+swore to it before the justice o' peace, and after, on the trial.
+No, no, there wasn't a soul there but they two villains, and the
+poor dear lad they murdered, and me and Tom Clinton, that
+might as well 'a' bin in York for any good we did. Oh, no,
+Heaven forbid I should be so unmannerly as to compare a
+gentleman like Mr. Longcluse to such folk as that! Oh, lawk,
+no, Sir! But there's something, there's a look&mdash;or a sound in
+his voice&mdash;I can't get round it quite&mdash;but it reminds me of
+something about that night, with a start like, I can't tell how&mdash;something
+unlucky and awful&mdash;and I would not see him again
+for a deal.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Well, Martha, a thousand thanks. I'm puzzled, as I said.
+Perhaps it is only something strange in his face that caused that
+odd misgiving. For <em>I</em> who saw but one of the wretches
+engaged in the crime, the man who was convicted, who certainly
+did not in the slightest degree resemble Mr. Longcluse,
+experienced the same unpleasant sensation on first seeing him.
+I don't know how it is, Martha, but the idea clings to me, as it
+does to you. Some light may come. Something may turn up.
+I can't get it out of my mind that somehow&mdash;it may be
+circuitously&mdash;he has, at least, got the thread in his fingers that
+may lead us right. Good-night, Martha. I have got the Bible
+with large print you wished for; I hope you will like the binding.
+And now, God bless you! It is time I should bid them good-night
+up-stairs. Farewell, my good old friend.&rdquo; And, so
+saying, he shook her hard and shrivelled hand.</p>
+
+<p>His steps echoed along the long tiled passage, with its one dim
+light, and his mind was still haunted by its one obscure idea.</p>
+
+<p><a class="pagenum" name="Page_114" title="114"> </a>&ldquo;It is strange,&rdquo; he thought, &ldquo;that Martha and I&mdash;the only
+two living persons, I believe, who care still for poor Harry, and
+feel alike respecting the expiation that is due to his memory&mdash;should
+both have been struck with the same odd feeling on
+seeing Longcluse. From that white sinister face, it seems to
+me, I know not why, will shine the light that will yet clear all
+up.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<div class="image-center chapter-end">
+<img src="images/ep03.png" width="197" height="121" alt=""/>
+</div>
+
+<div class="image-center chapter-beginning"><a class="pagenum" name="Page_115" title="115"> </a>
+<img src="images/ch09.png" width="464" height="77" alt=""/>
+</div>
+
+<h2 class="no-break">CHAPTER XXI.<br/>
+<small>A WALK BY MOONLIGHT.</small></h2>
+
+<div><img class="drop-cap" src="images/drop_w.png" width="72" height="72" alt=""/></div>
+
+<p class="drop-cap drop-wide"><span class="upper-case">While</span> Martha Tansey was telling her grisly story in
+the housekeeper's room, and David Arden listening
+to the oft-told tale, for the sake of the possible new
+lights which the narration might throw upon his
+present theory, the little party in the drawing-room had their
+music and their talk. Mr. Longcluse sang the song which,
+standing beside Uncle David on the landing, near the great
+window on the staircase, we have faintly heard; and then he
+sang that other song, of the goblin wooer, at Alice's desire.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Was the poor girl fool enough to accept his invitation?&rdquo;
+inquired Miss Maubray.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;That I really can't say,&rdquo; laughed Mr. Longcluse.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Yes, indeed, poor thing! I so hope she didn't,&rdquo; said Lady
+May.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;It's very likely she did,&rdquo; interposed Sir Reginald, opening
+his eyes&mdash;every one thought he was dozing&mdash;&ldquo;nothing more
+foolish, and therefore, nothing more likely. Besides, if she
+didn't, she probably did worse. Better to go straight to
+the<span style="white-space: nowrap;">&mdash;&mdash;</span>&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Oh, dear Reginald!&rdquo; exclaimed Lady May.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Than by a tedious circumbendibus. I suppose her parents
+highly disapproved of the goblin; wasn't that alone an
+excellent reason for going away with him?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>And Sir Reginald closed his eyes again.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Perhaps,&rdquo; said Miss Maubray aside to Vivian Darnley,
+&ldquo;that romantic young lady may have had a cross papa, and
+thought that she could not change very much for the worse.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Shall I tell that to Sir Reginald?&mdash;it would amuse him,&rdquo;
+inquired Darnley.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Not as my remark; but I make you a present of it.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p><a class="pagenum" name="Page_116" title="116"> </a>&ldquo;Thanks; but that, even with your permission, would be a
+plagiarism, and robbing you of his applause.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Vivian Darnley was very inattentive to his own nonsense.
+He was talking very much at random, for his mind, and
+occasionally his eyes, were otherwise occupied.</p>
+
+<p>Alice Arden was sitting near the piano, and talking to Mr.
+Longcluse.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Is that meant to be a ghost, I wonder, in our sense, like the
+ghost of Wilhelm in the ballad of Leonora? or is the lover a
+demon?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;A demon, surely,&rdquo; answered Longcluse, &ldquo;a spirit appointed
+to her destruction. In an old ghostly writer there is a Latin
+sentence, <i lang="la" xml:lang="la">Unicuique nascenti, adest dæmon vitæ mystagogus</i>,
+which I will translate, &lsquo;There is present at the birth of every
+human being a demon, who is the conductor of his life.&rsquo; Be it
+fortunate, or be it direful, to this supernatural influence he owes
+it all. So they thought; and to families such a demon is
+allotted also, and they prosper or wane as his function is
+ordained. I wonder whether such demons ever enter into
+human beings, and, in the shape of living men, haunt, plague,
+and ruin their predestinated victims.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>This sort of mysticism for a time they talked, and then
+wandered away to other themes, and the talk grew general; and
+Mr. Longcluse, with a pang, discovered that it was late. He
+had something on his mind that night. He had an undivulged
+use, also, to which to apply David Arden. As the hour drew
+near it weighed more and more heavily at his heart. That hour
+must be observed; he wished to be away before it arrived.
+There was still ample time; but Lady May was now talking of
+going, and he made up his mind to say farewell.</p>
+
+<p>Lingeringly Mr. Longcluse took his leave. But go he must;
+and so, a last touch of the hand, a last look, and the parting is
+over. Down-stairs he runs; his groom and his brougham are at
+the door. What a glorious moon! The white light upon all
+things around is absolutely dazzling. How sharp and black the
+shadows! How light and filmy rises the old house! How
+black the nooks of the thick ivy! Every drop of dew that
+hangs upon its leaves, or on the drooping stalks of the neglected
+grass, is transmuted into a diamond. As he stands for an
+instant upon the broad platform of the steps, he looks round
+him with a deep sigh, and with a strange smile of rapture. The
+man standing with the open door of the brougham in his hand
+caught his eye.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Go you down as far as the little church, before you reach
+the &lsquo;Guy of Warwick,&rsquo; in the village, quite close to this&mdash;you
+know it&mdash;and wait there for me. I shall walk.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>The man touched his hat, shut the door, and mounted the
+<a class="pagenum" name="Page_117" title="117"> </a>
+box beside the driver, and away went the brougham. Mr. Longcluse
+lit a cigarette, and slowly walked down the broad avenue
+after the vehicle. By the time he had got about half-way, he
+heard the iron gates swing together, the sound of the wheels
+was lost in distance, and the feeling of seclusion returned. In
+the same vague intoxication of poetry and romance, he paused
+and looked round again, and sighed. The trunk of a great tree
+overthrown in the last year's autumnal gales, with some of its
+boughs lopped off, lay on the grass at the edge of the avenue.
+There remained a little of his cigarette to smoke, and the
+temptation of this natural seat was irresistible; so he took it,
+and smoked, and gazed, and dreamed, and sometimes, as he
+took the cigarette from his lips, he sighed&mdash;never was man in a
+more romantic vein. He looked back on the noble front of the
+picturesque old house. The cold moonlight gleamed on most of
+the window-panes: but from a few tall windows glowed faintly
+the warmer light of candles. If anyone had ever felt the
+piercing storms of life, the treachery of his species, and the
+mendacity of the illusions that surround us, Longcluse was that
+man. He had accepted the conditions of life, and was a man
+of the world; but no boy of eighteen was ever more in love
+than he at this moment.</p>
+
+<p>Gazing back at the dim glow that flushed through the tall
+window-blinds of the distant drawing-room, his fancy weaving
+all those airy dreams that passion lives in, this pale, solitary
+man&mdash;whom no one quite knew, who trusted no one, who had
+his peculiar passions, his sorrows, his fears, and strange remembrances;
+everything connected with his origin, vicissitudes, and
+character, except this one wild hope, locked up, as it were, in an
+iron casket, and buried in a grave fathoms deep&mdash;was now
+floated back, he knew not how, to that time of sweet perturbation
+and agonising hope at which the youth of Shakespeare's
+time were wont to sigh like a furnace, and indite woeful ballads
+to their mistress's eyebrows. Now he saw lights in an upper
+room. Imagination and conjecture were in a moment at work.
+No servant's apartment, its dimensions were too handsome; and
+had not Sir Reginald mentioned that his room was upon a level
+with the hall? Just at this moment Lady May's carriage drove
+down the avenue and past him. Yes, she had run up direct to
+her room on bidding Lady May good-night. How he drank in
+these rosy lights through his dark eyes! and how their tremble
+seemed to quicken the pulsations of his heart! Gradually his
+thoughts saddened, and his face grew dark.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Two doors in life&mdash;only in this life, if all bishops and curates
+speak truth&mdash;one or other shut for ever in the next. The gate
+to heaven, the gate to hell. Heaven! <i lang="la" xml:lang="la">Facilis decensus.</i> Life
+is such a sophism. Yet even those canting dogs in the pulpit
+<a class="pagenum" name="Page_118" title="118"> </a>
+can't bark away the truth. God sees not with our eyes!
+Revealed religion&mdash;Mahomet, Moses, Mormon, Borgia! What
+is the first lesson inscribed by his Maker on every man's heart,
+instinct, intellect? I read the mandate thus: &lsquo;Take the best
+care you can of number one.&rsquo; Bah! &lsquo;It is he that hath made
+us, and not we ourselves.&rsquo;&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Uncle David's carriage now drove by.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;There goes that sharp girl&mdash;pretty, vain&mdash;and they're all
+vain; they ought to be vain; they could not please if they were
+not. Vain she is&mdash;devoured, mind, soul, passion, by vanity.
+Yes, and power&mdash;the lust of power, conquest, acquisition. She's
+greedy and crafty, I daresay. Oh! Alice, who was ever quite
+like you? The most beautiful, the best, my darling! Oh!
+enchantress, work the miracle, and make this forlorn man what
+he might be!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>It passed like a magic-lantern picture, and was gone. The
+distant clang of the iron gate was heard again, the avenue was
+deserted and silent, and Longcluse once more alone in his
+dream. He was looking towards the house, sometimes breaking
+into a few murmured words, sometimes smoking, and just as his
+cigarette was out he saw a figure approaching. It was Uncle
+David, who was walking down the avenue. It so happened that
+his mind was at that moment busy with Mr. Longcluse, and it
+was with an odd little shock, therefore, that he saw the very
+man&mdash;whom he fancied by that time to be at least two miles
+away&mdash;rise up in his path, and stand before him, smiling, in the
+moonlight.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Oh!&mdash;Mr. Longcluse?&rdquo; exclaimed David Arden, coming
+suddenly to a halt.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;So it is,&rdquo; said Longcluse, with a little laugh. &ldquo;You are
+surprised to find me here, and I fancied I had seen your
+carriage go on.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;So you did; it is waiting near the gate for me. Can I give
+you a seat into town?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Thanks,&rdquo; said Longcluse, smiling; &ldquo;mine is waiting for me
+a little further on.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Longcluse walked slowly on toward the gate, with David
+Arden at his side.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;My ward, Miss Maubray, has gone on with Lady May, and
+Darnley went with them. So I'm not such a brute as I should
+be if I were making a young lady wait while I was enjoying the
+moonlight.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;It was this wonderful moon that led me, also, into this
+night-ramble on foot,&rdquo; said Mr. Longcluse; &ldquo;I found the
+temptation absolutely irresistible.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>As they thus talked, Mr. Longcluse had formed the resolution
+of choosing that moment for a confidence which, considering
+<a class="pagenum" name="Page_119" title="119"> </a>
+how slender was his acquaintance with Mr. David Arden, was,
+to say the least, a little bold and odd. They had not very far to
+walk before reaching the gate, so, a little abruptly turning the
+course of their talk, Mr. Longcluse said, with a chilly little
+laugh, and a smile more pallid than ever in the moonlight&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;By-the-bye, we were talking of that shocking occurrence in
+the Saloon Tavern; and connected with it, I have had two
+threatening letters.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Indeed!&rdquo; said David Arden.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Fact, I assure you,&rdquo; said Mr. Longcluse, with a shrug and
+another cold little laugh.</p>
+
+<div class="image-center chapter-end">
+<img src="images/ep03.png" width="197" height="121" alt=""/>
+</div>
+
+<div class="image-center chapter-beginning"><a class="pagenum" name="Page_120" title="120"> </a>
+<img src="images/ch03.png" width="472" height="107" alt=""/>
+</div>
+
+<h2 class="no-break">CHAPTER XXII.<br/>
+<small>MR. LONGCLUSE MAKES AN ODD CONFIDENCE.</small></h2>
+
+<div><img class="drop-cap" src="images/drop_d.png" width="72" height="72" alt=""/></div>
+
+<p class="drop-cap"><span class="upper-case">David Arden</span> looked at Mr. Longcluse with a sudden
+glance, that was, for a moment, shrinking and sharp.
+This confidence connected with such a scene chimed
+in, with a harmony that was full of pain, with the
+utterly vague suspicions that had somehow got into his imagination.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Yes, and I have been a little puzzled,&rdquo; continued Longcluse.
+&ldquo;They say the man who is his own lawyer has a fool for his
+client; but there are other things besides law to which the spirit
+of the canon more strongly still applies. I think you could give
+me just the kind of advice I need, if you were not to think my
+asking it too great a liberty. I should not dream of doing so if
+the matter were simply a private one, and began and ended in
+myself; but you will see in a moment that public interests of
+some value are involved, and I am a little doubtful whether the
+course I am taking is in all respects the right one. I have had
+two threatening letters; would you mind glancing at them?
+The moon is so brilliant, one has no difficulty in reading. This
+is the first. And may I ask you, kindly, until I shall have
+determined, I hope, with your aid, upon a course, to treat the
+matter as quite between ourselves? I have mentioned it to but
+one other person.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Certainly,&rdquo; said David, &ldquo;you have a right to your own
+terms.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>He took the letter and stopped short where he was, unfolding
+it. The light was quite sufficient, and he read the odd and
+menacing letter which Mr. Longcluse had received a few
+evenings before, as we know, at Lady May's. It was to the
+following effect:</p>
+
+<blockquote>
+<p><a class="pagenum" name="Page_121" title="121"> </a>&ldquo;<span class="small-caps">Sir</span>,&mdash;The unfortunate situation in which you stand, the proof
+being so, as you must suppose, makes it necessary for you to act considerately,
+and no nonsense can be permitted by your well wishers.
+The poor man has his conscience all one as as the rich, and must be
+cautious as well as him. I can not put myself in no dainger for you,
+Sir, nor won't hold back the truth, so welp me. I have heerd tell of
+your boote bin took away. I would be happy to lend an and, Sir, to
+recover that property. How all will end otherwise I regrett. Knowing
+well who it will be that takes so mutch consern for your safety, you
+cannot doubt who I am, and if you wishes to meat me quiet to consult,
+you need only to name the place and time in the times newspaper,
+which I sees it every day. It must be put part in one days times, for
+the daite, saying a friend will show on sich a night, and in next days
+times for the place, saying the dogs will meet at sich and sich a place,
+and it shall hev the attenshen of your</p>
+
+<p class="right small-caps">Fast Frend.&rdquo;</p>
+</blockquote>
+
+<p>&ldquo;That's a cool letter, upon my word,&rdquo; said David Arden.
+&ldquo;Have you an idea who wrote it?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Yes, a very good guess. I'll tell you all that if you allow
+me, just now. I should say, indeed, an absolute certainty, for
+I have had another this afternoon with the name of the writer
+signed, and he turns out to be the very man whom I suspected.
+Here it is.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>David Arden's curiosity was piqued. He took the last note
+and read as follows:&mdash;</p>
+
+<blockquote>
+<p>&ldquo;<span class="small-caps">Sir</span>,&mdash;My last Letter must have came to Hand, and you been in
+reseet of it since the 11th instant, has took no Notice thereoff, I have
+No wish for justice, as you may Suppose, and has no Fealing against
+you Mr. Longcluse Persanelly and to shew you plainly that Such is
+the case, I will meet you for an intervue if such is your Wishes in your
+Own house, if you should Rayther than name another place. I do
+not objeck To one frend been Present providing such Be not a lawyer.
+The subjek been Dellicat, I will Attend any hour and Place you
+appoint. If you should faile I must put my Proofs in the hands of
+the police, for I will take it for a sure sine of guilt if you fail after this
+to appoint for a meating.</p>
+
+<p class="right">
+<span style="margin-right: 2em;">&ldquo;I remain, Sir, Your obedient servent,</span><br/>
+&ldquo;<span class="small-caps">Paul Davies</span>.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;No. 2 Rosemary Court.&rdquo;</p>
+</blockquote>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Well, that's pretty frank,&rdquo; said Longcluse, observing that
+he had read to the end.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Extremely. What do you suppose his object to be&mdash;to
+extort money?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Possibly; but he may have another object. In any case, he
+wants to make money by this move.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Very audacious, then. He must know, if he is fit for his
+<a class="pagenum" name="Page_122" title="122"> </a>
+trade, how much risk there is in it; and his signing his name
+and address to his letter, and seeking an interview with a
+witness by seems to me utterly infatuated,&rdquo; said David Arden,
+with his eye upon Mr. Longcluse.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;So it does, except upon one supposition; I mean that the
+man believes his story,&rdquo; said Mr. Longcluse, walking beside
+him, for they had resumed their march towards the gate.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Really! believes that you committed the murder?&rdquo;
+said Uncle David, again coming to a halt and looking full at
+him.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I can't quite account for it otherwise,&rdquo; said Longcluse;
+&ldquo;and I think the right course is for me to meet him. But I
+have no intimacies in London, and that is my difficulty.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;How? Why don't you arrest him?&rdquo; said David Arden.</p>
+
+<p>David Arden had seldom felt so oddly. A quarter-of-an-hour
+since, he expected to have been seated in his carriage with his
+ward and Vivian Darnley, driving into town in quiet humdrum
+fashion, by this time. How like a dream was the actual scene!
+Here he was, standing on the grass among the noble timber,
+under the moonlight, with the pale face beside him which had
+begun to haunt him so oddly. The strange smile of his
+mysterious companion, the cold tone that jarred sweetly, somehow,
+on his ear, lending a sinister eccentricity to the extraordinary
+confession he was making.</p>
+
+<p>In this situation, which had come about almost unaccountably,
+there was a strange feeling of unreality. Was this man, from
+whom he had felt an indescribable repulsion, now by his side,
+and drawing him, in this solitude, into a mysterious confidence?
+and had not this confidence an <ins title="unacountable">unaccountable</ins> though distant
+relation to the vague suspicions that had touched his mind?
+With a little effort he resumed,&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I beg pardon, but if the case were mine I should put the
+letters at once into the hands of the police and prosecute him.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Precisely my own first impulse. But the letters are more
+cautiously framed than you might at first sight suppose. I
+should be placed in an awkward position were my prosecution
+to fail. <em>I</em> am obliged to think of this because, although I am
+nothing to the public, I am a good deal to myself. But I've
+resolved to take a course not less bold, though less public. I
+am determined to meet him face to face with an unexceptionable
+witness present, and to discover distinctly whether he acts
+from fraud or delusion, and then to proceed accordingly. I
+have communicated with him.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Oh, really!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Yes, I was clear I ought to meet him, but I would consent
+to nothing with an air of concealment.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I think you were right, Sir.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p><a class="pagenum" name="Page_123" title="123"> </a>&ldquo;He wanted our meeting by night on board a Thames
+boat; then in a dilapidated house in Southwark; then in
+a deserted house that is to be let in Thames Street; but I
+named my own house, in Bolton Street, at half-past twelve to-night.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Then you really wish to see him. I suppose you have
+thought it well over; but I am always for taking such
+miscreants promptly by the throat. However, as you say,
+cases differ, and I daresay you are well advised.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;And now may I venture a request, which, were it not for
+two facts within my knowledge, I should not presume to make?
+But I venture it to you, who take so special an interest in
+this case, because you have already taken trouble and, like
+myself, contributed money to aid the chances of discovery;
+and because only this evening you said you would bestow
+more labour, more time, and more money with pleasure
+to procure the least chance of an additional light upon
+it: now it strikes me as just possible that the writer of those
+letters may be, to some extent, honest. Though utterly mistaken
+about me, still he may have evidence to give, be it worth
+much or little; and so, Mr. Arden, having the pleasure of being
+known to some members of your family, although till to-night
+by name only to you, I beg as a great kindness to a man in a
+difficulty, and possibly in the interests of the public, that you
+will be so good as to accompany me, and be present at the
+interview, that cannot be so well conducted before any other
+witness whom I can take with me.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>David Arden paused for a moment, but independently quite
+of his interest in this case: he felt a strange curiosity about
+this pale man, whose eyes from under their oblique brows
+gleamed back the cold moonlight; while a smile, the character
+of which a little puzzled him, curled his nostril and his thin lip,
+and showed the glittering edge of his teeth. Did it look like
+treachery? or was it defiance, or derision? It was a face, thus
+seen, so cadaverous and Mephistophelian, that an artist would
+have given something for a minute to fix a note of it in white
+and black.</p>
+
+<p>David Arden was not to be disturbed in a practical matter
+by a pictorial effect, however, and in another moment he
+said&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Yes, Mr. Longcluse, as you desire it I will accompany
+you, and see this fellow, and hear what he has to say. <em>Certainly.</em>&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;That's very kind&mdash;only what I should have expected, also,
+from your public spirit. I'm extremely obliged.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>They resumed their walk towards the gate.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I shall get into my brougham and call at home, to tell them
+<a class="pagenum" name="Page_124" title="124"> </a>
+not to expect me for an hour or so. And what is the number of
+your house?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>He told him; and David Arden having offered to take him,
+in his carriage, to the place where his own awaited him, which
+however he declined, they parted for a little time, and Mr.
+Arden's brougham quickly disappeared under the shadow of the
+tall trees that lined the curving road.</p>
+
+<div class="image-center chapter-end">
+<img src="images/ep04.png" width="232" height="128" alt=""/>
+</div>
+
+<div class="image-center chapter-beginning"><a class="pagenum" name="Page_125" title="125"> </a>
+<img src="images/ch23.png" width="443" height="83" alt=""/>
+</div>
+
+<h2 class="no-break">CHAPTER XXIII.<br/>
+<small>THE MEETING.</small></h2>
+
+<div><img class="drop-cap" src="images/drop_a.png" width="72" height="73" alt=""/></div>
+
+<p class="drop-cap"><span class="upper-case">As</span> David Arden drove towards town, his confusion
+rather increased. Why should Mr. Longcluse select
+him for this confidence? There were men in the City
+whom he must know, if not intimately, at least much
+better than he knew him. It was a very strange occurrence; and
+was not Mr. Longcluse's manner, also, strange? Was he not,
+somehow, very oddly cool under a charge of murder? There
+was something, it seemed, indefinably incongruous in the nature
+of his story, his request, and his manner.</p>
+
+<hr class="thought-break"/>
+
+<p>It was five or ten minutes before the appointed time when
+David Arden and Longcluse met in the latter gentleman's
+&ldquo;study&rdquo; in Bolton Street. There was a slight, odd flutter at
+Longcluse's heart, although his pale face betrayed no sign of
+agitation, as the shuffling tread of a heavy foot was heard on the
+doorsteps, followed by a faint knock, like that of a tremulous
+postman. It was the preconcerted summons of Mr. Paul
+Davies.</p>
+
+<p>Longcluse smiled at David Arden and raised his finger, as he
+lightly drew near the room door, with an air of warning. He
+wished to remind his companion that he was to receive their
+visitor alone. Mr. Arden nodded, and Mr. Longcluse withdrew.
+In a minute more the servant opened the study-door, and
+said&mdash;&ldquo;Mr. Davies, Sir.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>And the tall ex-detective entered, and looked with a silky
+simper stealthily to the right and to the left from the corners of
+his eyes, and glided in, shutting the door behind him.</p>
+
+<p>Uncle David received this man without even a nod. He eyed
+him sternly, from his chair at the end of the table.</p>
+
+<p><a class="pagenum" name="Page_126" title="126"> </a>&ldquo;Sit in that chair, please,&rdquo; said he, pointing to a seat at the
+other end.</p>
+
+<p>The ex-policeman made his best bow, and turning out his toes
+very much, he shuffled with his habitual sly smirk on, to the
+chair, in which he seated himself, and with his big red hands
+on the table began turning, and twisting, and twiddling a short
+pencil, which was a good deal bitten at the uncut end, between
+his fingers and thumbs.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You came here to see Mr. Longcluse?&rdquo; asked David
+Arden.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;A few words of business at his desire. Sir, I ask your
+parding, I came, Sir, by his wishes, not mine, which has brought
+me here at his request.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;And who am I, do you suppose?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>The man, still smiling, looked at him shrewdly. &ldquo;Well, I
+don't know, I'm sure; I may 'a' seen you.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Did you ever see that gentleman?&rdquo; said David Arden, as
+Mr. Longcluse entered the room.</p>
+
+<p>The ex-detective looked also shrewdly at Longcluse, but without
+any light of recognition. &ldquo;I may have seen him, Sir. Yes, I
+saw him in Saint George's, Hanover Square, the day Lord Charles
+Dillingsworth married Miss Wygram, the <em>hairess</em>. I saw him
+at Sydenham the second week in February last when the Freemasons'
+dinner was there; and I saw him on the night of the
+match between Hood and Markham, at the Saloon Tavern.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Do you know my name?&rdquo; said David Arden.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Well, no, I don't at present remember.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Do you know that gentleman's <ins title="name!">name?</ins>&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;His name?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Ay, his name.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Well, no; I may have heard it, and I may bring it to mind,
+by-and-by.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Longcluse smiled and shrugged, looking at Mr. Arden, and
+he said to the man&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;So you don't know <em>that</em> gentleman's name, nor mine?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>The man looked at each, hard and a little anxiously, like
+a person who feels that he may be making a very serious
+mistake; but after a pause he said decisively&mdash;&ldquo;No, I don't at
+present. I say I don't know your names, either of you
+gentlemen, and I <em>don't</em>.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>The two gentlemen exchanged glances.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Is either of us as tall as Mr. Longcluse?&rdquo; asked David
+Arden, standing up.</p>
+
+<p>The man stood up also, to make his inspection.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You're both,&rdquo; he said, after a pause, &ldquo;much about his
+height.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Is either of us like him?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p><a class="pagenum" name="Page_127" title="127"> </a>&ldquo;No,&rdquo; answered Davies, after a pause.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Did you write these letters?&rdquo; asked Mr. Longcluse laughing.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Well, I did, or I didn't, and what's that to you?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Something, as you shall know presently.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I think you're trying it on. I reckon this is a bit of a plant.
+I don't care a scratch o' that pencil if it be. I wrote them letters,
+and I said nothin' but what's true, and I'll go with you now to the
+station if you like, and tell all I knows.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>The fellow seemed nettled, and laughed viciously a little, and
+swaggered at the close of his speech. The faintest flush
+imaginable tinged Longcluse's forehead, as he shot a searching
+glance at him.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;No, we don't want that,&rdquo; said he; &ldquo;but you may be of more
+use in another way, although just now you are in the wrong box,
+and have mistaken your man, for <em>I</em> am Mr. Longcluse. You
+have been misinformed, you see, as to the <ins title="indentity">identity</ins> of the person
+you suspect; but some person you have, no doubt, in your mind,
+and possibly a case worth sifting, although you have been deceived
+as to his name. Describe the appearance of the man you
+supposed to be Mr. Longcluse. You may be frank with me; I
+mean you no harm.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I defy any man to harm me, Sir, if you please, so long as I
+do my dooty,&rdquo; said Paul Davies. &ldquo;Mr. Longcluse, if that be his
+name, the man I mean, he's about your height, with round
+shoulders and red hair, and talks with a north-country twang on
+his tongue; he's a bit rougher, and a <ins title="swaggering'">swaggerin'</ins> cove, and a
+yard o' red beard over his waistcoat, and bigger hands a deal
+than you, and broader feet.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;And have you a case against him?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Partly, but it ain't, Sir, if you please, by no means so complete
+as would answer as yet. If I was sure you were really Mr.
+Longcluse, I could say more, for I partly guess who this other
+gent is&mdash;a most respectable party. I think I do know you, Sir,
+by appearance; if you had your 'at on, Sir, I could say to a
+certainty. But I think, Sir, if you please, I'm not very far
+wrong when I say that I would identify you for Mr. David
+Arden.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;So I am; that is quite true.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Thank you, Sir, I am obleeged; that's very quietin' to my
+mind, Sir, having full confidence in your character; and if
+you, Sir, please to tell me <em>that</em> gentleman is undoubtingly Mr.
+Longcluse, the propperieter of this house, I must 'a' been let into
+a mistake; I don't think they was agreenin' of me, but it was a
+mistake, if you please, Sir, if you say so.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;This is Mr. Longcluse&mdash;I know of no other&mdash;and he resides
+in this house,&rdquo; said David Arden. &ldquo;But if you have information
+<a class="pagenum" name="Page_128" title="128"> </a>
+to give respecting that red-bearded fellow, there is no reason
+why you should not give it forthwith to the police.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Parding me, Sir, if you please, Mr. Arden. There is, I
+would say, strong reasons for a poor man in rayther anxious
+circumstances, like myself, Sir, 'aving an affectionate mother to,
+in a measure, support, and been himself unfortunately rayther
+hard up, he can't answer it nohow to his conscience if he lets a
+hoppertunity like the present pass him and his aged mother by
+unimproved. There been a reward offered, Sir, I naturally wish,
+Sir, if you please, to earn it myself by valuable evidence leading
+to the conviction of the guilty cove; and if I was to tell all I
+knows and 'av' made out by my own hindustry to the force, Sir,
+other persons would, don't you conceive, Sir, draw the reward,
+and me and my mother should go without. If I could get a
+hinterview with the man I 'av' bin a-gettin' things together for,
+I'd lead him, I 'av' no doubt, to make such hadmissions as would
+clench the prosecution, and vendicate justice.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I see what you mean,&rdquo; said David Arden.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;And fair enough, I think,&rdquo; added Longcluse.</p>
+
+<div class="image-center chapter-end">
+<img src="images/ep04.png" width="232" height="128" alt=""/>
+</div>
+
+<div class="image-center chapter-beginning"><a class="pagenum" name="Page_129" title="129"> </a>
+<img src="images/ch24.png" width="466" height="100" alt=""/>
+</div>
+
+<h2 class="no-break">CHAPTER XXIV.<br/>
+<small>MR. LONGCLUSE FOLLOWS A SHADOW.</small></h2>
+
+<div><img class="drop-cap" src="images/drop_t.png" width="72" height="72" alt=""/></div>
+
+<p class="drop-cap"><span class="upper-case">The</span> ex-detective cleared his voice, shook his head, and
+smirked.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;A hinterview, gentlemen,&rdquo; said he, &ldquo;is worth much
+in the hands of a persuasive party. I have hanged
+several obnoxious characters, and let others in for penal for life,
+by means of a hinterview. You remember Spikes, gentlemen,
+as got into difficulties for breaking Mr. Winterbotham's desk?
+Spikes would have frusterated justice, if it wasn't for me. It
+was done in one hinterview. Says I, &lsquo;Mr. Spikes, you have a
+wife and five children.&rsquo;&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>The recollection of Mr. Paul Davies' diplomacy was so
+gratifying to that smiling gentleman, that he could not forbear
+winking at his auditors as he proceeded.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;&lsquo;And my belief is, Mr. Spikes, Sir,&rsquo;&rdquo; he continued, &ldquo;&lsquo;that
+it was all the hinfluence of Tom Sprowles. It was Sprowles
+persuaded yer&mdash;it was him as got the whole thing up. That's
+my belief; and you did not want to do it, no-wise, and only consented
+to force the henges in the belief that Sprowles wanted to
+read the papers, and no more. I have a bad opinion of Sprowles,&rsquo;
+says I, &lsquo;for deceiving you, I may say innocently;&rsquo; and talking
+this way, you conceive, I got it all out of him, and he's under
+penal for life. Whenever you want to get round a man, and to
+turn him inside out, your way is to sympath<em>ise</em> with him. If I
+had but an hinterview with that man, I know enough to draw it
+out of him, every bit. It's all done by sympath<em>ising</em>.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;But do you think you can discover the man?&rdquo; asked Mr.
+Arden.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I'm sure to make him out, if you please, Sir; I'll find out all
+about him. I'd a found out the facks long ago, but for the
+mistake, which it occurred most unlucky. I saw him twice
+<a class="pagenum" name="Page_130" title="130"> </a>
+sence, and I know well where to look for him; and I'll have it
+all right before long, I'm thinkin'.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;That will do, then, for the present,&rdquo; said Mr. Longcluse.
+&ldquo;You have said all you have to say, and you see into what a
+serious mistake you have blundered; but I sha'n't give you any
+trouble about it&mdash;it is too ridiculous. Good-night, Mr. Davies.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;No mistake of mine, Sir, please. Misinformed, Sir, you will
+kindly remark&mdash;misinformed, if you please&mdash;misinformed, as may
+occur to the sharpest party going. Good-night, gentlemen; I
+takes my leave without no unpleasant feelin', and good wishes
+for your 'ealth and 'appiness, both, gentlemen.&rdquo; And blandly,
+and with a sly sleepy smile, this insinuating person withdrew.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;It is the reward he is thinking of,&rdquo; said Longcluse.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Yes, he won't spare himself; you mentioned that your own
+suspicions respecting him were but vague,&rdquo; said David Arden.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I merely stated what I saw to the coroner, and it was
+answered that he was watching the Frenchman Lebas, because
+the detective police, before Paul Davies' dismissal, had received
+orders to keep an eye on all foreigners; and he hoped to conciliate
+the authorities, and get a pension, by collecting and
+furnishing information. The police did not seem to think his
+dogging and watching the unfortunate little fellow really meant
+more than this.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Very likely. It is a very odd affair. I wonder who that
+fellow is whom he described. He did not give a hint as to the
+circumstances which excited his suspicions.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;It <em>is</em> strange. But that man, Paul Davies, kept his eye
+upon Lebas from the motive I mentioned, and this circumstance
+may have led to his seeing more of the matter
+than, with the reward in his mind, he cares to make known at
+present. I think I did right in meeting him face to face.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Quite right, Sir.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;It has been always a rule with me to go straight at everything.
+I think the best diplomacy is directness, and that the
+truest caution lies in courage.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Precisely my opinion, Mr. Longcluse,&rdquo; said Uncle David,
+looking on him with eyes of approbation. He was near adding
+something hearty in the spirit of our ancestors' saying, &ldquo;I
+hope you and I, Sir, may be better acquainted;&rdquo; but something
+in the look and peculiar face of this unknown Mr. Longcluse
+chilled him, and he only said&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;As you say, Mr. Longcluse, courage is safety, and honesty
+the best policy. Good-night, Sir.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;A thousand thanks, Mr. Arden. Might I ask one more
+favour, that you will endorse on each of these threatening
+letters a memorandum of the facts of this strange interview?&mdash;I
+<a class="pagenum" name="Page_131" title="131"> </a>
+mean a sentence or two, which may at any time confound
+this fellow, should he turn out to be a villain.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Certainly,&rdquo; said Mr. Arden thoughtfully, and he sat down
+again, and wrote a few lines on the back of each, which, having
+signed, he handed them to Mr. Longcluse, with the question,
+&ldquo;Will that answer?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Perfectly, thank you very much; it is indeed impossible for
+me to thank you as I ought and wish to,&rdquo; said Mr. Longcluse
+with effusion, extending his hand at the same time; but Mr.
+Arden took it without much warmth, and said, in comparison a
+little drily&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;No need to thank me, Mr. Longcluse; as you said at first,
+there are motives quite sufficient, of a kind for which you can
+owe me, personally, no thanks whatever, to induce the very
+slight trouble of coming here.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Well, Mr. Arden, I <em>am</em> very <em>much</em> obliged to you, notwithstanding;&rdquo;
+and so he gratefully saw him to the door, and
+smiled and bowed him off, and stood for a moment as his
+carriage whirled down the short street.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;He does not like me&mdash;nor I, perhaps, him. Ha! ha! ha!&rdquo;
+he laughed, very softly and reservedly, looking down on the
+flags. &ldquo;What an odd thing it is! Those instincts and antipathies,
+they are very odd.&rdquo; All this, except the faint laughter,
+was in thought.</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Longcluse stepped back. He was negatively happy&mdash;he
+was rid of an anxiety. He was positively happy&mdash;he had been
+better received by Miss Arden, this evening, than he had ever
+been before. So he went to his bed with a light heart, and a
+head full of dreams.</p>
+
+<p>All the next day, one beautiful image haunted Longcluse's
+imagination. He was delayed in town; he had to consult
+about operations in foreign stocks; he had many words to say,
+directions to modify, and calls to make on this man and that.
+He had hoped to be at Mortlake Hall at three o'clock. But it
+was past six before he could disentangle himself from the
+tenacious meshes of his business. Never had he thought it
+so irksome. Was he not rich enough&mdash;too rich? Why should
+he longer submit to a servitude so wearisome? It was high
+time he should begin to enjoy his days in the sunshine of his
+gold and the companionship of his beautiful idol. But &ldquo;man
+proposes,&rdquo; says the ancient saw, &ldquo;and God disposes.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>It was just seven o'clock when Mr. Longcluse descended at
+the steps of old Mortlake Hall.</p>
+
+<p>Sir Reginald, who is writhing under a letter from the attorney
+of the millionaire mortgagee of his Yorkshire estate, making
+an alternative offer, either to call in the principal sum or to
+allow it to stand out on larger interest, had begged of Mr.
+<a class="pagenum" name="Page_132" title="132"> </a>
+Longcluse, last night, to give him a few words of counsel some
+day. He had, in a quiet talk the evening before, taken the
+man of huge investments rather into his confidence.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I don't know, Mr.&mdash;a&mdash;Mr. Longcluse, whether you are
+aware how cruelly my property is tied up,&rdquo; he said, as he
+talked in a low tone with him, in a corner of the drawing-room.
+&ldquo;A life estate, and my son, who declines bearing any part of
+the burden of his own extravagance, will do nothing to
+facilitate my efforts to pay his debts for him; and I declare
+solemnly, if they raise the interest on this very oppressive
+mortgage, I don't know how on earth I can pay my insurances.
+I don't see how I am to do it. I should be so extremely
+obliged to you, Mr. Longcluse, if you would, with your vast
+experience and knowledge in all&mdash;all financial matters, give me
+any advice that strikes you&mdash;if you could, with perfect
+convenience, afford so much time. I don't really know what
+rate of interest is usual. I only know this, that interest, as a
+rule, has been steadily declining ever since I can remember&mdash;perpetually
+declining; I mean, of course, upon perfect security
+like this; and now this confounded harpy wants, after ten
+years, to <em>raise</em> it! I believe they want to drive me out of the
+world, among them! and they well know the cruelty of it, for I
+have never been able to pay them a single half-year punctually.
+Will you take some tea?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>So Longcluse had promised his advice very gladly next day;
+and now he asked for Sir Reginald. Sir Reginald was very
+particularly engaged at this moment on business; Mr. Arden
+was with him at present; but if Mr. Longcluse would wait for
+a few minutes, Sir Reginald would be most happy to see him.
+So there was to be a little wait. How could he better pass the
+interval than in Miss Arden's company?</p>
+
+<div class="image-center chapter-end">
+<img src="images/ep24.png" width="281" height="66" alt=""/>
+</div>
+
+<div class="image-center chapter-beginning"><a class="pagenum" name="Page_133" title="133"> </a>
+<img src="images/ch09.png" width="464" height="77" alt=""/>
+</div>
+
+<h2 class="no-break">CHAPTER XXV.<br/>
+<small>A TETE-A-TETE.</small></h2>
+
+<div><img class="drop-cap" src="images/drop_u.png" width="71" height="72" alt=""/></div>
+
+<p class="drop-cap"><span class="upper-case">Up</span> to the drawing-room went Mr. Longcluse, and there
+he found Miss Arden finishing a drawing. He
+fancied a very slight flush on her cheek as he
+entered. Was there really a heightening of that
+beautiful tint as she smiled? How lovely her long lashes, and
+her even little teeth, and the lustrous darkness of her eyes, in
+that subdued light!</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I so wanted advice, Mr. Longcluse, and you have come in
+so fortunately! I am not satisfied with my sky and mountains,
+and the foreground where the light touches that withered
+branch is a horrible failure. In nature, it looked quite beautiful.
+I remember it so well. It looked on fire, almost. This
+is Saxteen Castle, near Golden Friars, and that is a bit of the
+lake and those are the fells. I sketched it in pencil, and
+trusted to memory for colouring. It was just at the most
+picturesque moment, when the sun was going down between
+the two mountains that overhang the little town on the west.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Sunset is very well expressed. You indicated all those
+long shadows, Miss Arden, in pencil, and I envy your perspective,
+and I think your colouring so extremely good! The
+distances are admirably marked. Try a little cadmium, burnt
+sienna, and lake for the intense touches of light in the foreground,
+on that barkless branch. Your own eye will best
+regulate the proportions. I am one of those vandals who
+prefer colour a little too bold and overdone to any timidity in
+that respect. Exuberance in a beginner is always, in my mind,
+an augury of excellence. It is so easy to moderate afterwards.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Yes, I daresay; I'm very glad you advise that, because I
+always thought so myself; but I was half afraid to act on it. I
+<a class="pagenum" name="Page_134" title="134"> </a>
+think that is about the tint&mdash;a little more yellow, perhaps.
+Yes; how does it look now?&mdash;what do you think?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Now judge yourself, Miss Arden. Do not those three
+sharp little touches of reflected fire light up the whole drawing?
+I say it is admirable. It is really quite a beautiful little drawing.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I'm growing so vain! you will quite spoil me, Mr. Longcluse.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Truth will never spoil any one. Praise is very delightful.
+I have not had much of it in my day, but I think it makes one
+better as well as happier; and to speak simple truth of you,
+Miss Arden, is inevitably to praise you.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Those are compliments, Mr. Longcluse, and they bewilder
+me&mdash;anything one does not know how to answer; so I would
+rather you pointed me out four or five faults in my drawing,
+and I should be very well content if you said no more. I
+believe you know the scenery of Golden Friars.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I do. Beautiful, and so romantic, and full of legends! the
+whole place with its belongings is a poem.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;So I think. And the hotel&mdash;the inn I prefer calling it&mdash;the
+&lsquo;George and Dragon,&rsquo; is so picturesque and delightfully
+old, and so comfortable! Our head-quarters were there for
+two or three weeks. And did you see Childe Waylin's
+Leap?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Yes, an awful scene; what a terrible precipice! I saw it
+to great advantage from a boat, while a thunderstorm was
+glaring and pealing over its summit. You know the legend, of
+course?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;No, I did not hear it.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Oh, it is a very striking one, and won't take many words to
+tell. Shall I tell it?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Pray do,&rdquo; said Alice, with her bright look of expectation.</p>
+
+<p>He smiled sadly. Perhaps the story returned with an
+allegoric melancholy to his mind. With a sigh and a smile he
+continued&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Childe Waylin fell in love with a phantom lady, and walked
+day and night along the fells&mdash;people thought in solitude,
+really lured on by the beautiful apparition, which, as his love
+increased, grew less frequent, more distant and fainter, until at
+last, in the despair of his wild pursuit, he threw himself over
+that terrible precipice, and so perished. I have faith in
+instinct&mdash;faith in passion, which is but a form of instinct. I
+am sure he did wisely.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I sha'n't dispute it; it is not a case likely to happen often.
+These phantom ladies seem to have given up practice of late
+years, or else people have become proof against their wiles, and
+neither follow, nor adore, nor lament them.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p><a class="pagenum" name="Page_135" title="135"> </a>&ldquo;I don't think these phantom ladies are at all out of date,&rdquo;
+said Mr. Longcluse.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Well, men have grown wiser, at all events.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;No wiser, no happier; in such a case there is no room for
+what the world calls wisdom. Passion is absolute, and as for
+happiness, that or despair hangs on the turn of a die.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I have made that shadow a little more purple&mdash;do you
+think it an improvement?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Yes, certainly. How well it throws out that bit of the ruin
+that catches the sunlight! You have made a very poetical
+sketch; you have given not merely the outlines, but the
+character of that singular place&mdash;the <i lang="la" xml:lang="la">genus loci</i> is there.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Just as Mr. Longcluse had finished this complimentary
+criticism, the door opened, and rather unexpectedly Richard
+Arden entered the room. Very decidedly <i lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">de trop</i> at that
+moment, his friend thought Mr. Arden. Longcluse meant
+again to have turned the current of their talk into the channel
+he liked best, and here was interruption. But was not Richard
+Arden his sworn brother, and was he not sure to make an
+excuse of some sort, and take his leave, and thus restore him to
+his <i lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">tête-à-tête</i>.</p>
+
+<p>But was there&mdash;or was it fancy&mdash;a change scarcely perceptible,
+but unpleasant, in the manner of this sworn brother?
+Was it not very provoking, and a little odd, that he did not go
+away, but stayed on and on, till at length a servant came in
+with a message from Sir Reginald to Mr. Longcluse, to say
+that he would be very happy to see him whenever he chose to
+come to his room? Mr. Longcluse was profoundly vexed.
+Richard Arden, however, had resumed his old manner pretty
+nearly. Was the interruption he had persisted in designed, or
+only accidental? Could he suppose Richard Arden so stupid?
+He took his leave smiling, but with an uncomfortable misgiving
+at his heart.</p>
+
+<p>Richard Arden now proceeded in his own way, with some
+colouring and enormous suppression at discretion, to give his
+sister such an account as he thought would best answer of the
+interview he had just had with his father. Honestly related,
+what occurred between them was as follows:&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>Richard Arden had come on summons from his father.
+Without a special call, he never appeared at Mortlake while his
+father was there, and never in his absence but with an understanding
+that Sir Reginald was to hear nothing of it. He sat
+for a considerable time in the apartment that opened from his
+father's dressing-room. He heard the baronet's peevish voice
+ordering Crozier about. Something was dropped and broken,
+and the same voice was heard in angrier alto. Richard Arden
+looked out of the window and waited uncomfortably. He hated
+<a class="pagenum" name="Page_136" title="136"> </a>
+his father's pleadings with him, and he did not know for what
+purpose he had appointed this interview.</p>
+
+<p>The door opened, and Sir Reginald entered, limping a little,
+for his gout had returned slightly. He was leaning on a stick.
+His thin, dark face and prominent eyes looked angry, and he
+turned about and poked his dressing-room door shut with the
+point of his stick, before taking any notice of his son.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Sit down, if you please, in that chair,&rdquo; he said, pointing to
+the particular seat he meant him to occupy with two vicious
+little pokes, as if he were running a small-sword through it. &ldquo;I
+wrote to ask you to come, Sir, merely to say a word respecting
+your sister, for whom, if not for other members of your family,
+you still retain, I suppose, some consideration and natural
+affection.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Here was a pause which Richard Arden did not very well
+know what to do with. However, as his father's fierce eyes
+were interrogating him, he murmured&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Certainly, Sir.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Yes, and under that impression I showed you Lord Wynderbroke's
+letter. He is to dine here to-morrow at a quarter to
+eight&mdash;please to recollect&mdash;precisely. Do you hear?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I do, Sir, everything.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You must meet him. Let us not appear more divided than
+we are. You know Wynderbroke&mdash;he's peculiar. Why the
+devil shouldn't we appear united? I don't say <em>be</em> united, for you
+won't. But there is something owed to decency. I suppose
+you admit that? And before people, confound you, Sir, can't
+we appear affectionate? He's a quiet man, Wynderbroke, and
+makes a great deal of these domestic sentiments. So you'll
+please to show some respect and affection while he's present,
+and I mean to show some affection for you; and after that, Sir,
+you may go to the devil for me! I hope you understand?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Perfectly, Sir.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;As to Wynderbroke, the thing is settled&mdash;it is <em>there</em>.&rdquo; He
+pointed to his desk. &ldquo;What I told you before, I tell you now&mdash;you
+must see that your sister doesn't make a fool of herself. I
+have nothing more to say to you at present&mdash;unless you have
+something to say to me?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>This latter part of the sentence had something sharp and interrogative
+in it. There was just a chance, it seemed to imply,
+that his son might have something to say upon the one point
+that lay near the old man's heart.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Nothing, Sir,&rdquo; said Richard, rising.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;No, no; so I supposed. You may go, Sir&mdash;nothing.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Of this interview, one word of the real purport of which he
+could not tell to his sister, he gave her an account very slight
+indeed, but rather pleasant.</p>
+
+<div class="image-center chapter-beginning"><a class="pagenum" name="Page_137" title="137"> </a>
+<img src="images/ch26.png" width="444" height="86" alt=""/>
+</div>
+
+<h2 class="no-break">CHAPTER XXVI.<br/>
+<small>THE GARDEN AT MORTLAKE.</small></h2>
+
+<div><img class="drop-cap" src="images/drop_a.png" width="72" height="73" alt=""/></div>
+
+<p class="drop-cap"><span class="upper-case">Alice</span> leaned back in her chair, smiling, and very
+much pleased.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;So my father seems disposed to relent ever so
+little&mdash;and ever so little, you know, is better than
+nothing,&rdquo; said Richard Arden.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I'm so glad, Dick, that he wishes you to take your dinner with
+us to-morrow; it is a very good sign. It would be so delightful
+if you could be at home with us, as you used to be.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You are a good little soul, Alice&mdash;a dear little thing! This
+is very pretty,&rdquo; he said, looking at her drawing. &ldquo;What is
+it?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;The ruined castle near the northern end of the lake at
+Golden Friars. Mr. Longcluse says it is pretty good. Is he to
+dine here, do you know?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;No&mdash;I don't know&mdash;I hope not,&rdquo; said Richard shortly.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Hope not! why?&rdquo; said she. &ldquo;I thought you liked him
+extremely.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I thought he was very well for a sort of outdoor acquaintance
+for <em>men</em>; but I don't even know <em>that</em>, now. There's
+no use in speaking to Lady May, but I warn you&mdash;you had
+better drop him. There is very little known about him, but
+there is a great deal that is not pleasant <em>said</em>.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Really?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Yes, really.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;But you used to speak so highly of him. I'm so surprised!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I did not know half what people said of him. I've heard a
+great deal since.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;But is it true?&rdquo; asked Alice.</p>
+
+<p><a class="pagenum" name="Page_138" title="138"> </a>&ldquo;It is nothing to me whether it is true or not. It is enough
+if a man is talked about uncomfortably, to make it unpleasant
+to know him. We owe nothing to Mr. Longcluse; there is no
+reason why you should have an acquaintance that is not desirable.
+<em>I</em> mean to drop him quietly, and you <em>can't</em> know him, really
+you <em>mustn't</em>, Alice.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I don't know. It seems to me very hard,&rdquo; said Miss Alice
+spiritedly. &ldquo;It is not many days since you spoke of him so
+highly; and I was quite pained when you came in just now. I
+don't know whether he perceived it, but I think he must. I
+only know that I thought you were so cold and strange to him,
+your manner so unlike what it always was before. I thought
+you had been quarrelling. I fancied he was vexed, and I felt
+quite sorry; and I don't think what you say, Richard, is manly,
+or like yourself. You used to praise him so, and fight his
+battles; and he is, though very distinguished in some ways,
+rather a stranger in London; and people, you told me, envy
+him, and try in a cowardly way to injure him; and what more
+easy than to hint discreditable things of people? and you did
+not believe a word of those reports when last you spoke of him;
+and considering that he had no people to stand by him in
+London, or to take his part, and that he may never even hear the
+things that are said by low people about him, don't you think it
+would be cowardly of us, and positively base to treat him so?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Upon my word, Miss Alice, that is very good oratory indeed!
+I don't think I ever heard you so eloquent before, at
+least upon the wrongs of one of my sex.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Now, Dick, that sneer won't do. There may possibly be
+reasons why it would have been wiser never to have made Mr.
+Longcluse's acquaintance; I can't say. Those reasons, however,
+you treated very lightly indeed a little time ago&mdash;you know
+you did&mdash;and now, upon no better, you say you are going to cut
+him. <em>I</em> can't bring myself to do any such thing. He is always
+looking in at Lady May's, and I can't help meeting him unless
+I am to cut her also. Now don't you see how odious I should
+appear, and how impossible it is?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I won't argue it now, dear Alice; there is quite time enough.
+I shall come an hour before dinner, to-morrow, and we can have
+a quiet talk; and I am quite sure I shall convince you. Mind,
+I don't say we should insult him,&rdquo; he laughed. &ldquo;I only say this,
+and I'll maintain it&mdash;and I'll show you why&mdash;that he is not a
+desirable acquaintance. We have taken him up very foolishly,
+and we <em>must</em> drop <ins title="him">him.</ins> And now, darling, good-bye.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>He kissed her&mdash;she kissed him. She looked grave for a
+moment after, after he had run down the stairs. He has
+quarrelled with Mr. Longcluse about something, she thought, as
+she stood at the window with the tip of her finger to her lip,
+<a class="pagenum" name="Page_139" title="139"> </a>
+looking at her brother as he mounted the showy horse which
+had cantered with him up and down Rotten Row for two hours
+or more, before he had ridden out to Mortlake. She saw him
+now ride away.</p>
+
+<p>It was near eight o'clock, and all this time Mr. Longcluse had
+been in confidence with Sir Reginald about his miserable mortgage.
+Mr. Longcluse was cautious; but there floated in his
+mind certain possible contingencies, under which he might
+perhaps make the financial adjustment, which Sir Reginald
+desired, very easy indeed to the worthy baronet.</p>
+
+<p>It was the tempting hour of evening when the birds begin to
+sing, and the level beams from the west glorify all objects.
+Alice put on her hat and ran out to the old gardens of Mortlake.
+They are enclosed in a grey wall, and lie one above the other in
+three terraces, with tall standard fruit trees, so old that their fruit
+was now dwarfed in size to half its earlier bearings, standing
+high with a dark and sylvan luxuriance, and at this moment,
+sheltering among their sunlit leaves, nestle and flutter the small
+birds whose whistlings cheer and sadden the evening air.
+Every tree and bush that bore fruit, in this old garden, had
+grown quite beyond the common stature of its kind, and a good
+gardener would have cut them all down fifty years ago. But
+there was a kind of sylvan and stately beauty in those wonderful
+lofty pear-trees, with their dense dark foliage, and in the
+standard cherries so tall and prim, and something homely and
+comfortable in the great straggling apples and plums, dappled
+with grey lichens and tufted with moss. There were flowers as
+well as fruits, of all sorts, in this garden. All its arrangements
+were out of date. There was an air, not actually of neglect&mdash;for
+it was weeded, and the walks were trim and gravelled&mdash;but
+of carelessness and rusticity, not unpleasant, in the place.
+Trees were allowed to straggle and spread, and rise aloft in the
+air, just as they pleased. Tall roses climbed the walls about
+the door, and clustered in nodding masses overhead; and no
+end of pretty annuals and other flowers, quite out of fashion,
+crowded the dishevelled currant bushes, and the forest of raspberries.
+Here and there were very tall myrtles, and the quince,
+and obsolete medlars, were discoverable among the other fruit-trees.
+The summits of the walls were in some places crowned,
+to the scandal of all decent gardening, with ivy, and a carved
+shaft in the centre of each garden supported a sun-dial as old
+as the Hall itself.</p>
+
+<p>There are fancies, as well as likings and lovings. Where
+there is a real worship, however cautiously masked&mdash;and Mr.
+Longcluse was by no means so&mdash;it is never a mystery to a clever
+girl. And such adoration, although it be not at all reciprocated,
+is sometimes hard to part with. There is something of the
+<a class="pagenum" name="Page_140" title="140"> </a>
+nature of compassion, with a little gratitude, perhaps, mingling
+in the pang which a gentle lady feels at having to discharge for
+ever an honest love and a true servant, and send him away to
+solitary suffering for her sake. Some little pang of reproach of
+this sensitive kind had, perhaps, armed her against her brother's
+sudden sentence of exclusion pronounced against Mr. Longcluse.</p>
+
+<p>The evening sunlight travelled over the ivy on the discoloured
+wall, and glittered on the leaves of the tall fruit-trees, in whose
+thick foliage the birds were still singing their vespers. Walking
+down the broad walk towards the garden-door, she felt the saddening
+influence of the hour returning; and as she reached the
+door, overclustered with roses, it opened, and Mr. Longcluse
+stood in the shadow before her.</p>
+
+<p>Miss Arden, thus surprised in the midst of thoughts which at
+that moment happened to be employed about him, showed for a
+second, as she suddenly stopped, something in her beautiful face
+almost amounting to embarrassment.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I was called away so suddenly to see Sir Reginald, that I went
+without saying good-bye; so I ran up to the drawing-room, and
+the servant told me I should probably find you here; and,
+really without reflecting&mdash;I act, I'm afraid, so much from
+impulse that I might appear very impertinent&mdash;I ventured to
+follow. What a beautiful evening! How charming the light!
+You, who are such an artist, and understand the poetry of colour
+so, must admire this cloister-like garden, so beautifully illuminated.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Was Mr. Longcluse also a very little embarrassed as he
+descanted thus on light and colour?</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;It is a very old garden and does very little credit, I'm afraid,
+to our care; but I greatly prefer it to our formal gardens and all
+their finery, in Yorkshire.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>She moved her hand as if she expected Mr. Longcluse to take
+it and his leave, for it was high time her visitor should &ldquo;order
+his wings and be off the west,&rdquo; in which quarter, as we know,
+lay Mr. Longcluse's habitation. He had stepped in, however,
+and the door closed softly before the light evening breeze that
+swung it gently. She was standing under the wild canopy of
+roses, and he under the sterner arch of grooved and fluted stone
+that overhung the doorway.</p>
+
+<div class="image-center chapter-beginning"><a class="pagenum" name="Page_141" title="141"> </a>
+<img src="images/ch09.png" width="464" height="77" alt=""/>
+</div>
+
+<h2 class="no-break">CHAPTER XXVII.<br/>
+<small>WINGED WORDS.</small></h2>
+
+<div><img class="drop-cap" src="images/drop_i.png" width="73" height="73" alt=""/></div>
+
+<p class="drop-cap drop-narrow"><span class="upper-case">&ldquo;I was</span> afraid I had vexed your brother somehow,&rdquo;
+said Mr. Longcluse&mdash;&ldquo;I thought he seemed to
+meet me a little formally. I should be so sorry if
+I had annoyed him by any accident!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>He paused, and Miss Arden said, half laughing&mdash;&ldquo;Oh, don't
+you know, Mr. Longcluse, that people are out of spirits sometimes,
+and now and then a little offended with all the world?
+It is nothing, of course.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;What a fib!&rdquo; whispered conscience in the young lady's
+pretty ear, while she smiled and blushed.</p>
+
+<p>Again she raised her hand a little, expecting Mr. Longcluse's
+farewell. But she looked a great deal too beautiful for a
+farewell. Mr. Longcluse could not deny himself a minute more,
+and he said, &ldquo;It is a year, Miss Arden, since I first saw you.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Is it really? I daresay.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Yes, at Lady May Penrose's. Yes, I remember it distinctly&mdash;so
+distinctly that I shall never forget any circumstance
+connected with it. It is exactly a year and four days. You
+smile, Miss Arden, because for you the event can have had no
+interest; for me it is different&mdash;how different I will not say.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Miss Arden coloured and then grew pale. She was very much
+embarrassed. She was about to say a word to end the interview,
+and go. Perhaps Mr. Longcluse was, as he said, impulsive&mdash;too
+precipitate and impetuous. He raised his hand entreatingly,&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Oh, Miss Arden, pray, only a word!&mdash;I must speak it.
+Ever since then&mdash;ever since that hour&mdash;I have been the slave of
+a single thought; I have worshipped before one beautiful image,
+with an impious adoration, for there is nothing&mdash;no sacrifice, no
+crime&mdash;I would shrink from for your sake. You can make of me
+what you will; all I possess, all my future, every thought and
+<a class="pagenum" name="Page_142" title="142"> </a>
+feeling and dream&mdash;all are yours. No, no; don't interrupt the
+few half desperate words I have to speak, they may move you to
+pity. Never before, in a life of terrible vicissitude, of much
+suffering, of many dangers, have I seen the human being who
+could move me as you have done. I did not believe my seared
+heart capable of passion. And I stand now aghast at what I
+have spoken. I stand at the brink of a worse death, by the
+word that trembles on your lips, than the cannon's mouth could
+give me. I see I have spoken rashly&mdash;I see it in your face&mdash;oh,
+Heaven! I see what you would say.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>His hands were clasped in desperate supplication, as he
+continued; and the fitful breeze shook the roses above them, and
+the fading leaves fell softly in a shower about his feet.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;No, don't speak&mdash;your silence is sacred. I sha'n't misinterpret&mdash;I
+conjure you, don't answer! Forget that I have spoken.
+Oh! let it, in mercy, be all forgotten, and let us meet again as
+if there never had been this moment of madness, and in pity&mdash;as
+you look for mercy&mdash;forget it and forgive it!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>He waited for no answer: he was gone: the door closed as it
+was before. Another breath of wind ruffled the roses, and a
+few more sere leaves fell where he had just been standing. She
+drew a long breath, like one awaking from a vision. She was
+trembling slightly. Never before had she seen such agony in a
+human face! All had happened so suddenly. It was an effort
+to believe it real. It seemed as if she could see nothing while
+he spoke, but that intense, pale face. She heard nothing but his
+deep and thrilling words. Now it seemed as if flowers, and
+trees, and wall, and roses, all emerged suddenly again from mist,
+and as if all the birds had resumed their singing after a silence.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Forget it&mdash;forgive it! Let it, as you look for mercy, be all
+forgotten. Let us meet again as if it never was.&rdquo; This strange
+petition still rang in the ears of the astonished girl.</p>
+
+<p>She was still too much flurried by the shock of this wild and
+sudden outbreak of passion, and appeal to mercy, quite to see
+her true course in the odd combination that had arisen. She
+was a little angry, and a little flattered. There was a confusion
+of resentment and compassion. What business had this Mr.
+Longcluse to treat her to those heroics! What right had he to
+presume that he would be listened to? How dared he ask her
+to treat all that had happened as if it had never been? How
+dared he seek to found on this unwarrantable liberty relations
+of mystery between them? How dared he fancy that she would
+consent to play at this game of deception with him?</p>
+
+<p>Mingled with these angry thoughts, however, were the recollections
+of his homage, his tone of melancholy deference ever
+since she had <ins title="know">known</ins> him, and his admiration.</p>
+
+<p>Underlying all his trifling talk, there had always been toward
+<a class="pagenum" name="Page_143" title="143"> </a>
+her a respect which flattered her, which could not have been
+exceeded had she been an empress in her own right. No, if he
+had said more than he had any right to suppose would be
+listened to, the extravagance was due to no want of respect for
+her, but to the vehemence of passion.</p>
+
+<p>He was driving now into town, at a great pace. His cogitations
+were still more perturbed. Had he, by one frantic
+precipitation, murdered his best hopes?</p>
+
+<p>One consolation at least he had. Being a man, not without
+reason, prone to suspicion, he had a deep conviction that, for
+some reason, Richard Arden was opposed to his suit, and had
+already begun to work upon Miss Arden's mind to his prejudice.
+His best chance, then, he still thought, was to anticipate that
+danger by a declaration. If that declaration could only be
+forgiven, and the little scene at old Mortlake garden door
+sponged out, might not his chances stand better far than before?
+Would not the past, though never spoken of, give meaning, fire,
+and melancholy to things else insignificant, and keep him always
+before her, and her alone, be his demeanour and language ever
+so reserved and cold, as an impassioned lover? Did not his
+knowledge of human nature assure him that these relations
+of mystery would, more than any other, favour his fortunes?</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;That she should consign what has passed, in a few impetuous
+moments, to oblivion and silence, is no unreasonable prayer,
+and one as easy to grant as to will it. She will think it over,
+and, for my part, I will meet her as if nothing had ever happened
+to change our trifling but friendly relations. I wish I knew what
+Richard Arden was about. I soon shall. Yes, I shall&mdash;I soon
+shall.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>An opportunity seemed to offer sooner even than he had
+hoped; for as he drove towards St. James's Street, passing one
+of Richard Arden's clubs, he saw that young gentleman ascending
+the steps with Lord Wynderbroke.</p>
+
+<p>Longcluse stopped his brougham, jumped out, and overtook
+Richard Arden in the hall, where he stood, taking his letters
+from the hall-porter.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;How d'ye do, again? I sha'n't detain you a minute. I have
+had a long talk with your father about business,&rdquo; said
+Longcluse, seizing the topic most likely to secure a few minutes,
+and speaking very low. &ldquo;You can bring me into a room here,
+and I'll tell you all that is necessary in two minutes.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Certainly,&rdquo; said Richard, yielding to his curiosity. &ldquo;I have
+only two or three minutes. I dine here with a friend, who is at
+this moment ordering dinner; so, you see, I am rather hurried.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>He opened a door, and looking in said&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Yes, we shall be quite to ourselves here.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p><a class="pagenum" name="Page_144" title="144"> </a>Longcluse shut the door. There was no one to overhear
+them.</p>
+
+<p>Richard Arden sat down on a sofa, and Mr. Longcluse threw
+himself into a chair.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;And what did he say?&rdquo; asked Richard.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;They want to raise his interest on the Yorkshire estate; and
+he says you won't help him; but that of course is your affair,
+and I declined, point-blank, to intervene in it. And before I go
+further, it strikes me, as it did to-day at Mortlake, that your
+manner to me has undergone a slight change.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Has it? I did not mean it, I assure you,&rdquo; said Richard Arden,
+with a little laugh.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Oh! yes, Arden, it <em>has</em>, and you must know it, and&mdash;pardon
+me&mdash;you must <em>intend</em> it also; and now I want to know what I
+have done, or how I have hurt you, or who has been telling lies
+of me?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Nothing of all these, that I know of,&rdquo; said Richard, with a
+cold little laugh.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Well, of course, if you prefer it, you may decline an explanation.
+I must however, remind you, because it concerns my
+happiness, and possibly other interests dearer to me than my
+life, too nearly to be trifled with, that you heard all I said respecting
+your sister with the friendliest approbation and encouragement.
+You knew as much and as little about me then as you
+do now. I am not conscious of having said or done anything
+to warrant the slightest change in your feelings or opinion; and
+in your manner there <em>is</em> a change, and a very decided change,
+and I tell you frankly I can't understand it.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Thus directly challenged, Richard Arden looked at him hard
+for a moment. He was balancing in his mind whether he should
+evade or accept the crisis. He preferred the latter.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Well, I can only say I did not intend to convey anything
+by my manner; but, as you know, when there is anything in
+one's mind it is not always easy to prevent its affecting, as you
+say, one's manner. I am not sorry you have asked me, because
+I spoke without reflection the other day. No one should answer,
+I really think, for any one else, in ever so small a matter, in this
+world.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;But you didn't&mdash;you spoke only for yourself. You simply
+promised me your friendship, your kind offices&mdash;you said, in fact,
+all I could have hoped for.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Yes, perhaps&mdash;yes, I may, I suppose I did. But don't you
+see, dear Longcluse, things may come to mind, on thinking
+over.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;<em>What</em> things?&rdquo; demanded Longcluse quickly, with a sudden
+energy that called a flush to his temples; and fire gleamed for
+a moment from his deep-set, gloomy eyes.</p>
+
+<p><a class="pagenum" name="Page_145" title="145"> </a>&ldquo;What things? Why, young ladies are not always the most
+intelligible problems on earth. I think you ought to know that;
+and really I do think, in such matters, it is far better that they
+should be left to themselves as much as possible; and I think,
+besides, that there are some difficulties that did not strike us. I
+mean, that I now see that there really are great difficulties&mdash;insuperable
+difficulties.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Can you define them?&rdquo; said Longcluse coldly.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I don't want to vex you, Longcluse, and I don't want to
+quarrel.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;That's extremely kind of you.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I don't know whether you are serious, but it is quite true.
+I don't wish any unpleasantness between us. I don't think I
+need say more than that; having thought it over, I don't see
+how it could ever be.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Will you give me your reasons?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I really don't see that I can add anything in particular to
+what I have said.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I think, Mr. Arden, considering all that has passed between
+us on this subject, that you are <em>bound</em> to let me know your
+reasons for so marked a change of opinion.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I can't agree with you, Mr. Longcluse. I don't see in the
+least why I need tell you my particular reasons for the opinion
+I have expressed. My sister can act for herself, and I certainly
+shall not account to you for my reasons or opinions in the
+matter.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Longcluse's pale face grew whiter, and his brows knit, as
+he fixed a momentary stare on the young man; but he mastered
+his anger, and said in a cold tone&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;We disagree totally upon that point, and I rather think the
+time will come when you <em>must</em> explain.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I have no more to say upon the subject, Sir, except this,&rdquo;
+said Arden, very tartly, &ldquo;that it is certain your hopes can never
+lead to anything, and that I object to your continuing your visits
+at Mortlake.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Why, the house does not belong to you&mdash;it belongs to Sir
+Reginald Arden, who objects to your visits and receives mine.
+Your ideas seem a little confused,&rdquo; and he laughed gently and
+coldly.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Very much the reverse, Sir. I object to my sister being
+exposed to the least chance of annoyance from your visits. I
+protest against it, and you will be so good as to understand that
+I distinctly forbid them.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;The young lady's father, I presume, will hardly ask your
+advice in the matter, and <em>I</em> certainly shall not ask your leave.
+I shall call when I please, so long as I am received at Mortlake,
+and shall direct my own conduct, without troubling you
+<a class="pagenum" name="Page_146" title="146"> </a>
+for counsel in my affairs.&rdquo; Mr. Longcluse laughed again
+icily.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;And so shall I, mine,&rdquo; said Arden sharply.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You have no right to treat anyone so,&rdquo; said Longcluse
+angrily&mdash;&ldquo;as if one had broken his honour, or committed a
+crime.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;A crime!&rdquo; repeated Richard Arden. &ldquo;Oh! <em>That</em>, indeed,
+would pretty well end all relations.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Yes, as, perhaps, you shall find,&rdquo; answered Longcluse, with
+sudden and oracular ferocity.</p>
+
+<p>Each gentleman had gone a little farther than he had at first
+intended. Richard Arden had a proud and fierce temper when
+it was roused. He was near saying what would have amounted
+to insult. It was a chance opening of the door that prevented
+it. Both gentlemen had stood up.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Please, Sir, have you done with the room, Sir?&rdquo; asked the
+man.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; said Longcluse, and laughed again as he turned on
+his heel.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Because three gentlemen want the room, if it's not engaged,
+Sir. And Lord Wynderbroke is waiting for you, please, Mr.
+Arden.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>So with a little toss of his head, which he held unusually
+high, and a flushed and &ldquo;glooming&rdquo; countenance, Richard
+Arden marched a little swaggeringly forth, to his dinner <i lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">tête-à-tête</i>
+with Lord Wynderbroke.</p>
+
+<div class="image-center chapter-end">
+<img src="images/ep27.png" width="282" height="67" alt=""/>
+</div>
+
+<div class="image-center chapter-beginning"><a class="pagenum" name="Page_147" title="147"> </a>
+<img src="images/ch28.png" width="444" height="86" alt=""/>
+</div>
+
+<h2 class="no-break">CHAPTER XXVIII.<br/>
+<small>STORIES ABOUT MR. LONGCLUSE.</small></h2>
+
+<div><img class="drop-cap" src="images/drop_t.png" width="72" height="72" alt=""/></div>
+
+<p class="drop-cap"><span class="upper-case">The</span> irritation of this unpleasant interview soon subsided,
+but Mr. Longcluse's anxiety rather increased.</p>
+
+<p>Next day early in the afternoon he drove to Lady
+May's and she received him just as usual. He
+learned from her, without appearing to seek the information,
+that Alice Arden was still at Mortlake. His visit was one of
+but two or three minutes. He jumped into a hansom and drove
+out to Mortlake. He knocked. Man of the world as he was,
+his heart beat faster.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Is Miss Arden at home?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;No, Sir.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Not at home?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Miss Arden is gone out, Sir.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Oh! perhaps in the garden?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;No, Sir; she has gone out, and won't be back for some
+time.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>The man spoke with the promptitude and decision of a
+servant instructed to deny his mistress to the visitor. He had
+not a card; he would call again another day.</p>
+
+<p>He heard the piano faintly, and, he thought, Alice's voice
+<ins title="lso">also</ins>; and certainly he saw Vivian Darnley in the drawing-room
+<ins title="indow">window</ins>, as his cab turned away from the door. With a swelling
+heart he drove into town. The portcullis, then, had fallen;
+access was denied him; and he should see her no more!</p>
+
+<p>Good Heaven! what had he done? He walked distractedly,
+for a while, up and down his study. Should he employ Lady
+May's intervention, and tell her the whole story? Good-natured
+Lady May! Perhaps she would undertake his cause, and plead
+for his re-admission. But was even that so certain? How
+could he tell what view she might take of the matter? And
+<a class="pagenum" name="Page_148" title="148"> </a>
+were she to intercede for him ever so vehemently, how could he
+tell that she had any chance of prevailing?</p>
+
+<p>No; on the whole it was better to be his own advocate. He
+would sit down then and there, and write to the offended or
+alarmed lady, and lay his piteous case before her in his own
+words and rely on her compassion, without an intervenient.</p>
+
+<p>How many letters he began, how many he even finished, and
+rejected, I need not tire you by telling. Some were composed
+in the first, others in the third person. Not one satisfied him.
+Here was the man of a million and more, who would dash off
+a note to his stock-broker, to buy or sell a hundred thousand
+pounds' worth of stock&mdash;who would draft a resolution of the
+bank of which he was the chairman, directing an operation
+which would make men open their eyes, without the tremor of a
+nerve or the hesitation of a moment&mdash;unmanned, helpless, distracted
+in the endeavour to write a note to a young and inexperienced
+girl!</p>
+
+<p>O beautiful sex! what a triumph is here! O Love! what
+fools will you not make of us poor masculine wiseacres! The
+letter he dispatched was in these terms. I daresay he had torn
+better ones to pieces:&mdash;</p>
+
+<blockquote>
+<p>&ldquo;<span class="small-caps">Dear Miss Arden</span>,&mdash;I had hoped that my profound contrition
+might have atoned for a momentary indiscretion&mdash;the declaration,
+though in terms the most respectful, of feelings which I had not self-command
+sufficient to suppress, and which had for nearly a year
+remained concealed in my own breast. I am sure, Miss Arden, that
+you are incapable of a gratuitous cruelty. Have I not sworn that one
+word to recall the remembrance of that, to me, all but fatal madness
+shall never escape my lips, in your presence? May I not entreat that
+you will forget it, that you will forbear to pass upon me the agonising
+sentence of exclusion? You shall never again have to complain of my
+uttering one word that the merest acquaintance, who is permitted the
+happiness of conversing with you, might not employ. You shall never
+regret your forbearance. I shall never cease to bless you for it; and
+whatever decision you arrive at, it shall be respected by me as sacred
+law. I shall never cease to reverence and bless the hand that spares
+or&mdash;afflicts me. May I be permitted this one melancholy hope, may I
+be allowed to interpret your omitting to answer this miserable letter as
+a concession of its prayer? Unless forbidden, I will endeavour to construe
+your silence as oblivion.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I have the honour to remain, dear Miss Arden, with deep compunction
+and respect, but not altogether without hope in your mercy,</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Yours the most unhappy and distracted man in England,</p>
+
+<p class="right small-caps">&ldquo;Walter Longcluse.&rdquo;</p>
+</blockquote>
+
+<p>Mr. Longcluse sealed this letter in its envelope, and addressed
+it. He would have liked to send it that moment, by his servant,
+<a class="pagenum" name="Page_149" title="149"> </a>
+but an odd shyness prevented. He did not wish his servants to
+conjure and put their heads together over it; he could not
+endure the idea; so with his own hand he dropped it in the
+post. Somewhat in the style of the old novel was this composition
+of Mr. Longcluse's&mdash;a little theatrical, and, one would have
+fancied, even affected; yet never was man more desperately
+sincere.</p>
+
+<p>Night came, and brought no reply. Was no news good news,
+or would the morning bring, perhaps from Richard Arden, a
+withering answer? Morning came, and no answer: what was
+he to conjecture?</p>
+
+<p>That day, in Grosvenor Square, he passed Richard Arden,
+who looked steadily and sternly a little to his right, and <em>cut</em>
+him.</p>
+
+<p>It was a marked and decided cut. His ears tingled as if he
+had received a slap in the face. So things had assumed a very
+decided attitude indeed! Longcluse felt very oddly enraged,
+at first; then anxious. It was insulting that Richard Arden
+should have taken the initiative in dissolving relations. But
+had he not been himself studiously impertinent to Arden, in
+that brief colloquy of yesterday? He ought to have been prepared
+for this. Without explanation, and the shaking of hands,
+it was impossible that relations of amity should have been
+resumed between them. But Longcluse had been entirely
+absorbed by a threatened alienation that affected him much
+more nearly. There was a thesis for conjecture in the situation,
+which made him still more anxious. A very little time
+would probably clear all up.</p>
+
+<p>He was walking homeward, saying to himself as he went,
+&ldquo;No, I shall find no answer; I should be a fool to fancy anything
+else;&rdquo; and yet walking all the more quickly, as he
+approached his house, in the hope of the very letter which he
+affected, to himself, to have quite rejected as an impossibility.
+Some letters had come, but none from Mortlake. His letter to
+Alice was still unanswered. He was now in the agony of suspense
+and distraction.</p>
+
+<p>The same evening Richard Arden was talking about him,
+as he leaned with his elbow on the mantelpiece at Mortlake.
+He and Alice were alone in the drawing-room, awaiting the
+arrival of the little dinner-party. This, as you know, was to
+include Lord Wynderbroke, before whose advances, in Richard
+Arden's vision, Mr. Longcluse had waned, and even become
+an embarrassment and a nuisance.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;It is easier to cut him than to explain,&rdquo; thought Richard
+Arden. &ldquo;It bores one so inexpressibly, giving reasons for
+what one does, and I'm so glad he has saved me the trouble
+by his vulgar impertinence.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p><a class="pagenum" name="Page_150" title="150"> </a>They had talked for some time, Alice chiefly a listener.
+How was she affected toward Mr. Longcluse? He was
+agreeable; he flattered her; he was passionately in love with
+her. All but this latter condition she liked very well; but
+this was embarrassing, and quite impracticable. Who knows
+what that tiny spark we term a fancy, a whim, a <em>penchant</em>
+might have grown to, had it not been blown away by this
+untimely gust? But, for my part, I don't think it ever would
+have grown to a matter of the heart. There was something
+in the way. A fancy is one thing, and passion quite another.
+Pique is a common state of mind, and comes and goes, and
+comes again, in many a courtship. But a liking that has
+once entered the heart cannot be torn out in a hasty moment,
+and takes a long time, and many a struggle, to kill.</p>
+
+<p>She was a little sorry, just then, to lose him so inevitably.
+Perhaps his letter, to which he had trusted to move her, had
+rendered the return of old relations impossible. In this letter
+she felt herself the owner of a secret&mdash;a secret which she
+could not keep without a sort of understanding growing up
+between them&mdash;which therefore she had no idea of keeping.</p>
+
+<p>She was resolved to tell it. The letter she had locked, in
+marked isolation, as if no property of hers, but simply a
+document that was in her keeping, in the pretty ormolu
+casket that stood on the drawing-room chimney-piece. She
+had intended showing it, and telling the story of the scene
+in the garden, to Richard. But he was speaking with a
+mysterious asperity of Mr. Longcluse, which made her hesitate.
+A very little thing, it seemed to her, might suffice to make a
+very violent quarrel out of a coldness. Instinctively, therefore,
+she refrained, and listened to Richard while, with his arm
+touching the casket on the chimney-piece, he descanted on the
+writer of the unknown letter.</p>
+
+<p>She experienced an odd feeling of insecurity as, in the course
+of his talk, his fingers began to trifle with the pretty fingers that
+stood out in relief upon the casket; for she knew that the
+ordeal of the pistol, discountenanced in England, was still in
+force on the Continent, and Mr. Longcluse's ideas were all Continental;
+and how near were those fingers to the letter which
+might suffice to explode the dangerous element that had already
+accumulated!</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;He has talked of us to his low companions; he chooses to
+associate with usurers and worse people; and he has been
+speaking of us in the most insolent terms.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Really!&rdquo; said Alice. Her large eyes looked larger as they
+fixed on him.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Yes, and I'll tell you how I heard it. You must know, dear
+Alice, that I happened to want a little money; and when one
+<a class="pagenum" name="Page_151" title="151"> </a>
+does, the usual course is to borrow it. So I paid a visit to my
+harpy&mdash;and a harpy in need is a harpy indeed. Being hard up,
+he fleeced me; and the gentleman, I suppose, thinking he might
+be familiar, told me he was on confidential terms with Mr.
+Longcluse and wished me a good deal of joy. &lsquo;Of what?&rsquo; I
+ventured to ask, for he had just hit me rather hard. &lsquo;Of your
+chance,&rsquo; or, as he called it <em>chanshe</em>, he said, with a delightfully
+arch leer. I thought he meant I had backed the right horse for
+the Derby, but it turned out he meant our chance of inducing
+Mr. Longcluse to make up his mind to marry you. I was very
+near knocking him down; but a man who has one's bill for
+three hundred pounds must be respected. So I merely ventured
+to ask on whose authority he congratulated me, when it
+appeared it was on Mr. Longcluse's own, who, it seems, had said a
+great deal more, equally intolerable. In plain, coarse terms,
+he says that, being poor, we have conspired with you to secure
+him, Mr. Longcluse, for your husband. As to the fact of his
+having actually conveyed that, and to more people than one,
+there is and can be no doubt whatever. I can imagine, considering
+all things, nothing more vulgar, audacious, and
+cowardly.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>A blush of anger glowed in Alice's face. Richard Arden
+liked the proud fire that gleamed from her dark grey eyes. It
+satisfied him that his words were not lost.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I lighted on a man who knew more about him than I had
+learned before,&rdquo; resumed Richard Arden. &ldquo;He was suspected
+at Berlin of having been engaged in a conspiracy to pigeon
+Dacre and Wilmot, who were travelling. He did not appear,
+but he is said to have supplied the money, and had a lion's
+share of the spoil. There is no good in repeating these things
+generally, you know, because they are so hard to prove; and a
+fellow like that is dangerous. They say he is very litigious.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Upon my word, if your information is at all to be relied
+on, it is plain we <em>have</em> made a great mistake. It is a disappointing
+world, but I could not have fancied him doing anything
+so low; and I must say for him that he was gentlemanlike
+and quiet, and very unlike the person he appears to be. I
+think I never heard of anything so outrageous! Vivian Darnley
+told me that he was a great duellist, and thought to be a very
+quarrelsome, dangerous companion abroad. But he had only
+heard this, and what you tell me is so much worse, so mean, so
+utterly intolerable!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Oh! There's worse than that,&rdquo; said Richard, with a faint
+sinister smile.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;What?&rdquo; said she, returning it with an almost frightened
+gaze.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;There was a very beautiful girl at the opera in Vienna; her
+<a class="pagenum" name="Page_152" title="152"> </a>
+name was Piccardi, a daughter of a good old Roman family.
+You can't imagine how admired she was! And she was
+thought to be on the point of marrying Count Baddenoff;
+Mr. Longcluse, it seems, chose to be in love with her; he
+was not then anything like so rich as he became afterwards&mdash;and
+this poor girl was killed.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Good heavens! Richard&mdash;what can you mean?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I mean that she was assassinated, and that from that day
+Mr. Longcluse was never received in society in Vienna, and had
+to leave it.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You ought to tell May Penrose,&rdquo; said she, after a silence of
+dismay.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Not for the world,&rdquo; said Richard; &ldquo;she talks enough for
+six&mdash;and where's the good? She'll only take up the cudgels for
+him, and we shall be in the centre of a pretty row.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Well, if you think it best<span style="white-space: nowrap;">&mdash;&mdash;</span>&rdquo; she began.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Certainly,&rdquo; said he. And a silence followed.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Here is a carriage at the door,&rdquo; said Richard Arden. &ldquo;Let
+us dismiss Longcluse, and look a little more like ourselves.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>That evening there came letters as usual to Mr. Longcluse,
+and among others a note from Lady <ins title="Mary">May</ins> Penrose, reminding
+him of her little garden-party at Richmond next day.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;By Jove!&rdquo; he exclaimed, starting up and reading the cards
+on his chimney, &ldquo;I thought it was the day after. It was very
+good-natured, poor old thing, her reminding me. I shall see
+Alice Arden there. Not one line does she vouchsafe. But is
+not she right? I think the more highly of her for not writing.
+I don't think she ought to write. Oh, Heaven grant she may
+meet me as usual? Does she mean it? If she did not, would
+she not have got her brother to write, or have written herself a
+cold line, to end our acquaintance?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>So he tried to comfort himself, and to keep alive his dying
+hope by these artificial stimulants.</p>
+
+<div class="image-center chapter-end">
+<img src="images/ep28.png" width="282" height="67" alt=""/>
+</div>
+
+<div class="image-center chapter-beginning"><a class="pagenum" name="Page_153" title="153"> </a>
+<img src="images/ch04.png" width="464" height="79" alt=""/>
+</div>
+
+<h2 class="no-break">CHAPTER XXIX.<br/>
+<small>THE GARDEN PARTY.</small></h2>
+
+<div><img class="drop-cap" src="images/drop_n.png" width="72" height="72" alt=""/></div>
+
+<p class="drop-cap"><span class="upper-case">Next</span> morning Mr. Longcluse rose with a sense of something
+before him.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;So I shall see her to-day! If she's the girl I've
+thought her, she will meet me as usual. That frantic
+scene, in which I risked all on the turn of a die, will be forgotten.
+Hasty words, or precipitate letters, are passed over
+every day; the man who commits such follies, under a
+transitory insanity, is allowed the privilege of recalling them.
+There were no witnesses present to make forgiveness difficult.
+It all lies with her own good sense, and a heart proud but
+gentle. Let but those mad words be sponged out, and I am
+happy. Alice, if you forgive me, I forgive your brother, and
+take his name from where it is, and write it in my heart. Oh,
+beautiful Alice! will you belie your looks? Oh, clear bright
+mind! will you be clouded and perverted? Oh, gentle heart!
+can you be merciless?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Longcluse made his simple morning toilet very carefully.
+A very plain man, extremely ugly some pronounce him; yet his
+figure is good, his get-up unexceptionable, and altogether he is
+a most gentlemanlike man to look upon, and in his movements
+and attitudes, quite unstudied, there is an undefinable grace.
+His accent is a little foreign&mdash;the slightest thing in the world,
+and Lady May Penrose declares it is so very pretty. Then he
+is so agreeable, when he pleases; and he is so very rich!</p>
+
+<p>Some people wonder why he does not withdraw from all
+speculations, retire upon his enormous wealth, and with his
+elegant tastes, and the art of being magnificent without glare,
+even gorgeous without vulgarity&mdash;for has he not shown this
+refined talent in the service of others, who have taken him into
+council?&mdash;he could eclipse all the world in splendid elegance,
+<a class="pagenum" name="Page_154" title="154"> </a>
+and make his way, <i lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">force d'argent</i>, to the pinnacle of half the
+world's ambition. Were those stories true that Richard Arden
+told his sister on the night before?</p>
+
+<p>I don't think that Richard Arden stuck at trifles, where he
+had an object to gain, and I don't believe a word of his story of
+Mr. Longcluse's insulting talk. It was not his way to boast and
+vapour; and he had a secret contempt for many of the Jewish
+and other agents whom he chose to employ. But undoubtedly
+Mr. Longcluse had the reputation among his discounting
+admirers of being a dangerous man to quarrel with; and also it
+was true that he had fought three or four savage duels in the
+course of his Continental life. There were other stories, unauthenticated,
+unpleasant. <ins title="There">These</ins> were whispered with sneers
+by Mr. Longcluse's enemies. But there's a divinity doth hedge
+a King Cr&oelig;sus, and his character bore a charmed life, among
+the missiles that would have laid that of many a punier man in
+the dust.</p>
+
+<p>With an agitated heart, Mr. Longcluse approached the pretty
+little place known as Raleigh Court, to which he had been
+invited. Through the quaint, old-fashioned gate-way, under the
+embowering branches of tall trees, he drove up a short, broad
+avenue, clumped at each side with old timber, to the open hall-door
+of the pretty Elizabethan house. Carriages of all sorts
+were discernible under the branches, assembled at the further
+side to the right of the hall-door, over the wide steps of which
+was spread a scarlet cloth. Croquet parties were already visible
+on the shorn grass, under boughs that spread high in the air,
+and cast a pleasant shadow on the sward. Groups were strolling
+among the flower-beds&mdash;some walking in, some emerging
+from the open door&mdash;and the scene presented the usual variety
+of dress, and somewhat listless to-ing and fro-ing.</p>
+
+<p>Did anyone, of all the guests of Lady May, mask so profound
+an agitation, under the conventional smile, as that which beat
+at Walter Longcluse's heart? Two or three people whom he
+knew, he met and talked to&mdash;some for a minute, others for a
+longer time&mdash;as he drew near the steps. His eye all the time
+was busy in the search after one pretty figure, the least glimpse
+of which he would have recognised with the thrill of a sure
+intuition, far or near. He would have liked to ask the friends
+he met whether the Ardens were here. But what would have
+been easy to him a week before, was now an effort for which he
+could not find courage.</p>
+
+<p>He entered the hall, quaint and lofty, rising to the entire
+height of the house, with two galleries, one above the other,
+surrounding it on three sides. Ancestors of the late Mr.
+Penrose, who had left all this and a great deal more to his
+sorrowing relict, stood on the panelled walls at full length&mdash;some
+<a class="pagenum" name="Page_155" title="155"> </a>
+in ruffs and trunk-hose, others in perukes and cut-velvet,
+one with a bâton in his hand, and three with falcon on fist&mdash;all
+stately and gentlemanlike, according to their several periods;
+with corresponding ladies, some stiff and pallid, who figured in
+the days of the virgin queen, and others in the graceful
+<i lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">déshabille</i> of Sir Peter Lely. This quaint oak hall was now
+resonant with the buzz and clack of modern gossip, prose, and
+flirtation, and a great deal crowded, notwithstanding its commodious
+proportions. Lady May was still receiving her company
+near the doorway of the first drawing-room, and her
+kindly voice was audible from within as the visitor approached.
+Mr. Longcluse was very graciously received.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I want you so particularly, to introduce you to Lady Hummington.
+She is such a charming person. She is so
+thoroughly up in German literature. She's a great deal too
+learned for me, but you and she will understand one another so
+perfectly, and you will be quite charmed with her. Mr.
+Addlings, did you happen to see Lady Hummington, or have
+you any idea where she's gone?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I shall go and look for her, with pleasure. Is not she the
+tall lady with grey hair? Shall I tell her you want to say a
+word to her?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You're very kind, but I'll not mind, thank you very much.
+It is so provoking, Mr. Longcluse! you would have been
+perfectly charmed with her.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I shall be more fortunate, by-and-by, perhaps,&rdquo; said Mr.
+Longcluse. &ldquo;Are any of our friends from Mortlake here?&rdquo; he
+added, looking a little fixedly in her eyes, for he was thinking
+whether Alice had betrayed his secret, and was trying to read
+an answer there.</p>
+
+<p>Lady May answered quite promptly&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Oh, yes, Alice is here, and her brother. He went out that
+way with some friends,&rdquo; she said, indicating with a little nod a
+door which, from a second hall, opened on a terrace. &ldquo;I asked
+him to show them the three fountains. You must see them
+also; they are in the Dutch garden; they were put up in the
+reign of George the First.&mdash;How d'ye do, Mrs. Frumply? How
+d'ye do, Miss Frumply?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;What a charming house!&rdquo; exclaims Mrs. Frumply, &ldquo;and
+what a day! We were saying, Arabella and I, as we drove out,
+that you must really have an influence with the clerk of the
+weather, ha, ha, ha! didn't we, Arabella? So charming!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Lady May laughed affably, and said&mdash;&ldquo;Won't you and your
+daughter go in and take some tea? Mr. (she was going to call
+on Longcluse, but he had glided away)&mdash;Oh, Mr. Darnley!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>And the introduction was made, and Vivian Darnley, with
+Mrs. Frumply on his arm, attended by her daughter Arabella,
+<a class="pagenum" name="Page_156" title="156"> </a>
+did as he was commanded and got tea for that simpering lady,
+and fruit and Naples biscuits, and plum-cake, and was rewarded
+with the original joke about the clerk of the weather.</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Longcluse, in the meantime, had passed the door
+indicated by Lady May, and stood upon the short terrace that
+overlooked the pretty flower-garden cut out in grotesque
+patterns, so that looking down upon its masses of crimson,
+blue, and yellow, as he leaned on the balustrade, it showed
+beneath his eye like a wide deep-piled carpet, on the green
+ground of which were walking groups of people, the brilliant
+hues of the ladies' dresses rivalling the splendour of the
+verbenas, and making altogether a very gay picture.</p>
+
+<p>The usual paucity of male attendance made Mr. Longcluse's
+task of observation easy. He was looking for Richard Arden's
+well-known figure among the groups, thinking that probably
+Alice was not far off. But he was not there, nor was Alice;
+and Walter Longcluse, gloomy and lonely in this gay crowd,
+descended the steps at the end of this terrace, and sauntered
+round again to the front of the house, now and then passing
+some one he knew, with an exchange of a smile or a bow, and
+then lost again in the Vanity Fair of strange faces and voices.</p>
+
+<p>Now he is at the hall door&mdash;he mounts the steps. Suddenly,
+as he stands upon the level platform at top, he finds himself
+within four feet of Richard Arden. He looks on him as he
+might on the carved pilaster, at the side of the hall door; no
+one could have guessed, by his inflexible but unaffected glance,
+that he and Mr. Arden had ever been acquainted. The
+younger man showed something in his countenance, a sudden
+hauteur, a little elevation of the chin, a certain sternness, more
+melodramatic, though less effective, than the simple blank of
+Mr. Longcluse's glance.</p>
+
+<p>That gentleman looked about coolly. He was in search of
+Miss Arden, but he did not see her. He entered the hall
+again, and Richard Arden a little awkwardly resumed his
+conversation, which had suddenly subsided into silence on
+Longcluse's appearance.</p>
+
+<p>By this time Lady May was more at ease, having received
+all her company that were reasonably punctual, and in the hall
+Longcluse now encountered her.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Have you seen Mr. Arden?&rdquo; she inquired of him.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Yes, he's at the door, at the steps.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Would you mind telling him kindly that I want to say a
+word to him?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Certainly, most happy,&rdquo; said Longcluse, without any
+distinct plan as to how he was to execute her awkward
+commission.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Thank you very much. But, oh! dear, here is Lady
+<a class="pagenum" name="Page_157" title="157"> </a>
+Hummington, and she wishes so much to know you; I'll send
+some one else. I must introduce you, come with me&mdash;Lady
+Hummington, I want to introduce my friend, Mr. Longcluse.&rdquo;
+So Mr. Longcluse was presented to Lady Hummington, who
+was very lean, and a &ldquo;blue,&rdquo; and most fatiguingly well up in
+archæology, and all new books on dry and difficult subjects.
+So that Mr. Longcluse felt that he was, in <i>Joe Willett's</i>
+phrase, &ldquo;tackled&rdquo; by a giant, and was driven to hideous
+exertions of attention and memory to hold his own. When
+Lady Hummington, to whom it was plain kind Lady May, with
+an unconscious cruelty, had been describing Mr. Longcluse's
+accomplishments and acquirements, had taken some tea and
+other refection, and when Mr. Longcluse's kindness &ldquo;had her
+wants supplied,&rdquo; and she, like Scott's &ldquo;old man&rdquo; in the &ldquo;Lay
+of the Last Minstrel,&rdquo; &ldquo;was gratified,&rdquo; she proposed visiting
+the music-room, where she had heard a clever organist play,
+on a harmonium, three distinct tunes at the same time, which
+being composed on certain principles, that she explained with
+much animation and precision, harmonised very prettily.</p>
+
+<p>So this clever woman directed, and Mr. Longcluse led, the
+way to the music-room.</p>
+
+<div class="image-center chapter-end">
+<img src="images/ep04.png" width="232" height="128" alt=""/>
+</div>
+
+<div class="image-center chapter-beginning"><a class="pagenum" name="Page_158" title="158"> </a>
+<img src="images/ch23.png" width="443" height="83" alt=""/>
+</div>
+
+<h2 class="no-break">CHAPTER XXX.<br/>
+<small>HE SEES HER.</small></h2>
+
+<div><img class="drop-cap" src="images/drop_m.png" width="72" height="73" alt=""/></div>
+
+<p class="drop-cap drop-wide"><span class="upper-case">Mr. Longcluse's</span> attention was beginning to wander
+a little, and his eyes were now busy in search of
+some one whom he had not found; and knowing
+that the duration of people's stay at a garden-party
+is always uncertain, and that some of those gaily-plumed birds
+who make the flutter, and chirping, and brilliancy of the scene,
+hardly alight before they take wing again, he began to fear that
+Alice Arden had gone.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Just like my luck!&rdquo; he thought bitterly; &ldquo;and if she is
+gone, when shall I have an opportunity of seeing her again?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Lady Hummington's well-informed conversation had been,
+unheeded, accompanying the ruminations and distractions of
+this &ldquo;passionate pilgrim;&rdquo; and as they approached the door
+of the music-room, the little crush there brought the learned
+lady's lips so near to his ear, that with a little start he heard
+the words&mdash;&ldquo;All strictly arithmetical, you know, and adjusted
+by the relative frequency of vibrations. That theory, I am
+sure, you approve, Mr. Longcluse.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>To which the distracted lover made answer, &ldquo;I quite agree
+with you, Lady Hummington.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>The music-room at Raleigh Court is an apartment of no
+great size, and therefore when, with Lady Hummington on his
+arm, he entered, it was at no great distance that he saw Miss
+Arden standing near the window, and talking with an elderly
+gentleman, whose appearance he did not know, but who
+seemed to be extremely interested in her conversation. She
+saw him, he had not a doubt, for she turned a little quickly,
+and looked ever so little more directly out at the window, and
+a very slight tinge flushed her cheek. It was quite plain, he
+thought, and a dreadful pang stole through his breast, that she
+<a class="pagenum" name="Page_159" title="159"> </a>
+did not choose to see him&mdash;quite plain that she did see him&mdash;and
+he thought, from a subtle scrutiny of her beautiful features,
+quite plain also that it gave her pain to meet without acknowledging
+him.</p>
+
+<p>Lady Hummington was conversing with volubility; but the
+air felt icy, and there was a strange trembling at his heart, and
+this, in many respects, hard man of the world, felt that the
+tears were on the point of welling from his eyes. The struggle
+was but for a few moments, and he seemed quite himself again.
+Lady Hummington wished to go to the end of the room where
+the piano was, and the harmonium on which the organist had
+performed his feat of the three tunes. That artist was taking
+his departure, having a musical assignation of some kind to
+keep. But to oblige Lady Hummington, who had heard of
+Thalberg's doing something of the kind, he sat down and
+played an elaborate piece of music on the piano with his
+thumbs only. This charming effort over, and applauded, the
+performer took his departure. And Lady Hummington said&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I am told, Mr. Longcluse, that you are a very good
+musician.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;A very indifferent performer, Lady Hummington.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Lady May Penrose tells a very different tale.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Lady May Penrose is too kind to be critical,&rdquo; said Longcluse;
+and as he maintained this dialogue, his eye was observing
+every movement of Alice Arden. She seemed, however, to
+have quite made up her mind to stand her ground. There was
+a strange interest, to him, even in being in the same room with
+her. Perhaps Miss Arden saw that Mr. Longcluse's movements
+were dependent upon those of the lady whom he accompanied,
+and might have thought that, the <ins title="muscian">musician</ins> having
+departed, their stay in that room would not be very long.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I should be so glad to hear you sing, Mr. Longcluse,&rdquo;
+pursued Lady Hummington. &ldquo;You have been in the East, I
+think; have you any of the Hindostanee songs? There are
+some, I have read, that embody the theories of the Brahmin
+philosophy.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Long-winded songs, I fancy,&rdquo; said Mr. Longcluse, laughing;
+&ldquo;it is a very voluminous philosophy, but the truth is, I've
+got a little cold, and I should not like to make a bad impression
+so early.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;But surely there are some simple little things, without very
+much compass, that would not distress you. How pretty those
+old English songs are that they are collecting and publishing
+now! I mean songs of Shakespeare's time&mdash;Ben Jonson's,
+Beaumont and Fletcher's, and Massinger's, you know. Some
+of them are so extremely pretty!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Oh! yes, I'll sing you one of those with pleasure,&rdquo; said he
+<a class="pagenum" name="Page_160" title="160"> </a>
+with a strange alacrity, quite forgetting his cold, sitting down
+at the instrument, and striking two or three fierce chords.</p>
+
+<p>I am sure that most of my readers are acquainted with that
+pretty old English song, of the time of James the First, entitled,
+&ldquo;Once I Loved a Maiden Fair.&rdquo; That was the song he chose.</p>
+
+<p>Never, perhaps, did he sing so well before, with a fluctuation
+of pathos and scorn, tenderness and hatred, expressed with real
+dramatic fire, and with more power of voice than at moments
+of less excitement he possessed. He sang it with real passion,
+and produced, exactly where he wished, a strange but unavowed
+sensation. He omitted one verse, and the song as he delivered
+it was thus:&mdash;</p>
+
+<div class="poetry">
+<div class="stanza">
+<div class="line">&ldquo;Once I loved a maiden fair,<br/></div>
+<div class="line indent3">But she did deceive me:<br/></div>
+<div class="line indent1">She with Venus could compare,<br/></div>
+<div class="line indent3">In my mind, believe me.<br/></div>
+<div class="line indent1">She was young, and among<br/></div>
+<div class="line indent3">All our maids the sweetest:<br/></div>
+<div class="line indent1">Now I say, Ah, well-a-day!<br/></div>
+<div class="line indent3">Brightest hopes are fleetest.<br/></div>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<div class="line indent1">Maidens wavering and untrue<br/></div>
+<div class="line indent3">Many a heart have broken;<br/></div>
+<div class="line indent1">Sweetest lips the world e'er knew<br/></div>
+<div class="line indent3">Falsest words have spoken.<br/></div>
+<div class="line indent1">Fare thee well, faithless girl,<br/></div>
+<div class="line indent3">I'll not sorrow for thee:<br/></div>
+<div class="line indent1">Once I held thee dear as pearl,<br/></div>
+<div class="line indent3">Now I do abhor thee.&rdquo;<br/></div>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<p>When he had finished the song, he said coldly, but very
+distinctly, as he rose&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I like that song, there is a melancholy psychology in it. It
+is a song worthy of Shakespeare himself.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Lady Hummington urged him with an encore, but he was
+proof against her entreaties. And so, after a little, she took
+Mr. Longcluse's arm; and Alice felt relieved when the room
+was rid of them.</p>
+
+<h2 class="chapter-beginning"><a class="pagenum" name="Page_161" title="161"> </a>CHAPTER XXXI.<br/>
+<small>ABOUT THE GROUNDS.</small></h2>
+
+<div><img class="drop-cap" src="images/drop_l.png" width="70" height="72" alt=""/></div>
+
+<p class="drop-cap"><span class="upper-case">Lady Hummington</span>, well pleased at having found
+in Mr. Longcluse what she termed a kindred mind,
+was warned by the hour that she must depart. She
+took her leave of Mr. Longcluse with regret, and
+made him promise to come to luncheon with her on the
+Thursday following. Mr. Longcluse called her carriage for
+her, and put in, besides herself, her maiden sister and two
+daughters, who all exhibited the family leanness, with noses
+more or less red and aquiline, and small black eyes, set rather
+close together.</p>
+
+<p>As he ascended the steps he was accosted by a damsel
+in distress.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Mr. Longcluse, I'm so glad to see you! You must do a
+very good-natured thing,&rdquo; said handsome Miss Maubray,
+smiling on him. &ldquo;I came here with old Sir Arthur and Lady
+Tramway, and I've lost them; and I've been bored to death by
+a Mr. Bagshot, and I've sent him to look for my pocket-handkerchief
+in the tea-room; and I want you, as you hope for
+mercy, to show it now, and rescue me from my troubles.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I'm too much honoured. I'm only too happy, Miss Maubray.
+I shall put Mr. Bagshot to death, if you wish it, and Sir
+Arthur and Lady Tramway shall appear the moment you command.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Longcluse was talking his nonsense with the high spirits
+which sometimes attend a painful excitement.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I told them I should get to that tree if I were lost in the
+crowd, and that they would be sure to find me under it after six
+o'clock. Do take me there; I am so afraid of Mr. Bagshot's
+returning!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p><a class="pagenum" name="Page_162" title="162"> </a>So over the short grass that handsome girl walked, with <ins title="Mr">Mr.</ins>
+Longcluse at her side.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I'll sit at this side, thank you; I don't want to be seen by
+Mr. Bagshot.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>So she sat down, placing herself at the further side of the
+great trunk of the old chestnut-tree. Mr. Longcluse stood
+nearly opposite, but so placed as to command a view of the
+hall-door steps. He was still watching the groups that emerged,
+with as much interest as if his life depended on the order of their
+to-ing and fro-ing. But, in spite of this, very soon Miss Maubray's
+talk began to interest him.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Whom did Alice Arden come with?&rdquo; asked Miss Maubray.
+&ldquo;I should like to know; because, if I should lose my people, I
+must find some one to take me home.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;With her brother, I fancy.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Oh! yes, to be sure&mdash;I saw him here. I forgot. But Alice
+is very independent, just now, of his protection,&rdquo; and she
+laughed.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;How do you mean?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Oh! Lord Wynderbroke, of course, takes care of her while
+she's here. I saw them walking about together, so happy! I
+suppose it is all settled.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;About Lord Wynderbroke?&rdquo; suggested Longcluse, with a
+gentle carelessness, as if he did not care a farthing&mdash;as if a
+dreadful pain had not at that moment pierced his heart.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Yes, Lord Wynderbroke. Why, haven't you heard of
+that?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Yes, I believe&mdash;I think so. I am sure I have heard something
+of it; but one hears so many things, one forgets, and I
+don't know him. What kind of man is he?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;He's hard to describe; he's not disagreeable, and he's not
+dull; he has a great deal to say for himself about pictures, and
+the East, and the Crimea, and the opera, and all the people at
+all the courts in Europe, and he ought to be amusing; but I
+think he is the driest person I ever talked to. And he is really
+good-natured; but I think him much more teasing than the
+most ill-natured man alive, he's so insufferably punctual and
+precise.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You know him very well, then?&rdquo; said Longcluse, with an
+effort to contribute his share to the talk.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Pretty well,&rdquo; said the young lady, with just a slight tinge
+flushing her haughty cheek. &ldquo;But no one, who has been a
+week in the same house with him, could fail to see all that.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Miss Maubray herself, I am told, had hopes of Lord Wynderbroke
+about a year before, and was not amiably disposed towards
+him now, and looked on the triumph of Alice a little
+sourly; although something like the beginning of a real love
+<a class="pagenum" name="Page_163" title="163"> </a>
+had since stolen into her heart&mdash;not, perhaps, destined to be
+much more happy.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Lord Wynderbroke&mdash;I don't know him. Is that gentleman
+he whom I saw talking to Miss Arden in the music-room, I
+wonder? He's not actually thin, and he is not at all stout; he's
+a little above the middle height, and he stoops just a little. He
+appears past fifty, and his hair looks like an old-fashioned brown
+wig, brushed up into a sort of cone over his forehead. He
+seems a little formal, and very polite and smiling, with a flower
+in his button-hole; a blue coat; and he has a pair of those little
+gold Paris glasses, and was looking out through the window
+with them.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Had he a high nose?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Yes, rather a thin, high nose, and his face is very brown.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Well, if he was all that, and had a brown face and a high
+nose, and was pretty near fifty-three, and very near Alice Arden,
+he was positively Lord Wynderbroke.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;And has this been going on for some time, or is it a sudden
+thing?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Both, I believe. It has been going on a long time, I believe,
+in old Sir Reginald's head; but it has come about, after all,
+rather suddenly; and my guardian says&mdash;Mr. David Arden, you
+know&mdash;that he has written a proposal in a letter to Sir Reginald,
+and you see how happy the young lady looks. So I think we
+may assume that the course of true love, for once, runs smooth&mdash;don't
+you?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;And I suppose there is no objection anywhere?&rdquo; said
+Longcluse, smiling. &ldquo;It is a pity he is not a little younger,
+perhaps.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I don't hear any complaints; let us rather rejoice he is not
+ten or twenty years older. I am sure it would not prevent his
+happiness, but it would heighten the ridicule. Are you one of
+Lady May Penrose's party to the Derby to-morrow?&rdquo; inquired
+the young lady.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;No; I haven't been asked.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Lord Wynderbroke is going.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Oh! of course he is.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I don't think Mr. David Arden likes it; but, of course, it is
+no business of his if other people are pleased. I wonder you
+did not hear all this from Richard Arden, you and he are so
+intimate.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>So said the young lady, looking very innocent. But I think
+she suspected more than she said.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;No, I did not hear it,&rdquo; he said carelessly; &ldquo;or, if I did, I
+forgot it. But do you blame the young lady?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Blame her! not at all. Besides, I am not so sure that she
+knows.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p><a class="pagenum" name="Page_164" title="164"> </a>&ldquo;How can you think so?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Because I think she likes quite another person.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Really! And who is he?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Can't you guess?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Upon my honour, I can't.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>There was something so earnest, and even vehement, in this
+sudden asseveration, that Miss Maubray looked for a moment
+in his face; and seeing her curious expression, he said more
+quietly, &ldquo;I assure you I don't think I ever heard; I'm rather
+curious to know.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I mean Mr. Vivian Darnley.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Oh! Well, I've suspected that a long time. I told Richard
+Arden, one day&mdash;I forget how it came about&mdash;but he said no.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Well, I say yes,&rdquo; laughed the young lady, &ldquo;and we shall
+see who's right.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Oh! Recollect I'm only giving you his opinion. I rather
+lean to yours, but he said there was positively nothing in it, and
+that Mr. Darnley is too poor to marry.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;If Alice Arden resembles me,&rdquo; said the young lady, &ldquo;she
+thinks there are just two things to marry for&mdash;either love or
+ambition.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You place love first, I'm glad to hear,&rdquo; said Mr. Longcluse,
+with a smile.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;So I do, because it is most likely to prevail with a pig-headed
+girl; but what I mean is this: that social pre-eminence&mdash;I mean
+rank, and not trumpery rank; but such as, being accompanied
+with wealth and precedence, is also attended with power&mdash;is
+worth an immense sacrifice of all other objects; my reason tells
+me, worth the sacrifice of love. But that is a sacrifice which
+impatient, impetuous people can't always so easily make&mdash;which
+I daresay I could not make if I were tried; but I don't think I
+shall ever be fool enough to become so insane, for the state of a
+person in love is a state of simple idiotism. It is pitiable, I
+allow, but also contemptible; but, judging by what I see, it appears
+to me a more irresistible delusion than ambition. But I
+don't understand Alice well. I think, if I knew a little more of
+her brother&mdash;certain qualities so run in families&mdash;I should be
+able to make a better guess. What do you think of him?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;He's very agreeable, isn't he? and, for the rest, really, until
+men are tried as events only can try them, it is neither wise nor
+safe to pronounce.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Is he affectionate?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;His sister seems to worship him,&rdquo; he answered; &ldquo;but young
+ladies are so angelic, that where they like they resent nothing,
+and respect selfishness itself as a manly virtue.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;But you know him intimately; surely you must know something
+of him.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p><a class="pagenum" name="Page_165" title="165"> </a>Under different circumstances, this audacious young lady's
+cross-examination would have amused Mr. Longcluse; but in
+his present relations, and spirits, it was otherwise.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I should but mislead you if I were to answer more distinctly.
+I answer for no man, hardly for myself. Besides, I question
+your theory. I don't think, except by accident, that a brother's
+character throws any light upon a sister's; and I hope&mdash;I think,
+I mean&mdash;that Miss Arden has qualities illimitably superior to
+those of her brother. Are these your friends, Miss Maubray?&rdquo;
+he continued.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;So they are,&rdquo; she answered. &ldquo;I'm so much obliged to you,
+Mr. Longcluse! I think they are leaving.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Longcluse, having delivered her into the hands of her
+chaperon, took his leave, and walked into the broad alleys
+among the trees, and in solitude under their shade, sat himself
+down by a pond, on which two swans were sailing majestically.
+Looking down upon the water with a pallid frown, he struck the
+bank beneath him viciously with his heel, peeling off little bits
+of the sward, which dropped into the water.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;It is all plain enough now. Richard Arden has been playing
+me false. It ought not to surprise me, perhaps. The girl,
+I still believe, has neither act nor part in the conspiracy. She
+has been duped by her brother. I have thrown myself upon
+her mercy; I will now appeal to her <em>justice</em>. As for him&mdash;what
+vermin mankind are! He must return to his allegiance; he
+will. After all, he may not like to lose me. He will act in the
+way that most interests his selfishness. Come, come! it is no
+impracticable problem. I'm not cruel? Not I! No, I'm not
+cruel; but I am utterly just. I would not hang a mouse up by
+the tail to die, as they do in France, head downwards, of hunger,
+for eating my cheese; but should the vermin nibble at my heart,
+in that case, what says justice? Alice, beautiful Alice, you shall
+have every chance before I tear you from my heart&mdash;oh, for
+ever! Ambition! That coarse girl, Miss Maubray, can't understand
+you. Ambition, in her sense, you have none; there is
+nothing venal in your nature. Vivian Darnley, is there anything
+in that either? I think nothing. I observed them closely,
+that night, at Mortlake. No, there was nothing. My conversation
+and music interested her, and when I was by, he was
+nothing.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;They are going to the Derby to-morrow. I think Lady May
+has treated me rather oddly, considering that she had all but
+borrowed my drag. She might have put me off civilly; but I
+don't blame her. She is good-natured, and if she has any idea
+that I and the Ardens are not quite on pleasant terms, it quite
+excuses it. Her asking me here, and her little note to remind,
+were meant to show that she did not take up the quarrel against
+<a class="pagenum" name="Page_166" title="166"> </a>
+me. Never mind; I shall know all about it, time enough.
+They are going to the Derby to-morrow. Very well, I shall go
+also. It will all be right yet. When did I fail? When did I
+renounce an object? By Heaven, one way or other, I'll accomplish
+this!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Tall Mr. Longcluse rose, and looked round him, and in deep
+thought, marched with a resolute step towards the house.</p>
+
+<div class="image-center chapter-end">
+<img src="images/ep01.png" width="216" height="112" alt=""/>
+</div>
+
+<div class="image-center chapter-beginning"><a class="pagenum" name="Page_167" title="167"> </a>
+<img src="images/ch06.png" width="442" height="85" alt=""/>
+</div>
+
+<h2 class="no-break">CHAPTER XXXII.<br/>
+<small>UNDER THE LIME-TREES.</small></h2>
+
+<div><img class="drop-cap" src="images/drop_a.png" width="72" height="73" alt=""/></div>
+
+<p class="drop-cap"><span class="upper-case">At</span> this garden-party, marvellous as it may appear, Lord
+Wynderbroke has an aunt. How old she is I know
+not, nor yet with what conscience her respectable relations
+can permit her to haunt such places, and run
+a risk of being suffocated in doorways, or knocked down the
+steps by an enamoured couple hurrying off to more romantic
+quarters, or of having her maundering old head knocked with a
+croquet mallet, as she totters drearily among the hoops.</p>
+
+<p>This old lady is worth conciliating, for she has plate and
+jewels, and three thousand a-year to leave; and Lord Wynderbroke
+is a prudent man. He can bear a great deal of money,
+and has no objection to jewels, and thinks that the plate of his
+bachelor and old-maid kindred should gravitate to the centre
+and head of the house. Lord Wynderbroke was indulgent, and
+did not object to her living a little longer, for this aunt conduced
+to his air of juvenility more than the flower in his button-hole.
+However, she was occasionally troublesome, and on this occasion
+made an unwise mixture of fruit and other things; and a
+servant glided into the music-room, and with a proper inclination
+of his person, in a very soft tone said,&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;My lord, Lady Witherspoons is in her carriage at the door,
+my lord, and says her ladyship is indisposed, and begs, my lord,
+that your lordship will be so good as to hacompany her 'ome in
+her carriage, my lord.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Oh! tell her ladyship I am so <em>very</em> sorry, and will be with
+her in a moment.&rdquo; And he turned with a very serious countenance
+to Alice. &ldquo;How extremely unfortunate! When I saw
+those miserable cherries, I knew how it would be; and now I
+am torn away from this charming place; and I'm sure I hope
+<a class="pagenum" name="Page_168" title="168"> </a>
+she may be better soon, it <em>is</em> so (disgusting, he thought, but he
+said) melancholy! With whom shall I leave you, Miss Arden?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Thanks, I came with my brother, and here is my cousin,
+Mr. Darnley, who can tell me where he is.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;With a croquet party, near the little bridge. I'll be your
+guide, if you'll allow me,&rdquo; said Vivian Darnley eagerly.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Pray, Lord Wynderbroke, don't let me delay you longer. I
+shall find my brother quite easily now. I so hope Lady Witherspoons
+may soon be better!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Oh, yes, she always <em>is</em> better soon; but in the meantime
+one is carried away, you see, and everything upset; and all
+because, poor woman, she won't exercise the smallest restraint.
+And she has, of course, a right to command me, being my aunt,
+you know, and&mdash;and&mdash;the whole thing is ineffably provoking.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>And thus he took his reluctant departure, not without a brief
+but grave scrutiny of Mr. Vivian Darnley. When he was gone,
+Vivian Darnley proffered his arm, and that little hand was
+placed on it, the touch of which made his heart beat faster.
+Though people were beginning to go, there was still a crush
+about the steps. This little resistance and mimic difficulty were
+pleasant to him for her sake. Down the steps they went
+together, and now he had her all to himself; and silently for a
+while he led her over the closely-shorn grass, and into the
+green walk between the lime-trees, that leads down to the little
+bridge.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Alice,&rdquo; at last he said&mdash;&ldquo;Miss Arden, what have I done
+that you are so changed?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Changed! I don't think I am changed. What is there to
+change me?&rdquo; she said carelessly, but in a low tone, as she
+looked along towards the flowers.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;It won't do, Alice, repeating my question, for that is all you
+have done. I like you too well to be put off with mere words.
+You are changed, and without a cause&mdash;no, I could not say that&mdash;not
+without a cause. Circumstances are altered; you are in
+the great world now, and admired; you have wealth and titles
+at your feet&mdash;Mr. Longcluse with his millions, Lord Wynderbroke
+with his coronet.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;And who told you that these gentlemen were at my feet?&rdquo;
+she exclaimed, with a flash from her fine eyes, that reminded
+him of moments of pretty childish anger, long ago. &ldquo;If I am
+changed&mdash;and perhaps I am&mdash;such speeches as that would quite
+account for it. You accuse me of caprice&mdash;has any one ever
+accused you of impertinence?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;It is quite true, I deserve your rebuke. I have been
+speaking as freely as if we were back again at Arden Court, or
+Ryndelmere, and ten years of our lives were as a mist that rolls
+away.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p><a class="pagenum" name="Page_169" title="169"> </a>&ldquo;That's a quotation from a song of Tennyson's.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I don't know what it is from. Being melancholy myself, I
+say the words because they are melancholy.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Surely you can find some friend to console you in your
+affliction.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;It is not easy to find a friend at any time, much less when
+things go wrong with us.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;It is very hard if there is really no one to comfort you.
+Certainly <em>I</em> sha'n't try anything so hopeless as comforting a
+person who is resolved to be miserable. &lsquo;There's such a charm
+in melancholy, I would not if I could, be gay.&rsquo; There's a
+quotation for you, as you like verses&mdash;particularly what I call
+moping verses.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Come, Alice! this is not like you; you are not so unkind as
+your words would seem; you are not cruel, Alice&mdash;you are cruel
+to no one else, only to me, your old friend.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I have said nothing cruel,&rdquo; said Miss Alice, looking on the
+grass before her; &ldquo;cruelty is too sublime a phrase. I don't
+think I have ever experienced cruelty in my life; and I don't
+think it likely that you have; I certainly have never been cruel
+to any one. I'm a very good-natured person, as my birds and
+squirrel would testify if they could.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>She laughed.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I suppose people call that cruel which makes them suffer
+very much; it may be but a light look, or a cold word, but still
+it may be more than years of suffering to another. But I don't
+think, Alice, you ought to be so with me. I think you might
+remember old times a little more kindly.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I remember them very kindly&mdash;as kindly as you do. We
+were always very good friends, and always, I daresay, shall be.
+<em>I</em> sha'n't quarrel. But I don't like heroics, I think they are so
+unmeaning. There may be people who like them very well
+and<span style="white-space: nowrap;">&mdash;&mdash;</span> There is Richard, I think, and he has thrown away
+his mallet. If his game is over, he will come now, and Lady
+May doesn't want the people to stay late; she is going into
+town, and I stay with her to-night. We are going to the Derby
+to-morrow.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I am going also&mdash;it was so kind of her!&mdash;she asked me to
+be of her party,&rdquo; said Vivian Darnley.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Richard is coming also; I have never been to the Derby,
+and I daresay we shall be a very pleasant party; I know I like
+it of all things. Here comes Richard&mdash;he sees me. Was my
+uncle David here?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;No.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I hardly thought he was, but I saw Grace Maubray,
+and I fancied he might have come with her,&rdquo; she said carelessly.</p>
+
+<p><a class="pagenum" name="Page_170" title="170"> </a>&ldquo;Yes, she was here; she came with Lady <ins title="Tramways">Tramway</ins>. They
+went away about half-an-hour ago.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>So Richard joined her, and they walked to the house together,
+Vivian Darnley accompanying them.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I think I saw you a little spooney to-day, Vivian, didn't I?&rdquo;
+said Richard Arden, laughing. He remembered what Longcluse
+once said to him, about Vivian's <i lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">tendre</i> for his sister, and did
+not choose that Alice should suspect it. &ldquo;Grace Maubray is a
+very pretty girl.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;She may be that, though it doesn't strike me,&rdquo; began
+Darnley.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Oh! come, I'm too old for that sort of disclaimer; and I
+don't see why you should be so modest about it. She is clever
+and pretty.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Yes, she is very pretty,&rdquo; said Alice.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I suppose she is, but you're quite mistaken if you really
+fancy I admire Miss Maubray. I <em>don't</em>, I give you my <em>honour</em>,
+I don't,&rdquo; said Vivian vehemently.</p>
+
+<p>Richard Arden laughed again, but prudently urged the point
+no more, intending to tell the story that evening as he and Alice
+drove together into town, in the way that best answered his
+purpose.</p>
+
+<div class="image-center chapter-end">
+<img src="images/ep01.png" width="216" height="112" alt=""/>
+</div>
+
+<div class="image-center chapter-beginning"><a class="pagenum" name="Page_171" title="171"> </a>
+<img src="images/ch15.png" width="456" height="110" alt=""/>
+</div>
+
+<h2 class="no-break">CHAPTER XXXIII.<br/>
+<small>THE DERBY.</small></h2>
+
+<div><img class="drop-cap" src="images/drop_t.png" width="72" height="72" alt=""/></div>
+
+<p class="drop-cap"><span class="upper-case">The</span> morning of the Derby day dawned auspiciously.
+The weather-cocks, the sky, and every other prognostic
+portended a fine cloudless day, and many an
+eye peeped early from bed-room window to read
+these signs, rejoicing.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Ascot would have been more in <em>our</em> way,&rdquo; said Lady May,
+glancing at Alice, when the time arrived for taking their places
+in the carriage. &ldquo;But the time answered, and we shall see a
+great many people we know there. So you must not think I
+have led you into a very fast expedition.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Richard Arden took the reins. The footmen were behind, in
+charge of hampers from Fortnum and Mason's, and inside,
+opposite to Alice, sat Lord Wynderbroke; and Lady May's
+<i lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">vis-à-vis</i> was Vivian Darnley. Soon they had got into the
+double stream of carriages of all sorts. There are closed
+carriages with pairs or fours, gigs, hansom cabs fitted with gauze
+curtains, dog-carts, open carriages with hampers lashed to the
+foot-boards, dandy drags, bright and polished, with crests; vans,
+cabs, and indescribable contrivances. There are horses worth
+a hundred and fifty guineas a-piece, and there are others that
+look as if the knacker should have them. There are all sorts of
+raws, and sand-cracks, and broken knees. There are kickers
+and roarers, and bolters and jibbers, such a crush and medley
+in that densely packed double line, that jogs and crushes along
+you can hardly tell how.</p>
+
+<p>Sometimes one line passes the other, and then sustains a
+momentary check, while the other darts forward; and now and
+then a panel is smashed, with the usual altercation, and dust
+unspeakable eddying and floating everywhere in the sun; all
+sorts of chaff exchanged, mail-coach horns blowing, and
+<a class="pagenum" name="Page_172" title="172"> </a>
+general impudence and hilarity; gentlemen with veils on, and
+ladies with light hoods over their bonnets, and all sorts of gauzy
+defences against the dust. The utter novelty of all these sights
+and sounds highly amuses Alice, to whom they are absolutely
+strange.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I am so amused,&rdquo; she said, &ldquo;at the gravity you all seem to
+take these wonderful doings with. I could not have fancied
+anything like it. Isn't that Borrowdale?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;So it is,&rdquo; said Lady May. &ldquo;I thought he was in France.
+He doesn't see us, I think.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>He did see them, but it was just as he was cracking a personal
+joke with a busman, in which the latter had decidedly the best
+of it, and he did not care to recognise his lady acquaintances
+at disadvantage.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;What a fright that man is!&rdquo; said Lord Wynderbroke.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;But his team is the prettiest in England, except Longcluse's,&rdquo;
+said Darnley; &ldquo;and, by Jove, there's Longcluse's drag!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Those are very nice horses,&rdquo; said Lord Wynderbroke
+looking at Longcluse's team, as if he had not heard Darnley's
+observation. &ldquo;They are worth looking at, Miss Arden.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Longcluse was seated on the box, with a veil on, through
+which his white smile was indistinctly visible.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;And what a fright <em>he</em> is, also! He looks like a picture of
+Death I once saw, with a cloth half over his face; or the Veiled
+Prophet. By Jove, a curious thing that the two most hideous
+men in England should have between them the two prettiest
+teams on earth!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Lord Wynderbroke looks at Darnley with raised brows,
+vaguely. He has been talking more than his lordship perhaps
+thinks he has any business to talk, especially to Alice.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You will be more diverted still when we have got upon the
+course,&rdquo; interposes Lord Wynderbroke. &ldquo;The variety of strange
+people there&mdash;gipsies, you know, and all that&mdash;mountebanks,
+and thimble-riggers, and beggars, and musicians&mdash;you'll wonder
+how such hordes could be collected in all England, or where
+they come from.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;And although they make something of a day like this, how
+on earth they contrive to exist all the other days of the year,
+when people are sober, and minding their own business,&rdquo; added
+Darnley.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;To me the pleasantest thing about the drive is our finding
+ourselves in the open country. Look out of the window there&mdash;trees
+and farm-steads&mdash;it is so rural, and such an odd change!&rdquo;
+said Lady May.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;And the young corn, I'm glad to see, is looking very well,&rdquo;
+said Lord Wynderbroke, who claimed to be something of an
+agriculturist.</p>
+
+<p><a class="pagenum" name="Page_173" title="173"> </a>&ldquo;And the oddest thing about it is our being surrounded, in
+the midst of all this rural simplicity, with the population of
+London,&rdquo; threw in Vivian Darnley.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Remember, Miss Arden, our wager,&rdquo; said Lord Wynderbroke;
+&ldquo;you have backed May Queen.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;May! she should be a cousin of mine,&rdquo; said good Lady
+May, firing off her little pun, which was received very kindly by
+her audience.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Ha, ha! I did not think of that; she should certainly be
+the most popular name on the card,&rdquo; said Lord Wynderbroke.
+&ldquo;I hope I have not made a great mistake, Miss Arden, in
+betting against so&mdash;so auspicious a name.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I sha'n't let you off, though. I'm told I'm very likely to win&mdash;isn't
+it so?&rdquo; she asked Vivian.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Yes, the odds are in favour of May Queen now; you might
+make a capital hedge.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You don't know what a hedge is, I daresay, Miss Arden;
+ladies don't always quite understand our turf language,&rdquo; said
+Lord Wynderbroke, with a consideration which he hoped that
+very forward young man, on whom he fancied Miss Arden
+looked good-naturedly, felt as he ought. &ldquo;It is called a hedge,
+by betting men, when<span style="white-space: nowrap;">&mdash;&mdash;</span>&rdquo; and he expounded the meaning of
+the term.</p>
+
+<p>The road had now become more free, as they approached the
+course, and Dick Arden took advantage of the circumstance to
+pass the omnibuses, and other lumbering vehicles, which he
+soon left far behind. The grand stand now rose in view&mdash;and
+now they were on the course. The first race had not yet come
+off, and young Arden found a good place among the triple line
+of carriages. Off go the horses! Miss Arden is assisted to a
+cushion on the roof; Lord Wynderbroke and Vivian take places
+beside her. The sun is growing rather hot, and the parasol is
+up. Good-natured Lady May is a little too stout for climbing,
+but won't hear of anyone's staying to keep her company.
+Perhaps when Richard Arden, who is taking a walk by the
+ropes, and wants to see the horses which are showing, returns,
+she may have a little talk with him at the window. In the
+meantime, all the curious groups of figures, and a hundred
+more, which Lord Wynderbroke promised&mdash;the monotonous
+challenges of the fellows with games of all sorts, the whine of
+the beggar for a little penny, the guitarring, singing, barrel-organing,
+and the gipsy inviting Miss Arden to try her lucky
+sixpence&mdash;all make a curious and merry Babel about her.</p>
+
+<div class="image-center chapter-beginning"><a class="pagenum" name="Page_174" title="174"> </a>
+<img src="images/ch34.png" width="463" height="78" alt=""/>
+</div>
+
+<h2 class="no-break">CHAPTER XXXIV.<br/>
+<small>A SHARP COLLOQUY.</small></h2>
+
+<div><img class="drop-cap" src="images/drop_o.png" width="72" height="72" alt=""/></div>
+
+<p class="drop-cap"><span class="upper-case">On</span> foot, near the weighing stand, is a tall, powerful, and
+clumsy fellow, got up gaudily&mdash;a fellow with a lowering
+red face, in loud good-humour, very ill-looking.
+He is now grinning and chuckling with his hands in
+his pockets, and talking with a little Hebrew, young, sable-haired,
+with the sallow tint, great black eyes, and fleshy nose that
+characterise his race. A singularly sullen mouth aids the effect
+of his vivid eyes, in making this young Jew's face ominous.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Young Dick Harden's 'ere,&rdquo; said Mr. Levi.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Eh? is he?&rdquo; said the big man with the red face and
+pimples, the green cut-away coat, gilt buttons, purple neck-tie,
+yellow waistcoat, white cord tights, and top boots.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Walking down there,&rdquo; said Levi, pointing with his thumb
+over his shoulder. &ldquo;I shaw him shpeak to a fellow in chocolate
+and gold livery.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;And an eagle on the button, I know. That's Lady May
+Penrose's livery,&rdquo; said his companion. &ldquo;He came down with
+her, I lay you fifty. And he has a nice sister as ever you set eyes
+on&mdash;pretty gal, Mr. Levi&mdash;a reg'lar little angel,&rdquo; and he giggled
+after his wont. &ldquo;If there's a dragful of hangels anyvere, she's
+one of them. I saw her yesterday in one of Lady May Penrose's
+carriages in St. James' Street. Mr. Longcluse is engaged to
+get married to her; you may see them linked arm-in-arm, any
+day you please, walkin' hup and down Hoxford Street. And
+her brother, Richard Harden, is to marry Lady May Penrose.
+That will be a warm family yet, them Hardens, arter all.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;A family with a title, Mr. Ballard, be it never so humble,
+Sir, like 'ome shweet 'ome, hash nine livesh in it; they'll be
+down to the last pig, and not the thickness of an old tizzy
+between them and the glue-pot; and while you'd write your
+<a class="pagenum" name="Page_175" title="175"> </a>
+name across the back of a cheque, all's right again. The title
+doesh it. You never shaw a title in the workus yet, Mr.
+Ballard, and you'll wait awhile before you 'av a hoppertunity of
+shayin', &lsquo;My lord Dooke, I hope your grashe's water-gruel is
+salted to your noble tasht thish morning,&rsquo; or, &lsquo;My noble
+marquishe, I humbly hope you are pleashed with the fit of them
+pepper-and-salts;&rsquo; and, &lsquo;My lord earl, I'm glad to see by the
+register you took a right honourable twisht at the crank thish
+morning.&rsquo; No, Mishter Ballard, you nor me won't shee that,
+Shir.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>While these gentlemen enjoyed their agreeable banter, and
+settled the fortunes of Richard Arden and Mr. Longcluse, the
+latter person was walking down the course in the direction in
+which Mr. Levi had seen Arden go, in the hope of discovering
+Lady May's carriage. Longcluse was in an odd state of excitement.
+He had entered into the spirit of the carnival.
+Voices all around were shouting, &ldquo;Twenty to five on
+Dotheboys;&rdquo; or, &ldquo;A hundred to five against Parachute.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;In what?&rdquo; called Mr. Longcluse to the latter challenge.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;In assassins!&rdquo; cried a voice from the crowd.</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Longcluse hustled his way into the thick of it.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Who said that?&rdquo; he thundered.</p>
+
+<p>No one could say. No one else had heard it. Who cared?
+He recovered his coolness quickly, and made no further fuss
+about it. People were too busy with other things to bother
+themselves about his questions, or his temper. He hurried forward
+after young Arden, whom he saw at the turn of the course
+a little way on.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;The first race no one cares much about; compared with
+the great event of the day, it is as the farce before the
+pantomime, or the oyster before the feast.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>The bells had not yet rung out their warning, and Alice said
+to Vivian,&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;How beautifully that girl with the tambourine danced and
+sang! I do so hope she'll come again; and she is, I think, so
+perfectly lovely. She is so like the picture of La Esmeralda;
+didn't you think so?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Do you really wish to see her again?&rdquo; said Vivian. &ldquo;Then
+if she's to be found on earth you shall see her.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>He was smiling, but he spoke in the low tone that love is said
+to employ and understand, and his eyes looked softly on her.
+He was pleased that she enjoyed everything so. In a moment
+he had jumped to the ground, and with one smile back at the
+eager girl he disappeared.</p>
+
+<p>And now the bells were ringing, and the police clearing the
+course. And now the cry, &ldquo;They're off, they're off!&rdquo; came
+rolling down the crowd like a hedge-fire. Lord Wynderbroke
+<a class="pagenum" name="Page_176" title="176"> </a>
+offered Alice his race-glass, but ladies are not good at optical
+aids, and she prefers her eyes; and the Earl constitutes himself
+her sentinel, and will report all he sees, and stands on the roof
+beside her place, with the glasses to his eyes. And now the
+excitement grows. Beggar-boys, butcher-boys, stable-helps,
+jump up on carriage-wheels unnoticed, and cling to the roof
+with filthy fingers. And now they are in sight, and a wild
+clamour arises. &ldquo;Red's first!&rdquo; &ldquo;No, Blue!&rdquo; &ldquo;White leads!&rdquo;
+&ldquo;Pink's first!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>And here they are! White, crimson, pink, black, yellow&mdash;the
+silk jackets quivering like pennons in a storm&mdash;the jockeys
+tossing their arms madly about, the horses seeming actually to
+fly; swaying, reeling, whirring, the whole thing passes in a
+beautiful drift of a moment, and is gone!</p>
+
+<p>Lord Wynderbroke is standing on tip-toe, trying to catch a
+glimpse of the caps as they show at the opening nearer the
+winning-post. Vivian Darnley is away in search of La
+Esmeralda. Miss Arden has seen the first race of the day, the
+first she has ever seen, and is amazed and delighted. The
+intruders who had been clinging to the carriage now jump down,
+and join the crowd that crush on towards the winning-post, or
+break in on the course. But there rises at the point next her a
+figure she little expected to see so near that day. Mr. Longcluse
+has swung himself up, and stands upon the wheel. He is
+bare-headed, his hat is in the hand he clings by. In the other
+hand he holds up a small glove&mdash;a lady's glove. His face is
+very pale. He is not smiling; he looks with an expression of
+pain, on the contrary, and very great respect.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Miss Arden, will you forgive my venturing to restore this
+glove, which I happened to see you drop as the horses
+passed?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>She looked at him with something of surprise and fear, and
+drew back a little instead of taking the proffered glove.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I find I have been too presumptuous,&rdquo; he said gently. &ldquo;I
+place it there. I see, Miss Arden, I have been maligned.
+Some one has wronged me cruelly. I plead only for a fair
+chance&mdash;for God's sake, give me a chance. I don't say hear
+me now, only say you won't condemn me utterly unheard.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>He spoke vehemently, but so low that, amid the hubbub of
+other voices, no one but Miss Arden, on whom his eyes were
+fixed, could hear him.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I take my leave, Miss Arden, and may God bless you.
+But I rest in the hope that your noble nature will refuse to
+treat any creature as my enemies would have you treat me.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>His looks were so sad and even reverential, and his voice,
+though low, so full of agony, that no one could suppose the
+speaker had the least idea of forcing his presence upon the lady
+<a class="pagenum" name="Page_177" title="177"> </a>
+a moment longer than sufficed to ascertain that it was not
+welcome. He was about to step to the ground, when he saw
+Richard Arden striding rapidly up with a very angry countenance.
+Then and there seemed likely to occur what the
+newspapers term an ungentlemanlike fracas. Richard Arden
+caught him, and pulled him roughly to the ground. Mr.
+Longcluse staggered back a step or two, and recovered himself.
+His pale face glared wickedly, for a moment or two, on the
+flushed and haughty young man; his arm was a little raised,
+and his fist clenched. I daresay it was just the turn of a die,
+at that moment, whether he struck him or not.</p>
+
+<p>These two bosom friends, and sworn brothers, of a week or
+two ago, were confronted now with strange looks, and in
+threatening attitude. How frail a thing is the worldly man's
+friendship, hanging on flatteries and community of interest! A
+word or two of truth, and a conflict or even a divergence of
+interest, and where is the liking, the friendship, the intimacy?</p>
+
+<p>A sudden change marked the face of Mr. Longcluse. The
+vivid fires that gleamed for a moment from his eyes sunk in
+their dark sockets, the intense look changed to one of sullen
+gloom. He beckoned, and said coldly, &ldquo;Please follow me;&rdquo;
+and then turned and walked, at a leisurely pace, a little way
+inward from the course.</p>
+
+<p>Richard Arden, perhaps, felt that had he hesitated it would
+have reflected on his courage. He therefore disregarded the
+pride that would have scorned even a seeming compliance with
+that rather haughty summons, and he followed him with something
+of the odd dreamy feeling which men experience when
+they are stepping, consciously, into a risk of life. He thought
+that Mr. Longcluse was inviting the interview for the purpose
+of arranging the preliminaries of who were to act as their
+&ldquo;friends,&rdquo; and where each gentleman was to be heard of that
+evening. He followed, with oddly conflicting feelings, to a
+place in the rear of some tents. Here was a sort of booth.
+Two doors admitted to it&mdash;one to the longer room, where was
+whirling that roulette round which men who, like Richard
+Arden, could not deny themselves, even on the meanest scale,
+the excitement of chance gain and loss, were betting and
+bawling. Into the smaller room of plank, which was now
+empty, they stepped.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Now, Sir, you'll be so good as <ins title="to to">to</ins> observe that you have
+taken upon you a rather serious responsibility in laying your
+hand on me,&rdquo; said Longcluse, in a very low tone, coldly and
+gently. &ldquo;In France, such a profanation would be followed by
+an exchange of shots, and here, under other circumstances, I
+should exact the same chance of retaliation. I mean to deal
+differently&mdash;quite differently. I have fought too many duels, as
+<a class="pagenum" name="Page_178" title="178"> </a>
+you know, to be the least apprehensive of being misunderstood
+or my courage questioned. For your sister's sake, not yours, I
+take a peculiar course with you. I offer you an alternative; you
+may have reconciliation&mdash;here is my hand&rdquo; (he extended it)&mdash;&ldquo;or
+you may abide the other consequence, at which I sha'n't
+hint, in pretty near futurity. You don't accept my hand?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;No, Sir,&rdquo; said Arden haughtily&mdash;more than haughtily,
+insolently. &ldquo;I can have no desire to renew an acquaintance
+with you. I sha'n't do that. I'll fight you, if you like it. I'll
+go to Boulogne, or wherever you like, and we can have our shot,
+Sir, whenever you please.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;No, if you please&mdash;not so fast. You decline my friendship&mdash;that
+offer is over,&rdquo; said Longcluse, lowering his hand
+resolutely. &ldquo;I am not going to shoot you&mdash;I have not the
+least notion of that. I shall take, let me see, a different course
+with you, and I shall obtain on reflection your entire concurrence
+with the hopes I have no idea of relinquishing. You
+will probably understand me pretty clearly by-and-by.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Richard Arden was angry; he was puzzled; he wished to
+speak, but could not light quickly on a suitable answer. Longcluse
+stood for some seconds, smiling his pale sinister smile
+upon him, and then turned on his heel, and walked quietly out
+upon the grass, and disappeared in the crowd.</p>
+
+<p>Richard Arden was irresolute. He threw open the door, and
+entered the roulette-room&mdash;looked round on all the strange
+faces, that did not mind him, or seem to see that he was there&mdash;then,
+with a sudden change of mind, he retraced his steps
+more quickly, and followed Longcluse through the other door.
+But there he could not trace him. He had quite vanished.
+Perhaps, next morning, he was glad that he had missed him,
+and had been compelled to &ldquo;sleep upon it.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Now and then, with a sense of disagreeable uncertainty, recurred
+to his mind the mysterious intimation, or rather menace,
+with which he had taken his departure. It was not, however,
+his business to look up Longcluse. He had himself seemed to
+intimate that the balance of insult was the other way. If
+&ldquo;satisfaction,&rdquo; in the slang of the duellist, was to be looked for,
+the initiative devolved undoubtedly upon Longcluse.</p>
+
+<p>Alice was so placed on the carriage, that she did not see what
+passed immediately beside it, between Longcluse and her
+brother. Still, the appearance of this man, and his having
+accosted her, had agitated her a good deal, and for some hours
+the unpleasant effect of the little scene spoiled her enjoyment
+of this day of wonders.</p>
+
+<p>Very gaily, notwithstanding, the party returned&mdash;except, perhaps,
+one person who had reason to remember that day.</p>
+
+<div class="image-center chapter-beginning"><a class="pagenum" name="Page_179" title="179"> </a>
+<img src="images/ch24.png" width="466" height="100" alt=""/>
+</div>
+
+<h2 class="no-break">CHAPTER XXXV.<br/>
+<small>DINNER AT MORTLAKE.</small></h2>
+
+<div><img class="drop-cap" src="images/drop_l.png" width="70" height="72" alt=""/></div>
+
+<p class="drop-cap"><span class="upper-case">Lady May's</span> party from the Derby dined together late,
+that evening, at Mortlake. Lord Wynderbroke, of
+course, was included. He was very happy, and extremely
+agreeable. When Alice, and Lady May, who
+was to stay that night at Mortlake, and Miss Maubray, who had
+come with Uncle David, took their departure for the drawing-room,
+the four gentlemen who remained over their claret drew
+more together, and chatted at their ease.</p>
+
+<p>Lord Wynderbroke was in high spirits. He admired Alice
+more than ever. He admired everything. A faint rumour had
+got about that something was not very unlikely to be. It did
+not displease him. He had been looking at diamonds the day
+before; he was not vexed when that amusing wag, Pokely, who
+had surprised him in the act, asked him that day, on the Downs,
+some sly questions on the subject, with an arch glance at
+beautiful Miss Arden. Lord Wynderbroke pooh-pooh'd this
+impertinence very radiantly. And now this happy peer, pleased
+with himself, pleased with everybody, with the flush of a complacent
+elation on his thin cheeks, was simpering and chatting
+most agreeably, and commending everything to which his attention
+was drawn.</p>
+
+<p>In very marked contrast with this happy man was Richard
+Arden, who talked but little, was absent, utterly out of spirits,
+and smiled with a palpable effort when he did smile. His conversation
+with Lady May showed the same uncomfortable
+peculiarities. It was intermittent and bewildered. It saddened
+the good lady. Was he ill? or in some difficulty?</p>
+
+<p>Now that she had withdrawn, Richard Arden seemed less
+attentive to Lord Wynderbroke than to his uncle. In so far as
+a wight in his melancholy mood could do so, he seemed to have
+<a class="pagenum" name="Page_180" title="180"> </a>
+laid himself out to please his uncle in those small ways where,
+in such situations, an anxiety to please can show itself. Once
+his father's voice had roused him with the intimation, &ldquo;Richard,
+Lord Wynderbroke is speaking to you;&rdquo; and he saw a very
+urbane smile on his thin lips, and encountered a very formidable
+glare from his dark eyes. The only subject on which Richard
+Arden at all brightened up was the defeat of the favourite.
+Lord Wynderbroke remarked,&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;It seems to have caused a good deal of observation. I saw
+Hounsley and Crackham, and they shake their heads at it a
+good deal, and<span style="white-space: nowrap;">&mdash;&mdash;</span>&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>He paused, thinking that Richard Arden was going to interpose
+something, but nothing followed, and he continued,&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;And Lord Shillingsworth, he's very well up in all these
+things, and he seems to think it is a very suspicious affair; and
+old Sir Thomas Fetlock, who should have known better, has
+been hit very hard, and says he'll have it before the Jockey
+Club.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I don't mind Sir Thomas, he blusters and makes a noise
+about everything,&rdquo; said Richard Arden; &ldquo;but it was quite
+palpable, when the horse showed, he wasn't fit to run. I don't
+suppose Sir Thomas will do it, but it certainly will be done. I
+know a dozen men who will sell their horses, if it isn't done. I
+don't see how any man can take payment of the odds on Dotheboys&mdash;I
+don't, I assure you&mdash;till the affair is cleared up: <em>gentlemen</em>,
+of course, I mean; the other people would like the money
+all the better if it came to them by a swindle. But it certainly
+can't rest where it is.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>No one disputing this, and none of the other gentlemen being
+authorities of any value upon turf matters, the subject dropped,
+and others came on, and Richard Arden was silent again. Lord
+Wynderbroke, who was to pass two or three days at Mortlake,
+and who had made up his mind that he was to leave that interesting
+place a <i lang="it" xml:lang="it">promesso sposo</i>, was restless, and longed to
+escape to the drawing-room. So the sitting over the wine was
+not very long.</p>
+
+<p>Richard Arden made an effort, in the drawing-room, to retrieve
+his character with Lady May and Miss Maubray, who
+had been rather puzzled by his hang-dog looks and flagging
+conversation.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;There are times, Lady May,&rdquo; said he, placing himself on
+the sofa beside her, &ldquo;when one loses all faith in the future&mdash;when
+everything goes wrong, and happiness becomes incredible.
+Then one's wisest course seems to be, to take off one's hat to the
+good people in this planet, and go off to another.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Only that I know you so well,&rdquo; said Lady May, &ldquo;I should
+tell Reginald&mdash;I mean your father&mdash;what you say; and I think
+<a class="pagenum" name="Page_181" title="181"> </a>
+your uncle, there, is a magistrate for the county of Middlesex,
+and could commit you, couldn't he? for any such foolish speech.
+Did you observe to-day&mdash;you saw him, of course&mdash;how miserably
+ill poor Pindledykes is looking? I don't think, really, he'll
+be alive in six months.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Don't throw away your compassion, dear Lady May. Pindledykes
+has always looked dying as long as I can remember, and
+on his last legs; but those last legs carry some fellows a long
+way, and I'm very sure he'll outlive me.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;And what pleasure can a person so very ill as he looks take
+in going to places like that?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;The pleasure of winning other people's money,&rdquo; laughed
+Arden sourly. &ldquo;Pindledykes knows very well what he's about.
+He turns his time to very good account, and wastes very little
+of it, I assure you, in pitying other people's misfortunes.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I'm glad to see that you and Richard are on pleasanter
+terms,&rdquo; said David Arden to his brother, as he sipped his tea
+beside him.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Egad! we are <em>not</em>, though. I hate him worse than ever.
+Would you oblige me by putting a bit of wood on the fire? I
+told you how he has treated me. I wonder, David, how the
+devil you could suppose we were on pleasanter terms!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Sir Reginald was seated with his crutch-handled stick beside
+him, and an easy fur slipper on his gouty foot, which rested on
+a stool, and was a great deal better. He leaned back in a
+cushioned arm-chair, and his fierce prominent eyes glanced
+across the room, in the direction of his son, with a flash like a
+scimitar's.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;There's no good, you know, David, in exposing one's ulcers
+to strangers&mdash;there's no use in plaguing one's guests with family
+quarrels.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Upon my word, you disguised this one admirably, for I mistook
+you for two people on tolerably friendly terms.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I don't want to plague Wynderbroke about the puppy; there
+is no need to mention that he has made so much unhappiness.
+<em>You</em> won't, neither will I.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>David nodded.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Something has gone wrong with him,&rdquo; said David Arden,
+&ldquo;and I thought you might possibly know.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Not I.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I think he has lost money on the races to-day,&rdquo; said David.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I hope to Heaven he has! I'm glad of it. It will do me
+good; let him settle it out of his blackguard <i lang="la" xml:lang="la">post-obit</i>,&rdquo; snarled
+Sir Reginald, and ground his teeth.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;If he has been gambling, he has disappointed me. He can,
+however, disappoint me but once. I had better thoughts of
+him.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p><a class="pagenum" name="Page_182" title="182"> </a>So said David Arden, with displeasure in his frank and manly
+face.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Playing? Of course he plays, and of course he's been
+making a blundering book for the Derby. He likes the hazard-table
+and the turf, he likes play, and he likes making books;
+and what he likes he does. He always did. I'm rather pleased
+you have been trying to manage him. You'll find him a charming
+person, and you'll understand what I have had to combat
+with. He'll never do any good; he is so utterly graceless.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I see my father looking at me, and I know what he means,&rdquo;
+said Richard Arden, with a smile, to Lady May; &ldquo;I'm to go
+and talk to Miss Maubray. He wishes to please Uncle David,
+and Miss Maubray must be talked to; and I see that Uncle
+David envies me my little momentary happiness, and meditates
+taking that empty chair beside you. You'll see whether I am
+right. By Jove! here he comes; I sha'n't be turned away
+so<span style="white-space: nowrap;">&mdash;&mdash;</span>&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Oh, but, really, Miss Maubray has been quite alone,&rdquo; urged
+poor Lady May, very much pleased; &ldquo;and you <em>must</em>, to please
+<em>me</em>; I'm sure you will.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Instantly he arose.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I don't know whether that speech is most kind or <em>un</em>-kind;
+you banish me, but in language so flattering to my loyalty, that
+I don't know whether to be pleased or pained. Of course I
+obey.&rdquo; He said these parting words in a very low tone, and
+had hardly ended them, when David Arden took the vacant
+chair beside the good lady, and began to talk with her.</p>
+
+<p>Once or twice his eyes wandered to Richard Arden, who was
+by this time talking with returning animation to Grace Maubray,
+and the look was not cheerful. The young lady, however, was
+soon interested, and her good-humour was clever and exhilarating.
+I think that she a little admired this handsome and rather
+clever young man, and who can tell what such a fancy may
+grow to?</p>
+
+<p>That night, as Richard Arden bid him good-bye, his uncle
+said, coldly enough,&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;By-the-bye, Richard, would you mind looking in upon me to-morrow,
+at five in the afternoon? I shall have a word to say to
+you.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>So the appointment was made, and Richard entered his cab,
+and drove into town dismally.</p>
+
+<div class="image-center chapter-beginning"><a class="pagenum" name="Page_183" title="183"> </a>
+<img src="images/ch15.png" width="456" height="110" alt=""/>
+</div>
+
+<h2 class="no-break">CHAPTER XXXVI.<br/>
+<small>MR. LONGCLUSE SEES A LADY'S NOTE.</small></h2>
+
+<div><img class="drop-cap" src="images/drop_n.png" width="72" height="72" alt=""/></div>
+
+<p class="drop-cap"><span class="upper-case">Next</span> day Mr. Longcluse paid an early visit at Uncle
+David's house, and saw Miss Maubray in the drawing-room.
+The transition from that young lady's former,
+to her new life, was not less dazzling than that of the
+heroine of an Arabian tale, who is transported by friendly genii,
+while she sleeps, from a prison to the palace of a sultan. Uncle
+David did not care for finery; no man's tastes could be simpler
+and more camp-like. But these drawing-rooms were so splendid,
+so elegant and refined, and yet so gorgeous in effect, that you
+would have fancied that he had thought of nothing else all his
+life but china, marqueterie, buhl, Louis Quatorze clocks, mirrors,
+pale-green and gold cabriole chairs, bronzes, pictures, and all
+the textile splendours, the names of which I know not, that
+make floors and windows magnificent.</p>
+
+<p>The feminine nature, facile and self-adapting, had at once
+accommodated itself to the dominion over all this, and all that
+attended it. And Miss Maubray being a lady, a girl who had,
+in her troubled life, been much among high-bred people&mdash;her
+father a gentle, fashionable, broken-down man, and her
+mother a very elegant and charming woman&mdash;there was no
+contrast, in look, air, or conversation, to mark that all this was
+new to her: on the contrary, she became it extremely.</p>
+
+<p>The young lady was sitting at the piano when Longcluse came
+in, and to the expiring vibration of the chord at which she was
+interrupted she rose, with that light, floating ascent which is so
+pretty, and gave him her hand, and welcomed him with a very
+bright smile. She thought he was a likely person to be able to
+throw some light upon two rumours which interested her.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;How do you contrive to keep your rooms so deliciously
+cool? The blinds are down and the windows open, but that
+<a class="pagenum" name="Page_184" title="184"> </a>
+alone won't do, for I have just left a drawing-room that is very
+nearly insupportable; yours must be the work of some of those
+pretty sylphs that poets place in attendance upon their heroines.
+How fearfully hot yesterday was! You did not go to the
+Derby with Lady May's party, I believe.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>He watched her clever face, to discover whether she had
+heard of the scene between him and Richard Arden&mdash;&ldquo;I don't
+think she has.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;No,&rdquo; she said, &ldquo;my guardian, Mr. Arden, took me there
+instead. On second thoughts, I feared I should very likely be
+in the way. One is always <i lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">de trop</i> where there is so much love-making;
+and I am a very bad gooseberry.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;A very dangerous one, I should fancy. And who are all
+these lovers?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Oh, really, they are so many, it is not easy to reckon them
+up. Alice Arden, for instance, had <em>two</em> lovers&mdash;Lord Wynderbroke
+and Vivian Darnley.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;What, two lovers charged upon one lady? Is not that
+false heraldry? And does she really care for that young
+fellow, Darnley?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I'm told she really is deeply attached to him. But that
+does not prevent her accepting Lord Wynderbroke. He has
+spoken, and been accepted. Old Sir Reginald told my guardian
+his brother, last night, and <em>he</em> told me in the carriage, as we
+drove home. I wonder how soon it will be. I should rather
+like to be one of her bridesmaids. Perhaps she will ask
+me.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Longcluse felt giddy and stunned; but he said, quite
+gaily&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;If she wishes to be suitably attended, she certainly will.
+But young ladies generally prefer a foil to a rival, even when so
+very beautiful as she is.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;And there was Vivian Darnley at one side, I'm told, whispering
+all kinds of sweet things, and poor old Wynderbroke at the
+other, with his glasses to his eyes, reporting all he saw. Only
+think! What a goose the old creature must have looked!&rdquo;
+And the young lady laughed merrily. &ldquo;But can you tell me
+about the other affair?&rdquo; she asked.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;What is it?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Oh! you know, of course&mdash;Lady May and Richard Arden;
+is it true that it was all settled the day before yesterday, at that
+kettle-drum?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;There again my information is quite behind yours. I did
+not hear a word of it.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;But you must have seen how very much in love they both are.
+Poor young man! I really think it would have broken his heart
+if she had been cruel, particularly if it is true that he lost so
+<a class="pagenum" name="Page_185" title="185"> </a>
+much as they say at the Derby yesterday. I suppose he did.
+Do you know?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I'm sorry to say,&rdquo; said Mr. Longcluse, &ldquo;I'm afraid it's only
+too true. I don't know exactly how much it is, but I believe it
+is more than he can, at present, very well bear. A mad thing
+for him to do. I'm really sorry, although he has chosen to
+quarrel with me most unreasonably.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Oh? I wasn't aware. I fancied you would have heard all
+from him.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;No, not a word&mdash;no.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Lady May was talking to me at Raleigh Court, the day we
+were there&mdash;she can talk of no one else, poor old thing!&mdash;and
+she said something had happened to make him and his sister
+very angry. She would not say what. She only said, &lsquo;You
+know how very proud they are, and I really think,&rsquo; she said,
+&lsquo;they ought to have been very much pleased, for everything, I
+think, was most advantageous.&rsquo; And from this I conclude there
+must have been a proposal for Alice; I shall ask her when I see
+her.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Yes, I daresay they are proud. Richard Arden told me so.
+He said that his family were always considered proud. He was
+laughing, of course, but he meant it.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;He's proud of being proud, I daresay. I thought you
+would be likely to know whether all they say is true. It would
+be a great pity he should be ruined; but, you know, if all the
+rest is true, there are resources.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Longcluse laughed.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;He has always been very particular and a little tender in
+that quarter; very sweet upon Lady May, I thought,&rdquo; said he.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Oh, very much gone, poor thing!&rdquo; said Grace Maubray. &ldquo;I
+think my guardian will have heard all about it. He was very
+angry, once or twice, with Richard Arden about his losing so
+much money at play. I believe he has lost a great deal at
+different times.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;A great many people do lose money so. For the sake of
+excitement, they incur losses, and risk even their utter ruin.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;How foolish!&rdquo; exclaimed Miss Maubray. &ldquo;Have you
+heard anything more about that affair of Lady Mary Playfair
+and Captain Mayfair? He is now, by the death of his cousin,
+quite sure of the title, they say.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Yes it must come to him. His uncle has got something
+wrong with his leg, a fracture that never united quite; it is
+an old hurt, and I'm told he is quite breaking up now. He is at
+Buxton, and going on to Vichy, if he lives, poor man.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Oh, then, there can be no difficulty now.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;No, I heard yesterday it is all settled.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;And what does Caroline Chambray say to that?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p><a class="pagenum" name="Page_186" title="186"> </a>And so on they chatted, till his call was ended, and Mr.
+Longcluse walked down the steps with his head pretty busy.</p>
+
+<p>At the corner of a street he took a cab; and as he drove to
+Lady May's, those fragments of his short talk with Grace
+Maubray that most interested him were tumbling over and over
+in his mind. &ldquo;So they are angry, very angry; and very proud
+and haughty people. I had no business dreaming of an alliance
+with Mr. Richard Arden. Angry, he may be&mdash;he may affect to
+be&mdash;but I don't believe she is. And proud, is he? Proud of
+her he might be, but what else has he to boast of? Proud and
+angry&mdash;ha, ha! Angry and proud. We shall see. Such
+people sometimes grow suddenly mild and meek. And she has
+accepted Lord Wynderbroke. I doubt it. Miss Maubray, you
+are such a good-natured girl that, if you suspected the torture
+your story inflicted, you would invent it, rather than spare a
+fellow-mortal that pang.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>In this we know he was a little unjust.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Well, Miss Arden, I understand your brother; I shall soon
+understand <em>you</em>. At present I hesitate. Alas! must I place
+you, too, in the schedule of my lost friends? Is it come to
+this?&mdash;</p>
+
+<div class="poetry">
+<div class="stanza">
+<div class="line">&lsquo;Once I held thee dear as pearl,<br/></div>
+<div class="line indent1">Now I do abhor thee.&rsquo;&rdquo;<br/></div>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<p>Mr. Longcluse's chin rests on his breast as, with a faint smile,
+he thus ruminates.</p>
+
+<p>The cab stops. The light frown that had contracted his eyebrows
+disappears, he glances quickly up at the drawing-room
+windows, mounts the steps, and knocks at the hall door.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Is Lady May Penrose at home?&rdquo; he asked.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I'll inquire, Sir.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Was it fancy, or was there in his reception something a little
+unusual, and ominous of exclusion?</p>
+
+<p>He was, notwithstanding, shown up-stairs. Mr. Longcluse
+enters the drawing-room: Lady May will see him in a few
+minutes. He is alone. At the further end of this room is a
+smaller one, furnished like the drawing-room, the same curtains,
+carpet, and style, but much more minute and elaborate in
+ornamentation&mdash;an extremely pretty boudoir. He just peeps in.
+No, no one there. Then slowly he saunters into the other
+drawing-room, picks up a book, lays it down, and looks round.
+Quite solitary is this room also. His countenance changes a
+little. With a swift, noiseless step, he returns to the room he
+first entered. There is a little marqueterie table, to which he
+directs his steps, just behind the door from the staircase, under
+the pretty old buhl clock that ticks so merrily with its old
+<a class="pagenum" name="Page_187" title="187"> </a>
+wheels and lever, exciting the reverential curiosity of
+Monsieur Racine, who keeps it in order, and comments on its
+antique works with a mysterious smile every time he comes, to
+any one who will listen to him. The door is a little bit open.
+All the better, Mr. Longcluse will hear any step that approaches.
+On this little table lies an open note, hastily thrown there, and
+the pretty handwriting he has recognised. He knows it is Alice
+Arden's. Without the slightest scruple, this odd gentleman
+takes it up and reads a bit, and looks toward the door; reads a
+little more, and looks again, and so on to the end.</p>
+
+<p>On the principle that listeners seldom hear good of themselves,
+Mr. Longcluse's cautious perusal of another person's
+letter did not tell him a pleasant tale.</p>
+
+<div class="image-center chapter-end">
+<img src="images/ep05.png" width="139" height="116" alt=""/>
+</div>
+
+<div class="image-center chapter-beginning"><a class="pagenum" name="Page_188" title="188"> </a>
+<img src="images/ch02.png" width="466" height="125" alt=""/>
+</div>
+
+<h2 class="no-break">CHAPTER XXXVII.<br/>
+<small>WHAT ALICE COULD SAY.</small></h2>
+
+<div><img class="drop-cap" src="images/drop_t.png" width="72" height="72" alt=""/></div>
+
+<p class="drop-cap"><span class="upper-case">The</span> letter which Mr. Longcluse held before his eyes
+was destined to throw a strong light upon the character
+of Alice Arden's feelings respecting himself. After a
+few lines, it went on to say:&mdash;&ldquo;And, darling, about
+going to you this evening, I hardly know what to say,
+or, I mean, I hardly know how to say it. Mr. Longcluse,
+you know, may come in at any moment, and I have quite
+made up my mind that I cannot know him. I told you all
+about the incredible scene in the garden at Mortlake, and I
+showed you the very cool letter with which he saw fit to
+follow it&mdash;and yesterday the scene at the races, by which he
+contrived to make everything so uncomfortable&mdash;so, my dear
+creature, I mean to be cruel, and cut him. I am quite serious.
+He has not an idea how to behave himself; and the only
+way to repair the folly of having made the acquaintance of such
+an ill-bred person is, as I said, to cut him&mdash;you must not be
+angry&mdash;and Richard thinks exactly as I do. So, as I long to
+see you, and, in fact, can't live away from you very long, we
+must contrive some way of meeting now and then, without
+the risk of being disturbed by him. In the meantime, you
+must come more to Mortlake. It is too bad that an impertinent,
+conceited man should have caused me all this very
+real vexation.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>There was but little more, and it did not refer to the only
+subject that interested Longcluse just then. He would have
+liked to read it through once more, but he thought he heard a
+step. He let it fall where he had found it, and walked to the
+window. Perhaps, if he had read it again, it would have lost
+some of the force which a first impression gives to sentences
+<a class="pagenum" name="Page_189" title="189"> </a>
+so terrible; as it was, they glared upon his retina, through the
+same exaggerating medium through which his excited imagination
+and feelings had scanned them at first.</p>
+
+<p>Lady May entered, and Mr. Longcluse paid his respects, just
+as usual. You would not have supposed that anything had
+occurred to ruffle him. Lady May was just as affable as usual,
+but very much graver. She seemed to have something on her
+mind, and not to know how to begin.</p>
+
+<p>At length, after some little conversation, which flagged once
+or twice&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I have been thinking, Mr. Longcluse, I must have appeared
+very stupid,&rdquo; says Lady May. &ldquo;I did not ask you to be one of
+our party to the Derby: and I think it is always best to be quite
+frank, and I know you like it best. I'm afraid there has been
+some little misunderstanding. I hope in a short time it will be all
+got over, and everything quite pleasant again. But some of our
+friends&mdash;you, no doubt, know more about it than I do, for I must
+confess, I don't very well understand it&mdash;are vexed at something
+that has occurred, and<span style="white-space: nowrap;">&mdash;&mdash;</span>&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Poor Lady May was obviously struggling with the difficulties
+of her explanation, and Mr. Longcluse relieved her.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Pray, dear Lady May, not a word more; you have always
+been so kind to me. Miss Arden and her brother choose to
+visit me with displeasure. I have nothing to reproach myself
+with, except with having misapprehended the terms on which
+Miss Arden is pleased to place me. She may however, be very
+sure that I sha'n't disturb her happy evenings here, or anywhere
+assume my former friendly privileges.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;But Mr. Longcluse, I'm not to lose your acquaintance,&rdquo; said
+kindly Lady May, who was disposed to take an indulgent and
+even a romantic view of Mr. Longcluse's extravagances.
+&ldquo;Perhaps it may be better to avoid a risk of meeting, under
+present circumstances; and, therefore, when I'm quite sure that
+no such awkwardness can occur, I can easily send you a line,
+and you will come if you can. You will do just as it happens to
+answer you best at the time.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;It is extremely kind of you, Lady May. My evenings here
+have been so very happy that the idea of losing them altogether
+would make me more melancholy than I can tell.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Oh, no, I could not consent to lose you, Mr. Longcluse, and
+I'm sure this little quarrel can't last very long. Where people
+are amiable and friendly, there may be a misunderstanding, but
+there can't be a real quarrel, I maintain.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>With this little speech the interview closed, and the gentleman
+took a very friendly leave.</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Longcluse was in trouble. Blows had fallen rapidly upon
+him of late. But, as light is polarised by encountering certain
+<a class="pagenum" name="Page_190" title="190"> </a>
+incidents of reflection and refraction, grief entering his mind
+changed its character.</p>
+
+<p>The only articles of expense in which Mr. Longcluse indulged&mdash;and
+even in those his indulgence was very moderate&mdash;were
+horses. He was something of a judge of horses, and had that
+tendency to form friendships and intimacies with them which is
+proper to some minds. One of these he mounted, and rode
+away into the country, unattended. He took a long ride, at first
+at a tolerably hard pace. He chose the loneliest roads he could
+find. His exercise brought him no appetite; the interesting
+hour of dinner passed unimproved. The horse was tired now.
+Longcluse was slowly returning, and looking listlessly to his
+right, he thus soliloquised:&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Alone again. Not a soul in human shape to disclose my
+wounds to, not a soul. This is the way men go mad. He knows
+too well the torture he consigns me to. How often has my hand
+helped him out of the penalties of the dice-box and betting-book!
+How wildly have I committed myself to him!&mdash;how
+madly have I trusted him! How plausibly has he promised. The
+confounded miscreant! Has he good-nature, gratitude, justice,
+honour? Not a particle. He has betrayed me, slandered me
+fatally, where only on earth I dreaded slander, and he knew it;
+and he has ruined the only good hope I had on earth. He
+has launched it: sharp and heavy is the curse. Wait: it shall
+find him out. And <em>she</em>! I did not think Alice Arden could
+have written that letter. My eyes are opened. Well, she has
+refused to hear my good angel; the other may speak differently.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>He was riding along a narrow old road, with palings, and
+quaint old hedgerows, and now and then an old-fashioned brick
+house, staid and comfortable, with a cluster of lofty timber
+embowering it, and chimney smoke curling cosily over the
+foliage; and as he rode along, sometimes a window, with very
+thick white sashes, and a multitude of very small panes, sometimes
+the summit of a gable appeared. The lowing of unseen
+cows was heard over the fields, and the whistle of the birds in
+the hedges; and behind spread the cloudy sky of sunset, showing
+a peaceful old-world scene, in which Izaak Walton's milkmaid
+might have set down her pail, and sung her pretty song.</p>
+
+<p>Not another footfall was heard but the clink of his own horse's
+hoofs along the narrow road; and, as he looked westward, the
+flush of the sky threw an odd sort of fire-light over his death-pale
+features.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Time will unroll his book,&rdquo; said Longcluse, dreamily, as he
+rode onward, with a loose bridle on his horse's neck, &ldquo;and my
+fingers will trace a name or two on the pages that are <ins title="passing">passing.</ins>
+That sunset, that sky&mdash;how grand, and glorious, and serene&mdash;the
+<a class="pagenum" name="Page_191" title="191"> </a>
+same always. Charlemagne saw it, and the Cæsars saw it,
+and the <ins title="Pharoahs">Pharaohs</ins> saw it, and we see it to-day. Is it worth while
+troubling ourselves here? How grand and quiet nature is, and
+how beautifully imperturbable! Why not we, who last so short
+a time&mdash;why not drift on with it, and take the blows that come,
+and suffer and enjoy the facts of life, and leave its dreadful
+dreams untried? Of all the follies we engage in, what more
+hollow than revenge&mdash;vainer than wealth?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Longcluse was preaching to himself, with the usual
+success of preachers. He knew himself what his harangue was
+driving at, although it borrowed the vagueness of the sky he was
+looking on. He fancied that he was discussing something with
+himself, which, nevertheless, was settled&mdash;so fixed, indeed, that
+nothing had power to alter it.</p>
+
+<div class="image-center chapter-end">
+<img src="images/ep04.png" width="232" height="128" alt=""/>
+</div>
+
+<div class="image-center chapter-beginning"><a class="pagenum" name="Page_192" title="192"> </a>
+<img src="images/ch23.png" width="443" height="83" alt=""/>
+</div>
+
+<h2 class="no-break">CHAPTER XXXVIII.<br/>
+<small>GENTLEMEN IN TROUBLE.</small></h2>
+
+<div><img class="drop-cap" src="images/drop_m.png" width="72" height="73" alt=""/></div>
+
+<p class="drop-cap drop-wide"><span class="upper-case">Mr. Longcluse</span> had now reached a turn in the road,
+at which stands an old house that recedes a little way
+and has four poplars growing in front of it, two at each
+side of the door. There are mouldy walls, and
+gardens, fruit and vegetables, in the rear, and in one wing of the
+house the proprietor is licenced to sell beer and other refreshing
+drinks. This quaint greengrocery and pot-house was not
+flourishing, I conjecture, for a cab was at the door, and Mr.
+Goldshed, the eminent Hebrew, on the steps, apparently on the
+point of leaving.</p>
+
+<p>He is a short, square man, a little round shouldered. He is
+very bald, with coarse, black hair, that might not <ins title="unsuitable">unsuitably</ins>
+stuff a chair. His nose is big and drooping, his lips large and
+moist. He wears a black satin waistcoat, thrust up into wrinkles
+by his habit of stuffing his short hands, bedizened with rings,
+into his trousers pockets. He has on a peculiar low-crowned
+hat. He is smoking a cigar, and talking over his shoulder, at
+intervals, in brief sentences that have a harsh, brazen ring, and
+are charged with scoff and menace. No game is too small for
+Mr. Goldshed's pursuit. He ought to have made two hundred
+pounds of this little venture. He has not lost, it is true; but,
+when all is squared, he'll not have made a shilling, and that for
+a Jew, you know, is very hard to bear.</p>
+
+<p>In the midst of this intermittent snarl, the large, dark eyes of
+this man lighted on Mr. Longcluse, and he arrested the sentence
+that was about to fly over his shoulder, in the disconsolate faces of
+the broken little family in the passage. A smile suddenly
+beamed all over his dusky features, his airs of lordship quite
+forsook him, and he lifted his hat to the great man with a cringing
+salutation. The weaker spirit was overawed by the more potent.
+<a class="pagenum" name="Page_193" title="193"> </a>
+It was the catape doing homage to Mephistopheles, in the
+witch's chamber.</p>
+
+<p>He shuffled out upon the road, with a lazy smile, lifting his hat
+again, and very deferentially greeted &ldquo;Mishter Longclooshe.&rdquo;
+He had thrown away his exhausted cigar, and the red sun
+glittered in sparkles on the chains and jewelry that were looped
+across his wrinkled black satin waistcoat.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;How d'ye do, Mr. Goldshed? Anything particular to say to
+me?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Nothing, no, Mr. Longclooshe. I sposhe you heard of that
+dip in the Honduras?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;They'll get over it, but we sha'n't see them so high again
+soon. Have you that cab all to yourself, Mr. Goldshed?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;No, Shir, my partner'sh with me. He'll be out in a minute;
+he'sh only puttin' a chap on to make out an inventory.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Well, I don't want him. Would you mind walking down the
+road here, a couple of hundred steps or so? I have a word for
+you. Your partner can overtake you in the cab.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Shertainly, Mr. Longclooshe, shertainly, Shir.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>And he halloed to the cabman to tell the &ldquo;zhentleman&rdquo; who
+was coming out to overtake him in the cab on the road to town.</p>
+
+<p>This settled, Mr. Longcluse, walking his horse along the road,
+and his City acquaintance by his side, slowly made their way
+towards the City, casting long shadows over the low fence into
+the field at their left; and Mr. Goldshed's stumpy legs were
+projected across the road in such slender proportions that he
+felt for a moment rather slight and elegant, and was unusually
+disgusted, when he glanced down upon the substance of those
+shadows, at the unnecessarily clumsy style in which Messrs.
+Shears and Goslin had cut out his brown trousers.</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Longcluse had a good deal to say when they got on a
+little. Being earnest, he stopped his horse; and Mr. Goldshed,
+forgetting his reverence in his absorption, placed his broad hand
+on the horse's shoulder, as he looked up into Mr. Longcluse's
+face, and now and then nodded, or grunted a &ldquo;Surely.&rdquo; It was
+not until the shadows had grown perceptibly longer, until Mr.
+Longcluse's hat had stolen away to the gilded stem of the old
+ash-tree that was in perspective to their left, and until Mr.
+Goldshed's legs had grown so taper and elegant as to amount to
+the spindle, that the talk ended, and Mr. Longcluse, who was a
+little shy of being seen in such company, bid him good evening,
+and rode away townward at a brisk trot.</p>
+
+<p>That morning Richard Arden looked as if he had got up after
+a month's fever. His dinner had been a pretence, and his
+breakfast was a sham. His luck, as he termed it, had got him
+at last pretty well into a corner. The placing of the horses was
+a dreadful record of moral impossibilities accomplished against
+<a class="pagenum" name="Page_194" title="194"> </a>
+him. Five minutes before the start he could have sold his book for
+three thousand pounds; five minutes after it no one would have
+accepted fifteen thousand to take it off his hands. The shock,
+at first a confusion, had grown in the night into ghastly order.
+It was all, in the terms of the good old simile, &ldquo;as plain as a pike-staff.&rdquo;
+He simply could not pay. He might sell everything he
+possessed, and pay about ten shillings in the pound, and then
+work his passage to another country, and become an Australian
+drayman, or a New Orleans billiard-marker.</p>
+
+<p>But not <ins title="pays">pay</ins> his bets! And how could he? Ten shillings
+in the pound? Not five. He forgot how far he was already
+involved. What <em>was</em> to become of him. Breakfast he could eat
+none. He drank a cup of tea, but his tremors grew worse. He
+tried claret, but that, too, was chilly comfort. He was driven to
+an experiment he had never ventured before. He had a &ldquo;nip,&rdquo;
+and another, and with this Dutch courage rallied a little, and
+was able to talk to his friend and admirer, Vandeleur, who had
+made a miniature book after the pattern of Dick Arden's and
+had lost some hundreds, which he did not know how to pay;
+and who was, in his degree, as miserable as his chief; for is it
+not established that&mdash;</p>
+
+<div class="poetry">
+<div class="stanza">
+<div class="line">&ldquo;The poor beetle, that we tread upon,<br/></div>
+<div class="line indent1">In corporal sufferance feels a pang as great<br/></div>
+<div class="line indent1">As when a giant dies&rdquo;?<br/></div>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<p>Young Vandeleur, with light silken hair, and innocent blue
+eyes, found his paragon the picture of &ldquo;grim-visaged, comfortless
+despair,&rdquo; drumming a tattoo on the window, in slippers and
+dressing-gown, without a collar to his shirt.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You lost, of course,&rdquo; said Richard savagely; &ldquo;you followed
+my lead. Any fellow that does is sure to lose.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; answered Vandeleur, &ldquo;I did, heavily; and, I give you
+my honour, I believe I'm ruined.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;How much?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Two hundred and forty pounds!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;<em>Ruined!</em> What nonsense! Who are you? or what the
+devil are you making such a row about? Two hundred and
+forty! How can you be such an ass? Don't you know it's
+nothing?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Nothing! By Jove! I wish I could see it,&rdquo; said poor Van;
+&ldquo;everything's something to any one, when there's nothing to pay
+it with. I'm not like you, you know; I'm awfully poor. I have
+just a hundred and twenty pounds from my office, and forty my
+aunt gives me, and ninety I get from home, and, upon my
+honour, that's all; and I owed just a hundred pounds to some
+fellows that were growing impertinent. My tailor is sixty-four,
+<a class="pagenum" name="Page_195" title="195"> </a>
+and the rest are <ins title="rifling">trifling</ins>, but they were the most impertinent, and
+I was so sure of this unfortunate thing that I told them I&mdash;really
+did&mdash;to call next week; and now I suppose it's all up with me,
+I may as well make a bolt of it. Instead of having any money
+to pay them, I'm two hundred and forty pounds worse than ever.
+I don't know what on earth to do. Upon my honour, I haven't
+an idea.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I wish we could exchange our accounts,&rdquo; said Richard
+grimly: &ldquo;I wish you owed my sixteen thousand. I think you'd
+sink through the earth. I think you'd call for a pistol, and
+blow&rdquo;&mdash;(he was going to say, &ldquo;your brains out,&rdquo; but he would
+not pay him that compliment)&mdash;&ldquo;blow your head off.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>So it was the old case&mdash;&ldquo;<i>Enter Tilburina, mad, in white
+satin; enter her maid, mad, in white linen.</i>&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>And Richard Arden continued&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;What's your aunt good for? You <em>know</em> she will pay that;
+don't let me hear a word more about it.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;And your uncle will pay yours, won't he?&rdquo; said Van, with
+an innocent gaze of his azure eyes.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;My uncle has paid some trifles before, but this is too big a
+thing. He's tired of me and my cursed misfortunes, and he's
+not likely to apply any of his overgrown wealth in relieving a
+poor tortured beggar like me. I'm simply ruined.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<div class="image-center chapter-end">
+<img src="images/ep03.png" width="197" height="121" alt=""/>
+</div>
+
+<div class="image-center chapter-beginning"><a class="pagenum" name="Page_196" title="196"> </a>
+<img src="images/ch19.png" width="470" height="100" alt=""/>
+</div>
+
+<h2 class="no-break">CHAPTER XXXIX.<br/>
+<small>BETWEEN FRIENDS.</small></h2>
+
+<div><img class="drop-cap" src="images/drop_v.png" width="72" height="72" alt=""/></div>
+
+<p class="drop-cap"><span class="upper-case">Van</span> was looking ruefully out of the window, down
+upon the deserted pavement opposite. At length he
+said,&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;And why don't you give your luck a chance?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Whenever I give it a chance it hits me so devilish hard,&rdquo;
+replied Richard Arden.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;But I mean at play to retrieve,&rdquo; said Van.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;So do I. So I did, last night, and lost another thousand.
+It is utterly monstrous.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;By Jove! that is really very extraordinary,&rdquo; exclaimed little
+Van. &ldquo;I tried it, too, last night. Tom Franklyn had some
+fellows to sup with him, and I went in, and they were playing
+loo; and I lost thirty-seven pounds more!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Thirty-seven confounded flea-bites! Why, don't you see
+how you torture me with your nonsense? If you can't talk like
+a man of sense, for Heaven's sake, shut up, and don't distract
+me in my misery.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>He emphasised the word with a Lilliputian thump with the
+side of his fist&mdash;that which presents the edge of the doubled-up
+little finger and palm&mdash;a sort of buffer, which I suppose he
+thought he might safely apply to the pane of glass on which
+he had been drumming. But he hit a little too hard, or
+there was a flaw in the glass, for the pane flew out, touching
+the window-sill, and alighted in the area with a musical jingle.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;There! see what you made me do. My luck! Now we
+can't talk without those brutes at that open window, over the
+way, hearing every word we say. By Jove, it is later than I
+thought! I did not sleep last night.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Nor I, a moment,&rdquo; said Van.</p>
+
+<p><a class="pagenum" name="Page_197" title="197"> </a>&ldquo;It seems like a week since that accursed race, and I don't
+know whether it is morning or evening, or day or night. It
+is past four, and I must dress and go to my uncle&mdash;he said
+five. Don't leave me, Van, old fellow! I think I should cut
+my throat if I were alone.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Oh, no, I'll stay with pleasure, although I don't see what
+comfort there is in me, for I am about the most miserable
+dog in London.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Now don't make a fool of yourself any more,&rdquo; said Richard
+Arden. &ldquo;You have only to tell your aunt, and say that you
+are a prodigal son, and that sort of thing, and it will be paid
+in a week. I look as if I was going to be hanged&mdash;or is it
+the colour of that glass? I hate it. I'll leave these cursed
+lodgings. Did you ever see such a ghost?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Well, you do look a trifle seedy: you'll look better when
+you're dressed. It's an awful world to live in,&rdquo; said poor Van.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I'll not be five minutes; you must walk with me a bit of
+the way. I wish I had some fellow at my other side who
+had lost a hundred thousand. I daresay he'd think me a
+fool. They say Chiffington lost a hundred and forty thousand.
+Perhaps he'd think me as great an ass as I think you&mdash;who
+knows? I may be making too much of it&mdash;and my uncle is
+so very rich, and neither wife nor child; and, I give you my
+honour, I am sick of the whole thing. I'd never take a card
+or a dice-box in my hand, or back a horse, while I live, if I was
+once fairly out of it. He <em>might</em> try me, don't you think? I'm
+the only near relation he has on earth&mdash;I don't count my father,
+for he's&mdash;it's a different thing, you know&mdash;I and my sister, just.
+And, really, it would be nothing to him. And I think he
+suspected something about it last night; perhaps he heard a
+little of it. And he's rather hot, but he's a good-natured fellow,
+and he has commercial ideas about a man's going into the insolvent
+court; and, by Jove, you know, I'm ruined, and I don't
+think he'd like to see our name disgraced&mdash;eh, do you?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;No, I'm quite sure,&rdquo; said Van. &ldquo;I thought so all along.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Peers and peeresses are very fine in their way, and people,
+whenever the peers do anything foolish, and throw out a bill,
+exclaim &lsquo;Thank Heaven we have still a House of Lords!&rsquo; but
+you and I, Van, may thank Heaven for a better estate, the order
+of aunts and uncles. Do you remember the man you and I
+saw in the vaudeville, who exclaims every now and then, &lsquo;<i lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">Vive
+mon oncle! Vive ma tante!</i>&rsquo;?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>So, in better spirits, Arden prepared to visit his uncle.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Let us get into a cab; people are staring at you,&rdquo; said
+Richard Arden, when they had walked a little way towards his
+uncle's house. &ldquo;You look so utterly ruined, one would think
+you had swallowed poison, and were dying by inches, and
+<a class="pagenum" name="Page_198" title="198"> </a>
+expected to be in the other world before you reached your
+doctor's door. Here's a cab.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>They got in, and sitting side by side, said Vandeleur to him,
+after a minute's silence,&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I've been thinking of a thing&mdash;why did not you take Mr.
+Longcluse into council? He gave you a lift before, don't you
+remember? and he lost nothing by it, and made everything
+smooth. Why don't you look him up?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I've been an awful fool, Van.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;How so?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I've had a sort of row with Longcluse, and there are reasons&mdash;I
+could not, at all events, have asked him. It would have
+been next to impossible, and now it is <em>quite</em> impossible.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Why should it be? He seemed to like you; and I venture
+to say he'd be very glad to shake hands.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;So he might, but <em>I</em> shouldn't,&rdquo; said Richard imperiously.
+&ldquo;No, no, there's nothing in that. It would take too long to
+tell; but I should rather go over the precipice than hold by that
+stay. I don't know how long my uncle may keep me. Would
+you mind waiting for me at my lodgings? Thompson will give
+you cigars and brandy and water; and I'll come back and tell
+you what my uncle intends.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>This appointment made, they parted, and he knocked at his
+uncle's door. The sound seemed to echo threateningly at his
+heart, which sank with a sudden misgiving.</p>
+
+<div class="image-center chapter-end">
+<img src="images/ep14.png" width="280" height="60" alt=""/>
+</div>
+
+<div class="image-center chapter-beginning"><a class="pagenum" name="Page_199" title="199"> </a>
+<img src="images/ch09.png" width="464" height="77" alt=""/>
+</div>
+
+<h2 class="no-break">CHAPTER XL.<br/>
+<small>AN INTERVIEW IN THE STUDY.</small></h2>
+
+<div><img class="drop-cap" src="images/drop_i.png" width="73" height="73" alt=""/></div>
+
+<p class="drop-cap drop-narrow"><span class="upper-case">&ldquo;Is</span> my uncle at home?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;No, Sir; I expect him at five. It wants
+about five minutes; but he desired me to show
+you, Sir, into the study.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>He was now alone in that large square room. The books,
+each in its place, in a vellum uniform, with a military precision
+and nattiness&mdash;seldom disturbed, I fancy, for Uncle David was
+not much of a book-worm&mdash;chilled him with an aspect of inflexible
+formality; and the busts, in cold white marble, standing
+at intervals on their pedestals, seemed to have called up looks,
+like Mrs. Pentweezle, for the occasion. Demosthenes, with his
+wrenched neck and square brow, had evidently heard of his
+dealings with Lord Pindledykes, and made up his mind, when the
+proper time came, to denounce him with a tempest of appropriate
+eloquence. There was in Cicero's face, he <ins title="though">thought</ins>, something
+satirical and conceited which was new and odious; and under
+Plato's external solemnity he detected a pleasurable and roguish
+anticipation of the coming scene.</p>
+
+<p>His uncle was very punctual. A few minutes would see him
+in the room, and then two or three sentences would disclose the
+purpose he meditated. In the midst of the trepidation which
+had thus returned, he heard his uncle's knock at the hall-door,
+and in another moment he entered the study.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;How d'ye do, Richard? You're punctual. I wish our
+meeting was a pleasanter one. Sit down. You haven't kept
+faith with me. It is scarcely a year since, with a large sum of
+money, such as at your age I should have thought a fortune,
+I rescued you from bad hands and a great danger. Now, Sir,
+do you remember a promise you then made me? and have
+you kept your word?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p><a class="pagenum" name="Page_200" title="200"> </a>&ldquo;I confess, uncle, I know I can't excuse myself; but I was
+tempted, and I am weak&mdash;I am a fool, worse than a fool&mdash;whatever
+you please to call me, and I'm sorry. Can I say
+more?&rdquo; pleaded the young man.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;That is saying nothing. It simply means that you do the
+thing that pleases you, and break your word where your
+inclination prompts; and you are sorry because it has turned
+out unluckily. I have heard that you are again in danger. <ins title="I I">I</ins>
+am not going to help you.&rdquo; His blue eyes looked cold and
+hard, and the oblique light showed severe lines at his brows
+and mouth. It was a face which, generally kindly, could yet
+look, on occasion, stern enough. &ldquo;Now, observe, I'm not going
+to help you; I'm not even going to reason with you&mdash;you can
+do that for yourself, if you please&mdash;I will simply help you with
+<em>light</em>. Thus forewarned, you need not, of course, answer any
+one of the questions I am about to put, and to ask which, I
+have no other claim than that which rests upon having put
+you on your feet, and paid five thousand pounds for you, only
+a year ago.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;But I entreat that you do put them. I'm ashamed of
+myself, dear Uncle David; I implore of you to ask me whatever
+you please: I'll answer everything.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Well, I think I know everything; Lord Pindledykes makes
+no secret of it. He's the man, isn't he?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Yes, Sir.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;That's the sallow, dissipated-looking fellow, with the eye
+that squints outward. I know his appearance very well; I
+knew his good-for-nothing father. No one likes to have
+transactions with that fellow&mdash;he's shunned&mdash;and you chose
+him, of all people; and he has pigeoned you. I've heard all
+about it. Everybody knows by this time. And you have really
+lost fifteen thousand pounds to him?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I am afraid, uncle, it is very near that.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;This, you know,&rdquo; resumed Uncle David, &ldquo;is not debt: it is
+ruin. You chose to mortgage your reversion to some Jews, for
+fifteen hundred a year, during your father's lifetime. Three
+hundred would have been ample, with the hundred a year you
+had before&mdash;ample; but you chose to do it, and the estates,
+whenever you succeed to them, will come to you with a very
+heavy debt charged, for those Jews, upon them. I don't suppose
+the estates are destined to continue long in our family; but this
+is a vexation which don't touch you, nephew. <em>I</em> am, I confess,
+sorry. They were in our family, some of them, before the
+Conquest. No matter. What you have to consider is your
+present position. They will come to you, if ever, saddled with
+a heavy debt; and, in the meantime, you have fifteen hundred
+a year for your father's life; and I don't think it will sell for
+<a class="pagenum" name="Page_201" title="201"> </a>
+anything like the fifteen thousand pounds you have just lost.
+You are therefore insolvent; there is the story told. I see
+nothing for it but your becoming formally an insolvent. It is
+the <i lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">bourgeoisie</i> who shrink from that sort of thing; titled men,
+and men of pleasure and fashion, don't seem to mind it.
+There are Lord Harry Newgate, and the Honourable Alfred
+Pentonville, and Sir Aymerick Pigeon, one of the oldest
+baronets in England, have been in the <cite>Gazette</cite> within the last
+twelve months. The money I paid, on the faith of your
+promise, is worse than wasted. I'll pay no more into the
+pockets of rooks and scoundrels; I'll divide no more of my
+money among blackguard jockeys and villanous peers, simply
+to defer for a few months the consequences of a fool's incorrigible
+folly.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;But, you know, uncle, I was not quite so mad. The thing
+was a swindle; it can't stand. The horse was not fairly
+treated.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I daresay: I suppose it was doctored. I don't care; I only
+think that unless you meant to go in for drugging horses and
+bribing jockeys, you had no business among such people, and
+at that sort of game. All I want is that you clearly understand
+that in this matter&mdash;though I would gladly see you safely out of
+it&mdash;I'll waste no more money in paying gambling debts.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;This might have happened to anyone, Sir; it might indeed,
+uncle. Every second man you meet is more or less on the turf,
+and they never come to grief by it. No one, of course, can
+stand against a barefaced swindle, like this thing.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I don't care a farthing about other people; I've seen how it
+tells upon you. I don't affect to value your promises, Dick; I
+don't think that they are worth a shilling. How many have you
+made me, and broken? To me it seems the vice is incurable,
+like drunkenness. Tattersall's, or whatever is your place of
+business, is no better than the gin-palace; and when once a
+fellow is fairly on the turf, the sooner he is under it, the better
+for himself and all who like him. And you have lost money at
+play besides. I heard that quite accidentally; and I daresay
+that is a ruinous item in what I may call your schedule.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I know what people are saying; but it isn't so immense a
+sum, by any means.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I'm sorry to hear it. I wish it was enormous; I wish it
+was a million. I wish your failure could ruin every blackguard
+in England: the more heavily you have hit them all round, the
+better I am pleased. They hit you and me, Dick, pretty hard
+last time; it is our turn now. It is not my fault now, Dick, if
+you don't understand me perfectly. If at any future time I
+should do anything for you&mdash;by my <em>will</em>, mind&mdash;I shall take
+care so to tie it up that you can't make away with a guinea. My
+<a class="pagenum" name="Page_202" title="202"> </a>
+advice is not worth much to you, but I venture to give it, and I
+think the best thing you can do is to submit to your misfortune,
+and file your schedule; and when you are your own master
+again, I shall see if I can manage some small thing for you.
+You will have to work for your bread, you know, and you can't
+expect very much at first; but there are things&mdash;of course, I
+mean in commercial establishments, and railways, and that kind
+of thing&mdash;where I have an influence, of from a hundred and
+twenty to two hundred pounds a year, and for some of them
+you would answer pretty well, and you can tide over the time
+till you succeed to the title: and after a little while I may be
+able to get you raised a step; and when once you get accustomed
+to work, you can't think how you will come to like it. So that,
+on the whole, the knock you have got may do you some good,
+and make you prize your position more when you come to it.
+Will you go up-stairs, and take a cup of tea with Miss Maubray?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>He used to call her Grace, when speaking to Richard.
+Perhaps, in the concussion of this earthquake, the fabric of a
+matrimonial scheme may have fallen to the ground.</p>
+
+<p>Richard Arden was too dejected and too agitated to accept
+this invitation, I need hardly tell you. He took his leave,
+chapfallen.</p>
+
+<div class="image-center chapter-end">
+<img src="images/ep28.png" width="282" height="67" alt=""/>
+</div>
+
+<div class="image-center chapter-beginning"><a class="pagenum" name="Page_203" title="203"> </a>
+<img src="images/ch41.png" width="469" height="84" alt=""/>
+</div>
+
+<h2 class="no-break">CHAPTER XLI.<br/>
+<small>VAN APPOINTS HIMSELF TO A DIPLOMATIC POST.</small></h2>
+
+<div><img class="drop-cap" src="images/drop_m.png" width="72" height="73" alt=""/></div>
+
+<p class="drop-cap drop-wide"><span class="upper-case">Mr. Vandeleur</span> had availed himself very freely of
+Richard Arden's invitation, to amuse himself during
+his absence with his cheroots and manillas, as the
+clouded state of the atmosphere of his drawing-room
+testified to that luckless gentleman&mdash;if indeed he was in a
+condition to observe anything, on returning from his dreadful
+interview with his uncle.</p>
+
+<p>Richard's countenance was full of thunder and disaster.
+Vandeleur looked in his face, with his cigar in his fingers, and
+said in a faint and hollow tone&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Well?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>To which inappropriate form of inquiry, Richard Arden
+deigned no reply; but in silence stalked to the box of cigars on
+the table, threw himself into a chair, and smoked violently for
+awhile.</p>
+
+<p>Some minutes passed. Vandeleur's eyes were fixed, through
+the smoke, on Richard's, who had fixed his on the chimney-piece.
+Van respected his ruminations. With a delicate and
+noiseless attention, indeed, he ventured to slide gently to his
+side the water carafe, and the brandy, and a tumbler.</p>
+
+<p>Still silence prevailed. After a time, Richard Arden poured
+brandy and water suddenly into his glass.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Think of that fellow, that uncle of mine&mdash;pretty uncle!
+Kind relation&mdash;rolling in money! He sends for me simply to
+tell me that he won't give me a guinea. He might have waited
+till he was asked. If he had nothing better to say, he need not
+have given me the trouble of going to his odious, bleak study,
+to hear all his vulgar advice and arithmetic, ending in&mdash;what do
+you think? He says that I'm to be had up in the bankrupt
+court, and when all that is over he'll get me appointed a ticket-taker
+<a class="pagenum" name="Page_204" title="204"> </a>
+on a railway, or a clerk in a pawn-office, or something.
+By Heaven! when I think of it, I wonder how I kept my
+temper. I'm not quite driven to those curious expedients, that
+he seems to think so natural. I've some cards still left in my
+hand, and I'll play them first, if it is the same to him; and,
+hang it! my luck can't always run the same way. I'll give it
+another chance before I give up, and to-morrow morning things
+may be very different with me.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;It's an awful pity you quarrelled with Longcluse!&rdquo; exclaimed
+Vandeleur.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;That's done, and can't be undone,&rdquo; said Richard Arden,
+resuming his cigar.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I wonder why you quarrelled with him. Why, good
+heavens! that man is made of money, and he got you safe out
+of that fellow's clutches&mdash;I forget his name&mdash;about that bet
+with Mr. Slanter, don't you remember&mdash;and he was so very
+kind about it; and I'm sure he'd shake hands if you'd only ask
+him, and one way or another he'd pull you through.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I can't ask him, and I won't; he may ask <em>me</em> if he likes.
+I'm very sure there is nothing he would like better, for fifty
+reasons, than to be on good terms with me again, and I have
+no wish to quarrel any more than he has. But if there is to be
+a reconciliation, I can't begin it. He must make the overtures,
+and that's all.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;He seemed such an awfully jolly fellow that time. And it
+is such a frightful state we are both in. I never came such a
+mucker before in my life. I know him pretty well. I met him
+at Lady May Penrose's, and at the Playfairs', and one night I
+walked home with him from the opera. It is an awful pity you
+are not on terms with him, and&mdash;by Jove! I must go and have
+something to eat; it is near eight o'clock.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Away went Van, and out of the wreck of his fortune contrived
+a modest dinner at Verey's; and pondering, after dinner, upon
+the awful plight of himself and his comrade, he came at last to
+the heroic resolution of braving the dangers of a visit to Mr.
+Longcluse, on behalf of his friend; and as it was now past
+nine, he hastily paid the waiter, took his hat, and set out upon
+his adventure. It was a mere chance, he knew, and a very unlikely
+one, his finding Mr. Longcluse at home at that hour. He
+knew that he was doing a very odd thing in calling at past nine
+o'clock; but the occasion was anomalous, and Mr. Longcluse
+would understand. He knocked at the door, and learned from
+the servant that his master was engaged with a gentleman in
+the study, on business. From this room he heard a voice,
+faintly discoursing in a deep metallic drawl.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Who shall I say, Sir?&rdquo; asked the servant.</p>
+
+<p>If his mission had been less monotonous, and he less excited
+<a class="pagenum" name="Page_205" title="205"> </a>
+and sanguine as to his diplomatic success, he would have, as he
+said, &ldquo;funked it altogether,&rdquo; and gone away. He hesitated for
+a moment, and determined upon the form most likely to procure
+an interview.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Say Mr. Vandeleur&mdash;a friend of Mr. Richard Arden's; you'll
+remember, please&mdash;a friend of Mr. Richard Arden's.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>In a moment the man returned.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Will you please to walk up-stairs?&rdquo; and he showed him into
+the drawing-room.</p>
+
+<p>In little more than a minute, Mr. Longcluse himself entered.
+His eyes were fixed on the visitor with a rather stern curiosity.
+Perhaps he had interpreted the term &ldquo;friend&rdquo; a little too
+technically. He made him a ceremonious bow, in French
+fashion, and placed a chair for him.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I had the pleasure of being introduced to you, Mr. Longcluse,
+at Lady May Penrose's. My name is Vandeleur.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I have had that honour, Mr. Vandeleur, I remember
+perfectly. The servant mentioned that you announced yourself
+as Mr. Arden's friend, if I don't mistake.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<div class="image-center chapter-end">
+<img src="images/ep04.png" width="232" height="128" alt=""/>
+</div>
+
+<div class="image-center chapter-beginning"><a class="pagenum" name="Page_206" title="206"> </a>
+<img src="images/ch23.png" width="443" height="83" alt=""/>
+</div>
+
+<h2 class="no-break">CHAPTER XLII.<br/>
+<small>DIPLOMACY.</small></h2>
+
+<div><img class="drop-cap" src="images/drop_m.png" width="72" height="73" alt=""/></div>
+
+<p class="drop-cap drop-wide"><span class="upper-case">Mr. Vandeleur</span> and Mr. Longcluse were now
+seated, and the former gentleman said&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Yes, I am a friend of Mr. Arden's&mdash;so much so,
+that I have ventured what I hope you won't think a
+very impertinent liberty. I was so very sorry to hear that a
+misunderstanding had occurred&mdash;I did not ask him about what&mdash;and
+he has been so unlucky about the Derby, you know&mdash;I
+ought to say that I am, upon my honour, a mere volunteer, so
+perhaps you will think I have no right to ask you to listen to
+me.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I shall be happy to continue this conversation, Mr. Vandeleur,
+upon one condition.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Pray name it.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;That you report it fully to the gentleman for whom you are
+so kind as to interest yourself.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Yes, I'll certainly do that.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Longcluse looked by no means so jolly as Van remembered
+him, and he thought he detected, at mention of Richard
+Arden's name, for a moment, a look of positive malevolence&mdash;I
+can't say absolutely, it may have been fancy&mdash;as he turned
+quickly, and the light played suddenly on his face.</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Longcluse could, perhaps, dissemble as well as other men;
+but there were cases in which he would not be at the trouble to
+dissemble. And here his expression was so unpleasant, upon
+features so strangely marked and so white, that Van thought the
+effect ugly, and even ghastly.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I shall be happy, then, to hear anything you have to say,&rdquo;
+said Longcluse gently.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You are very kind. I was just going to say that he has been
+so unlucky&mdash;he has lost so much money<span style="white-space: nowrap;">&mdash;&mdash;</span>&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p><a class="pagenum" name="Page_207" title="207"> </a>&ldquo;I had better say, I think, at once, Mr. Vandeleur, that nothing
+shall tempt me to take any part in Mr. Arden's affairs.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Van's mild blue eyes looked on him wonderingly.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You could be of so much use, Mr. Longcluse!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I don't desire to be of any.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;But&mdash;but that may be, I think it must, in consequence of
+the unhappy estrangement.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>He had been conning over phrases on his way, and thought
+that a pretty one.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;A very happy estrangement, on the contrary, for the man who
+is straight and true, and who is by it relieved of a great&mdash;mistake.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I should be so extremely happy,&rdquo; said Van lingeringly, &ldquo;if
+I were instrumental in inducing both parties to shake hands.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I don't desire it.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;But, surely, if Richard Arden were the first to offer<span style="white-space: nowrap;">&mdash;&mdash;</span>&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I should decline.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Van rose; he fiddled with his hat a little; he hesitated. He
+had staked too much on this&mdash;for had he not promised to report
+the whole thing to Richard Arden, who was not likely to be
+pleased?&mdash;to give up without one last effort.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I hope I am not very impertinent,&rdquo; he said, &ldquo;but I can
+hardly think, Mr. Longcluse, that you are quite indifferent to a
+reconciliation.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I'm not indifferent&mdash;I'm averse to it.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I don't understand.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Will you take some tea?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;No, thanks; I do so hope that I don't quite understand.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;That's hardly my fault; I have spoken very distinctly.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Then what you wish to convey is<span style="white-space: nowrap;">&mdash;&mdash;</span>&rdquo; said Van, with his
+hand now at the door.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Is this,&rdquo; said Longcluse, &ldquo;that I decline Mr. Arden's acquaintance,
+that I won't consider his affairs, and that I peremptorily
+refuse to be of the slightest use to him in his difficulties.
+I hope I am now sufficiently distinct.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Oh, perfectly&mdash;I<span style="white-space: nowrap;">&mdash;&mdash;</span>&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Pray take some tea.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;And my visit is a failure. I'm awfully sorry I can't be of
+any use!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;None here, Sir, to Mr. Arden&mdash;none, no more than I.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Then I have only to beg of you to accept my apologies for
+having given you a great deal of trouble, and to beg pardon for
+having disturbed you, and to say good-night.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;No trouble&mdash;none. I am glad everything is clear now.
+Good-night.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>And Mr. Longcluse saw him politely to the door, and said
+again, in a clear, stern tone, but with a smile and another bow,
+&ldquo;Good-night,&rdquo; as he parted at the door.</p>
+
+<p><a class="pagenum" name="Page_208" title="208"> </a>About an hour later a servant arrived with a letter for Mr.
+Longcluse. That gentleman recognised the hand, and suspended
+his business to read it. He did so with a smile. It was
+thus expressed:&mdash;</p>
+
+<blockquote>
+<p class="small-caps">&ldquo;Sir,</p>
+
+<p class="larger-indent">&ldquo;I beg to inform you, in the distinctest terms, that neither Mr.
+Vandeleur, nor any other gentleman, had any authority from me to
+enter into any discussion with you, or to make the slightest allusion to
+subjects upon which Mr. Vandeleur, at your desire, tells me he, this
+evening, thought fit to converse with you. And I beg, in the most
+pointed manner, to disavow all connection with, or previous knowledge
+of, that gentleman's visit and conversation. And I do so lest Mr.
+Vandeleur's assertion to the same effect should appear imperfect without
+mine.&mdash;I remain, Sir, your obedient servant,</p>
+
+<p class="right small-caps">&ldquo;Richard Arden.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;To Walter Longcluse, Esq.&rdquo;</p>
+</blockquote>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Does any one wait for an answer?&rdquo; he asked, still smiling.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Yes, Sir: Mr. Thompson, please, Sir.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Very well; ask him to wait a moment,&rdquo; said he, and he
+wrote as follows:&mdash;</p>
+
+<blockquote>
+<p>&ldquo;Mr. Longcluse takes the liberty of returning Mr. Arden's letter,
+and begs to decline any correspondence with him.&rdquo;</p>
+</blockquote>
+
+<p>And this note, with Richard Arden's letter, he enclosed in an
+envelope, and addressed to that gentleman.</p>
+
+<p>While this correspondence, by no means friendly, was proceeding,
+other letters were interesting, very profoundly, other
+persons in this drama.</p>
+
+<p>Old David Arden had returned early from a ponderous dinner
+of the magnates of that world which interested him more than
+the world of fashion, or even of politics, and he was sitting in
+his study at half-past ten, about a quarter of a mile westward of
+Mr. Longcluse's house in Bolton Street.</p>
+
+<p>Not many letters had come for him by the late post. There
+were two which he chose to read forthwith. The rest would, in
+Swift's phrase, keep cool, and he could read them before his
+breakfast in the morning. The first was a note posted at Islington.
+He knew his niece's pretty hand. This was an &ldquo;advice&rdquo;
+from Mortlake. The second which he picked up from the little
+pack was a foreign letter, of more than usual bulk.</p>
+
+<div class="image-center chapter-beginning"><a class="pagenum" name="Page_209" title="209"> </a>
+<img src="images/ch06.png" width="442" height="85" alt=""/>
+</div>
+
+<h2 class="no-break">CHAPTER XLIII.<br/>
+<small>A LETTER AND A SUMMONS.</small></h2>
+
+<div><img class="drop-cap" src="images/drop_p.png" width="70" height="72" alt=""/></div>
+
+<p class="drop-cap"><span class="upper-case">Paris?</span> Yes, he knew the hand well. His face darkened
+a little with a peculiar anxiety. This he will
+read first. He draws the candles all together, near
+the corner of the table at which he sits. He can't
+have too much light on these formal lines, legible and tall as
+the letters are. He opens the thin envelope, and reads what
+follows:&mdash;</p>
+
+<blockquote>
+<p class="small-caps">&ldquo;Dear and Honoured Sir,</p>
+
+<p class="larger-indent">&ldquo;I am in receipt of yours of the 13th instant. You judge
+me rightly in supposing that I have entered on my mission with a willing
+mind, and no thought of sparing myself. On the 11th instant I
+presented the letter you were so good as to provide me with to M. de la
+Perriere. He received me with much consideration in consequence.
+You have not been misinformed with regard to his position. His influence
+is, and so long as the present Cabinet remain in power will continue
+to be, more than sufficient to procure for me the information and
+opportunities you so much desire. He explained to me very fully the
+limits of that assistance which official people here have it in their power
+to afford. Their prerogative is more extensive than with us, but at the
+same time it has its points of circumscription. Every private citizen has
+his well-defined rights, which they can in no case invade. He says
+that had I come armed with affidavits criminating any individual, or
+even justifying a strong and distinct suspicion, their powers would be
+much larger. As it is, he cautions me against taking any steps that
+might alarm Vanboeren. The baron is a suspicious man, it seems, and
+has, moreover, once or twice been under official surveillance, which has
+made him crafty. He is not likely to be caught napping. He ostensibly
+practises the professions of a surgeon and dentist. In the latter capacity
+he has a very considerable business. But his principal income is derived,
+I am informed, from sources of a different kind.&rdquo;</p>
+</blockquote>
+
+<p><a class="pagenum" name="Page_210" title="210"> </a>&ldquo;H'm! what can he mean? I suppose he explains a little
+further on,&rdquo; mused Mr. Arden.</p>
+
+<blockquote>
+<p>&ldquo;He is, in short, a practitioner about whom suspicions of an infamous
+kind have prevailed. One branch of his business, a rather strange
+one, has connected him with persons, more considerable in number than
+you would readily believe, who were, or are, political <ins title="refugees.">refugees.&rdquo;</ins></p>
+</blockquote>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Can this noble baron be a distiller of poisons?&rdquo; David
+Arden ruminated.</p>
+
+<blockquote>
+<p>&ldquo;In all his other equivocal doings, he found, on the few occasions
+that seemed to threaten danger, mysterious protectors, sufficiently powerful
+to bring him off scot-free. His relations of a political character were
+those which chiefly brought him under the secret notice of the police.
+It is believed that he has amassed a fortune, and it is certain that he is
+about to retire from business. I can much better explain to you, when
+I see you, the remarkable circumstances to which I have but <ins title="alluded,">alluded.</ins>
+I hope to be in town again, and to have the honour of waiting upon
+you, on Thursday, the 29th instant.&rdquo;</p>
+</blockquote>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Ay, that's the day he named at parting. What a punctual
+fellow that is!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<blockquote>
+<p>&ldquo;They appear to me to have a very distinct bearing upon some
+possible views of the case in which you are so justly interested. The
+Baron Vanboeren is reputed very wealthy, but he is by no means liberal
+in his dealings, and is said to be insatiably avaricious. This last quality
+may make him practicable<span style="white-space: nowrap;">&mdash;&mdash;</span>&rdquo;</p>
+</blockquote>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Yes, so it may,&rdquo; acquiesced Uncle David.</p>
+
+<blockquote>
+<p class="no-indent">&ldquo;so that disclosures of importance may be obtained, if he be approached
+in the proper manner. Lebas was connected, as a mechanic, with the
+dentistry department of his business. Mr. L<span style="white-space: nowrap;">&mdash;&mdash;</span> has been extremely
+kind to Lebas' widow and children, and has settled a small annuity
+upon her, and fifteen hundred francs each upon his children.&rdquo;</p>
+</blockquote>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Eh? Upon my life, that is very handsome&mdash;extremely handsome.
+It gives me rather new ideas of this man&mdash;that is, if
+there's nothing odd in it,&rdquo; said Mr. Arden.</p>
+
+<blockquote>
+<p>&ldquo;The deed by which he has done all this is, in its reciting part, an
+eccentric one. I waited, as I advised you in mine of the 12th, upon
+M. Arnaud, who is the legal man employed by Madame Lebas, for the
+purpose of handing him the ten napoleons which you were so good as to
+transmit for the use of his family; which sum he has, with many thanks
+on the part of Madame Lebas, declined, and which, therefore, I hold
+still to your credit. When explaining to me that lady's reasons for
+declining your remittance, he requested me to read a deed of gift from
+<a class="pagenum" name="Page_211" title="211"> </a>Mr. Longcluse, making the provisions I have before referred to, and
+reciting, as nearly in these words as I can remember:&mdash;&lsquo;Whereas I
+entertained for the deceased Pierre Lebas, in whose house in Paris I
+lodged when very young, for more than a year and a half, a very great
+respect and regard: and whereas I hold myself to have been the innocent
+cause of his having gone to the room, as appears from my evidence,
+in which, unhappily, he lost his life: and whereas I look upon it as a
+disgrace to our City of London that such a crime could have been committed
+in a place of public resort, frequented as that was at the time,
+without either interruption or detection; and whereas, so regarding it,
+I think that such citizens as could well afford to subscribe money, adequately
+to compensate the family of the deceased for the pecuniary loss
+which both his widow and children have sustained by reason of his
+death, were bound to do so; his visit to London having been strictly a
+commercial one; and all persons connected with the trade of London
+being more or less interested in the safety of the commercial intercourse
+between the two countries: and whereas the citizens of London have
+failed, although applied to for the purpose, to make any such compensation;
+now this deed witnesseth,&rsquo; etc.&rdquo;</p>
+</blockquote>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Well, in all that, I certainly go with him. We Londoners
+ought to be ashamed of ourselves.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<blockquote>
+<p>&ldquo;The widow has taken her children to Avranches, her native place,
+where she means to live. Please direct me whether I shall proceed
+thither, and also upon what particular points you would wish me to
+interrogate her. I have learned, this moment, that the Baron Vanboeren
+retires in October next. It is thought that he will fix his residence after
+that at Berlin. My informant undertakes to advise me of his address,
+whenever it is absolutely settled. In approaching this baron, it is
+thought you will have to exercise caution and dexterity, as he has the
+reputation of being cunning and unscrupulous.&rdquo;</p>
+</blockquote>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I'm not good at dealing with such people&mdash;I never was. I
+must engage some long-headed fellow who understands them,&rdquo;
+said he.</p>
+
+<blockquote>
+<p>&ldquo;I debit myself with two thousand five hundred francs, the amount
+of your remittance on the 15th inst., for which I will account at sight.&mdash;I
+remain, dear and honoured Sir, your attached and most obedient
+servant,</p>
+
+<p class="right small-caps">&ldquo;Christopher Blount.&rdquo;</p>
+</blockquote>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I shall learn all he knows in a few days. What is it that
+deprives me of quiet till a clue be found to the discovery of
+Yelland Mace? And why is it that the fancy has seized me that
+Mr. Longcluse knows where that villain may be found? He
+admitted, in talking to Alice, she says, that he had seen him in
+his young days. I will pick up all the facts, and then consider
+<a class="pagenum" name="Page_212" title="212"> </a>
+well all that they may point to. Let us but get the letters together,
+and in time we may find out what they spell. Here am
+I, a rich but sad old bachelor, having missed for ever the best
+hope of my life. Poor Harry long dead, and but one branch of
+the old tree with fruit upon it&mdash;Reginald, with his two children:
+Richard, my nephew&mdash;Richard Arden, in a few years the sole
+representative of the whole family of Arden, and he such a
+scamp and fool! If a childless old fellow could care for such
+things, it would be enough to break my heart. And poor little
+Alice! So affectionate and so beautiful, left, as she will be,
+alone, with such a protector as that fellow! I pity her.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>At that moment her unopened note caught his eye, as it lay
+on the table. He opened it, and read these words:&mdash;</p>
+
+<blockquote>
+<p class="small-caps">&ldquo;My dearest Uncle David,</p>
+
+<p class="larger-indent">&ldquo;I am so miserable and perplexed, and so utterly without
+any one to befriend or advise me in my present unexpected trouble, that
+I must implore of you to come to Mortlake, if you can, the moment this
+note reaches you. I know how unreasonable and selfish this urgent
+request will appear. But when I shall have told you all that has happened,
+you will say, I know, that I could not have avoided imploring
+your aid. Therefore, I entreat, distracted creature as I am, that you,
+my beloved uncle, will come to aid and counsel me; and believe me
+when I assure you that I am in extreme distress, and without, at this
+moment, any other friend to help me.&mdash;Your very unhappy niece,</p>
+
+<p class="right small-caps">&ldquo;Alice.&rdquo;</p>
+</blockquote>
+
+<p>He read this short note over again.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;No; it is not a sick lap-dog, or a saucy maid: there is some
+real trouble. Alice has, I think, more sense&mdash;I'll go at once.
+Reginald is always late, and I shall find them&rdquo; (he looked at
+his watch)&mdash;&ldquo;yes, I shall find them still up at Mortlake.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>So instantly he sent for a cab, and pulled on again a pair of
+boots, instead of the slippers he had donned, and before five
+minutes was driving at a rapid pace towards Mortlake.</p>
+
+<div class="image-center chapter-end">
+<img src="images/ep43.png" width="223" height="51" alt=""/>
+</div>
+
+<div class="image-center chapter-beginning"><a class="pagenum" name="Page_213" title="213"> </a>
+<img src="images/ch24.png" width="466" height="100" alt=""/>
+</div>
+
+<h2 class="no-break">CHAPTER XLIV.<br/>
+<small>THE REASON OF ALICE'S NOTE.</small></h2>
+
+<div><img class="drop-cap" src="images/drop_t.png" width="72" height="72" alt=""/></div>
+
+<p class="drop-cap"><span class="upper-case">The</span> long drive to Mortlake was expedited by promises
+to the cabman; for, in this acquisitive world, nothing
+for nothing is the ruling law of reciprocity. It was
+about half-past eleven o'clock when they reached the
+gate of the avenue; it was a still night, and a segment of the
+moon was high in the sky, faintly silvering the old fluted piers
+and urns, and the edges of the gigantic trees that overhung
+them. They were now driving up the avenue. How odd was
+the transition from the glare and hurly-burly of the town to the
+shadowy and silent woodlands on which this imperfect light fell
+so picturesquely.</p>
+
+<p>There were associations enough to induce melancholy as he
+drove through those neglected scenes, his playground in boyish
+days, where he, and Harry whom he loved, had passed so many
+of the happy days that precede school. He could hear his
+laugh floating still among the boughs of the familiar trees, he
+could see his handsome face smiling down through the leaves
+of the lordly chestnut that stood, at that moment, by the point
+of the avenue they were passing, like a forsaken old friend overlooking
+the way without a stir.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I'll follow this clue to the end,&rdquo; said David Arden. &ldquo;I
+sha'n't make much of it, I fear; but if it ends, as others in the
+same inquiry have, in smoke, I shall, at least, have done my
+utmost, and may abandon the task with a good grace, and conclude
+that Heaven declines to favour the pursuit. Taken for
+all-in-all, he was the best of his generation, and the fittest to
+head the house. Something, I thought, was due, in mere
+respect to his memory. The coldness of Reginald insulted me.
+If a favourite dog had been poisoned, he would have made
+<a class="pagenum" name="Page_214" title="214"> </a>
+more exertion to commit the culprit. And once in pursuit of
+this dark shadow, how intense and direful grew the interest of
+the chase, and<span style="white-space: nowrap;">&mdash;&mdash;</span> Here we are at the <ins title="hall-door">hall-door.</ins> Don't
+mind knocking, ring the bell,&rdquo; he said to the driver.</p>
+
+<p>He was himself at the threshold before the door was opened.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Can I see my brother?&rdquo; he asked.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Sir Reginald is in the drawing-room&mdash;a small dinner-party
+to-day, Sir&mdash;Lady May Penrose, and Lady Mary Maypol, they
+returned to town in Lady May Penrose's carriage, Lord
+Wynderbroke remains, Sir, and two gentlemen; they are at
+present with Sir Reginald in the smoking-room.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>He learned that Miss Arden was alone in the small sitting-room,
+called the card-room. David Arden had walked through
+the vestibule, and into the capacious hall. The lights were all
+out, but one.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Well, I sha'n't disturb him. Is Miss Alice<span style="white-space: nowrap;">&mdash;&mdash;</span>&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Yes, Alice is here. It is so kind of you to come!&rdquo; said a
+voice he well knew. &ldquo;Here I am! Won't you come up to the
+drawing-room, Uncle David?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;So you want to consult Uncle David,&rdquo; he said, entering the
+room, and looking round. &ldquo;In my father's time the other
+drawing-rooms used to be open; it is a handsome suite&mdash;very
+pretty rooms. But I think you have been crying, my poor little
+Alice. What on earth is all this about, my dear! Here I am,
+and it is past eleven; so we must come to the point, if I am to
+hear it to-night. What is the matter?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;My dear uncle, I have been so miserable!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Well, what is it?&rdquo; he said, taking a chair; &ldquo;you have
+refused some fellow you like, or accepted some fellow you don't
+like. I am sure you are at the bottom of your own misery,
+foolish little creature! Girls generally are, I think, the
+architects of their own penitentiaries. Sit there, my dear, and
+if it is anything I can be of the least use in, you may count on
+my doing my utmost. Only you must tell me the whole case,
+and you mustn't colour it a bit.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>So they sat down on a sofa, and Miss Alice told him in her
+own way that, to her amazement, that day Lord Wynderbroke
+had made something very like a confession of his passion, and
+an offer of his hand, which this unsophisticated young lady was
+on the point of repelling, when Lady May entered the room,
+accompanied by her friend, Lady Mary Maypol; and, of course,
+the interesting situation, for that time, dissolved. About an
+hour after, Alice, who was shocked at the sudden distinction of
+which she had become the object, and extremely vexed at the
+interruption which had compelled her to suspend her reply, and
+very anxious for an opportunity to answer with decision, found
+that opportunity in a little saunter which she and the two ladies
+<a class="pagenum" name="Page_215" title="215"> </a>
+took in the grounds, accompanied by Lord Wynderbroke and
+Sir Reginald.</p>
+
+<p>When the opportunity came, with a common inconsistency,
+she rather shrank from the crisis; and a slight uncertainty as
+to the actual meaning of the noble lord, rendered her perplexity
+still more disagreeable. It occurred thus: the party had
+walked some little distance, and when Alice was addressed by
+her father&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Here is Wynderbroke, who says he has never seen my
+Roman inscription! You, Alice, must do the honours, for I
+daren't yet venture on the grass,&rdquo;&mdash;he shrugged and shook his
+head over his foot&mdash;&ldquo;and I will take charge of Lady Mary and
+Lady May, who want to see the Derbyshire thistles&mdash;they have
+grown so enormous under my gardener's care. You said, May,
+the other evening, that you would like to see them.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Lady May acquiesced with true feminine sympathy with the
+baronet's stratagem, notwithstanding an imploring glance
+from Alice! and Lady Mary Maypol, exchanging a glance
+with Lady May, expressed equal interest in the Derbyshire
+thistles.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You will find the inscription at the door of the grotto, only
+twenty steps from this; it was dug up when my grandfather
+made the round pond, with the fountain in it. You'll find us in
+the garden.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Lord Wynderbroke beamed an insufferable smile on Alice,
+and said something pretty that she did not hear. She knew
+perfectly what was coming, and although resolved, she was yet
+in a state of extreme confusion.</p>
+
+<p>Lord Wynderbroke was talking all the way as they
+approached the grotto; but not one word of his harmonious
+periods did she clearly hear. By the time they reached the
+little rocky arch under the evergreens, through the leaves of
+which the marble tablet and Roman inscription were visible, they
+had each totally forgotten the antiquarian object with which they
+had set out.</p>
+
+<p>Lord Wynderbroke came to a standstill, and then with a
+smiling precision and distinctness, and in accents that seemed,
+<ins title="somehow">somehow,</ins> to ring through her head, he made a very explicit declaration
+and proposal; and during the entire delivery of this
+performance, which was neat and lucid rather than impassioned,
+she remained tongue-tied, listening as if to a tale told in a
+dream.</p>
+
+<p>She withdrew her hand hastily from Lord Wynderbroke's
+tender pressure, and the young lady with a sudden effort, replied
+collectedly enough, in a way greatly to amaze Lord Wynderbroke.</p>
+
+<p>When she had done, that nobleman was silent for some time,
+<a class="pagenum" name="Page_216" title="216"> </a>
+and stood in the same attitude of attention with which he had
+heard her. With a heightened colour he cleared his voice, and
+his answer, when it came, was dry and pettish. He thought
+with great deference, that he was, perhaps entitled to a little
+consideration, and it appeared to him that he had quite unaccountably
+misunderstood what had seemed the very distinct
+language of Sir Reginald. For the present he had no more to say.
+He hoped to explain more satisfactorily to Miss Arden, after he
+had himself had a few words of explanation, to which he thought
+he had a claim, from Sir Reginald; and he must confess that,
+after the lengths to which he had been induced to proceed, he
+was quite taken by surprise, and inexpressibly wounded by the
+tone which Miss Arden had adopted.</p>
+
+<p>Side by side, at a somewhat quick pace, Miss Arden with a
+heightened colour, and Lord Wynderbroke with his ears tingling,
+rejoined their friends.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Well, my dear child,&rdquo; said Uncle David, with a laugh, &ldquo;if
+you have nothing worse to complain of, though I am very glad
+to see you, I think we might have put off our meeting till daylight.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Oh! but you have not heard half what has happened. He
+has behaved in the most cowardly, treacherous, ungentlemanlike
+way,&rdquo; she continued vehemently. &ldquo;Papa sent for me, and I
+never saw him so angry in my life. Lord Wynderbroke has
+been making his unmanly complaints to him, and papa spoke
+so violently. And <em>he</em>, instead of going away, having had from
+me the answer which nothing on earth shall ever induce me to
+change, <em>he</em> remains here; and actually had the audacity to tell
+me, very nearly in so many words, that my decision went for
+nothing. I spoke to him quite frankly, but said nothing that
+was at all rude&mdash;nothing that could have made him the least
+angry. I implored of him to believe me that I never could change
+my mind; and I could not help crying, I was so agitated and
+wretched. But he seemed very much vexed, and simply said
+that he placed himself entirely in papa's hands. In fact, I've
+been utterly miserable and terrified, and I do not know how I
+can endure those terrible scenes with papa. The whole thing
+has come upon me so suddenly. Could you have imagined any
+gentleman capable of acting like Lord Wynderbroke&mdash;so selfish,
+cruel, and dastardly?&rdquo; and with these words she burst into
+tears.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Do you mean to say that he won't take your refusal?&rdquo; said
+her uncle, looking very angry.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;That is what he says,&rdquo; she sobbed. &ldquo;He had an opportunity
+only for a few words, and that was the purport of them; and I
+was so astounded, I could not reply; and, instead of going
+away, he remains here. Papa and he have arranged to prolong
+<a class="pagenum" name="Page_217" title="217"> </a>
+his visit; so I shall be teased and frightened, and I am so
+nervous and agitated; and it is such an outrage!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Now, we must not lose our heads, my dear child; we must
+consult calmly. It seems you don't think it possible that you
+may come to like Lord Wynderbroke sufficiently to marry
+him.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I would rather <em>die</em>! If this goes on, I sha'n't stay here. I'd
+go and be a governess rather.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I think you might give my house a trial first,&rdquo; said Uncle
+David merrily; &ldquo;but it is time to talk about that by-and-by.
+What does May Penrose think of it? She sometimes, I believe,
+on an emergency, lights on a sensible suggestion.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;She had to return to town with Lady Mary, who dined here
+also; I did not know she was going until a few minutes before
+they left. I've been so <em>miserably</em> unlucky! and I could not
+make an opportunity without its seeming so rude to Lady Mary,
+and I don't know her well enough to tell her; and, you have no
+idea, papa is so incensed, and so peremptory; and what <em>am</em> I
+to do? Oh! dear uncle, think of something. I know you'll
+help me.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;That I will,&rdquo; said the old gentleman. &ldquo;But allowances are
+to be made for a poor old devil so much in love as Lord
+Wynderbroke.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I don't think he likes me now&mdash;he can't like me,&rdquo; said Alice.
+&ldquo;But he is angry. It is simply pride and vanity. From something
+papa said, I am sure of it, Lord Wynderbroke has been
+telling his friends, and speaking, I fancy, as if everything was
+arranged, and he never anticipated that I could have any mind
+of my own; and I suppose he thinks he would be laughed at,
+and so I am to undergo a persecution, and he won't hear of
+anything but what he pleases; and papa is determined to
+accomplish it. And, oh! what <em>am</em> I to do?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I'll tell you, but you must do exactly as I bid you. Who's
+there?&rdquo; he said suddenly, as Alice's maid opened the door.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Oh! I beg pardon&mdash;Miss Alice, please,&rdquo; she said, dropping
+a curtsey and drawing back.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Don't go,&rdquo; said Uncle David, &ldquo;we shall want you. What's
+the matter?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Sir Reginald has been took bad with his foot again, please,
+Miss.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Nothing serious?&rdquo; said Uncle David.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Only pain, please, Sir, in the same place.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;All the better it should fix itself well in his foot. You
+need not be uneasy about it, Alice. You and your maid must
+be in my cab, which is at the hall door, in five minutes. Take
+leave of no one, and don't waste time over finery; just put a
+few things up, and take your dressing-case; and you and your
+<a class="pagenum" name="Page_218" title="218"> </a>
+maid are coming to town with me. Is my brother in the
+drawing-room?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;No, Sir, please; he is in his own room.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Are the gentlemen who dined still here?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Two left, Sir, when Sir Reginald took ill; but Lord
+Wynderbroke remains.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Oh! and where is he?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Sir Reginald sent for him, please, Sir&mdash;just as I came up&mdash;to
+his room.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Very good, then I shall find them both together. Now,
+Alice, I must find you and your maid in the cab in five minutes.
+I shall get your leave from Reginald, and you order the fellow
+to drive down to the little church gate in the village close by,
+and I'll walk after and join you there in a few minutes. Lose
+no time.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>With this parting charge, Uncle David ran down the stairs,
+and met Lord Wynderbroke at the foot of them, returning from
+his visit of charity to Sir Reginald's room.</p>
+
+<div class="image-center chapter-end">
+<img src="images/ep04.png" width="232" height="128" alt=""/>
+</div>
+
+<div class="image-center chapter-beginning"><a class="pagenum" name="Page_219" title="219"> </a>
+<img src="images/ch26.png" width="444" height="86" alt=""/>
+</div>
+
+<h2 class="no-break">CHAPTER XLV.<br/>
+<small>COLLISION.</small></h2>
+
+<div><img class="drop-cap" src="images/drop_l.png" width="70" height="72" alt=""/></div>
+
+<p class="drop-cap"><span class="upper-case">&ldquo;Lord Wynderbroke!&rdquo;</span> said Uncle David,
+and bowed rather ceremoniously.</p>
+
+<p>Lord Wynderbroke, a little surprised, extended
+two fingers and said, &ldquo;How d'ye do, Mr.
+Arden?&rdquo; and smiled drily, and then seemed disposed to pass
+on.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I beg your pardon, Lord Wynderbroke,&rdquo; said David Arden,
+&ldquo;but would you mind giving me a few minutes? I have something
+you may think a little important to say, and if you will
+allow me, I'll say it in this room&rdquo;&mdash;he indicated the half-open
+door of the dining-room, in which there was still some light&mdash;&ldquo;I
+shall not detain you long.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>The urbane and smiling peer looked on him for a moment&mdash;rather
+darkly&mdash;with a shrewd eye; and he said, still smiling,&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Certainly, Mr. Arden; but at this hour, and being about to
+write a note, you will see that I have very little time indeed&mdash;I'm
+very sorry.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>He was speaking stiffly, and any one might have seen that he
+suspected nothing very agreeable as the result of Mr. Arden's
+communication.</p>
+
+<p>When they had got into the dining-room, and the door was
+closed, Lord Wynderbroke, with his head a little high, invited
+Mr. Arden to proceed.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Then, as you are in a hurry, you'll excuse my going direct
+to the point. I've come here in consequence of a note that
+reached me about an hour ago, informing me that my niece,
+Alice Arden, has suffered a great deal of annoyance. You
+know, of course, to what I refer?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I should extremely regret that the young lady, your niece,
+should suffer the least vexation, from any cause; but I should
+<a class="pagenum" name="Page_220" title="220"> </a>
+have fancied that her happiness might be more naturally confided
+to the keeping of her father, than of a relation residing in
+a different house, and by no means so nearly interested in consulting
+it.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I see, Lord Wynderbroke, that I must address you very
+plainly, and even coarsely. My brother Reginald does not consult
+her happiness in this matter, but merely his own ideas of a
+desirable family connection. She is really quite miserable; she
+has unalterably made up her mind. You'll not induce her to
+change it. There is no chance of that. But by permitting my
+brother to exercise a pressure in favour of your suit<span style="white-space: nowrap;">&mdash;&mdash;</span>&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You'll excuse my interrupting for a moment, to say that
+there is, and can be, nothing but the perfectly legitimate
+influence of a parent. <em>Pressure</em>, there is none&mdash;none in the
+world, Sir; although I am not, like you, Mr. Arden, a relation&mdash;and
+a very near one&mdash;of Sir Reginald Arden's, I think I can
+undertake to say that he is quite incapable of exercising what
+you call a pressure upon the young lady his daughter; and I
+have to beg that you will be so good as to spare me the pain of
+hearing that term employed, as you have just now employed it&mdash;or
+<em>at all</em>, Sir, in connection with me. I take the liberty of
+insisting upon that, <em>peremptorily</em>.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Arden bowed, and went on:</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;And when the young lady distinctly declines the honour you
+propose, you persist in paying your addresses, as though her
+answer meant just nothing.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I don't quite know, Sir, why I've listened so long to this kind
+of thing from you; you have no right on earth, Sir, to address
+that sort of thing to me. How dare you talk to me, Sir, in that&mdash;a&mdash;a&mdash;audacious
+tone upon my private affairs and conduct?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Uncle David was a little fiery, and answered, holding his
+head high,&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;What I have to say is short and clear. I don't care
+twopence about your affairs, or your conduct, but I do very
+much care about my niece's happiness; and if you any longer
+decline to take the answer she has given you, and continue to
+cause her the slightest trouble, I'll make it a personal matter with
+you. Good-<em>night</em>!&rdquo; he added, with an inflamed visage, and a
+stamp on the floor, thundering his valediction. And forth he
+went to pay his brief visit to his brother&mdash;not caring twopence,
+as he said, what Lord Wynderbroke thought of him.</p>
+
+<p>Sir Reginald had got into his dressing-gown. He was not
+now in any pain to speak of, and expressed great surprise at the
+sudden appearance of his brother.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You'll take something, won't you?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Nothing, thanks,&rdquo; answered David. &ldquo;I came to beg a
+favour.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p><a class="pagenum" name="Page_221" title="221"> </a>&ldquo;Oh! did you? You find me very poorly,&rdquo; said the baronet,
+in a tone that seemed to imply, &ldquo;You might easily kill me, by
+imposing the least trouble just now.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You'll be all the better, Reginald, for this little attack; it is
+so comfortably established in your foot.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Comfortably! I wish you felt it,&rdquo; said Sir Reginald,
+sharply; &ldquo;and it's confoundedly late. Why didn't you come
+to dinner?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>David laughed good-humouredly.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You forgot, I think, to ask me,&rdquo; said he.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Well, well, you know there is always a chair and a glass
+for you; but won't it do to talk about any cursed thing you wish
+to-morrow? I&mdash;I never, by any chance, hear anything agreeable.
+I have been tortured out of my wits and senses all day
+long by a tissue of pig-headed, indescribable frenzy. I vow to
+Heaven there's a conspiracy to drive me into a mad-house, or
+into my grave; and I declare to my Maker, I wish the first
+time I'm asleep, some fellow would come in and blow my
+brains out on the pillow.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I don't know an easier death,&rdquo; said David; and his brother,
+who meant it to be terrific, did not pretend to hear him. &ldquo;I
+have only a word to say,&rdquo; he continued, &ldquo;a request you have
+never refused to other friends, and, in fact, dear Reginald, I
+ventured to take it for granted you would not refuse me; so I
+have taken Alice into town, to make me a little visit of a day
+or two.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You haven't taken Alice&mdash;you don't mean&mdash;she's not gone?&rdquo;
+exclaimed the baronet, sitting up with a sudden perpendicularity,
+and staring at his brother as if his eyes were about to leap
+from their sockets.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I'll take the best care of her. Yes, she <em>is</em> gone,&rdquo; said
+David.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;But my dear, excellent, worthy&mdash;why, curse you, David, you
+can't possibly have done anything so clumsy! Why, you forgot
+that Wynderbroke is here; how on earth am I to entertain
+Wynderbroke without her?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Why, it is exactly because Lord Wynderbroke is here, that
+I thought it the best time for her to make me a visit.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I protest to Heaven, David, I believe you're deranged! Do
+you the least know what you are saying?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Perfectly. Now, my dear Reginald, let us look at the
+matter quietly. The girl does not like him; she would not
+marry him, and never will; she has grown to hate him; his
+own conduct has made her despise and detest him; and she's
+not the kind of girl who would marry for a mere title. She has
+unalterably made up her mind; and these are not times when
+you can lock a young lady into her room, and starve her into
+<a class="pagenum" name="Page_222" title="222"> </a>
+compliance; and Alice is a spirited girl&mdash;all the women of our
+family were. You're no goose like Wynderbroke&mdash;you only need
+to know that the girl has quite made up her mind, or her heart,
+or her hatred, or whatever it is, and she won't marry him. It
+is as well he should know it at first, as at last; and I don't
+think, if he were a gentleman, peer though he be, he would
+have been in this house to-night. He counted on his title: he
+was too sure. I am very proud of Alice. And now he can't
+bear the mortification&mdash;having, like a fool, disclosed his suit to
+others before it had succeeded&mdash;of letting the world know he has
+been refused; and to this petty vanity he would sacrifice Alice,
+and prevail on you, if he could, to bully her into accepting him,
+a plan in which, if he perseveres, I have told him he shall,
+besides failing ridiculously, give me a meeting; for I will make
+it a personal quarrel with him.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Sir Reginald sat in his chair, looking very white and wicked,
+with his eyes gleaming fire on his brother. He opened his
+mouth once or twice, to speak, but only drew a short breath at
+each attempt.</p>
+
+<p>David Arden rather wondered that his brother took all this so
+quietly. If he had observed him a little more closely, he would
+have seen that his hands were trembling, and perceived also
+that he had tried repeatedly to speak, and that either voice or
+articulation failed him. On a sudden he recovered, and regardless
+of his gout started to his feet, and limped along the floor,
+exclaiming,&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Help us&mdash;help us&mdash;God help us! What's this? My&mdash;my&mdash;oh,
+my God! It's very bad!&rdquo; He was stumping round and
+round the table, near which he had sat, and restlessly shoving
+the pamphlets and books hither and thither as he went.
+&ldquo;What have I done to earn this curse?&mdash;was ever mortal so
+pursued? The last thing, this was; now all's gone&mdash;quite gone&mdash;it's
+over, quite. They've done it&mdash;they've done it. <i lang="it" xml:lang="it">Bravo!
+bravi tutti! brava!</i> All&mdash;all, and everything gone! To think
+of her&mdash;only to think of her! She was my pet.&rdquo; (And in his
+bleak, trembling voice, he cried a horrid curse at her.) &ldquo;I tell
+you,&rdquo; he screamed, dashing his hand on the table, at the <ins title="other">other end</ins>
+of which he had arrested his monotonous shuffle round it, when
+his brother caught suddenly his vacant eye, &ldquo;you think, because
+I'm down in the world, and you are prosperous, that you can do
+as you like. If I was where I should be, you daren't. I'll
+have her back, Sir. I'll have the police with you. I'll&mdash;I'll indict
+you&mdash;it's a police-office affair. They'll take her through the
+streets. Where's the wretch like her? I charge her&mdash;let them
+take her by the shoulder. And my son, Richard&mdash;to think of
+him!&mdash;the cursed puppy!&mdash;his <i lang="la" xml:lang="la">post obit</i>! One foot in the
+grave, have I? No, I'm not so near smoked out as you take
+<a class="pagenum" name="Page_223" title="223"> </a>
+me&mdash;I've a long time for it&mdash;I've a long life. I'll live to see
+him broken&mdash;without a coat to his back&mdash;you villanous,
+swindling dandy, and I'll<span style="white-space: nowrap;">&mdash;&mdash;</span>&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>His voice got husky, and he struck his thin fist on the table,
+and clung to it, and the room was suddenly silent.</p>
+
+<p>David Arden rang the bell violently, and got his arm round
+his brother, who shook himself feebly, and shrugged, as if he
+disdained and hated that support.</p>
+
+<p>In came Crozier, who looked aghast, but wheeled his easy-chair
+close to where he stood, and between them they got him
+into it, trembling from head to foot.</p>
+
+<p>Martha Tansey came in and lent her aid, and beckoning her
+to the door, David Arden asked her if she thought him very ill.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I 'a' seen him just so a dozen times over. He'll be well
+enough, soon, and if ye knew him as weel in they takins, ye'd
+ho'd wi' me, there's nothing more than common in't; he's a bit
+teathy and short-waisted, and always was, and that's how he
+works himself into them fits.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>So spoke Tansey, into whose talk, in moments of <ins title="excitement">excitement,</ins>
+returned something of her old north-country dialect.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Well, so he was, vexed with me, as with other people, and
+he has over-excited himself; but as he has this little gout
+about him, I may as well send out his doctor as I return.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>This little conversation took place outside Sir Reginald's
+room-door, which David did not care to re-enter, as his
+brother might have again become furious on seeing him. So
+he took his leave of Martha Tansey, and their whispered
+dialogue ended. One or two sighs and groans showed that
+Sir Reginald's energies were returning. David Arden walked
+quickly across the vast hall, in which now burned duskily but
+a single candle, and let himself out into the clear, cold night;
+and as he walked down the broad avenue he congratulated
+himself on having cut the Gordian knot, and liberated his
+niece.</p>
+
+<p>It was a pleasant walk by the narrow road, with its lofty
+groining of foliage, down to the village outpost of Islington,
+where, under the shadow of the old church-spire, he found his
+cab waiting, with Alice and her maid in it.</p>
+
+<div class="image-center chapter-beginning"><a class="pagenum" name="Page_224" title="224"> </a>
+<img src="images/ch03.png" width="472" height="107" alt=""/>
+</div>
+
+<h2 class="no-break">CHAPTER XLVI.<br/>
+<small>AN UNKNOWN FRIEND.</small></h2>
+
+<div><img class="drop-cap" src="images/drop_a.png" width="72" height="73" alt=""/></div>
+
+<p class="drop-cap"><span class="upper-case">As</span> they drove into town, Uncle David was thinking
+how awkward it would be if Sir Reginald should
+have recovered his activity, and dispatched a
+messenger to recall Alice, and await their arrival
+at his door. Well, he did not want a quarrel; he hated a
+fracas; but he would not send Alice back till next morning,
+come what might; and then he would return with her, and
+see Lord Wynderbroke again, and take measures to compel
+an immediate renunciation of his suit. As for Reginald, he
+would find arguments to reconcile him to the disappointment.
+At all events, Alice had thrown herself upon his protection,
+and he would not surrender her except on terms.</p>
+
+<p>Uncle David was silent, having all this matter to ruminate
+upon. He left a pencilled line for Sir Henry Margate, his
+brother's physician, and then drove on towards home.</p>
+
+<p>Turning into Saint James's Street, Alice saw her brother
+standing at the side of a crossing, with a great-coat and a
+white muffler on, the air being sharp. A couple of carriages
+drawn up near the pavement, and the passing of two or three
+others on the outside, for a moment checked their progress,
+and Alice, had not the window been up, could have spoken to
+him as they passed. He did not see them, but the light of a
+lamp was on his face, and she was shocked to see how ill he
+looked.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;There is Dick,&rdquo; she said, touching her uncle's arm, &ldquo;looking
+so miserable! Shall we speak to him!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;No, dear, never mind him&mdash;he's well enough.&rdquo; <ins title="David,">David</ins>
+Arden peeped at his nephew as they passed. &ldquo;He is beginning
+to take an interest in what really concerns him.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>She looked at her uncle, not understanding his meaning.</p>
+
+<p><a class="pagenum" name="Page_225" title="225"> </a>&ldquo;We can talk of it another time, dear,&rdquo; he added with a
+cautionary glance at the maid, who sat in the corner at the
+other side.</p>
+
+<p>Richard Arden was on his way to the place where he meant
+to recover his losses. He had been playing deep at Colonel
+Marston's lodgings, but not yet luckily. He thought he had
+used his credit there as far as he could successfully press it.</p>
+
+<p>The polite young men who had their supper there that
+night, and played after he left till nearly five o'clock in the
+morning, knew perfectly what he had lost at the Derby; but
+they did not know how perilously, on the whole, he was
+already involved. Was Richard Arden, who had lost nearly
+seven hundred pounds at Colonel Marston's little gathering,
+though he had not paid them yet, now quite desperate? By
+no means. It is true he had, while Vandeleur was out, made
+an excursion to the City, and, on rather hard terms, secured a
+loan of three hundred pounds&mdash;a trifle which, if luck favoured,
+might grow to a fortune; but which, if it proved contrary, half
+an hour would see out.</p>
+
+<p>He had locked this up in his desk, as a reserve for a theatre
+quite different from Marston's little party; and on his way to
+that more public and also more secret haunt, he had called at
+his lodgings for it. It was not that small deposit that cheered
+him, but a curious and unexpected little note which he found
+there. It presented by no means a gentlemanlike exterior.
+The hand was a round clerk's-hand, with flourishing capitals,
+on an oblong blue envelope, with a vulgar little device. A
+dun, he took it to be; and he was not immediately relieved
+when he read at the foot of it, &ldquo;Levi.&rdquo; Then he glanced to
+the top, and read, &ldquo;<span class="small-caps">Dear Sir</span>.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>This easy form of address he read with proper disdain.</p>
+
+<blockquote>
+<p class="larger-indent">&ldquo;I am instructed by a most respectable party who is desirous
+to assist you, to the figure of £1,000 or upwards, at nominal discounts,
+to meet you and ascertain your wishes thereupon, if possible to-night,
+lest you should suffer inconvenience.</p>
+
+<p class="right"><span style="margin-right: 3em;">&ldquo;Yours truly,</span><br/>
+&ldquo;<span class="small-caps">Israel Levi</span>.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;P.S.&mdash;In furtherance of the above, I shall be at Dignum's Divan,
+Strand, from 11&nbsp;<span class="small-caps all-upper">P.M.</span> to-night to 1&nbsp;<span class="small-caps all-upper">A.M.</span>&rdquo;</p>
+</blockquote>
+
+<p>Here then, at last, was a sail in sight!</p>
+
+<p>With this note in his pocket, he walked direct to the place of
+rendezvous, in the Strand. It was on his way that, unseen by
+him, his sister and his uncle had observed him, on their drive
+to David Arden's house.</p>
+
+<p><a class="pagenum" name="Page_226" title="226"> </a>There were two friends only whom he strongly suspected of
+this very well-timed interposition&mdash;there was Lady May
+Penrose, and there was Uncle David. Lady May was rich,
+and quite capable of a generous sacrifice for him. Uncle
+David, also rich, would like to show an intimidating front, as
+he had done, but would hardly like to see him go to the wall.
+There was, I must confess, a trifling bill due to Mr. Longcluse,
+who had kindly got or given him cash for it. It was something
+less than a hundred pounds&mdash;a mere nothing; but in
+their altered relations, it would not do to permit any miscarriage
+of this particular bill. He might have risked it in the
+frenzy of play. But to stoop to ask quarter from Longcluse
+was more than his pride could endure. No; nor would the
+humiliation avail to arrest the consequences of his neglect. In
+the general uneasiness and horror of his situation, this little
+point was itself a centre of torture, and now his unknown
+friend had come to the rescue, and in the golden sunshine
+of his promise it, like a hundred minor troubles, was dissolving.</p>
+
+<p>In Pall Mall he jumped into a cab, feeling strangely like
+himself again. The lights, the clubs, the well-known perspectives,
+the stars above him, and the gliding vehicles and
+figures that still peopled the streets, had recovered their old
+cheery look; he was again in the upper world, and his dream
+of misery had broken up and melted. Under the great
+coloured lamp, yellow, crimson, and blue, that overhung the
+pavement, emblazoned on every side with transparent
+arabesques, and in gorgeous capitals proclaiming to all whom
+it might concern &ldquo;<span class="small-caps">Dignum's Divan</span>,&rdquo; he dismissed his cab,
+took his counter in the cigar shop, and entered the great
+rooms beyond. The first of these, as many of my readers
+remember, was as large as a good-sized Methodist Chapel; and
+five billiard-tables, under a blaze of gas, kept the many-coloured
+balls rolling, and the marker busy, calling &ldquo;Blue on
+brown, and pink your player,&rdquo; and so forth; and gentlemen
+young and old, Christians and Hebrews, in their shirt-sleeves,
+picked up shillings when they took &ldquo;lives,&rdquo; or knocked the
+butts of their cues fiercely on the floor when they unexpectedly
+lost them.</p>
+
+<p>Among a very motley crowd, Richard Arden slowly sauntering
+through the room found Mr. Levi, whose appearance he
+already knew, having once or twice had occasion to consult
+him financially. His play was over for the night. The slim
+little Jew, with black curly head, large fierce black eyes,
+and sullen mouth, stood with his hands in his pockets,
+gaping luridly over the table where he had just, he observed
+to his friend Isaac Blumer, who did not care if he was
+<a class="pagenum" name="Page_227" title="227"> </a>
+hanged, &ldquo;losht sheven pound sheventeen, ash <ins title="I m">I'm</ins> a
+shinner!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Levi saw Richard Arden approaching, and smiled on him
+with his wide show of white fangs. Richard Arden approached
+Mr. Levi with a grave and haughty face. Here, to be sure,
+was nothing but what Horace Walpole used to call &ldquo;the
+mob.&rdquo; Not a human being whom he knew was in the room;
+still he would have preferred seeing Mr. Levi at his office;
+and the audacity of his presuming to grin in that familiar
+fashion! He would have liked to fling one of the billiard-balls
+in his teeth. In a freezing tone, and with his head high, he
+said,&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I think you are Mr. Levi.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;The shame,&rdquo; responded Levi, still smiling; &ldquo;and 'ow ish
+Mr. Harden thish evening?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I had a note from you,&rdquo; said Arden, passing by Mr. Levi's
+polite inquiry, &ldquo;and I should like to know if any of that
+money you spoke of may be made available to-night.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Every shtiver,&rdquo; replied the Jew cheerfully.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I can have it all? Well, this is rather a noisy place,&rdquo;
+hesitated Richard Arden, looking around him.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I can get into Mishter Dignum's book-offish here, Mr.
+Harden, and it won't take a moment. I haven't notes, but I'll
+give you our cheques, and there'sh no place in town they won't
+go down as slick as gold. I'll fetch you to where there's pen
+and ink.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Do so,&rdquo; said he.</p>
+
+<p>In a very small room, where burned a single jet of gas, <ins title="Mr. Mr.">Mr.</ins>
+Arden signed a promissory note for, £1,012&nbsp;10s., for which
+Mr. Levi handed him cheques of his firm for £1,000.</p>
+
+<p>Having exchanged these securities, Richard Arden said&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I wish to put one or two questions to you, Mr. Levi.&rdquo; He
+glanced at a clerk who was making &ldquo;tots&rdquo; from a huge folio
+before him, on a slip of paper, and transferring them to a small
+book, with great industry.</p>
+
+<p>Levi understood him and beckoned in silence, and when they
+both stood in the passage he said&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;If you want a word private with me, Mr. Harden, where
+there'sh no one can shee us, you'll be as private as the deshert
+of Harabia if you walk round the corner of the shtreet.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Arden nodded, and walked out into the Strand, accompanied
+by Mr. Levi. They turned to the left, and a few steps brought
+them to the corner of Cecil Street. The street widens a little
+after you pass its narrow entrance. It was still enough to justify
+Mr. Levi's sublime comparison. The moon shone mistily on
+the river, which was dotted and streaked, at its further edge
+with occasional red lights from windows, relieved by the black
+<a class="pagenum" name="Page_228" title="228"> </a>
+reflected outline of the building which made their back-ground.
+At the foot of the street, at that time, stood a clumsy rail, and
+Richard Arden leaned his arm on this, as he talked to the Jew,
+who had pulled his short cloak about him; and in the faint
+light he could not discern his features, near as he stood, except,
+now and then, his white eye-balls, faintly, as he turned, or his
+teeth when he smiled.</p>
+
+<div class="image-center chapter-end">
+<img src="images/ep01.png" width="216" height="112" alt=""/>
+</div>
+
+<div class="image-center chapter-beginning"><a class="pagenum" name="Page_229" title="229"> </a>
+<img src="images/ch09.png" width="464" height="77" alt=""/>
+</div>
+
+<h2 class="no-break">CHAPTER XLVII.<br/>
+<small>BY THE RIVER.</small></h2>
+
+<div><img class="drop-cap" src="images/drop_y.png" width="70" height="72" alt=""/></div>
+
+<p class="drop-cap drop-wide"><span class="upper-case">&ldquo;You</span> mentioned, Mr. Levi, in your note, that you
+were instructed, by some person who takes an interest
+in me, to open this business,&rdquo; said Richard
+Arden, in a more conciliatory tone. &ldquo;Will your
+instructions permit you to tell me who that person is?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;No, no,&rdquo; drawled Mr. Levi, with a slow shake of his head;
+&ldquo;I declare to you sholemnly, Mr. Harden, I couldn't. I'm
+employed by a third party, and though I may make a tolerable
+near guess who's firsht fiddle in the bishness, I can't shay
+nothin'.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Surely you can say this&mdash;it is hardly a question, I am so
+sure of it&mdash;is the friend who lends this money a gentleman?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I think the pershon as makesh the advanshe is a bit of a
+shwell. There, now, that'sh enough.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;But I said a <em>gentleman</em>,&rdquo; persisted Arden.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You mean to ask, hashn't a lady got nothing to do with it?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Well, suppose I do?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Levi shook his head slowly, and all his white teeth showed
+dimly, as he answered with an unctuous significance that tempted
+Arden strongly to pitch him into the river.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;We puts the ladiesh first; ladiesh and shentlemen, that's the
+way it goes at the theaytre; if a good-looking chap's a bit in a
+fix, there'sh no one like a lady to pull him through.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I really want to know,&rdquo; said Richard Arden, with difficulty
+restraining his fury. &ldquo;I have some relations who are likely
+enough to give me a lift of this kind; some <em>are</em> ladies, and
+some gentlemen, and I have a right to know to whom I owe this
+money.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;To our firm; who elshe? We have took your paper, and
+you have our cheques on Childs'.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p><a class="pagenum" name="Page_230" title="230"> </a>&ldquo;<em>Your</em> firm lend money at five per cent.!&rdquo; said Arden with
+contempt. &ldquo;You forget, Mr. Levi, you mentioned in your note,
+distinctly, that you act for another person. Who <em>is</em> that principal
+for whom you act?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I don't know.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Come, Mr. Levi! you are no simpleton; you may as well
+tell me&mdash;no one shall be a bit the wiser&mdash;for I <em>will</em> know.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Azh I'm a shinner&mdash;as I hope to be shaved<span style="white-space: nowrap;">&mdash;&mdash;</span>&rdquo; began
+Mr. Levi.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;It won't do&mdash;you may just as well tell me&mdash;out with it!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Well, here now; I <em>don't</em> know, but if I did, upon my shoul,
+I wouldn't tell you.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;It is pleasant to meet with so much sensitive honour, Mr.
+Levi,&rdquo; said Richard Arden very scornfully. &ldquo;I have nothing particular
+to say, only that your firm were mistaken, a little time
+ago, when they thought that I was without resources; I've
+friends, you now perceive, who only need to learn that I want
+money, to volunteer assistance. Have you anything more to
+say?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Richard Arden saw the little Jew's fine fangs again displayed
+in the faint light, as he thus spoke; but it was only prudent to
+keep his temper with this lucky intervenient.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I have nothing to shay, Mr. Harden, only there'sh more
+where that came from, and I may tell you sho, for that'sh no
+shecret. But don't you go too fasht, young gentleman&mdash;not that
+you won't get it&mdash;but don't you go too fasht.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;If I should ever ask your advice, it will be upon other things.
+I'm giving the lender as good security as I have given to any one
+else. I don't see any great wonder in the matter. Good-night,&rdquo;
+he said haughtily, not taking the trouble to look over his shoulder
+as he walked away.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Good-night,&rdquo; responded Mr. Levi, taking one of Dignum's
+cigars from his waistcoat-pocket, and preparing to light it with a
+lazy grin, as he watched the retreating figure lessening in the
+perspective of the street, &ldquo;and take care of yourshelf for my
+shake, <em>do</em>, and don't you be lettin' all them fine women be
+throwin' their fortunes like that into your 'at, and bringin' themshelves
+to the workus, for love of your pretty fashe&mdash;poor, dear,
+love-sick little fools! There you go, right off to Mallet and
+Turner's, I dareshay, and good luck attend you, for a reglar
+lady-killin', 'ansome, sweet-spoken, broken-down jackass!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>At this period of his valediction the vesuvian was applied to
+his cigar, and Richard Arden, turning the far corner of the street,
+escaped the remainder of his irony, as the Jew, with his hands
+in his pockets, sauntered up its quiet pavement, in the direction
+in which Richard Arden had just disappeared. It seemed to
+that young gentleman that his supplies, no less than thirteen
+<a class="pagenum" name="Page_231" title="231"> </a>
+hundred pounds, would all but command the luck of which, as
+his spirits rose, he began to feel confident. &ldquo;Fellows,&rdquo; he
+thought, &ldquo;who have gone in with less than fifty, have come out,
+to my knowledge, with thousands; and if less than fifty could
+do that, what might not be expected from thirteen hundred?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>He picked up a cab. Never did lover fly more impatiently to
+the feet of his mistress than Richard Arden did, that night, to
+the shrine of the goddess whom he worshipped.</p>
+
+<p>The muttered scoffs, the dark fiery gaze, the glimmering teeth
+of this mocking, malicious little Jew, represented an influence
+that followed Richard Arden that night.</p>
+
+<div class="image-center chapter-end">
+<img src="images/ep03.png" width="197" height="121" alt=""/>
+</div>
+
+<div class="image-center chapter-beginning"><a class="pagenum" name="Page_232" title="232"> </a>
+<img src="images/ch09.png" width="464" height="77" alt=""/>
+</div>
+
+<h2 class="no-break">CHAPTER <ins title="XLVIII">XLVIII.</ins><br/>
+<small>SUDDEN NEWS.</small></h2>
+
+<div><img class="drop-cap" src="images/drop_w.png" width="72" height="72" alt=""/></div>
+
+<p class="drop-cap drop-wide"><span class="upper-case">What</span> is luck? Is there such an influence? What type
+of mind rejects altogether, and consistently, this law
+or power? Call it by what name you will, fate or
+fortune, did not Napoleon, the man of death and of
+action, and did not Swedenborg, the man of quietude and visions,
+acknowledge it? Where is the successful gamester who does
+not &ldquo;back his luck,&rdquo; when once it has declared itself, and bow
+before the storms of fortune when they in turn have set in? I
+take Napoleon and Swedenborg&mdash;the man of this visible world,
+and the man of the invisible world&mdash;as the representatives of
+extreme types of mind. People who have looked into Swedenborg's
+works will remember curious passages on the subject, and
+find more dogmatical, and less metaphysical admissions in
+Napoleon's conversations everywhere.</p>
+
+<p>In corroboration of this theory, that luck is an element, with
+its floods and ebbs, against which it is fatuity to contend, was
+the result of Richard Arden's play.</p>
+
+<p>Before half-past two, he had lost every guinea of his treasure.
+He had been drinking champagne. He was flushed, dismal,
+profoundly angry. Hot and headachy, he was ready to choke
+with gall. There was a big, red-headed, vulgar fellow beside
+him, with a broad-brimmed white hat, who was stuffing his
+pockets and piling the table before him, as though he had found
+the secret of an &ldquo;open sesame,&rdquo; and was helping himself from
+the sacks of the Forty Thieves.</p>
+
+<p>When Richard had lost his last pound, he would have liked
+to smash the gas-lamps and windows, and the white hat and the
+red head in it, and roar the blasphemy that rose to his lips.
+But men can't afford to make themselves ridiculous, and as
+he turned about to make his unnoticed exit, he saw the little
+<a class="pagenum" name="Page_233" title="233"> </a>
+Jew, munching a sandwich, with a glass of champagne beside
+him.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I say,&rdquo; said Richard Arden, walking up to the little man,
+whose big mouth was full of sandwich, and whose fierce black
+eyes encountered his instantaneously, &ldquo;you don't happen to
+have a little more, on the same terms, about you?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Levi waited to bolt his sandwich, and then swallow down
+his champagne.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Shave me!&rdquo; exclaimed he, when this was done. &ldquo;The
+thoushand gone! every rag! and&rdquo; (glancing at his watch) &ldquo;only
+two twenty-five! Won't it be rayther young, though, backin'
+such a run o' bad luck, and throwin' good money after bad, Mr.
+Harden?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;That's my affair, I fancy; what I want to know is whether
+you have got a few hundreds more, on the same terms&mdash;I
+mean, from the same lender. Hang it, say yes or no&mdash;can't
+you?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Well, Mr. Harden, there's five hundred more&mdash;but 'twasn't
+expected you'd a' drew it so soon. How much do you say, Mr.
+Harden?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I'll take it all,&rdquo; said Richard Arden. &ldquo;I wish I could have
+it without these blackguards seeing.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;They don't care, blesh ye! if you got it from the old boy
+himself. That <em>is</em> a rum un!&rdquo; There were pen and ink on a
+small table beside the wall, at which Mr. Levi began rapidly to
+fill in the blanks of a bill of exchange. &ldquo;Why, there's not one
+o' them, almost, but takes a hundred now and then from me,
+when they runs out a bit too fast. You'd better shay one
+month.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Say two, like the other, and don't keep me waiting.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You'd better shay one&mdash;your friend will think you're going a
+bit too quick to the devil. Remember, as your proverb shays,
+'taint the thing to kill the gooshe that laysh the golden eggs&mdash;shay
+one month.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Levi's large black eye was fixed on him, and he added, &ldquo;If
+you want it pushed on a bit when it comes due, there won't be
+no great trouble about it, I calculate.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Richard Arden looked at the large fierce eyes that were
+silently fixed on him: one of those eyes winked solemnly and
+significantly.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Well, what way you like, only be quick,&rdquo; said Richard
+Arden.</p>
+
+<p>His new sheaf of cheques were quickly turned into counters;
+and, after various fluctuations, these counters followed the rest,
+and in the grey morning he left that haunt jaded and savage,
+with just fifteen pounds in his pocket, the wreck of the large
+sum which he had borrowed to restore his fortunes.</p>
+
+<p><a class="pagenum" name="Page_234" title="234"> </a>It needs some little time to enable a man, who has sustained
+such a shock as Richard Arden had, to collect his thoughts and
+define the magnitude of his calamity. He let himself in by a
+latch-key: the grey light was streaming through the shutters,
+and turning the chintz pattern of his window-curtains here and
+there, in streaks, into transparencies. He went into his room
+and swallowed nearly a tumbler of brandy, then threw off his
+clothes, drank some more, and fell into a flushed stupor, rather
+than a sleep, and lay for hours as still as any dead man on the
+field of battle.</p>
+
+<p>Some four hours of this lethargy, and he became conscious,
+at intervals, of a sound of footsteps in his room. The shutters
+were still closed. He thought he heard a voice say, &ldquo;Master
+Richard!&rdquo; but he was too drowsy, still, to rouse himself.</p>
+
+<p>At length a hand was laid upon him, and a voice that was
+familiar to his ear repeated twice over, more urgently, &ldquo;Master
+Richard! Master Richard!&rdquo; He was now awake: very dimly,
+by his bedside, he saw a figure standing. Again he heard the
+same words, and wondered, for a few seconds, where he was.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;That's Crozier talking,&rdquo; said Richard.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Yes, Sir,&rdquo; said Crozier, in a low tone; &ldquo;I'm here half-an-hour,
+Sir, waiting till you should wake.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Let in some light; I can't see you.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Crozier opened half the window-shutter, and drew the curtain.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Are ye ailin', Master Richard&mdash;are ye bad, Sir?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Ailing&mdash;yes, I'm bad enough, as you say&mdash;I'm miserable. I
+don't know where to turn or what to do. Hold my coat while I
+count what's in the pocket. If my father, the old scoundrel<span style="white-space: nowrap;">&mdash;&mdash;</span>&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Master Richard, don't ye say the like o' that no more; all's
+over, this morning, wi' the old master&mdash;Sir Reginald's dead, Sir,&rdquo;
+said the old follower, sternly.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Good God!&rdquo; cried Richard, starting up in his bed and
+staring at old Crozier with a frightened look.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Ay, Sir,&rdquo; said the old servant, in a low stern tone, &ldquo;he's
+gone at last: he was took just a quarter past five this mornin',
+by the clock at Mortlake, about four minutes before St. Paul's
+chimed the quarter. The wind being southerly, we heard the
+chimes. We thought he was all right, and I did not leave him
+until half-past twelve o'clock, having given him his drops, and
+waited till he went asleep. It was about three he rang his
+bell, and in I goes that minute, and finds him sitting up in his
+bed, talking quite silly-like about old Wainbridge, the groom,
+that's dead and buried, away in Skarkwynd Churchyard, these
+thirty year.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Crozier paused here. He had been crying hours ago, and
+his eyes and nose still showed evidences of that unbecoming
+<a class="pagenum" name="Page_235" title="235"> </a>
+weakness. Perhaps he expected Richard, now Sir Richard
+Arden, to say something, but nothing came.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;'Tis a change, Sir, and I feel a bit queer; and as I was
+sayin', when I went in, 'twas in his head he saw Tom Wainbridge
+leadin' a horse saddled and all into the room, and standin'
+by the side of his bed, with the bridle in his hand, and
+holdin' the stirrup for him to mount. &lsquo;And what the devil
+brings Wainbridge here, when he has his business to mind in
+Yorkshire? and where could he find a horse like that beast?
+He's waiting for me; I can hear the roarin' brute, and I see
+Tom's parchment face at the door&mdash;<em>there</em>,&rsquo; he'd say, &lsquo;and <em>there</em>&mdash;where
+are your eyes, Crozier, can't you see, man? Don't be
+afraid&mdash;can't you look&mdash;and don't you hear him? Wainbridge's
+old nonsense.&rsquo; And he'd laugh a bit to himself every
+now and again, and then he'd whimper to me, looking a bit
+frightened, &lsquo;Get him away, Crozier, will you? He's annoying
+me, he'll have me out,&rsquo; and this sort o' talk he went on wi' for
+full twenty minutes. I rang the bell to Mrs. Tansey's room,
+and when she was come we agreed to send in the brougham for
+the doctor. I think he was a bit wrong i' the garrets, and we
+were both afraid to let it be no longer.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Crozier paused for a moment, and shook his head.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;We thought he was goin' asleep, but he wasn't. His eyes
+was half shut, and his shoulders against the pillows, and Mrs.
+Tansey was drawin' the eider-down coverlet over his feet,
+softly, when all on a sudden&mdash;I thought he was laughin'&mdash;a
+noise like a little flyrin' laugh, and then a long, frightful
+yellock, that would make your heart tremble, and awa' wi' him
+into one o' them fits, and so from one into another, until when
+the doctor came he said he was in an apoplexy; and so, at just
+a quarter past five the auld master departed. And I came
+in to tell you, Sir; and have you any orders to give me,
+Master Richard? and I'm going on, I take it you'd wish me, to
+your uncle, Mr. David, and little Miss Alice, that han't heard
+nout o' the matter yet.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Yes, Crozier&mdash;go,&rdquo; said Richard Arden, staring on him as
+if his soul was in his eyes; and, after a pause, with an effort,
+he added&mdash;&ldquo;I'll call there as I go on to Mortlake; tell them I'll
+see them on my way.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>When Crozier was gone, Richard Arden got up, threw his
+dressing-gown about him, and sat on the side of his bed,
+feeling very faint. A sudden gush of tears relieved the
+strange paroxysm. Then come other emotions less unselfish.
+He dressed hastily. He was too much excited to make a
+breakfast. He drank a cup of coffee, and drove to Uncle
+David's house.</p>
+
+<div class="image-center chapter-beginning"><a class="pagenum" name="Page_236" title="236"> </a>
+<img src="images/ch06.png" width="442" height="85" alt=""/>
+</div>
+
+<h2 class="no-break">CHAPTER XLIX.<br/>
+<small>VOWS FOR THE FUTURE.</small></h2>
+
+<div><img class="drop-cap" src="images/drop_a.png" width="72" height="73" alt=""/></div>
+
+<p class="drop-cap"><span class="upper-case">As</span> he drove to his uncle's house, he was tumbling over
+facts and figures, in the endeavour to arrive at some
+conclusion as to how he stood in the balance-sheet
+that must now be worked out. What a thing that
+<i lang="la" xml:lang="la">post-obit</i> had turned out! Those cursed Jews who had dealt
+with him must have known ever so much more about his poor
+father's health than he did. They are such fellows to worm
+out the secrets of a family&mdash;all through one's own servants, and
+doctors, and apothecaries. The spies! They stick at nothing&mdash;such
+liars! How they pretended to wish to be off! What
+torture they kept him in! How they talked of the old man's
+nervous fibre, and pretended to think he would live for twenty
+years to come!</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;And the deed was not six weeks signed when I found out
+he had those epileptic fits, and they knew it, the wretches!&mdash;and
+so I've been hit for that huge sum of money. And there is
+interest, two years' nearly, on that other charge, and that
+swindle that half ruined me on the Derby. And there are
+those bills that Levi has got, but that is only fifteen hundred,
+and I can manage that any time, and a few other trifles.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>And he thought what yeoman's service Longcluse might and
+<em>would</em> have rendered him in this situation. How translucent
+the whole opaque complexity would have become in a hour or
+two, and at what easy interest he would have procured him
+funds to adjust these complications! But here, too, fortune
+had dealt maliciously. What a piece of cross-grained luck
+that Longcluse should have chosen to fall in love with Alice!
+And now they two had exchanged, not shots, but insults,
+harder to forgive. And that officious fool, Vandeleur, had laid
+him open to a more direct and humiliating affront than had
+<a class="pagenum" name="Page_237" title="237"> </a>
+before befallen him. Henceforward, between him and Longcluse
+no reconciliation was possible. Fiery and proud by
+nature was this Richard Arden, and resentful. In Yorkshire
+the family had been accounted a vindictive race. I don't
+know. I have only to do with those inheritors of the name
+who figure in this story.</p>
+
+<p>There remained an able accountant and influential man on
+'Change, on whose services he might implicitly reckon&mdash;his
+uncle, David Arden. But he was separated from him by the
+undefinable chasm of years&mdash;the want of sympathy, the sense
+of authority. He would take not only the management of this
+financial adjustment, but the carriage of the future of this
+young, handsome, full-blooded fellow, who had certainly no
+wish to take unto himself a Mentor.</p>
+
+<p>Here have been projected on this page, as in the disk of an
+oxy-hydrogen microscope, some of the small and active
+thoughts that swarmed almost unsuspected in Richard Arden's
+mind. But it would be injustice to Sir Richard Arden (we may
+as well let him enjoy at once the title which stately Death has
+just presented him with&mdash;it seems to me a mocking obeisance)
+to pretend that higher and kinder feelings had no place in his
+heart.</p>
+
+<p>Suddenly redeemed from ruin, suddenly shocked by an
+awful spectacle, a disturbance of old associations where there
+had once been kindness, where estrangements and enmity had
+succeeded: there was in all this something moving and
+agitating, that stirred his affections strangely when he saw his
+sister.</p>
+
+<p>David Arden had left his house an hour before the news
+reached its inmates. Sir Richard was shown to the drawing-room,
+where there was no one to receive him; and in a minute
+Alice, looking very pale and miserable, entered, and running up
+to him, without saying a word threw her arms about his neck,
+and sobbed piteously.</p>
+
+<p>Her brother was moved. He folded her to his heart.
+Broken and hurried words of tenderness and affection he
+spoke, as he kissed her again and again. Henceforward he
+would live a better and wiser life. He had tasted the dangers
+and miseries that attend on play. He swore he would give it
+up. He had done with the follies of his youth. But for years
+he had not had a home. He was thrown into the thick of
+temptation. A fellow who had no home was so likely to amuse
+himself with play; and he had suffered enough to make him
+hate it, and she should see what a brother he would be, henceforward,
+to her.</p>
+
+<p>Alice's heart was bursting with self-reproach; she told
+Richard the whole story of her trouble of the day before,
+<a class="pagenum" name="Page_238" title="238"> </a>
+and the circumstances of her departure from Mortlake, all
+in an agony of tears; and declared, as young ladies often
+have done before, that she never could be happy again.</p>
+
+<p>He was disappointed, but generous and gentle feelings had
+been stirred within him.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Don't reproach yourself, darling; that is mere folly. The
+entire responsibility of your leaving Mortlake belongs to my
+uncle; and about Wynderbroke, you must not torment yourself;
+you had a right to a voice in the matter, surely, and I
+daresay you would not be happier now if you had been less
+decided, and found yourself at this moment committed to
+marry him. I have more reason to upbraid myself, but I'm
+sure I was right, though I sometimes lost my temper; I know
+my Uncle David thinks I was right; but there is no use now
+in thinking more about it; right or wrong, it is all over,
+and I won't distract myself uselessly. I'll try to be a better
+brother to you than I ever <em>have</em> been; and I'll make
+Mortlake our head-quarters: or we'll live, if you like it
+better, at Arden Manor, or I'll go abroad with you. I'll lay
+myself out to make you happy. One thing I'm resolved on,
+and that is to give up play, and find some manly and useful
+pursuit; and you'll see I'll do you some credit yet, or at
+least, as a country squire, do some little good, and be not quite
+useless in my generation; and I'll do my best, dear Alice, to
+make you a happy home, and to be all that I ought to be to
+you, my darling.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Very affectionately he both spoke and felt, and left Alice
+with some of her anxieties lightened, and already more interest
+in the future than she had thought possible an hour before.</p>
+
+<p>Richard Arden had a good deal upon his hands that
+morning. He had money liabilities that were urgent. He
+had to catch his friend Mardykes at his lodgings, and get
+him to see the people in whose betting-books he stood for
+large figures, to represent to them what had happened, and
+assure them that a few days should see all settled. Then
+he had to go to the office of his father's attorney, and learn
+whether a will was forthcoming; then to consult with his
+own attorney, and finally to follow his uncle, David Arden,
+from place to place, and find him at last at home, and talk
+over details, and advise with him generally about many
+things, but particularly about the further dispositions respecting
+the funeral; for a little note from his Uncle David had offered
+to relieve him of the direction of those hateful details transacted
+with the undertaker, which every one is glad to depute.</p>
+
+<div class="image-center chapter-beginning"><a class="pagenum" name="Page_239" title="239"> </a>
+<img src="images/ch02.png" width="466" height="125" alt=""/>
+</div>
+
+<h2 class="no-break">CHAPTER L.<br/>
+<small>UNCLE DAVID'S SUSPICIONS.</small></h2>
+
+<div><img class="drop-cap" src="images/drop_m.png" width="72" height="73" alt=""/></div>
+
+<p class="drop-cap drop-wide"><span class="upper-case">Mr. David Arden</span>, therefore, had made a call at
+the office of Paller, Crapely, Plumes, and Co.,
+eminent undertakers in the most gentleman-like,
+and, indeed, aristocratic line of business, with
+immense resources at command, and who would undertake to
+bury a duke, with all the necessary draperies, properties, and
+<i lang="la" xml:lang="la">dramatis personæ</i>, if required, before his grace was cold in his
+bed.</p>
+
+<p>A little dialogue occurred here, which highly interested
+Uncle David. A stout gentleman, with a muddy and
+melancholy countenance, and a sad suavity of manner, and
+in the perennial mourning that belongs <ins title="to a">to</ins> gentlemen of his
+doleful profession, presents himself to David Arden, to receive
+his instructions respecting the deceased baronet's obsequies.
+The top of his head is bald, his face is furrowed and baggy;
+he looks fully sixty-five, and he announces himself as the junior
+partner, Plumes by name.</p>
+
+<p>Having made his suggestions and his notes, and taken his
+order for a strictly private funeral in the neighbourhood of
+London, Mr. Plumes thoughtfully observes that he remembers
+the name well, having been similarly employed for another
+member of the same family.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Ah! How was that? How long ago?&rdquo; asked Mr. Arden.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;About twenty years, Sir.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;And where was that funeral?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;The same place, Sir, Mortlake.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Yes, I know that was<span style="white-space: nowrap;">&mdash;&mdash;</span>?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;It was Mr. 'Enry, or rayther 'Arry Harden. We 'ad to take
+back the plate, Sir, and change 'Enry to 'Arry&mdash;'Arry being the
+<a class="pagenum" name="Page_240" title="240"> </a>
+name he was baptised by. There was a hinquest connected with
+that horder.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;So there was, Mr. Plumes,&rdquo; said Uncle David with awakened
+interest, for that gentleman spoke as if he had something more
+to say on the subject.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;There was, Sir,&mdash;and it affected me very sensibly. My
+niece, Sir, had a wery narrow escape.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Your niece! Really? How could that be?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;There was a Mister Yelland Mace, Sir, who paid his haddresses
+to her, and I do believe, Sir, she rayther liked him. I
+don't know, I'm sure, whether he was serious in 'is haddresses,
+but it looked very like as if he meant to speak; though I do
+suppose he was looking 'igher for a wife. Well, he was believed
+to 'ave 'ad an 'and in that 'orrible business.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I know&mdash;so he undoubtably had&mdash;and the poor young lady,
+I suppose, was greatly shocked and distressed.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Yes, Sir, and she died about a year after.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>David Arden expressed his regret, and then he asked&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You have often seen that man, Yelland Mace?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Not often, Sir.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You remember his face pretty well, I daresay?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Well, no, Sir, not very well. It is a long time.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Do you recollect whether there was anything noticeable in
+his features?&mdash;had he, for instance, a remarkably prominent
+nose?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I don't remember that he 'ad, Sir. I rather think not, but I
+can't by no means say for certain. It is a long time, and I
+'aven't much of a memory for faces. There is a likeness of him
+among my poor niece's letters.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Really? I should be so much obliged if you would allow me
+to see it.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;It is at 'ome, Sir, but I shall be 'ome to dinner before I go out
+to Mortlake; and, if you please, I shall borrow it of my sister,
+and take it with me.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>This offer David Arden gladly accepted.</p>
+
+<p>When the events were recent, he could have no difficulty in
+identifying Yelland Mace, by the evidence of fifty witnesses, if
+necessary. But it was another thing now. The lapse of time had
+made matters very different. It was recent impressions of a
+vague kind about Mr. Longcluse that had revived the idea, and
+prompted a renewal of the search. Martha Tansey was aged
+now, and he had misgivings about the accuracy of her recollection.
+Was it possible, after all, that he was about to see that
+which would corroborate his first vague <ins title="suspicions?&rdquo;">suspicions?</ins></p>
+
+<p>Sir Richard had a busy and rather harassing day, the first of
+his succession to an old title and a new authority, and he was
+not sorry when it closed. He had stolen about from place to
+<a class="pagenum" name="Page_241" title="241"> </a>
+place in a hired cab, and leaned back to avoid a chance
+recognition, like an absconding debtor; and had talked with the
+people whom he was obliged to call on and see, in low and
+hurried colloquy, through the window of the cab. And now
+night had fallen, the lamps were glaring, and tired enough he
+returned to his lodgings, sent for his tailor, and arranged promptly
+about the</p>
+
+<div class="poetry">
+<div class="stanza">
+<div class="line">&ldquo;<span style="white-space: nowrap;">&mdash;&mdash;</span>inky cloak, good mother,<br/></div>
+<div class="line indent1">And customary suits of solemn black;&rdquo;<br/></div>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<p class="no-indent">and that done, he wrote two or three notes to kindred in
+Yorkshire, with whom it behoved him to stand on good terms;
+and then he determined to drive out to Mortlake Hall. An
+unpleasant mixture of feelings was in his mind as he thought of
+that visit, and the cold tenant of the ancestral house, whom in
+the grim dignity of death, it would not have been seemly to leave
+for a whole day and night unvisited. It was to him a repulsive
+visit, but how could he postpone it?</p>
+
+<p>Behold him, then, leaning back in his cab, and driving through
+glaring lamps, and dingy shops, and narrow ill-thriven streets,
+eastward and northward; and now, through the little antique
+village, with trembling lights, and by the faded splendours of
+the &ldquo;Guy of Warwick.&rdquo; And he sat up and looked out of the
+windows, as they entered the narrow road that is darkened by the
+tall overhanging timber of Mortlake grounds.</p>
+
+<p>Now they are driving up the broad avenue, with its noble old
+trees clumped at either side; and with a shudder Sir Richard
+Arden leans back and moves no more until the cab pulls up at
+the door-steps, and the knock sounds through hall and passages,
+which he dared not so have disturbed, uninvited, a day or two
+before. Crozier ran down the steps to greet Master Richard.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;How are you, old Crozier?&rdquo; he said, shaking hands from the
+cab-window, for somehow he liked to postpone entering the
+house as long as he could. &ldquo;I could not come earlier. I have
+been detained in town all day by business, of various kinds,
+connected with this.&rdquo; And he moved his hand toward the
+open hall-door, with a gloomy nod or two. &ldquo;How is Martha?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Tolerable, Sir, thankye, considerin'. It's a great upset to
+her.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Yes, poor thing, of course. And has Mr. Paller been here&mdash;the
+person who is to&mdash;to<span style="white-space: nowrap;">&mdash;&mdash;</span>&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;The undertaker? Yes, Sir, he was here at two o'clock, and
+some of the people has been busy in the room, and his men has
+come out again with the coffin, Sir. I think they'll soon be
+leaving; they've been here a quarter of an hour, and&mdash;if I may
+make bold to ask, Sir,&mdash;what day will the funeral be?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p><a class="pagenum" name="Page_242" title="242"> </a>&ldquo;I don't know myself, Crozier; I must settle that with my
+uncle. He said he thought he would come here himself this
+evening, at about nine, and it must be very near that now. Where
+is Martha?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;In her room, Sir, I think.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I won't see her there. Ask her to come to the oak-room.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Richard got out and entered the house of which he was now
+the master, with an oppressive misgiving.</p>
+
+<p>The oak-parlour was a fine old room, and into the panels were
+<ins title="let">set</ins> four full-length portraits. Two of these were a lady and
+gentleman, in the costume of the beginning of Charles the
+Second's reign. The lady held an Italian greyhound by a blue
+ribbon, and the <ins title="gentlemen">gentleman</ins> stood booted for the field, and falcon
+on fist. It struck Richard, for the first time, how wonderfully
+like Alice that portrait of the beautiful lady was. He raised the
+candle to examine it. There was a story about this lady. She
+had been compelled to marry the companion portrait, with the
+hawk on his hand, and those beautiful lips had dropped a curse,
+in her despair, when she was dying, childless, and wild with
+grief. She prayed that no daughter of the house of Arden
+might ever wed the man of her love, and it was said that a
+fatality had pursued the ladies of that family, which looked like
+the accomplishment of the malediction; and a great deal of
+curious family lore was connected with this legend and
+portrait.</p>
+
+<p>As he held the candle up to this picture, still scanning its
+features, the door slowly opened, and Martha Tansey, arrayed
+in a black silk dress of a fashion some twenty years out of date,
+came in. He set down the candle, and took the old woman's
+hand, and greeted her very kindly.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;How's a' wi' you, Master Richard? A dowly house ye've
+come too. Ye didna look to see this sa soon?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Very sudden, Martha&mdash;awfully sudden. I could not let the
+day pass without coming out to see you.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Not me, Master Richard, but to ha'e a last look at the face
+of the father that begot ye. He'll be shrouded and coffined by
+this time&mdash;the light 'ill not be lang on that face. The lid will
+be aboon it and screwed down to-morrow, I dar' say. Ay, there
+goes the undertaker's men; and there's a man from Mr. Paller&mdash;Mr.
+Plumes is his name&mdash;that says he'll stay <ins title="still">till</ins> your Uncle David
+comes, for he told him he had something very particular to say
+to him; and I desired him to wait in my room after his business
+about the poor master was over; and the a'ad things is
+passin' awa' and it's time auld Martha was fittin' herself.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Don't say that, Martha, unless you would have me think
+you expect to find me less kind than my father was.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;There's good and there's bad in every one, Master Richard.
+<a class="pagenum" name="Page_243" title="243"> </a>
+Ye can't take it in meal and take it in malt. A bit short-waisted
+he was, there's no denyin', and a sharp word now and again;
+but none so hard to live wi' as many a one that was cooler-tempered,
+and more mealy-mouthed; and I think ye were o'er
+hard wi' him, Master Richard. Ye should have opened the
+estate. It was that killed him,&rdquo; she continued considerately.
+&ldquo;Ye broke his heart, Master Richard; he was never the same
+man after he fell out wi' you.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Some day, Martha, you'll learn all about it,&rdquo; said he gently.
+&ldquo;It was no fault of mine&mdash;ask my Uncle David. I'm not the
+person to persuade you; and, beside, I have not courage to talk
+over that cruel quarrel now.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Come and see him,&rdquo; said the old woman grimly, taking up
+the candle.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;No, Martha, no; set it down again&mdash;I'll not go.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;And when will you see him?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Another time&mdash;not now&mdash;I can't.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;He's laid in his coffin now; they'll be out again in the
+mornin'. If you don't see him now, ye'll never see him; and
+what will the folk down in Yorkshire say, when it's told at
+Arden Court that Master Richard never looked on his dead
+father's face, nor saw more of him after his flittin' than the
+plate on his coffin. By Jen! 'twill stir the blood o' the old
+tenants and gar them clench their fists and swear, I warrant,
+at the very sound o' yer name; for there never was an Arden
+died yet, at Arden Court, but he was waked, and treated wi'
+every respect, and visited by every living soul of his kindred, for
+ten mile round.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;If you think so, Martha, say no more. I'll&mdash;go as well now
+as another time&mdash;and, as you say, sooner or later it must be
+done.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<div class="image-center chapter-end">
+<img src="images/ep27.png" width="282" height="67" alt=""/>
+</div>
+
+<div class="image-center chapter-beginning"><a class="pagenum" name="Page_244" title="244"> </a>
+<img src="images/ch04.png" width="464" height="79" alt=""/>
+</div>
+
+<h2 class="no-break">CHAPTER LI.<br/>
+<small>THE SILHOUETTE.</small></h2>
+
+<div><img class="drop-cap" src="images/drop_h.png" width="73" height="73" alt=""/></div>
+
+<p class="drop-cap drop-wide"><span class="upper-case">&ldquo;He's</span> lookin' very nice and like himself,&rdquo; mumbled
+the old woman, as she led the way.</p>
+
+<p>At the open door of Sir Reginald's room stood
+Mr. Plumes, in professional black with a pensive
+and solemn countenance, intending politely to do the honours.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Thank you, Sir,&rdquo; said the old woman graciously, taking the
+lead in the proceedings. &ldquo;This is the young master, and he
+won't mind troublin' you, Mr. Plumes. If you please to go to my
+room, Sir, the third door on the right, you'll find tea made, Sir;
+and Mr. Crozier, I think, will be there.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>And having thus disposed of the stranger, they entered the
+room, in which candles were burning.</p>
+
+<p>Sir Reginald had, as it were, already made dispositions for
+his final journey. He had left his bed, and lay instead, in the
+handsomely upholstered coffin which stood on tressels beside it.
+Thin and fixed were the cold, earthly features that looked upward
+from their white trimmings. Sir Richard Arden checked his
+step and held his breath as he came in sight of these stern
+lineaments. The pale light that surrounds the dead face of the
+martyr was wanting here: in its stead, upon selfish lines and
+contracted features, a shadow stood.</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Tansey, with a feather-brush placed near, drove away
+a fly that was trying to alight on the still face.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I mind him when he was a boy,&rdquo; she said, with a groan and a
+shake of the head. &ldquo;There was but six years between us, and
+the life that's ended is but a dream, all like yesterday&mdash;nothing
+to look back on; and, I'm sure, if there's rest for them that has
+been troubled on earth, he's happy now: a blessed change 'twill
+be.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Yes, Martha, we all have our troubles.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p><a class="pagenum" name="Page_245" title="245"> </a>&ldquo;Ay, it's well to know that in time: the young seldom does,&rdquo;
+she answered sardonically.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I'll go, Martha. I'll return to the oak-room. I wish my
+uncle were come.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Well, you have took your last look, and that's but decent,
+and<span style="white-space: nowrap;">&mdash;&mdash;</span> Dear me, Master Richard, you do look bad!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I feel a little faint, Martha. I'll go there; and will you give
+me a glass of sherry?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>He waited at the room door, while Martha nimbly ran to her
+room, and returned with some sherry and a wine-glass. He
+had hardly taken a glass, and begun to feel himself better, when
+David Arden's step was heard approaching from the hall. He
+greeted his nephew and Martha in a hushed undertone, as he
+might in church; and then, as people will enter such rooms, he
+passed in and crossed with a very soft tread, and said a word or
+two in whispers. You would have thought that Sir Reginald
+was tasting the sweet slumber of precarious convalescence, so
+tremendously does death simulate sleep.</p>
+
+<p>When Uncle David followed his nephew to the oak-room,
+where the servants had now placed candles, he appeared a little
+paler, as a man might who had just witnessed an operation.
+He looked through the unclosed shutters on the dark scene;
+then he turned, and placed his hand kindly on his nephew's
+arm, and said he, with a sigh&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Well, Dick, you're the head of the house now; don't run
+the old ship on the rocks. Remember, it is an old name, and,
+above all, remember, that Alice is thrown upon your protection.
+Be a good brother, Dick. She is a true-hearted, affectionate
+creature: be you the same to her. You can't do your duty by
+her unless you do it also by yourself. For the first time in your
+life, a momentous responsibility devolves upon you. In God's
+name, Dick, give up play and do your duty!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I have learned a lesson, uncle; I have not suffered in vain.
+I'll never take a dice-box in my hand again; I'd as soon take a
+burning coal. I shall never back a horse again while I live. I
+am quite cured, thank God, of that madness. I sha'n't talk
+about it; let time declare how I am changed.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I am glad to hear you speak so. You are right, that is the
+true test. Spoken like a man!&rdquo; said Uncle David, and he
+took his hand very kindly.</p>
+
+<p>The entrance of Martha Tansey at this moment gave the talk
+a new turn.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;By-the-bye, Martha,&rdquo; said he, &ldquo;has Mr. Plumes come? He
+said he would be here at eight o'clock.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;He's waitin', Sir; and 'twas to tell you so I came in. Shall
+I tell him to come here?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I asked him to come, Dick; I knew you would allow me.
+<a class="pagenum" name="Page_246" title="246"> </a>
+He has some information to give me respecting the wretch who
+murdered your poor Uncle Harry.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;May I remain?&rdquo; asked Richard.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Do; certainly.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Then, Martha, will you tell him to come here?&rdquo; said Richard,
+and in another minute the sable garments and melancholy
+visage of Mr. Plumes entered the room slowly.</p>
+
+<p>When Mr. Plumes was seated, he said, with much deliberation,
+in reply to Uncle David's question&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Yes, Sir, I have brought it with me. You said, I think, you
+wished me to fetch it, and as my sister was at home, she
+hobleeged me with a loan of it. It belonged, you may remember,
+to her deceased daughter&mdash;my niece. I have got it in my
+breast-pocket; perhaps you would wish me now to take it hout?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I'm most anxious to look at it,&rdquo; said Uncle David, approaching
+with extended hand. &ldquo;You said you had seen him; was
+this a good likeness?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>These questions and the answers to them occupied the time
+during which Mr. Plumes, whose proceedings were slow as a
+funeral, disengaged the square parcel in question from his
+pocket, and then went on to loosen the knots in the tape which
+tied it up, and afterwards to unfold the wrappings of paper which
+enveloped it.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I don't remember him well enough, only that he was good-looking.
+And this was took by machinery, and it <em>must</em> be
+like. The ball and socket they called it. It must be hexact,
+Sir.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>So saying, he produced a square black leather case, which
+being opened displayed a black profile, the hair and whiskers
+being indicated by a sort of gilding which, laid upon sable, reminded
+one of the decorations of a coffin, and harmonised
+cheerfully with Mr. Plumes' profession.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Oh!&rdquo; exclaimed Uncle David with considerable disappointment,
+&ldquo;I thought it was a miniature; this is only a silhouette;
+but you are sure it <em>is</em> the profile of Yelland Mace?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;That is certain, Sir. His name is on the back of it, and she
+kept it, poor young woman! with a lock of his 'air and some
+hother relics in her work-box.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>By this time Uncle David was examining it with deep interest.
+The outline demolished all his fancies about Mr. Longcluse.
+The nose, though delicately formed, was decidedly the ruling
+feature of the face. It was rather a parrot face, but with a good
+forehead. David Arden was disappointed. He handed it to his
+nephew.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;That is a kind of face one would easily remember,&rdquo; he
+observed to Richard as he looked. &ldquo;It is not like any one that
+I know, or <em>ever</em> knew.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p><a class="pagenum" name="Page_247" title="247"> </a>&ldquo;No,&rdquo; said Richard; &ldquo;I don't recollect any one the least like
+it.&rdquo; And he replaced it in his uncle's hand.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;We are very much obliged to you, Mr. Plumes; it was your
+mention of it this morning, and my great anxiety to discover all
+I can respecting that man, Yelland Mace, that induced me to
+make the request. Thank you very much,&rdquo; said old Mr. Arden,
+placing the profile in the fat fingers of Mr. Plumes. &ldquo;You
+must take a glass of sherry before you leave. And have you got
+a cab to return in?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;The men are waiting for me, I thank you, and I have just
+'ad my tea, Sir, much obleeged, and I think I had best return
+to town, gentlemen, as I have some few words to say to-night to
+our Mr. Trimmer; so, with your leave, gentlemen, I'll wish you
+good-night.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>And with a solemn bow, first to Mr. Arden, then to the young
+scion of the house, and lastly a general bow to both, that grave
+gentleman withdrew.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I could see no likeness in that thing to any one,&rdquo; repeated
+old Mr. Arden. &ldquo;Mr. Longcluse is a friend of yours?&rdquo; he
+added a little abruptly.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I can't say he was a friend; he was an acquaintance, but
+even that is quite ended.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;What! you don't know him any longer?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;No.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You're quite sure!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Perfectly.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Then I may say I'm very glad. I don't like him, and I can't
+say why; but I can't help connecting him with your poor uncle's
+death. I must have dreamed about him and forgot the dream,
+while the impression continues; for I cannot discover in any
+fact within my knowledge the slightest justification for the unpleasant
+persuasion that constantly returns to my mind. I could
+not trace a likeness to him in that silhouette.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>He looked at his nephew, who returned his steady look with
+one of utter surprise.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Oh, dear! no. There is not a vestige of a resemblance,&rdquo;
+said Richard. &ldquo;I know his features very well.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;No,&rdquo; said Uncle David, lowering his eyes to the table, on
+which he was tapping gently with his fingers; &ldquo;no, there
+certainly is not&mdash;not any. But I can't dismiss the suspicion. I
+can't get it out of my head, Richard, and yet I can't account for
+it,&rdquo; he said, raising his eyes to his nephew's. &ldquo;There is something
+in it; I could not else be so haunted.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<div class="image-center chapter-beginning"><a class="pagenum" name="Page_248" title="248"> </a>
+<img src="images/ch24.png" width="466" height="100" alt=""/>
+</div>
+
+<h2 class="no-break">CHAPTER LII.<br/>
+<small>MR. LONGCLUSE EMPLOYED.</small></h2>
+
+<div><img class="drop-cap" src="images/drop_t.png" width="72" height="72" alt=""/></div>
+
+<p class="drop-cap"><span class="upper-case">The</span> funeral was not to be for some days, and then to be
+conducted in the quietest manner possible. Sir
+Reginald was to be buried in a small vault under the
+little <ins title="chuch">church</ins>, whose steeple cast its shadow every
+sunny evening across the garden-hedges of the &ldquo;Guy of
+Warwick,&rdquo; and could be seen to the left from the door of
+Mortlake Hall, among distant trees. Further it was settled by
+Richard Arden and his uncle, on putting their heads together,
+that the funeral was to take place after dark in the evening;
+and even the undertaker's people were kept in ignorance of the
+exact day and hour.</p>
+
+<p>In the meantime, Mr. Longcluse did not trouble any member
+of the family with his condolences or inquiries. As a raven
+perched on a solitary bough surveys the country round, and
+observes many things&mdash;very little noticed himself&mdash;so Mr.
+Longcluse made his observations from his own perch and in his
+own way. Perhaps he was a little surprised on receiving from
+Lady May Penrose a note, in the <ins title="folowing">following</ins> terms:&mdash;</p>
+
+<blockquote>
+<p class="small-caps">&ldquo;Dear Mr. Longcluse,</p>
+
+<p class="larger-indent">&ldquo;I have just heard something that troubles me; and as I
+know of no one who would more readily do me a kindness, I hope you
+won't think me very troublesome if I beg of you to make me a call to-morrow
+morning, at any time before twelve.</p>
+
+<p class="right"><span style="margin-right: 3em;">&ldquo;Ever yours sincerely,</span><br/>
+&ldquo;<span class="small-caps">May Penrose</span>.&rdquo;</p>
+</blockquote>
+
+<p>Mr. Longcluse smiled darkly, as he read this note again. &ldquo;It
+is better to be sought after than to offer one's self.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Accordingly, next morning, Mr. Longcluse presented himself
+<a class="pagenum" name="Page_249" title="249"> </a>
+in Lady May's drawing-room; and after a little waiting, that
+good-natured lady entered the room. She liked to make herself
+miserable about the troubles of her friends, and on this occasion,
+on entering the door, she lifted her hands and eyes, and
+quickened her step towards Mr. Longcluse, who advanced a
+step or two to meet her.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Oh! Mr. Longcluse, it is so kind of you to come,&rdquo; she exclaimed;
+&ldquo;I am in such a sea of troubles! and you are such
+a friend, I know I may tell you. You have heard, of course,
+of poor Reginald's death. How horribly sudden!&mdash;shocking!
+and dear Alice is so broken by it! He had been, the day
+before, so cross&mdash;poor Reginald, everybody knows he had a
+temper, poor old soul!&mdash;and had made himself so disagreeable
+to her, and now she is quite miserable, as if it had been her
+fault. But no matter; it's not about that. Only do you happen
+to know of people&mdash;bankers or something&mdash;called Childers and
+Ballard?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Oh! dear, yes; Childers and Ballard; they are City
+people, on 'Change&mdash;stockbrokers. They are people you can
+quite rely on, so far as their solvency is concerned.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Oh! it isn't that. They have not been doing any business
+for me. It is a very unpleasant thing to speak about, even to a
+kind friend like you; but I want you to advise what is best to
+be done; and to ask you, if it is not very unreasonable, to use
+any influence you can&mdash;without trouble, of course, I mean&mdash;to
+prevent anything so distressing as may possibly happen.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You have only to say, dear Lady May, what I can do. I
+am too happy to place my poor services at your disposal.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I knew you would say so,&rdquo; said Lady May, again shaking
+hands in a very friendly way; &ldquo;and I know what I say won't
+go any further. I mean, of course, that you will receive it
+entirely as a confidence.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Longcluse was earnest in his assurances of secresy and
+good faith.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Well,&rdquo; said Lady May, lowering her voice, &ldquo;poor Reginald,
+he was my cousin, you know, so it pains me to say it; but he
+was a good deal embarrassed; his estates were very much in
+debt. He owed money to a great many people, I believe.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Oh! Really?&rdquo; Mr. Longcluse expressed his well-bred surprise
+very creditably.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Yes, indeed; and these people, Childers and Ballard, have
+something they call a judgment, I think. It is a kind of debt,
+for about twelve hundred pounds, which they say must be paid
+at once; and they vow that if it is not they will seize the coffin,
+and&mdash;and&mdash;all that, at the funeral. And David Arden is so
+angry, you can't think! and he says that the money is not
+owed to them, and that they have no right by law to do any
+<a class="pagenum" name="Page_250" title="250"> </a>
+such thing; and that from beginning to end it is a mere piece
+of extortion. And he won't hear of Richard's paying a farthing
+of it; and he says that Richard must bring a law-suit against
+them, for ever so much money, if they attempt anything of the
+kind, and that he's sure to win. But that is not what I am
+thinking of&mdash;it is about poor Alice, she is so miserable about
+the mere chance of its happening. The profanation&mdash;the fracas&mdash;all
+so shocking and so public&mdash;the funeral, you know.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You are quite sure of that, Lady May?&rdquo; said Longcluse.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I heard it all as I tell you. My man of business told me;
+and I saw David Arden,&rdquo; she answered.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Oh! yes; but I mean, with respect to Miss Arden. Does
+<em>she</em>, in particular, so very earnestly desire intervention in this
+awkward business?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Certainly; <em>only</em> she&mdash;only Miss Arden&mdash;only Alice.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>He looked down in thought, and then again in her face, paler
+than usual. He had made up his mind.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I shall take measures,&rdquo; he said quietly. &ldquo;I shall do everything&mdash;anything
+in my power. I shall even expose myself to
+the risk of insult, for her sake; only let it soften her. After I
+have done it, ask her, not before, to think mercifully of me.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>He was going.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Stay, Mr. Longcluse, just a moment. I don't know what I
+am to say to you; I am so much obliged. And yet how can
+I undertake that anything you do may affect other people as
+you wish?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Yes, of course you are right; I am willing to take my
+chance of that. Only, dear Lady May, will you <em>write</em> to her?
+All I plead for&mdash;and it is the <em>last</em> time I shall sue to her for
+anything&mdash;is that my folly may be forgotten, and I restored to
+the humble privileges of an acquaintance.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;But do you really wish me to write? I'll take an
+opportunity of speaking to her. Would not that be less
+formal?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Perhaps so; but, forgive me, it would not answer. I beg of
+you to write.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;But why do you prefer my writing?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Because I shall then read her answer.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Then I must tell her that you are to read her reply.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Certainly, dear Lady May; I meant nothing else.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Well, Mr. Longcluse, there is no great difficulty.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I only make it a request, not a condition. I shall do my
+utmost in any case. Pray tell her that.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Yes, I'll write to her, as you wish it; or, at least, I'll ask
+her to put on paper what she desires me to say, and I'll read
+it to you.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;That will answer as well. How can I thank you?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p><a class="pagenum" name="Page_251" title="251"> </a>&ldquo;There is no need of thanks. It is I who should thank you
+for taking, I am afraid, a great deal of trouble so promptly
+and kindly.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I know those people; they are cunning and violent, difficult
+to deal with, harder to trust,&rdquo; said Longcluse, looking down in
+thought. &ldquo;I should be most happy to settle with them, and
+afterwards the executor might settle with me at his convenience;
+but, from what you say, Mr. David Arden and his nephew won't
+admit their claim. I don't believe such a seizure would be
+legal; but they are people who frequently venture illegal
+measures, upon the calculation that it would embarrass those
+against whom they adopt them more than themselves to
+bring them into court. It is not an easy card to play, you see,
+and they are people I hate; but I'll try.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>In another minute Mr. Longcluse had taken his leave, and
+was gone.</p>
+
+<div class="image-center chapter-end">
+<img src="images/ep01.png" width="216" height="112" alt=""/>
+</div>
+
+<div class="image-center chapter-beginning"><a class="pagenum" name="Page_252" title="252"> </a>
+<img src="images/ch15.png" width="456" height="110" alt=""/>
+</div>
+
+<h2 class="no-break">CHAPTER LIII.<br/>
+<small>THE NIGHT OF THE FUNERAL.</small></h2>
+
+<div><img class="drop-cap" src="images/drop_m.png" width="72" height="73" alt=""/></div>
+
+<p class="drop-cap drop-wide"><span class="upper-case">Mr. Longcluse</span> smiled as he sat in his cab, driving
+City-ward to the office of Messrs. Childers and
+Ballard.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;How easily, now, one might get up a scene! Let
+Ballard, the monster&mdash;he would look the part well&mdash;with his
+bailiffs, seize the coffin and its precious burden in the church;
+and I, like Sir Edward Maulay, step forth from behind a pillar
+to stay the catastrophe. We could make a very fine situation,
+and I the hero; but the girl is too clever for that, and Richard
+as sharp&mdash;that is, as base&mdash;as I; knowing my objects, he would
+at once see a <em>plant</em>, and all would be spoiled. I shall do it in
+the least picturesque <ins title="and and">and</ins> most probable way. I should like
+to know the old housekeeper, Mrs. Tansey, better; I should
+like to be on good terms with her. An awkward meeting with
+Arden. What the devil do I care? besides, it is but one chance
+in a hundred. Yes, that is the best way. Can I see Mr.
+Ballard in his private room for a minute?&rdquo; he added aloud, to
+the clerk, Mr. Blotter, behind the mahogany counter, who turned
+from his desk deferentially, let himself down from his stool,
+and stood attentive before the great man, with his pen behind
+his ear.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Certainly, Mr. Longcluse&mdash;certainly, Sir. Will you allow
+me, Sir, to conduct you?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Most men would have been peremptorily denied; the more
+fortunate would have had to await the result of an application to
+Mr. Ballard; but to Mr. Longcluse all doors flew open, and
+wherever he went, like Mephistopheles, the witches received him
+gaily, and the cat-apes did him homage.</p>
+
+<p>Without waiting for the assistance of Mr. Blotter, he ran up
+the back-stairs familiarly to see Mr. Ballard; and when Mr.
+<a class="pagenum" name="Page_253" title="253"> </a>
+Longcluse came down, looking very grave, Mr. Ballard, with
+the red face and lowering countenance which he could not put
+off, accompanied him down-stairs deferentially, and held open
+the office-door for him; and could not suppress his grins for
+some time in the consciousness of the honour he had received.
+Mr. Ballard hoped that the people over the way had seen Mr.
+Longcluse step from his door; and mentioned to everyone he
+talked to for a week, that he had Mr. Longcluse in his private
+office in consultation&mdash;first it was &ldquo;for a quarter of an hour by
+the clock over the chimney,&rdquo; speedily it grew to &ldquo;half-an-hour,&rdquo;
+and finally to &ldquo;upwards of an hour, by<span style="white-space: nowrap;">&mdash;&mdash;</span>,&rdquo; with a stare in
+the face of the wondering, or curious, listener. And when
+clients looked in, in the course of the day, to consult him, he
+would say, with a wag of his head and a little looseness about
+minutes, &ldquo;There was a man sitting here a minute ago, Mr.
+Longcluse&mdash;you may have met him as you came up the stairs&mdash;that
+could have given us a wrinkle about that;&rdquo; or, &ldquo;Longcluse,
+who was here consulting with me this morning, is clearly of
+opinion that Italian bonds will be down a quarter by settling
+day;&rdquo; or, &ldquo;Take my advice, and don't burn your fingers with
+those things, for it is possible something queer may happen any
+day after Wednesday. I had Longcluse&mdash;I daresay you may
+have heard of him,&rdquo; he parenthesised jocularly&mdash;&ldquo;sitting in that
+chair to-day for very nearly an hour and a half, and that's a
+fellow one doesn't sit long with without hearing something worth
+remembering.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>From the attorney of Sir Richard Arden was served upon
+Messrs. Childers and Ballard, that day, a cautionary notice in
+very stern terms respecting their threatened attack upon Sir
+Reginald's funeral appointments and body; to which they
+replied in terms as sharp, and fixed three o'clock for payment
+of the bond.</p>
+
+<p>It was a very short mile from Mortlake to that small old
+church near the &ldquo;Guy of Warwick,&rdquo; the bit of whose grey spire
+and the pinnacle of whose weather-cock you could see between
+the two great clumps of elms to the left. Sir Reginald, feet
+foremost, was to make this little journey that evening under a
+grove of black plumes, to the small, quiet room, which he was
+henceforward to share with his ancestor Sir Hugh Arden, of
+Mortlake Hall, Baronet, whose pillard monument decorated the
+little church.</p>
+
+<p>He lies now, soldered up and screwed down, in his strait bed,
+triply secured in lead, mahogany, and oak, and as safe as &ldquo;the
+old woman of Berkeley&rdquo; hoped to be from the grip of
+marauders. Once there, and the stone door replaced and
+mortared in, the irritable old gentleman might sleep the quietest
+sleep his body had ever enjoyed, to the crack of doom. The space
+<a class="pagenum" name="Page_254" title="254"> </a>
+was short, too, which separated that from the bed-room he was
+leaving; but the interval was &ldquo;Jew's ground,&rdquo; trespassing on
+which, it was thought, he ran a great risk of being clutched by
+frantic creditors. A whisper of the danger had got into the
+housekeeper's room; and Crozier, whose north-country blood
+was hot, and temper warlike, had loaded the horse-pistols, and
+swore that he would shoot the first man who laid a hand unfriendly
+on the old master's coffin.</p>
+
+<p>There was an agitation simmering under the grim formalities
+and tip-toe treadings of the house of death. Martha Tansey
+grew frightened, angry as she was, and told Richard Arden that
+Crozier was &ldquo;neither to hold nor to bind, and meant to walk by
+the hearse, and stand by the coffin till it was shut into the
+vault, with loaded pistols in his coat-pockets, and would make
+food for worms so sure as they villains dar'd to interrupt the
+funeral.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Whereupon Richard saw Crozier, took the pistols from him,
+shook him very hard by the hand, for he liked him all the more,
+and told him that he would desire nothing better than their
+attempting to accomplish their threats, as he was well advised
+the law would make examples of them. Then he went up-stairs,
+and saw Alice, and he could not help thinking how her
+black crapes became her. He kissed her, and, sitting down
+beside her, said,&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Martha Tansey says, darling, that you are unhappy about
+something she has been telling you concerning this miserable
+funeral. She ought not to have alarmed you about it. If I
+had known that you were frightened, or, in fact, knew anything
+about it, I should have made a point of coming out here yesterday,
+although I had fifty things to do.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I had a very good-natured note to-day, Dick, from Lady
+May,&rdquo; she said&mdash;&ldquo;only a word, but very kindly intended.&rdquo;
+And she placed the open note in his fingers. When he had
+read it, Richard dropped the note on the table with a sneer.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;That man, I suspect, is himself the secret promoter of this
+outrage&mdash;a very inexpensive way, this, of making character
+with Lady May, and placing you under an obligation&mdash;the
+scoundrel!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Looks and language of hatred are not very pretty at any time,
+but in the atmosphere of death they acquire a character of
+horror. Some momentary disturbance of this kind Richard
+may have seen in his sister's pale face, for he said,&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Don't mind what I say about that fellow, for I have no
+patience with myself for having ever known him.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I am so glad, Dick, you have dropped <em>that</em> acquaintance!&rdquo;
+said the young lady.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You have come at last to think as I do,&rdquo; said Richard.</p>
+
+<p><a class="pagenum" name="Page_255" title="255"> </a>&ldquo;It is not so much thinking as something different; the
+uncertainty about him&mdash;the appalling stories you have heard&mdash;and,
+oh! Richard, I had such a dream last night! I dreamt
+that Mr. Longcluse murdered you. You smile, but I could not
+have imagined anything that was not real, so vivid, and it was
+in this room, and&mdash;I don't know how, for I forget the beginning
+of it&mdash;the candles went out, and you were standing near the
+door talking to me, and bright moonlight was at the window,
+and showed you quite distinctly, and the open door; and Mr.
+Longcluse came from behind it with a pistol, and I tried to
+scream, but I couldn't. But you turned about and stabbed at
+him with a knife or something; it shone in the moonlight, and
+instantly there was a line of blood across his face; he fired, and
+I saw you fall back on the floor; I knew you were dead, and I
+awoke in terror. I thought I still saw his wicked face in the
+dark, quite white as it was in my dream. I screamed, and
+thought I was going mad.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;It is only, darling, that all that has happened has made you
+nervous, and no wonder. Don't mind your dreams. Longcluse
+and I will never exchange a word more. We have turned
+our backs on one another, and our paths lie in very different
+directions.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>This was a melancholy and grizzly evening at Mortlake Hall.
+The undertakers were making some final and mysterious
+arrangements about the coffin, and stole in and out of the dead
+baronet's room, of which they had taken possession.</p>
+
+<p>Martha Tansey was alone in her room. It was a lurid sunset.
+Immense masses of black cloud were piled in the west,
+and from a long opening in that sombre screen, near the
+horizon, the expiring light glared like the red fire at night,
+through the clink of a smithy. Mrs. Tansey, dressed in deepest
+mourning, awaited the hour when she was to accompany the
+funeral of her old master.</p>
+
+<p>Without succumbing to the threat of Messrs. Childers and
+Ballard, David Arden and his nephew would have been glad to
+evade the risk of the fracas, which would no doubt have been a
+dismal scandal. Martha Tansey herself was not quite sure at
+what hour the funeral was to leave Mortlake. Opposite the
+window from which she looked, stand groups of gigantic elms
+that darken that side of the house, and underwood forms a thick
+screen among their trunks. Upon the edges of this foliage
+glinted that fierce farewell gleam, and among the glimmering
+leaves behind she thought she saw the sinister face of Mr. Longcluse
+looking toward her. Her fear and horror of Longcluse
+had increased, and if the very remembrance of him visited her
+with a sudden qualm, you may be sure that the sight of him, on
+this melancholy evening, was a shock. Alice's wild dream,
+<a class="pagenum" name="Page_256" title="256"> </a>
+which she had recounted to her, did not serve to dissociate him
+from the vague misgivings that his image called up. She stared
+aghast at the apparition&mdash;itself uncertain&mdash;while in the deep
+shadow, with a foreground of fiercely flashing leaves, had on a
+sudden looked at her, and before she could utter an exclamation
+it was gone.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I think it is my old eyes that plays me tricks, and my
+weary head that's 'wildered wi' all this dowly jummlement!
+What sud bring him there? It was never him I sid, only a fancy,
+and it's past and gone; and so, in the name of God, be it now,
+and ever, amen! For an evil sight it is, and bodes us no good.
+Who's there?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;It's me, Mrs. Tansey,&rdquo; said Crozier, who had just come in.
+&ldquo;Master Richard desired me to tell you it is to be at ten o'clock
+to-night. He and Mr. David thinks that best, and you're to
+please not to mention it to no one.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Ten o'clock! That's very late, ain't it? No, surely, I'll
+not blab to no one; let him tell them when he sees fit. Martha
+Tansey's na that sort; she has had mony a secret to keep, and
+always the confidence o' the family, and 'twould be queer if she
+did not know to ho'd her tongue by this time. Sit ye down,
+Mr. Crozier&mdash;ye're wore off yer feet, man, like myself, ever since
+this happened&mdash;and rest a bit; the kettle's boilin', and ye'll tak'
+a cup o' tea. It's hours yet to ten o'clock.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>So Mr. Crozier, who was in truth a tired man, complied, and
+took his seat by the fire, and talked over Sir Reginald's money
+matters, his fits, and his death; and, finally, he fell asleep in his
+chair, having taken three cups of tea.</p>
+
+<p>The twilight had melted into darkness by this time, and the
+clear, cold moonlight was frosting all the landscape, and falling
+white and bright on the carriage-way outside, and casting on
+the floor the sharp shadows of the window-sashes, and giving
+the brilliant representations of the windows and the very veining
+of the panes of glass upon the white boards.</p>
+
+<p>As Martha sat by the table, with her eyes fixed, in a reverie,
+on one of these reflections upon the floor, the shadow of a man
+was suddenly presented upon it, and raising her eyes she saw a
+figure, black against the moonlight, beckoning gently to her to
+approach.</p>
+
+<p>Martha Tansey was an old lass of the Northumbrian counties,
+and had in her veins the fiery blood of the Border. The man
+wore a great-coat, and she could not discern his features; but
+he was tall and slight, and she was sure he was Mr. Longcluse.
+But &ldquo;what dar' Longcluse say or do that she need fear?&rdquo;
+And was not Crozier dozing there in the chair, &ldquo;ready at
+call?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Up she got, and stalked boldly to the window, and, drawing
+<a class="pagenum" name="Page_257" title="257"> </a>
+near, she plainly saw, as the stranger drew himself up from the
+window-pane through which he had been looking, and the moonlight
+glanced on his features, that the face was indeed that of
+Mr. Longcluse. He looked very pale, and was smiling. He
+nodded to her in a friendly way once or twice as she approached.
+She stood stock-still about two yards away, and though she
+knew him well, she deigned no sign of recognition, for she had
+learned vaguely something of the feud that had sprung up
+between him and the young head of the family, and no
+daughter of the marches was ever a fiercer partisan than lean
+old Martha. He tapped at the window, still smiling, and
+beckoned her nearer. She did come a step nearer, and asked
+sternly&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;What's your will wi' me?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I'm Mr. Longcluse,&rdquo; he said, in a low tone, but with sharp
+and measured articulation. &ldquo;I have something important to
+say. Open the window a little; I must not raise my voice, and
+I have this to give you.&rdquo; He held a note by the corner, and
+tapped it on the glass.</p>
+
+<p>Martha Tansey thought for a moment. It could not be a law-writ
+he had to serve; a rich man like him would never do that.
+Why should she not take his note, and hear what he had to say?
+She removed the bolt from the sash, and raised the window.
+There was not a breath stirring.</p>
+
+<div class="image-center chapter-end">
+<img src="images/ep28.png" width="282" height="67" alt=""/>
+</div>
+
+<div class="image-center chapter-beginning"><a class="pagenum" name="Page_258" title="258"> </a>
+<img src="images/ch15.png" width="456" height="110" alt=""/>
+</div>
+
+<h2 class="no-break">CHAPTER LIV.<br/>
+<small>AMONG THE TREES.</small></h2>
+
+<div><img class="drop-cap" src="images/drop_w.png" width="72" height="72" alt=""/></div>
+
+<p class="drop-cap drop-wide"><span class="upper-case">When</span> the old woman had raised the window, &ldquo;Thanks,&rdquo;
+said Mr. Longcluse, almost in a whisper. &ldquo;There
+are people, Lady May Penrose told me this morning,
+threatening to interrupt the funeral to-night. Of
+course you know&mdash;you must know.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I have heard o' some such matter, but 'tis nout to no one
+here. We don't care a snap for them, and if they try any sich
+lids, by my sang, we'll fit them. And I think, Sir, if ye've any
+thing o' consequence to tell to the family, ye'll not mind my
+saying 'twould be better ye sud go, like ither folk, to the hall-door,
+and leave your message there.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Your reproof would be better deserved, Mrs. Tansey,&rdquo; he
+answers good-humouredly, &ldquo;if there had not been a difficulty.
+Mr. Richard Arden is not on pleasant terms with me, and my
+business will not afford to wait. I understand that Miss Arden
+has suffered much anxiety. It is entirely on her account that I
+have interested myself so much in it; and I don't see, Mrs.
+Tansey, why you and I should not be better friends,&rdquo; he adds,
+extending his long slender hand gently towards her.</p>
+
+<p>She does not take it, but makes a stiff little curtsey instead,
+and draws back about six inches.</p>
+
+<p>Perhaps Mr. Longcluse had meditated making her a present,
+but her severe looks daunted him, and he thought that he might
+as well be a little better acquainted before he made that venture.
+He went on&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You have spoken very wisely, Mrs. Tansey; I am sure if
+these people do as they threaten, it will be contrary to law,
+and so, as you say, you may snap your fingers at them at last.
+But in the meantime they may enter the house and seize the
+coffin, or possibly cause some disgraceful interruption on the
+<a class="pagenum" name="Page_259" title="259"> </a>
+way. Lady May tells me that Miss Alice has suffered a great
+deal in consequence. Will you tell her to set her mind at
+ease? Pray assure her that I have seen the people, that I
+have threatened them into submission, that I am confident
+no such attempt will be made, and that should the slightest
+annoyance be attempted, Crozier has only to present the
+notice enclosed in this to the person offering it, and it will
+instantly be discontinued. I have done all this <em>entirely</em> on her
+account, and pray lose no time in quieting her alarms. I am
+sure, Mrs. Tansey, you and I shall be better friends some
+day.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Tansey curtseyed again.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Pray take this note.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>She took it.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Give it to Crozier; and pray tell Miss Alice Arden, immediately,
+that she need have no fears. Good-night.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>And pale Mr. Longcluse, with his smile and his dismally dark
+gaze, and the strange suggestion of something undefined in
+look or tone, or air, that gradually <ins title="overcome">overcame</ins> her more and
+more till she almost felt faint, as he smiled and murmured
+at the open window, in the moonlight, was gone. Then she
+stood with the note in her thin fingers, without moving, and
+called to Crozier with a shrill and earnest summons as one
+who has just had a frightful dream will call up a sleeper in the
+same room.</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Longcluse walks boldly and listlessly through this forbidden
+ground. He does not care who may meet him.
+Near the house, indeed, he would not like an encounter with
+Sir Richard Arden, because he knows that his being involved
+in a quarrel at such a moment, so near, especially
+with her brother, would not subserve his interests with Alice
+Arden.</p>
+
+<p>For hours he strode or loitered alone through the solitary
+woodlands. The moonlight was beautiful; the old trees stand
+mournful and black against the luminous sky; there is for him
+a fascination in the solitude, as his noiseless steps lead him
+alternately into the black shadow cast on the sward by the
+towering foliage, and into the clear moonlight, on dewy grass
+that shows grey in that cold brightness. He was in the excitement
+of hope and suspense. Things had looked very black, but
+a door had opened and light came out. Was it a dream?</p>
+
+<p>He leans with folded arms against the trunk of one of the
+trees that stand there, and from the slight elevation of the ground
+he can see the avenue under the boughs of the trees that flank
+it, and the chimneys of Mortlake Hall through the summits of
+the opening clumps. How melancholy and still the whole scene
+looks under that light!</p>
+
+<p><a class="pagenum" name="Page_260" title="260"> </a>&ldquo;When I succeed to all this, who will be mistress of it?&rdquo; he
+says, with his strange smile, looking toward the summits of the
+chimneys, that indicate the site of the Hall. &ldquo;No one knows
+who I am; who can tell my history? What about that opera-girl?
+What about my money?&mdash;money is alway exaggerated.
+How many humbugs! how many collapses! stealing into society
+by evasions, on false pretences, in disguise! The man in the
+mask, ha! ha! Really perhaps <em>two</em> masks; not a bad fluke,
+that. The villain! You would not take a thousand pounds and
+know me&mdash;that is speaking boldly. A thousand pounds is still
+something in your book. You would not take it. The time will
+come, perhaps, when you'd <em>give</em> a thousand&mdash;<em>ten</em> thousand, if
+you had them&mdash;that I were your friend. Slanderous villain!
+To think of his talking so of me! The man in the mask trying
+to excite suspicion. My two masks are broken, and I all the
+better. By&mdash;! you shall meet me yet without a mask. Alice!
+will you be my idol? There is no neutrality with one like me in
+such a case. If I don't worship, I must <em>break</em> the image. What
+a speck we stand on between the illimitable&mdash;the eternal past
+and the eternal future&mdash;always looking for a present that shall
+be something tangible; always finding it a mathematical point,
+<i lang="la" xml:lang="la">cujus nulla est pars</i>&mdash;the mere stand-point of a retrospect
+and a conjecture. Ha! There are the wheels: there goes the
+funeral!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>He holds his breath, and watches. How interesting is everything
+connected with <ins title="Alice?">Alice!</ins> Slowly it passes along. Through
+one opening made by the havoc of a storm in the line of trees
+that form the avenue, he sees it plainly enough. A very scanty
+procession&mdash;the plumed hearse and three carriages, and a few
+persons walking beside. It passes. The great iron gate
+shrieks its long and dolorous note as it opened, and Longcluse
+heard it clang after the last carriage had passed, and with this
+farewell the old gate sent forth the dead master of Mortlake.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Farewell to Mortlake,&rdquo; murmured Longcluse, as he heard
+these sounds, with a shrug and his peculiar smile; &ldquo;farewell,
+the lights, the claret-jug, the whist, and all the rest. You &lsquo;fear
+neither justices nor bailiffs,&rsquo; as the song says, any longer. Very
+easy about your interest and your premiums; very careless who
+arrests you in your leaden vesture; and having paid, if nothing
+else, at least your beloved son's <i lang="la" xml:lang="la">post obit</i>. Courage, Sir
+Reginald! your earthly troubles are over. Here am I, erect as
+this tree, and as like to live my term out, with all that money,
+and no will made, and yet as tired as ever you were, and very
+willing, if the transaction were feasible, to die, and be bothered
+no more, instead of you.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>He sighs, and looks toward the house, and sighs again.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Does she relent? Was it not she who told Lady May to
+<a class="pagenum" name="Page_261" title="261"> </a>
+ask this service of me? If I could only be sure of that, I
+should stand here, this moment, the proudest man in England.
+I think I know myself&mdash;a very simple character; just two
+principles&mdash;love and malice; for the rest, unscrupulous. Mere
+cruelty gives me no pleasure: well for some people it don't.
+Revenge does make me happy: well for some people if it didn't.
+Except for those I love or those I hate, I live for none. The
+rest live for me. I owe them no more than I do this rotten
+stick. Let them rot and fatten my land; let them burn and
+bake my bread.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>With these words he kicked the fragments of a decayed
+branch that lay at his foot, and glided over the short grass, like
+a ghost, toward the gate.</p>
+
+<div class="image-center chapter-end">
+<img src="images/ep04.png" width="232" height="128" alt=""/>
+</div>
+
+<div class="image-center chapter-beginning"><a class="pagenum" name="Page_262" title="262"> </a>
+<img src="images/ch28.png" width="444" height="86" alt=""/>
+</div>
+
+<h2 class="no-break">CHAPTER LV.<br/>
+<small>MR. LONGCLUSE SEES A FRIEND.</small></h2>
+
+<div><img class="drop-cap" src="images/drop_s.png" width="73" height="72" alt=""/></div>
+
+<p class="drop-cap"><span class="upper-case">Sir Reginald Arden</span>, then, is actually dead and
+buried, and is quite done with the pomps and vanities,
+the business and the miseries of life&mdash;dead as King
+Duncan, and cannot come out of his grave to trouble
+any one with protest or interference; and his son, Sir Richard,
+is in possession of the title, and seized of the acres, and uses
+them, without caring to trouble himself with conjectures as to
+what his father would have liked or abhorred.</p>
+
+<p>A week has passed since the funeral. Lady May has spent
+two days at Mortlake, and then gone down to Brighton. Alice
+does not leave Mortlake; her spirits do not rise. Kind Lady
+May has done her best to persuade her to come down with her
+to Brighton, but the perversity or the indolence of grief has
+prevailed, and Alice has grown more melancholy and self-upbraiding
+about her quarrel with her father, and will not be
+persuaded to leave Mortlake, the very worst place she could
+have chosen, as Lady May protests, for a residence during her
+mourning. Perhaps in a little while she may feel equal to the
+effort, but now she can't. She has quite lost her energy, and
+the idea of a place like Brighton, or even the chance of meeting
+people, is odious to her.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;So, my dear, do what I may, there she will remain, in that
+<i lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">triste</i> place,&rdquo; says Lady May Penrose; &ldquo;and her brother, Sir
+Richard, has so much business just now on his hands, that he
+is often away two or three days at a time, and then she stays
+moping there quite alone; and only that she likes gardening
+and flowers, and that kind of thing, I really think she would go
+melancholy mad. But you know that kind of folly can't go on
+always, and I am determined to take her away in a month or
+so. People at first are so morbid, and make recluses of themselves.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p><a class="pagenum" name="Page_263" title="263"> </a>Lady May stayed away at Brighton for about a week. On
+her return, Mr. Longcluse called to see her.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;It was so kind of you, Mr. Longcluse, to take all the trouble
+you did about that terrible business! and it was perfectly
+successful. There was not the slightest unpleasantness.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Yes, I knew I had made anything of that kind all but
+impossible, but you are not to thank me. It made me only too
+happy to have an opportunity of being of any use&mdash;of relieving
+any anxiety.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Longcluse sighed.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You have placed me, I know, under a great obligation, and
+if every one felt it as I do, you would have been thanked as you
+deserved before now.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>A little silence followed.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;How is Miss Arden?&rdquo; asked he in a low tone, and hardly
+raising his eyes.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Pretty well,&rdquo; she answered, a little dryly. &ldquo;She's not very
+wise, I think, in planning to shut herself up so entirely in that
+melancholy place, Mortlake. You have seen it?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Yes, more than once,&rdquo; he answered.</p>
+
+<p>Lady May appeared more embarrassed as Mr. Longcluse
+grew less so. They became silent again. Mr. Longcluse was
+the first to speak, which he did a little hesitatingly.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I was going to say that I hoped Miss Arden was not vexed
+at my having ventured to interfere as I did.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Oh! about that, of course there ought to be, as I said, but
+one opinion; but you know she is not herself just now, and I
+shall have, perhaps, something to tell by-and-by; and, to say
+truth&mdash;you won't be vexed, but I'm sorry I undertook to speak
+to her, for on that point I really don't quite understand her;
+and I am a little vexed&mdash;and&mdash;I'll talk to you more another
+time. I'm obliged to keep an appointment just now, and the
+carriage,&rdquo; she added, glancing at the <i lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">pendule</i> on the bracket
+close by, &ldquo;will be at the door in two or three minutes; so I
+must do a very ungracious thing, and say good-bye; and you
+must come again very soon&mdash;come to luncheon to-morrow&mdash;you
+must, really; I won't let you off, I assure you; there are
+two or three people coming to see me, whom I think you would
+like to meet.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>And, looking very good-natured, and a little flushed, and
+rather avoiding Mr. Longcluse's dark eyes, she departed.</p>
+
+<p>He had been thinking of paying Miss Maubray a visit, but
+he had not avowed, even to himself, how high his hopes had
+mounted; and here was, in Lady May's ominous manner and
+determined evasion, matter to disturb and even shock him.
+Instead, therefore, of pursuing the route he had originally
+designed, he strolled into the park, and under the shade of
+<a class="pagenum" name="Page_264" title="264"> </a>
+green boughs he walked, amid the twitter of birds and the
+prattle of children and nursery-maids, with despair at his heart,
+and a brain in chaos.</p>
+
+<p>As he sauntered, with downcast looks, under the trees, he
+came upon a humble Hebrew friend, Mr. Goldshed, a magnate
+in his own circle, but dwarfed into nothing beside the paragon
+of Mammon who walked on the grass, so unpretentiously, and
+with a face as anxious as that of the greengrocer who had just
+been supplicating the Jew for a renewal of his twenty-five pound
+bill.</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Goldshed came to a full stop a little way in advance of
+Mr. Longcluse, anxious to attract his attention. Mr. Longcluse
+did see him, as he sauntered on; and the fat old Jew, with the
+seedy velvet waistcoat, crossed with gold chains, and with an
+old-fashioned gold eye-glass dangling at his breast, first smiled
+engagingly, then looked reverential and solemn, and then smiled
+again with his great moist lips, and raised his hat. Longcluse
+gave him a sharp, short nod, and intended to pass him.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Will you shpare me one word, Mr. Lonclushe?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Not to-day, Sir.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;But I've been to your chambers, Sir, and to your houshe,
+Mr. Lonclushe.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You've wasted time&mdash;waste no more.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I do assure you, Shir, it'sh very urgent.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I don't care.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;It'sh about that East Indian thing,&rdquo; and he lowered his
+voice as he concluded the sentence.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I don't care a pin, Sir.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>The amiable Mr. Goldshed hesitated; Mr. Longcluse passed
+him as if he had been a post. He turned, however, and walked
+a few steps by Mr. Longcluse's side.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;And everything elshe is going sho vell; and it would look
+fishy, don't you think, to let thish thing go that way?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Let them go&mdash;and go you with them. I wish the earth
+would swallow you all&mdash;scrip, bonds, children, and beldames.&rdquo;
+And if a stamp could have made the earth open at his bidding,
+it would have yawned wide enough at that instant. &ldquo;If you
+follow me another step, by Heaven, I'll make it unpleasant to
+you.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Longcluse looked so angry, that the Jew made him an
+unctuous bow, and remained fixed for a while to the earth,
+gazing after his patron with his hands in his pockets; and, with
+a gloomy countenance, he took forth a big cigar from his case,
+lighted a vesuvian, and began to smoke, still looking after Mr.
+Longcluse.</p>
+
+<p>That gentleman sauntered on, striking his stick now and then
+to the ground, or waving it over the grass in as many odd
+<a class="pagenum" name="Page_265" title="265"> </a>
+flourishes as a magician in a pantomime traces with his
+wand.</p>
+
+<p>If men are prone to teaze themselves with imaginations, they
+are equally disposed to comfort themselves with the same
+shadowy influences.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I'm so nervous about this thing, and so anxious, that I
+exaggerate everything that seems to tell against me. How did
+I ever come to love her so? And yet, would I kill that love if I
+could? Should I not kill myself first? I'll go and see Miss
+Maubray&mdash;I may hear something from her. Lady May <em>was</em>
+embarrassed: what then? Were I a simple observer of such
+a scene in the case of another, I should say there was nothing
+in it more than this&mdash;that she had quite forgotten all about her
+promise. She never mentioned my name, and when the moment
+came, and I had come to ask for an account, she did not know
+what to say. It was well done, to see old Mrs. Tansey as I
+did. Lady May is so good-natured, and would feel her little
+neglect so much, and she will be sure to make it up. Fifty
+things may have prevented her. Yes, I'll go and hear what
+Miss Maubray has to say, and I'll lunch with Lady May to-morrow.
+I suspect that her visit to-day was to Mortlake.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>With these reflections, Mr. Longcluse's pace became brisker,
+and his countenance brightened.</p>
+
+<div class="image-center chapter-end">
+<img src="images/ep01.png" width="216" height="112" alt=""/>
+</div>
+
+<div class="image-center chapter-beginning"><a class="pagenum" name="Page_266" title="266"> </a>
+<img src="images/ch01.png" width="441" height="84" alt=""/>
+</div>
+
+<h2 class="no-break">CHAPTER LVI.<br/>
+<small>A HOPE EXPIRES.</small></h2>
+
+<div><img class="drop-cap" src="images/drop_m.png" width="72" height="73" alt=""/></div>
+
+<p class="drop-cap drop-wide"><span class="upper-case">Mr. Longcluse</span> knocked at Mr. David Arden's
+door. Yes, Miss Maubray was at home. He
+mounted the stairs, and was duly announced at
+the drawing-room door, and saw the brilliant
+young lady, who received him very graciously. She was
+alone.</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Longcluse began by saying that the weather was cooler,
+and the sun much less intolerable.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I wish we could say as much for the people, though, indeed,
+they are cool enough. There are some people called Tramways:
+he's a baronet&mdash;a very new one. Do you know anything
+of them? Are they people one can know?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I only know that Lady Tramway chaperoned a very
+charming young lady, whom everybody is very glad to know, to
+Lady May's garden-party the other day, at Richmond.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Yes, very true; I'm that young lady, and that is the very
+reason I want to know. My uncle placed me in their
+hands.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Oh, he knows everybody.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Yes, and every one, which is quite another thing; and the
+woman has never given me an hour's quiet since. She presents
+me with bouquets, and fruit, and every imaginable thing I don't
+want, herself included, at least once a day; and I assure you I
+live in hourly terror of her getting into the drawing-room. You
+don't know anything about them?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I only know that her husband made a great deal of money
+by a contract.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;That sounds very badly, and she is such a vulgar
+woman?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p><a class="pagenum" name="Page_267" title="267"> </a>&ldquo;I know no more of them; but Lady May had her to Raleigh
+Hall, and surely she can satisfy your scruples.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;No, it was my guardian who asked for their card, so that
+goes for nothing. It is really too bad.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;My heart bleeds for you.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;By-the-bye, talking of Lady May, I had a visit from her not
+a quarter-of-an-hour ago. What a fuss our friends at Mortlake
+do make about the death of that disagreeable old man!&mdash;Alice,
+I mean. Richard Arden bears it wonderfully. When did you
+see either?&rdquo; she asked, innocently.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You forget he has not been dead three weeks, and Alice
+Arden is not likely to see any one but very intimate friends for
+a long time; and&mdash;and I daresay you have heard that Sir
+Richard Arden and I are not on very pleasant terms.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;&lsquo;Oh! Pity such difference should be<span style="white-space: nowrap;">&mdash;&mdash;</span>.&rsquo;&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Thanks, and Tweedledum and Tweedledee are not likely
+to make it up. I'm afraid people aren't always reasonable,
+you know, and expect, often, things that are not quite
+fair.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;He ought to marry some one with money, and give up
+play.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;What! give up play, and commence husband? I'm afraid
+he'd think that a rather dull life.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Well, I'm sure I'm no judge of that, although I give an
+opinion. Whatever he may be, you have a very staunch friend
+in Lady May.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I'm glad of that; she's always so kind.&rdquo; And he looked
+rather oddly at the young lady.</p>
+
+<p>Perhaps she seemed conscious of a knowledge more than she
+had yet divulged.</p>
+
+<p>This young lady was, I need not tell you, a little coarse. She
+had, when she liked, the frankness that can come pretty boldly
+to the point; but I think she could be sly enough when she
+pleased; and was she just a little mischievous?</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Lady May has been talking to me a great deal about Alice
+Arden. She has been to see her very often since that poor old
+man died, and she says&mdash;she says, Mr. Longcluse&mdash;will you be
+upon honour not to repeat this?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Certainly, upon my honour.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Well, she says<span style="white-space: nowrap;">&mdash;&mdash;</span>&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Miss Maubray gets up quickly, and settles some flowers over
+the chimney-piece.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;She says that there is a coolness in that quarter also.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I don't quite see,&rdquo; says Mr. Longcluse.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Well, I must tell you she has taken me into council, and told
+me a great deal; and she spoke to Alice, and wrote to her. Did
+she say she would show you the answer? I have got it; she
+<a class="pagenum" name="Page_268" title="268"> </a>
+left it with me, and asked me&mdash;she's so good-natured&mdash;to use
+my influence&mdash;she said <em>my</em> influence! She ought to know I've
+<em>no</em> influence.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Longcluse felt very oddly indeed during this speech; he had
+still presence of mind not to add anything to the knowledge the
+young lady might actually possess.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You have not said a great deal, you know; but Lady May
+certainly did promise to show me an answer which she expected
+to a note she wrote about three weeks ago, or less, to Miss
+Arden.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I really don't know of what use I can be in the matter. I
+have no excuse for speaking to Alice on the subject of her note&mdash;none
+in the world. I think I may as well let you see it;
+but you will promise&mdash;you <em>have</em> promised&mdash;not to tell any
+one?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I have&mdash;I do&mdash;I promise. Lady May herself said she would
+show me that letter.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Well, I can't, I suppose, be very wrong. It is only a note:
+it does not say much, but quite enough, I'm afraid, to make it
+useless, and almost impertinent, for me, or any one else, to say
+a word more on the subject to Alice Arden.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>All this time she is opening a very pretty marqueterie writing-desk,
+on spiral legs, which Longcluse has been listlessly admiring,
+little thinking what it contains. She now produced a little
+note, which, disengaging from its envelope, she places in the
+hand that Mr. Longcluse extended to receive it.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I do so hope,&rdquo; she said, as she gave it to him, &ldquo;that I am
+doing what Lady May would wish. I think she shrank a little
+from showing it to you herself, but I am certain she wished you
+to know what is in it.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>He opened it quickly. It ran thus (&ldquo;Merry,&rdquo; I must remark,
+was a pet name, originating, perhaps, in Shakespeare's song that
+speaks of &ldquo;the merry month of May&rdquo;):&mdash;</p>
+
+<blockquote>
+<p class="small-caps">&ldquo;Dearest Merry,</p>
+
+<p class="larger-indent">&ldquo;I hope you will come to see me to-morrow. I cannot
+yet bear the idea of going into town. I feel as if I never should, and I
+think I grow more and more miserable every day. You are one of the
+very few friends whom I can see. You can't think what a pleasure
+a call from you is&mdash;if, indeed, in my miserable state, I can call anything
+a pleasure. I have read your letter about Mr. Longcluse, and parts of
+it a little puzzle me. I can't say that I have anything to forgive, and I
+am sure he has acted just as kindly as you say. But our acquaintance
+has ended, and nothing shall ever induce me to renew it. I can give
+you fifty reasons, when I see you, for my not choosing to know him.
+Darling Merry, I have quite made up my mind upon this point. I
+<em>don't</em> know Mr. Longcluse, and I <em>won't</em> know Mr. Longcluse; and I'll
+<a class="pagenum" name="Page_269" title="269"> </a>tell you <em>all</em> my reasons, if you wish to hear them, when we meet. Some
+of them, which seem to me <em>more</em> than sufficient, you do know. The
+only condition I make is that you don't discuss them with me. I have
+grown so stupid that <em>I</em> really cannot. I only know that I am right, and
+that <em>nothing</em> can change me. Come, darling, and see me very soon.
+You have no idea how very wretched I am. But I do not complain:
+it has drawn me, I hope, to higher and better thoughts. The world is
+not what it was to me, and I pray it never may be. Come and see
+me soon, darling; you cannot think how I long to see you.&mdash;Your
+affectionate,</p>
+
+<p class="right small-caps">&ldquo;Alice Arden.&rdquo;</p>
+</blockquote>
+
+<p>&ldquo;What mountains of molehills!&rdquo; said Mr. Longcluse, very
+gently, smiling with a little shrug, as he placed the letter again
+in Miss Maubray's hand.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Making such a fuss about that poor old man's death! It
+certainly does look a little like a pretty affectation. Isn't that
+what you mean? He <em>was</em> so <em>insupportable</em>!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;No, I know nothing about that. I mean such a ridiculous
+fuss about nothing. Why, people cease to be acquainted every
+day for much less reason. Sir Reginald chose to talk over
+his money matters with me, and I think he expected me to do
+things which no stranger could be reasonably invited to do.
+And I suppose, now that he is gone, Miss Arden resents my
+insensibility to his hints; and I daresay Sir Richard, who, I
+may say, on precisely similar grounds, chooses to quarrel with
+me, does not spare invective, and has, of course, a friendly
+listener in his sister. But how absurdly provoking that Lady
+May should have made such a diplomacy, and given herself
+so much trouble! And&mdash;I'm afraid I appear so foolish&mdash;I
+merely assented to Lady May's kind proposal to mediate,
+and I could not, of course, appear to think it a less important
+mission than she did; and&mdash;where are you going&mdash;Scotland?
+Italy?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;My guardian, Mr. Arden, has not yet settled anything,&rdquo; she
+answered; and upon this, Mr. Longcluse begins to recommend,
+and with much animation to describe, several Continental routes,
+and then he tells her all his gossip, and takes his leave, apparently
+in very happy spirits.</p>
+
+<p>I doubt very much whether the face can ever be taught to lie
+as impudently as the tongue. Its muscles, of course, can be
+trained; but the young lady thought that Mr. Longcluse's pallor,
+as he smiled and returned the note, was more intense, and his
+dark eyes strangely fierce.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;He was more vexed than he cared to say,&rdquo; thought the
+young lady. &ldquo;Lady May has not told me the whole story yet.
+There has been a great deal of fibbing, but I shall know it all.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p><a class="pagenum" name="Page_270" title="270"> </a>Mr. Longcluse had to dine out. He drove home to dress.
+On arriving, he first sat down and wrote a note to Lady
+May.</p>
+
+<blockquote>
+<p class="small-caps">&ldquo;Dear Lady May,</p>
+
+<p class="larger-indent">&ldquo;I am so grateful. Miss Maubray told me to-day all the
+trouble you have been taking for me. Pray think no more of that little
+vexation. I never took so serious a view of so commonplace an unpleasantness,
+as to dream of tasking your kindness so severely. I am
+quite ashamed of having given you so much trouble.&mdash;Yours, dear Lady
+May, sincerely,</p>
+
+<p class="right small-caps">&ldquo;Walter Longcluse.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;P.S.&mdash;I don't forget your kind invitation to lunch to-morrow.&rdquo;</p>
+</blockquote>
+
+<p>Longcluse dispatched this note, and then wrote a few words
+of apology to the giver of the City dinner, to which he had intended
+to go. He could not go. He was very much agitated:
+he knew that he could not endure the long constraint of that
+banquet. He was unfit, for the present, to bear the company
+of any one. Gloomy and melancholy was the pale face of
+this man, as if he were going to the funeral of his beloved,
+when he stepped from his door in the dark. Was he going
+to walk out to Mortlake, and shoot himself on the
+steps?</p>
+
+<p>As Mr. Longcluse walked into town, he caught a passing sight
+of a handsome young face that jarred upon him. It was that of
+Richard Arden, who was walking, also alone, not under any
+wild impulse, but to keep an appointment. This handsome face
+appeared for a moment gliding by, and was lost. Melancholy
+and thoughtful he looked, and quite unconscious of the near
+vicinity of his pale adversary. We shall follow him to his place
+of rendezvous.</p>
+
+<p>He walked quickly by Pall Mall, and down Parliament
+Street, into the ancient quarter of Westminster, turned into
+a street near the Abbey, and from it into another that ran
+toward the river. Here were tall and dingy mansions, some
+of which were let out as chambers. In one of these, in a
+room over the front drawing-room, Mr. Levi received his West-end
+clients; and here, by appointment, he awaited Sir Richard
+Arden.</p>
+
+<p>The young baronet, a little paler, and with the tired look of a
+man who was made acquainted with care, enters this room, hot
+with the dry atmosphere of gas-light. With his back towards
+the door, and his feet on the fender, smoking, sits Mr. Levi.
+Sir Richard does not remove his hat, and he stands by the
+table, which he slaps once or twice sharply with his stick.
+<a class="pagenum" name="Page_271" title="271"> </a>
+Mr. Levi turns about, looking, in his own phrase, unusually
+&ldquo;down in the mouth,&rdquo; and his big black eyes are glowing
+angrily.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Ho! Shir Richard Harden,&rdquo; he says, rising, &ldquo;I did not
+think we was sho near the time. Izh it a bit too soon?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;A little later than the time I named.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Crikey! sho it izh.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<div class="image-center chapter-end">
+<img src="images/ep03.png" width="197" height="121" alt=""/>
+</div>
+
+<div class="image-center chapter-beginning"><a class="pagenum" name="Page_272" title="272"> </a>
+<img src="images/ch09.png" width="464" height="77" alt=""/>
+</div>
+
+<h2 class="no-break">CHAPTER LVII.<br/>
+<small>LEVI'S APOLOGUE.</small></h2>
+
+<div><img class="drop-cap" src="images/drop_t.png" width="72" height="72" alt=""/></div>
+
+<p class="drop-cap"><span class="upper-case">The</span> room had once been a stately one. Three tall
+windows looked toward the street. Its cornices and
+door-cases were ponderous, and its furniture was
+heterogeneous, and presented the contrasts that might
+be expected in a broker's store. A second-hand Turkey carpet,
+in a very dusty state, covered part of the floor; and a dirty canvas
+sack lay by the door for people coming in to rub their feet
+on. The table was a round one, that turned on a pivot; it was
+oak, massive and carved, with drawers; there were two huge
+gilt arm-chairs covered with Utrecht velvet, a battered office-stool,
+and two or three bed-room chairs that did not match.
+There were two great iron safes on tressels. On the top of one
+was some valuable old china, and on the other an electrifying
+machine; a French harp with only half-a-dozen strings stood in
+the corner near the fire-place, and several dusty pictures of
+various sizes leaned with their faces against the wall. A jet of
+gas burned right over the table, and had blackened the ceiling
+by long use, and a dip candle, from which Mr. Levi lighted his
+cigars, burned in a brass candlestick on the hob of the empty
+grate. Over everything lay a dark grey drift of dust. And the
+two figures, the elegant young man in deep mourning, and the
+fierce vulgar little Jew, shimmering all over with chains, rings,
+pins, and trinkets, stood in a narrow circle of light, in strong
+relief against the dim walls of the large room.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;So you <em>will</em> want that bit o' money in hand?&rdquo; said Mr.
+Levi.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I told you so.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Don't you think they'll ever get tired helpin' you, if you keep
+pulling alwaysh the wrong way?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You said, this morning, I might reckon upon the help of
+<a class="pagenum" name="Page_273" title="273"> </a>
+that friend to any extent within reason,&rdquo; said Sir Richard, a
+little sourly.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Ye're goin' fashter than yer friendsh li-likesh; ye're goin'
+al-ash&mdash;ye're goin' a terrible lick, you are!&rdquo; said Mr. Levi,
+solemnly.</p>
+
+<p>His usually pale face was a little flushed; he was speaking
+rather thickly, and there came at intervals a small hiccough,
+which indicated that he had been making merry.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;That's my own affair, I fancy,&rdquo; replied Sir Richard, as
+haughtily as prudence would permit. &ldquo;You are simply an
+agent.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Wish shome muff would take it off my hands; 'shan
+agenshy tha'll bring whoever takesh it more tr-tr-ouble than tin.
+By my shoul I'll not keepsh long! I'm blowsh if I'll be fool any
+longer!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I'm to suppose, then, that you have made up your mind to
+act no longer for my friend, whoever that friend may be?&rdquo; said
+Sir Richard, who boded no good to himself from that step.</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Levi nodded surlily.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Have you drawn those bills?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Levi gave the table a spin, unlocked a drawer, and
+threw two bills across to Sir Richard, who glancing at them
+said,&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;The date is ridiculously short!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;How can I 'elp 't? and the interesht shlesh than nothin':
+sh-shunder the bank termsh f-or the besht paper going&mdash;I'm
+blesht if it ain't&mdash;it ain't f-fair interesh&mdash;the timesh short
+becaushe the partiesh, theysh&mdash;they shay they're 'ard hup, Shir,
+'eavy sharge to pay hoff, and a big purchashe in Austriansh!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;My uncle, David Arden, I happen to know, is buying
+Austrian stock this week; and Lady May Penrose is to pay off
+a charge on her property next month.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>The Jew smiled mysteriously.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You may as well be frank with me,&rdquo; added Sir Richard
+Arden, pleased at having detected the coincidence, which was
+strengthened by his having, the day before, surprised his uncle
+in conference with Lady May.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;If you don't like the time, why don't you try shomwhere
+else? why don't you try Lonclushe? There'sh a shwell! Two
+millionsh, if he's worth a pig! A year, or a month, 'twouldn't
+matter a tizhy to him, and you and him'sh ash thick ash two
+pickpockets!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You're mistaken; I don't choose to have any transactions
+with Mr. Longcluse.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>There was a little pause.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;By-the-bye, I saw in some morning paper&mdash;I forget which&mdash;a
+day or two ago, a letter attacking Mr. Longcluse for an
+<a class="pagenum" name="Page_274" title="274"> </a>
+alleged share in the bank-breaking combination; and there was
+a short reply from him.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I know, in the <cite>Timesh</cite>,&rdquo; interposed Levi.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; said Arden, who, in spite of himself, was always
+drawn into talk with this fellow more than he intended; such
+was the force of the ambiguously confidential relations in which
+he found himself. &ldquo;What is thought of that in the City?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;There'sh lotsh of opinionsh about it; not a shafe chap to
+quar'l with. If you rub Lonclushe this year, he'll tear you for
+itsh the next. He'sh a bish&mdash;a bish&mdash;a bit&mdash;bit of a bully, is
+Lonclushe, and don't alwaysh treat 'ish people fair. If you've
+quar'led with him, look oush&mdash;I shay, look oush!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Give me the cheque,&rdquo; said Sir Richard, extending his fingers.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Pleashe, Shir Richard, accept them billsh,&rdquo; replied Levi,
+pushing an ink-stand toward him, &ldquo;and I'll get our cheque
+for you.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>So Mr. Levi took the dip candle and opened one of the safes,
+displaying for a moment cases of old-fashioned jewellery, and a
+number of watches. I daresay Mr. Levi and his partner made
+advances on deposits.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Why don't you cut them confounded rasesh, Shir Richard?
+I'm bleshed if I didn't lose five pounds on the Derby myself!
+There'sh lotsh of field sportsh,&rdquo; he continued, approaching the
+table with his cheque-book. &ldquo;Didn't you never shee a ferret
+kill a rabbit? It'sh a beautiful thing; it takesh it shomeway
+down the back, and bit by bit it mendsh itsh grip, moving up
+to-<em>wards</em> the head. It <em>is</em> really beautiful, and not a shound
+from either, only you'll see the rabbitsh big eyes lookin' sho
+wonderful! and the ferret hangsh on, swinging this way and
+that like a shna-ake&mdash;'tish wery pretty!&mdash;till he worksh hish
+grip up to where the backbone joinish in with the brain; and then
+in with itsh teeth, through the shkull! and the rabbit givesh a
+screetch like a child in a fit. Ha, ha, ha! I'm blesht if it ain't
+done ash clever ash a doctor could do it. 'Twould make you
+laugh. That will do.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>And he took the bills from Sir Richard, and handed him two
+cheques, and as he placed the bills in the safe, and locked them
+up, he continued,&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;It <em>ish</em> uncommon pretty! I'd rayther shee it than a terrier
+on fifty rats. The rabbit's sho shimple&mdash;there'sh the fun of it&mdash;and
+looksh sho foolish; and every rabbit had besht look
+sharp,&rdquo; he continued, turning about as he put the keys in his
+pocket, and looking with his burning black eyes full on Sir
+Richard, &ldquo;and not let a ferret get a grip anywhere; for if he
+getsh a good purchase, he'll never let go till he hash his teeth in
+his brain, and then he'sh off with a shqueak, and there's an
+end of him.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p><a class="pagenum" name="Page_275" title="275"> </a>&ldquo;I can get notes for one of these cheques to-night?&rdquo; said
+Sir Richard.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;The shmall one, yesh, eashy,&rdquo; answered Mr. Levi. &ldquo;I'm a
+bachelor,&rdquo; he added jollily, in something like a soliloquy, &ldquo;and
+whenever I marry I'll be the better of it; and I'm no muff, and
+no cove can shay that I ever shplit on no one. And what do I
+care for Lonclushe? Not the snuff of this can'le!&rdquo; And he
+snuffed the dip scornfully with his fingers, and flung the
+sparkling wick over the bannister, as he stood at the door, to
+light Sir Richard down the stairs.</p>
+
+<div class="image-center chapter-end">
+<img src="images/ep04.png" width="232" height="128" alt=""/>
+</div>
+
+<div class="image-center chapter-beginning"><a class="pagenum" name="Page_276" title="276"> </a>
+<img src="images/ch02.png" width="466" height="125" alt=""/>
+</div>
+
+<h2 class="no-break">CHAPTER LVIII.<br/>
+<small>THE BARON COMES TO TOWN.</small></h2>
+
+<div><img class="drop-cap" src="images/drop_w.png" width="72" height="72" alt=""/></div>
+
+<p class="drop-cap drop-wide"><span class="upper-case">Weeks</span> flew by. The season was in its last throes:
+the session was within a day or two of its death.
+Lady May drove out to Mortlake with a project in
+her head.</p>
+
+<p>Alice Arden was glad to see her.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I've travelled all this way,&rdquo; she said, &ldquo;to make you come
+with me on Friday to the Abbey.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;On Friday? Why Friday, dear?&rdquo; answered Alice.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Because there is to be a grand oratorio of Handel's. It is
+for the benefit of the clergy's sons' school, and it is one that has
+not been performed in England for I forget how many years.
+It is <cite>Saul</cite>. You have heard the Dead March in Saul, of
+course; everyone has; but no one has ever heard the oratorio,
+and come you must. There shall be no one but ourselves&mdash;you
+and I, and your uncle and your brother to take care of us.
+They have promised to come; and Stentoroni is to take
+Saul, and they have the finest voices in Europe; and they say
+that Herr Von Waasen, the conductor, is the greatest musician
+in the world. There have been eight performances in that
+great room&mdash;oh! what do you call it?&mdash;while I was away; and
+now there is only to be this one, and I'm longing to hear it; but
+I won't go unless you come with me&mdash;and you need not dress.
+It begins at three o'clock, and ends at six, and you can come
+just as you are now; and an oratorio is really exactly the same as
+going to church, so you have no earthly excuse; and I'll send
+out my carriage at one for you; and you'll see, it will do you
+all the good in the world.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Alice had her difficulties, but Lady May's vigorous onset
+overpowered them, and at length she consented.</p>
+
+<p><a class="pagenum" name="Page_277" title="277"> </a>&ldquo;Does your uncle come out here to see you?&rdquo; asks Lady
+May.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Often; he's very kind,&rdquo; she replies.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;And Grace Maubray?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Oh, yes; I see her pretty often&mdash;that is, she has been here
+twice, I think&mdash;quite often enough.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Well, do you know, I never could admire Grace Maubray
+as I have heard other people do,&rdquo; says Lady May. &ldquo;There is
+something harsh and bold, don't you think?&mdash;something a
+little cruel. She is a girl that I don't think could ever be in
+love.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I don't know that,&rdquo; says Alice.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Oh! really?&rdquo; says Lady May, &ldquo;and who is it?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;It is merely a suspicion,&rdquo; says Alice.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Yes&mdash;but you think she likes some one&mdash;do, like a darling,
+tell me who it is,&rdquo; urges Lady May, a little uneasily.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You must not tell anyone, because they would say it was
+sisterly vanity, but I think she likes Dick.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Sir Richard?&rdquo; says Lady May, with as much indifference
+as she could.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Yes, I think she likes my brother.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Lady May smiles painfully.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I always thought so,&rdquo; she says; &ldquo;and he admires her, of
+course?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;No, I don't think he admires her at all. I'm certain he
+doesn't,&rdquo; said Alice.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Well, certainly he always does speak of her as if she
+belonged to Vivian Darnley,&rdquo; remarks Lady May, more
+happily.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;So she does, and he to her, I hope,&rdquo; said Alice.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Hope?&rdquo; repeated Lady May, interrogatively.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Yes&mdash;I think nothing could be more suitable.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Perhaps so; you know them better than I do.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Yes, and I still think Uncle David intends them for one
+another.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I would have asked Mr. Longcluse,&rdquo; Lady May begins, after
+a little interval, &ldquo;to use his influence to get us good hearing-places,
+but he is in such disgrace&mdash;is he still, or is there any
+chance of his being forgiven?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I told you, darling, I have really nothing to forgive&mdash;but I
+have a kind of fear of Mr. Longcluse&mdash;a fear I can't account
+for. It began, I think, with that affair that seemed to me like
+a piece of insanity, and made me angry and bewildered; and
+then there was a dream, in which I saw such a horrible scene,
+and fancied he had murdered Richard, and I could not get it
+out of my head. I suppose I am in a nervous state&mdash;and there
+were other things; and, altogether, I think of him with a kind
+<a class="pagenum" name="Page_278" title="278"> </a>
+of horror&mdash;and I find that Martha Tansey has an unaccountable
+dread of him exactly as I have; and even Uncle David says
+that he has a misgiving about him that he can't get rid of,
+or explain.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I can't think, however, that he is a ghost or even a
+malefactor,&rdquo; said Lady May, &ldquo;or anything worse than a very
+agreeable, good-natured person. I never knew anything more
+zealous than his good-nature on the occasion I told you of; and
+he has always approached you with so much devotion and
+respect&mdash;he seemed to me so sensitive, and to watch your
+very looks; I really think that a frown from you would have
+almost killed him.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Alice sighs, and looked wearily through the window, as if the
+subject bored her; and she said listlessly,&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Oh, yes, he was kind, and gentlemanlike, and sang nicely,
+I grant you everything; but&mdash;there is something ominous
+about him, and I hate to hear him mentioned, and with my
+consent I'll never meet him more.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Connected with the musical venture which the ladies were
+discussing, a remarkable person visited London. He had a
+considerable stake in its success. He was a penurious German,
+reputed wealthy, who ran over from Paris to complete arrangements
+about ticket-takers and treasurer, so as to ensure a
+system of check, such as would <ins title="made">make</ins> it next to impossible for
+the gentlemen his partners to rob him. This person was the
+Baron <ins title="Vanboeren">Vanboeren.</ins></p>
+
+<p>Mr. Blount had an intimation of this visit from Paris, and
+Mr. David Arden invited him to dine, of which invitation he took
+absolutely no notice; and then Mr. Arden called upon him in
+his lodging in St. Martin's Lane. There he saw him, this
+man, possibly the keeper of the secret which he had for twenty
+years of his life been seeking for. If he had a feudal ideal of
+this baron, he was disappointed. He beheld a short, thick
+man, with an enormous head and grizzled hair, coarse pug
+features, very grimy skin, and a pair of fierce black eyes, that
+never rested for a moment, and swept the room from corner
+to corner with a rapid and unsettled glance that was full of
+fierce energy.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;The Baron Vanboeren?&rdquo; inquires Uncle David courteously.</p>
+
+<p>The baron, who is smoking, nods gruffly.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;My name is Arden&mdash;David Arden. I left my card two days
+ago, and having heard that your stay was but for a few days, I
+ventured to send you a very hurried invitation.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>The baron grunts and nods again.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I wrote a note to beg the pleasure of a very short interview,
+and you have been so good as to admit me.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>The baron smokes on.</p>
+
+<p><a class="pagenum" name="Page_279" title="279"> </a>&ldquo;I am told that you possibly are possessed of information
+which I have long been seeking in vain.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Another nod.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Monsieur Lebas, the unfortunate little Frenchman who was
+murdered here in London, was, I <ins title="believe">believe,</ins> in your employment?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>The baron here had a little fit of coughing.</p>
+
+<p>Uncle David accepted this as an admission.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;He was acquainted with Mr. Longcluse?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Was he?&rdquo; says the baron, removing and replacing his pipe
+quickly.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Will you, Baron Vanboeren, be so good as to give me any
+information you possess respecting Mr. Longcluse? It is not, I
+assure you, from mere curiosity I ask these questions, and I
+hope you will excuse the trouble I give you.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>The baron took his pipe from his mouth, and blew out a thin
+stream of smoke.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I have heard,&rdquo; said he, in short, harsh tones, &ldquo;since I came
+to London, nosing but good of Mr. Longcluse. I have ze
+greadest respect for zat excellent gendleman. I will say nosing
+bud zat&mdash;ze greadest respect.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You knew him in Paris, I believe?&rdquo; urges Uncle David.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Nosing but zat&mdash;ze greadest respect,&rdquo; repeats the baron. &ldquo;I
+sink him a very worzy gendleman.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;No doubt, but I venture to ask whether you were acquainted
+with Mr. Longcluse in Paris?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Zere are a gread many beoble in Paris. I have nosing to
+say of Mr. Longcluse, nosing ad all, only he is a man of high
+rebudation.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>And on completing this sentence the baron replaced his pipe,
+and delivered several rapid puffs.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I took the liberty of enclosing a letter from a friend explaining
+who I am, and that the questions I should entreat you to
+answer are not prompted by any idle or impertinent curiosity;
+perhaps, then, you would be so good as to say whether you
+know anything of a person named Yelland Mace, who visited
+Paris some twenty years since?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I am in London, Sir, ubon my business, and no one else's. <ins title="I I">I</ins>
+am sinking of myself, and not about Mace or Longcluse, and I
+will not speak about eizer of zem. I am well baid for my dime.
+I will nod waste my dime on dalking&mdash;I will nod,&rdquo; he continues,
+warming as he proceeds; &ldquo;nosing shall induce me do say one
+word aboud zoze gendlemen. I dake my oas I'll not, mein Gott!
+What do you mean by asking me aboud zem?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>He looks positively ferocious as he delivers this expostulation.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;My request must be more unreasonable than it appeared to
+me.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p><a class="pagenum" name="Page_280" title="280"> </a>&ldquo;Nosing can be more unreasonable!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;And I am to understand that you positively object to giving
+me any information respecting the persons I have named?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>The baron appeared extremely uneasy. He trotted to the door
+on his short legs, and looked out. Returning, he shut the door
+carefully. His grimy countenance, under the action of fear,
+assumes an expression peculiarly forbidding; and he said, with
+angry volubility&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Zis visit must end, Sir, zis moment. Donnerwesser! I will
+nod be combromised by you. But if you bromise as a Christian,
+ubon your honour, never to mention what I say<span style="white-space: nowrap;">&mdash;&mdash;</span>&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Never, upon my honour.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Nor to say you have talked with me here in London<span style="white-space: nowrap;">&mdash;&mdash;</span>&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Never.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I will tell you that I have no objection to sbeak wis you,
+<em>privately</em> in Paris, whenever you are zere&mdash;now, now! zat is all.
+I will not have one ozer word&mdash;you shall not stay one ozer
+minude.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>He opens the door and wags his head peremptorily, and points
+with his pipe to the lobby.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You'll not forget your promise, Baron, when I call? for visit
+you I will.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I never forget nosing. Monsieur Arden, will you go or
+<em>nod</em>?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Farewell, Sir,&rdquo; says his visitor, too much excited by the
+promise opened to him, for the moment to apprehend what was
+ridiculous in the scene or in the brutality of the baron.</p>
+
+<div class="image-center chapter-end">
+<img src="images/ep27.png" width="282" height="67" alt=""/>
+</div>
+
+<div class="image-center chapter-beginning"><a class="pagenum" name="Page_281" title="281"> </a>
+<img src="images/ch01.png" width="441" height="84" alt=""/>
+</div>
+
+<h2 class="no-break">CHAPTER LIX.<br/>
+<small>TWO OLD FRIENDS MEET AND PART.</small></h2>
+
+<div><img class="drop-cap" src="images/drop_w.png" width="72" height="72" alt=""/></div>
+
+<p class="drop-cap drop-wide"><span class="upper-case">When</span> he was gone the Baron Vanboeren sat down and
+panted; his pipe had gone out, and he clutched it in
+his hand like a weapon and continued for some
+minutes, in the good old phrase, very much disordered.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;That old fool,&rdquo; he mutters, in his native German, &ldquo;won't
+come near me again while I remain in London.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>This assurance was, I suppose, consolatory, for the baron
+repeated it several times; and then bounced to his feet, and made
+a few hurried preparations for an appearance in the streets. He
+put on a short cloak which had served him for the last thirty
+years, and a preposterous hat; and with a thick stick in his
+hand, and a cigar lighted, sallied forth, square and short, to
+make Mr. Longcluse a visit by appointment.</p>
+
+<p>By this time the lamps were lighted. There had been a
+performance of <cite>Saul</cite>, a very brilliant success, although it pleased
+the baron to grumble over it that day. He had not returned
+from the great room where it had taken place more than an
+hour, when David Arden had paid his brief visit. He was now
+hastening to an interview which he thought much more
+momentous. Few persons who looked at that vulgar seedy
+figure, strutting through the mud, would have thought that the
+thread-bare black cloak, over which a brown autumnal tint had
+spread, and the monstrous battered felt hat, in which <ins title="a a">a</ins> costermonger
+would scarcely have gone abroad, covered a man worth
+a hundred and fifty thousand pounds.</p>
+
+<p>Man is mysteriously so constructed that he cannot abandon
+himself to selfishness, which is the very reverse of heavenly love,
+without in the end contracting <ins title="some some">some</ins> incurable insanity; and
+that insanity of the higher man constitutes, to a great extent, his
+mental death. The Baron Vanboeren's insanity was avarice;
+and his solitary expenses caused him all the sordid anxieties
+<a class="pagenum" name="Page_282" title="282"> </a>
+which haunt the unfortunate gentleman who must make both
+ends meet on five-and-thirty pounds a year.</p>
+
+<p>Though not <i lang="la" xml:lang="la">sui profusus</i>, he was <i lang="la" xml:lang="la">alieni appetens</i> in a very
+high degree; and his visit to Mr. Longcluse was not one of
+mere affection.</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Longcluse was at home in his study. The baron was
+instantly shown in. Mr. Longcluse, smiling, with both hands
+extended to grasp his, advances to meet him.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;My dear Baron, what an unexpected pleasure! I could
+scarcely believe my eyes when I read your note. So you have a
+stake in this musical speculation, and though it is very late, and,
+of course, everything at a disadvantage, I have to congratulate
+you on an immense success.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>The baron shrugs, shakes his head, and rolls his eyes dismally.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Ah, my friend, ze exbenses are enormous.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;And the receipts still more so,&rdquo; says Longcluse cheerfully;
+&ldquo;you must be making, among you, a mint of money.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Ah! Monsieur Longcluse, id is nod what it should be! zay
+are all such sieves and robbers! I will never escape under a loss
+of a sousand bounds.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You must be cheerful, my dear Baron. You shall dine with
+me to-day. I'll take you with me to half a dozen places of
+amusement worth seeing after dinner. To-morrow morning you
+shall run down with me to Brighton&mdash;my yacht is there&mdash;and
+when you have had enough of that, we shall run up again and
+have a whitebait dinner at Greenwich; and come into town
+and see those fellows, Markham and the other, that poor little
+Lebas saw play, the night he was murdered. You must see
+them play the return match, so long postponed. Next day we
+shall<span style="white-space: nowrap;">&mdash;&mdash;</span>&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Bardon, Monsieur, bardon! I am doo old. I have no
+spirits.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;What, not enough to see a game of billiards between
+Markham and Hood! Why, Lebas was charmed so far as he
+saw it, poor fellow, with their play.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;No, no, no, no, Monsieur; a sousand sanks, no, bardon, I
+cannod,&rdquo; says the baron. &ldquo;I do not like billiards, and your
+friends have not found it a lucky game.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Well, if you don't care for billiards, we'll find something
+else,&rdquo; replies hospitable Mr. Longcluse.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Nosing else, nosing else,&rdquo; answers the baron hastily. &ldquo;I
+hade all zese sings, ze seatres, ze bubbedshows, and all ze ozer
+amusements, I give you my oas. Did you read my liddle
+node?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I did indeed, and it amused me beyond measure,&rdquo; says
+Longcluse joyously.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Amuse!&rdquo; repeats the baron, &ldquo;how so?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p><a class="pagenum" name="Page_283" title="283"> </a>&ldquo;Because it is so diverting; one might almost fancy it was
+meant to ask me for fifteen hundred pounds.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I have lost, by zis sing, a vast deal more zan zat.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;And, my dear Baron, what on earth have I to do with
+that?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I am an old friend, a good friend, a true friend,&rdquo; says the
+baron, while his fierce little eyes sweep the walls, from corner to
+corner, with quivering rapidity. &ldquo;You would not like to see me
+quide in a corner. You're the richest man in England, almost;
+what's one sousand five hundred to you? I have not wridden to
+you, or come to England, dill now. You have done nosing for
+your old friend yet: what are you going to give him?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Not as much as I gave Lebas,&rdquo; said Longcluse, eyeing him
+askance, with a smile.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I don't know what you mean.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Not a napoleon, not a franc, not a sou.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You are jesding; sink, sink, sink, Monsieur, what a friend I
+have been and <em>am</em> to you.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;So I do, my dear Baron, and consider how I show my
+gratitude. Have I ever given a hint to the French police about
+the identity of the clever gentleman who managed the little
+tunnel through which a river of champagne flowed into Paris,
+under the barrier, duty free? Have I ever said a word about
+the confiscated jewels of the Marchioness de la Sarnierre?
+Have I ever asked how the Comte de Loubourg's little boy is,
+or directed an unfriendly eye upon the conscientious physician
+who extricates ladies and gentlemen from the consequences of late
+hours, nervous depression, and fifty other things that war against
+good digestion and sound sleep? Come, come, my good Baron,
+whenever we come to square accounts, the balance will stand
+very heavily in my favour. I don't want to press for a settlement,
+but if you urge it, by Heaven, I'll make you pay the
+uttermost farthing!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Longcluse laughs cynically. The baron looks very angry.
+His face darkens to a leaden hue. The fingers which he
+plunged into his snuff-box are trembling. He takes two or
+three great pinches of snuff before speaking.</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Longcluse watches all these symptoms of his state of mind
+with a sardonic enjoyment, beneath which, perhaps, is the sort
+of suspense with which a beast-tamer watches the eye of the
+animal whose fury he excites only to exhibit the coercion which
+he exercises through its fears, and who is for a moment doubtful
+<ins title="whther">whether</ins> its terrors or its fury may prevail.</p>
+
+<p>The baron's restless eyes roll wickedly. He puts his hand
+into his pocket irresolutely, and crumbles some papers there.
+There was no knowing, for some seconds, what turn things might
+take. But if he had for a moment meditated a crisis, he thought
+<a class="pagenum" name="Page_284" title="284"> </a>
+better of it. He breaks into a fierce laugh, and extends his hand
+to Mr. Longcluse, who as frankly places his own in it, and the
+baron shakes it vehemently. And Mr. Longcluse and he laugh
+boisterously and oddly together. The baron takes another great
+pinch of snuff, and then he says, sponging out as it were, as an
+ignored parenthesis, the critical part of their conversation&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;No, no, I sink not; no, no, surely not. I am not fit for all
+zose amusements. I cannot knog aboud as I used; an old
+fellow, you know: beace and tranquilidy. No, I cannot dine
+with you. I dine with Stentoroni to-morrow; to-day I have
+dined with our <i lang="it" xml:lang="it">tenore</i>. How well you look! What nose, what
+tees, what chin! I am proud of you. We bart good friends,
+<i lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">bon soir</i>, Monsieur Longcluse, farewell. I am already a liddle
+lade.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Farewell, dear Baron. How can I thank you enough for
+this kind meeting? Try one of my cigars as you go home.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>The baron, not being a proud man, took half-a-dozen, and
+with a final shaking of hands these merry gentlemen parted,
+and Longcluse's door closed for ever on the Baron Vanboeren.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;That bloated spider?&rdquo; mused Mr. Longcluse. &ldquo;How many
+flies has he sucked! It is another matter when spiders take to
+catching wasps.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Every man of energetic passions has within him a principle
+of self-destruction. Longcluse had his. It had expressed itself
+in his passion for Alice Arden. That passion had undergone a
+wondrous change, but it was imperishable in its new as in its
+pristine state.</p>
+
+<p>This gentleman was in the dumps so soon as he was left alone.
+Always uncertainty; always the sword of Damocles; always
+the little reminders of perdition, each one contemptible, but each
+one in succession touching the same set of nerves, and like the fall
+of the drop of water in the inquisition, <i lang="la" xml:lang="la">non vi, sed sæpe cadendo</i>,
+gradually heightening monotony into excitement, and excitement
+into frenzy. Living always with a sense of the unreality
+of life and the vicinity of death, with a certain stern tremor of
+the heart, like that of a man going into action, no wonder if he
+sometimes sickened of his bargain with Fate, and thought life
+purchased too dear on the terms of such a lease.</p>
+
+<p>Longcluse bolted his door, unlocked his desk, and there what
+do we see? Six or seven miniatures&mdash;two enamels, the rest on
+ivory&mdash;all by different hands; some English, some Parisian;
+very exquisite, some of them. Every one was Alice Arden.
+Little did she dream that such a gallery <ins title="exsited">existed</ins>. How were
+they taken? Photographs are the colourless phantoms from
+which these glowing life-like beauties start. Tender-hearted
+Lady May has in confidence given him, from time to time,
+several of these from her album; he has induced foreign artists
+<a class="pagenum" name="Page_285" title="285"> </a>
+to visit London, and managed opportunities by which, at parties,
+in theatres, and I am sorry to say even in church, these clever
+persons succeeded in studying from the life, and learning all the
+tints which now glow before him. If I had mentioned what
+this little collection cost him, you would have opened your eyes.
+The Baron Vanboeren would have laughed and cursed him with
+hilarious derision, and a money-getting Christian would have
+been quite horror-struck, on reading the scandalous row of
+figures.</p>
+
+<p>Each miniature he takes in turn, and looks at for a long time,
+holding it in both hands, his hands resting on the desk, his face
+inclined and sad, as if looking down into the coffin of his
+darling. One after the other he puts them by, and returns to
+his favourite one; and at last he shuts it up also, with a snap,
+and places it with the rest in the dark, under lock and key.</p>
+
+<p>He leaned back and laid his thin hand across his eyes. Was
+he looking at an image that came out in the dark on the retina
+of memory? Or was he shedding tears?</p>
+
+<div class="image-center chapter-end">
+<img src="images/ep04.png" width="232" height="128" alt=""/>
+</div>
+
+<div class="image-center chapter-beginning"><a class="pagenum" name="Page_286" title="286"> </a>
+<img src="images/ch26.png" width="444" height="86" alt=""/>
+</div>
+
+<h2 class="no-break">CHAPTER LX.<br/>
+<small>&ldquo;SAUL.&rdquo;</small></h2>
+
+<div><img class="drop-cap" src="images/drop_t.png" width="72" height="72" alt=""/></div>
+
+<p class="drop-cap"><span class="upper-case">The</span> day arrived on which Alice Arden had agreed to
+go with Lady May to Westminster Abbey, to hear
+the masterly performance of <cite>Saul</cite>. When it came
+to the point, she would have preferred staying at
+home; but that was out of the question. Every one has
+experienced that ominous forboding which overcomes us sometimes
+with a shapeless forecasting of evil. It was with that
+vague misgiving that she had all the morning looked forward to
+her drive to town, and the long-promised oratorio. It was a
+dark day, and there was a thunderous weight in the air, and the
+melancholy atmosphere deepened her gloom.</p>
+
+<p>Her Uncle David arrived in Lady May's carriage, to take care
+of her. They were to call at Lady May's house, where its mistress
+and Sir Richard Arden awaited them.</p>
+
+<p>A few kind words followed Uncle David's affectionate greeting,
+as they drove into town. He did not observe that Alice
+was unusually low. He seemed to have something not very
+pleasant himself to think upon, and he became silent for some
+time.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I want,&rdquo; said he at last, looking up suddenly, &ldquo;to give you
+a little advice, and now mind what I say. Don't sign any legal
+paper without consulting me, and don't make any promise to
+Richard. It is just possible&mdash;I hope he may not, but it is just
+possible&mdash;that he may ask you to deal in his favour with your
+charge on the Yorkshire estate. Do you tell him if he should,
+that you have promised me faithfully not to do anything in the
+matter, except as I shall advise. He may, as I said, never say
+a word on the subject, but in any case my advice will do you no
+harm. I have had bitter experience, my dear, of which I begin
+<a class="pagenum" name="Page_287" title="287"> </a>
+to grow rather ashamed, of the futility of trying to assist
+Richard. I have thrown away a great deal of money upon him,
+utterly thrown it away. <em>I</em> can afford it, but <em>you</em> cannot, and you
+shall not lose your little provision.&rdquo; And here he changed the
+subject of his talk, I suppose to avoid the possibility of discussion.
+&ldquo;How very early the autumn has set in this year! It is
+the extraordinary heat of the summer. The elms in Mortlake
+are quite yellow already.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>And so they talked on, and returned no more to the subject at
+which he had glanced. But the few words her uncle had spoken
+gave Alice ample matter to think on, and she concluded that
+Richard was in trouble again.</p>
+
+<p>Lady May did not delay them a moment, and Sir Richard got
+into the carriage after her, with the tickets in his charge. Very
+devoted, Alice thought him, to Lady May, who appeared more
+than usually excited and happy.</p>
+
+<p>We follow our party without comment into the choir, where
+they take possession of their seats. The chorus glide into
+their places like shadows, and the vast array of instrumental
+musicians as noiselessly occupy the seats before their desks.
+The great assembly is marshalled in a silence almost oppressive,
+but which is perhaps the finest preparation for the wondrous
+harmonies to come.</p>
+
+<p>And now the grand and unearthly oratorio has commenced.
+Each person in our little group hears it with different ears. I
+wonder whether any two persons in that vast assembly heard it
+precisely alike. Sir Richard Arden, having many things to
+think about, hears it intermittently as he would have listened to
+a bore, and with a secret impatience. Lady May hears it not
+much better, but felt as if she could have sat there for ever.
+Old David Arden enjoyed music, and is profoundly delighted
+with this. But his thoughts also begin to wander, for as the
+mighty basso singing the part of Saul delivers the words,</p>
+
+<div class="poetry">
+<div class="stanza">
+<div class="line">&ldquo;I would that, by thy art, thou bring me up<br/></div>
+<div class="line indent1">The man whom I shall name,&rdquo;<br/></div>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<p class="no-indent">David Arden's eye lighted, with a little shock, upon the
+enormous head and repulsive features of the Baron Vanboeren.
+What a mask for a witch! The travesti lost its touch of the
+ludicrous, in Uncle David's eye, by virtue of the awful interest
+he felt in the possible revelations of that ugly magician, who
+could, he fancied, by a word, call up the image of Yelland Mace.
+The baron is sitting about the steps in front of him, face to
+face. He wonders he has not seen him till now. His head is a
+little thrown back, displaying his short bull neck. His restless
+eyes are fixed now in a sullen reverie. His calculation as to the
+<a class="pagenum" name="Page_288" title="288"> </a>
+exact money value of the audience is over; he is polling them
+no longer, and his unresting brain is projecting pictures into the
+darkness of the future.</p>
+
+<p>His face in a state of apathy was ill-favoured and wicked, and
+now lighted with a cadaverous effect, by the dull purplish halo
+which marks the blending of the feeble daylight, with the glow
+of the lamp that is above him.</p>
+
+<p>The baron had seen and recognised David Arden, and a train
+of thoughts horribly incongruous with the sacred place was
+moving through his brain. As he looks on, impassive, the great
+basso rings out&mdash;</p>
+
+<div class="poetry">
+<div class="stanza">
+<div class="line">&ldquo;If heaven denies thee aid, seek it from hell.&rdquo;<br/></div>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<p class="no-indent">And the soprano sends forth the answering incantation, wild
+and piercing&mdash;</p>
+
+<div class="poetry">
+<div class="stanza">
+<div class="line">&ldquo;Infernal spirits, by whose power<br/></div>
+<div class="line indent3">Departed ghosts in living forms appear,<br/></div>
+<div class="line indent1">Add horror to the midnight hour,<br/></div>
+<div class="line indent3">And chill the boldest hearts with fear;<br/></div>
+<div class="line indent1">To this stranger's wondering eyes<br/></div>
+<div class="line indent3">Let the man he calls for rise.&rdquo;<br/></div>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<p>If Mr. Longcluse had been near, he might have made his
+own sad application of the air so powerfully sung by the alto to
+whom was committed the part of David&mdash;</p>
+
+<div class="poetry">
+<div class="stanza">
+<div class="line">&ldquo;Such haughty beauties rather move<br/></div>
+<div class="line indent1">Aversion, than engage our love.&rdquo;<br/></div>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<p class="no-indent">He might with an undivulged anguish have heard the adoring
+strain&mdash;</p>
+
+<div class="poetry">
+<div class="stanza">
+<div class="line">&ldquo;O lovely maid! thy form beheld<br/></div>
+<div class="line indent3">Above all beauty charms our eyes,<br/></div>
+<div class="line indent1">Yet still within that form concealed,<br/></div>
+<div class="line indent3">Thy mind a greater beauty lies.&rdquo;<br/></div>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<p>In a rapture Alice listened on. The famous &ldquo;Dead
+March&rdquo; followed, interposing its melancholy instrumentation,
+and arresting the vocal action of the drama by the pomp of that
+magnificent dirge.</p>
+
+<p>To her the whole thing seemed stupendous, unearthly,
+glorious beyond expression. She almost trembled with excitement.
+She was glad she had come. Tears of ecstasy were in
+her eyes.</p>
+
+<p><a class="pagenum" name="Page_289" title="289"> </a>And now, at length, the three parts are over, and the crowd
+begin to move outward. The organ peals as they shuffle slowly
+along, checked every minute, and then again resuming their
+slow progress, pushing on in those little shuffling steps of two
+or three inches by which well-packed crowds get along, every
+one wondering why they can't all step out together, and what
+the people in front can be about.</p>
+
+<p>In two several channels, through two distinct doors, this
+great human reservoir floods out. Sir Richard has undertaken
+the task of finding Lady May's carriage, and bringing it to a point
+where they might escape the tedious waiting at the door; and
+David Arden, with Lady May on one arm and Alice on the other,
+is getting on slowly in the thick of this well-dressed and
+aristocratic mob.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I think, Alice,&rdquo; said Uncle David, &ldquo;you would be more out
+of the crush, and less likely to lose me, if you were to get quite
+close behind us&mdash;do you see?&mdash;between Lady May and me, and
+hold me fast.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>The pressure of the stream was so unequal, and a front of
+three so wide, that Alice gladly adopted the new arrangement,
+and with her hand on her uncle's arm, felt safer and more comfortable
+than before.</p>
+
+<p>This slow march, inch by inch, is strangely interrupted. A
+well-known voice, close to her ear, says&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Miss Arden, a word with you.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>A pale face, with flat nose and Mephistophelian eyebrows,
+was stooping near her. Mr. Longcluse's thin lips were close to
+her ear. She started a little aside, and tried to stop. Recovering,
+she stretched her hand to reach her uncle, and found that
+there were strangers between them.</p>
+
+<div class="image-center chapter-beginning"><a class="pagenum" name="Page_290" title="290"> </a>
+<img src="images/ch23.png" width="443" height="83" alt=""/>
+</div>
+
+<h2 class="no-break">CHAPTER LXI.<br/>
+<small>A WAKING DREAM.</small></h2>
+
+<div><img class="drop-cap" src="images/drop_t.png" width="72" height="72" alt=""/></div>
+
+<p class="drop-cap"><span class="upper-case">There</span> is something in that pale face and <ins title="spectra">spectral</ins>
+smile that fascinates the terrified girl; she cannot
+take her eyes off him. His dark eyes are near hers;
+his lips are still close to her; his arm is touching
+her dress; he leans his face to her, and talks on, in an icy tone
+little above a whisper, and an articulation so sharply distinct
+that it seems to pain her ear.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;The oratorio!&rdquo; he continued: &ldquo;the music! The words,
+here and there are queer&mdash;a little sinister&mdash;eh? There are
+better words and wilder music&mdash;you shall hear them some
+day! Saul had his evil spirit, and a bad family have theirs&mdash;ay,
+they have a demon who is always near, and shapes
+their lives for them; they don't know it, but, sooner or later
+justice catches them. Suppose <em>I</em> am the demon of <em>your</em>
+family&mdash;it is very funny, isn't it? I tried to serve you both,
+but it wouldn't do. I'll set about the other thing now: the
+evil genius of a bad family; I'm appointed to that. It almost
+makes me laugh&mdash;such cross-purposes! You're frightened?
+That's a pity; you should have thought of that before. It
+requires some nerve to fight a man like me. I don't threaten
+you, mind, but you are frightened. There is such a thing
+as getting a dangerous fellow bound over to keep the peace.
+Try that. I should like to have a talk with you before his
+worship in the police-court, across the table, with a corps of
+clever newspaper reporters sitting there. What fun in the
+<cite>Times</cite> and all the rest next morning.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>It is plain to Miss Arden that Mr. Longcluse is speaking
+all this time with suppressed fury, and his countenance expresses
+a sort of smiling hatred that horrifies her.</p>
+
+<p><a class="pagenum" name="Page_291" title="291"> </a>&ldquo;I'm not bad at speaking my mind,&rdquo; he continues. &ldquo;It
+is unfortunate that I am so well thought of and listened to
+in London. Yes, people mind what I say a good deal. I
+rather think they'll choose to believe <em>my</em> story. But there's
+another way, if you don't like that. Your brother's not afraid&mdash;<em>he</em>'ll
+protect you. Tell your brother what a miscreant I am,
+and send him to me&mdash;do, pray! Nothing on earth I should
+like better than to have a talk with that young gentleman. Do
+pray, send him, I entreat. He'd like satisfaction&mdash;ha! ha!&mdash;and,
+by Heaven, I'll give it him! Tell him to get his pistols
+ready; he shall have his shop! Let him come to Boulogne,
+or where he likes&mdash;I'll stand <ins title="t">it</ins>&mdash;and I don't think he'll need
+to pay his way back again. He'll stay in France; he'll not
+walk in at your hall-door, and call for luncheon, I promise you.
+Ha! ha! ha!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>This pale man enjoys her terror cruelly.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I'm not worthy to speak to you, I believe&mdash;eh? That's
+odd, for the time isn't far off when you'll pray to God I may
+have mercy on you. You had no business to encourage me.
+I'm afraid the crowd is getting on very slowly, but I'll try to
+entertain you: you <em>are</em> such a good listener!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Miss Arden often wondered afterwards at her own passiveness
+through all this. There were, no doubt, close by, many
+worthy citizens, fathers of families, who would have taken her
+for a few minutes under their protection with honest alacrity.
+But it was a fascination; her state was cataleptic: and she
+could no more escape than the bird that is throbbing in the
+gaze of a snake. The cold murmur went distinctly on and
+on:</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Your brother will probably think I should treat you more
+ceremoniously. Don't you agree with him? Pray, do complain
+to him. Pray, send him to me, and I'll thank him for his share
+in this matter. He wanted to make it a match between us&mdash;I'm
+speaking coarsely, for the sake of distinctness&mdash;till a title
+turned up. What has become of the title, by-the-bye?&mdash;I don't
+see him here. The peer wasn't in the running, after all: didn't
+even start! Ha! ha! ha! Remember me to your brother,
+pray, and tell him the day will come when he'll not need to
+be reminded of me: I'll take care of that. And so Sir Richard
+is doomed to disappointment! It is a world of disappointment.
+The earl is nowhere! And the proudest family on earth&mdash;what
+is left of it&mdash;looks a little foolish. And well it may: it
+has many follies to expiate. You had no business encouraging
+me, and you are foolish enough to be terribly afraid now&mdash;ha!
+ha! ha! Too late, eh? I daresay you think I'll punish you!
+Not I! Nothing of the sort! I'll never punish anyone. Why
+should I take that trouble about you. Not I: not even your
+<a class="pagenum" name="Page_292" title="292"> </a>
+brother. Fate does that. Fate has always been kind to me,
+and hit my enemies pretty hard. You had no business encouraging
+me. Remember this: the day is not far off when you
+will <em>both</em> rue the hour you threw me over!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>She is gazing helplessly into that dreadful face. There
+is a cruel elation in it. He looks on her, I think, with admiration.
+Mixed with his hatred, did there remain a fraction
+of love?</p>
+
+<p>On a sudden the voice, which was the only sound she heard,
+was in her ear no longer. The face which had transfixed her
+gaze was gone. Longcluse had apparently pushed a way for
+her to her friends, for she found herself again next her
+Uncle David. Holding his arm fast, she looked round
+quickly for a moment: she saw Mr. Longcluse nowhere. She
+felt on the point of fainting. The scene must have lasted
+a shorter time than she supposed, for her uncle had not missed
+her.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;My dear, how pale you look! Are you tired?&rdquo; exclaims
+Lady May, when they have come to a halt at the door.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Yes, indeed, so she does. Are you ill, dear?&rdquo; added her
+uncle.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;No, nothing, thanks, only the crowd. I shall be better
+immediately.&rdquo; And so waiting in the air, near the door, they
+were soon joined by Sir Richard, and in his carriage he and she
+drove home to Mortlake. Lady May, taking hers, went to a
+tea at old Lady Elverstone's; and David Arden, bidding them
+good-bye, walked homeward across the park.</p>
+
+<p>Richard had promised to spend the evening at Mortlake with
+her, and side by side they were driving out to that sad and
+sombre scene. As they entered the shaded road upon which
+the great gate of Mortlake opens, the setting sun streamed
+through the huge trunks of the trees, and tinted the landscape
+with a subdued splendour.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I can't imagine, dear Alice, why you <em>will</em> stay here. It is
+enough to kill you,&rdquo; says Sir Richard, looking out peevishly on
+the picturesque woodlands of Mortlake, and interrupting a long
+silence. &ldquo;You never can recover your spirits while you stay
+here. There is Lady May going all over the world&mdash;I forget
+where, but she will be at Naples&mdash;and she absolutely longs to
+take you with her; and you won't go! I really sometimes think
+you want to make yourself melancholy mad.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I don't know,&rdquo; said she, waking herself from a reverie in
+which, against the dark background of the empty arches she
+had left, she still saw the white, wicked face that had leaned
+over her, and heard the low murmured stream of insult and
+menace. &ldquo;I'm not sure that I shall not be worse anywhere else.
+I don't feel energy to make a change. I can't bear the idea of
+<a class="pagenum" name="Page_293" title="293"> </a>
+meeting people. By-and-by, in a little time, it will be different.
+For the present, quiet is what I like best. But you, Dick, are
+not looking well, you seem so over-worked and anxious. You
+really do want a little holiday. Why don't you go to Scotland
+to shoot, or take a few weeks' yachting? All your business
+must be pretty well settled now.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;It will never be settled,&rdquo; he said, a little sourly. &ldquo;I assure
+you there never was property in such a mess&mdash;I mean leases
+and everything. Such drudgery, you have no idea; and I owe
+a good deal. It has not done me any good. I'd rather be as
+I was before that miserable Derby. I'd gladly exchange it all
+for a clear annuity of a thousand a year.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Oh! my dear Dick, you can't mean that! All the northern
+property, and this, and Morley?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I hate to talk about it. I'm tired of it already. I have
+been so unlucky, so foolish, and if I had not found a very good
+friend, I should have been utterly ruined by that cursed race;
+and he has been aiding me very generously, on rather easy
+terms, in some difficulties that have followed; and you know I
+had to raise money on the estate before all this happened, and
+have had to make a very heavy mortgage, and I am getting into
+such a mess&mdash;a confusion, I mean&mdash;and really I should have
+sold the estates, if it had not been for my unknown friend, for I
+don't know his name.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;What friend?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;The friend who has aided me through my troubles&mdash;the best
+friend I ever met, unless it be as I half suspect. Has anyone
+spoken to you lately, in a way to lead you to suppose that he, or
+anyone else among our friends, has been lending me a helping
+hand?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Yes, as <ins title="were">we were</ins> driving into town to-day, Uncle David told me
+so distinctly; but I am not sure that I ought to have mentioned
+it. I fancy, indeed,&rdquo; she added, as she remembered the reflection
+with which it was accompanied, &ldquo;that he meant it as a
+secret, so you must not get me into disgrace with him by
+appearing to know more than he has told you himself.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;No, certainly,&rdquo; said Richard; &ldquo;and he said it was he who
+lent it?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Yes, distinctly.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Well, I all but knew it before. Of course it is very kind of
+him. But then, you know he is very wealthy; he does not feel
+it; and he would not for the world that our house should lose
+its position. I think he would rather sell the coat off his back,
+than that our name should be slurred.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Sir Richard was pleased that he had received this light in
+corroboration of his suspicions. He was glad to have ascertained
+that the powerful motives which he had conjectured were
+<a class="pagenum" name="Page_294" title="294"> </a>
+actually governing the conduct of David Arden, although for
+obvious reasons he did not choose that his nephew should be
+aware of his weakness.</p>
+
+<p>The carriage drew up at the hall-door. The old house in the
+evening beams, looked warm and cheery, and from every window
+in its broad front flamed the reflection which showed like so
+many hospitable winter fires.</p>
+
+<div class="image-center chapter-end">
+<img src="images/ep03.png" width="197" height="121" alt=""/>
+</div>
+
+<div class="image-center chapter-beginning"><a class="pagenum" name="Page_295" title="295"> </a>
+<img src="images/ch02.png" width="466" height="125" alt=""/>
+</div>
+
+<h2 class="no-break">CHAPTER LXII.<br/>
+<small>LOVE AND PLAY.</small></h2>
+
+<div><img class="drop-cap" src="images/drop_h.png" width="73" height="73" alt=""/></div>
+
+<p class="drop-cap drop-wide"><span class="upper-case">&ldquo;Here</span> we are, Alice,&rdquo; says Sir Richard, as they
+entered the hall. &ldquo;We'll have a good talk this
+evening. We'll make the best of everything; and
+I don't see if Uncle David chooses to prevent it,
+why the old ship should founder after all.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>They are now in the house. It is hard to get rid of the sense
+of constraint that, in his father's time, he always experienced
+within those walls; to feel that the old influence is exorcised
+and utterly gone, and that he is himself absolute master where
+so lately he hardly ventured to move on tip-toe.</p>
+
+<p>They did not talk so much as Sir Richard had anticipated.
+There were upon his mind some things that weighed heavily.
+He had got from Levi a list of the advances made by his luckily
+found friend, and the total was much heavier than he had
+expected. He began to fear that he might possibly exceed the
+limits which his uncle must certainly have placed somewhere.
+He might not, indeed, allow him to suffer the indignity of a
+bankruptcy; but he would take a very short and unpleasant
+course with him. He would seize his rents, and, with a friendly
+roughness, put his estates to nurse, and send the prodigal on a
+Childe Harold's pilgrimage of five or six years, with an allowance,
+perhaps, of some three hundred a year, which in his frugal
+estimate of a young man's expenditure, would be handsome.</p>
+
+<p>While he was occupied in these ruminations, Alice cared not
+to break the silence. It was a very unsociable <i lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">tête-à-tête</i>.
+Alice had a secret of her own to brood over. If anything could
+have made Longcluse now more terrible to her imagination, it
+would have been a risk of her brother's knowing anything of the
+language he had dared to hold to her. She knew from her
+brother's own lips, that he was a duellist; and she was also
+<a class="pagenum" name="Page_296" title="296"> </a>
+persuaded that Mr. Longcluse was, in his own playful and
+sinister phrase, very literally a &ldquo;miscreant.&rdquo; His face, ever
+since that interview, was always at her right side, with its cruel
+pallor, and the vindictive sarcasm of lip and tone. How she
+wished that she had never met that mysterious man! What
+she would have given to be exempted from his hatred, and
+blotted from his remembrance!</p>
+
+<p>One object only was in her mind, distinctly, with respect to
+that person. She was, thank God, quite beyond his power.
+But men, she knew, live necessarily a life so public, and have so
+many points of contact, that better opportunities present themselves
+for the indulgence of a masculine grudge; and she
+trembled at the thought of a collision. Why, then, should not
+Dick seek a reconciliation with him, and, by any honourable
+means, abate that terrible enmity.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I have been thinking, Dick, that, as Uncle David makes the
+interest he takes in your affairs a secret, and you can't consult
+him, it would be very well indeed if you could find some one
+else able to advise, who would consult with you when you
+wished.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Of course, I should be only too glad,&rdquo; says Sir Richard,
+yawning and smiling as well as he could at the same time;
+&ldquo;but an adviser one can depend on in such matters, my dear
+child, is not to be picked up every day.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Poor papa, I think, was very wise in choosing people of that
+kind. Uncle David, I know, said that he made wonderfully
+good bargains about his mortgages, or whatever they are called.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I daresay&mdash;I don't know&mdash;he was always complaining, and
+always changing them,&rdquo; says Sir Richard. &ldquo;But if you can
+introduce me to a person who can disentangle all my complications,
+and take half my cares off my shoulders, I'll say you are
+a very wise little woman indeed.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I only know this&mdash;that poor papa had the highest opinion
+of Mr. Longcluse, and thought he was the cleverest person, and
+the most able to assist, of any one he knew.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Sir Richard Arden hears this with a stare of surprise.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;My dear Alice, you seem to forget everything. Why, Longcluse
+and I are at deadly feud. He hates me implacably.
+There never could be anything but enmity between us. Not
+that I care enough about <em>him</em> to hate him, but I have the worst
+opinion of him. I have heard the most shocking stories about
+him lately. They insinuate that he committed a murder! I
+told you of that jealousy and disappointment, about a girl he
+was in love with and wanted to marry, and it ended in <em>murder</em>!
+I'm told he had the reputation of being a most unscrupulous
+villain. They say he was engaged in several conspiracies to
+pigeon young fellows. He was the utter ruin, they say, of young
+<a class="pagenum" name="Page_297" title="297"> </a>
+Thornley, the poor muff who shot himself some years ago; and
+he was thought to be a principal proprietor of that gaming-house
+in Vienna, where they found all the apparatus for cheating so
+cleverly contrived.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;But are any of these things proved?&rdquo; urges Miss Arden.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I don't suppose he would be at large if they were,&rdquo; says Sir
+Richard, with a smile. &ldquo;I only know that I believe them.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Well, Dick, you know I reminded you before&mdash;you used not
+to believe those stories till you quarrelled with him.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Why, what do you want, Alice?&rdquo; he exclaims, looking hard
+at her. &ldquo;What on earth can you mean? And what can
+possibly make you take an interest in the character of such a
+ruffian?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Alice's face grew pale under his gaze. She cleared her voice
+and looked down; and then she looked full at him, with burning
+eyes, and said&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;It is because I am afraid of him, and think he may do you
+some dreadful injury, unless you are again on terms with him.
+I can't get it out of my head; and I daresay I am wrong, but
+I am sure I am miserable.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>She burst into tears.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Why, you darling little fool, what harm can he do me?&rdquo;
+said Richard fondly, throwing his arms about her neck and
+kissing her, as he laughed tenderly. &ldquo;He exhausted his utmost
+malice when he angrily refused to lend me a shilling in my
+extremity, or to be of the smallest use to me, at a moment when
+he might have saved me, without risk to himself, by simply
+willing it. <em>I</em> didn't ask him, you may be sure. An officious,
+foolish little friend, doing all, of course, for the best, <em>did</em>, without
+once consulting me, or giving me a voice in the matter, until he
+had effectually put his foot in it, as I told you. I would not for
+anything on earth have applied to him, I need not tell you; but
+it was done, and it only shows with what delight he would have
+seen me ruined, as, in fact, I should have been, had not my own
+relations taken the matter up. I do believe, Alice, the best
+thing I could do for myself and for you would be to marry,&rdquo; he
+says, a little suddenly, after a considerable silence.</p>
+
+<p>Alice looks at him, doubtful whether he is serious.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I really mean it. It is the only honest way of making or
+mending a fortune now-a-days.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Well, Dick, it is time enough to think of that by-and-by,
+don't you think?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Perhaps so; I hope so. At present it seems to me that, as
+far as I am concerned, it is just a race between the bishop and
+the bailiff which shall have me first. If any lady is good
+enough to hold out a hand to a poor drowning fellow, she had
+better<span style="white-space: nowrap;">&mdash;&mdash;</span>&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p><a class="pagenum" name="Page_298" title="298"> </a>&ldquo;Take care, Dick, that the poor drowning fellow does not
+pull her in. Don't you think it would be well to consider first
+what you have got to live on?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I have plenty to live on; I know that exactly,&rdquo; said Dick.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;What is it?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;My wife's fortune.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You are never serious for a minute, Dick! Don't you think
+it would be better first to get matters a little into order, so as to
+know distinctly what you are worth?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Quite the contrary; she'd rather not know. She'd rather
+exercise her imagination than learn distinctly what I am worth.
+Any woman of sense would prefer marrying me so.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I don't understand you.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Why, if I succeed in making matters quite lucid, I don't
+think she would marry me at <ins title="all,">all.</ins> Isn't it better to say, &lsquo;My
+Angelina,&rsquo; or whatever else it may be, &lsquo;you see before you Sir
+Richard Arden, who has estates in Yorkshire, in Middlesex, and
+in Devonshire, thus spanning all England from north to south.
+We had these estates at the Conquest. There is nothing
+modern about them but the mortgages. I have never been able
+to ascertain exactly what they bring in by way of rents, or pay
+out by way of interest. That I stand here, with flesh upon my
+bones, and pretty well-made clothes, I hope, upon both, is
+evidence in a confused way that an English gentleman&mdash;a
+baronet&mdash;can subsist upon them; and this magnificent muddle
+I lay at your feet with the devotion of a passionate admirer of
+your personal&mdash;property!&rsquo; That, I say, is better than appearing
+with a balance-sheet in your hand, and saying, &lsquo;Madam, I
+propose marrying you, and I beg to present you with a balance-sheet
+of the incomings and outgoings of my estates, the intense
+clearness of which will, I hope, compensate for the nature of
+its disclosures. I am there shown in the most satisfactory
+detail to be worth exactly fifteen shillings per annum, and how
+unlimited is my credit will appear from the immense amount
+and variety of my debts. In pressing my suit I rely entirely
+upon your love of perspicuity and your passion for arithmetic,
+which will find in the ledgers of my steward an almost inexhaustible
+gratification and indulgence.&rsquo; However, as you say,
+Alice, I have time to look about me, and I see you are tired.
+We'll talk it over to-morrow morning at breakfast. Don't think
+I have made up my mind; I'll do exactly whatever you like
+best. But get to your bed, you poor little soul; you do look so
+tired!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>With great affection they parted for the night. But Sir
+Richard did not meet her at breakfast.</p>
+
+<p>After she had left the room some time, he changed his mind,
+left a message for his sister with old <ins title="Crozier">Crozier,</ins> ordered his servant
+<a class="pagenum" name="Page_299" title="299"> </a>
+and trap to the door, and drove into town. It was not his good
+angel who prompted him. He drove to a place where he was
+sure to find high play going on, and there luck did not favour
+him.</p>
+
+<p>What had become of Sir Richard Arden's resolutions? The
+fascinations of his old vice were irresistible. The ring of the
+dice, the whirl of the roulette, the plodding pillage of whist&mdash;any
+rite acknowledged by Fortune, the goddess of his soul,
+was welcome to that keen worshipper. Luck was not always
+adverse; once or twice he might have retreated in comparative
+safety; but the temptation to &ldquo;back his luck&rdquo; and go on
+prevailed, and left him where he was.</p>
+
+<p>About a week after the evening passed at Mortlake, a black
+and awful night of disaster befel him.</p>
+
+<p>Every other extravagance and vice draws its victim on at a
+regulated pace, but this of gaming is an hourly trifling with life,
+and one infatuated moment may end him. How short had
+been the reign of the new baronet, and where were prince and
+princedom now?</p>
+
+<p>Before five o'clock in the morning, he had twice spent a
+quarter of an hour tugging at Mr. Levi's office-bell, in the
+dismal old street in Westminster. Then he drove off toward
+his lodgings. The roulette was whirling under his eyes whenever
+for a moment he closed them. He thought he was going
+mad.</p>
+
+<p>The cabman knew a place where, even at that unseasonable
+hour, he might have a warm bath; and thither Sir Richard
+ordered him to drive. After this, he again essayed the Jew's
+office. The cool early morning was over still quiet London&mdash;hardly
+a soul was stirring. On the steps he waited, pulling the
+office-bell at intervals. In the stillness of the morning, he
+could hear it distinctly in the remote room, ringing unheeded in
+that capacious house.</p>
+
+<div class="image-center chapter-end">
+<img src="images/ep09.png" width="218" height="46" alt=""/>
+</div>
+
+<div class="image-center chapter-beginning"><a class="pagenum" name="Page_300" title="300"> </a>
+<img src="images/ch23.png" width="443" height="83" alt=""/>
+</div>
+
+<h2 class="no-break">CHAPTER LXIII.<br/>
+<small>PLANS.</small></h2>
+
+<div><img class="drop-cap" src="images/drop_i.png" width="73" height="73" alt=""/></div>
+
+<p class="drop-cap drop-narrow"><span class="upper-case">It</span> was, of course, in vain looking for Mr. Levi there at
+such an hour. Sir Richard Arden fancied that he
+had, perhaps, a sleeping-room in the house, and on
+that chance tried what his protracted alarm might
+do.</p>
+
+<p>Then he drove to his own house. He had a latch-key, and
+let himself in. Just as he is, he throws himself into a chair in
+his dressing-room. He knows there is no use in getting into
+his bed. In his fatigued state, sleep was quite out of the
+question. That proud young man was longing to open his
+heart to the mean, cruel little Jew.</p>
+
+<p>Oh, madness! why had he broken with his masterly and
+powerful friend, Longcluse? Quite unavailing now, his repentance.
+They had spoken and passed like ships at sea, in
+this wide life, and now who could count the miles and billows
+between them! Never to cross or come in sight again!</p>
+
+<p>Uncle David! Yes, he might go to him; he might spread
+out the broad evidences of his ruin before him, and adjure him,
+by the God of mercy, to save him from the great public disgrace
+that was now imminent; implore of him to give him any
+pittance he pleased, to subsist on in exile, and to deal with the
+estates as he himself thought best. But Uncle David was
+away, quite out of reach. After his whimsical and inflexible
+custom, lest business should track him in his holiday, he had
+left no address with his man of business, who only knew that
+his first destination was Scotland; none with Grace Maubray,
+who only knew that, attended by Vivian Darnley, she and Lady
+May were to meet him in about a fortnight on the Continent,
+where they were to plan together a little excursion in Switzerland
+or Italy.</p>
+
+<p><a class="pagenum" name="Page_301" title="301"> </a>Sir Richard quite forgot there was such a meal as breakfast.
+He ordered his horse to the door, took a furious two hours' ride
+beyond Brompton, and returned and saw Levi at his office, at
+his usual hour, eleven o'clock. The Jew was alone. His large
+lowering eyes were cast on Sir Richard as he entered and
+approached.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Look, now; listen,&rdquo; says Sir Richard, who looks wofully
+wild and pale, and as he seats himself never takes his eyes off
+Mr. Levi. &ldquo;I don't care very much who knows it&mdash;I think I'm
+totally <em>ruined</em>.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>The Jew knows pretty well all about it, but he stares and
+gapes hypocritically in the face of his visitor as if he were
+thunderstruck, and he speaks never a word. I suppose he
+thought it as well, for the sake of brevity and clearness, to
+allow his client &ldquo;to let off the shteam&rdquo; first, a process which
+Sir Richard forthwith commenced, with both hands on the
+table&mdash;sometimes clenched, sometimes expanded, sometimes
+with a thump, by blowing off a cloud of oaths and curses, and
+incoherent expositions of the wrongs and perversities of fortune.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I don't think I can tell you how much it is. I don't
+know,&rdquo; says Sir Richard bleakly, in reply to a pertinent
+question of the Jew's. &ldquo;There was that rich fellow, what's his
+name, that makes candles&mdash;he's always winning. By Jove,
+what a thing luck is! He won&mdash;I know it is more than two
+thousand. I gave him I&nbsp;O&nbsp;U's for it. He'd be very glad, of
+course, to know me, curse him! I don't care, now, who does.
+And he'd let me owe him twice as much, for as long as I like.
+I daresay, only too glad&mdash;as smooth as one of his own filthy
+candles. And there were three fellows lending money there.
+I don't know how much I got&mdash;I was stupid. I signed whatever
+they put before me. Those things can't stand, by heavens;
+the Chancellor will set them all aside. The confounded
+villains! What's the Government doing? What's the Government
+about, I say? Why don't Parliament interfere, to smash
+those cursed nests of robbers and swindlers? Here I am,
+utterly robbed&mdash;I know I'm <em>robbed</em>&mdash;and all by that cursed
+temptation; and&mdash;and&mdash;and I don't know what cash I got, nor
+what I have put my name to!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I'll make out that in an hour's time. They'll tell me at the
+houshe who the shentleman wazh.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;And&mdash;upon my soul that's true&mdash;I owe the people there
+something too; it can't be much&mdash;it isn't much. And, Levi,
+like a good fellow&mdash;by Heaven, I'll <em>never</em> forget it to you, if
+you'll think of something. You've pulled me through so often;
+I am sure there's good-nature in you; you wouldn't see a
+fellow you've known so long driven to the wall and made a
+beggar of, without&mdash;without thinking of something.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p><a class="pagenum" name="Page_302" title="302"> </a>Levi looked down, with his hands in his pockets, and
+whistled to himself, and Sir Richard gazed on his vulgar
+features as if his life or death depended upon every variation of
+their expression.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You know,&rdquo; says Levi, looking up and swaying his
+shoulders a little, &ldquo;the old chap can't do no more. He's
+taken a share in that Austrian contract, and he'll want his
+capital, every pig. I told you lasht time. Wouldn't Lonclushe
+give you a lift?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Not he. He'd rather give me a shove under.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Well, they tell me you and him wazh very thick; and your
+uncle'sh man, Blount, knowshe him, and can just ashk him,
+from himself, mind, not from you.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;For money?&rdquo; exclaimed Richard.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Not at a&mdash;all,&rdquo; drawled the Jew impatiently. &ldquo;Lishen&mdash;mind.
+The old fellow, your friend<span style="white-space: nowrap;">&mdash;&mdash;</span>&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;He's out of town,&rdquo; interrupted Richard.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;No, he'sh not. I shaw him lasht night. You're a&mdash;all
+wrong. He'sh not Mr. David Harden, if that'sh what you mean.
+He'sh a better friend, and he'll leave you a lot of tin when he
+diesh&mdash;an old friend of the family&mdash;and if all goeshe shmooth
+he'll come and have a talk with you fashe to fashe, and tell you
+all his plansh about you, before a week'sh over. But he'll be at
+hish lasht pound for five or six weeksh to come, till the firsht
+half-million of the new shtock is in the market; and he shaid,
+&lsquo;I can't draw out a pound of my balanshe, but if he can get
+Lonclushe's na&mdash;me, I'll get him any shum he wantsh, and bear
+Lonclushe <ins title="harmlesh.&rdquo;">harmlesh.&rsquo;&rdquo;</ins></p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I don't think I can,&rdquo; said Sir Richard; &ldquo;I can't be quite
+sure, though. It is just possible he might.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Well, let Blount try,&rdquo; said he.</p>
+
+<p>There was another idea also in Mr. Levi's head. He had
+been thinking whether the situation might not be turned to
+some more profitable account, for him, than the barren agency
+for the &ldquo;friend of the family,&rdquo; who &ldquo;lent out money gratis,&rdquo;
+like Antonio; and if he did not &ldquo;bring down the rate of
+usance,&rdquo; at all events, deprived the Shylocks of London, in one
+instance at least, of their fair game.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;If he won't do that, there'sh but one chansh left.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;What is that?&rdquo; asked Sir Richard, with a secret flutter at
+his heart. It was awful to think of himself reduced to his last
+chance, with his recent experience of what a chance is.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Well,&rdquo; says Mr. Levi, scrawling florid capitals on the table
+with his office pen, and speaking with much deliberation, &ldquo;I
+heard you were going to make a very rich match; and if the
+shettlementsh was agreed on, I don't know but we might shee
+our way to advancing all you want.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p><a class="pagenum" name="Page_303" title="303"> </a>Sir Richard gets up, and walks slowly two or three times up
+and down the room.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I'll see about Blount,&rdquo; said he; &ldquo;I'll talk to him. I think
+those things are payable in six or eight days; and that tallow-chandler
+won't bother me to-morrow, I daresay. I'll go to-day
+and talk to Blount, and suppose you come to me to-morrow
+evening at Mortlake. Will nine o'clock do for you?
+I sha'n't keep you half-an-hour.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;A&mdash;all right, Shir&mdash;nine, at Mortlake. If you want any
+diamondsh, I have a beoo&mdash;ootiful collar and pendantsh, in
+that shaafe&mdash;brilliantsh. I can give you the lot three thoushand
+under cosht prishe. You'll wa&mdash;ant a preshent for the young
+la&mdash;ady.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Yes, I suppose so,&rdquo; said Sir Richard, abstractedly. &ldquo;To-morrow
+night&mdash;to-morrow evening at nine o'clock.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>He stopped at the door, looking silently down the stairs,
+and then without leave-taking or looking behind him, he ran
+down, and drove to Mr. Blount's house, close by, in Manchester
+Buildings.</p>
+
+<p>For more than a year the young gentleman whom we are
+following this morning had cherished vague aspirations, of
+which good Lady May had been the object. There was
+nothing to prevent their union, for the lady was very well
+disposed to listen. But Richard Arden did not like ridicule,
+and there was no need to hurry; and besides, within the last
+half-year had arisen another flame, less mercenary; also,
+perhaps, reciprocated.</p>
+
+<p>Grace Maubray was handsome, animated; she had that
+combination of air, tact, cleverness, which enter into the idea
+of <i lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">chic</i>. With him it had been a financial, but notwithstanding
+rather agreeable, speculation. Hitherto there seemed ample
+time before him, and there was no need to define or decide.</p>
+
+<p>Now, you will understand, the crisis had arrived, which
+admitted of neither hesitation nor delay. He was now at
+Blount's hall-door. He was certain that he could trust Blount
+with anything, and he meant to learn from him what <i lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">dot</i> his
+Uncle David intended bestowing on the young lady.</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Blount was at home. He smiled kindly, and took the
+young gentleman's hand, and placed a chair for him.</p>
+
+<div class="image-center chapter-beginning"><a class="pagenum" name="Page_304" title="304"> </a>
+<img src="images/ch06.png" width="442" height="85" alt=""/>
+</div>
+
+<h2 class="no-break">CHAPTER LXIV.<br/>
+<small>FROM FLOWER TO FLOWER.</small></h2>
+
+<div><img class="drop-cap" src="images/drop_m.png" width="72" height="73" alt=""/></div>
+
+<p class="drop-cap drop-wide"><span class="upper-case">Mr. Blount</span> was intelligent: he was an effective
+though not an artful diplomatist. He promptly
+undertook to sound Mr. Longcluse without betraying
+Sir Richard.</p>
+
+<p>Richard Arden did not allude to his losses. He took good
+care to appear pretty nearly as usual. When he confessed his
+<i lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">tendresse</i> for Miss Maubray, the grave gentleman smiled
+brightly, and took him by the hand.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;If <em>you</em> should marry the young lady, mark you, she will
+have sixty thousand pounds down, and sixty thousand more
+after Mr. David Arden's death. That is splendid, Sir, and I
+think it will please him <em>very</em> much.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I have suffered a great deal, Mr. Blount, by neglecting his
+advice hitherto. It shall be my chief object, henceforward, to
+reform, and to live as he wishes. I believe people can't learn
+wisdom without suffering.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Will you take a biscuit and a glass of sherry, Sir Richard?&rdquo;
+asked Mr. Blount.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Nothing, thanks,&rdquo; said Sir Richard. &ldquo;You know, I'm not
+as rich as I might have been, and marriage is a very serious
+step; and you are one of the oldest and most sensible friends
+I have, and you'll understand that it is only right I should be
+very sure before taking such a step, involving not myself only,
+but another who ought to be dearer still, that there should be
+no mistake about the means on which we may reckon. Are
+you quite sure that my uncle's intentions are still exactly what
+you mentioned?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Perfectly; he authorised me to say so two months ago, and
+on the eve of his departure on Friday last he repeated his
+instructions.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p><a class="pagenum" name="Page_305" title="305"> </a>Sir Richard, in silence, shook the old man very cordially by
+the hand, and was gone.</p>
+
+<p>As he drove to his house in May Fair, Sir Richard's thoughts,
+among other things, turned again upon the question, &ldquo;Who
+could his mysterious benefactor be?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Once or twice had dimly visited his mind a theory which,
+ever since his recent conversation with Mr. Levi, had been
+growing more solid and vivid. An illegitimate brother of his
+father's, Edwin Raikes, had gone out to Australia early in life,
+with a purse to which three brothers, the late Sir Reginald,
+Harry, and David, had contributed. He had not maintained
+any correspondence with English friends and kindred; but
+rumours from time to time reached home that he had amassed
+a fortune. His feelings to the family of Arden had always been
+kindly. He was older than Uncle David, and had well earned
+a retirement from the life of exertion and exile which had
+consumed all the vigorous years of his manhood. Was this
+the &ldquo;old party&rdquo; for whom Mr. Levi was acting?</p>
+
+<p>With this thought opened a new and splendid hope upon
+the mind of Sir Richard. Here was a fortune, if rumour
+spoke truly, which, combined with David Arden's, would
+be amply sufficient to establish the old baronetage upon a
+basis of solid magnificence such as it had never rested on
+before.</p>
+
+<p>It would not do, however, to wait for this. The urgency of
+the situation demanded immediate action. Sir Richard made
+an elaborate toilet, after which, in a hansom, he drove to Lady
+May Penrose's.</p>
+
+<p>If our hero had had fewer things to think about he would
+have gone first, I fancy, to Miss Grace Maubray. It could do
+no great harm, however, to feel his way a little with Lady May,
+he thought, as he chatted with that plump alternative of his
+tender dilemma. But in this wooing there was a difficulty of a
+whimsical kind. Poor Lady May was so easily won, and made
+so many openings for his advances, that he was at his wits' end
+to find evasions by which to postpone the happy crisis which
+she palpably expected. He did succeed, however; and with a
+promise of calling again, with the lady's permission, that evening,
+he took his leave.</p>
+
+<p>Before making his call at his uncle's house, in the hope of
+seeing Grace Maubray, he had to return to Mr. Blount, in
+Manchester Buildings, where he hoped to receive from that
+gentleman a report of his interview with Mr. Longcluse.</p>
+
+<p>I shall tell you here what that report related. Mr. Longcluse
+was fortunately still at his house when Mr. Blount called, and
+immediately admitted him. Mr. Longcluse's horse and groom
+were at the door; he was on the point of taking his ride. His
+<a class="pagenum" name="Page_306" title="306"> </a>
+gloves and whip were beside him on the table as Mr. Blount
+entered.</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Blount made his apologies, and was graciously received.
+His visit was, in truth, by no means unwelcome.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Mr. David Arden very well, I hope?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Quite well, thanks. He has left town.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Indeed! And where has he gone&mdash;the moors?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;To Scotland, but not to shoot, I think. And he's going
+abroad then&mdash;going to travel.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;On the Continent? How nice that is! What part?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Switzerland and Italy, I think,&rdquo; said Mr. Blount, omitting
+all mention of Paris, where Mr. Arden was going first to make
+a visit to the Baron Vanboeren.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;He's going over ground that I know very well,&rdquo; said Mr.
+Longcluse. &ldquo;Happy man! He can't quite break away from
+his business, though, I daresay.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;He never tells us where a letter will find him, and the consequence
+is his holidays are never spoiled.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Not a bad plan, Mr. Blount. Won't he visit the Paris
+Exhibition?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I rather think not.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Can I do anything for you, Mr. Blount?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Well, Mr. Longcluse, I just called to ask you a question. I
+have been invited to take part in arranging a little matter which
+I take an interest in, because it affects the Arden estates.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Is Sir Richard Arden interested in it?&rdquo; inquired Mr. Longcluse,
+gently and coldly.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Yes, I rather fancy he would be benefited.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I have had a good deal of unpleasantness, and, I might add,
+a great deal of ingratitude from that quarter, and I have made
+up my mind never again to have anything to do with him or his
+affairs. I have no unpleasant <em>feeling</em>, you understand; no resentment;
+there is nothing, of course, he could say or do that
+could in the least affect me. It is simply that, having coolly reviewed
+his conduct, I have quite made up my mind to aid in
+nothing in which he has act, part, or interest.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;It was not <em>directly</em>, but simply as a surety<span style="white-space: nowrap;">&mdash;&mdash;</span>&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;All the same, so far as I'm concerned,&rdquo; said Mr. Longcluse
+sharply.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;And only, I fancied, it might be, as Mr. David Arden is
+absent, and you should be protected by satisfactory joint
+security<span style="white-space: nowrap;">&mdash;&mdash;</span>&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I won't do it,&rdquo; said Mr. Longcluse, a little brusquely; and
+he took out his watch and glanced at it impatiently.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Sir Richard, I think, will be in funds immediately,&rdquo; said
+Mr. Blount.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;How so?&rdquo; asked Mr. Longcluse. &ldquo;You'll excuse me, as
+<a class="pagenum" name="Page_307" title="307"> </a>
+you press the subject, for saying <em>that</em> will be something
+new.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Well,&rdquo; said Mr. Blount, who saw that his last words had
+made an impression, &ldquo;Sir Richard is likely to be married, very
+advantageously, immediately.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Are settlements agreed on?&rdquo; inquired Mr. Longcluse, with
+real interest.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;No, not yet; but I know all about them.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;He is accepted then?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;He has not proposed yet; but there can be, I fancy, no
+doubt that the lady likes him, and all will go right.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Oh! and who is the lady?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I'm not at liberty to tell.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Quite right; I ought not to have asked,&rdquo; says Mr. Longcluse;
+and looks down, slapping at intervals the side of his
+trousers lightly with his whip. He raises his eyes to Mr.
+Blount's face, and looks on the point of asking another question,
+but he does not.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;It is my opinion,&rdquo; said Mr. Blount, &ldquo;the kindness would
+involve absolutely no risk whatever.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>There was a little pause. Mr. Longcluse looks rather dark and
+anxious; perhaps his mind has wandered quite from the business
+before them. But it returns, and he says,&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Risk or no risk, Mr. Blount, I don't mean to do him that
+kindness; and for how long will Mr. David Arden be
+absent?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Unless he should take a sudden thought to return, he'll be
+away at least two months.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Where is he?&mdash;in Scotland?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I <em>really</em> don't know.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Couldn't one see him for a few minutes before he starts?
+Where does he take the steamer?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Southampton.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;And on what day?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You really want a word with him?&rdquo; asked Blount, whose
+hopes revived.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I may.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Well, the only person who will know that is Mr. Humphries,
+of Pendle Castle, near that town; for he has to transact some
+trust-business with that gentleman as he passes through.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Humphries, of Pendle Castle. Very good; thanks.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Longcluse looks again at his watch.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;And perhaps you will reconsider the matter I spoke of?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;No use, Mr. Blount&mdash;not the least. I have quite made up
+my mind. Anything more? I am afraid I must be off.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Nothing, thanks,&rdquo; said Mr. Blount.</p>
+
+<p>And so the interview ended.</p>
+
+<p><a class="pagenum" name="Page_308" title="308"> </a>When he was gone, Mr. Longcluse thought darkly for a
+minute.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;That's a straightforward fellow, they say. I suppose the
+facts are so. It can't be, though, that Miss Maubray, that
+handsome creature with so much money, is thinking of marrying
+that insolent coxcomb. It may be Lady May, but the other is
+more likely. We must not allow <em>that</em>, Sir Richard. That would
+never do.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>There was a fixed frown on his face, and he was smiling in
+his dream. Out he went. His pale face looked as if he meditated
+a wicked joke, and, frowning still in utter abstraction, he
+took the bridle from his groom, mounted, looked about him as
+if just wakened, and set off at a canter, followed by his servant,
+for David Arden's house.</p>
+
+<p>Smiling, gay, as if no care had ever crossed him, Longcluse
+enters the drawing-room, where he finds the handsome young
+lady writing a note at that moment.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Mr. Longcluse, I'm so glad you've come!&rdquo; she says, with a
+brilliant smile. &ldquo;I was writing to poor Lady Ethel, who is
+mourning, you know, in the country. The death of her father
+in the house was so awfully sudden, and I'm telling her all the
+news I can think of to amuse her. And is it really true that old
+Sir Thomas Giggles has grown so cross with his pretty young
+wife, and objects to her allowing Lord Knocknea to make love
+to her?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Quite true. It is a very bad quarrel, and I'm afraid it can't
+be made up,&rdquo; said Mr. Longcluse.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;It must be very bad, indeed, if Sir Thomas can't make it
+up; for he allowed his first wife, I am told, to do anything she
+pleased. Is it to be a separation?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;At <em>least</em>. And you heard, I suppose, of poor old Lady
+Glare?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;No!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;She has been rolling ever so long, you know, in a sea of
+troubles, and now, at last, she has fairly foundered.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;How do you mean?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;They have sold her diamonds,&rdquo; said Mr. Longcluse. &ldquo;Didn't
+you hear?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;No! Really? Sold her diamonds? Good Heaven! Then
+there's nothing left of her but her teeth. I hope they won't sell
+them.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;It is an awful misfortune,&rdquo; said Mr. Longcluse.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Misfortune! She's utterly ruined. It was her diamonds
+that people asked. I am really sorry. She was such fun; she
+was so fat, and such a fool, and said such delicious things, and
+dressed herself so like a macaw. Alas! I shall never see her
+more; and people thought her only use on earth was to carry
+<a class="pagenum" name="Page_309" title="309"> </a>
+about her diamonds. No one seemed to perceive what a
+delightful creature she was. What about Lady May Penrose?
+I have not seen her since I came back from Cowes, the day
+before yesterday, and we leave London together on Tuesday.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Lady May! Oh! she is to receive a very interesting communication,
+I believe. She is one name on a pretty long and
+very distinguished list, which Sir Richard Arden, I am told, has
+made out, and carries about with him in his pocket-book.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You're talking riddles; pray speak plainly.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Well, Lady May is one of several ladies who are to be
+honoured with a proposal.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;And would you have me believe that Sir Richard Arden has
+really made such a fool of himself as to make out a list of eligible
+ladies whom he is about to ask to marry him, and that he has
+had the excellent good sense and taste to read this list to his
+acquaintance?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I mean to say this&mdash;I'll tell the whole story&mdash;Sir Richard
+has ruined himself at play; take that as a fact to start with.
+He is literally ruined. His uncle is away; but I don't think any
+man in his senses would think of paying his losses for him. He
+turns, therefore, naturally, to the more amiable and less arithmetical
+sex, and means to invite, in turn, a series of fair and
+affluent admirers to undertake, by means of suitable settlements,
+that interesting office for him.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I don't think you like him, Mr. Longcluse; is not that a
+story a little too like &lsquo;The Merry Wives of Windsor?&rsquo;&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;It is quite certain I don't like him, and it is quite certain,&rdquo;
+added Mr. Longcluse, with one of his cold little laughs, &ldquo;that
+if I did like him, I should not tell the story; but it is also certain
+that the story is, in all its parts, strictly fact. If you permit
+me the pleasure of a call in two or three days, you will tell me
+you no longer doubt it.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Longcluse was looking down as he said that with a gentle
+and smiling significance. The young lady blushed a little, and
+then more intensely, as he spoke, and looking through the
+window, asked with a laugh,&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;But how shall we know whether he really speaks to Lady
+May?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Possibly by his marrying her,&rdquo; laughed Mr. Longcluse. &ldquo;He
+certainly will if he can, unless he is caught and married on the
+way to her house.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;He was a little unfortunate in showing you his list, wasn't
+he?&rdquo; said Grace Maubray.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I did not say that. If there had been any, the least, confidence,
+nothing on earth could have induced me to divulge it.
+We are not even, at present, on speaking terms. He had the
+coolness to send a Mr. Blount, who transacts all Mr. David
+<a class="pagenum" name="Page_310" title="310"> </a>
+Arden's affairs, to ask me to become his security, Mr. Arden
+being away; and by way of inducing me to do so, he disclosed,
+with the coarseness which is the essence of business, the matrimonial
+schemes which are to recoup, within a few days, the
+losses of the roulette, the whist-table, or the dice-box.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Oh! Mr. Blount, I'm told, is a very honest man.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Quite so; particularly accurate, and I don't think anything
+on earth would induce him to tell an untruth,&rdquo; testifies Mr.
+Longcluse.</p>
+
+<p>After a little pause, Miss Maubray laughs.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;One certainly does learn,&rdquo; she said, &ldquo;something new every
+day. Could any one have fancied a <em>gentleman</em> descending to so
+gross a meanness?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Everybody is a gentleman now-a-days,&rdquo; remarked Mr.
+Longcluse with a smile; &ldquo;but every one is not a hero&mdash;they
+give way, more or less, under temptation. Those who stand the
+test of the crucible and the furnace are seldom met with.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>At this moment the door opened, and Lord Wynderbroke
+was announced. A little start, a lighting of the eyes, as Grace
+rose, and a fluttered advance, with a very pretty little hand
+extended, to meet him, testified, perhaps, rather more surprise
+than one would have quite expected. For Mr. Longcluse, who
+did not know him so well as Miss Maubray, recognised his
+voice, which was peculiar, and resembling the caw of a jay, as
+he put a question to the servant on his way up.</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Longcluse took his leave. He was not sorry that Lord
+Wynderbroke had called. He wished no success to Sir
+Richard's wooing. He thought he had pretty well settled the
+question in Miss Maubray's mind, and smiling, he rode at a
+pleasant canter to Lady May's. It was as well, perhaps, that
+she should hear the same story. Lady May, however, unfortunately,
+had just gone out for a drive.</p>
+
+<div class="image-center chapter-end">
+<img src="images/ep09.png" width="218" height="46" alt=""/>
+</div>
+
+<div class="image-center chapter-beginning"><a class="pagenum" name="Page_311" title="311"> </a>
+<img src="images/ch09.png" width="464" height="77" alt=""/>
+</div>
+
+<h2 class="no-break">CHAPTER LXV.<br/>
+<small>BEHIND THE ARRAS.</small></h2>
+
+<div><img class="drop-cap" src="images/drop_i.png" width="73" height="73" alt=""/></div>
+
+<p class="drop-cap drop-narrow"><span class="upper-case">It</span> was quite true that Lady May was not at home. She
+was actually, with a little charming palpitation, driving
+to pay a very interesting visit to Grace Maubray.
+In affairs of the kind that now occupied her mind,
+she had no confidants but very young people.</p>
+
+<p>Miss Maubray was at home&mdash;and instantly Lady May's
+plump instep was seen on the carriage step. She disdained
+assistance, and descended with a heavy skip upon the flags,
+where she executed an <ins title="involuutary">involuntary</ins> frisk that carried her a little
+out of the line of advance.</p>
+
+<p>As she ascended the stairs, she met her friend Lord Wynderbroke
+coming down. They stopped for a moment on the landing,
+under a picture of Cupid and Venus; Lady May, smiling, remarked,
+a little out of breath, what a charming day it was, and
+expressed her amazement at seeing him in town&mdash;a surprise
+which he agreeably reciprocated. He had been at Glenkiltie in
+the Highlands, where he had accidentally met Mr. David Arden.
+&ldquo;Miss Maubray is in the drawing-room,&rdquo; he said, observing that
+the eyes of the good lady glanced unconsciously upward at the
+door of that room. And then they parted affectionately, and
+turned their backs on each other with a sense of relief.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Well, my dear,&rdquo; she said to Grace Maubray as soon as they
+had kissed, &ldquo;longing to have a few minutes with you, with ever
+so much to say. You have no idea what it is to be stopped on
+the stairs by that tiresome man&mdash;I'll never quarrel with you
+again for calling him a bore. No matter, here I am; and
+really, my dear, it <em>is</em> such an odd affair&mdash;not quite that; such
+an odd scene, I don't know where or how to begin.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I wish I could help you,&rdquo; said Miss Maubray laughing.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Oh, my dear, you'd never guess in a hundred years.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p><a class="pagenum" name="Page_312" title="312"> </a>&ldquo;How do you know? Hasn't a certain baronet something to
+do with it?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Well, well&mdash;dear me! That is <em>very</em> extraordinary. Did he
+tell you he was going to&mdash;to&mdash;Good gracious! My dear, it <em>is</em>
+the most extraordinary thing. I believe you hear everything;
+but&mdash;a&mdash;but <em>listen</em>. Not an hour ago he came&mdash;Richard Arden,
+of course, we mean&mdash;and, my dear Grace, he spoke so very
+nicely of his troubles, poor fellow, you know&mdash;debts I mean, of
+course&mdash;not the least his fault, and all that kind of thing, and&mdash;he
+went on&mdash;I really don't know how to tell you. But he said&mdash;he
+said&mdash;he said he liked me, and no one else on earth; and
+he was on the very point of saying <em>everything</em>, when, just at
+that moment, who should come in but that gossiping old
+woman, Lady Botherton&mdash;and he whispered, as he was going,
+that he would return, after I had had my drive. The carriage
+was at the door, so, when I got rid of the old woman, I got into
+it, and came straight here to have a talk with you; and what
+do you think I ought to say? Do tell me, like a darling, do!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I wish you would tell <em>me</em> what one ought to say to that
+question,&rdquo; said Grace Maubray with a slight disdain (that young
+lady was in the most unreasonable way piqued), &ldquo;for I'm told
+he's going to ask me precisely the same question.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;<em>You</em>, my dear?&rdquo; said Lady May after a pause, during which
+she was staring at the smiling face of the young lady; <ins title="you">&ldquo;you</ins>
+can't be serious!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;<em>He</em> can't be serious, you mean,&rdquo; answered the young lady,
+&ldquo;and&mdash;who's this?&rdquo; she broke off, as she saw a cab drive up to
+the hall-door. &ldquo;Dear me! is it? No. Yes, indeed, it is Sir
+Richard Arden. We must not be seen together. He'll know
+you have been talking to me. Just go in here.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>She opened the door of the boudoir adjoining the room.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I'll send him away in a moment. You may hear every word
+I have to say. I should like it. I shall give him a lecture.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>As she thus spoke she heard his step on the stair, and
+motioned Lady May into the inner room, into which she hurried
+and closed the door, leaving it only a little way open.</p>
+
+<p>These arrangements are hardly completed when Sir Richard
+is announced. Grace is positively angry. But never had she
+looked so beautiful; her eyes so tenderly lustrous under their
+long lashes; her colour so brilliant&mdash;an expression so maidenly
+and sad. If it was acting, it was very well done. You would
+have sworn that the melancholy and agitation of her looks, and
+the slightly quickened movement of her breathing, were those
+of a person who felt that the hour of her fate had come.</p>
+
+<p>With what elation Richard Arden saw these beautiful signs!</p>
+
+<div class="image-center chapter-beginning"><a class="pagenum" name="Page_313" title="313"> </a>
+<img src="images/ch15.png" width="456" height="110" alt=""/>
+</div>
+
+<h2 class="no-break">CHAPTER LXVI.<br/>
+<small>A BUBBLE BROKEN.</small></h2>
+
+<div><img class="drop-cap" src="images/drop_a.png" width="72" height="73" alt=""/></div>
+
+<p class="drop-cap"><span class="upper-case">After</span> a few words had been exchanged, Grace said
+in reply to a question of Sir Richard's,&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Lady May and I are going together, you know:
+in a day or two we shall be at Brighton. I mean to
+bid Alice good-bye to-day. There&mdash;I mean at Brighton&mdash;we
+are to meet Vivian Darnley, and possibly another friend; and
+we go to meet your uncle at that pretty little town in Switzerland,
+where Lady May<span style="white-space: nowrap;">&mdash;&mdash;</span>I wonder, by-the-bye, you did not
+arrange to come with us; Lady May travels with us the entire
+time. She says there are some very interesting ruins there.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Why, dear old soul!&rdquo; said Sir Richard, who felt called upon
+to say something to set himself right with respect to Lady May,
+&ldquo;she's thinking of quite another place. She will be herself the
+only interesting ruin there.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I think you wish to vex me,&rdquo; said pretty Grace, turning
+away with a smile, which showed, nevertheless, that this kind of
+joke was not an unmixed vexation to her. &ldquo;I don't care for
+ruins myself.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Nor do I,&rdquo; he said, archly.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;But you don't think so of Lady May. I know you don't.
+You are franker with her than with me, and you tell her a very
+different tale.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I must be very frank, then, if I tell her more than I know
+myself. I never said a civil thing of Lady May, except once
+or twice, to the poor old thing herself, when I wanted her to do
+one or two little things, to please <em>you</em>.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Oh! come, you can't deceive me; I've seen you place your
+hand to your heart, like a theatrical hero, when you little fancied
+any one but she saw it.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Now, really, that is too bad. I may have put my hand to
+my side, when it ached from laughing.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p><a class="pagenum" name="Page_314" title="314"> </a>&ldquo;How can you talk so? You know very well I have heard
+you tell her how you admire her music and her landscapes.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;No, no&mdash;not landscapes&mdash;she paints faces. But her colouring
+is, as artists say, too chalky&mdash;and nothing but red and white,
+like&mdash;what is it like?&mdash;like a clown. Why did not she get the
+late Mr. Etty&mdash;she's always talking of him&mdash;to teach her something
+of his tints?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You are not to speak so of Lady May. You forget she is
+my particular friend,&rdquo; says the young lady; but her pretty face
+does not express so much severity as her words. &ldquo;I do think
+you like her. You merely talk so to throw dust in people's
+eyes. Why should not you be frank with me?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I wish I dare be frank with you,&rdquo; said Sir Richard.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;And why not?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;How can I tell how my disclosures might be punished?
+My frankness might extinguish the best hope I live for; a few
+rash words might make me a very unhappy man for life.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Really? Then I can quite understand that reflection alarming
+you in the midst of a <i lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">tête-à-tête</i> with Lady May; and even
+interrupting an interesting conversation.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Sir Richard looked at her quickly, but her looks were
+perfectly artless.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I really do wish you would spare me all further allusion to
+that good woman. I can bear that kind of fun from any one
+but you. Why will you? she is old enough to be my mother.
+She is fat, and painted, and ridiculous. You think me totally
+without romance? I wish to heaven I were. There is a reason,
+that makes your saying all that particularly cruel. I am not
+the sordid creature you take me for. I'm not insensible. I'm
+not a mere stock of stone. Never was human being more
+capable of the wildest passion. Oh, if I dare tell you all!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Was all this acting? Certainly not. Never was shallow
+man, for the moment, more in earnest. Cool enough he was,
+although he had always admired this young lady, when he
+entered the room. He had made that entrance, nevertheless,
+in a spirit quite dramatic. But Miss Maubray never looked
+so brilliant, never half so tender. He took fire&mdash;the situation
+aiding quite unexpectedly&mdash;and the flame was real. It might
+have been over as quickly as a balloon on fire; but for the
+moment the conflagration was intense.</p>
+
+<p>How was Miss Maubray affected? An immensely abler
+performer than the young gentleman who had entered the room
+with his part at his fingers' ends, and all his looks and emphasis
+arranged&mdash;only to break through all this, and begin extemporising
+wildly&mdash;she, on the contrary, maintained her <i lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">rôle</i>
+with admirable coolness. It was not, perhaps, so easy; for
+notwithstanding appearances, her histrionic powers were
+<a class="pagenum" name="Page_315" title="315"> </a>
+severely tasked; for never was she more angry. Her self-esteem
+was wounded; the fancy (it was no more), she had
+<ins title="herished">cherished</ins> for him was gone, and a great disgust was there
+<ins title="nstead">instead</ins>.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You shall ask me no questions till I have done asking
+mine,&rdquo; said the young lady, with decision; &ldquo;and I will speak
+as much as I please of Lady May!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>This jealousy flattered Sir Richard.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;And I will say this,&rdquo; continued Grace Maubray, &ldquo;you
+never address her except as a lover, in what you romantic
+people would call the language of love.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Now, now, now! How can you say that? Is that fair?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You do.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;No, really, I swear&mdash;that's <em>too</em> bad!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Yes, the other day, when you spoke to her at the carriage
+window&mdash;you did not think I heard&mdash;you accused her so
+tenderly of having failed to go to Lady Harbroke's garden-party,
+and you couldn't say what you meant in plain terms, but
+you said, &lsquo;Why were you false?&rsquo;&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I didn't, I swear.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Oh! you did; I heard every syllable; &lsquo;false&rsquo; was the
+word.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Well, if I said &lsquo;false,&rsquo; I must have been thinking of her
+hair; for she is really a very honest old woman.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>At this moment a female voice in distress is heard, and poor
+Lady May comes pushing out of the pretty little room, in which
+Grace Maubray had placed her, sobbing and shedding floods of
+tears.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I can't stay there any longer, for I hear everything; I can't
+help hearing every word&mdash;honest old woman, and all&mdash;opprobrious.
+Oh! how <em>can</em> people be so? how <em>can</em> they? Oh!
+I'm very angry&mdash;I'm very angry&mdash;I'm very angry!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>If Miss Maubray were easily moved to pity she might have
+been at sight of the big innocent eyes turned up at her, from
+which rolled great tears, making visible channels through the
+paint down her cheeks. She sobbed and wept like a fat, good-natured
+child, and pitifully she continued sobbing, &ldquo;Oh, I'm
+a-a-ho&mdash;very angry; wha-at shall I do-o-o, my dear? I-I'm
+very angry&mdash;oh, oh&mdash;I'm very a-a-angry!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;So am I,&rdquo; said Grace Maubray, with a fiery glance at the
+young baronet, who stood fixed where he was, like an image of
+death; &ldquo;and I had intended, dear Lady May, telling you a
+thing which Sir Richard Arden may as well hear, as I mean to
+write to tell Alice to-day; it is that I am to be married&mdash;I have
+accepted Lord Wynderbroke&mdash;and&mdash;and that's all.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Sir Richard, I believe, said &ldquo;Good-bye.&rdquo; Nobody heard
+him. I don't think he remembers how he got on his horse. I
+<a class="pagenum" name="Page_316" title="316"> </a>
+don't think the ladies saw him leave the room&mdash;only, he was
+gone.</p>
+
+<p>Poor Lady May takes her incoherent leave. She has got her
+veil over her face, to baffle curiosity. Miss Maubray stands at
+the window, the tip of her finger to her brilliant lip, contemplating
+Lady May as she gets in with a great jerk and swing of
+the carriage, and she hears the footman say &ldquo;Home,&rdquo; and sees
+a fat hand, in a lilac glove, pull up the window hurriedly. Then
+she sits down on a sofa, and laughs till she quivers again, and
+tears overflow her eyes; and she says in the intervals, <ins title="almos">almost</ins>
+breathlessly,&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Oh, poor old thing! I really am sorry. Who could have
+thought she cared so much? Poor old soul! what a ridiculous
+old thing!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Such broken sentences of a rather contemptuous pity rolled
+and floated along the even current of her laughter.</p>
+
+<div class="image-center chapter-end">
+<img src="images/ep03.png" width="197" height="121" alt=""/>
+</div>
+
+<div class="image-center chapter-beginning"><a class="pagenum" name="Page_317" title="317"> </a>
+<img src="images/ch24.png" width="466" height="100" alt=""/>
+</div>
+
+<h2 class="no-break">CHAPTER LXVII.<br/>
+<small>BOND AND DEED.</small></h2>
+
+<div><img class="drop-cap" src="images/drop_t.png" width="72" height="72" alt=""/></div>
+
+<p class="drop-cap"><span class="upper-case">The</span> summer span of days was gone; it was quite dark,
+and long troops of withered leaves drifted in rustling
+trains over the avenue, as Mr. Levi, observant of his
+appointment, drove up to the grand old front of
+Mortlake, which in the dark spread before him like a house of
+white mist.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I shay,&rdquo; exclaimed Mr. Levi, softly, arresting the progress
+of the cabman, who was about running up the steps, &ldquo;I'll knock
+myshelf&mdash;wait you there.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Levi was smoking. Standing at the base of the steps, he
+looked up, and right and left with some curiosity. It was too
+dark; he could hardly see the cold glimmer of the windows that
+reflected the <ins title="gray">grey</ins> horizon. Vaguely, however, he could see that
+it was a grander place than he had supposed. He looked down
+the avenue, and between the great trees over the gate he saw
+the distant lights, and heard through <ins title="the the">the</ins> dim air the chimes,
+far off, from London steeples, succeeding one another, or
+mingling faintly, and telling all whom it might concern the
+solemn lesson of the flight of time.</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Levi thought it might be worth while coming down in the
+day-time, and looking over the house and place to see what could
+be made of them; the thing was sure to go a dead bargain. At
+present he could see nothing but the wide, vague, grey front, and
+the faint glow through the hall windows, which showed their
+black outlines sharply enough.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Well, <em>he</em>'sh come a mucker, anyhow,&rdquo; murmured Mr. Levi,
+with one of his smiles that showed so wide his white sharp
+teeth.</p>
+
+<p><a class="pagenum" name="Page_318" title="318"> </a>He knocked at the door and rang the bell. It was not a footman,
+but Crozier who opened it. The old servant of the family did
+not like the greasy black curls, the fierce jet eyes, the sallow face
+and the large, moist, sullen mouth, that presented themselves
+under the brim of Mr. Levi's hat, nor the tawdry glimmer of
+chains on his waistcoat, nor the cigar still burning in his fingers.
+Sir Richard had told Crozier, however, that a Mr. Levi, whom
+he described, was to call at a certain hour, on very particular
+business, and was to be instantly admitted.</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Levi looks round him, and extinguishes his cigar before
+following Crozier, whose countenance betrays no small contempt
+and dislike, as he eyes the little man askance, as if he would
+like well to be uncivil to him.</p>
+
+<p>Crozier leads him to the right, through a small apartment, to
+a vast square room, long disused, still called the library, though but
+few books remain on the shelves, and those in disorder. It is a
+chilly night, and a little fire burns in the grate, over which Sir
+Richard is cowering. Very haggard, the baronet starts up as
+the name of his visitor is announced.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Come in,&rdquo; cries Sir Richard, walking to meet him. &ldquo;Here&mdash;here
+I am, Levi, utterly ruined. There isn't a soul I dare tell
+how I am beset, or anything to, but you. Do, for God's sake
+take pity on me, and think of something! my brain's quite gone&mdash;you're
+such a clever fellow&rdquo; (he is dragging Levi by the arm
+all this time towards the <ins title="candles">candles)</ins>: &ldquo;do now, you're sure to see
+some way out. It is a matter of <em>honour</em>; I only want time. If
+I could only find my Uncle David: think of his selfishness&mdash;good
+heaven! was there ever man so treated? and there's the
+bank letter&mdash;<em>there</em>&mdash;on the table; you see it&mdash;dunning
+me, the ungrateful harpies, for the trifle&mdash;what is it?&mdash;three
+hundred and something, I overdrew; and that blackguard tallow-chandler
+has been three times to my house in town, for payment
+to-day, and it's more than I thought&mdash;near four thousand, he
+says&mdash;the scoundrel! It's just the same to him two months
+hence; he's full of money, the beast&mdash;a fellow like that&mdash;it's
+delight to him to get hold of a gentleman, and he won't take a
+bill&mdash;the lying rascal! He is pressed for cash just now&mdash;a
+pug-faced villain with three hundred thousand pounds! Those
+scoundrels! I mean the people, whatever they are, that lent me
+the money; it turns out it was all but at sight, and they were
+with my attorney to-day, and they won't wait. I wish I was
+shot; I envy the dead dogs rolling in the Thames! By heaven;
+Levi, I'll say you're the best friend man ever had on earth, I
+will, if you manage something! I'll never forget it to you; I'll
+have it in my power, yet! no one ever said I was ungrateful; I
+swear I'll be the making of you! <em>Do</em>, Levi, think; you're
+accustomed to&mdash;to emergency, and unless you will, I'm
+<a class="pagenum" name="Page_319" title="319"> </a>
+utterly ruined&mdash;ruined, by heaven, before I have time to
+<ins title="think?">think!</ins>&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>The Jew listened to all this with his hands in his pockets,
+leaning back in his chair, with his big eyes staring on the wild
+face of the baronet, and his heavy mouth hanging. He was
+trying to reduce his countenance to vacancy.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;What about them shettlements, Sir Richard&mdash;a nishe young
+lady with a ha-a-tful o' money?&rdquo; insinuated Levi.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I've been thinking over that, but it wouldn't do, with my
+affairs in this state, it would not be honourable or straight. Put
+that quite aside.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Levi gaped at him for a moment solemnly, and turned
+suddenly, and, brute as he was, spit on the Turkey carpet. He
+was not, as you perceive, ceremonious; but he could not allow
+the baronet to see the laughter that without notice caught him
+for a moment, and could think of no better way to account for
+his turning away his head.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;That'sh wery honourable indeed,&rdquo; said the Jew, more solemn
+than ever; &ldquo;and if you can't play in that direction, I'm afraid
+you're in queer shtreet.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>The baronet was standing before Levi, and at these words
+from that dirty little oracle, a terrible chill stole up from his feet
+to the crown of his head. Like a frozen man he stood there, and
+the Jew saw that his very lips were white. Sir Richard feels, for
+the first time, actually, that he is ruined.</p>
+
+<p>The young man tries to speak, twice. The big eyes of the
+Jew are staring up at the contortion. Sir Richard can see
+nothing but those two big fiery eyes; he turns quickly away and
+walks to the end of the room.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;There's just one fiddle-string left to play on,&rdquo; muses the
+Jew.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;For God's sake!&rdquo; exclaims Sir Richard, turning about, in a
+voice you would not have known, and for fully a minute the
+room was so silent you could scarcely have believed that two
+men were breathing in it.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Shir Richard, will you be so good as to come nearer
+a bit? There, that'sh the cheeshe. I brought thish 'ere
+thing.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>It is a square parchment with a good deal of printed matter,
+and blanks, written in, and a law stamp fixed with an awful regularity,
+at the corner.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Casht your eye over it,&rdquo; says Levi, coaxingly, as he pushes it
+over the table to the young gentleman, who is sitting now at the
+other side.</p>
+
+<p>The young man looks at it, reads it, but just then, if it had
+been a page of &ldquo;Robinson Crusoe,&rdquo; he could not have understood
+it.</p>
+
+<p><a class="pagenum" name="Page_320" title="320"> </a>&ldquo;I'm not quite myself, I can't follow it; too much to think of.
+What is it?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;A bond and warrant to confess judgment.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;What is it for?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Ten thoushand poundsh.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Sign it, shall I? Can you do anything with it?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Don't raishe your voishe, but lishten. Your friend&rdquo;&mdash;and
+at the phrase Mr. Levi winked mysteriously&mdash;&ldquo;has enough to
+do it twishe over; and upon my shoul, I'll shwear on the book,
+azh I hope to be shaved, it will never shee the light; he'll never
+raishe a pig on it, sho' 'elp me, nor let it out of hish 'ands, till
+he givesh it back to you. He can't ma-ake no ushe of it; I
+knowshe him well, and he'll pay you the ten thoushand to-morrow
+morning, and he wantsh to shake handsh with you, and
+make himself known to you, and talk a bit.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;But&mdash;but my signature wouldn't satisfy him,&rdquo; began Sir
+Richard bewildered.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Oh! <em>no</em>&mdash;no, no?&rdquo; murmured Mr. Levi, fiddling with the
+corner of the bank's reminder which lay on the table.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Mr. Longcluse won't sign it,&rdquo; said Sir Richard.</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Levi threw himself back in his chair, and looked with a
+roguish expression still upon the table, and gave the corner of
+the note a little fillip.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Well,&rdquo; said Levi, after both had been some time silent, &ldquo;it
+ain't much, only to write his name on the penshil line, <em>there</em>, you
+see, and <em>there</em>&mdash;he shouldn't make no bonesh about it. Why,
+it's done every day. Do you think I'd help in a thing of the
+short if there was any danger? The Sheneral's come to town, is
+he? What are you afraid of? Don't you be a shild&mdash;ba-ah!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>All this Mr. Levi said so low that it was as if he were whispering
+to the table, and he kept looking down as he put the
+parchment over to Sir Richard, who took it in his hand, and the
+bond trembled so much that he set it down again.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Leave it with me,&rdquo; he said faintly.</p>
+
+<p>Levi got up with an unusual hectic in each cheek, and his
+eyes very brilliant.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I'll meet you what time you shay to-night; you had besht
+take a little time. It'sh ten now. Three hoursh will do it. I'll
+go on to my offish by one o'clock, and you come any time
+from one to two.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Sir Richard was trembling.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Between one and two, mind. Hang it! Shir Richard, don't
+you be a fool about nothing,&rdquo; whispers the Jew, as black as
+thunder.</p>
+
+<p>He is fumbling in his breast-pocket, and pulling out a sheaf of
+letters; he selects one, which he throws upon the parchment
+that lies open on the table.</p>
+
+<p><a class="pagenum" name="Page_321" title="321"> </a>&ldquo;That'sh the note you forgot in my offish yeshterday,
+<ins title="withhish">with hish</ins> name shined to it. There, now you have everything.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Without any form of valediction, the Jew had left the room.
+Sir Richard sits with his teeth set, and a strange frown upon his
+face, scarcely breathing. He hears the cab drive away. Before
+him on the table lie the papers.</p>
+
+<div class="image-center chapter-end">
+<img src="images/ep03.png" width="197" height="121" alt=""/>
+</div>
+
+<div class="image-center chapter-beginning"><a class="pagenum" name="Page_322" title="322"> </a>
+<img src="images/ch04.png" width="464" height="79" alt=""/>
+</div>
+
+<h2 class="no-break">CHAPTER LXVIII.<br/>
+<small>SIR RICHARD'S RESOLUTION.</small></h2>
+
+<div><img class="drop-cap" src="images/drop_t.png" width="72" height="72" alt=""/></div>
+
+<p class="drop-cap"><span class="upper-case">Two</span> hours had passed, and more, of solitude. With a
+candle in his hand, and his hat and great-coat on,
+Sir Richard Arden came out into the hall. His trap
+awaited him at the door.</p>
+
+<p>In the interval of his solitude, something incredible has happened
+to him. It is over. A spectral secret accompanies him
+henceforward. A devil sits in his pocket, in that parchment.
+He dares not think of himself. Something sufficient to shake
+the world of London, and set all English Christian tongues
+throughout the earth wagging on one theme, has happened.</p>
+
+<p>Does he repent? One thing is certain: he dares not falter.
+Something within him once or twice commanded him to throw
+his crime into the fire, while yet it is obliterable. But what
+then? what of to-morrow? Into that sheer black sea of ruin,
+that reels and yawns as deep as eye can fathom beneath him,
+he must dive and see the light no more. Better his chance.</p>
+
+<p>He won't think of what he has done, of what he is going to
+do. He suspects his courage: he dares not tempt his cowardice.
+Braver, perhaps, it would have been to meet the worst at
+once. But surely, according to the theory of chances, we have
+played the true game. Is not a little time gained, everything?
+Are we not in friendly hands? Has not that little scoundrel
+committed himself, by an all but actual participation in the
+affair? It can never come to <em>that</em>. &ldquo;I have only to confess,
+and throw myself at Uncle David's feet, and the one dangerous
+debt would instantly be brought up and cancelled.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>These thoughts came vaguely, and on his heart lay an all but
+insupportable load. The sight of the staircase reminded him
+that Alice must long since have gone to her room. He yearned
+to see her and say good-night. It was the last farewell that the
+brother she had known from her childhood till now should ever
+<a class="pagenum" name="Page_323" title="323"> </a>
+speak or look. That brother was to die to-night, and a spirit
+of guilt to come in his stead.</p>
+
+<p>He taps lightly at her door. She is asleep. He opens it, and
+dimly sees her innocent head upon the pillow. If his shadow
+were cast upon her dream, what an image would she have seen
+looking in at the door! A sudden horror seizes him&mdash;he draws
+back and closes the door; on the lobby he pauses. It was a
+last moment of grace. He stole down the stairs, mounted his
+tax-cart, took the reins from his servant in silence, and drove
+swiftly into town. In Parliament Street, near the corner of the
+street leading to Levi's office, they passed a policeman, lounging
+on the flagway. Richard Arden is in a strangely nervous state;
+he fancies he will stop and question him, and he touches the
+horse with the whip to get quickly by.</p>
+
+<p>In his breast-pocket he carried his ghastly secret. A pretty
+business if he happened to be thrown out, and a policeman
+should make an inventory of his papers, as he lay insensible in
+an hospital&mdash;a pleasant thing if he were robbed in these
+villanous streets, and the bond advertised, for a reward, by a
+pretended finder. A nice thing, good heaven! if it should
+wriggle and slip its way out of his pocket, in the jolting and
+tremble of the drive, and fall into London hands, either rascally
+or severe. He pulled up, and gave the reins to the servant, and
+felt, however gratefully, with his fingers, the crisp crumple of the
+parchment under the cloth! Did his servant look at him oddly
+as he gave him the reins? Not he; but Sir Richard began to
+suspect him and everything. He made him stop near the angle
+of the street, and there he got down, telling him rather savagely&mdash;for
+his fancied look was still in the baronet's brain&mdash;not to
+move an inch from that spot.</p>
+
+<p>It was half-past one as his steps echoed down the street in
+which Mr. Levi had his office. There was a figure leaning with
+its back in the recess of Levi's door, smoking. Sir Richard's
+temper was growing exasperated.</p>
+
+<p>It was Levi himself. Upstairs they stumble in the dark. Mr.
+Levi has not said a word. He is not treating his visitor with
+much ceremony. He lets himself into his office, secured with a
+heavy iron bar, and a lock that makes a great clang, and proceeds
+to light a candle. The flame expands and the light shows
+well-barred shutters, and the familiar objects.</p>
+
+<p>When Mr. Levi had lighted a second candle, he fixed his great
+black eyes on the young baronet, who glances over his shoulder
+at the door, but the Jew has secured it. Their eyes meet for a
+moment, and Sir Richard places his hand nervously in his
+breast-pocket and takes out the parchment. Levi nods and
+extends his hand. Each now holds it by a corner, and as Sir
+Richard lets it go hesitatingly, he says faintly&mdash;</p>
+
+<p><a class="pagenum" name="Page_324" title="324"> </a>&ldquo;Levi, you wouldn't&mdash;you could not run any risk with that?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Levi stands by his great iron safe, with the big key in his
+hand. He nods in reply, and locking up the document, he
+knocks his knuckles on the iron door, with a long and solemn
+wink.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;<em>Sha-afe!</em>&mdash;that'sh the word,&rdquo; says he, and then he drops the
+keys into his pocket again.</p>
+
+<p>There was a silence of a minute or more. A spell was stealing
+over them; an influence was in the room. Each eyed the
+other, shrinkingly, as a man might eye an assassin. The Jew
+knew that there was danger in that silence; and yet he could not
+break it. He could not disturb the influence acting on Richard
+Arden's mind. It was his good angel's last pleading, before the
+long farewell.</p>
+
+<p>In a dreadful whisper Richard Arden speaks:&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Give me that parchment back,&rdquo; says he.</p>
+
+<p>Satan finds his tongue again.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Give it back?&rdquo; repeats Levi, and a pause ensues. &ldquo;Of
+course I'll give it back; and I wash my hands of it and you,
+and you're throwing away ten thoushand poundsh for <em>nothing</em>.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Levi was taking out his keys as he spoke, and as he fumbled
+them over one by one, he said&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You'll want a lawyer in the Insholwent Court, and you'd find
+Mishter Sholomonsh azh shatisfactory a shengleman azh any in
+London. He'sh an auctioneer, too; and there'sh no good in
+your meetin' that friendly cove here to-morrow, for he'sh one o'
+them honourable chaps, and he'll never look at you after your
+schedule's lodged, and the shooner that'sh done the better; and
+them women we was courting, won't they laugh!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Hereupon, with great alacrity, Mr. Levi began to apply the
+key to the lock.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Don't mind. Keep it; and mind, you d<span style="white-space: nowrap;">&mdash;&mdash;</span>d little swindler,
+so sure as you stand there, if you play me a trick, I'll blow your
+brains out, if it were in the police-office!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Levi looked hard at him, and nodded. He was
+accustomed to excited language in certain situations.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Well,&rdquo; said he coolly, a second time returning the keys to his
+pocket, &ldquo;your friend will be here at twelve to-morrow, and if
+you please him as well as he expects, who knows wha-at may
+be? If he leavesh you half hish money, you'll not 'ave many
+bill transhactionsh on your handsh.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;May God Almighty have mercy on me!&rdquo; groans Sir Richard,
+hardly above his breath.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You shall have the cheques then. He'll be here all right.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I&mdash;I forget; did you say an hour?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Levi repeats the hour. Sir Richard walks slowly to the stairs,
+down which Levi lights him. Neither speaks.</p>
+
+<p><a class="pagenum" name="Page_325" title="325"> </a>In a few minutes more the young gentleman is driving rapidly
+to his town house, where he means to end that long-remembered
+night.</p>
+
+<p>When he had got to his room, and dismissed his valet, he sat
+down. He looked round, and wondered how collected he now
+was. The situation seemed like a dream, or his sense of danger
+had grown torpid. He could not account for the strange indifference
+that had come over him. He got quickly into bed.
+It was late, and he exhausted, and aided, I know not by what
+narcotic, he slept a constrained, odd sleep&mdash;black as Erebus&mdash;the
+thread of which snaps suddenly, and he is awake with a
+heart beating fast, as if from a sudden start. A hard bitter
+voice has said close by the pillow, &ldquo;You are the first Arden that
+ever did that!&rdquo; and with these words grating in his ears, he
+awoke, and had a confused remembrance of having been dreaming
+of his father.</p>
+
+<p>Another dream, later on, startled him still more. He was in
+Levi's office, and while they were talking over the horrid document,
+in a moment it blew out of the window; and a lean, ill-looking
+man, in a black coat, like the famous person who, in old
+woodcuts, picked up the shadow of Peter Schlemel, caught the
+parchment from the pavement, and with his eyes fixed corner-wise
+upon him, and a dreadful smile, tapped his long finger on
+the bond, and with wide paces stepped swiftly away with it in
+his hand.</p>
+
+<p>Richard Arden started up in his bed; the cold moisture of
+terror was upon his forehead, and for a moment he did not
+know where he was, or how much of his vision was
+real. The grey twilight of early morning was over the town.
+He welcomed the light; he opened the window-shutters wide.
+He looked from the window down upon the street. A lean man
+with tattered black, with a hammer in his hand, just as the
+man in his dream had held the roll of parchment, was slowly
+stepping with long strides away from his house, along the street.</p>
+
+<p>As his thoughts cleared, his panic increased. Nothing had
+happened between the time of his lying down and his up-rising
+to alter his situation, and the same room sees him now half
+mad.</p>
+
+<div class="image-center chapter-end">
+<img src="images/ep28.png" width="282" height="67" alt=""/>
+</div>
+
+<div class="image-center chapter-beginning"><a class="pagenum" name="Page_326" title="326"> </a>
+<img src="images/ch09.png" width="464" height="77" alt=""/>
+</div>
+
+<h2 class="no-break">CHAPTER LXIX.<br/>
+<small>THE MEETING.</small></h2>
+
+<div><img class="drop-cap" src="images/drop_n.png" width="72" height="72" alt=""/></div>
+
+<p class="drop-cap"><span class="upper-case">Near</span> the appointed hour, he walked across the park,
+and through the Horse Guards, and in a few
+minutes more was between the tall old-fashioned
+houses of the street in which Mr. Levi's office is
+to be found. He passes by a dingy hired coach, with a
+tarnished crest on the door, and sees two Jewish-looking
+men inside, both smiling over some sly joke. Whose door
+are they waiting at? He supposes another Jewish office seeks
+the shade of that pensive street.</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Levi opened his office door for his handsome client.
+They were quite to themselves. Mr. Levi did not look well.
+He received him with a nod. He shut the door when Sir
+Richard was in the room.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;He'sh not come yet. We'll talk to him inshide.&rdquo; He indicates
+the door of the inner room, with a little side jerk of his
+head. &ldquo;That'sh private. He hazh that&mdash;<em>thing</em> all right.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Sir Richard says nothing. He follows Levi into a small inner
+room, which had, perhaps, originally been a lady's boudoir, and
+had afterwards, one might have conjectured, served as the
+treasury of cash and jewels of a pawn-office; for its door was
+secured with iron bars, and two great locks, and the windows
+were well barred with iron. There were two huge iron safes in
+the room, built into the wall.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I'll show you a beauty of a dresshing-ca-ashe,&rdquo; said Levi,
+rousing himself; &ldquo;I'll shell it a dead bargain, and give time for
+half, if you knowsh any young shwell as wantsh such a harticle.
+Look here; it was made for the Duchess of Horleans&mdash;all in
+gold, hemerald, and brilliantsh.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>And thus haranguing, he displayed its contents, and turned
+them over, staring on them with a livid admiration. Sir
+<a class="pagenum" name="Page_327" title="327"> </a>
+Richard is not thinking of the duchess's dressing-case, nor is
+he much more interested when Mr. Levi goes on to tell him,
+&ldquo;There'sh three executions against peersh out thish week&mdash;two
+gone down to the country. Sholomonsh nobbled Lord
+Bylkington's carriage outshide Shyner's at two o'clock in the
+morning, and his lordship had to walk home in the rain;&rdquo; and
+Levi laughs and wriggles pleasantly over the picture. &ldquo;I think
+he'sh coming,&rdquo; says Levi suddenly, inclining his ear toward the
+door. He looked back over his shoulder with an odd look, a
+little stern, at the young gentleman.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Who?&rdquo; asked the young man, a little uncertain, in
+consequence of the character of that look.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Your&mdash;that&mdash;your friend, of course,&rdquo; said Levi, with his
+eyes again averted, and his ear near the door.</p>
+
+<p>It was a moment of trepidation and of hope to Richard
+Arden. He hears the steps of several persons in the next room.
+Levi opens a little bit of the door, and peeps through, and
+with a quick glance towards the baronet, he whispers, &ldquo;Ay, it's
+him.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Oh, blessed hope! here comes, at last, a powerful friend to
+take him by the hand, and draw him, in his last struggle, from
+the whirlpool.</p>
+
+<p>Sir Richard glances towards the door through which the Jew
+is still looking, and signing with his hand as, little by little, he
+opens it wider and wider; and a voice in the next room, at
+sound of which Sir Richard starts to his feet, says sharply, &ldquo;Is
+all right?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;All <em>right</em>,&rdquo; replies Levi, getting aside; and Mr. Longcluse
+entered the room and shut the door.</p>
+
+<p>His pale face looked paler than usual, his thin cruel lips were
+closed, his nostrils dilated with a terrible triumph, and his eyes
+were fixed upon Arden, as he held the fatal parchment in his
+hand.</p>
+
+<p>Levi saw a scowl so dreadful contract Sir Richard Arden's
+face&mdash;was it pain, or was it fury?&mdash;that, drawing back as far as
+the wall would let him, he almost screamed, &ldquo;It ain't me!&mdash;it
+ain't my fault!&mdash;I can't help it!&mdash;I couldn't!&mdash;I can't!&rdquo; His
+right hand was in his pocket, and his left, trembling violently,
+extended toward him, as if to catch his arm.</p>
+
+<p>But Richard Arden was not thinking of him&mdash;did not hear
+him. He was overpowered. He sat down in his chair. He
+leaned back with a gasp and a faint laugh, like a man just
+overtaken by a wave, and lifted half-drowned from the sea.
+Then, with a sudden cry, he threw his hands and head on the
+table.</p>
+
+<p>There was no token of relenting in Longcluse's cruel face.
+There was a contemptuous pleasure in it. He did not remove
+<a class="pagenum" name="Page_328" title="328"> </a>
+his eyes from that spectacle of abasement as he replaced the
+parchment in his pocket. There is a silence of about a minute,
+and Sir Richard sits up and says vaguely,&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Thank God, it's over! Take me away; I'm ready to go.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You shall go, time enough; I have a word to say first,&rdquo; said
+Longcluse, and he signs to the Jew to leave them.</p>
+
+<p>On being left to themselves, the first idea that struck Sir
+Richard was the wild one of escape. He glanced quickly at the
+window. It was barred with iron. There were men in the next
+room&mdash;he could not tell how many&mdash;and he was without arms.
+The hope lighted up, and almost at the same moment expired.</p>
+
+<div class="image-center chapter-end">
+<img src="images/ep03.png" width="197" height="121" alt=""/>
+</div>
+
+<div class="image-center chapter-beginning"><a class="pagenum" name="Page_329" title="329"> </a>
+<img src="images/ch03.png" width="472" height="107" alt=""/>
+</div>
+
+<h2 class="no-break">CHAPTER LXX.<br/>
+<small>MR. LONGCLUSE PROPOSES.</small></h2>
+
+<div><img class="drop-cap" src="images/drop_c.png" width="73" height="73" alt=""/></div>
+
+<p class="drop-cap drop-wide"><span class="upper-case">&ldquo;Clear</span> your head,&rdquo; says Mr. Longcluse, sternly,
+seating himself before Sir Richard, with the table
+between; &ldquo;you must conceive a distinct idea of
+your situation, Sir, and I shall then tell you something
+that remains. You have committed a forgery under
+aggravated circumstances, for which I shall have you convicted
+and sentenced to penal servitude at the next sessions. I have
+been a good friend to you on many occasions; you have been a
+false one to me&mdash;who baser?&mdash;and while I was anonymously
+helping you with large sums of money, you forged my name to
+a legal instrument for ten thousand pounds, to swindle your unknown
+benefactor, little suspecting who he was.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Longcluse smiled.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I have heard how you spoke of me. I'm an adventurer, a
+leg, an assassin, a person whom you were compelled to drop;
+rather a low person, I fear, if a felon can't afford to sit beside
+me! You were always too fine a man for me. Your get up was
+always peculiar; you were famous for that. It will soon be
+more singular still, when your hair and your clothes are cut after
+the fashion of the great world you are about to enter. How your
+friends will <ins title="laugh?">laugh!</ins>&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Sir Richard heard all this with a helpless stare.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I have only to stamp on the ground, to call up the men who
+will accomplish your transformation. I can change your life by
+a touch, into convict dress, diet, labour, lodging, for the rest of
+your days. What plea have you to offer to my mercy?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Sir Richard would have spoken, but his voice failed him.
+With a second effort, however, he said&mdash;&ldquo;Would it not be more
+manly if you let me meet my fate, without this.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;And you are such an admirable judge of what is manly, or
+<a class="pagenum" name="Page_330" title="330"> </a>
+even gentlemanlike!&rdquo; said Longcluse. &ldquo;Now, mind, I shall arrest
+you in five minutes, on your three over-due bills. The men with
+the writ are in the next room. I sha'n't immediately arrest you
+for the forgery. That shall hang over you. I mean to make
+you, for a while, my instrument. Hear, and understand; I
+mean to marry your sister. She don't like me, but she suits me;
+I have chosen her, and I'll not be baulked. When that is accomplished,
+you are safe. No man likes to see his brother a
+spectacle of British justice, with cropped hair, and a log to his
+foot. I may hate and despise you, as you deserve, but that
+would not do. Failing that, however, you shall have justice, I
+promise you. The course I propose taking is this: you shall be
+arrested here, for <em>debt</em>. You will be good enough to allow the
+people who take you, to select your present place of confinement.
+It is arranged. I will then, by a note, appoint a place of meeting
+for this evening, where I shall instruct you as to the particulars
+of that course of conduct I prescribe for you. If you
+mean to attempt an escape, you had better try it <em>now</em>; I will
+give you fourteen hours' start, and undertake to catch and bring
+you back to London as a forger. If you make up your mind to
+submit to fate, and do precisely as you are ordered, you may
+emerge. But on the slightest evasion, prevarication, or default,
+the blow descends. In the meantime we treat each other civilly
+before these people. Levi is in my hands, and you, I presume,
+keep your own secret.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;That is all?&rdquo; inquired Sir Richard, faintly, after a minute's
+silence.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;All for the <em>present</em>,&rdquo; was the reply; &ldquo;you will see more
+clearly, by-and-by, that you are my property, and you will act
+accordingly.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>The two Jewish-looking gentlemen, whom Richard had
+passed in a conference in their carriage which stood now at the
+steps of the house, were the sheriff's officers destined to take
+charge of the fallen gentleman, and convey him, by Levi's direction,
+to a &ldquo;sponging house,&rdquo; which, I believe, belonged jointly
+to him and his partner, Mr. Goldshed.</p>
+
+<p>It was on the principle, perhaps, on which hunters tame wild
+beasts, by a sojourn at the bottom of a pit-fall, that Mr. Longcluse
+doomed the young baronet to some ten hours' solitary contemplation
+of his hopeless immeshment in that castle of Giant
+Despair, before taking him out and setting him again before
+him, for the purpose of instructing him in the conditions and
+duties of the direful life on which he was about to enter.</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Longcluse left the baronet suddenly, and returned to
+Levi's office no more.</p>
+
+<p>Sir Richard's <i lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">rôle</i> was cast. He was to figure, at least first,
+as a captive in the drama for which fate had selected him. He
+<a class="pagenum" name="Page_331" title="331"> </a>
+had no wish to retard the progress of the piece. Nothing more
+odious than his present situation was likely to come.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You have something to say to me?&rdquo; said the baronet, making
+tender, as it were, of himself. The offer was, obligingly,
+accepted, and the sheriffs, by his lieutenants, made prisoner of
+Sir Richard Arden, who strode down the stairs between them,
+and entered the seedy coach, and sitting as far back as he could,
+drove rapidly toward the City.</p>
+
+<p>Stunned and confused, there was but one image vividly present
+to his recollection, and that was the baleful face of Walter
+Longcluse.</p>
+
+<div class="image-center chapter-end">
+<img src="images/ep03.png" width="197" height="121" alt=""/>
+</div>
+
+<div class="image-center chapter-beginning"><a class="pagenum" name="Page_332" title="332"> </a>
+<img src="images/ch02.png" width="466" height="125" alt=""/>
+</div>
+
+<h2 class="no-break">CHAPTER LXXI.<br/>
+<small>NIGHT.</small></h2>
+
+<div><img class="drop-cap" src="images/drop_a.png" width="72" height="73" alt=""/></div>
+
+<p class="drop-cap"><span class="upper-case">At</span> about eight o'clock that evening, a hurried note
+reached Alice Arden, at Mortlake. It was from her
+brother, and said,&mdash;</p>
+
+<blockquote>
+<p class="small-caps">&ldquo;My Darling Alice,</p>
+
+<p class="larger-indent">&ldquo;I can't get away from town to-night, I am overwhelmed
+with business; but to-morrow, before dinner, I hope to see you, and
+stay at Mortlake till next morning.&mdash;Your affectionate brother,</p>
+
+<p class="right small-caps">&ldquo;Dick.&rdquo;</p>
+</blockquote>
+
+<p>The house was quiet earlier than in former times, when Sir
+Reginald, of rakish memory, was never in his bed till past three
+o'clock in the morning. Mortlake was an early house now, and
+all was still by a quarter past eleven. The last candle burning
+was usually that in Mrs. Tansey's room. She had not yet gone
+to bed, and was still in &ldquo;the housekeeper's room,&rdquo; when a tapping
+came at the window. It reminded her of Mr. Longcluse's
+visit on the night of the funeral.</p>
+
+<p>She was now the only person up in the house, except Alice,
+who was at the far side of the building, where, in the next room,
+her maid was in bed asleep. Alice, who sat at her dressing-table,
+reading, with her long rich hair dishevelled over her
+shoulders, was, of course, quite out of hearing.</p>
+
+<p>Martha went to the window with a little frown of uncertainty.
+Opening a bit of the shutter, she saw Sir Richard's face close to
+her. Was ever old housekeeper so pestered by nightly tappings
+at her window-pane?</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;La! who'd a thought o' seeing you, Master Richard! why,
+<a class="pagenum" name="Page_333" title="333"> </a>
+<ins title="ou">you</ins> told Miss Alice you'd not be here till to-morrow!&rdquo; she says
+<ins title="ettishly">pettishly</ins>, holding the candle high above her head.</p>
+
+<p>He makes a sign of caution to her, and placing his lips near
+the pane, says,&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Open the window the least bit in life.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>With a dark stare in his face, she obeys. An odd approach,
+surely, for a master to make to his own house!</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;No one up in the house but you?&rdquo; he whispers, as soon as
+the window is open.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Not one!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Don't say a word, only listen: come, softly, round to the
+hall-door, and let me in; and light those candles there, and
+bring them with you to the hall. Don't let a creature know I
+have been here, and make no noise for your life!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>The old woman nodded with the same little frown; and he,
+pointing toward the hall door, walks away silently in that
+direction.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;What makes you look so white and dowley?&rdquo; mutters
+the old woman, as she secures the window, and bars the
+shutters again.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Good creature!&rdquo; whispers Sir Richard, as he enters the
+hall, and places his hand kindly on her shoulder, and with a
+very dark look; &ldquo;you have always been true to me, Martha,
+and I depend on your good sense; not a word of my having
+been here to any one&mdash;not to Miss Alice! I have to search for
+papers. I shall be here but an hour or so. Don't lock or bar
+the door, mind, and get to your bed! Don't come up this way
+again&mdash;good-night!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Won't you have some supper?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;No, thanks.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;A glass of sherry and a bit o' something?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Nothing.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>And he places his hand on her shoulder gently, and looks
+toward the corridor that led to her room; then taking up one of
+the candles she had left alight on the table in the hall, he
+says,&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I'll give you a light,&rdquo; and he repeats, with a wondrous heavy
+sigh, &ldquo;Good-night, dear old Martha.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;God bless ye, Master Dick. Ye must chirp up a bit, mind,&rdquo;
+she says very kindly, with an earnest look in her face. &ldquo;I'm
+getting to rest&mdash;ye needn't fear me walkin' about to trouble ye.
+But ye must be careful to shut the hall-door close. I agree, as
+it is a thing to be done; but ye must also knock at my bed-room
+window when ye've gane out, for I must get up, and lock the
+door, and make a' safe; and don't ye forget, Master Richard,
+what I tell ye.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>He held the candle at the end of the corridor, down which the
+<a class="pagenum" name="Page_334" title="334"> </a>
+wiry old woman went quickly; and when he returned to the
+hall, and set the candle down again, he felt faint. In his ears
+are ever the terrible words: &ldquo;Mind, <em>I</em> take command of the
+house, <em>I</em> dispose of and appoint the servants; I don't appear,
+you do all ostensibly&mdash;but from garret to cellar, I'm <em>master</em>.
+I'll look it over, and tell you what is to be done.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Sir Richard roused himself, and having listened at the staircase,
+he very softly opened the hall-door. The spire of the old
+church showed hoar in the moonlight. At the left, from
+under a deep shadow of elms, comes silently a tall figure, and
+softly ascends the hall-door steps. The door is closed gently.</p>
+
+<p>Alice sitting at her dressing-table, half an hour later, thought
+she heard steps&mdash;lowered her book, and listened. But no
+sound followed. Again the same light foot-falls disturbed her&mdash;and
+again, she was growing nervous. Once more she heard
+them, very stealthily, and now on the same floor on which her
+room was. She stands up breathless. There is no noise now.
+She was thinking of waking her maid, but she remembered
+that she and Louisa Diaper had in a like alarm, discovered old
+Martha, only two or three nights before, poking about the
+china-closet, dusting and counting, at one o'clock in the morning,
+and had then exacted a promise that she would visit that
+repository no more, except at seasonable hours. But old
+Martha was so pig-headed, and would take it for granted that
+she was fast asleep, and would rather fidget through the
+house and poke up everything at that hour than at any
+other.</p>
+
+<p>Quite persuaded of this, Alice takes her candle, determined
+to scold that troublesome old thing, against whom she is fired
+with the irritation that attends on a causeless fright. She
+walks along the gallery quickly, in slippers, flowing dressing-gown
+and hair, with her candle in her hand, to the head of the
+stairs, through the great window of which the moonlight streams
+brightly. Through the keyhole of the door at the opposite
+side, a ray of candlelight is visible, and from this room opens
+the china-closet, which is no doubt the point of attraction for
+the troublesome visitant. Holding the candle high in her left
+hand, Alice opens the door.</p>
+
+<p>What she sees is this&mdash;a pair of candles burning on a small
+table, on which, with a pencil, Mr. Longcluse is drawing, it
+seems, with care, a diagram; at the same moment he raises his
+eyes, and Richard Arden, who is standing with one hand
+placed on the table over which he is leaning a little, looks
+quickly round, and rising walks straight to the door, interposing
+between her and Longcluse.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Oh, Alice? You didn't expect me: I'm very busy, looking
+for&mdash;looking over papers. Don't mind.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p><a class="pagenum" name="Page_335" title="335"> </a>He had placed his hands gently on her shoulders, and she
+receded as he advanced.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Oh! it don't matter. I thought&mdash;I thought&mdash;I did not
+know.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>She was smiling her best. She was horrified. He looked
+like a ghost. Alice was gazing piteously in his face, and with a
+little laugh, she began to cry convulsively.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;What is the matter with the little fool! There, there&mdash;don't,
+don't&mdash;nonsense!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>With an effort she recovered herself.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Only a little startled, Dick; I did not think you were there&mdash;good-night.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>And she hastened back to her chamber, and locked the door;
+and running into her maid's room, sat down on the side of her
+bed, and wept hysterically. To the imploring inquiries of her
+maid, she repeated only the words, &ldquo;I am frightened,&rdquo; and left
+her in a startled perplexity.</p>
+
+<p>She knew that Longcluse had seen her, and he, that she had
+seen him. Their eyes had met. He saw with a bleak rage
+the contracting look of horror, so nearly hatred, that she fixed
+on him for a breathless moment. There was a tremor of fury
+at his heart, as if it could have sprung at her, from his breast,
+at her throat, and murdered her; and&mdash;she looked so beautiful!
+He gazed with an idolatrous admiration. Tears were welling
+to his eyes, and yet he would have laughed to see her weltering
+on the floor. A madman for some tremendous seconds!</p>
+
+<div class="image-center chapter-end">
+<img src="images/ep24.png" width="281" height="66" alt=""/>
+</div>
+
+<div class="image-center chapter-beginning"><a class="pagenum" name="Page_336" title="336"> </a>
+<img src="images/ch23.png" width="443" height="83" alt=""/>
+</div>
+
+<h2 class="no-break">CHAPTER LXXII.<br/>
+<small>MEASURES.</small></h2>
+
+<div><img class="drop-cap" src="images/drop_a.png" width="72" height="73" alt=""/></div>
+
+<p class="drop-cap"><span class="upper-case">About</span> twelve o'clock next day Richard Arden showed
+himself at Mortlake. It was a beautiful autumnal
+day, and the mellow sun fell upon a foliage that was
+fading into russet and yellow. Alice was looking
+out from the open window, on the noble old timber whose
+wide-spread boughs and thinning leaves caught the sunbeams
+pleasantly. She had heard her brother and his companion go
+down the stairs, and saw them, from the window, walk quickly
+down the avenue, till the trees hid them from view. She
+thought that some of the servants were up, and that the door
+was secured on their departure; and the effect of the shock
+she had received gradually subsiding, she looked to her next
+interview with her brother for an explanation of the occurrence
+which had so startled her.</p>
+
+<p>That interview was approaching; the cab drove up to the
+steps, and her brother got out. Anxiously she looked, but no
+one followed him, and the driver shut the cab-door. Sir
+Richard kissed his hand to her, as she stood in the window.</p>
+
+<p>From the hall the house opens to the right and left, in two
+suites of rooms. The room in which Alice stood was called
+the sage-room, from its being hung in sage-green leather,
+stamped in gold. It is a small room to the left, and would
+answer very prettily for a card party or a <i lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">tête-à-tête</i>. Alice had
+her work, her books, and her music there; she liked it because
+the room was small and cheery.</p>
+
+<p>The door opened, and her brother comes in.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Good Dick, to come so early! welcome, darling,&rdquo; she said,
+putting her arms about his neck, as he stooped and kissed her,
+smiling.</p>
+
+<p>He looked very ill, and his smile was painful.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;That was an odd little visit I paid last night,&rdquo; said he, with
+<a class="pagenum" name="Page_337" title="337"> </a>
+his dark eyes fixed on her, inquiringly she thought&mdash;&ldquo;very late&mdash;quite
+unexpected. You are quite well to-day?&mdash;you look
+flourishing.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I wish I could say as much for you, Dick; I'm afraid you
+are tiring yourself to death.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I had some one with me last night,&rdquo; said Sir Richard, with
+his eye still upon her; &ldquo;I&mdash;I don't know whether you perceived
+that.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Alice looked away, and then said carelessly, but very
+gravely&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I did&mdash;I saw Mr. Longcluse. I could not believe my eyes,
+Dick. You must promise me one thing.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;What is that?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;That he sha'n't come into this house any more&mdash;while I am
+here, I mean.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;That is easily promised,&rdquo; said he.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;And what did he come about, Dick?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Oh! he came&mdash;he came&mdash;I thought I told you; he came
+about papers. I did not tell you; but he has, after all, turned
+out very friendly. He is going to do me a very important
+service.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>She looked very much surprised.</p>
+
+<p>The young man glanced through the window, to which he
+walked; he seemed embarrassed, and then turning to her, he
+said peevishly&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You seem to think, Alice, that one can never make a mistake,
+or change an opinion.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;But I did not say so; only, Dick, I must tell you that I
+have such a horror of that man&mdash;a <em>terror</em> of him&mdash;as nothing
+can ever get over.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I'm to blame for that.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;No, I can't say you are. I don't mind stories so much as<span style="white-space: nowrap;">&mdash;&mdash;</span>&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;As what?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;As looks.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Looks! Why, you used to think him a gentlemanly-looking
+fellow, and so he is.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Looks <em>and language</em>,&rdquo; said Alice.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I thought he was a very civil fellow.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I sha'n't dispute anything. I suppose you have found him
+a good friend after all, as you say.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;As good a friend as most men,&rdquo; said Sir Richard, growing
+pale; &ldquo;they all act from interest: where interests are the same,
+men are friends. But he has saved me from a great deal, and
+he may do more; and I believe I was too hasty about those
+stories, and I think you were right when you refused to believe
+them without proof.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p><a class="pagenum" name="Page_338" title="338"> </a>&ldquo;I daresay&mdash;I don't know&mdash;I believe my senses&mdash;and all I
+say is this, if Mr. Longcluse is to come here any more, I must
+go. He is no gentleman, I think&mdash;that is, I can't describe how
+I dislike him&mdash;how I hate him! I'm afraid of him! Dick,
+you look ill and unhappy: what's the <ins title="matter!">matter?</ins>&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I'm well enough&mdash;I'm better; we shall be better&mdash;all better
+by-and-by. I wish the next five weeks were over! We must
+leave this, we must go to Arden Court; I will send some of the
+servants there first. I am going to tell them now, they must
+get the house ready. You shall keep your maid here with you;
+and when all is ready in Yorkshire, we shall be off&mdash;Alice,
+Alice, don't mind me&mdash;I'm miserable&mdash;mad!&rdquo; he says suddenly,
+and covers his face with his hands, and, for the first time for
+years, he is crying bitter tears.</p>
+
+<p>Alice was by his side, alarmed, curious, grieved; and with all
+these emotions mingling in her dark eyes and beautiful features,
+as she drew his hand gently away, with a rush of affectionate
+entreaties and inquiries.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;It is all very fine, Alice,&rdquo; he exclaims, with a sudden bitterness;
+&ldquo;but I don't believe, to save me from destruction, you
+would sacrifice one of your least caprices, or reconcile one of
+your narrowest prejudices.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;What can you mean, dear Richard? only tell me how I can
+be of any use. You can't mean, of course<span style="white-space: nowrap;">&mdash;&mdash;</span>&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>She stops with a startled look at him. &ldquo;You know, dear
+Dick, that was always out of the question: and surely you
+have heard that Lord Wynderbroke is to be married to Grace
+Maubray? It is all settled.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Quite another thought had been in Richard's mind, but he
+was glad to accept Alice's conjecture.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Yes, so it is&mdash;so, at least, it is said to be&mdash;but I am so
+worried and distracted, I half forget things. Girls are such
+jolly fools; they throw good men away, and lose themselves.
+What is to become of you, Alice, if things go wrong with me!
+I think the old times were best, when the old people settled
+who was to marry whom, and there was no disputing their
+decision, and marriages were just as happy, and courtships a
+great deal simpler; and I am very sure there were fewer secret
+repinings, and broken hearts, and&mdash;threadbare old maids.
+Don't <em>you</em> be a fool, Alice; mind what I say.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>He is leaving the room, but pauses at the door, and returns
+and places his hand on her arm, looking in her face, and says&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Yes, mind what I say, for God's sake, and we may all be a
+great deal happier.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>He kisses her, and is gone. Her eyes follow him, as she
+thinks with a sigh&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;How strange Dick is growing! I'm afraid he has been
+<a class="pagenum" name="Page_339" title="339"> </a>
+playing again, and losing. It must have been something very
+urgent that induced him to make it up again with that low malignant
+man; and this break-up, and journey to Arden Court! I
+think I should prefer being there. There is something ominous
+about this place, picturesque as it is, and much as I like it. But
+the journey to Yorkshire is only another of the imaginary
+excursions Dick has been proposing every fortnight; and next
+year, and the year after, will find us, I suppose, just where we are.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>But this conjecture, for once, was mistaken. It was, this time,
+a veritable break-up and migration; for Martha Tansey came
+in, with the importance of a person who has a matter of moment
+to talk over.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Here's something sudden, Miss Alice; I suppose you've
+heard. Off to Arden Court in the mornin'. Crozier and me;
+the footman discharged, and you to follow with Master Richard
+in a week.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Oh, then, it <em>is</em> settled. Well, Martha, I am not sorry, and I
+daresay you and Crozier won't be sorry to see old Yorkshire
+faces again, and the Court, and the rookery, and the orchard.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I don't mind; glad enough to see a'ad faces, but I'm a bit
+o'er a'ad myself for such sudden flittins, and Manx and Darwent,
+and the rest, is to go by night train to-morrow, and not a housemaid
+left in Mortlake. But Master Richard says a's provided,
+and 'twill be but a few days after a's done; and ye'll be down,
+then, at Arden by the middle o' next week, and I'm no sa sure
+the change mayn't serve ye; and as your uncle, Master David,
+and Lady May Penrose, and Miss Maubray&mdash;a strackle-brained
+lass she is, I doubt&mdash;and to think o' that a'ad fule, Lord Wynderbroke,
+takin' sich a young, bonny hizzy to wife! La bless ye,
+she'll play the hangment wi' that a'ad gowk of a lord, and all
+his goold guineas won't do. His kist o' money won't hod na
+time, I warrant ye, when once that lassie gets her pretty fingers
+under the lid. There'll be gaains on in that house, I warrant,
+not but he's a gude man, and a fine gentleman as need be,&rdquo; she
+added, remembering her own strenuous counsel in his favour,
+when he was supposed to be paying his court to Alice; &ldquo;and if
+he was mated wi' a gude lassie, wi' gude blude in her veins,
+would doubtless keep as honourable a house, and hod his head
+as high as any lord o' them a'. But as I was saying, Miss Alice,
+now that Master David, and Lady May, and Miss Maubray, has
+left Lunnon, there's no one here to pay ye a visit, and ye'd be
+fairly buried alive here in Mortlake, and ye'll be better, and sa
+will we a', down at Arden, for a bit; and there's gentle folk
+down there as gude as ever rode in Lunnon streets, mayhap,
+and better; and mony a squire, that ony leddy in the land
+might be proud to marry, and not one but would be glad to
+match wi' an Arden.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p><a class="pagenum" name="Page_340" title="340"> </a>&ldquo;That is a happy thought,&rdquo; said Alice, laughing.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;And so it is, and no laughing matter,&rdquo; said Martha, a little
+offended, as she stalked out of the room, and closed the door,
+grandly, after her.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;And God bless you, dear old Martha,&rdquo; said the young lady,
+looking towards the door through which she had just passed;
+&ldquo;the truest and kindest soul on earth.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Sir Richard did not come back. She saw him no more that
+evening.</p>
+
+<div class="image-center chapter-end">
+<img src="images/ep04.png" width="232" height="128" alt=""/>
+</div>
+
+<div class="image-center chapter-beginning"><a class="pagenum" name="Page_341" title="341"> </a>
+<img src="images/ch01.png" width="441" height="84" alt=""/>
+</div>
+
+<h2 class="no-break">CHAPTER LXXIII.<br/>
+<small>AT THE BAR OF THE &ldquo;GUY OF WARWICK.&rdquo;</small></h2>
+
+<div><img class="drop-cap" src="images/drop_n.png" width="72" height="72" alt=""/></div>
+
+<p class="drop-cap"><span class="upper-case">Next</span> evening there came, not Richard, but a note saying
+that he would see Alice the moment he could get
+away from town. As the old servant departed
+northward, her solitude for the first time began to
+grow irksome, and as the night approached, worse even than
+gloomy.</p>
+
+<p>Her extemporised household made her laugh. It was not
+even a skeleton establishment. The kitchen department had
+dwindled to a single person, who ordered her luncheon and
+dinner, only two or three <i lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">plats</i>, daily, from the &ldquo;Guy of
+Warwick.&rdquo; The housemaid's department was undertaken by a
+single servant, a short, strong woman of some sixty years of
+age.</p>
+
+<p>This person puzzled Alice a good deal. She came to her, like
+the others, with a note from her brother, stating her name, and
+that he had engaged her for the few days they meant to remain
+roughing it at Mortlake, and that he had received a very good
+account of her.</p>
+
+<p>This woman has not a bad countenance. There is, indeed,
+no tenderness in it; but there is a sort of hard good-humour.
+There are quickness and resolution. She talks fluently of herself
+and her qualifications, and now and then makes a short
+curtsey. But she takes no notice of any one of Alice's
+questions.</p>
+
+<p>A silence sometimes follows, during which Alice repeats her
+interrogatory perhaps twice, with growing indignation, and then
+the new comer breaks into a totally independent talk, and
+leaves the young lady wondering at her disciplined impertinence.
+It was not till her second visit that she enlightened
+her.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I did not send for you. You can go!&rdquo; said Alice.</p>
+
+<p><a class="pagenum" name="Page_342" title="342"> </a>&ldquo;I don't like a house that has children in it, they gives a deal
+o' trouble,&rdquo; said the woman.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;But I say you may go; you must go, please.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>The woman looked round the room.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;When I was with Mrs. Montgomery, she had five, three
+girls and two boys; la! there never was five such<span style="white-space: nowrap;">&mdash;&mdash;</span>&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Go, this moment, please, I insist on your going; do you
+hear me, pray?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>But so far from answering, or obeying, this cool intruder continues
+her harangue before Miss Arden gets half way to the
+end of her little speech.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;That woman was the greatest fool alive&mdash;nothing but spoiling
+and petting&mdash;I could not stand it no longer, so I took
+Master Tommy by the lug, and pulled him out of the kitchen,
+the limb, along the passage to the stairs, every inch, and I gave
+him a slap in the face, the fat young rascal; you could hear all
+over the house! and didn't he rise the roof! So missus and
+me, we quarrelled upon it.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;If you don't leave the room, <em>I</em> must; and I shall tell my
+brother, Sir Richard, how you have behaved yourself; and you
+may rely upon it<span style="white-space: nowrap;">&mdash;&mdash;</span>&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>But here again she is overpowered by the strong voice of her
+visitor.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;It was in my next place, at Mr. Crump's, I took cold in my
+head, very bad, Miss, indeed, looking out of window to see
+two fellows fighting, in the lane&mdash;in both ears&mdash;and so I lost
+my hearing, and I've been deaf as a post ever since!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Alice could not resist a laugh at her own indignant eloquence
+quite thrown away; and she hastily wrote with a pencil on a
+slip of paper:&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Please don't come to me except when I send for you.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;La! Ma'am, I forgot!&rdquo; exclaims the woman, when she
+had examined it; &ldquo;my orders was not to read any of <em>your</em>
+writing.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Not to read any of my writing!&rdquo; said Alice, amazed; &ldquo;then,
+how am I to tell you what I wish about anything?&rdquo; she inquires,
+for the moment forgetting that not one word of her question was
+heard. The woman makes a curtsey and retires. &ldquo;What can
+Richard have meant by giving her such a direction? I'll ask
+him when he comes.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>It was likely enough that the woman had misunderstood him,
+still she began to wish the little interval destined to be passed
+at Mortlake before her journey to Yorkshire, ended.</p>
+
+<p>She told her maid, Louisa Diaper, to go down to the kitchen
+and find out all she could as to what people were in the
+house, and what duties they had undertaken, and when her
+brother was likely to arrive.</p>
+
+<p><a class="pagenum" name="Page_343" title="343"> </a>Louisa Diaper, slim, elegant, and demure, descended among
+these barbarous animals. She found in the kitchen, unexpectedly,
+a male stranger, a small, slight man, with great black
+eyes, a big sullen mouth, a sallow complexion, and a profusion
+of black ringlets. The deaf woman was conning over
+some writing of his on a torn-off blank leaf of a letter, and
+he was twiddling about the pencil, with which he had just
+traced it, in his fingers, and, in a singing drawl, holding forth
+to the other woman, who, with a long and high canvas apron
+on, and the handle of an empty saucepan in her right hand,
+stood gaping at him, with her arms hanging by her sides.</p>
+
+<p>On the appearance of Miss Diaper, Mr. Levi, for he it was,
+directs his solemn conversation to that young lady.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I was just telling them about the robberies in the City
+and Wesht Hend. La! there'sh bin nothin' like it for twenty
+year. They don't tell them in the papersh, blesh ye! The 'ome
+Shecretary takesh precious good care o' that; they don't want
+to frighten every livin' shoul out of London. But there'll be
+talk of it in Parliament, I promish you. I know three opposition
+membersh myshelf that will move the 'oushe upon it next
+session.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Levi wagged his head darkly as he made this political
+revelation.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Thish day twel'month the number o' burglariesh in London
+and the West Hend, including Hizzlington, was no more than
+fifteen and a half a night; and two robberiesh attended with
+wiolensh. What wazh it lasht night? I have it in confidensh,
+from the polishe offish thish morning.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>He pulled a pocket-book, rather greasy, from his breast, and
+from this depositary, it is to be presumed, of statistical secrets,
+he read the following official memorandum:&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Number of 'oushes burglarioushly hentered lasht night, including
+private banksh, charitable hinshtitutions, shops, lodging-'oushes,
+female hacadamies, and private dwellings, and
+robbed with more or less wiolench, one thoushand sheven
+hundred and shixty-sheven. We regret to hadd,&rdquo; he continued,
+the official return stealing, as it proceeded, gradually into the
+style of &ldquo;The Pictorial Calendar of British Crime,&rdquo; a half-penny
+paper which he took in&mdash;&ldquo;this hinundation of crime seems
+flowing, or rayther rushing northward, and hazh already
+enweloped Hizhlington, where a bald-headed clock and watch
+maker, named Halexander Goggles, wazh murdered with his
+sheven shmall children, with unigshampled ba-arba-arity.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Levi eyed the women horribly all round as he ended the
+sentence, and he added,&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Hizhlington'sh only down there. It ain't five minutesh
+walk; only a pleasant shtep; just enough to give a fellow azh
+<a class="pagenum" name="Page_344" title="344"> </a>
+has polished off a family there a happetite for another up <ins title="here">here.</ins>
+Azh I 'ope to be shaved, I shleep every night with a pair of
+horshe pishtols, a blunderbush, and a shabre by my bed; and
+Shir Richard wantsh every door in the 'oushe fasht <ins title="locked.">locked,</ins> and
+the keysh with him, before dark, thish evening, except only such
+doors as you want open; and he gave me a note to Miss
+Harden.&rdquo; And he placed the note in Miss Diaper's hand.
+&ldquo;He wantsh the 'oushe a bit more schecure,&rdquo; he added,
+following her towards the hall. &ldquo;He wishes to make you and
+she quite shafe, and out of harm's way, if anything should
+occur. It will be only a few days, you know, till you're both
+away.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>The effect of this little alarm, accompanied by Sir Richard's
+note, was that Mr. Levi carried out a temporary arrangement,
+which assigned the suite of apartments in which Alice's room
+was as those to which she would restrict herself during the
+few days she was to remain there, the rest of the house,
+except the kitchen and a servant's room or two down-stairs,
+being locked up.</p>
+
+<p>By the time Mr. Levi had got the keys together, and all safe
+in Mortlake, the sun had set, and in the red twilight that
+followed he set off in his cab towards town. At the &ldquo;Guy of
+Warwick&rdquo;&mdash;from the bar of which already was flaring a good
+broad gas-light&mdash;he stopped and got out. There was a full
+view of the bar from where he stood; and, pretending to
+rummage his pockets for something, he was looking in to see
+whether &ldquo;the coast was clear.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;She's just your sort&mdash;not too bad and not too good&mdash;not too
+nashty, and not too nishe; a good-humoured lash, rough and
+ready, and knowsh a thing or two.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Ye're there, are ye?&rdquo; inquired Mr. Levi, playfully, as he
+crossed the door-stone, and placed his fists on the bar grinning.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;What will you take, Sir, please?&rdquo; inquired the young
+woman, at one side of whom was the usual row of taps and
+pump-handles.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Now, Miss Ph&oelig;be, give me a brandy and shoda, pleashe.
+When I talked to you in thish 'ere place 'tother night, you
+wished to engage for a lady's maid. What would you shay to
+me, if I was to get you a firsht-chop tip-top pla-ashe of the
+kind? Well, don't you shay a word&mdash;that brandy ain't fair
+measure&mdash;and I'll tell you. It'sh a la-ady of ra-ank! where
+wagesh ish no-o object; and two years' savings, and a good
+match with a well-to-do 'andsome young fellow, will set you
+hup in a better place than this 'ere.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;It comes very timely, Sir, for I'm to leave to-morrow, and I
+was thinking of going home to my uncle in a day or two, in
+Chester.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Well it's all settled. Come you down to my offishe, you
+<a class="pagenum" name="Page_345" title="345"> </a>
+know where it is, to-morrow, at three, and I'll 'av all partickulars
+for you, and a note to the lady from her brother, the baronet;
+and if you be a good girl, and do as you're bid, you'll make a
+little fortune of it.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>She curtsied, with her eyes very round, as he, with a wag of
+his head drank down what remained of his brandy and soda,
+and wiping his mouth with his glove, he said, &ldquo;Three o'clock
+sha-arp, mind; good-bye, Ph&oelig;be, lass, and don't you forget all
+I said.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>He stood ungallantly with his back towards her on the
+threshold lighting a cigar, and so soon as he had it in his
+own phrase, &ldquo;working at high blast,&rdquo; he got into his cab,
+and jingled towards his office, with all his keys about him.</p>
+
+<p>While Miss Arden remained all unconscious, and even a
+little amused at the strange shifts to which her brief stay
+and extemporised household at Mortlake exposed her, a wily
+and determined strategist was drawing his toils around her.</p>
+
+<p>The process of isolation was nearly completed, without having
+once excited her suspicions; and, with the same perfidious
+skill, the house itself was virtually undergoing those modifications
+which best suited his designs.</p>
+
+<p>Sir Richard appeared at his club as usual. He was
+compelled to do so. The all-seeing eye of his pale tyrant pursued
+him everywhere; he lived under terror. A dreadful agony all
+this time convulsed the man, within whose heart Longcluse
+suspected nothing but the serenity of death.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;What easier than to tell the story to the police. Meditated
+duresse. Compulsion. Infernal villain! And then: what
+then? A pistol to his head, a flash, and&mdash;darkness!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<div class="image-center chapter-end">
+<img src="images/ep09.png" width="218" height="46" alt=""/>
+</div>
+
+<div class="image-center chapter-beginning"><a class="pagenum" name="Page_346" title="346"> </a>
+<img src="images/ch15.png" width="456" height="110" alt=""/>
+</div>
+
+<h2 class="no-break">CHAPTER LXXIV.<br/>
+<small>A LETTER.</small></h2>
+
+<div><img class="drop-cap" src="images/drop_m.png" width="72" height="73" alt=""/></div>
+
+<p class="drop-cap drop-wide"><span class="upper-case">Mr. Longcluse</span> knocked at Sir Richard's house in
+May Fair, and sent up-stairs for the baronet. It was
+about the same hour at which Mr. Levi was drinking
+his thirsty potation of brandy and soda at the &ldquo;Guy
+of Warwick.&rdquo; The streets were darker than that comparatively
+open place, and the gas lamp threw its red outline of the sashes
+upon the dark ceiling, as Mr. Longcluse stood in the drawing-room
+between the windows, in his great-coat, with his hat on,
+looking in the dark like an image made of fog.</p>
+
+<p>Sir Richard Arden entered the room.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You were not at Mortlake to-day,&rdquo; said he.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;No.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;There's a cab at the door that will take you there; your
+absence for a whole day would excite surmise. Don't stay more
+than five minutes, and don't mention Louisa Diaper's name,
+and account for the locking up of all the house, but one suite
+of rooms, I directed, and come to my house in Bolton
+Street, direct from Mortlake. That's all.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Without another word, Mr. Longcluse took his departure.</p>
+
+<p>In this cavalier way, and in a cold tone that conveyed all the
+menace and insult involved in his ruined position, had this conceited
+young man been ordered about by his betrayer, on his
+cruel behests, ever since he had come under his dreadful rod. The
+iron trap that held him fast, locked him in a prison from
+which, except through the door of death, there seemed no
+escape.</p>
+
+<p>Outraged pride, the terrors of suspense, the shame and
+remorse of his own enormous perfidy against his only sister,
+peopled it with spectres.</p>
+
+<p>As he drove out to Mortlake, pale, frowning, with folded arms,
+his handsome face thinned and drawn by the cords of pain, he
+made up his mind. He knocked furiously at Mortlake Hall
+<a class="pagenum" name="Page_347" title="347"> </a>
+door. The woman in the canvas apron let him in. The strange
+face startled him; he had been thinking so intently of one
+thing. Going up, through the darkened house, with but one
+candle, and tapping at the door, on the floor above the drawing-room,
+within which Alice was sitting, with Louisa Diaper for
+company, and looking at her unsuspicious smile, he felt what a
+heinous conspirator he was.</p>
+
+<p>He made an excuse for sending the maid to the next room
+after they had spoken a few words, and then he said,&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Suppose, Alice, we were to change our plan, would you
+like to come abroad? Out of this you must come immediately.&rdquo;
+He was speaking low. &ldquo;I am in great danger; I must go
+abroad. For your life, don't seem to suspect anything. Do
+exactly as I tell you, or else I am utterly ruined, and you, Alice,
+on your account, very miserable. Don't ask a question, or look
+a look, that may make Louisa Diaper suspect that you have any
+doubt as to your going to Arden, or any suspicion of any
+danger. She is quite true, but not wise, and your left hand must
+not know what your right hand is doing. Don't be frightened,
+only be steady and calm. Get together any jewels and money
+you have, and as little else as you can possibly manage with.
+Do this yourself; Louisa Diaper must know nothing of it. I
+will mature our plans, and to-morrow or next day I shall see
+you again; I can stay but a moment now, and have but time to
+bid you good-night.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Then he kissed her. How horribly agitated he looked! How
+cold was the pressure of his hand!</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Hush!&rdquo; he whispered, and his dark eyes were fixed on the
+door through which he expected the return of the maid. And
+as he heard her step, &ldquo;Not a word, remember!&rdquo; he said;
+then bidding her good-night aloud, he quitted the room almost
+as suddenly as he had appeared, leaving her, for the first time,
+in the horrors of a growing panic.</p>
+
+<p>Sir Richard leaned back in the cab as he drove into <ins title="town,">town.</ins>
+He had as yet no plan formed. It was a more complicated
+exploit <ins title="that">than</ins> he was at the moment equal to. In Mortlake were
+two fellows, by way of protectors, placed there for security of
+the house and people.</p>
+
+<p>These men held possession of the keys of the house, and sat
+and regaled themselves with their hot punch, or cold brandy and
+water, and pipes; always one awake, and with ears erect, they
+kept watch and ward in the room to the right of the hall-door,
+in which Sir Richard and Uncle David had conversed with the
+sad Mr. Plumes, on the evening after the old baronet's death.
+To effect Alice's escape, and reserve for himself a chance of
+accomplishing his own, was a problem demanding skill, cunning,
+and audacity.</p>
+
+<p><a class="pagenum" name="Page_348" title="348"> </a>While he revolved these things an alarm had been
+sounded in another quarter, which unexpectedly opened a
+chance of extrication, sudden and startling.</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Longcluse was destined to a surprise to-night. Mr.
+Longcluse, at his own house, was awaiting the return of Sir
+Richard. Overlooked in his usually accurate though rapid selection,
+a particularly shabby and vulgar-looking letter had been
+thrown aside among circulars, pamphlets, and begging letters,
+to await his leisure. It was a letter from Paris, and vulgar and
+unbusiness-like as it looked, there was yet, in its peculiar
+scrivenery that which, a little more attentively scanned, thrilled
+him with a terrible misgiving. The post-mark showed it had
+been delivered four days before. When he saw from whom it
+came, and had gathered something of its meaning from a few
+phrases, his dark eyes gleamed and his face grew stern. Was
+this wretch's hoof to strike to pieces the plans he had so nearly
+matured? The letter was as follows:&mdash;</p>
+
+<blockquote>
+<p class="small-caps">&ldquo;Sir,</p>
+
+<p class="larger-indent">&ldquo;Mr Longcluse, I have been unfortunate With your money
+which you have Gave me to remove from England, and Keep me in New
+York. My boxes, and other things, and Ballens of the money in Gold,
+except about a Hundred pounds, which has kep me from want ever
+sense, went Down in the Mary Jane, of London, and my cousin went
+down in her also, which I might as well av Went down myself in her,
+only for me Stopping in Paris, where I made a trifle of Money, intending
+to go Out in August. Now, Sir, don't you Seppose I am not in as
+good Possition as I was when I Harranged with sum difculty With you.
+The boot with The blood Mark on the Soul is not Lost nor Distroyed,
+but it is Safe in my Custody; so as Likewise in safe Keeping is The
+traising, in paper, of the foot Mark in blood on the Floar of the Smoaking
+Room in question, with the signatures of the witnesses attached; and,
+Moreover, my Staitment made in the Form of a Information, at the
+Time, and signed In witness of My signature by two Unekseptinible
+witnesses. And all Is ready to Produise whenevor his worshop shall
+Apoynt. i have wrote To mister david Arden on this Supget. i wrote
+to him just a week ago, he seaming To take a Intrast in this Heer case;
+and, moreover, the two ieyes that sawd a certain Person about the said
+smoaking Room, and in the saime, is Boath wide open at This presen
+Time. mister Longcluse i do not Want to have your Life, but gustice
+must Taike its coarse unless it is settled of hand Slik. i will harrange
+the Same as last time, And i must have two hundred And fifty pounds
+More on this Settlement than i Had last time, for Dellay and loss of
+Time in this town. I will sign any law paper in reason you may ask of
+me. My hadress is under cover to Monseer Letexier, air-dresser, and
+incloses his card, which you Will please send an Anser by return Of post,
+or else i Must sepose you chose The afare shall take Its coarse; and i
+am as ever,</p>
+
+<p class="right"><span style="margin-right: 2em;">&ldquo;Your obeediant servant to command,</span><br/>
+&ldquo;<span class="small-caps">Paul Davies</span>.&rdquo;</p>
+</blockquote>
+
+<p><a class="pagenum" name="Page_349" title="349"> </a>Never did paper look so dazzlingly white, or letters so intensely
+black, before Mr. Longcluse's eyes, as those of this
+ominous letter. He crumpled it up, and thrust it in his trousers
+pocket, and gave to the position a few seconds of intense
+thought.</p>
+
+<p>His first thought was, what a fool he was for not having driven
+Davies to the wall, and settled the matter with the high hand
+of the law at once. His next, what could bring him to Paris?
+He was there for something. To see possibly the family of Lebas,
+and collect and dovetail pieces of evidence, after his detective
+practice, a process which would be sure to conduct him to the
+Baron Vanboeren! Was this story of the boot and the tracing
+of the bloodstained foot-print true? Had this scoundrel reserved
+the strongest part of his case for this new extortion? Was his
+trouble to be never ending? If this accursed ferret were once
+to get into his warren, what power could unearth him, till the
+mischief was done?</p>
+
+<p>His eye caught again the words, on which, in the expressive
+phrase which Mr. Davies would have used, his &ldquo;sight spred&rdquo; as
+he held the letter before his eyes&mdash;&ldquo;Mister Loncluse, i do not
+want to have your life.&rdquo; He ground his teeth, shook his fist in
+the air, and stamped on the floor with fury, at the thought that
+a brutal detective, not able to spell two words, and trained for
+such game as London thieves and burglars, should dare to hold
+such language to a man of thought and skill, altogether so
+masterly as he! That he should be outwitted by that clumsy
+scoundrel!</p>
+
+<p>Well, it was now to begin all over again. It should all go
+right this time. He thought again for a moment, and then sat
+down and wrote, commencing with the date and address&mdash;</p>
+
+<blockquote>
+<p class="small-caps">&ldquo;Paul Davies,</p>
+
+<p class="larger-indent">&ldquo;I have just received your note, which states that you have
+succeeded in obtaining some additional information, which you think
+may lead to the conviction of the murderer of M. Lebas, in the Saloon
+Tavern. I shall be most happy to pay handsomely any expense of any
+kind you may be put to in that matter. It is, indeed, no more than I
+had already undertaken. I am glad to learn that you have also written
+on the subject to Mr. David Arden, who feels entirely with me. I
+shall take an early opportunity of seeing him. Persist in your laudable
+exertions, and I shall not shrink from rewarding you handsomely.</p>
+
+<p class="right"><span style="margin-right: 3.5em;">&ldquo;Yours,</span><br/>
+&ldquo;<span class="small-caps">Walter Longcluse</span>.&rdquo;</p>
+</blockquote>
+
+<p>He addressed the letter carefully, and went himself and put
+it in the post-office.</p>
+
+<p>By this time Sir Richard Arden was awaiting him at home in
+his drawing-room, and as he walked homeward, under the
+<a class="pagenum" name="Page_350" title="350"> </a>
+lamps, in inward pain, one might have moralised with Peter
+Pindar&mdash;</p>
+
+<div class="poetry">
+<div class="stanza">
+<div class="line">&ldquo;These fleas have other fleas to bite 'em<br/></div>
+<div class="line indent1">And so on <i lang="la" xml:lang="la">ad infinitum</i>.&rdquo;<br/></div>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<p>The secret tyrant had in his turn found a secret tyrant, not
+less cruel perhaps, but more ignoble.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You made your visit?&rdquo; asked Mr. Longcluse.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Yes.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Anything to report?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Absolutely nothing.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>A silence followed.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Where is Mr. Arden, your uncle?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;In Scotland.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;How soon does he return?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;He will not be in town till spring, I believe; he is going
+abroad, but he passes through Southampton on his way to the
+Continent, on Friday next.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;And makes some little stay there?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I think he stays one night.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Then I'll go down and see him, and you shall come with
+me.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Sir Richard stared.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Yes, and you had better not put your foot in it; and clear
+your head of all notion of running away,&rdquo; he said, fixing his
+fiery eyes on Sir Richard, with a sudden ferocity that made him
+fancy that his secret thoughts had revealed themselves under
+that piercing gaze. &ldquo;It is not easy to levant now-a-days, unless
+one has swifter wings than the wires can carry news with; and
+if you are false, what more do I need than to blast you? and
+with your name in the <cite>Hue-and-Cry</cite>, and a thousand pounds
+reward for the apprehension of Sir Richard Arden, Baronet, for
+forgery, I don't see much more that infamy can do for you.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>A dark flush crossed Arden's face as he rose.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Not a word now,&rdquo; cried Longcluse harshly, extending his
+hand quickly towards him; &ldquo;I may do that which can't be
+undone.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<div class="image-center chapter-beginning"><a class="pagenum" name="Page_351" title="351"> </a>
+<img src="images/ch75.png" width="460" height="93" alt=""/>
+</div>
+
+<h2 class="no-break">CHAPTER LXXV.<br/>
+<small>BLIGHT AND CHANGE.</small></h2>
+
+<div><img class="drop-cap" src="images/drop_d.png" width="72" height="72" alt=""/></div>
+
+<p class="drop-cap"><span class="upper-case">Danger</span> to herself, Alice suspected none. But she
+was full of dreadful conjectures about her brother.
+There was, she was persuaded, no good any longer in
+remonstrance or entreaty. She could not upbraid
+him; but she was sure that the terrible fascination of the
+gaming-table had caused the sudden ruin he vaguely confessed.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Oh,&rdquo; she often repeated, &ldquo;that Uncle David were in town,
+or that I knew where to find him!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;But no doubt,&rdquo; she thought, &ldquo;Richard will hide nothing
+from him, and perhaps my hinting his disclosures, even to him,
+would aggravate poor Richard's difficulties and misery.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>It was not until the next evening that, about the same hour,
+she again saw her brother. His good resolutions in the interval
+had waxed faint. They were not reversed, but only in the
+spirit of indecision, and something of the apathy of despair,
+postponed to a more convenient season.</p>
+
+<p>To her he seemed more tranquil. He said vaguely that the
+reasons for flight were less urgent and that she had better
+continue her preparations, as before, for her journey to
+Yorkshire.</p>
+
+<p>Even under these circumstances the journey to Yorkshire was
+pleasant. There was comfort in the certainty that he would
+there be beyond the reach of that fatal temptation which had
+too plainly all but ruined him. From the harrassing distractions,
+also, which in London had of late beset him, almost
+without intermission, he might find in the seclusion of Arden a
+temporary calm. There, with Uncle David's help, there would
+be time, at least, to ascertain the extent of his losses, and what
+the old family of Arden might still count upon as their own, and a
+plan of life might be arranged for the future.</p>
+
+<p><a class="pagenum" name="Page_352" title="352"> </a>Full of these more cheery thoughts, Alice took leave of her
+brother.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I am going,&rdquo; he said, looking at his watch, &ldquo;direct to
+Brighton; I have just time to get to the station nicely; business,
+of course&mdash;a meeting to-night with Bexley, who is staying there,
+and in the morning a long and, I fear, angry discussion with
+Charrington, who is also at Brighton.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>He kissed his sister, sighed deeply, and looking in her eyes
+for a little, fixedly, he said&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Alice, darling, you must try to think what sacrifice you can
+make to save your wretched brother.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Their eyes met as she looked up, her hands about his neck,
+his on her shoulders; he drew his sister to him quickly, and
+with another kiss, turned, ran down stairs, got into his cab, and
+drove down the avenue. She stood looking after him with a
+heavy heart. How happy they two might have been, if it had
+not been for the one incorrigible insanity!</p>
+
+<p>About an hour later, as the sun was near its setting, she put
+on her hat and short grey cloak, and stepped out into its level
+beams, and looked round smiling. The golden glow and
+transparent shadows made that beautiful face look more than
+ever lovely. All around the air was ringing with the farewell
+songs of the small birds, and, with a heart almost rejoicing in
+sympathy with that beautiful hour, she walked lightly to the
+old garden, which in that luminous air, looked, she thought, so
+sad and pretty.</p>
+
+<p>The well-worn aphorism of the Frenchman, &ldquo;History repeats
+itself,&rdquo; was about to assert itself. Sometimes it comes in literal
+sobriety, sometimes in derisive travesti, sometimes in tragic
+aggravation.</p>
+
+<p>She is in the garden now. The associations of place recall
+her strange interview with Mr. Longcluse but a few months
+before. Since then a blight has fallen on the scenery, and
+what a change upon the persons! The fruit-leaves are yellow
+now, and drifts of them lie upon the walks. Mantling ivy,
+as before, canopies the door, interlaced with climbing roses;
+but they have long shed their honours. This thick mass of
+dark green foliage and thorny tendrils forms a deep arched porch,
+in the shadow of which, suddenly, as on her return she reached
+it, she sees Mr. Longcluse standing within a step or two of
+her.</p>
+
+<p>He raises his hand, it might be in entreaty, it might be in
+menace; she could not, in the few alarmed moments in which
+she gazed at his dark eyes and pale equivocal face, determine
+anything.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Miss Arden, you may hate me; you can't despise me. You
+<em>must</em> hear me, because you are in my power. I relent, mind
+<a class="pagenum" name="Page_353" title="353"> </a>
+you, thus far, that I give you one chance more of reconciliation;
+don't, for God's sake, throw it from you!&rdquo; (he was extending his
+open hand to receive hers). &ldquo;Why should you prefer an unequal
+war with me? I tell you frankly you are in my power&mdash;don't
+misunderstand me&mdash;in <em>my power</em> to this degree, that
+you shall <em>voluntarily</em>, as the more tolerable of two alternatives,
+submit with abject acquiescence to every one of my conditions.
+Here is my hand; think of the degradation I submit to in asking
+you to take it. You gave me no chance when I asked forgiveness.
+I tender you a full forgiveness; here is my hand,
+beware how you despise it.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Fearful as he appeared in her sight, her fear gave way before
+her kindling spirit. She had stood before him pale as death&mdash;anger
+now fired her eye and cheek.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;How dare you, Sir, hold such language to me! Do you
+suppose, if I had told my brother of your cowardice and insolence
+as I left the abbey the other day, you would have dared
+to speak to him, much less to me? Let me pass, and never
+while you live presume to address me more.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Longcluse, with a slow recoil, smiling fixedly, and bowing,
+drew back and opened the door for her to pass. He did not any
+longer look like a villain whose heart had failed him.</p>
+
+<p>Her heart fluttered violently with fear as she saw that he
+stepped out after her, and walked by her side toward the house.
+She quickened her pace in great alarm.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;If you had liked me ever so little,&rdquo; said he in that faint and
+horrible tone she remembered&mdash;&ldquo;one, the smallest particle, of
+disinterested liking&mdash;the grain of mustard-seed&mdash;I would have
+had you fast, and made you happy, made you <em>adore</em> me; <em>such</em>
+adoration that you could have heard from my own lips the confession
+of my crimes, and loved me still&mdash;loved me more
+desperately. Now that you hate me, and I hate <em>you</em>, and have
+you in my power, and while I hate still admire you&mdash;still choose
+you for my wife&mdash;you shall hear the same story, and think me
+all the more dreadful. You sought to degrade me, and I'll
+humble you in the dust. Suppose I tell you I'm a criminal&mdash;the
+kind of man you have read of in trials, and can't understand,
+and can scarcely even believe in&mdash;the kind of man that seems
+to you as unaccountable and monstrous as a ghost&mdash;your terrors
+and horror will make my triumph exquisite with an immense
+delight. I don't want to smooth the way for you; you do nothing
+for me. I disdain hypocrisy. Terror drives you on; fate
+coerces you; you can't help yourself, and my delight is to make
+the plunge terrible. I reveal myself that you may know the sort
+of person you are yoked to. Your sacrifice shall be the agony
+of agonies, the death of deaths, and yet you'll find yourself unable
+to resist. I'll make you submissive as ever patient was to
+<a class="pagenum" name="Page_354" title="354"> </a>
+a mad doctor. If it took years to do it, you shall never stir out
+of this house till it is done. Every spark of insolence in your
+nature shall be trampled out; I'll break you thoroughly. The
+sound of my step shall make your heart jump; a look from me
+shall make you dumb for an hour. You shall not be able to
+take your eyes off me while I'm in sight, or to forget me for a
+moment when I am gone. The smallest thing you do, the least
+word you speak, the very thoughts of your heart, shall all be
+shaped under one necessity and one fear.&rdquo; (She had reached
+the hall door). &ldquo;Up the steps! Yes; you wish to enter?
+Certainly.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>With flashing eyes and head erect, the beautiful girl stepped
+into the hall, without looking to the right or to the left, or
+uttering one word, and walked quickly to the foot of the great
+stair.</p>
+
+<p>If she thought that Mr. Longcluse would respect the barrier
+of the threshold, she was mistaken. He entered but one step
+behind her, shut the heavy hall door with a crash, dropped the
+key into his coat pocket, and signing with his finger to the man
+in the room to the right, that person stood up briskly, and prepared
+for action. He closed the door again, saying simply,
+&ldquo;I'll call.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>The young lady, hearing his step, turned round and stood on
+the stair, confronting him fiercely.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You must leave this house this moment,&rdquo; she cried, with a
+stamp, with gleaming eyes and very pale.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;By-and-by,&rdquo; he replied, standing before her.</p>
+
+<p>Could this be the safe old house in which childish days had
+passed, in which all around were always friendly and familiar
+faces? The window stood reflected upon the wall beside her in
+dim sunset light, and the shadows of the flowers sharp and still
+that stood there.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I have friends here who will turn you out, Sir!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You have <em>no</em> friends here,&rdquo; he replied, with the same fixed
+smile.</p>
+
+<p>She hesitated; she stepped down, but stopped in the hall.
+She remembered instantly that, as she turned, she had seen him
+take the key from the hall door.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;My brother will protect me.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Is he here?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;He'll call you to account to-morrow, when he comes.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Will he say so?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Always&mdash;brave, true Richard!&rdquo; she sobbed, with a strange
+cry in her words.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;He'll do as I bid him: he's a forger, in my power.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>To her wild stare he replied with a low, faint laugh. She
+clasped her fingers over her temples.</p>
+
+<p><a class="pagenum" name="Page_355" title="355"> </a>&ldquo;Oh! no, no, no, no, no, no!&rdquo; she screamed, and suddenly
+she rushed into the great room at her right. Her brother&mdash;was
+it a phantom?&mdash;stood before her. With one long, shrill scream,
+she threw herself into his arms, and cried, &ldquo;It's a lie, darling,
+it's a lie!&rdquo; and she had fainted.</p>
+
+<p>He laid her in the great chair by the fire-place. With white
+lips, and with one fist shaking wildly in the air, he said, with a
+dreadful shiver in his voice,&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You villain! you villain! you villain!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Don't you be a fool,&rdquo; said Longcluse. &ldquo;Ring for the maid.
+There must have been a crisis some time. I'm giving you a fair
+chance&mdash;trying to save you; they all faint&mdash;it's a trick with
+women.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Longcluse looked into her lifeless face, with something of pity
+and horror mingling in the villany of his countenance.</p>
+
+<div class="image-center chapter-end">
+<img src="images/ep01.png" width="216" height="112" alt=""/>
+</div>
+
+<div class="image-center chapter-beginning"><a class="pagenum" name="Page_356" title="356"> </a>
+<img src="images/ch03.png" width="472" height="107" alt=""/>
+</div>
+
+<h2 class="no-break">CHAPTER LXXVI.<br/>
+<small>PH&OElig;BE CHIFFINCH.</small></h2>
+
+<div><img class="drop-cap" src="images/drop_m.png" width="72" height="73" alt=""/></div>
+
+<p class="drop-cap drop-wide"><span class="upper-case">Mr. Longcluse</span> passed into the inner room, as he
+heard a step approaching from the hall. It was
+Louisa Diaper, in whose care, with the simple remedy
+of cold water, the young lady recovered. She was
+conveyed to her room, and Richard Arden followed, at Longcluse's
+command, to &ldquo;keep things quiet.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>In an agony of remorse, he remained with his sister's hand in
+his, sitting by the bed on which she lay. Longcluse had spoken
+with the resolution that a few sharp and short words should
+accomplish the crisis, and show her plainly that her brother was,
+in the most literal and terrible sense, in his power, and thus, indirectly,
+she also. Perhaps, if she must know the fact, it was as
+well she should know it now.</p>
+
+<p>Longcluse, I suppose, had reckoned upon Richard's throwing
+himself upon his sister's mercy. He thought he had done so
+before, and moved her as he would have wished. Longcluse, no
+doubt, had spoken to her, expecting to find her in a different
+mood. Had she yielded, what sort of husband would he have
+made her? Not cruel, I daresay. Proud of her, he would have
+been. She should have had the best diamonds in England.
+Jealous, violent when crossed, but with all his malice and
+severity, easily by Alice to have been won, had she cared to win
+him, to tenderness.</p>
+
+<p>Was Sir Richard now seconding his scheme?</p>
+
+<p>Sir Richard had no plan&mdash;none for escape, none for a catastrophe,
+none for acting upon Alice's feelings.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I am so agitated&mdash;in such despair, so stunned! If I had
+but one clear hour! Oh, God! if I had but one clear hour to
+think in!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>He was now trying to persuade Alice that Longcluse had, in
+<a class="pagenum" name="Page_357" title="357"> </a>
+his rage, used exaggerated language&mdash;that it was true he was in
+his power, but it was for a large sum of money, for which he
+was his debtor.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Yes, darling,&rdquo; he whispered, &ldquo;only be firm. I shall get
+away, and take you with me&mdash;only be secret, and don't mind
+one word he says when he is angry&mdash;he is literally a madman;
+there is no limit to the violence and absurdity of what he
+says.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Is he still in the house?&rdquo; she whispered.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Not he.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Are you certain?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Perfectly; with all his rant, he dares not stay: it would be
+a police-office affair. He's gone long ago.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Thank God!&rdquo; she said, with a shudder.</p>
+
+<p>Their agitated talk continued for some time longer. At last,
+darkly and suddenly, as usual, he took his leave.</p>
+
+<p>When her brother had gone, she touched the bell for Louisa
+Diaper. A stranger appeared.</p>
+
+<p>The stranger had a great deal of pink ribbon in her cap, she
+looked shrewd enough, and with a pair of rather good eyes; she
+looked curiously and steadily on the young lady.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Who are you?&rdquo; said Alice, sitting up. &ldquo;I rang for my
+maid, Louisa Diaper.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Please, my lady,&rdquo; she answers, with a short curtsey, &ldquo;she
+went into town to fetch some things here from Sir Richard's
+house.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;How long ago?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Just when you was getting better, please, my lady.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;When she returns send her to me. What is your name?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Ph&oelig;be Chiffinch, please 'm.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;And you are here<span style="white-space: nowrap;">&mdash;&mdash;</span>&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;In her place, please my lady.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Well, when she comes back you can assist. We shall have
+a great deal to do, and I like your face, Ph&oelig;be, and I'm so
+lonely, I think I'll get you to sit here in the window near me.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>And on a sudden the young lady burst into tears, and sobbed
+and wept bitterly.</p>
+
+<p>The new maid was at her side, pouring all sorts of consolation
+into her ear, with odd phrases&mdash;quite intelligible, I daresay, over
+the bar of the &ldquo;Guy of Warwick&rdquo;&mdash;dropping h's in all directions,
+and bowling down grammatic rules like nine-pins.</p>
+
+<p>She was wonderfully taken by the kind looks and tones of the
+pretty lady whom she saw in this distress, and with the silk
+curtains drawn back in the fading flush of evening.</p>
+
+<p>Hard work, hard fare, and harder words had been her portion
+from her orphaned childhood upward, at the old &ldquo;Guy of
+Warwick,&rdquo; with its dubious customers, failing business, and
+<a class="pagenum" name="Page_358" title="358"> </a>
+bitter and grumbling old hostess. Shrewd, hard, and not over-nice
+had Miss Ph&oelig;be grown up in that godless school.</p>
+
+<p>But she had taken a fancy, as the phrase is, to the looks of
+the young lady, and still more to her voice and words, that in
+her ears sounded so new and strange. There was not an unpleasant
+sense, too, of the superiority of rank and refinement
+which inspires an admiring awe in her kind; and so, in a voice
+that was rather sweet and very cheery, she offered, when the
+young lady was better, to sit by the bed and tell her a story, or
+sing her a song.</p>
+
+<p>Everyone knows how his view of his own case may vary
+within an hour. Alice was now of opinion that there was no
+reason to reject her brother's version of the terrifying situation.
+A man who could act like Mr. Longcluse, could, of course, say
+anything. She had begun to grow more cheerful, and in a little
+while she accepted the offer of her companion, and heard, first
+a story, and then a song; and, after all, she talked with her for
+some time.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Tell me, now, what servants there are in the house,&rdquo; asked
+Alice.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Only two women and myself, please, Miss.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Is there anyone else in the house, besides ourselves?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>The girl looked down, and up again, in Alice's eyes, and then
+away to the floor at the other end of the room.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I was told, Ma'am, not to talk of nothing here, Miss, except
+my own business, please, my lady.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;My God! This girl mayn't speak truth to me,&rdquo; exclaimed
+Alice, clasping her hands aghast.</p>
+
+<p>The girl looked up uneasily.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I should be sent away, Ma'am, if I do.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Look&mdash;listen: in this strait you must be for or against me;
+you can't be divided. For God's sake be a friend to me now.
+I may yet be the best friend you ever had. Come, Ph&oelig;be, trust
+me, and I'll never betray you.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>She took the girl's hand. Ph&oelig;be did not speak. She looked
+in her face earnestly for some moments, and then down, and up
+again.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I don't mind. I'll do what I can for you, Ma'am; I'll tell
+you what I know. But if you tell them, Ma'am, it will be awful
+bad for me, my lady.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>She looked again, very much frightened, in her face, and was
+silent.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;No one shall ever know but I. Trust me entirely, and I'll
+never forget it to you.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Well, Ma'am, there is two men.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Who are they?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Two men, please 'm. I knows one on 'em&mdash;he was keeper
+<a class="pagenum" name="Page_359" title="359"> </a>
+on the &lsquo;Guy o' Warwick,&rsquo; please, my lady, when there was a
+hexecution in the 'ouse. They're both sheriff's men.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;And what are they doing here?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;A hexecution, my lady.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;That is, to sell the furniture and everything for a debt, isn't
+that it?&rdquo; inquired the lady, bewildered.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Well, that was it below at the &lsquo;Guy o' Warwick,&rsquo; Miss; but
+Mr. Vargers, he was courting me down there at the &lsquo;Guy o'
+Warwick,&rsquo; and offered marriage if I would 'av 'ad him, and he
+tells me heverything, and he says that there's a paper to take
+you, please, my lady.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Take <em>me</em>?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Yes, my lady; he read it to me in the room by the hall-door.
+Halice Harden, spinster, and something about the old
+guv'nor's will, please; and his horder is to take you, please,
+Miss, if you should offer to go out of the door; and there's two
+on 'em, and they watches turn about, so you can't leave the
+'ouse, please, my lady; and if you try they'll only lock you up a
+prisoner in one room a-top o' the 'ouse; and, for your life, my
+lady, don't tell no one I said a word.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Oh! Ph&oelig;be. What can they mean? What's to become of
+me? Somehow or other you must get me out of this house.
+Help me, for God's sake! I'll throw myself from the window&mdash;I'll
+kill myself rather than remain in their power.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Hush! My lady, please, I may think of something yet.
+But don't you do nothing 'and hover 'ead. You must have
+patience. They won't be so sharp, maybe, in a day or two.
+I'll get you out if I can; and, if I can't, then God's will be done.
+And I'll make out what I can from Mr. Vargers; and don't you
+let no one think you likes me, and I'll be sly enough, you may
+count on me, my lady.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Trembling all over, Alice kissed her.</p>
+
+<div class="image-center chapter-end">
+<img src="images/ep24.png" width="281" height="66" alt=""/>
+</div>
+
+<div class="image-center chapter-beginning"><a class="pagenum" name="Page_360" title="360"> </a>
+<img src="images/ch24.png" width="466" height="100" alt=""/>
+</div>
+
+<h2 class="no-break">CHAPTER LXXVII.<br/>
+<small>MORE NEWS OF PAUL DAVIES.</small></h2>
+
+<div><img class="drop-cap" src="images/drop_l.png" width="70" height="72" alt=""/></div>
+
+<p class="drop-cap"><span class="upper-case">Louisa Diaper</span> did not appear that night, nor next
+morning. She had been spirited away like the <ins title="rest">rest.</ins>
+Sir Richard had told her that his sister desired that
+she should go into town, and stay till next day, under
+the care of the housekeeper in town, and that he would bring
+her a list of commissions which she was to do for her mistress
+preparatory to starting for Yorkshire. I daresay this young
+lady liked her excursion to town well enough. It was not till
+the night after that she started for the North.</p>
+
+<p>Alice Arden, for a time, lost heart altogether. It was no
+wonder she should.</p>
+
+<p>That her only brother should be an accomplice against her,
+in a plot so appalling, was enough to overpower her; her horror
+of Longcluse, the effectual nature of her imprisonment, and the
+strange and, as she feared, unscrupulous people by whom she
+had been so artfully surrounded, heightened her terrors to the
+pitch of distraction.</p>
+
+<p>At times she was almost wild; at others stupefied in despair;
+at others, again, soothed by the kindly intrepidity of Ph&oelig;be,
+she became more collected. Sometimes she would throw herself
+on her bed, and sob for an hour in helpless agony; and
+then, exhausted and overpowered, she would fall for a time into
+a deep sleep, from which she would start, for several minutes,
+without the power of collecting her thoughts, and with only the
+stifled cry, &ldquo;What is it?&mdash;Where am I?&rdquo; and a terrified look
+round.</p>
+
+<p>One day, in a calmer mood, as she sat in her room after a
+long talk with Ph&oelig;be, the girl came beside her chair with an
+oddly made key, with a little strap of white leather to the
+handle, in her hands.</p>
+
+<p><a class="pagenum" name="Page_361" title="361"> </a>&ldquo;Here's a latch-key, Miss; maybe you know what it opens?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Where did you find it?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;In the old china vase over the chimney, please 'm.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Let me see&mdash;oh! dear, yes, this opens the door in the wall
+of the grounds, in that direction,&rdquo; and she pointed. &ldquo;Poor
+papa lent it to my drawing-master. He lived somewhere beyond
+that, and used to let himself in by it when he came to give me
+my lessons.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I remember that door well, Miss,&rdquo; said Ph&oelig;be, looking
+earnestly on the key&mdash;&ldquo;Mr. Crozier let me out that way, one
+day. Mr. Longcluse has put strangers, you know, in the gatehouse.
+That's shut against us. I'll tell you what, Miss&mdash;wait&mdash;well,
+I'll <em>think</em>. I'll keep this key safe, anyhow; and&mdash;the more
+the merrier,&rdquo; she added with a sudden alacrity, and lifting her
+finger, by way of signal, for everything now was done with
+caution here, she left the room, and passed through the suite to
+the landing, and quietly took out the door-keys, one by one, and
+returned with her spoil to Alice's room.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You thought they might lock us up?&rdquo; whispered Alice.</p>
+
+<p>The girl nodded. &ldquo;No harm to have 'em, Miss&mdash;it won't
+hurt us.&rdquo; She folded them tightly in a handkerchief, and thrust
+the parcel as far as her arm could reach between the mattress
+and the bed. &ldquo;I'll rip the ticken a bit just now, and stitch
+them in,&rdquo; whispered the girl.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Didn't I hear another key clink as you put your hand in?&rdquo;
+asked Alice.</p>
+
+<p>The girl smiled, and drew out a large key, and nodded, still
+smiling as she replaced it.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;What does that open?&rdquo; whispered Alice eagerly.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;<em>Nothing</em>, Miss,&rdquo; said the girl gravely&mdash;&ldquo;it's the key of the
+old back-door lock; but there's a new one there now, and this
+won't open nothing. But I have a use for it. I'll tell you all in
+time, Miss; and, please, you must keep up your heart, mind.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Sir Richard Arden was not the cold villain you may suppose.
+He was resolved to make an effort of some kind for the extrication
+of his sister. He could not bear to open his dreadful
+situation to his Uncle David, nor to kill himself, nor to defy the
+vengeance of Longcluse. He would effect her escape and his
+own simultaneously. In the meantime he must acquiesce,
+ostensibly at least, in every step determined on by Longcluse.</p>
+
+<p>It was a bright autumnal day as Sir Richard and Mr. Longcluse
+took the rail to Southampton. Longcluse had his reasons
+for taking the young baronet with him.</p>
+
+<p>It was near the hour, by the time they got there, when David
+Arden would arrive from his northern point of departure.
+Longcluse looked animated&mdash;smiling; but a stupendous load
+lay on his heart. A single clumsy phrase in the letter of that
+<a class="pagenum" name="Page_362" title="362"> </a>
+detective scoundrel might be enough to direct the formidable
+suspicions of that energetic old gentleman upon him. The next
+hour might throw him altogether upon the defensive, and
+paralyse his schemes.</p>
+
+<p>Alice Arden, you little dream of the man and the route by
+which, possibly, deliverance is speeding to you.</p>
+
+<p>Near the steps of the large hotel that looks seaward, Longcluse
+and Sir Richard <ins title="lounges">lounge</ins>, expecting the arrival of David
+Arden almost momentarily. Up drives a fly, piled with portmanteaus,
+hat-case, dressing-case, and all the other travelling
+appurtenances of a comfortable wayfarer. Beside the driver
+sits a servant. The fly draws up at the door near them.</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Longcluse's seasoned heart throbs once or twice oddly.
+Out gets Uncle David, looking brown and healthy after his
+northern excursion. On reaching the top of the steps, he halts,
+and turns round to look about him. Again Mr. Longcluse feels
+the same odd sensation.</p>
+
+<p>Uncle David recognises Sir Richard, and smiling greets him.
+He runs down the steps to meet him. After they have shaken
+hands, and, a little more coldly, he and Mr. Longcluse, he
+says,&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You are not looking yourself, Dick; you ought to have run
+down to the moors, and got up an appetite. How is Alice?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Alice? Oh! Alice is very well, thanks.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I should like to run up to Mortlake to see her. She has
+been complaining, eh?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;No, no&mdash;better,&rdquo; says Sir Richard.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;And you forget to tell your uncle what you told me,&rdquo; interposes
+Mr. Longcluse, &ldquo;that Miss Arden left Mortlake for Yorkshire
+yesterday.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Oh!&rdquo; said Uncle David, turning to Richard again.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;And the servants went before&mdash;two or three days ago,&rdquo; said
+Sir Richard, looking down for a moment, and hastening, under
+that clear eye, to speak a little truth.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Well, I wish she had come with us,&rdquo; said David Arden;
+&ldquo;but as she could not be persuaded, I'm glad she is making a
+little change of air and scene, in any direction. By-the-bye,
+Mr. Longcluse, you had a letter, had not you, from our friend,
+Paul Davies?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Yes; he seemed to think he had found a clue&mdash;from Paris it
+was&mdash;and I wrote to tell him to spare no expense in pushing his
+inquiries and to draw upon me.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Well, I have some news to tell you. His exploring voyage
+will come to nothing; you did not hear?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;No.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Why, the poor fellow's dead. I got a letter&mdash;it reached me,
+forwarded from my house in town, yesterday, from the person
+<a class="pagenum" name="Page_363" title="363"> </a>
+who hires the lodgings&mdash;to say he had died of scarlatina very
+suddenly, and sending an inventory of the things he left. It is
+a pity, for he seemed a smart fellow, and sanguine about getting
+to the bottom of it.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;An awful pity!&rdquo; exclaimed Longcluse, who felt as if a
+mountain were lifted from his heart, and the entire firmament
+had lighted up; &ldquo;an awful pity! Are you quite sure?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;There can't be a doubt, I'm sorry to say. Then, as Alice
+has taken wing, I'll pursue my first plan, and cross by the next
+mail.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;For Paris?&rdquo; inquired Mr. Longcluse, carelessly.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Yes, Sir, for Paris,&rdquo; answered Uncle David deliberately,
+looking at him; &ldquo;yes, for Paris.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>And then followed a little chat on indifferent subjects. Then
+Uncle David mentioned that he had an appointment, and must
+dine with the dull but honest fellow who had asked him to meet
+him here on a matter of business, which would have done just
+as well next year, but he wished it now. Uncle David nodded,
+and waved his hand, as on entering the door he gave them a
+farewell smile over his shoulder.</p>
+
+<div class="image-center chapter-end">
+<img src="images/ep04.png" width="232" height="128" alt=""/>
+</div>
+
+<div class="image-center chapter-beginning"><a class="pagenum" name="Page_364" title="364"> </a>
+<img src="images/ch28.png" width="444" height="86" alt=""/>
+</div>
+
+<h2 class="no-break">CHAPTER LXXVIII.<br/>
+<small>THE CATACOMBS.</small></h2>
+
+<div><img class="drop-cap" src="images/drop_a.png" width="72" height="73" alt=""/></div>
+
+<p class="drop-cap"><span class="upper-case">At</span> his disappearance, for Sir Richard the air darkened
+as when, in the tropics, the sun sets without a twilight,
+and the silence of an awful night descended.</p>
+
+<p>It seemed that safety had been so near. He had
+laid his hand upon it, and had let it glide ungrasped between
+his fingers; and now the sky was black above him, and an unfathomable
+sea beneath.</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Longcluse was in great spirits. He had grown for a
+time like the Walter Longcluse of a year before.</p>
+
+<p>They two dined together, and after dinner Mr. Longcluse
+grew happy, and as he sat with his glass by him, he sang, looking
+over the waves, a sweet little sentimental song, about ships that
+pass at sea, and smiles and tears, and &ldquo;true, boys, true,&rdquo; and
+&ldquo;heaven shows a glimpse of its blue.&rdquo; And he walks with Sir
+Richard to the station, and he says, low, as he leans and looks
+into the carriage window, of which young Arden was the only
+occupant&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Be true to me now, and we may make it up yet.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>And so saying, he gives his hand a single pressure as he looks
+hard in his eyes.</p>
+
+<p>The bell had rung. He was remaining there, he said, for
+another train. The clapping of the doors had ceased. He
+stood back. The whistle blew its long piercing yell, and as the
+train began to glide towards London, the young man saw the
+white face of Walter Longcluse in deep shadow, as he stood
+with his back to the lamp, still turned towards him.</p>
+
+<p>The train was now thundering on its course; the solitary
+lamp glimmered in the roof. He threw himself back, with his
+foot against the opposite seat.</p>
+
+<p><a class="pagenum" name="Page_365" title="365"> </a>&ldquo;Good God! what is one to resolve! All men are cruel
+when they are exasperated. Might not good yet be made of
+Longcluse? What creatures women are!&mdash;what fools! How
+easy all might have been made, with the least temper and
+reflection! What d<span style="white-space: nowrap;">&mdash;&mdash;</span>d selfishness!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<hr class="thought-break"/>
+
+<p>Uncle David was now in Paris. The moon was shining over
+that beautiful city. In a lonely street, in a quarter which fashion
+had long forsaken&mdash;over whose pavement, as yet unconscious of
+the Revolution, had passed, in the glare of torchlight, the carved
+and emblazoned carriages of an aristocracy, as shadowy now as
+the courts of the Cæsars&mdash;his footsteps are echoing.</p>
+
+<p>A huge house presents its front. He stops and examines it
+carefully for a few seconds. It is the house of which he is in
+search.</p>
+
+<p>At one time the Baron Vanboeren had received patients from
+the country, to reside in this house. For the last year, during
+which he had been gathering together his wealth, and detaching
+himself from business, he had discontinued this, and had
+gradually got rid of his establishment.</p>
+
+<p>When David Arden rang the bell at the hall-door, which he
+had to do repeatedly, it was answered at last by an old woman,
+high-shouldered, skin and bone, with a great nose, and big jaw-bones,
+and a high-cauled cap. This lean creature looks at him
+with a vexed and hollow eye. Her bony arm rests on the lock
+of the hall-door, and she blocks the narrow aperture between its
+edge and the massive door-case. She inquires in very nasal
+French what Monsieur desires.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I wish to see Monsieur the Baron, if he will permit me an
+interview,&rdquo; answered Mr. Arden in very fair French.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Monsieur the Baron is not visible; but if Monsieur will,
+notwithstanding, leave any message he pleases for Monsieur the
+Baron, I will take care he receives it punctually.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;But Monsieur the Baron appointed me to call to-night at
+ten o'clock.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Is Monsieur sure of that?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Perfectly.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Eh, very well; but, if he pleases, I must first learn Monsieur's
+name.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;My name is Arden.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I believe Monsieur is right.&rdquo; She took a bit of notepaper
+from her capacious pocket, and peering at it, spelled aloud,
+&ldquo;D-a-v-i-d<span style="white-space: nowrap;">&mdash;&mdash;</span>&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;A-r-d-e-n,&rdquo; interrupted and continued the visitor, spelling
+his name, with a smile.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;A-r-d-e-n,&rdquo; she followed, reading slowly from her paper;
+&ldquo;yes, Monsieur is right. You see, this paper says, &lsquo;Admit
+<a class="pagenum" name="Page_366" title="366"> </a>
+Monsieur David Arden to an interview.&rsquo; Enter, if you please
+Monsieur, and follow me.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>It was a decayed house of superb proportions, but of a fashion
+long passed away. The gaunt old woman, with a bunch of
+large keys clinking at her side, stalked up the broad stairs and
+into a gallery, and through several rooms opening <i lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">en suite</i>.
+The rooms were hung with cobwebs, dusty, empty, and the
+shutters closed, except here and there where the moonlight
+gleamed through chinks and seams.</p>
+
+<p>David Arden, before he had seen the Baron Vanboeren
+in London, had pictured him in imagination a tall old man
+with classic features, and manners courteous and somewhat
+stately.</p>
+
+<p>We do not fabricate such images; they rise like exhalations
+from a few scattered data, and present themselves spontaneously.
+It is this self-creation that invests them with so much reality in
+our imaginations, and subjects us to so odd a surprise when the
+original turns out quite unlike the portrait with which we have
+been amusing ourselves.</p>
+
+<p>She now pushed open a door, and said, &ldquo;Monsieur the Baron
+here is arrived Monsieur David d'Ardennes.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>The room in which he now stood was spacious, but very nearly
+dark. The shutters were closed outside, and the moonlight that
+entered came through the circular hole cut in each. A large
+candle on a bracket burned at the further end of the room.
+There the baron stood. A reflector which interposed between
+the candle and the door at which David Arden entered directed
+its light strongly upon something which the baron held, and
+laid upon the table, in his hand; and now that he turned toward
+his visitor, it was concentrated upon his large face, revealing,
+with the force of a Rembrandt, all its furrows and finer wrinkles.
+He stood out against a background of darkness with remarkable
+force.</p>
+
+<p>The baron stood before him&mdash;a short man in a red waistcoat.
+He looked more broad-shouldered and short-necked than ever
+in his shirt-sleeves. He had an instrument in his hand resembling
+a small bit and brace, and some chips and sawdust on his
+flannel waistcoat, which he brushed off with two or three sweeps
+of his short fat fingers. He looked now like a grim old mechanic.
+There was no vivacity in his putty-coloured features,
+but there were promptitude and decision in every abrupt gesture.
+It was his towering, bald forehead, and something of command
+and savage energy in his lowering face, that redeemed the <i lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">tout
+ensemble</i> from an almost brutal vulgarity.</p>
+
+<p>The baron was not in the slightest degree &ldquo;put out,&rdquo; as the
+phrase is, at being detected in his present occupation and
+<i lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">deshabille</i>.</p>
+
+<p><a class="pagenum" name="Page_367" title="367"> </a>He bowed twice to David Arden, and said, in English, with a
+little foreign accent&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Here is a chair, Monsieur Arden; but you can hardly see it
+until your eyes have grown a little accustomed to our
+<i>crépuscula</i>.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>This was true enough, for David Arden, though he saw him
+advance a step or two, could not have known what he held in the
+hand that was in shadow. The sound, indeed, of the legs of the
+chair, as he set it down upon the floor, he heard.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I should make you an apology, Mr. Arden, if I were any
+longer in my own home, which I am not, although this is still
+my house; for I have dismissed my servants, sold my furniture,
+and sent what things I cared to retain over the frontier to my
+new habitation, whither I shall soon follow; and this house too,
+I shall sell. I have already two or three gudgeons nibbling,
+Monsieur.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;This house must have been the hotel of some distinguished
+family, Baron; it is nobly proportioned,&rdquo; said David Arden.</p>
+
+<p>As his eye became accustomed to the gloom, David Arden
+saw traces of gilding on the walls. The shattered frames on
+which the tapestry was stretched in old times remained in the
+panels, with crops of small, rusty nails visible. The faint candle-light
+glimmered on a ponderous gilded cornice, which had also
+sustained violence. The floor was bare, with a great deal of
+litter, and some scanty furniture. There was a lathe near the
+spot where David Arden stood, and shavings and splinters under
+his feet. There was a great block with a vice attached. In a
+portion of the fire-place was built a furnace. There were
+pincers and other instruments lying about the room, which had
+more the appearance of an untidy workshop than of a study, and
+seemed a suitable enough abode for the uncouth figure that confronted
+him.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Ha! Monsieur,&rdquo; growls the baron, &ldquo;stone walls have ears,
+you say if only they had tongues; what tales <em>these</em> could tell!
+This house was one of Madame du Barry's, and was sacked in
+the great Revolution. The mirrors were let into the plaster in
+the walls. In some of the rooms there are large fragments still
+stuck in the wall so fast, you would need a hammer and chisel to
+dislodge and break them up. This room was an ante-room, and
+admitted to the lady's bed-room by two doors, this and that. The
+panels of that other, by which you entered from the stair, were
+of mirror. They were quite smashed. The furniture, I suppose,
+flew out of the window; everything was broken up in small bits,
+and torn to rags, or carried off to the broker after the first fury,
+and <i lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">sansculotte</i> families came in and took possession of the
+wrecked apartments. You will say then, what was left? The
+bricks, the stones, hardly the plaster on the walls. Yet, Monsieur
+<a class="pagenum" name="Page_368" title="368"> </a>
+Arden, I have discovered some of the best treasures the house
+contained, and they are at present in this room. Are you a
+collector, Monsieur Arden?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Uncle David disclaimed the honourable imputation. He was
+thinking of cutting all this short, and bringing the baron to the
+point. The old man was at the period when the egotism of age
+asserts itself, and was garrulous, and being, perhaps, despotic
+and fierce (he looked both), he might easily take fire and become
+impracticable. Therefore, on second thoughts, he was cautious.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You can now see more plainly,&rdquo; said the baron. &ldquo;Will you approach?
+Concealed by a double covering of strong paper pasted
+over it, and painted and gilded, each of these two doors on its six
+panels contains six distinct master-pieces of Watteau's. I have
+<ins title="know">known</ins> that for ten years, and have postponed removing them.
+Twelve Watteaus, as fine as any in the world! I would not trust
+their removal to any other hand, and so, the panel comes out
+without a shake. Come here, Monsieur, if you please. This
+candle affords a light sufficient to see, at least, some of the
+beauties of these incomparable works.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Thanks, Baron, a glance will suffice, for I am nothing of an
+artist.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>He approached. It was true that his sight had grown accustomed
+to the obscurity, for he could now see the baron's features
+much more distinctly. His large waxen face was shorn smooth,
+except on the upper lip, where a short moustache still bristled;
+short black eyebrows contrasted also with the bald massive forehead,
+and round the eyes was a complication of mean and
+cunning wrinkles. Some peculiar lines between these contracted
+brows gave a character of ferocity to this forbidding
+and sensual face.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Now! See there! Those four pictures&mdash;I would not sell
+those four Watteaus for one hundred thousand francs. And the
+other door is worth the same. Ha!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You are lucky, Baron.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I think so. I do not wish to part with them: I don't think
+of selling them. See the folds of that brocade! See the ease
+and grace of the lady in the sacque, who sits on the bank there,
+under the myrtles, with the guitar on her lap! and see the
+animation and elegance of that dancing boy with the
+tambourine! This is a <i lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">chef-d'&oelig;uvre</i>. I ought not to part with
+that, on any terms&mdash;no, never! You no doubt know many
+collectors, wealthy men, in England. Look at that shot silk,
+green and purple; and whom do you take that to be a portrait
+of, that lady with the castanets?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>He was pointing out each object, on which he descanted, with
+his stumpy finger, his hands being, I am bound to admit, by no
+means clean.</p>
+
+<p><a class="pagenum" name="Page_369" title="369"> </a>&ldquo;If you do happen to know such people, nevertheless, I should
+not object to your telling them where this treasure may be seen,
+I've no objection. I should not like to part with them, that is
+true. No, no, <em>no</em>; but every man may be tempted, it is possible&mdash;possible,
+just possible.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I shall certainly mention them to some friends.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Wealthy men, of course,&rdquo; said the baron.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;It is an expensive taste, Baron, and none but wealthy people
+can indulge it.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;True, and these would be <em>very</em> expensive. They are unique;
+that lady there is the <cite>Du Barry</cite>&mdash;a portrait worth, alone, six
+thousand francs. Ha! he! Yes, when I take zese out and
+place zem, as I mean before I go, to be seen, they will bring all
+Europe together. <i lang="de" xml:lang="de">Mit speck fangt man mause</i>&mdash;with bacon one
+catches mice!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;No doubt they will excite attention, Baron. But I feel I am
+wasting your time and abusing your courtesy in permitting my
+visit, the immediate object of which was to earnestly beg from
+you some information which, I think, no one else can give me.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Information? Oh! ah! Pray resume your chair, Sir.
+Information? yes, it is quite possible I may have information
+such as you need, Heaven knows! But knowledge, they say, is
+power, and if I do you a service I expect as much from you.
+<i lang="de" xml:lang="de">Eine hand wascht die and're</i>&mdash;one hand, Monsieur, washes ze
+ozer. No man parts wis zat which is valuable, to strangers,
+wisout a proper honorarium. I receive no more patients here;
+but you understand, I may be induced to attend a patient: I
+may be <em>tempted</em>, you understand.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;But this is not a case of attending a patient, Baron,&rdquo; said
+David Arden, a little haughtily.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;And what ze devil <em>is</em> it, then?&rdquo; said the baron, turning on
+him suddenly. &ldquo;Monsieur will pardon me, but we professional
+men must turn our time and knowledge to account, do you see?
+And we don't give eizer wizout being paid, and <em>well</em> paid for
+them, eh?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Of course. I meant nothing else,&rdquo; said David Arden.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Then, Sir, we understand one another so far, and that saves
+time. Now, what information can the Baron Vanboeren give to
+Monsieur David Arden?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I think you would prefer my putting my questions quite
+straight.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Straight as a sword-thrust, Sir.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Then, Baron, I want to know whether you were acquainted
+with two persons, Yelland Mace and Walter Longcluse.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Yes, I knew zem bos, slightly and yet intimately&mdash;intimately
+and yet but slightly. You <ins title="wish. perhaps">wish, perhaps,</ins> to learn particulars
+about those gentlemen?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p><a class="pagenum" name="Page_370" title="370"> </a>&ldquo;I do.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Go on: interrogate.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Do you perfectly recollect the features of these persons?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I ought.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Can you give me an accurate description of Yelland Mace?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I can bring you face to face with both.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;By Jove! Sir, are you serious?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Mr. Longcluse is in London.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;But you talk of bringing me face to face <ins title="withthem">with them</ins>; how
+soon?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;In five minutes.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Oh, you mean a photograph, or a picture?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;No, in <ins title="the the">the</ins> solid. Here is the key of the catacombs.&rdquo;
+And he took a key that hung from a nail on the wall.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Bah, ha, yah!&rdquo; exploded the baron, in a ferocious sneer,
+rather than a laugh, and shrugging his great shoulders to his
+ears, he shook them in barbarous glee, crying&mdash;&ldquo;What clever
+fellow you are, Monsieur Arden! you see so well srough ze millstone!
+<i lang="de" xml:lang="de">Ich bin klug und weise</i>&mdash;you sing zat song. I am
+intelligent and wise, eh, he! gra-a, ha, ha!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>He seized the candlestick in one hand, and shaking the key
+in the other by the side of his huge forehead, he nodded once
+or twice to David Arden.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Not much life where we are going; but you shall see zem
+bose.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You speak riddles, Baron; but by all means bring me, as
+you say, face to face with them.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Very good, Monsieur; you'll follow me,&rdquo; said the baron.
+And he opened a door that admitted to the gallery, and, with
+the candle and the keys, he led the way, by this corridor, to an
+iron door that had a singular appearance, being sunk two feet
+back in a deep wooden frame, that threw it into shadow. This
+he unlocked, and with an exertion of his weight and strength,
+swung slowly open.</p>
+
+<div class="image-center chapter-end">
+<img src="images/ep24.png" width="281" height="66" alt=""/>
+</div>
+
+<div class="image-center chapter-beginning"><a class="pagenum" name="Page_371" title="371"> </a>
+<img src="images/ch02.png" width="466" height="125" alt=""/>
+</div>
+
+<h2 class="no-break">CHAPTER LXXIX.<br/>
+<small>RESURRECTIONS.</small></h2>
+
+<div><img class="drop-cap" src="images/drop_d.png" width="72" height="72" alt=""/></div>
+
+<p class="drop-cap"><span class="upper-case">David Arden</span> entered this door, and found himself
+under a vaulted roof of brick. These were the
+chambers, for there was at least two, which the baron
+termed his catacombs. Along both walls of the
+narrow apartment were iron doors, in deep recesses, that looked
+like the huge ovens of an ogre, sunk deep in the wall, and the
+baron looked himself not an unworthy proprietor. The baron
+had the General's faculty of remembering faces and names.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Monsieur Yelland Mace? Yes, I will show you him; he is
+among ze dead.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Dead?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Ay, zis right side is <em>dead</em>&mdash;all zese.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Do you mean,&rdquo; says David Arden, &ldquo;<em>literally</em> that Yelland
+Mace is no longer living?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;A, B, C, D, E, F, G,&rdquo; mutters the baron, slowly pointing his
+finger along the right wall.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I beg your pardon, Baron, but I don't think you heard me,&rdquo;
+said David Arden.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;<em>Perfectly</em>, excuse me: H, I, J, K, L, M&mdash;M. I will show
+you <em>now</em>, if you desire it, Yelland Mace; you shall see him
+now, and never behold him more. Do you wish very much?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Intensely&mdash;<em>most</em> intensely!&rdquo; said Uncle David earnestly.</p>
+
+<p>The baron turned full upon him, and leaned his shoulders
+against the iron door of the recess. He had taken from his
+pocket a bunch of heavy keys, which he dangled from his
+clenched fingers, and they made a faint jingle in the silence that
+followed, for a few seconds.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Permit me to ask,&rdquo; said the baron, &ldquo;are your inquiries
+directed to a legal object?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p><a class="pagenum" name="Page_372" title="372"> </a>&ldquo;I have no difficulty in saying yes,&rdquo; answered he; &ldquo;a legal
+object, strictly.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;A legal object, by which you gain considerably?&rdquo; he asked
+slowly.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;By which I gain the satisfaction of seeing justice done upon
+a villain.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;That is fine, Monsieur. Eternal justice! I have thought
+and said that very often: <i lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">Vive la justice eternelle!</i> especially
+when her sword shears off the head of my enemy, and her
+scale is laden with napoleons for my purse.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Monsieur le Baron mistakes, in my case; I have absolutely
+nothing to gain by the procedure I propose; it is strictly
+criminal,&rdquo; said David Arden drily.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Not an estate? not a slice of an estate? Come, come!
+<i lang="de" xml:lang="de">Thorheit!</i> That is foolish talk.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I have told you already, nothing,&rdquo; repeated David Arden.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Then you don't care, in truth, a single napoleon, whether
+you win or lose. We have been wasting our time, Sir. I have
+no time to bestow for nothing; my minutes count by the crown,
+while I remain in Paris. I shall soon depart, and practise no
+more; and my time will become my own&mdash;still my own, by no
+means <em>yours</em>. I am candid, Sir, and I think you cannot misunderstand
+me; I must be paid for my time and opportunities.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I never meant anything else,&rdquo; said Mr. Arden sturdily; &ldquo;I
+shall pay you liberally for any service you render me.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;That, Sir, is equally frank; we understand now the
+principle on which I assist you. You wish to see Yelland Mace,
+so you shall.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>He turned about, and struck the key sharply on the iron
+door.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;There he waits,&rdquo; said the baron, &ldquo;and&mdash;did you ever see
+him?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;No.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Bah! what a wise <ins title="man">man.</ins> Then I may show you whom I
+please, and you know nothing. Have you heard him described?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Accurately.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Well, there is some little sense in it, after all. You shall
+see.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>He unlocked the safe, opened the door, and displayed shelves,
+laden with rudely-made deal boxes, each of a little more than
+a foot square. On these were marks and characters in red,
+some, and some in black, and others in blue.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Hé! you see,&rdquo; said the baron, pointing with his key, &ldquo;my
+mummies are cased in hieroglyphics. Come! <em>Here</em> is the
+number, the date, and the man.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>And lifting them carefully one off the other, he took out a
+<a class="pagenum" name="Page_373" title="373"> </a>
+deal box that had stood in the lowest stratum. The cover was
+loose, except for a string tied about it. He laid it upon the
+floor, and took out a plaster mask, and brushing and blowing
+off the saw-dust, held it up.</p>
+
+<p>David Arden saw a face with large eyes closed, a very high
+and thin nose, a good forehead, a delicately chiselled mouth;
+the upper lip, though well formed after the Greek model,
+projected a little, and gave to the chin the effect of receding
+in proportion. This slight defect showed itself in profile; but
+the face, looked at full front, was on the whole handsome, and
+in some degree even interesting.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You are quite sure of the identity of this?&rdquo; asked Uncle
+David earnestly.</p>
+
+<p>There was a square bit of parchment, with two or three
+short lines, in a character which he did not know, glued to the
+concave reverse of the mask. The baron took it, and holding
+the light near, read, &ldquo;Yelland Mace, suspect for his politics,
+May 2nd, 1844.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; said Mr. Arden, having renewed his examination, &ldquo;it
+very exactly tallies with the description; the nose aquiline,
+but very delicately formed. Is that writing in cypher?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Yes, in cypher.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;And in what language?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;German.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>David Arden looked at it.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You will make nothing of it. In these inscriptions, I
+have employed eight languages&mdash;five European, and three
+Asiatic&mdash;I am, you see, something of a linguist&mdash;and four
+distinct cyphers; so having that skill, I gave the benefit of it
+to my <em>friends</em>; this being secret.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Secret?&mdash;oh!&rdquo; said Uncle David.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Yes, secret; and you will please to say nothing of it to any
+living creature until the twenty-first of October next, when I
+retire. You understand commerce, Mr. Arden. My practice is
+confidential, and I should lose perhaps eighty thousand francs
+in the short space that intervenes, if I were thought to have
+played a patient such a trick. It is but twenty days of reserve,
+and then I go and laugh at them, every one. Piff, puff, paff!
+ha! ha!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Yes, I promise that also,&rdquo; said Uncle David dryly, and to
+himself he thought, &ldquo;What a consummate old scoundrel!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Very good, Sir; we shall want this of Yelland Mace again,
+just now; his face and coffin, ha! ha! can rest there for the
+present.&rdquo; He had replaced the mask in its box, and that
+lay on the floor. The door of the iron press he shut and
+locked. &ldquo;Next, I will show you Mr. Longcluse: those are
+dead.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p><a class="pagenum" name="Page_374" title="374"> </a>He waved his short hand toward the row of iron doors which
+he had just visited.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Please, Sir, walk with me into this room. Ay, so. Here
+are the <em>resurrections</em>. Will you be good enough&mdash;L, Longcluse,
+M, one, two, three, four; <em>three</em>, yes, to hold this candlestick for
+a moment?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>The baron unlocked this door, and, after some rummaging,
+he took forth a box similar to that he had taken out before.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Yes, right, Walter Longcluse. I tell you how you will see it
+best: there is brilliant moonlight, stand there.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Through a circular hole in the wall there streamed a beam of
+moonlight, that fell upon the plaster-wall opposite with the
+distinctness of the circle of a magic-lantern.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You see it&mdash;you know it! Ha! ha! His pretty face!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>He held the mask up in the moonlight, and the lineaments,
+sinister enough, of Mr. Longcluse stood, sharply defined in
+every line and feature, in intense white and black, against the
+vacant shadow behind. There was the flat nose, the projecting
+underjaw, the oblique, sarcastic eyebrow, even the line of the
+slight but long scar, than ran nearly from his eye to his nostril.
+The same, but younger.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;There is no doubt about <em>that</em>. But when was it taken?
+Will you read what is written upon it?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Uncle David had taken out the candle, and he held it beside
+the mask. The baron turned it round, and read, &ldquo;Walter
+Longcluse, 15th October, 1844.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;The same year in which Mace's was taken?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;So it is, 1844.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;But there is a great deal more than you have read, written
+upon the parchment in this one.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;It looks more.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;And <em>is</em> more. Why, count the words, one, two, <ins title="four">four,</ins> six,
+eight. There must be thirty, or upwards.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Well, suppose there are, Sir: I have read, nevertheless, all
+I mean to read for the present. Suppose we bring these three
+masks together. We can talk a little then, and I will perhaps
+tell you more, and disclose to you some secrets of nature and
+art, of which perhaps you suspect nothing. Come, <ins title="come.">come,</ins>
+Monsieur! kindly take the candle.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>The baron shut the iron door with a clang, and locked it,
+and, taking up the box, marched into the next room, and
+placing the boxes one on top of the other, carried them in
+silence out upon the gallery, accompanied by David Arden.</p>
+
+<p>How desolate seemed the silence of the vast house, in all
+which, by this time, perhaps, there did not burn another light!</p>
+
+<p>They now re-entered the large and strangely-littered chamber
+in which he had talked with the baron; they stop among
+<a class="pagenum" name="Page_375" title="375"> </a>
+the chips and sawdust with which his work has strewn the
+<ins title="floor">floor.</ins></p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Set the candle on this table,&rdquo; says he. &ldquo;I'll light another
+for a time. See all the trouble and time you cost me!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>He placed the two boxes on the table.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I am extremely sorry<span style="white-space: nowrap;">&mdash;&mdash;</span>&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Not on my account, you needn't. You'll pay me well for
+it.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;So I will, Baron.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Sit you down on that, Monsieur.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>He placed a clumsy old chair, with a balloon-back, for his
+visitor, and, seating himself upon another, he struck his hand
+on the table, and said, arresting for a moment the restless movement
+of his eyes, and fixing on him a savage stare&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You shall see wonders and hear marvels, if only you are
+willing to pay what they are worth.&rdquo; The baron laughed when
+he had said this.</p>
+
+<div class="image-center chapter-end">
+<img src="images/ep03.png" width="197" height="121" alt=""/>
+</div>
+
+<div class="image-center chapter-beginning"><a class="pagenum" name="Page_376" title="376"> </a>
+<img src="images/ch09.png" width="464" height="77" alt=""/>
+</div>
+
+<h2 class="no-break">CHAPTER LXXX.<br/>
+<small>ANOTHER.</small></h2>
+
+<div><img class="drop-cap" src="images/drop_y.png" width="70" height="72" alt=""/></div>
+
+<p class="drop-cap drop-wide"><span class="upper-case">&ldquo;You</span> shall sit here, Mr. Arden,&rdquo; said the baron,
+placing a chair for him. &ldquo;You shall be comfortable.
+I grow in confidence with you. I feel
+inwardly an intuition when I speak wis a man of
+honour; my demon, as it were, whispers &lsquo;Trust him, honour
+him, make much of him.&rsquo; Will you take a pipe, or a mug of
+beer?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>This abrupt invitation Mr. Arden civilly declined.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Well, I shall have my pipe and beer. See, there is ze
+barrel&mdash;not far to go.&rdquo; He raised the candle, and David Arden
+saw for the first time the outline of a veritable beer-barrel in the
+corner, on tressels, such as might have regaled a party of boors
+in the clear shadow of a Teniers.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;There is the comely beer-cask, not often seen in Paris, in
+the corner of our boudoir, resting against the only remaining
+rags of the sky-blue and gold silk&mdash;it is rotten now&mdash;with which
+the room was hung, and a gilded cornice&mdash;it is black now&mdash;over
+its head; and now, instead of beautiful women and graceful
+youths, in gold lace and cut velvets and perfumed powder,
+there are but one rheumatic and crooked old woman, and one old
+Prussian doctor, in his shirt-sleeves, ha! ha! <i lang="la" xml:lang="la">mutat terra
+vices!</i> Come, we shall look at these again, and you shall hear
+more.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>He placed the two masks upon the chimney-piece, leaning
+against the wall.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;And we will illuminate them,&rdquo; says he; and he takes, one after
+the other, half a dozen pieces of wax candle, and dripping the
+melting wax on the chimney-piece, he sticks each candle in turn
+in a little pool of its own wax.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I spare nothing, you see, to make all plain. Those two faces
+present a marked contrast. Do you, Mr. Arden, know anything,
+ever so little, of the fate of Yelland Mace?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p><a class="pagenum" name="Page_377" title="377"> </a>&ldquo;Nothing. Is he living?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Suppose he is dead, what then?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;In that case, of course, I take my leave of the inquiry, and
+of you, asking you simply one question, whether there was
+any correspondence between Yelland Mace and Walter Longcluse?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;A very intimate correspondence,&rdquo; said the baron.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Of what nature?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Ha! They have been combined in business, in pleasures,
+in crimes,&rdquo; said the baron. &ldquo;Look at them. Can you believe
+it? So dissimilar! They are opposites in form and character,
+as if fashioned in expression and in feature each to contradict
+the other; yet so united!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;And in crime, you say?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Ay, in crime&mdash;in all things.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Is Yelland Mace still living?&rdquo; urged David Arden.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Those features, in life, you will never behold, Sir.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;He is dead. You said that you took that mask from among
+the dead. <em>Is</em> he dead?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;No, Sir; not actually dead, but under a strange condition.
+Bah; Don't you see I have a secret? Do you prize very
+highly learning where he is?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Very highly, provided he may be secured and brought to
+trial; and you, Baron, must arrange to give your testimony to
+prove his identity.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Yes; that would be indispensible,&rdquo; said the baron, whose
+eyes were sweeping the room from corner to corner, fiercely
+and swiftly. &ldquo;Without me you can never lift the veil; without
+me you can never unearth your stiff and pale Yelland Mace, nor
+without me identify and hang him.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I rely upon your aid, Baron,&rdquo; said Mr. Arden, who was becoming
+agitated. &ldquo;Your trouble shall be recompensed; you
+may depend upon my honour.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I am running a certain risk. I am not a fool, though, like
+little Lebas. I am not to be made away with like a kitten; and
+once I move in this matter, I burn my ships behind me, and
+return to my splendid practice, under no circumstances, ever
+again.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>The baron's pallid face looked more bloodless, his accent was
+fiercer, and his countenance more ruffianly as he uttered all
+this.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I understood, Baron, that you had quite made up your mind
+to retire within a very few weeks,&rdquo; said David Arden.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Does any man who has lived as long as you or I quite trust
+his own resolution? No one likes to be nailed to a plan of action
+an hour before he need be. I find my practice more lucrative
+every day. I may be tempted to postpone my retirement, and
+<a class="pagenum" name="Page_378" title="378"> </a>
+for a while longer to continue to gather the golden harvest that
+ripens round me. But once I take this step, all is up with <ins title="that,">that.</ins>
+You see&mdash;you understand. Bah! you are no fool; it is <ins title="plain.">plain,</ins>
+all I sacrifice.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Of course, Baron, you shall take no trouble, and make no
+sacrifice, without ample compensation. But are you aware of
+the nature of the crime committed by that man?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I never trouble my head about details; it is enough, the
+man is a political refugee, and his object concealment.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;But he was no political refugee; he had nothing to do with
+politics&mdash;he was simply a murderer and a robber.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;What a little rogue! Will you excuse my smoking a pipe
+and drinking a little beer? Now, he never hinted that, although
+I knew him very intimately, for he was my patient for some
+months; never hinted it, he was so sly.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;And Mr. Longcluse, was <em>he</em> your patient also?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Ha! to be sure he was. You won't drink some beer? No;
+well, in a moment.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>He drew a little jugful from the cask, and placed it, and a
+pewter goblet, on the table, and then filled, lighted, and smoked
+his pipe as he proceeded.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I will tell you something concerning those gentlemen, Mr.
+Longcluse and Mr. Mace, which may amuse you. Listen.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<div class="image-center chapter-end">
+<img src="images/ep27.png" width="282" height="67" alt=""/>
+</div>
+
+<div class="image-center chapter-beginning"><a class="pagenum" name="Page_379" title="379"> </a>
+<img src="images/ch02.png" width="466" height="125" alt=""/>
+</div>
+
+<h2 class="no-break">CHAPTER LXXXI.<br/>
+<small>BROKEN.</small></h2>
+
+<div><img class="drop-cap" src="images/drop_m.png" width="72" height="73" alt=""/></div>
+
+<p class="drop-cap drop-wide"><span class="upper-case">&ldquo;My</span> hands were very full,&rdquo; said the baron, displaying
+his stumpy fingers. &ldquo;I received patients in this
+house; I had what you call many irons in ze
+fire. I was making napoleons then, I don't mind
+telling you, as fast as a man could run bullets. My minutes
+counted by the crown. It was in the month of May, 1844,
+late at night, a man called here, wanting to consult me. He
+called himself Herr von Konigsmark. I went down and saw
+him in my audience room. He knew I was to be depended upon.
+Such people tell one another who may be trusted. He told me
+he was an Austrian proscribed: very good. He proposed to
+place himself in my hands: very well. I looked him in the face&mdash;you
+have <em>there</em> exactly what I saw.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>He extended his hand toward the mask of Yelland Mace.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;&lsquo;You are an Austrian,&rsquo; I said, &lsquo;a native subject of the
+empire?&rsquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;&lsquo;Yes.&rsquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;&lsquo;Italian?&rsquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;&lsquo;No.&rsquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;&lsquo;Hungarian?&rsquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;&lsquo;No.&rsquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;&lsquo;Well, you are not <em>German</em>&mdash;ha, ha!&mdash;I can swear to that.&rsquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;He was speaking to me in German.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;&lsquo;Your accent is foreign. Come, confidence. You must be
+no impostor. I must make no mistake, and blunder into a
+national type of features, all wrong; if I make your mask, it
+must do us credit. I know many gentlemen's secrets, and as
+many ladies' secrets. A man of honour! What are you
+afraid of?&rsquo;&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p><a class="pagenum" name="Page_380" title="380"> </a>&ldquo;You were not a statuary?&rdquo; said Uncle David, astonished at
+his versatility.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Oh, yes! A statuary, but only in grotesque, you understand.
+I will show you some of my work by-and-by.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;And I shall perhaps understand.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You <em>shall</em>, <em>perfectly</em>. With some reluctance, then, he
+admitted that what I positively asserted was true; for I told
+him I knew from his accent he was an Englishman. Then, with
+some little pressure, I invited him to tell his name. He did&mdash;it
+was Yelland Mace. <em>That</em> is Yelland Mace.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>He had now finished his pipe: he went over to the chimney-piece,
+and having knocked out the ashes, and with his pipe
+pointing to the tip of the long thin plaster nose, he said, &ldquo;Look
+well at him. Look till you know all his features by rote. Look
+till you fix them for the rest of your days well in memory,
+and then say what in the devil's name you could make of
+them. Look at that high nose, as thin as a fish-knife. Look
+at the line of the mouth and chin; see the mild gentlemanlike
+contour. If you find a fellow with a flat nose, and a pair of
+upper tusks sticking out an inch, and a squint that turns out
+one eye like the white of an egg, you pull out the tusks, you raise
+the skin of the nose, slice a bit out of the cheek, and make a
+false bridge, as high as you please; heal the cheek with a stitch
+or two, and operate with the lancet for the squint, and your bust
+is complete. Bravo! you understand?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I confess, Baron, I do not.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You shall, however. Here is the case&mdash;a political refugee,
+like Monsieur Yelland Mace<span style="white-space: nowrap;">&mdash;&mdash;</span>&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;But he was no such thing.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Well, a criminal&mdash;any man in such a situation is, for me, a
+political refugee zat, for reasons, desires to revisit his country,
+and yet must be so thoroughly disguised zat by no surprise, and
+by no process, can he be satisfactorily recognised; he comes to
+me, tells me his case, and says, &lsquo;I desire, Baron, to become
+your patient,&rsquo; and so he places himself in my hands, and so&mdash;ha,
+ha! You begin to perceive?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Yes, I do! I think I understand you clearly. But, Lord
+bless me! what a nefarious trade!&rdquo; exclaimed Uncle David.</p>
+
+<p>The baron was not offended; he laughed.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Nevertheless,&rdquo; said he, &ldquo;There's no harm in that. Not
+that I care much about the question of right or wrong in the
+matter; but there's none. Bah! who's the worse of his going
+back? or, if he did not, who's the better?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Uncle David did not care to discuss this point in ethics, but
+simply said,&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;And Mr. Longcluse was also a patient of yours?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Yes, certainly,&rdquo; said the baron.</p>
+
+<p><a class="pagenum" name="Page_381" title="381"> </a>&ldquo;We Londoners know nothing of his history,&rdquo; said Mr.
+Arden.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;A political refugee, like Mr. Mace,&rdquo; said the baron. &ldquo;Now,
+look at Herr Yelland Mace. It was a severe operation, but a
+beautiful one! I opened the skin with a single straight cut from
+the lachrymal gland to the nostril, and one underneath meeting
+it, you see&rdquo; (he was tracing the line of the scalpel with the stem
+of his pipe), &ldquo;along the base of the nose from the point. Then
+I drew back the skin over the bridge, and then I operated on
+the bone and cartilage, cutting them and the muscle at the
+extremity down to a level with the line of the face, and drew the
+flap of skin back, cutting it to meet the line of the skin of the
+cheek; <em>there</em>, you see, so much for the nose. Now see the
+curved eyebrow. Instead of that very well marked arch, I
+resolved it should slant from the radix of the nose in a straight
+line obliquely upward; to effect which I removed at the upper
+edge of each eyebrow, at the corner next the temple, a portion of
+the skin and muscle, which, being reunited and healed, produced
+the requisite contraction, and thus drew that end of each brow
+upward. And now, having disposed of the nose and brows, I
+come to the mouth. Look at the profile of this mask.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>He was holding that of Yelland Mace toward Mr. Arden, and
+with the bowl of the pipe in his right hand, pointed out the lines
+and features on which he descanted, with the amber point of the
+stem.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Now, if you observe, the chin in this face, by reason of the
+marked prominence of the nose, has the effect of receding, but
+it does not. If you continue the perpendicular line of ze forehead,
+ze chin, you see, meets it. The upper lip, though short
+and well-formed, projects a good deal. Ze under lip rather retires,
+and this adds to the receding effect of the chin, you see.
+My <i lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">coup-d'&oelig;il</i> assured me that it was practicable to give to this
+feature the character of a projecting under-jaw. The complete
+depression of the nose more than half accomplished it. The
+rest is done by cutting away two upper and four under-teeth,
+and substituting false ones at the desired angle. By that application
+of dentistry I obtained zis new line.&rdquo; (He indicated the
+altered outline of the features, as before, with his pipe). &ldquo;It
+was a very pretty operation. The effect you could hardly believe.
+He was two months recovering, confined to his bed, ha!
+ha! We can't have an immovable mask of living flesh, blood,
+and bone for nothing. He was threatened with erysipelas, and
+there was a rather critical inflammation of the left eye. When
+he could sit up, and bear the light, and looked in the glass, instead
+of thanking me, he screamed like a girl, and cried and
+cursed for an hour, ha, ha, ha! He was glad of it afterward: it
+was so complete. Look at it&rdquo; (he held up the mask of Yelland
+<a class="pagenum" name="Page_382" title="382"> </a>
+Mace): &ldquo;a face, on the whole, good-looking, but a little of a
+parrot-face, you know. I took him into my hands with that
+face, and&rdquo; (taking up the mask of Mr. Longcluse, and turning it
+with a slow oscillation so as to present it in every aspect), he
+added, &ldquo;these are the features of Yelland Mace as I sent him
+into the world with the name of Herr Longcluse!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You mean to say that Yelland Mace and Walter Longcluse
+are the same person?&rdquo; cried David Arden, starting to his feet.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I swear that here is Yelland Mace <em>before</em>, and here <em>after</em> the
+operation, call him what you please. When I was in London,
+two months ago, I saw Monsieur Longcluse. <em>He</em> is Yelland
+Mace; and these two masks are both masks of the same
+Yelland Mace.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Then the evidence is complete,&rdquo; said David Arden, with
+awe in his face, as he stood for a moment gazing on the masks
+which the Baron Vanboeren held up side by side before him.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Ay, the masks and the witness to explain them,&rdquo; said the
+baron, sturdily.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;It is a perfect identification,&rdquo; murmured Mr. Arden, with
+his eyes still riveted on the plaster faces. &ldquo;Good God! how
+wonderful that proof, so complete in all its parts, should
+remain!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Well, I don't love Longcluse, since so he is named; he disobliged
+me when I was in London,&rdquo; said the baron. &ldquo;Let him
+hang, since so you ordain it. I'm ready to go to London, give
+my evidence, and produce these plaster casts. But my time
+and trouble must be considered.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Certainly.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; said the baron; &ldquo;and to avoid tedious arithmetic, and
+for the sake of convenience, I will agree to visit London, at what
+time you appoint, to bring with me these two masks, and to
+give my evidence against Yelland Mace, otherwise Walter Longcluse,
+my stay in London not to exceed a fortnight, for ten
+thousand pounds sterling.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I don't think, Baron, you can be serious,&rdquo; said Mr. Arden,
+as soon as he had recovered breath.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Donner-wetter! I will show you that I am!&rdquo; bawled the
+baron. &ldquo;Now or never, Sir. Do as you please. I sha'n't
+abate a franc. Do you like my offer?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>On the event of this bargain are depending issues of which
+David Arden knows nothing; the dangers, the agonies, the
+salvation of those who are nearest to him on earth. The villain
+Longcluse, and the whole fabric of his machinations, may be
+dashed in pieces by a word.</p>
+
+<p>How, then, did David Arden, who hated a swindle, answer
+the old extortioner, who asked him, &ldquo;Do you like my offer?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Certainly not, Sir,&rdquo; said David Arden, sternly.</p>
+
+<p><a class="pagenum" name="Page_383" title="383"> </a>&ldquo;Then <em>was</em> scheert's mich! What do I care! No more, no
+more about it!&rdquo; yelled the baron in a fury, and dashed the two
+masks to pieces on the hearth-stone at his feet, and stamped the
+fragments into dust with his clumsy shoes.</p>
+
+<p>With a cry, old Uncle David rushed forward to arrest the
+demolition, but too late. The baron, who was liable to such
+accesses of rage, was grinding his teeth, and rolling his eyes,
+and stamping in fury.</p>
+
+<p>The masks, those priceless records, were gone, past all hope
+of restoration. Uncle David felt for a moment so transported
+with anger, that I think he was on the point of striking him.
+How it would have fared with him, if he had, I can't <ins title="tell.&rdquo;">tell.</ins></p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Now!&rdquo; howled the baron, &ldquo;ten times ten thousand pounds
+would not place you where you were, Sir. You fancied, perhaps,
+I would stand haggling with you all night, and yield at last to
+your obstinacy. What is my answer? The floor strewn with
+the fragments of your calculation. Where will you turn&mdash;what
+will you do now?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Suppose I do this,&rdquo; said Uncle David fiercely&mdash;&ldquo;report to
+the police what I have seen&mdash;your masks and all the rest, and
+accomplish, besides, all I require, by my own evidence as to
+what I myself saw?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;And I will confront you, as a witness,&rdquo; said the baron, with
+a cold sneer, &ldquo;and deny it all&mdash;swear it is a dream, and aid your
+poor relatives in proving you unfit to manage your own money
+matters.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Uncle David paused for a moment. The baron had no idea
+how near he was, at that moment, to a trial of strength with his
+English visitor. Uncle David thinks better of it, and he contents
+himself with saying, &ldquo;I shall have advice, and you shall
+<em>most certainly</em> hear from me again.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Forth from the room strides David Arden in high wrath.
+Fearing to lose his way, he bawls over the banister, and through
+the corridors, &ldquo;Is any one there?&rdquo; and after a time the old
+woman, who is awaiting him in the hall, replies, and he is once
+more in the open street.</p>
+
+<div class="image-center chapter-beginning"><a class="pagenum" name="Page_384" title="384"> </a>
+<img src="images/ch02.png" width="466" height="125" alt=""/>
+</div>
+
+<h2 class="no-break">CHAPTER LXXXII.<br/>
+<small>DOPPELGANGER.</small></h2>
+
+<div><img class="drop-cap" src="images/drop_i.png" width="73" height="73" alt=""/></div>
+
+<p class="drop-cap drop-narrow"><span class="upper-case">It</span> was late, he did not know or care how late. He was
+by no means familiar with this quarter of the city.
+He was agitated and angry, and did not wish to return
+to his hotel till he had a little walked off his
+excitement. Slowly he sauntered along, from street to street.
+These were old-fashioned, such as were in vogue in the days of
+the Regency. Tall houses, with gables facing the street; few
+of them showing any light from their windows, and their dark
+outlines discernible on high against the midnight sky. Now he
+heard the voices of people near, emerging from a low theatre in
+a street at the right. A number of men come along the trottoir,
+toward Uncle David. They were going to a gaming-house and
+restaurant at the end of the street, which he had nearly reached.
+This troop of idlers he accompanies. They turn into an open
+door, and enter a passage not very brilliantly lighted. At the
+left was the open door of a restaurant. The greater number of
+those who enter follow the passage, however, which leads to the
+roulette-room.</p>
+
+<p>As Uncle David, with a caprice of curiosity, follows slowly
+in the wake of this accession to the company, a figure passes
+and goes before him into the room.</p>
+
+<p>With a strange thrill he takes or mistakes this figure for Mr.
+Longcluse. He pauses, and sees the tall figure enter the
+roulette-room. He follows it as soon as he recollects himself
+a little, and goes into the room. The players are, as usual,
+engrossed by the game. But at the far side beyond these busy
+people, he sees this person, whom he recognises by a light great-coat,
+stooping with his lips pretty near the ear of a man who
+was sitting at the table. He raises himself in a moment more,
+<a class="pagenum" name="Page_385" title="385"> </a>
+and stands before Uncle David, and at the first glance he is
+quite certain that Mr. Longcluse is before him. The tall man
+stands with folded arms, and looks carelessly round the room,
+and at Uncle David among the rest.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Here,&rdquo; he thought, &ldquo;is the man; and the evidence, clear
+and conclusive, and so near this very spot, now scattered in dust
+and fragments, and the witness who might have clenched the
+case impracticable!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>This tall man, however, he begins to perceive, has points, and
+strong ones, of dissimilarity, notwithstanding his general resemblance
+to Mr. Longcluse. His beard and hair are red; his
+shoulders are broader, and very round; much clumsier and
+more powerful he looks; and there is an air of vulgarity and
+swagger and boisterous good spirits about him, certainly in
+marked contrast with Mr. Longcluse's very quiet demeanour.</p>
+
+<p>Uncle David now finds himself in that uncomfortable state
+of oscillation between two opposite convictions which, in a
+matter of supreme importance, amounts very nearly to torture.</p>
+
+<p>This man does not appear at all put out by Mr. Arden's
+observant presence, nor even conscious of it. A place becomes
+vacant at the table, and he takes it, and stakes some money,
+and goes on, and wins and loses, and at last yawns and turns
+away, and walks slowly round to the door near which David
+Arden is standing. Is not this the very man whom he saw for
+a moment on board the steamer, as he crossed? As he passes
+a jet of gas, the light falls upon his face at an angle that brings
+out lines that seem familiar to the Englishman, and for the
+moment determines his doubts. David Arden, with his eyes
+fixed upon him, says, as he was about to pass him,&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;How d'ye do, Mr. Longcluse?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>The gentleman stops, smiles, and shrugs.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Pardon, Monsieur,&rdquo; he says in French, &ldquo;I do not speak
+English or German.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>The quality of the voice that spoke these words was, he
+thought, different from Mr. Longcluse's&mdash;less tone, less depth,
+and more nasal.</p>
+
+<p>The gentleman pauses and smiles with his head inclined,
+evidently expecting to be addressed in French.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I believe I have made a mistake, Sir,&rdquo; hesitates Mr. Arden.</p>
+
+<p>The gentleman inclines his head lower, smiles, and waits
+patiently for a second or two. Mr. Arden, a little embarrassed,
+says,&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I thought, Monsieur, I had met you before in England.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I have never been in England, Monsieur,&rdquo; says the patient
+and polite Frenchman, in his own language. &ldquo;I cannot have
+had the honour, therefore, of meeting Monsieur <em>there</em>.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>He pauses politely.</p>
+
+<p><a class="pagenum" name="Page_386" title="386"> </a>&ldquo;Then I have only to make an apology. I beg your&mdash;I beg&mdash;but
+surely&mdash;I think&mdash;by Jove!&rdquo; he breaks into English, &ldquo;I
+can't be mistaken&mdash;you <em>are</em> Mr. Longcluse.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>The tall gentleman looks so unaffectedly puzzled, and so
+politely good-natured, as he resumes, in the tones which seem
+perfectly natural, and yet one note in which David Arden fails
+to recognise, and says,&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Monsieur must not trouble himself of having made a
+mistake: my name is St. Ange.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I believe I <em>have</em> made a mistake, Monsieur&mdash;pray excuse
+me.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>The gentleman bows very ceremoniously, and Monsieur St.
+Ange walks slowly out, and takes a glass of curaçoa in the
+outer room. As he is paying the <i lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">garçon</i>, Mr. Arden again
+appears, once more in a state of uncertainty, and again leaning
+to the belief that this person is indeed the Mr. Longcluse who
+at present entirely possesses his imagination.</p>
+
+<p>The tall stranger with the round shoulders in truth resembled
+the person who, in a midnight interview on Hampstead Heath,
+had discussed some momentous questions with Paul Davies, as
+we remember; but that person spoke in the peculiar accent of
+the northern border. <em>His</em> beard, too, was exorbitant in length,
+and flickered wide and red, in the wind. This beard, on the
+contrary, was short and trim, and hardly so red, I think, as that
+moss-trooper's. On the whole, the likeness in both cases was
+somewhat rude and general. Still the resemblance to Longcluse
+again struck Mr. Arden so powerfully, that he actually followed
+him into the street and overtook him only a dozen steps away
+from the door, on the now silent pavement.</p>
+
+<p>Hearing his hurried step behind him, the object of his pursuit
+turns about and confronts him for the first time with an
+offended and haughty look.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Monsieur!&rdquo; says he a little grimly, drawing himself up as
+he comes to a sudden halt.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;The impression has forced itself upon me again that you
+<em>are</em> no other than Mr. Walter Longcluse,&rdquo; says Uncle David.</p>
+
+<p>The tall gentleman recovered his good-humour, and smiled
+as before, with a shrug.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I have not the honour of that gentleman's acquaintance,
+Monsieur, and cannot tell, therefore, whether he in the least
+resembles me. But as this kind of thing is unusual, and
+grows wearisome, and may end in putting me out of temper&mdash;which
+is not easy, although quite possible&mdash;and as my
+assurance that I am really myself seems insufficient to
+convince Monsieur, I shall be happy to offer other evidence
+of the most unexceptionable kind. My house is only
+two streets distant. There my wife and daughter await me,
+<a class="pagenum" name="Page_387" title="387"> </a>
+and our curé partakes of our little supper at twelve. I am a
+little late,&rdquo; says he, listening, for the clocks are tolling twelve;
+&ldquo;however, it is a little more than two hundred metres, if you
+will accept my invitation, and I shall be very happy to introduce
+you to my wife, to my daughter Clotilde, and to our good curé,
+who is a most agreeable man. Pray come, share our little
+supper, see what sort of people we are, and in this way&mdash;more
+agreeable, I hope, than any other, and certainly less fallacious&mdash;you
+can ascertain whether I am Monsieur St. Ange, or that
+other gentleman with whom you are so obliging as to confound
+me. Pray come; it is not much&mdash;a fricasée, a few cutlets, an
+omelette, and a glass of wine. Madame St. Ange will be
+charmed to make your acquaintance, my daughter will sing us
+a song, and you will say that Monsieur le Curé is really a most
+entertaining companion.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>There was something so simple and thoroughly good-natured
+in this invitation, under all the circumstances, that Mr. Arden
+felt a little ashamed of his persistent annoyance of so hospitable
+a fellow, and for the moment he was convinced that he must
+have been in error.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Sir,&rdquo; says David Arden, &ldquo;I am now convinced that I must
+have been mistaken; but I cannot deny myself the honour of
+being presented to Madame St. Ange, and I assure you I am
+quite ashamed of the annoyance I must have caused you, and
+I offer a thousand apologies.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Not one, pray,&rdquo; replies the Frenchman, with great good-humour
+and gaiety. &ldquo;I felicitate myself on a mistake which
+promises to result so happily.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>So side by side, at a leisurely pace, they pursued their way
+through these silent streets, and unaccountably the conviction
+again gradually stole over Uncle David that he was actually
+walking by the side of Mr. Longcluse.</p>
+
+<div class="image-center chapter-end">
+<img src="images/ep28.png" width="282" height="67" alt=""/>
+</div>
+
+<div class="image-center chapter-beginning"><a class="pagenum" name="Page_388" title="388"> </a>
+<img src="images/ch26.png" width="444" height="86" alt=""/>
+</div>
+
+<h2 class="no-break">CHAPTER LXXXIII.<br/>
+<small>A SHORT PARTING.</small></h2>
+
+<div><img class="drop-cap" src="images/drop_t.png" width="72" height="72" alt=""/></div>
+
+<p class="drop-cap"><span class="upper-case">The</span> fluctuations of Mr. Arden's conviction continued.
+His new acquaintance chatted gaily. They passed a
+transverse street, and he saw him glance quickly
+right and left, with a shrewd eye that did not quite
+accord with his careless demeanour.</p>
+
+<p>Here for a moment the moon fell full upon them, and the
+effect of this new light was, once more, to impair Mr. Arden's
+confidence in his last conclusions about this person. Again he
+was at sea as to his identity.</p>
+
+<p>There were the gabble and vociferation of two women
+quarrelling in the street to the left, and three tipsy fellows,
+marching home, were singing a trio some way up the street to
+the right.</p>
+
+<p>They had encountered but one figure&mdash;a seedy scrivener, slipshod,
+shuffling his way to his garret, with a baize bag of law-papers
+to copy in his left hand, and a sheaf of quills in his
+right, and a pale, careworn face turned up towards the sky.
+The streets were growing more silent and deserted as they
+proceeded.</p>
+
+<p>He was sauntering onward by the side of this urbane and
+garrulous stranger, when, like a whisper, the thought came,
+&ldquo;Take care!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>David Arden stopped short.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Eh, bien?&rdquo; said his polite companion, stopping simultaneously,
+and staring in his face a little grimly.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;On reflection, Monsieur, it is so late, that I fear I should
+hardly reach my hotel in time if I were to accept your agreeable
+invitation, and letters probably await me, which I should, at
+least, <em>read</em> to-night.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Surely Monsieur will not disappoint me&mdash;surely Monsieur is
+<a class="pagenum" name="Page_389" title="389"> </a>
+not going to treat me so oddly?&rdquo; expostulated Monsieur St.
+Ange.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Good-night, Sir. Farewell!&rdquo; said David Arden, raising his
+hat as he turned to go.</p>
+
+<p>There intervened not two yards between them, and the
+polite Monsieur St. Ange makes a stride after him, and extends
+his hand&mdash;whether there is a weapon in it, I know not; but he
+exclaims fiercely,&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Ha! robber! my purse!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Fortunately, perhaps, at that moment, from a lane only a few
+yards away, emerge two gendarmes, and Monsieur St. Ange
+exclaims, &ldquo;Ah, Monsieur, mille pardons! Here it is! All safe,
+Monsieur. Pray excuse my mistake as frankly as I have
+excused yours. Adieu!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Monsieur St. Ange raises his hat, shrugs, smiles, and withdrew.</p>
+
+<p>Uncle David thought, on the whole, he was well rid of his
+ambiguous acquaintance, and strode along beside the gendarmes,
+who civilly directed him upon his way, which he had
+lost.</p>
+
+<p>So, then, upon Mr. Longcluse's fortunes the sun shone; his
+star, it would seem, was in the ascendant. If the evil genius
+who ruled his destiny was contending, in a chess game, with the
+good angel of Alice Arden, her game seemed pretty well lost,
+and the last move near.</p>
+
+<p>When David Arden reached his hotel a note awaited him, in
+the hand of the Baron Vanboeren. He read it under the gas
+in the hall. It said:&mdash;</p>
+
+<blockquote>
+<p class="larger-indent">&ldquo;We must, in this world, forgive and reconsider many things.
+I therefore pardon you, you me. So soon as you have slept upon our
+conversation, you will accept an offer which I cannot modify. I always
+proportion the burden to the back. The rich pay me handsomely; for
+the poor I have prescribed and operated, sometimes, for nothing! You
+have the good fortune, like myself, to be childless, wifeless, and rich.
+When I take a fancy to a thing, nothing stops me; you, no doubt, in
+like manner. The trouble is something to me; the danger, which you
+count nothing, to me is <em>much</em>. The compensation I name, estimated
+without the circumstances, is large; compared with my wealth, trifling;
+compared with your wealth, nothing; as the condition of a transaction
+between you and me, therefore, not worth mentioning. The accident
+of last night I can repair. The original matrix of each mask remains
+safe in my hands: from this I can multiply casts <i lang="la" xml:lang="la">ad libitum</i>. Both
+these matrices I will hammer into powder at twelve o'clock to-morrow
+night, unless my liberal offer shall have been accepted before that hour.
+I write to a man of honour. We understand each other.</p>
+
+<p class="right small-caps">&ldquo;Emmanuel Vanboeren.&rdquo;</p>
+</blockquote>
+
+<p>The ruin, then, was not irretrievable; and there was time to
+<a class="pagenum" name="Page_390" title="390"> </a>
+take advice, and think it over. In the baron's brutal letter
+there was a coarse logic, not without its weight.</p>
+
+<p>In better spirits David Arden betook himself to bed. It
+vexed him to think of submitting to the avarice of that wicked
+old extortioner; but to that submission, reluctant as he is, it
+seems probable he will come.</p>
+
+<p>And now his thoughts turn upon the hospitable Monsieur St.
+Ange, and he begins, I must admit not altogether without
+reason, to reflect what a fool he has been. He wonders whether
+that hospitable and polite gentleman had intended to murder
+him, at the moment when the gendarmes so luckily appeared.
+And in the midst of his speculations, overpowered by fatigue,
+he fell asleep, and ate his breakfast next morning very
+happily.</p>
+
+<p>Uncle David had none of that small diplomatic genius that
+helps to make a good attorney. That sort of knowledge of
+human nature would have prompted a careless reception of the
+baron's note, and an entire absence of that promptitude which
+seems to imply an anxiety to seize an offer.</p>
+
+<p>Accordingly, it was at about eleven o'clock in the morning
+that he presented himself at the house of the Baron Vanboeren.</p>
+
+<p>He was not destined to conclude a reconciliation with that
+German noble, nor to listen to his abrupt loquacity, nor ever
+more to discuss or negotiate anything whatsoever with him, for
+the Baron Vanboeren had been found that morning close to his
+hall door on the floor, shot with no less than three bullets
+through his body, and his pipe in both hands clenched to his
+blood-soaked breast like a crucifix. The baron is not actually
+dead. He has been hours insensible. He cannot live; and
+the doctor says that neither speech nor recollection can return
+before he dies.</p>
+
+<p>By whose hands, for what cause, in what manner the world
+had lost that excellent man, no one could say. A great variety
+of theories prevail on the subject. He had sent the old servant
+for Pierre la Roche, whom he employed as a messenger, and he
+had given him at about a quarter to eleven a note addressed to
+David Arden, Esquire, which was no doubt that which Mr.
+Arden had received.</p>
+
+<p>Had Heaven decreed that this investigation should come to
+naught? This blow seemed irremediable.</p>
+
+<p>David Arden, however, had, as I mentioned, official friends,
+and it struck him that he might through them obtain access to
+the rooms in which his interviews with the baron had taken
+place; and that an ingenious and patient artist in plaster might
+be found who would search out the matrices, or, at worst, piece
+the fragments of the mask together, and so, in part, perhaps,
+<a class="pagenum" name="Page_391" title="391"> </a>
+restore the demolished evidence. It turned out, however, that
+the destruction of these relics was too complete for any such
+experiments; and all that now remained was, upon the baron's
+letter of the evening before, to move in official quarters for a
+search for those &ldquo;matrices&rdquo; from which it was alleged the
+masks were taken.</p>
+
+<p>This subject so engrossed his mind, that it was not until after
+his late dinner that he began once more to think of Monsieur
+St. Ange, and his resemblance to Mr. Longcluse; and a new
+suspicion began to envelope those gentlemen in his imagination.
+A thought struck him, and up got Uncle David, leaving his wine
+unfinished, and a few minutes more saw him in the telegraph
+office, writing the following message:&mdash;</p>
+
+<blockquote>
+<p>&ldquo;From Monsieur David Arden, etc., to Monsieur Blount,
+5 Manchester Buildings, Westminster, London.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Pray telegraph immediately to say whether Mr. Longcluse is at his
+house, Bolton Street, Piccadilly.&rdquo;</p>
+</blockquote>
+
+<p>No answer reached him that night; but in the morning he
+found a telegram dated 11.30 of the previous night, which
+said&mdash;</p>
+
+<blockquote>
+<p>&ldquo;Mr. Longcluse is ill at his house at Richmond&mdash;better to-day.&rdquo;</p>
+</blockquote>
+
+<p>To this promptly he replied&mdash;</p>
+
+<blockquote>
+<p>&ldquo;See him, if possible, immediately at Richmond, and say how he
+looks. The surrender of the lease in Crown Alley will be an excuse.
+See him if there. Ascertain with certainty where. Telegraph
+immediately.&rdquo;</p>
+</blockquote>
+
+<p>No answer had reached Uncle David at three o'clock <span class="small-caps all-upper">P.M.</span>;
+he had despatched his message at nine. He was impatient, and
+walked to the telegraph office to make inquiries, and to grumble.
+He sent another message in querulous and peremptory laconics.
+But no answer came till near twelve o'clock, when the following
+was delivered to him:&mdash;</p>
+
+<blockquote>
+<p>&ldquo;Yours came while out. Received at 6 <span class="small-caps all-upper">P.M.</span> Saw Longcluse at
+Richmond. Looks seedy. Says he is all right now.&rdquo;</p>
+</blockquote>
+
+<p>He read this twice or thrice, and lowered the hand whose
+fingers held it by the corner, and looked up, taking a turn or
+two about the room; and he thought what a precious fool he
+must have appeared to Monsieur St. Ange, and then again, with
+<a class="pagenum" name="Page_392" title="392"> </a>
+another view of that gentleman's character, what an escape he
+had possibly had.</p>
+
+<p>So there was no distraction any longer; and he directed his
+mind now exclusively upon the distinct object of securing
+possession of the moulds from which the masks were taken;
+and for many reasons it is not likely that very much will come
+of his search.</p>
+
+<div class="image-center chapter-end">
+<img src="images/ep04.png" width="232" height="128" alt=""/>
+</div>
+
+<div class="image-center chapter-beginning"><a class="pagenum" name="Page_393" title="393"> </a>
+<img src="images/ch01.png" width="441" height="84" alt=""/>
+</div>
+
+<h2 class="no-break"><ins title="CHATPER">CHAPTER</ins> LXXXIV.<br/>
+<small>AT MORTLAKE.</small></h2>
+
+<div><img class="drop-cap" src="images/drop_e.png" width="73" height="74" alt=""/></div>
+
+<p class="drop-cap"><span class="upper-case">Events</span> do not stand still at Mortlake. It is now
+about four o'clock on a fine autumnal afternoon.
+Since we last saw her, Alice Arden has not once
+sought to pass the hall-door. It would not have been
+possible to do so. No one passed that barrier without a
+scrutiny, and the aid of the key of the man who kept guard at
+the door, as closely as ever did the office at the hatch of the
+debtor's prison. The suite of five rooms up-stairs, to which
+Alice is now strictly confined, is not only comfortable, but
+luxurious. It had been fitted up for his own use by Sir
+Reginald years before he exchanged it for those rooms down-stairs
+which, as he grew older, he preferred.</p>
+
+<p>Levi every day visited the house, and took a report of all that
+was said and planned up-stairs, in a <i lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">tête-à-tête</i> with Ph&oelig;be
+Chiffinch, in the great parlour among the portraits. The girl
+was true to her young and helpless mistress, and was in her
+confidence, outwitting the rascally Jew, who every time, by
+Longcluse's order, bribed her handsomely for the information
+that was misleading him.</p>
+
+<p>From Ph&oelig;be the young lady concealed no pang of her
+agony. Well was it for her that in their craft they had exchanged
+the comparatively useless Miss Diaper for this poor
+girl, on whose apprenticeship to strange ways, and a not very
+fastidious life, they relied for a clever and unscrupulous instrument.
+Perhaps she had more than the cunning they reckoned
+upon. &ldquo;But I 'av' took a liking to ye, Miss, and they'll not
+make nothing of Ph&oelig;be Chiffinch.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Alice was alone in her room, and Ph&oelig;be Chiffinch came
+running up the great staircase singing, and through the intervening
+suite of rooms, entered that in which her young mistress
+<a class="pagenum" name="Page_394" title="394"> </a>
+awaited her return. Her song falters, and dies into a strange
+ejaculation, as she passes the door.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;The Lord be thanked, that's over and done!&rdquo; she exclaims,
+with a face pale from excitement.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Sit down, Ph&oelig;be; you are trembling; you must drink a
+little water. Are you well?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;La! quite well, Miss,&rdquo; said Ph&oelig;be, more cheerily, and
+then burst into tears. She gulped down some of the water
+which the frightened young lady held to her lips, and recovering
+quickly, she gets on her feet, and says impatiently&mdash;&ldquo;I'm sure,
+Miss, I don't know what makes me such a fool; but I'm all
+right now, Ma'am; and you asked me, the other day, about the
+big key of the old back-door lock that I showed you, and I said,
+though it could not open no door, I would find a use for it, yet.
+So I 'av', Miss.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Go on; I recollect perfectly.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You remember the bit of parchment I asked you to write
+the words on yesterday evening, Miss? They was these:
+&lsquo;Passage on the left, from main passage to housekeeper's room,&rsquo;
+etc. Well, I was with Mr. Vargers when he locked that passage
+up, and it leads to a door in the side of the 'ouse, which it opens
+into the grounds; and in that houter door he left a key, and
+only took with him the key of the door at the other end, which
+it opens from the 'ousekeeper's passage. So all seemed sure&mdash;sure
+it is, so long as you can't get into that side passage, which
+it is locked.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I understand; go on, Ph&oelig;be.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Well, Miss, the reason I vallied that key I showed you so
+much, was because it's as like the key of the side passage as one
+egg is to another, only it won't turn in the lock. So, as that key
+I must 'av', I tacked the bit of parchment you wrote to the
+'andle of the other, which the two matches exactly, and I didn't
+tell you, Miss, thinking what a taking you'd be in, but I went
+down to try if I could not take it for the right one.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;It was kind of you not to tell me; go on,&rdquo; said the young
+lady.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Well, Miss, I 'ad the key in my pocket, ready to change;
+and I knew well how 'twould be, if I was found out&mdash;I'd get
+the sack, or be locked up 'ere myself, more likely, and no
+more chances for you. Mr. Vargers was in the room&mdash;the
+porter's room they calls it now&mdash;and in I goes. I did not see no
+one there, but Vargers and he was lookin' sly, I thought, and
+him and Mr. Boult has been talking me over, I fancy, and
+they don't quite trust me. So I began to talk, wheedling him
+the best I could to let me go into town for an hour; 'twas
+only for talk, for well I knew I shouldn't get to go; but nothing
+but chaff did he answer. And then, says I, is Mr. Levice
+<a class="pagenum" name="Page_395" title="395"> </a>
+come yet, and he said, he is, but he has a second key of the
+back door and he may 'av' let himself hout. Well, I says,
+thinking to make Vargers jealous, he's a werry pleasant gentleman,
+a bit too pleasant for me, and I'm a-going to the kitchen,
+and I'd rayther he wastnt there, smoking as he often does, and
+talking nonsense, when I'm in it. There's others that's nicer,
+to my fancy, than him&mdash;so, jest you go and see, and I'll take
+care of heverything 'ere till you come back&mdash;and don't you be
+a minute. There was the keys, lying along the chimney-piece,
+at my left, and the big table in front, and nothing to hinder me
+from changing mine for his, but Vargers' eye over me. Little I
+thought he'd 'av' bin so ready to do as I said. But he smiled
+to himself-like, and he said he'd go and see. So away he
+went; and I listens at the door till I heard his foot go on
+the tiles of the passage that goes down by the 'ousekeeper's
+room, and the billiard-room, to the kitchen; and then on tip-toe,
+as quick as light, I goes to the chimney-piece, and without
+a sound, I takes the very key I wanted in my fingers, and drops
+it into my pocket, but putting down the other in its place, I
+knocked down the big leaden hink-bottle, and didn't it make a
+bang on the floor&mdash;and a terrible hoarse voice roars out from
+the tother side of the table&mdash;&lsquo;What the devil are you doing
+there, huzzy?&rsquo; Saving your presence, Miss; and up gets Mr.
+Boult, only half awake, looking as mad as Bedlam, and I
+thought I would have fainted away! Who'd 'av' fancied he
+was in the room? He had his 'ead on the table, and the cloak
+over it, and I think, when they 'eard me a-coming downstairs,
+they agreed he should 'ide hisself so, to catch me, while Vargers
+would leave the room, to try if I would meddle with the keys,
+or the like&mdash;and while Mr. Boult was foxing, he fell asleep in
+right earnest. Warn't it a joke, Miss? So I brazent it hout,
+Miss, the best I could, and I threatened to complain to Mr.
+Levi, and said I'd stay no longer, to be talked to, that way, by
+sich as he. And Boult could not tell Vargers he was asleep,
+and so I saw him count over the keys, and up I ran, singing.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>By this time the girl was on her knees, concealing the key
+between the beds, with the others.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Thank God, Ph&oelig;be, you have got it! But, oh! all that is
+before us still!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Yes, there's work enough, Miss. I'll not be so frightened
+no more. Tom Chiffinch, that beat the Finchley pet, after
+ninety good rounds, was my brother, and I won't show nothing
+but pluck, Miss, from this out&mdash;you'll see.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Alice had proposed writing to summon her friends to her aid.
+But Ph&oelig;be protested against that extremely perilous measure.
+Her friends were away from London; who could say where?
+And she believed that the attempt to post the letters would
+<a class="pagenum" name="Page_396" title="396"> </a>
+miscarry, and that they were certain to fall into the hands
+of their jailors. She insisted that Alice should rely on the
+simple plan of escape from Mortlake.</p>
+
+<p>Martha Tansey, it is true, was anxious. She wondered how
+it was that she had not once heard from her young mistress
+since her journey to Yorkshire. And a passage in a letter
+which had reached her, from the old servant, at David Arden's
+town house, who had been mystified by Sir Richard, perplexed
+and alarmed her further, by inquiring how Miss Alice looked,
+and whether she had been knocked up by the journey to Arden
+on Wednesday.</p>
+
+<p>So matters stood.</p>
+
+<p>Each evening Mr. Levi was in attendance, and this day,
+according to rule, she went down to the grand old dining-room.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;How'sh Miss Chiffinch?&rdquo; said the little Jew, advancing to
+meet her; &ldquo;how'sh her grashe the duchess, in the top o' the
+houshe? Ish my Lady Mount-garret ash proud ash ever?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Well, I do think, Mr. Levice, there's a great change; she's
+bin growing better the last two days, and she's got a letter last
+night that's seemed to please her.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Wha'at letter?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;The letter you gave me last night for her.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;O-oh! Ah! I wonder&mdash;eh? Do you happen to know
+what wa'azh in that ere letter?&rdquo; he asked, in an insinuating
+whisper.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Not I, Mr. Levice. She don't trust me not as far as you'd
+throw a bull by the tail. You might 'av' managed that better.
+You must 'a frightened her some way about me. I try to be
+agreeable all I can, but she won't a-look at me.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Well, I don't want to know, <em>I'm</em> sure. Did she talk of going
+out of doors since?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;No; there's a frost in the hair still, and she says till that's
+gone she won't stir out.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;That frost will last a bit, I guess. Any more newshe?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Nothing.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Wait a minute 'ere,&rdquo; said Mr. Levi, and he went into the
+room beyond this, where she knew there were writing materials.</p>
+
+<p>She waited some time, and at length took the liberty of sitting
+down. She was kept a good while longer. The sun went
+down; the drowsy crimson that heralds night overspread the
+sky. She coughed; several fits of coughing she tried at short
+intervals. Had Mr. Levice, as she called him, forgotten her?
+He came out at length in the twilight.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Shtay you 'ere a few minutes more,&rdquo; said that gentleman, as
+he walked thoughtfully through the room and paused. &ldquo;You
+wazh asking yesterday where izh Sir Richard Arden. Well,
+<a class="pagenum" name="Page_397" title="397"> </a>
+hezh took hishelf off to Harden in Yorkshire, and he'll not be
+'ome again for a week.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Having delivered this piece of intelligence, he nodded, and
+slowly went to the hall, and closed the door carefully as he left
+the room. She followed to the door and listened. There was
+plainly a little fuss going on in the hall. She heard feet in
+motion, and low talking. She was curious and would have
+peeped, but the door was secured on the outside. The twilight
+had deepened, and for the first time she saw that a ray of
+candle-light came through the key-hole from the inner room.
+She opened the door softly, and saw a gentleman writing at the
+table. He was quite alone. He turned, and rose: a tall, slight
+gentleman, with a singular countenance that startled her.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You are Ph&oelig;be Chiffinch,&rdquo; said a deep, clear voice, sternly,
+as the gentleman pointed towards her with the plume end of the
+pen he held in his fingers. &ldquo;I am Mr. Longcluse. It is I who
+have sent you two pounds each day by Levi. I hear you have
+got it all right.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>The girl curtseyed, and said &ldquo;Yes, Sir,&rdquo; at the second effort,
+for she was startled. He had taken out and opened his pocket-book.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Here are <em>ten</em> pounds,&rdquo; and he handed her a rustling new
+note by the corner. &ldquo;I'll treat you liberally, but you must
+speak truth, and do exactly as you are ordered by Levi.&rdquo; She
+curtseyed again. There was something in that gentleman that
+frightened her awfully.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;If you do so, I mean to give you a hundred pounds when
+this business is over. I have paid you as my servant, and if
+you deceive me I'll punish you; and there are two or three
+little things they complain of at the &lsquo;Guy of Warwick,&rsquo; and&rdquo;
+(he swore a hard oath) &ldquo;you shall hear of them if you do.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>She curtseyed, and felt, not angry, as she would if any one
+else had said it, but frightened, for Mr. Longcluse's was a name
+of power at Mortlake.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You gave Miss Arden a letter last night. You know what
+was in it?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Yes, Sir.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;What was it?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;An offer of marriage from you, Sir.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Yes: how do you know that?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;She told me, please, Sir.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;How did she take it? Come, don't be afraid.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I'd say it pleased her well, Sir.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>He looked at her in much surprise, and was silent for a
+time.</p>
+
+<p>He repeated his question, and receiving a similar answer,
+reflected on it.</p>
+
+<p><a class="pagenum" name="Page_398" title="398"> </a>&ldquo;Yes; it <em>is</em> the best way out of her troubles; she begins to
+see that,&rdquo; he said, with a strange smile.</p>
+
+<p>He walked to the chimney-piece, and leaned on it; and forgot
+the presence of Ph&oelig;be. She was too much in awe to make any
+sign. Turning he saw her, suddenly.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You will receive some directions from Mr. Levi; take care
+you understand and execute them.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>He touched the bell, and Levi opened the door; and she and
+that person walked together to the foot of the stair, where in a
+low tone they talked.</p>
+
+<div class="image-center chapter-end">
+<img src="images/ep28.png" width="282" height="67" alt=""/>
+</div>
+
+<div class="image-center chapter-beginning"><a class="pagenum" name="Page_399" title="399"> </a>
+<img src="images/ch41.png" width="469" height="84" alt=""/>
+</div>
+
+<h2 class="no-break">CHAPTER LXXXV.<br/>
+<small>THE CRISIS.</small></h2>
+
+<div><img class="drop-cap" src="images/drop_w.png" width="72" height="72" alt=""/></div>
+
+<p class="drop-cap drop-wide"><span class="upper-case">When</span> Ph&oelig;be Chiffinch returned to Alice's room, it was
+about ten o'clock; a brilliant moon was shining on
+the old trees, and throwing their shadows on the
+misty grass. The landscape from these upper
+windows was sad and beautiful, and above the distant trees
+that were softened by the haze of night rose the silvery spire
+of the old church, in whose vault her father sleeps with a
+cold brain, thinking no more of mortgages and writs.</p>
+
+<p>Alice had been wondering what had detained her so long,
+and by the time she arrived had become very much alarmed.</p>
+
+<p>Relieved when she entered, she was again struck with fear
+when Ph&oelig;be Chiffinch had come near enough to enable her to
+see her face. She was pale, and with her eyes fixed on her,
+raised her finger in warning, and then glanced at the door
+which she had just closed.</p>
+
+<p>Her young mistress got up and approached her, also growing
+pale, for she perceived that danger was at the door.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I wish there was bolts to these doors. They've got other
+keys. Never mind; I know it all <ins title="know">now</ins>,&rdquo; she whispered, as she
+walked softly up to the end of the room farthest from the door.
+&ldquo;I said I'd stand by you, my lady; don't you lose heart. They're
+coming here in about a hour.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;For God's sake, what is it?&rdquo; said Alice faintly, her eyes
+gazing wider and wider, and her very lips growing white.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;There's work before us, my lady, and there must be no
+fooling,&rdquo; said the girl, a little sternly. &ldquo;Mr. Levi, please, has
+told me a deal, and all they expect from me, the villains. Are
+you strong enough to take your part in it, Miss? If not, best be
+quiet; best for both.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Yes; quite strong, Ph&oelig;be. Are we to leave this?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p><a class="pagenum" name="Page_400" title="400"> </a>&ldquo;I hope, Miss. We can but try.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;There's light, Ph&oelig;be,&rdquo; she said, glancing with a shiver from
+the window. &ldquo;It's a bright night.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I wish 'twas darker; but mind you what I say. Longcluse
+is to be here in a hour. Your brother's coming, God help you!
+and that little limb o' Satan, that black-eyed, black-nailed, dirty
+little Jew, Levice! They're not in town, they're out together
+near this, where a man is to meet them with writings. There's a
+licence got, Christie Vargers saw Mr. Longcluse showing it to
+your brother, Sir Richard; and I daren't tell Vargers that I'm
+for you. He'd never do nothing to vex Mr. Levice, he daren't.
+There's a parson here, a rum 'un, you may be sure. I think I
+know something about him; Vargers does. He's in the room
+now, only one away from this, next the stair head, and Vargers is
+put to keep the door in the same room. All the doors along, from
+one room to t'other, is open, from this to the stairs, except the
+last, which Vargers has the key of it; and all the doors opening
+from the rooms to the gallery is locked, so you can't get out o'
+this 'ere without passing through the one where parson is, and
+Mr. Vargers, please.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I'll speak to the clergyman,&rdquo; whispered Alice, extending her
+hands towards the far door; &ldquo;God be thanked, there's one good
+man here, and he'll save me!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;La, bless you child! why that parson had his two pen'orth
+long ago, and spends half his nights in the lock-up.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I don't understand, Ph&oelig;be.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;He had two years. He's bin in jail, Miss, Vargers says, as
+often as he has fingers and toes; and he's at his brandy and
+water as I came through, with his feet on the fender, and his
+pipe in his mouth. He's here to marry you, please 'm, to Mr.
+Longcluse, and <em>there's</em> all the good <em>he'll</em> do you; and your
+brother will give you away, Miss, and Levice and Vargers for
+witnesses, and me I dessay. It's every bit harranged, and they
+don't care the rinsing of a tumbler what you say or do; for
+through with it, slicks, they'll go, and say 'twas all right, in spite
+of all you can do; and who is there to make a row about it? Not
+you, after all's done.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;We must get away! I'll lose my life, or I'll escape!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Ph&oelig;be looked at her in silence. I think she was measuring
+her strength, and her nerve, for the undertaking.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Well, 'm, it's time it was begun. The time is come. Here's
+your cloak, Miss, I'll tie a handkerchief over my head, if we get
+out; and here's the three keys, betwixt the bed and the mattress.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>After a moment's search on her knees, she produced
+them.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;The big one and this I'll keep, and you'll manage this other,
+<a class="pagenum" name="Page_401" title="401"> </a>
+please; take it in your right hand&mdash;you must use it first. It
+opens the far door of the room where Vargers is, and if you get
+through, you'll be at the stair-head then. Don't you come in
+after me, till you see I have Vargers engaged another way. Go
+through as light as a bird flies, and take the key out of the door,
+at the other end, when you unlock it; and close it softly, else
+he'll see it, and have the house about our ears; and you know
+the big window at the drawing-room lobby; wait in the hollow
+of that window till I come. Do you understand, please,
+Miss?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Alice did perfectly.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Hish-sh!&rdquo; said the maid, with a prolonged caution.</p>
+
+<p>A dead silence followed; for a minute&mdash;several minutes neither
+seemed to breathe.</p>
+
+<p>Ph&oelig;be whispered at length&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;<em>Now</em>, Miss, are you ready?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; she whispered, and her heart beat for a moment as if
+it would suffocate her, and then was still; an icy chill stole over
+her, and as on tip-toe she followed Ph&oelig;be, she felt as if she
+glided without weight or contact, like a spirit.</p>
+
+<p>Through a dark room they passed, very softly, first, a little
+light under the door showed that there were candles in the next.
+They halted and listened. Ph&oelig;be opened the door and entered.</p>
+
+<p>Standing back in the shadow, Alice saw the room and the
+people in it, distinctly. The parson was not the sort of contraband
+clergyman she had fancied, by any means, but a thin hectic
+man of some four-and-thirty years, only looking a little dazed by
+brandy and water, and far gone in consumption. Handsome
+thin features, and a suit of seedy black, and a white choker,
+indicated that lost gentleman, who was crying silently as he
+smoked his pipe, I daresay a little bit tipsy, gazing into the fire,
+with his fatal brandy and water at his elbow.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Eh! Mr. Vargers, smoking after <em>all</em> I said to you!&rdquo; murmured
+Miss Ph&oelig;be severely, advancing toward her round-shouldered
+sweetheart, with her finger raised.</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Vargers replied pleasantly; and as this tender &ldquo;chaff&rdquo;
+flew lightly between the interlocutors, the parson looked still into
+the fire, hearing nothing of their play and banter, but sunk deep
+in the hell of his sorrowful memory.</p>
+
+<p>As Ph&oelig;be talked on, Vargers grew agreeable and tender, and
+in about three minutes after her own entrance, she saw with a
+thrill, imperfectly, just with the &ldquo;corner of her eye,&rdquo; something
+pass behind them swiftly toward the outer door. The crisis,
+then, had come. For a moment there seemed a sudden light
+before her eyes, and then a dark mist; in another she recovered
+herself.</p>
+
+<p>Vargers stood up suddenly.</p>
+
+<p><a class="pagenum" name="Page_402" title="402"> </a>&ldquo;Hullo! what's gone with the door there?&rdquo; said he, sternly
+ending their banter.</p>
+
+<p>If he had been looking on her with an eye of suspicion, he
+might have seen her colour change. But Ph&oelig;be was quick-witted
+and prompt, and saying, in hushed tones&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Well, dear, ain't I a fool, leaving the lady's door open? Look
+ye, now, Mr. Vargers, she's lying fast asleep on her bed; and
+that's the reason I took courage to come here and ask a favour.
+But I'd rayther you'd lock her door, for if she waked and missed
+me she'd be out here, and all the fat in the fire.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I dessay you're right, Miss,&rdquo; said he, with a more business-like
+gallantry; and as he shut the door and fumbled in his
+pocket for the key, she stole a look over her shoulder.</p>
+
+<p>The prisoner had got through, and the door at the other end
+was closed.</p>
+
+<p>With a secret shudder, she thanked God in her heart, while
+with a laugh she slapped Mr. Vargers' lusty shoulder, and said
+wheedlingly, &ldquo;And now for the favour, Mr. Vargers: you must
+let me down to the kitchen for five minutes.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>A little more banter and sparring followed, which ended in
+Vargers kissing her, in spite of the usual squall and protest; and
+on his essaying to let her out, and finding the door unlocked, he
+swore that it was well she asked, as he'd 'av' got it hot and heavy
+for forgetting to lock it, when the &ldquo;swells&rdquo; came up. The door
+closed upon her: so far the enterprise was successful.</p>
+
+<p>She stood at the head of the stairs; she went down a few
+steps, and listened; then cautiously she descended. The moon
+shone resplendent through the great window at the landing below
+the drawing-room. It was that at which Uncle David had
+paused to listen to the minstrelsy of Mr. Longcluse.</p>
+
+<p>Here in that flood of white light stands Alice Arden, like a
+statue of horror. The girl, without saying a word, takes her by
+the cold hand, and leads her quickly down to the arch that opens
+on the hall.</p>
+
+<p>Just as they reached this point, the door of the room, at the
+right of the hall door, occupied by Mr. Boult, who did duty as
+porter, opens, and stepping out with a candle in his hand, he
+calls in a savage tone&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;What's the row?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Ph&oelig;be pushed Alice's hand in the direction of the passage
+that leads to the housekeeper's room. For a moment the young
+lady stands irresolute. Her presence of mind returns. She
+noiselessly takes the hint, and enters the corridor; Ph&oelig;be
+advances to answer his challenge.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Well, Mr. Boult, and what <em>is</em> the row, pray?&rdquo; she pertly
+inquires, walking up to that gentleman, who eyes her sulkily,
+raising his candle, and displaying as he does so a big patch of
+<a class="pagenum" name="Page_403" title="403"> </a>
+red on each cheek-bone, indicative of the brandy, of which he
+smells potently.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;What's the row?&mdash;<em>you're</em> the row! What brings you down
+here, Miss Chivvige?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;My legs! There's your answer, you cross boy.&rdquo; She
+laughed wheedlingly.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Then walk you up again, and be d&mdash;d.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;On! Mr. Boult.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;P! Miss Phibbie.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Boult was speaking thick, and plainly was in no mood to
+stand nonsense.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Now Mr. Boult, where's the good of making yourself disagreeable?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Look at this 'ere,&rdquo; he replied, grimly holding a mighty watch,
+of some white metal, under her eyes&mdash;&ldquo;you know your clock as
+well as me, Miss Chavvinge. The gentlemen will be in this 'ere
+awl in twenty minutes.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;All the more need to be quick, Mr. Boult, Sir, and why will
+you keep me 'ere talking?&rdquo; she replies.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You'll go up them 'ere stairs, young 'oman; you'll not put a
+foot in the kitchen to-night,&rdquo; he says more doggedly.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Well, we'll see how it will be when they comes and I tells
+'em&mdash;&lsquo;Please, gentlemen, the young lady, which you told me
+most particular to humour her in everything she might call for,
+wished a cup of tea, which I went down, having locked her door
+first, which here is the key of it,&rsquo;&rdquo; and she held it up for the
+admiration of Mr. Boult, &ldquo;&lsquo;which I consider it the most importantest
+key in the 'ouse; and though the young lady, she lay
+on her bed a-gasping, poor thing, for her cup of tea, Mr. Boult
+stopt me in the awl, and swore she shouldn't have a drop, which
+I could not get it, and went hup again, for he smelt all over of
+brandy, and spoke so wiolent, I daren't do as you desired.&rsquo;&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I don't smell of brandy; no, I don't; do I?&rdquo; he says,
+appealing to an imaginary audience. &ldquo;And I don't want to stop
+you, if so be the case is so. But you'll come to this door and
+report yourself in five minute's time, or I'll tell 'em there's no
+good keepin' me 'ere no <ins title="longer">longer.</ins> I don't want no quarrellin' nor
+disputin', only I'll do my dooty, and I'm not afraid of man,
+woman, or child!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>With which magnanimous sentiment he turned on his clumsy
+heel, and entered his apartment again.</p>
+
+<p>In a moment more Ph&oelig;be and Alice were at the door
+which admits to a passage leading literally to the side of the
+house. This door Ph&oelig;be softly unlocks, and when they had
+entered, locks again on the inside. They stood now on the
+passage leading to a side door, to which a few paces brought
+them. She opens it. The cold night air enters, and they step
+<a class="pagenum" name="Page_404" title="404"> </a>
+out upon the grass. She locks the door behind them, and
+throws the key among the nettles that grew in a thick grove at
+her right.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Hold my hand, my lady; it's near done now,&rdquo; she whispers
+almost fiercely; and having listened for a few seconds, and
+looked up to see if any light appeared in the windows, she
+ventures, with a beating heart, from under the deep shadow of
+the gables, into the bright broad moonlight, and with light steps
+together they speed across the grass, and reach the cover of a
+long grove of tall trees and underwood. All is silent here.</p>
+
+<p>Soon a distant shouting brings them to a terrible stand-still.
+Breathlessly Ph&oelig;be listens. No; it was not from the house.
+They resume their flight.</p>
+
+<p>Now under the ivy-laden branches of a tall old tree an owl
+startles them with its shriek.</p>
+
+<p>As Alice stares around her, when they stop in such
+momentary alarm, how strange the scene looks! How immense
+and gloomy the trees about them! How black their limbs
+stretch across the moon-lit sky! How chill and wild the moonlight
+spreads over the undulating sward! What a spectral and
+exaggerated shape all things take in her scared and over-excited
+gaze!</p>
+
+<p>Now they are approaching the long row of noble beeches that
+line the boundary of Mortlake. The ivy-bowered wall is near
+them, and the screen of gigantic hollies that guard the lonely
+postern through which Ph&oelig;be has shrewdly chosen to direct
+their escape.</p>
+
+<p>Thank God! they are at it. In her hand she holds the key,
+which shines in the moon-beams.</p>
+
+<p>Hush! what is this? Voices close to the door! Step back
+behind the holly clump, for your lives, quickly! A key grinds
+in the lock; the bolt works rustily; the door opens, and tall
+Mr. Longcluse enters, with every sinister line and shadow of his
+pale face marked with a death-like sternness, in the moonlight.
+Mr. Levi enters almost beside him; how white his big eyeballs
+gleam, as he steps in under the same cold light! Who next?</p>
+
+<p>Her <em>brother</em>! Oh, God! The mad impulse to throw her
+arms about his neck, and shriek her wild appeal to his manhood,
+courage, love, and stake all on that momentary frenzy!</p>
+
+<p>As this group halts in silence, while Sir Richard locks the
+door, the Jew directs his big dark eyes, as she thinks, right upon
+Ph&oelig;be Chiffinch, who stands in the shadow, and is therefore,
+she faintly hopes, not visible behind the screen of glittering
+leaves. Her eyes, nevertheless, meet his. He advances his
+head a little, with more than his usual prying malignity, she
+thinks. Her heart flutters, and sinks. She is on the point of
+stepping from her shelter and surrendering. With his cane he
+<a class="pagenum" name="Page_405" title="405"> </a>
+strikes at the leaves, aiming, I daresay, at a moth, for nothing is
+quite below his notice, and he likes smashing even a fly. In
+this case, having hit or missed it, he turns his fiery eyes, to the
+infinite relief of the girl, another way.</p>
+
+<p>The three men who have thus stept into the grounds of Mortlake
+don't utter a word as they stand there. They now recommence
+their walk toward the house.</p>
+
+<p>Ph&oelig;be Chiffinch, breathless, is holding Alice Arden's wrist
+with a firm grasp. As they brush the holly-leaves, in passing,
+the very sprays that touch the dresses of the scared girls are
+stirring. The pale group drifts by in silence. They have each
+something to meditate on. They are not garrulous. On they
+walk, like three shadows. The distance widens, the shapes
+grow fainter.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;They'll soon be at the house, Ma'am, and wild work then.
+You'll do something for poor Vargers? Well, time enough!
+You must not lose heart now, my lady. You're all right, if you
+keep up for ten minutes longer. You don't feel faint-like!
+Good lawk, Ma'am! rouse up.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I'm better, Ph&oelig;be; I'm quite well again. Come on&mdash;come
+on!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Carefully, to make as little noise as possible she turned the
+key in the lock, and they found themselves in a narrow lane running
+by the wall, and under the trees of Mortlake.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Which way?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Not toward the &lsquo;Guy of Warwick.&rsquo; They'll soon be in chase
+of us, and that is the way they'll take. 'Twould never do.
+Come away, my lady; it won't be long till we meet a cab or
+something to fetch us where you please. Lean on me. I wish
+we were away from this wall. What way do you mean to go?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;To my Uncle David's house.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>And having exchanged these words, they pursued their way
+side by side, for a time, in silence.</p>
+
+<div class="image-center chapter-end">
+<img src="images/ep09.png" width="218" height="46" alt=""/>
+</div>
+
+<div class="image-center chapter-beginning"><a class="pagenum" name="Page_406" title="406"> </a>
+<img src="images/ch09.png" width="464" height="77" alt=""/>
+</div>
+
+<h2 class="no-break">CHAPTER LXXXVI.<br/>
+<small>PURSUIT.</small></h2>
+
+<div><img class="drop-cap" src="images/drop_a.png" width="72" height="73" alt=""/></div>
+
+<p class="drop-cap"><span class="upper-case">Arrived</span> at Mortlake, when Mr. Longcluse had discovered
+with certainty the flight of Alice Arden, his
+first thought was that Sir Richard had betrayed
+him. There was a momentary paroxysm of insane
+violence, in which, if he could only have discovered that he was
+the accomplice of Alice's escape, I think he would have killed
+him.</p>
+
+<p>It subsided. How could Alice Arden have possessed such an
+influence over this man, who seemed to hate her? He sat down,
+and placed his hand to his broad, pale forehead, his dark eyes
+glaring on the floor, in what seemed an intensity of thought and
+passion. He was seized with a violent trembling fit. It lasted
+only for a few minutes. I sometimes think he loved that girl
+desperately, and would have made her an idolatrous husband.</p>
+
+<p>He walked twice or thrice up and down the great parlour in
+which they sat, and then with cold malignity said to Sir
+Richard&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;But for you she would have married me; but for you I
+should have secured her now. <em>Consider</em>, how shall I settle with
+you?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Settle how you will&mdash;do what you will. I swear (and he did
+swear hard enough, if an oath could do it, to satisfy any man)
+I've had <em>nothing</em> to do <ins title="it">with it</ins>. I've never had a hint that she
+meditated leaving this place. I can't conceive how it was done,
+nor who managed it, and I know no more than you do where
+she is gone.&rdquo; And he clenched his vehement disclaimer with
+an imprecation.</p>
+
+<p>Longcluse was silent for a minute.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;She has gone, I assume, to David Arden's house,&rdquo; he said,
+looking down. &ldquo;There is no other house to receive her in
+<a class="pagenum" name="Page_407" title="407"> </a>
+town, and she does not know that he is away still. She knows
+that Lady May, and other friends, have gone. She's <em>there</em>. The
+will makes you, colourably, her guardian. You shall claim the
+custody of her person. We'll go there, and remove her.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Old Sir Reginald's will, I may remark, had been made years
+before, when Richard was not twenty-two, and Alice little more
+than a child, and the baronet and his son good friends.</p>
+
+<p>He stalked out. At the steps was his trap, which was there
+to take Levi into town. That gentleman, I need not say, he did
+not treat with much ceremony. He mounted, and Sir Richard
+Arden beside him; and, leaving the Jew to shift for himself, he
+drove at a furious pace down the avenue. The porter placed
+there by Longcluse, of course, opened the gate instantaneously
+at his call. Outside stood a cab, with a trunk on it. An old
+woman at the lodge-window, knocking and clamouring, sought
+admission.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Let no one in,&rdquo; said Longcluse sternly to the man, who
+locked the iron gate on their passing out.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Hallo! What brings <em>her</em> here? That's the old housekeeper!&rdquo;
+said Longcluse, pulling up suddenly.</p>
+
+<p>It was quite true. Her growing uneasiness about Alice had
+recalled the old woman from the North. Martha Tansey, who
+had heard the clang of the gate and the sound of wheels and
+hoofs, turned about and came to the side of the tax-cart, over
+which Longcluse was leaning. In the brilliant moonlight, on
+the white road, the branches cast a network of black shadow.
+A patch of light fell clear on the side of the trap, and on Longcluse's
+ungloved hand as he leaned on it.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Here am I, Martha Tansey, has lived fifty year wi' the
+family, and what for am I shut out of Mortlake now?&rdquo; she demanded,
+with stern audacity.</p>
+
+<p>A sudden change, however, came over her countenance, which
+contracted in horror, and her old eyes opened wide and white
+as she gazed on the back of Longcluse's hand, on which was a
+peculiar star-shaped scar. She drew back with a low sound,
+like the growl of a wicked old cat; it rose gradually to such a
+yell and a cry to God as made Richard's blood run cold, and
+lifting her hand toward her temple, waveringly, the old woman
+staggered back, and fell in a faint on the road.</p>
+
+<p>Longcluse jumped down and hammered at the window.
+&ldquo;Hallo!&rdquo; he cried to the man, &ldquo;send one of your people with
+this old woman; she's ill. Let her go in that cab to Sir
+Richard Arden's house in town; you know it.&rdquo; And he cried to
+the cabman, &ldquo;Lift her in, will you?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>And having done his devoir thus by the old woman, he springs
+again into his tax-cart, snatches the reins from Sir Richard, and
+drives on at a savage pace for town.</p>
+
+<p><a class="pagenum" name="Page_408" title="408"> </a>Longcluse threw the reins to Sir Richard when they reached
+David Arden's house, and himself thundered at the door.</p>
+
+<p>They had searched Mortlake House for Alice, and that vain
+quest had not wasted more than half-an-hour. He rightly conjectured
+that, if Alice had fled to David Arden's house, some of
+the servants who received her must be still on the alert. The
+door is opened promptly by an elderly servant woman.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Sir Richard Arden is at the door, and he wants to know
+whether his sister, Miss Arden, has arrived here from Mortlake.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Yes, Sir; she's up-stairs; but not by no means well, Sir.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Longcluse stepped in, to secure a footing, and beckoning excitedly
+to Sir Richard, called, &ldquo;Come in; all right. Don't
+mind the horse; it will take its chance.&rdquo; He walked impatiently
+to the foot of the stairs, and turned again toward the street
+door.</p>
+
+<p>At this moment, and before Sir Richard had time to come in,
+there come swarming out of David Arden's study, most unexpectedly,
+nearly a dozen men, more than half of whom are in the
+garb of gentlemen, and some three of them police. Uncle David
+himself, in deep conversation with two gentlemen, one of whom
+is placing in his breast-pocket a paper which he has just folded,
+leads the way into the hall.</p>
+
+<p>As they there stand for a minute under the lamp, Mr. Longcluse,
+gazing at him sternly from the stair, caught his eye. Old
+David Arden stepped back a little, growing pale, with a sudden
+frown.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Oh! Mr. Arden?&rdquo; says Longcluse, advancing as if he had
+come in search of him.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;That's enough, Sir,&rdquo; cries Mr. Arden, extending his hand
+peremptorily toward him; and he adds, with a glance at the
+constables, &ldquo;<em>There's</em> the man. That is Walter Longcluse.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Longcluse glances over his shoulder, and then grimly at the
+group before him, and gathered himself as if for a struggle; the
+next moment he walks forward frankly, and asks, &ldquo;What is the
+meaning of all this?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;A warrant, Sir,&rdquo; answers the foremost policeman, clutching
+him by the collar.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;No use, Sir, making a row,&rdquo; expostulates the next, also
+catching him by the collar and arm.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Mr. Arden, can you explain this?&rdquo; says Mr. Longcluse
+coolly.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You may as well give in quiet,&rdquo; says the third policeman,
+producing the warrant. &ldquo;A warrant for murder. Walter Longcluse,
+<i lang="la" xml:lang="la">alias</i> Yelland Mace, I arrest you in the Queen's name.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;There's a magistrate here? Oh! yes, I see. How d'ye do,
+Mr. Harman? My name is Longcluse, as you know. The
+name Mays, or any other <i lang="la" xml:lang="la">alias</i>, you'll not insult me by applying
+<a class="pagenum" name="Page_409" title="409"> </a>
+to me, if you please. Of course this is obvious and utter
+trumpery. Are there informations, or what the devil is it?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;They have just been sworn before me, Sir,&rdquo; answered the
+magistrate, who was a little man, with a wave of his hand, and
+his head high.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Well, really! don't you <em>see</em> the absurdity? Upon my soul!
+It <em>is</em> really <em>too</em> ridiculous! You won't inconvenience me, of
+course, unnecessarily. My own recognisance, I suppose, will
+do?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Can't entertain your application; quite out of the question,&rdquo;
+said his worship, with his hands in his pockets, rising slightly
+on his toes, and descending on his heels, as he delivered this
+sentence with a stoical shake of his head.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You'll send for my attorney, of course? I'm not to be humbugged,
+you know.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I must tell you, Mr. Longcluse, I can't listen to such
+language,&rdquo; observes Mr. Harman sublimely.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;If you have informations, they are the dreams of a madman.
+I don't blame any one here. I say, policeman, you need not
+hold me quite so hard. I only say, joke or earnest, I can't
+make head or tail of it; and there's not a man in London who
+won't be shocked to hear how I've been treated. Once more,
+Mr. Harman, I tender bail, any amount. It's too ridiculous.
+You can't really have a difficulty.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;The informations are very strong, Sir, and the offence, you
+know as well as I do, Mr. Longcluse, is not bailable.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Longcluse shrugged, and laughed gently.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I may have a cab or something? My trap's at the door.
+It's not solemn enough, eh, Mr. Harman? Will you tell one of
+your fellows to pick up a cab? Perhaps, Mr. Arden, you'll allow
+me a chair to sit down upon?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You can sit in the study, if you please,&rdquo; says David Arden.</p>
+
+<p>And Longcluse enters the room with the police about him,
+while the servant goes to look for a cab. Sir Richard Arden,
+you may be sure, was not there. He saw that something was
+wrong, and he had got away to his own house. On arriving
+there, he sent to make inquiry, cautiously, at his uncle's, and
+thus learned the truth.</p>
+
+<p>Standing at the window, he saw his messenger return, let him
+in himself, and then considered, as well as a man in so critical
+and terrifying a situation can, the wisest course for him to adopt.
+The simple one of flight he ultimately resolved on. He knew
+that Longcluse had still two executions against him, on which,
+at any moment, he might arrest him. He knew that he might
+launch at him, at any moment, the thunderbolt which would
+blast him. He must wait, however, until the morning had confirmed
+the news; that certain, he dared not act.</p>
+
+<p><a class="pagenum" name="Page_410" title="410"> </a>With a cold and fearless bearing, Longcluse had by this time
+entered the dreadful door of a prison. His attorney was with
+him nearly the entire night.</p>
+
+<p>David Arden, as he promised, had dictated to him in outline
+the awful case he had massed against his client.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I don't want any man taken by surprise or at disadvantage;
+I simply wish for truth,&rdquo; said he.</p>
+
+<p>A copy of the written statement of Paul Davies, whatever it
+was worth, duly witnessed, was already in his hands; the sworn
+depositions of the same person, made in his last illness, were
+also there. There were also the sworn depositions of Vanboeren,
+who <em>had</em>, after all, recovered speech and recollection; and a
+deposition, besides, very unexpected, of old Martha Tansey, who
+swore distinctly to the scar, a very peculiar mark indeed, on the
+back of his left hand. This the old woman had recognised with
+horror, at a moment so similar, as the scar, long forgotten, which
+she had for a terrible moment seen on the hand of Yelland
+Mace, as he clutched the rail of the gig while engaged in the
+murder.</p>
+
+<p>The plaster masks, which figured in the affidavits of Vanboeren,
+and of David Arden, were re-cast from the moulds, and
+made an effectual identification, corroborated, in a measure, by
+Mr. Plumes' silhouette of Yelland Mace.</p>
+
+<p>Other surviving witnesses had also turned up, who had deposed
+when the murder of Harry Arden was a recent event.
+The whole case was, in the eyes of the attorney, a very awful
+one. Mr. Longcluse's counsel was called up, like a physician
+whose patient is <i lang="la" xml:lang="la">in extremis</i>, at dead of night, and had a talk
+with the attorney, and kept his notes to ponder over.</p>
+
+<p>As early as prison rules would permit, he was with Mr. Longcluse,
+where the attorney awaited him.</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Blinkinsop looked very gloomy.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Do you despair?&rdquo; asked Mr. Longcluse sharply, after a long
+disquisition.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Let me ask you one question, Mr. Longcluse. You have,
+before I ask it, I assume, implicit confidence in us; am I
+right?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Certainly&mdash;implicit.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;If you are innocent, we might venture on a line of defence
+which may possibly break down the case for the Crown. If you
+are guilty, that line would be fatal.&rdquo; He hesitated, and looked
+at Mr. Longcluse.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I know such a question has been asked in like circumstances,
+and I have no hesitation in telling you that I am <em>not</em> innocent.
+Assume my guilt.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>The attorney, who had been drumming a little tattoo on the
+table, watches Longcluse earnestly as he speaks, suspending his
+<a class="pagenum" name="Page_411" title="411"> </a>
+tune, now lowers his eyes to the table, and resumed his drumming
+slowly with a very dismal countenance. He had been
+talking over the chances with this eminent counsel, Mr. Blinkinsop,
+Q.C., and he knew what his opinion would now be.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;One effect of a judgment in this case is forfeiture?&rdquo; inquired
+Mr. Longcluse.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; answered counsel.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Everything goes to the Crown, eh?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Yes; clearly.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Well, I have neither wife nor children. I need not care;
+but suppose I make my will now; that's a good will, ain't it,
+between this and judgment, if things should go wrong?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Certainly,&rdquo; said Mr. Blinkinsop. &ldquo;No judgment no forfeiture.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;And now, Doctor, don't be afraid; tell me truly, shall I <em>do</em>?&rdquo;
+said Mr. Longcluse, leaning back, and looking darkly and
+steadily in his face.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;It is a nasty case.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Don't be afraid, I say. I should like to know, are the
+chances two to one against me?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I'm afraid they are.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Ten to one? Pray say what you think.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Well, I think so.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Longcluse grew paler. They were all three silent. After
+about a minute, he said, in a very low tone,&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You don't think I have a chance? Don't mislead me.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;It is very gloomy.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Longcluse pressed his hand to his mouth. There was a
+silence. Perhaps he wished to hide some nervous movement
+there. He stood up, walked about a little, and then stood by
+Mr. Blinkinsop's chair, with his fingers on the back of it.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;We must make a great fight of this,&rdquo; said Mr. Longcluse
+suddenly. &ldquo;We'll fight it hard; we must win it. We <em>shall</em> win
+it, by<span style="white-space: nowrap;">&mdash;&mdash;</span>&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>And after a short pause, he added gently,&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;That will do. I think I'll rest now; more, perhaps, another
+time. Good-bye.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>As they left the room, he signed to the attorney to stay.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I have something for you&mdash;a word or two.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>The attorney turned back, and they remained closeted for a
+time.</p>
+
+<div class="image-center chapter-beginning"><a class="pagenum" name="Page_412" title="412"> </a>
+<img src="images/ch06.png" width="442" height="85" alt=""/>
+</div>
+
+<h2 class="no-break">CHAPTER LXXXVII.<br/>
+<small>CONCLUSION.</small></h2>
+
+<div><img class="drop-cap" src="images/drop_s.png" width="73" height="72" alt=""/></div>
+
+<p class="drop-cap"><span class="upper-case">Sir Richard Arden</span> had learned how matters
+were with Mr. Longcluse. He hesitated. Flight
+might provoke action of the kind for which there
+seemed no longer a motive.</p>
+
+<p>In an agony of dubitation, as the day wore on, he was
+interrupted. Mr. Rooke, Mr. Longcluse's attorney, had called.
+There was no good in shirking a meeting. He was shown in.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;This is for you, Sir Richard,&rdquo; said Mr. Rooke, presenting a
+large letter. &ldquo;Mr. Longcluse wrote it about three hours ago,
+and requested me to place it in your own hand, as I now do.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;It is not any <em>legal</em> paper<span style="white-space: nowrap;">&mdash;&mdash;</span>&rdquo; began Sir Richard.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I haven't an idea,&rdquo; answered he. &ldquo;He gave it to me thus.
+I had some things to do for him afterwards, and a call to make,
+at his desire, at Mr. David Arden's. When I got home I was
+sent for again. I suppose you heard the news?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;No; what is it?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Oh, dear, really! They have heard it some time at Mr.
+Arden's. You didn't hear about Mr. Longcluse?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;No, nothing, excepting what we all know&mdash;his arrest.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>The attorney's countenance darkened, and he said, dropping
+his voice as low as he would have given a message in church&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;Oh, poor gentleman! he died to-day. Some kind of fit, I
+believe; he's gone!&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p>Then Mr. Rooke went into particulars, so far as he knew
+them, and mentioned that the coroner's inquest would be held
+that afternoon; and so he departed.</p>
+
+<p>Unmixed satisfaction accompanied the hearing of this news
+in Sir Richard's mind. But with reflection came the terrifying
+question, &ldquo;Has Levi got hold of that instrument of torture and
+ruin&mdash;the forged signature?&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p><a class="pagenum" name="Page_413" title="413"> </a>In this new horror he saw the envelope which Rooke had
+handed to him, upon the table. He opened it, and saw the
+<ins title="orged">forged</ins> deed. Written across it, in Longcluse's hand, were the
+words&mdash;</p>
+
+<blockquote>
+<p>&ldquo;Paid by W. Longcluse before due.</p>
+
+<p class="right small-caps">&ldquo;W. Longcluse.&rdquo;</p>
+</blockquote>
+
+<p>That day's date was added.</p>
+
+<p>So the evidence of his guilt was no longer in the hands of a
+stranger, and Sir Richard Arden was saved.</p>
+
+<p>David Arden had already received under like circumstances,
+and by the same hand, two papers of immense importance.
+The first written in Rooke's hand and duly witnessed, was a
+very short will, signed by the testator, Walter Longcluse, and
+leaving his enormous wealth absolutely to David Arden. The
+second was a letter which attached a trust to this bequest.
+The letter said&mdash;</p>
+
+<blockquote>
+<p>&ldquo;I am the son of Edwin Raikes, your cousin. He had cast me off
+for my vices, when I committed the crime, not intended to have
+amounted to murder. It was Harry Arden's determined resistance
+and my danger that cost him his life. I did kill Lebas. I could not
+help it. He was a fool, and might have ruined me; and that villain,
+Vanboeren, has spoken truth for once.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I meant to set up the Arden family in my person. I should have
+taken the name. My father relented on his death-bed, and left me his
+money. I went to New York, and received it. I made a new start
+in life. On the Bourse in Paris, and in Vienna, I made a fortune by
+speculation; I improved it in London. You may take it all by my will.
+Do with half the interest as you please, during your lifetime. The
+other half pay to Miss Alice Arden, and the entire capital you are to
+secure to her on your death.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;I had taken assignments of all the mortgages affecting the Arden
+estates. They must go to Miss Arden, and be secured unalienably to
+her.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;My life has been arduous and direful. That miserable crime hung
+over me, and its dangers impeded me at every turn.</p>
+
+<p>&ldquo;You have played your game well, but with all the odds of the
+position in your favour. I am tired, beaten. The match is over, and
+you may rise now and say Checkmate.</p>
+
+<p class="right small-caps">&ldquo;Walter Longcluse.&rdquo;</p>
+</blockquote>
+
+<p>That Longcluse had committed suicide, of course I can have
+no doubt. It must have been effected by some unusually
+subtle poison. The post-mortem examination failed to discover
+its presence. But there was found in his desk a curious
+paper, in <ins title="French.">French,</ins> published about five months before, upon
+<a class="pagenum" name="Page_414" title="414"> </a>
+certain vegetable poisons, whose presence in the system no
+chemical test detects, and no external trace records. This
+paper was noted here and there on the margin, and had been
+obviously carefully read. Any of these tinctures he could without
+much trouble have procured from Paris. But no distinct
+light was ever thrown upon this inquiry.</p>
+
+<p>In a small and lonely house, tenanted by Longcluse, in the
+then less crowded region of Richmond, were found proofs, no
+longer needed, of Longcluse's identity, both with the horseman
+who had met Paul Davies on Hampstead Heath, and the
+person who crossed the Channel from Southampton with
+David Arden, and afterwards met him in the streets of Paris,
+as we have seen. There he had been watching his movements,
+and traced him, with dreadful suspicion, to the house of Vanboeren.
+The turn of a die had determined the fate of David
+Arden that night. Longcluse had afterwards watched and
+seized an opportunity of entering Vanboeren's house. He
+knew that the baron expected the return of his messenger,
+rang the bell, and was admitted. The old servant had gone to
+her bed, and was far away in that vast house.</p>
+
+<p>Longcluse would have stabbed him, but the baron recognised
+him, and sprang back with a yell. Instantly Longcluse had
+used his revolver; but before he could make assurance doubly
+sure, his quick ear detected a step outside. He then made his
+exit through a window into a deserted lane at the side of the
+house, and had not lost a moment in commencing his flight for
+London.</p>
+
+<p>With respect to the murder of Lebas, the letter of Longcluse
+pretty nearly explains it. That unlucky Frenchman had
+attended him <ins title="though">through</ins> his recovery under the hands of Vanboeren;
+and Longcluse feared to trust, as it now might turn
+out, his life, in his giddy keeping. Of course, Lebas had no
+idea of the nature of his crime, or that in England was the
+scene of its perpetration. Longcluse had made up his mind
+promptly on the night of the billiard-match played in the
+Saloon Tavern. When every eye was fixed upon the balls, he
+and Lebas met, as they had ultimately agreed, in the smoking-room.
+A momentary meeting it was to have been. The
+dagger which he placed in his keeping, Longcluse plunged into
+his heart. In the stream of blood that instantaneously flowed
+from the wound Longcluse stepped, and made one distinct
+impression of his boot-sole on the boards. A tracing of this
+Paul Davies had made, and had got the signatures of two or
+three respectable Londoners before the room filled, attesting
+its accuracy, he affecting, while he did so, to be a member of
+the detective police, from which body, for a piece of <em>over</em>-cleverness,
+he had been only a few weeks before dismissed.
+<a class="pagenum" name="Page_415" title="415"> </a>
+Having made his tracing, he obscured the blood-mark on the
+floor.</p>
+
+<p>The opportunity of distinguishing himself at his old craft, to
+the prejudice of the force, whom he would have liked to
+mortify, while earning, perhaps, his own restoration, was his
+first object. The delicacy of the shape of the boot struck him
+next. He then remembered having seen Longcluse&mdash;and his
+was the only eye that observed him&mdash;pass swiftly from the
+passage leading to the smoking-room at the beginning of the
+game. His mind had now matter to work upon; and hence
+his visit to Bolton Street to secure possession of the boot,
+which he did by an audacious <em>ruse</em>.</p>
+
+<p>His subsequent interview with Mr. Longcluse, in presence of
+David Arden, was simply a concerted piece of acting, on which
+Longcluse, when he had made his terms with Davies, insisted,
+as a security against the re-opening of the extortion.</p>
+
+<p>Nothing will induce Alice to accept one farthing of Longcluse's
+magnificent legacy. Secretly Uncle David is resolved
+to make it up to her from his own wealth, which is very great.</p>
+
+<p>Richard Arden's story is not known to any living person but
+the Jew Levi, and vaguely to his sister, in whose mind it
+remains as something horrible, but never approached.</p>
+
+<p>Levi keeps the secret for reasons more cogent than charitable.
+First he kept it to himself as a future instrument of
+profit. But on his insinuating something that promised such
+relations to Sir Richard, the young gentleman met it with so
+bold a front, with fury so unaffected, and with threats so
+alarming, founded upon a trifling matter of which the Jew had
+never suspected his knowledge, that Mr. Levi has not ventured
+either to &ldquo;utilise&rdquo; his knowledge, in a profitable way, or afterwards
+to circulate the story for the solace of his malice. They
+seem, in Mr. Rooke's phrase, to have turned their backs on
+one another; and as some years have passed, and lapse of time
+does not improve the case of a person in Mr. Levi's position,
+we may safely assume that he will never dare to circulate any
+definite stories to Sir Richard's prejudice. A sufficient motive,
+indeed, for doing so exists no longer, for Sir Richard, who had
+lived an unsettled life travelling on the Continent, and still
+playing at foreign tables when he could afford it, died suddenly
+at Florence in the autumn of '69.</p>
+
+<p>Vivian Darnley has been in &ldquo;the House,&rdquo; now, nearly four
+years. Uncle David is very proud of him; and more impartial
+people think that he will, at last, take an honourable place in
+that assembly. His last speech has been spoken of everywhere
+with applause. David Arden's immensely increased
+wealth enables him to entertain very magnificent plans for this
+young man. He intends that he shall take the name of Arden,
+<a class="pagenum" name="Page_416" title="416"> </a>
+and earn the transmission of the title, or the distinction of a
+greater one.</p>
+
+<p>A year ago Vivian Darnley married Alice Arden, and no two
+people can be happier.</p>
+
+<p>Lady May, although her girlish ways have not forsaken her,
+has no present thoughts of making any man happy. She had
+a great cry all to herself when Sir Richard died, and she now
+persuades herself that he never meant one word he said of her,
+and that if the truth were known, although after that day she
+never spoke to him more, he had never really cared for more
+than one woman on earth. It was all spite of that odious Lady
+Wynderbroke!</p>
+
+<p>Alice has never seen Mortlake since the night of her flight
+from its walls.</p>
+
+<p>The two old servants, Crozier and Martha Tansey, whose
+acquaintance we made in that suburban seat of the Ardens, are
+both, I am glad to say, living still, and extremely comfortable.</p>
+
+<p>Ph&oelig;be Chiffinch, I am glad to add, was jilted by her uninteresting
+lover, who little knew what a fortune he was slighting.
+His desertion does not seem to have broken her heart, or
+at all affected her spirits. The gratitude of Alice Arden has
+established her in the prosperous little Yorkshire town, the
+steep roof, chimneys, and church tower of which are visible,
+among the trees, from the windows of Arden Court. She is
+the energetic and popular proprietress of the &ldquo;Cat and Fiddle,&rdquo;
+to which thriving inn, at a nominal rent, a valuable farm is
+attached. A fortune of two thousand pounds from the same
+grateful friend awaits her marriage, which can't be far off, with
+the handsome son of rich Farmer Shackleton.</p>
+
+<div class="image-center">
+<img src="images/end.png" width="224" height="110" alt=""/>
+</div>
+
+<p class="center">THE END.</p>
+
+<div id="tnote-bottom">
+<p class="center"><a name="tn-bottom"><b>Transcriber's Note:</b></a></p>
+<p>The following is a list of corrections made to the original. The
+first passage is the original passage, the second the corrected one.</p>
+
+<ul id="corrections">
+<li><a href="#Advertisement">Advertisement</a>:<br/>
+ALL <span class="correction">IN</span> DARK<br/>
+ALL <span class="correction">IN THE</span> DARK
+</li>
+<li><a href="#Page_12">Page 12</a>:<br/>
+Longcluse <span class="correction">good humouredly</span>.<br/>
+Longcluse <span class="correction">good-humouredly</span>.
+</li>
+<li><a href="#Page_29">Page 29</a>:<br/>
+Mr. Longcluse, the <span class="correction">millionarie</span>, had, of course, many poor<br/>
+Mr. Longcluse, the <span class="correction">millionaire</span>, had, of course, many poor
+</li>
+<li><a href="#Page_39">Page 39</a>:<br/>
+when you sent me down for Charles; and the boy will be <span class="correction">back.</span><br/>
+when you sent me down for Charles; and the boy will be <span class="correction">back,</span>
+</li>
+<li><a href="#Page_40">Page 40</a>:<br/>
+&ldquo;<span class="correction">Oh</span> oh! very good. And now, Sir,&rdquo; he said, in rising<br/>
+&ldquo;<span class="correction">Oh,</span> oh! very good. And now, Sir,&rdquo; he said, in rising
+</li>
+<li><a href="#Page_49">Page 49</a>:<br/>
+&ldquo;You know him, <span class="correction">Mr</span> Darnley?&rdquo; inquired Lady May.<br/>
+&ldquo;You know him, <span class="correction">Mr.</span> Darnley?&rdquo; inquired Lady May.
+</li>
+<li><a href="#Page_50">Page 50</a>:<br/>
+&ldquo;Why should it?&rdquo; laughed Vivian Darnley, partly to <span class="correction">cover</span><br/>
+&ldquo;Why should it?&rdquo; laughed Vivian Darnley, partly to <span class="correction">cover,</span>
+</li>
+<li><a href="#Page_53">Page 53</a>:<br/>
+fright, and then pretended to think her <span class="correction">great</span> deal more frightened<br/>
+fright, and then pretended to think her <span class="correction">a great</span> deal more frightened
+</li>
+<li><a href="#Page_60">Page 60</a>:<br/>
+carriages, and I'll send a servant with you, and <span class="correction">he ll</span> arrange<br/>
+carriages, and I'll send a servant with you, and <span class="correction">he'll</span> arrange
+</li>
+<li><a href="#Page_64">Page 64</a>:<br/>
+He was a man who was thought likely to <span class="correction">marry</span> His estate<br/>
+He was a man who was thought likely to <span class="correction">marry.</span> His estate
+</li>
+<li><a href="#Page_68">Page 68</a>:<br/>
+him so good-natured. She <span class="correction">don't</span> know what to<br/>
+him so good-natured. She <span class="correction">doesn't</span> know what to
+</li>
+<li><a href="#Page_73">Page 73</a>:<br/>
+<span class="correction">decased</span>; the particulars were as follows:&mdash;&rdquo;<br/>
+<span class="correction">deceased</span>; the particulars were as follows:&mdash;&rdquo;
+</li>
+<li><a href="#Page_80">Page 80</a>:<br/>
+needn't tell <span class="correction">yon</span>. You know the miserable life I lead. Egad!<br/>
+needn't tell <span class="correction">you</span>. You know the miserable life I lead. Egad!
+</li>
+<li><a href="#Page_82">Page 82</a>:<br/>
+here again, slam it in his face. I have done with him for <span class="correction">ever?</span>&rdquo;<br/>
+here again, slam it in his face. I have done with him for <span class="correction">ever!</span>&rdquo;
+</li>
+<li><a href="#Page_83">Page 83</a>:<br/>
+thimbleful of something. What has frightened <span class="correction">you!</span>&rdquo;<br/>
+thimbleful of something. What has frightened <span class="correction">you?</span>&rdquo;
+</li>
+<li><a href="#Page_91">Page 91</a>:<br/>
+<span class="correction">espectable</span> people; and I know his dodge. He thinks he came<br/>
+<span class="correction">respectable</span> people; and I know his dodge. He thinks he came
+</li>
+<li><a href="#Page_94">Page 94</a>:<br/>
+that party to the <span class="correction">Derby,</span>&rdquo;<br/>
+that party to the <span class="correction">Derby.</span>&rdquo;
+</li>
+<li><a href="#Page_96">Page 96</a>:<br/>
+&ldquo;I believe,&rdquo; said Mr. Longcluse, with a <span class="correction">laugh.</span> &ldquo;I<br/>
+&ldquo;I believe,&rdquo; said Mr. Longcluse, with a <span class="correction">laugh,</span> &ldquo;I
+</li>
+<li><a href="#Page_98">Page 98</a>:<br/>
+&ldquo;Yes, a little, perhaps. Don't <span class="correction">you.</span>&rdquo;<br/>
+&ldquo;Yes, a little, perhaps. Don't <span class="correction">you?</span>&rdquo;
+</li>
+<li><a href="#Page_105">Page 105</a>:<br/>
+world, I'm <span class="correction">thinking'</span>,&rdquo; she answered dolorously.<br/>
+world, I'm <span class="correction">thinking</span>,&rdquo; she answered dolorously.
+</li>
+<li><a href="#Page_108">Page 108</a>:<br/>
+evenins, like this, ye have just a chilly flush o' the <span class="correction">sun'</span> settin',<br/>
+evenins, like this, ye have just a chilly flush o' the <span class="correction">sun</span> settin',
+</li>
+<li><a href="#Page_122">Page 122</a>:<br/>
+and had not this confidence an <span class="correction">unacountable</span> though distant<br/>
+and had not this confidence an <span class="correction">unaccountable</span> though distant
+</li>
+<li><a href="#Page_126">Page 126</a>:<br/>
+&ldquo;Do you know that gentleman's <span class="correction">name!</span>&rdquo;<br/>
+&ldquo;Do you know that gentleman's <span class="correction">name?</span>&rdquo;
+</li>
+<li><a href="#Page_127">Page 127</a>:<br/>
+have been misinformed, you see, as to the <span class="correction">indentity</span> of the person<br/>
+have been misinformed, you see, as to the <span class="correction">identity</span> of the person
+</li>
+<li><a href="#Page_127">Page 127</a>:<br/>
+his tongue; he's a bit rougher, and a <span class="correction">swaggering'</span> cove, and a<br/>
+his tongue; he's a bit rougher, and a <span class="correction">swaggerin'</span> cove, and a
+</li>
+<li><a href="#Page_138">Page 138</a>:<br/>
+and we <em>must</em> drop <span class="correction">him</span> And now, darling, good-bye.&rdquo;<br/>
+and we <em>must</em> drop <span class="correction">him.</span> And now, darling, good-bye.&rdquo;
+</li>
+<li><a href="#Page_142">Page 142</a>:<br/>
+since she had <span class="correction">know</span> him, and his admiration.<br/>
+since she had <span class="correction">known</span> him, and his admiration.
+</li>
+<li><a href="#Page_147">Page 147</a>:<br/>
+<span class="correction">lso</span>; and certainly he saw Vivian Darnley in the drawing-room<br/>
+<span class="correction">also</span>; and certainly he saw Vivian Darnley in the drawing-room
+</li>
+<li><a href="#Page_147">Page 147</a>:<br/>
+<span class="correction">indow</span>, as his cab turned away from the door. With a swelling<br/>
+<span class="correction">window</span>, as his cab turned away from the door. With a swelling
+</li>
+<li><a href="#Page_152">Page 152</a>:<br/>
+and among others a note from Lady <span class="correction">Mary</span> Penrose, reminding<br/>
+and among others a note from Lady <span class="correction">May</span> Penrose, reminding
+</li>
+<li><a href="#Page_154">Page 154</a>:<br/>
+unpleasant. <span class="correction">There</span> were whispered with sneers<br/>
+unpleasant. <span class="correction">These</span> were whispered with sneers
+</li>
+<li><a href="#Page_159">Page 159</a>:<br/>
+and might have thought that, the <span class="correction">muscian</span> having<br/>
+and might have thought that, the <span class="correction">musician</span> having
+</li>
+<li><a href="#Page_162">Page 162</a>:<br/>
+ So over the short grass that handsome girl walked, with <span class="correction">Mr</span><br/>
+ So over the short grass that handsome girl walked, with <span class="correction">Mr.</span>
+</li>
+<li><a href="#Page_170">Page 170</a>:<br/>
+&ldquo;Yes, she was here; she came with Lady <span class="correction">Tramways</span>. They<br/>
+&ldquo;Yes, she was here; she came with Lady <span class="correction">Tramway</span>. They
+</li>
+<li><a href="#Page_177">Page 177</a>:<br/>
+&ldquo;Now, Sir, you'll be so good as <span class="correction">to to</span> observe that you have<br/>
+&ldquo;Now, Sir, you'll be so good as <span class="correction">to</span> observe that you have
+</li>
+<li><a href="#Page_190">Page 190</a>:<br/>
+fingers will trace a name or two on the pages that are <span class="correction">passing</span><br/>
+fingers will trace a name or two on the pages that are <span class="correction">passing.</span>
+</li>
+<li><a href="#Page_191">Page 191</a>:<br/>
+and the <span class="correction">Pharoahs</span> saw it, and we see it to-day. Is it worth while<br/>
+and the <span class="correction">Pharaohs</span> saw it, and we see it to-day. Is it worth while
+</li>
+<li><a href="#Page_192">Page 192</a>:<br/>
+very bald, with coarse, black hair, that might not <span class="correction">unsuitable</span><br/>
+very bald, with coarse, black hair, that might not <span class="correction">unsuitably</span>
+</li>
+<li><a href="#Page_194">Page 194</a>:<br/>
+But not <span class="correction">pays</span> his bets! And how could he? Ten shillings<br/>
+But not <span class="correction">pay</span> his bets! And how could he? Ten shillings
+</li>
+<li><a href="#Page_195">Page 195</a>:<br/>
+and the rest are <span class="correction">rifling</span>, but they were the most impertinent, and<br/>
+and the rest are <span class="correction">trifling</span>, but they were the most impertinent, and
+</li>
+<li><a href="#Page_199">Page 199</a>:<br/>
+eloquence. There was in Cicero's face, he <span class="correction">though</span>, something<br/>
+eloquence. There was in Cicero's face, he <span class="correction">thought</span>, something
+</li>
+<li><a href="#Page_200">Page 200</a>:<br/>
+out unluckily. I have heard that you are again in danger. <span class="correction">I I</span><br/>
+out unluckily. I have heard that you are again in danger. <span class="correction">I</span>
+</li>
+<li><a href="#Page_210">Page 210</a>:<br/>
+you would readily believe, who were, or are, political <span class="correction">refugees.</span><br/>
+you would readily believe, who were, or are, political <span class="correction">refugees.&rdquo;</span>
+</li>
+<li><a href="#Page_210">Page 210</a>:<br/>
+I see you, the remarkable circumstances to which I have but <span class="correction">alluded,</span><br/>
+I see you, the remarkable circumstances to which I have but <span class="correction">alluded.</span>
+</li>
+<li><a href="#Page_214">Page 214</a>:<br/>
+the chase, and<span style="white-space: nowrap;">&mdash;&mdash;</span> Here we are at the <span class="correction">hall-door</span> Don't<br/>
+the chase, and<span style="white-space: nowrap;">&mdash;&mdash;</span> Here we are at the <span class="correction">hall-door.</span> Don't
+</li>
+<li><a href="#Page_215">Page 215</a>:<br/>
+<span class="correction">somehow</span> to ring through her head, he made a very explicit declaration<br/>
+<span class="correction">somehow,</span> to ring through her head, he made a very explicit declaration
+</li>
+<li><a href="#Page_222">Page 222</a>:<br/>
+you,&rdquo; he screamed, dashing his hand on the table, at the <span class="correction">other</span><br/>
+you,&rdquo; he screamed, dashing his hand on the table, at the <span class="correction">other end</span>
+</li>
+<li><a href="#Page_223">Page 223</a>:<br/>
+So spoke Tansey, into whose talk, in moments of <span class="correction">excitement</span><br/>
+So spoke Tansey, into whose talk, in moments of <span class="correction">excitement,</span>
+</li>
+<li><a href="#Page_224">Page 224</a>:<br/>
+&ldquo;No, dear, never mind him&mdash;he's well enough.&rdquo; <span class="correction">David,</span><br/>
+&ldquo;No, dear, never mind him&mdash;he's well enough.&rdquo; <span class="correction">David</span>
+</li>
+<li><a href="#Page_227">Page 227</a>:<br/>
+hanged, &ldquo;losht sheven pound sheventeen, ash <span class="correction">I m</span> a<br/>
+hanged, &ldquo;losht sheven pound sheventeen, ash <span class="correction">I'm</span> a
+</li>
+<li><a href="#Page_227">Page 227</a>:<br/>
+In a very small room, where burned a single jet of gas, <span class="correction">Mr. Mr.</span><br/>
+In a very small room, where burned a single jet of gas, <span class="correction">Mr.</span>
+</li>
+<li><a href="#Page_232">Page 232</a>:<br/>
+CHAPTER <span class="correction">XLVIII</span><br/>
+CHAPTER <span class="correction">XLVIII.</span>
+</li>
+<li><a href="#Page_239">Page 239</a>:<br/>
+in the perennial mourning that belongs <span class="correction">to a</span> gentlemen of his<br/>
+in the perennial mourning that belongs <span class="correction">to</span> gentlemen of his
+</li>
+<li><a href="#Page_240">Page 240</a>:<br/>
+which would corroborate his first vague <span class="correction">suspicions?&rdquo;</span><br/>
+which would corroborate his first vague <span class="correction">suspicions?</span>
+</li>
+<li><a href="#Page_242">Page 242</a>:<br/>
+<span class="correction">let</span> four full-length portraits. Two of these were a lady and<br/>
+<span class="correction">set</span> four full-length portraits. Two of these were a lady and
+</li>
+<li><a href="#Page_242">Page 242</a>:<br/>
+ribbon, and the <span class="correction">gentlemen</span> stood booted for the field, and falcon<br/>
+ribbon, and the <span class="correction">gentleman</span> stood booted for the field, and falcon
+</li>
+<li><a href="#Page_242">Page 242</a>:<br/>
+Plumes is his name&mdash;that says he'll stay <span class="correction">still</span> your Uncle David<br/>
+Plumes is his name&mdash;that says he'll stay <span class="correction">till</span> your Uncle David
+</li>
+<li><a href="#Page_248">Page 248</a>:<br/>
+little <span class="correction">chuch</span>, whose steeple cast its shadow every<br/>
+little <span class="correction">church</span>, whose steeple cast its shadow every
+</li>
+<li><a href="#Page_248">Page 248</a>:<br/>
+Lady May Penrose a note, in the <span class="correction">folowing</span> terms:&mdash;<br/>
+Lady May Penrose a note, in the <span class="correction">following</span> terms:&mdash;
+</li>
+<li><a href="#Page_252">Page 252</a>:<br/>
+the least picturesque <span class="correction">and and</span> most probable way. I should like<br/>
+the least picturesque <span class="correction">and</span> most probable way. I should like
+</li>
+<li><a href="#Page_259">Page 259</a>:<br/>
+look or tone, or air, that gradually <span class="correction">overcome</span> her more and<br/>
+look or tone, or air, that gradually <span class="correction">overcame</span> her more and
+</li>
+<li><a href="#Page_260">Page 260</a>:<br/>
+connected with <span class="correction">Alice?</span> Slowly it passes along. Through<br/>
+connected with <span class="correction">Alice!</span> Slowly it passes along. Through
+</li>
+<li><a href="#Page_278">Page 278</a>:<br/>
+system of check, such as would <span class="correction">made</span> it next to impossible for<br/>
+system of check, such as would <span class="correction">make</span> it next to impossible for
+</li>
+<li><a href="#Page_278">Page 278</a>:<br/>
+Baron <span class="correction">Vanboeren</span><br/>
+Baron <span class="correction">Vanboeren.</span>
+</li>
+<li><a href="#Page_279">Page 279</a>:<br/>
+murdered here in London, was, I <span class="correction">believe</span> in your employment?&rdquo;<br/>
+murdered here in London, was, I <span class="correction">believe,</span> in your employment?&rdquo;
+</li>
+<li><a href="#Page_279">Page 279</a>:<br/>
+&ldquo;I am in London, Sir, ubon my business, and no one else's. <span class="correction">I I</span><br/>
+&ldquo;I am in London, Sir, ubon my business, and no one else's. <span class="correction">I</span>
+</li>
+<li><a href="#Page_281">Page 281</a>:<br/>
+spread, and the monstrous battered felt hat, in which <span class="correction">a a</span> costermonger<br/>
+spread, and the monstrous battered felt hat, in which <span class="correction">a</span> costermonger
+</li>
+<li><a href="#Page_281">Page 281</a>:<br/>
+without in the end contracting <span class="correction">some some</span> incurable insanity; and<br/>
+without in the end contracting <span class="correction">some</span> incurable insanity; and
+</li>
+<li><a href="#Page_283">Page 283</a>:<br/>
+<span class="correction">whther</span> its terrors or its fury may prevail.<br/>
+<span class="correction">whether</span> its terrors or its fury may prevail.
+</li>
+<li><a href="#Page_284">Page 284</a>:<br/>
+Little did she dream that such a gallery <span class="correction">exsited</span>. How were<br/>
+Little did she dream that such a gallery <span class="correction">existed</span>. How were
+</li>
+<li><a href="#Page_290">Page 290</a>:<br/>
+<span class="upper-case">There</span> is something in that pale face and <span class="correction">spectra</span><br/>
+<span class="upper-case">There</span> is something in that pale face and <span class="correction">spectral</span>
+</li>
+<li><a href="#Page_291">Page 291</a>:<br/>
+or where he likes&mdash;I'll stand <span class="correction">t</span>&mdash;and I don't think he'll need<br/>
+or where he likes&mdash;I'll stand <span class="correction">it</span>&mdash;and I don't think he'll need
+</li>
+<li><a href="#Page_293">Page 293</a>:<br/>
+&ldquo;Yes, as <span class="correction">were</span> driving into town to-day, Uncle David told me<br/>
+&ldquo;Yes, as <span class="correction">we were</span> driving into town to-day, Uncle David told me
+</li>
+<li><a href="#Page_298">Page 298</a>:<br/>
+think she would marry me at <span class="correction">all,</span> Isn't it better to say, &lsquo;My<br/>
+think she would marry me at <span class="correction">all.</span> Isn't it better to say, &lsquo;My
+</li>
+<li><a href="#Page_298">Page 298</a>:<br/>
+left a message for his sister with old <span class="correction">Crozier</span> ordered his servant<br/>
+left a message for his sister with old <span class="correction">Crozier,</span> ordered his servant
+</li>
+<li><a href="#Page_302">Page 302</a>:<br/>
+Lonclushe <span class="correction">harmlesh.&rdquo;</span><br/>
+Lonclushe <span class="correction">harmlesh.&rsquo;&rdquo;</span>
+</li>
+<li><a href="#Page_311">Page 311</a>:<br/>
+where she executed an <span class="correction">involuutary</span> frisk that carried her a little<br/>
+where she executed an <span class="correction">involuntary</span> frisk that carried her a little
+</li>
+<li><a href="#Page_312">Page 312</a>:<br/>
+she was staring at the smiling face of the young lady; <span class="correction">you</span><br/>
+she was staring at the smiling face of the young lady; <span class="correction">&ldquo;you</span>
+</li>
+<li><a href="#Page_315">Page 315</a>:<br/>
+<span class="correction">herished</span> for him was gone, and a great disgust was there<br/>
+<span class="correction">cherished</span> for him was gone, and a great disgust was there
+</li>
+<li><a href="#Page_315">Page 315</a>:<br/>
+<span class="correction">nstead</span>.<br/>
+<span class="correction">instead</span>.
+</li>
+<li><a href="#Page_316">Page 316</a>:<br/>
+tears overflow her eyes; and she says in the intervals, <span class="correction">almos</span><br/>
+tears overflow her eyes; and she says in the intervals, <span class="correction">almost</span>
+</li>
+<li><a href="#Page_317">Page 317</a>:<br/>
+reflected the <span class="correction">gray</span> horizon. Vaguely, however, he could see that<br/>
+reflected the <span class="correction">grey</span> horizon. Vaguely, however, he could see that
+</li>
+<li><a href="#Page_317">Page 317</a>:<br/>
+the distant lights, and heard through <span class="correction">the the</span> dim air the chimes,<br/>
+the distant lights, and heard through <span class="correction">the</span> dim air the chimes,
+</li>
+<li><a href="#Page_318">Page 318</a>:<br/>
+all this time towards the <span class="correction">candles</span>: &ldquo;do now, you're sure to see<br/>
+all this time towards the <span class="correction">candles)</span>: &ldquo;do now, you're sure to see
+</li>
+<li><a href="#Page_319">Page 319</a>:<br/>
+<span class="correction">think?</span>&rdquo;<br/>
+<span class="correction">think!</span>&rdquo;
+</li>
+<li><a href="#Page_321">Page 321</a>:<br/>
+<span class="correction">withhish</span> name shined to it. There, now you have everything.&rdquo;<br/>
+<span class="correction">with hish</span> name shined to it. There, now you have everything.&rdquo;
+</li>
+<li><a href="#Page_329">Page 329</a>:<br/>
+friends will <span class="correction">laugh?</span>&rdquo;<br/>
+friends will <span class="correction">laugh!</span>&rdquo;
+</li>
+<li><a href="#Page_333">Page 333</a>:<br/>
+<span class="correction">ou</span> told Miss Alice you'd not be here till to-morrow!&rdquo; she says<br/>
+<span class="correction">you</span> told Miss Alice you'd not be here till to-morrow!&rdquo; she says
+</li>
+<li><a href="#Page_333">Page 333</a>:<br/>
+<span class="correction">ettishly</span>, holding the candle high above her head.<br/>
+<span class="correction">pettishly</span>, holding the candle high above her head.
+</li>
+<li><a href="#Page_338">Page 338</a>:<br/>
+you look ill and unhappy: what's the <span class="correction">matter!</span>&rdquo;<br/>
+you look ill and unhappy: what's the <span class="correction">matter?</span>&rdquo;
+</li>
+<li><a href="#Page_344">Page 344</a>:<br/>
+has polished off a family there a happetite for another up <span class="correction">here</span><br/>
+has polished off a family there a happetite for another up <span class="correction">here.</span>
+</li>
+<li><a href="#Page_344">Page 344</a>:<br/>
+Shir Richard wantsh every door in the 'oushe fasht <span class="correction">locked.</span> and<br/>
+Shir Richard wantsh every door in the 'oushe fasht <span class="correction">locked,</span> and
+</li>
+<li><a href="#Page_347">Page 347</a>:<br/>
+Sir Richard leaned back in the cab as he drove into <span class="correction">town,</span><br/>
+Sir Richard leaned back in the cab as he drove into <span class="correction">town.</span>
+</li>
+<li><a href="#Page_347">Page 347</a>:<br/>
+exploit <span class="correction">that</span> he was at the moment equal to. In Mortlake were<br/>
+exploit <span class="correction">than</span> he was at the moment equal to. In Mortlake were
+</li>
+<li><a href="#Page_360">Page 360</a>:<br/>
+morning. She had been spirited away like the <span class="correction">rest</span><br/>
+morning. She had been spirited away like the <span class="correction">rest.</span>
+</li>
+<li><a href="#Page_362">Page 362</a>:<br/>
+and Sir Richard <span class="correction">lounges</span>, expecting the arrival of David<br/>
+and Sir Richard <span class="correction">lounge</span>, expecting the arrival of David
+</li>
+<li><a href="#Page_368">Page 368</a>:<br/>
+<span class="correction">know</span> that for ten years, and have postponed removing them.<br/>
+<span class="correction">known</span> that for ten years, and have postponed removing them.
+</li>
+<li><a href="#Page_369">Page 369</a>:<br/>
+and yet but slightly. You <span class="correction">wish. perhaps</span> to learn particulars<br/>
+and yet but slightly. You <span class="correction">wish, perhaps,</span> to learn particulars
+</li>
+<li><a href="#Page_370">Page 370</a>:<br/>
+&ldquo;But you talk of bringing me face to face <span class="correction">withthem</span>; how<br/>
+&ldquo;But you talk of bringing me face to face <span class="correction">with them</span>; how
+</li>
+<li><a href="#Page_370">Page 370</a>:<br/>
+&ldquo;No, in <span class="correction">the the</span> solid. Here is the key of the catacombs.&rdquo;<br/>
+&ldquo;No, in <span class="correction">the</span> solid. Here is the key of the catacombs.&rdquo;
+</li>
+<li><a href="#Page_372">Page 372</a>:<br/>
+&ldquo;Bah! what a wise <span class="correction">man</span> Then I may show you whom I<br/>
+&ldquo;Bah! what a wise <span class="correction">man.</span> Then I may show you whom I
+</li>
+<li><a href="#Page_374">Page 374</a>:<br/>
+&ldquo;And <em>is</em> more. Why, count the words, one, two, <span class="correction">four</span> six,<br/>
+&ldquo;And <em>is</em> more. Why, count the words, one, two, <span class="correction">four,</span> six,
+</li>
+<li><a href="#Page_374">Page 374</a>:<br/>
+art, of which perhaps you suspect nothing. Come, <span class="correction">come.</span><br/>
+art, of which perhaps you suspect nothing. Come, <span class="correction">come,</span>
+</li>
+<li><a href="#Page_375">Page 375</a>:<br/>
+<span class="correction">floor</span><br/>
+<span class="correction">floor.</span>
+</li>
+<li><a href="#Page_378">Page 378</a>:<br/>
+ripens round me. But once I take this step, all is up with <span class="correction">that,</span><br/>
+ripens round me. But once I take this step, all is up with <span class="correction">that.</span>
+</li>
+<li><a href="#Page_378">Page 378</a>:<br/>
+You see&mdash;you understand. Bah! you are no fool; it is <span class="correction">plain.</span><br/>
+You see&mdash;you understand. Bah! you are no fool; it is <span class="correction">plain,</span>
+</li>
+<li><a href="#Page_383">Page 383</a>:<br/>
+How it would have fared with him, if he had, I can't <span class="correction">tell.&rdquo;</span><br/>
+How it would have fared with him, if he had, I can't <span class="correction">tell.</span>
+</li>
+<li><a href="#Page_393">Page 393</a>:<br/>
+<span class="correction">CHATPER</span> LXXXIV.<br/>
+<span class="correction">CHAPTER</span> LXXXIV.
+</li>
+<li><a href="#Page_399">Page 399</a>:<br/>
+keys. Never mind; I know it all <span class="correction">know</span>,&rdquo; she whispered, as she<br/>
+keys. Never mind; I know it all <span class="correction">now</span>,&rdquo; she whispered, as she
+</li>
+<li><a href="#Page_403">Page 403</a>:<br/>
+good keepin' me 'ere no <span class="correction">longer</span> I don't want no quarrellin' nor<br/>
+good keepin' me 'ere no <span class="correction">longer.</span> I don't want no quarrellin' nor
+</li>
+<li><a href="#Page_406">Page 406</a>:<br/>
+I've had <em>nothing</em> to do <span class="correction">it</span>. I've never had a hint that she<br/>
+I've had <em>nothing</em> to do <span class="correction">with it</span>. I've never had a hint that she
+</li>
+<li><a href="#Page_413">Page 413</a>:<br/>
+<span class="correction">orged</span> deed. Written across it, in Longcluse's hand, were the<br/>
+<span class="correction">forged</span> deed. Written across it, in Longcluse's hand, were the
+</li>
+<li><a href="#Page_413">Page 413</a>:<br/>
+paper, in <span class="correction">French.</span> published about five months before, upon<br/>
+paper, in <span class="correction">French,</span> published about five months before, upon
+</li>
+<li><a href="#Page_414">Page 414</a>:<br/>
+attended him <span class="correction">though</span> his recovery under the hands of Vanboeren;<br/>
+attended him <span class="correction">through</span> his recovery under the hands of Vanboeren;
+</li>
+</ul>
+</div>
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+<pre>
+
+
+
+
+
+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Checkmate, by Joseph Sheridan Le Fanu
+
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@@ -0,0 +1,19389 @@
+The Project Gutenberg EBook of Checkmate, by Joseph Sheridan Le Fanu
+
+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: Checkmate
+
+Author: Joseph Sheridan Le Fanu
+
+Release Date: January 1, 2012 [EBook #38460]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ASCII
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK CHECKMATE ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Suzanne Shell, Jana Srna and the Online
+Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This
+file was produced from images generously made available
+by The Internet Archive/Canadian Libraries)
+
+
+
+
+
+
+  [ Transcriber's Notes:
+
+    Every effort has been made to replicate this text as faithfully
+    as possible, including inconsistencies in spelling and hyphenation.
+    Some corrections of spelling and punctuation have been made. They
+    are listed at the end of the text.
+
+    Italic text has been marked with _underscores_.
+  ]
+
+
+
+
+CHECKMATE
+
+
+
+
+BY THE SAME AUTHOR
+
+
+  GUY DEVERELL
+  ALL IN THE DARK
+  THE WYVERN MYSTERY
+  THE COCK AND ANCHOR
+  WYLDER'S HAND
+  THE WATCHER
+  CHECKMATE
+  ROSE AND THE KEY
+  TENANTS OF MALLORY
+  WILLING TO DIE
+  GOLDEN FRIARS
+  THE EVIL GUEST
+
+
+
+
+  Checkmate
+
+  BY
+  J. S. LE FANU
+
+  Downey & Co.
+  12 York St.
+  Covent Garden.
+
+
+
+
+CONTENTS.
+
+
+   CHAPTER                                                   PAGE
+
+        I. MORTLAKE HALL,                                       1
+
+       II. MARTHA TANSEY,                                       7
+
+      III. MR. LONGCLUSE OPENS HIS HEART,                      13
+
+       IV. MONSIEUR LEBAS,                                     17
+
+        V. A CATASTROPHE,                                      22
+
+       VI. TO BED,                                             26
+
+      VII. FAST FRIENDS,                                       31
+
+     VIII. CONCERNING A BOOT,                                  38
+
+       IX. THE MAN WITHOUT A NAME,                             43
+
+        X. THE ROYAL OAK,                                      48
+
+       XI. THE TELEGRAM ARRIVES,                               55
+
+      XII. SIR REGINALD ARDEN,                                 62
+
+     XIII. ON THE ROAD,                                        68
+
+      XIV. MR. LONGCLUSE'S BOOT FINDS A TEMPORARY ASYLUM,      72
+
+       XV. FATHER AND SON,                                     79
+
+      XVI. A MIDNIGHT MEETING,                                 84
+
+     XVII. MR. LONGCLUSE AT MORTLAKE HALL,                     91
+
+    XVIII. THE PARTY IN THE DINING-ROOM,                       96
+
+      XIX. IN MRS. TANSEY'S ROOM,                             103
+
+       XX. MRS. TANSEY'S STORY,                               108
+
+      XXI. A WALK BY MOONLIGHT,                               115
+
+     XXII. MR. LONGCLUSE MAKES AN ODD CONFIDENCE,             120
+
+    XXIII. THE MEETING,                                       125
+
+     XXIV. MR. LONGCLUSE FOLLOWS A SHADOW,                    129
+
+      XXV. A TETE-A-TETE,                                     133
+
+     XXVI. THE GARDEN AT MORTLAKE,                            137
+
+    XXVII. WINGED WORDS,                                      141
+
+   XXVIII. STORIES ABOUT MR. LONGCLUSE,                       147
+
+     XXIX. THE GARDEN PARTY,                                  153
+
+      XXX. HE SEES HER,                                       158
+
+     XXXI. ABOUT THE GROUNDS,                                 161
+
+    XXXII. UNDER THE LIME-TREES,                              167
+
+   XXXIII. THE DERBY,                                         171
+
+    XXXIV. A SHARP COLLOQUY,                                  174
+
+     XXXV. DINNER AT MORTLAKE,                                179
+
+    XXXVI. MR. LONGCLUSE SEES A LADY'S NOTE,                  183
+
+   XXXVII. WHAT ALICE COULD SAY,                              188
+
+  XXXVIII. GENTLEMEN IN TROUBLE,                              192
+
+    XXXIX. BETWEEN FRIENDS,                                   196
+
+       XL. AN INTERVIEW IN THE STUDY,                         199
+
+      XLI. VAN APPOINTS HIMSELF TO A DIPLOMATIC POST,         203
+
+     XLII. DIPLOMACY,                                         206
+
+    XLIII. A LETTER AND A SUMMONS,                            209
+
+     XLIV. THE REASON OF ALICE'S NOTE,                        213
+
+      XLV. COLLISION,                                         219
+
+     XLVI. AN UNKNOWN FRIEND,                                 224
+
+    XLVII. BY THE RIVER,                                      229
+
+   XLVIII. SUDDEN NEWS,                                       232
+
+     XLIX. VOWS FOR THE FUTURE,                               236
+
+        L. UNCLE DAVID'S SUSPICIONS,                          239
+
+       LI. THE SILHOUETTE,                                    244
+
+      LII. MR. LONGCLUSE EMPLOYED,                            248
+
+     LIII. THE NIGHT OF THE FUNERAL,                          252
+
+      LIV. AMONG THE TREES,                                   258
+
+       LV. MR. LONGCLUSE SEES A FRIEND,                       262
+
+      LVI. A HOPE EXPIRES,                                    266
+
+     LVII. LEVI'S APOLOGUE,                                   272
+
+    LVIII. THE BARON COMES TO TOWN,                           276
+
+      LIX. TWO OLD FRIENDS MEET AND PART,                     281
+
+       LX. "SAUL,"                                            286
+
+      LXI. A WAKING DREAM,                                    290
+
+     LXII. LOVE AND PLAY,                                     295
+
+    LXIII. PLANS,                                             300
+
+     LXIV. FROM FLOWER TO FLOWER,                             304
+
+      LXV. BEHIND THE ARRAS,                                  311
+
+     LXVI. A BUBBLE BROKEN,                                   313
+
+    LXVII. BOND AND DEED,                                     317
+
+   LXVIII. SIR RICHARD'S RESOLUTION,                          322
+
+     LXIX. THE MEETING,                                       326
+
+      LXX. MR. LONGCLUSE PROPOSES,                            329
+
+     LXXI. NIGHT,                                             332
+
+    LXXII. MEASURES,                                          336
+
+   LXXIII. AT THE BAR OF THE "GUY OF WARWICK,"                341
+
+    LXXIV. A LETTER,                                          346
+
+     LXXV. BLIGHT AND CHANGE,                                 351
+
+    LXXVI. PHOEBE CHIFFINCH,                                  356
+
+   LXXVII. MORE NEWS OF PAUL DAVIES,                          360
+
+  LXXVIII. THE CATACOMBS,                                     364
+
+    LXXIX. RESURRECTIONS,                                     371
+
+     LXXX. ANOTHER,                                           376
+
+    LXXXI. BROKEN,                                            379
+
+   LXXXII. DOPPELGANGER,                                      384
+
+  LXXXIII. A SHORT PARTING,                                   388
+
+   LXXXIV. AT MORTLAKE,                                       393
+
+    LXXXV. THE CRISIS,                                        399
+
+   LXXXVI. PURSUIT,                                           406
+
+  LXXXVII. CONCLUSION,                                        412
+
+
+
+
+CHECKMATE.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER I.
+
+MORTLAKE HALL.
+
+
+There stands about a mile and a half beyond Islington, unless it has
+come down within the last two years, a singular and grand old house. It
+belonged to the family of Arden, once distinguished in the Northumbrian
+counties. About fifty acres of ground, rich with noble clumps and masses
+of old timber, surround it; old-world fish-ponds, with swans sailing
+upon them, tall yew hedges, quincunxes, leaden fauns and goddesses, and
+other obsolete splendours surround it. It rises, tall, florid, built of
+Caen stone, with a palatial flight of steps, and something of the grace
+and dignity of the genius of Inigo Jones, to whom it is ascribed, with
+the shadows of ancestral trees and the stains of two centuries upon it,
+and a vague character of gloom and melancholy, not improved by some
+indications not actually of decay, but of something too like neglect.
+
+It is now evening, and a dusky glow envelopes the scene. The setting sun
+throws its level beams, through tall drawing-room windows, ruddily upon
+the Dutch tapestry on the opposite walls, and not unbecomingly lights up
+the little party assembled there.
+
+Good-natured, fat Lady May Penrose, in her bonnet, sips her tea and
+chats agreeably. Her carriage waits outside. You will ask who is that
+extremely beautiful girl who sits opposite, her large soft grey eyes
+gazing towards the western sky with a look of abstraction, too forgetful
+for a time of her company, leaning upon the slender hand she has placed
+under her cheek. How silken and golden-tinted the dark brown hair that
+grows so near her brows, making her forehead low, and marking with its
+broad line the beautiful oval of her face! Is there carmine anywhere to
+match her brilliant lips? And when, recollecting something to tell Lady
+May, she turns on a sudden, smiling, how soft and pretty the dimples,
+and how even the little row of pearls she discloses!
+
+This is Alice Arden, whose singularly handsome brother Richard, with
+some of her tints and outlines translated into masculine beauty, stands
+leaning on the back of a prie-dieu chair, and chatting gaily.
+
+But who is the thin, tall man--the only sinister figure in the
+group--with one hand in his breast, the other on a cabinet, as he leans
+against the wall? Who is that pale, thin-lipped man, "with cadaverous
+aspect and broken beak," whose eyes never seem to light up, but maintain
+their dismal darkness while his pale lips smile? Those eyes are fixed on
+the pretty face of Alice Arden, as she talks to Lady May, with a
+strangely intense gaze. His eyebrows rise a little, like those of
+Mephistopheles, towards his temples, with an expression that is
+inflexibly sarcastic, and sometimes menacing. His jaw is slightly
+underhung, a formation which heightens the satirical effect of his
+smile, and, by contrast, marks the depression of his nose.
+
+There was at this time in London a Mr. Longcluse, an agreeable man, a
+convenient man, who had got a sort of footing in many houses, nobody
+exactly knew how. He had a knack of obliging people when they really
+wanted a trifling kindness, and another of holding fast his advantage,
+and, without seeming to push, or ever appearing to flatter, of
+maintaining the acquaintance he had once founded. He looked about
+eight-and-thirty: he was really older. He was gentlemanlike, clever, and
+rich; but not a soul of all the men who knew him had ever heard of him
+at school or college. About his birth, parentage, and education, about
+his "life and adventures," he was dark.
+
+How were his smart acquaintance made? Oddly, as we shall learn when we
+know him a little better. It was a great pity that there were some odd
+things said about this very agreeable, obliging, and gentlemanlike
+person. It was a pity that more was not known about him. The man had
+enemies, no doubt, and from the sort of reserve that enveloped him their
+opportunity arose. But were there not about town hundreds of men, well
+enough accepted, about whose early days no one cared a pin, and
+everything was just as dark?
+
+Now Mr. Longcluse, with his pallid face, his flat nose, his sarcastic
+eyebrows, and thin-lipped smile, was overlooking this little company,
+his shoulder leaning against the frame that separated two pieces of the
+pretty Dutch tapestry which covered the walls.
+
+"By-the-bye, Mr. Longcluse--you can tell me, for you always know
+everything," said Lady May--"is there still any hope of that poor
+child's recovering--I mean the one in that dreadful murder in Thames
+Street, where the six poor little children were stabbed?"
+
+Mr. Longcluse smiled.
+
+"I'm so glad, Lady May, I can answer you upon good authority! I stopped
+to-day to ask Sir Edwin Dudley that very question through his carriage
+window, and he said that he had just been to the hospital to see the
+poor little thing, and that it was likely to do well."
+
+"I'm so glad! And what do they say can have been the motive of the
+murder?"
+
+"Jealousy, they say; or else the man is mad."
+
+"I should not wonder. I'm sure I hope he is. But they should take care
+to put him under lock and key."
+
+"So they will, rely on it; that's a matter of course."
+
+"I don't know how it is," continued Lady May, who was garrulous, "that
+murders interest people so much, who ought to be simply shocked at
+them."
+
+"We have a murder in our family, you know," said Richard Arden.
+
+"That was poor Henry Arden--I know," she answered, lowering her voice
+and dropping her eyes, with a side glance at Alice, for she did not know
+how she might like to hear it talked of.
+
+"Oh, that happened when Alice was only five months old, I think," said
+Richard; and slipping into the chair beside Lady May, he laid his hand
+upon hers with a smile, and whispered, leaning towards her--
+
+"You are always so thoughtful; it is _so_ nice of you!"
+
+And this short speech ended, his eyes remained fixed for some seconds,
+with a glow of tender admiration, on those of fat Lady May, who simpered
+with effusion, and did not draw her hand away until she thought she saw
+Mr. Longcluse glance their way.
+
+It was quite true, all he said of Lady May. It would not be easy to find
+a simpler or more good-natured person. She was very rich also, and, it
+was said by people who love news and satire, had long been willing to
+share her gold and other chattels with handsome Richard Arden, who being
+but five-and-twenty, might very nearly have been her son.
+
+"I remember that horrible affair," said Mr. Longcluse, with a little
+shrug and a shake of his head. "Where was I then--Paris or Vienna? Paris
+it was. I recollect it all now, for my purse was stolen by the very man
+who made his escape--Mace was his name; he was a sort of low man on the
+turf, I believe. I was very young then--somewhere about seventeen, I
+think."
+
+"You can't have been more, of course," said good-natured Lady May.
+
+"I should like very much some time to hear all about it," continued Mr.
+Longcluse.
+
+"So you shall," said Richard, "whenever you like."
+
+"Every old family has a murder, and a ghost, and a beauty also, though
+she does not always live and breathe, except in the canvas of Lely, or
+Kneller, or Reynolds: and they, you know, had roses and lilies to give
+away at discretion, in their paint-boxes, and were courtiers," remarked
+Mr. Longcluse, "who dealt sometimes in the old-fashioned business of
+making compliments. _I_ say happy the man who lives in those summers
+when the loveliness of some beautiful family culminates, and who may, at
+ever such a distance, gaze and worship."
+
+This ugly man spoke in a low tone, and his voice was rather sweet. He
+looked as he spoke at Miss Arden, from whom, indeed, his eyes did not
+often wander.
+
+"Very prettily said!" applauded Lady May affably.
+
+"I forgot to ask you, Lady May," inquired Alice, cruelly, at this
+moment, "how the pretty little Italian greyhound is that was so
+ill--better, I hope."
+
+"Ever so much--quite well almost. I'd have taken him out for a drive
+to-day, poor dear little Pepsie! but that I thought the sun just a
+little overpowering. Didn't you?"
+
+"Perhaps a little."
+
+Mr. Longcluse lowered his eyes as he leaned against the wall and sighed,
+with a pained smile, that even upon his plain, pallid face, was
+pathetic.
+
+Did proud Richard Arden perceive the devotion of the dubious
+Longcluse--undefined in position, in history, in origin, in character,
+in all things but in wealth? Of course he did, perfectly. But that
+wealth was said to be enormous. There were Jews, who ought to know, who
+said he was worth one million eight hundred thousand pounds, and that
+his annual income was considerably more than a hundred thousand pounds a
+year.
+
+Was a man like that to be dismissed without inquiry? Had he not found
+him good-natured and gentlemanlike? What about those stories circulated
+among Jews and croupiers? Enemies might affect to believe them, and
+quote the old saw, "There is never smoke without fire;" but dare one of
+them utter a word of the kind aloud? Did they stand the test of five
+minutes' inquiry, such even as he had given them? Had he found a
+particle of proof, of evidence, of suspicion? Not a spark. What man had
+ever escaped stories who was worth forging a lie about?
+
+Here was a man worth more than a million. Why, if _he_ let him slip
+through his fingers, some duchess would pounce on him for her daughter.
+
+It was well that Longcluse was really in love--well, perhaps, that he
+did not appreciate the social omnipotence of money.
+
+"Where is Sir Reginald at present?" asked Lady May.
+
+"Not here, you may be sure," answered Richard. "My father does not admit
+my visits, you know."
+
+"Really! And is that miserable quarrel kept up still?"
+
+"Only too true. He is in France at present; at Vichy--ain't it Vichy?"
+he said to Alice.
+
+But she, not choosing to talk, said simply, "Yes--Vichy."
+
+"I'm going to take Alice into town again; she has promised to stay with
+me a little longer. And I think you neglect her a little, don't you? You
+ought to come and see her a little oftener," pleaded Lady May, in an
+undertone.
+
+"I only feared I was boring you all. Nothing, _you_ know, would give me
+half so much pleasure," he answered.
+
+"Well, then, she'll expect your visits, mind."
+
+A little silence followed. Richard was vexed with his sister; she was,
+he thought, snubbing his friend Longcluse.
+
+Well, when once he had spoken his mind and disclosed his treasures,
+Richard flattered himself he had some influence; and did not Lady May
+swear by Mr. Longcluse? And was his father, the most despotic and
+violent of baronets, and very much dipt, likely to listen to sentimental
+twaddle pleading against a hundred thousand a year? So, Miss Alice, if
+you were disposed to talk nonsense, it was not very likely to be
+listened to, and sharp and short logic might ensue.
+
+How utterly unconscious of all this she sits there, thinking, I daresay,
+of quite another person!
+
+Mr. Longcluse was also for a moment in profound reverie; so was Richard
+Arden. The secrecy of thought is a pleasant privilege to the
+thinker--perhaps hardly less a boon to the person pondered upon.
+
+If each man's forehead could project its shadows and the light of his
+spirit shine through, and the confluence of figures and phantoms that
+cross and march behind it become visible, how that magic-lantern might
+appal good easy people!
+
+And now the ladies fell to talking and comparing notes about their
+guipure lacework.
+
+"How charming yours looks, my dear, round that little table!" exclaimed
+Lady May in a rapture. "I'm sure I hope mine may turn out half as
+pretty. I wanted to compare; I'm not quite sure whether it is exactly
+the same pattern."
+
+And so on, until it was time for them to order their wings for town.
+
+The gentlemen have business of their own to transact, or pleasures to
+pursue. Mr. Longcluse has his trap there, to carry them into town when
+their hour comes. They can only put the ladies into their places, and
+bid them good-bye, and exchange parting reminders and good-natured
+speeches.
+
+Pale Mr. Longcluse, as he stands on the steps, looks with his dark eyes
+after the disappearing carriage, and sighs deeply. He has forgotten all
+for the moment but one dream. Richard Arden wakens him, by laying his
+hand on his shoulder.
+
+"Come, Longcluse, let us have a cigar in the billiard-room, and a talk.
+I have a box of Manillas that I think you will say are delicious--that
+is, if you like them full-flavoured."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER II.
+
+MARTHA TANSEY.
+
+
+"By-the-bye, Longcluse," said Richard, as they entered together the long
+tiled passage that leads to the billiard-room, "you like pictures. There
+is one here, banished to the housekeeper's room, that they say is a
+Vandyck; we must have it cleaned and backed, and restored to its old
+place--but would you care to look at it?"
+
+"Certainly, I should like extremely," said Mr. Longcluse.
+
+They were now at the door of the housekeeper's room, and Richard Arden
+knocked.
+
+"Come in," said the quavering voice of the old woman from within.
+
+Richard Arden opened the door wide. The misty rose-coloured light of the
+setting sun filled the room. From the wall right opposite, the pale
+portrait of Sir Thomas Arden, who fought for the king during the great
+Civil War, looked forth from his deep dingy frame full upon them, stern
+and melancholy; the misty beams touching the softer lights of his long
+hair and the gleam of his armour so happily, that the figure came out
+from its dark background, and seemed ready to step forth to meet them.
+As it happened, there was no one in the room but old Mrs. Tansey, the
+housekeeper, who received Richard Arden standing.
+
+From the threshold, Mr. Longcluse, lost in wonder at the noble picture,
+gazed on it, with the exclamation, almost a cry, "Good heaven! what a
+noble work! I had no idea there could be such a thing in existence and
+so little known." And he stood for awhile in a rapture, gazing from the
+threshold on the portrait.
+
+At sound of that voice, with a vague and terrible recognition, the
+housekeeper turned with a start towards the door, expecting, you'd have
+fancied from her face, the entrance of a ghost. There was a tremble in
+the voice with which she cried, "Lord! what's that?" a tremble in the
+hand extended towards the door, and a shake also in the pale frowning
+face, from which shone her glassy eyes.
+
+Mr. Longcluse stepped in, and the old woman's gaze became, as he did so,
+more shrinking and intense. When he saw her he recoiled, as a man might
+who had all but trod upon a snake; and these two people gazed at one
+another with a strange, uncertain scowl.
+
+In Mr. Longcluse's case, this dismal caprice of countenance did not last
+beyond a second or two. Richard Arden, as he turned his eyes from the
+picture to say a word to his companion, saw it for a moment, and it
+faded from his features--saw it, and the darkened countenance of the old
+housekeeper, with a momentary shock. He glanced from one to the other
+quickly, with a look of unconscious surprise. That look instantly
+recalled Mr. Longcluse, who, laying his hand on Richard Arden's arm,
+said, with a laugh--"I do believe I'm the most nervous man in the
+world."
+
+"You don't find the room too hot?" said Richard, inwardly ruminating
+upon the strange looks he had just seen exchanged. "Mrs. Tansey keeps a
+fire all the year round--don't you, Martha?"
+
+Martha did not answer, nor seem to hear; she pressed her lean hand,
+instead, to her heart, and drew back to a sofa and sat down, muttering,
+"My God, lighten our darkness, we beseech thee!" and she looked as if
+she were on the point of fainting.
+
+"That is a true Vandyck," said Mr. Longcluse, who was now again looking
+stedfastly at the picture. "It deserves to rank among his finest
+portraits. I have never seen anything of his more forcible. You really
+ought not to leave it here, and in this state." He walked over and
+raised the lower end of the frame gently from the wall. "Yes, just as
+you said, it wants to be backed. That portrait would not stand a shake,
+I can tell you. The canvas is perfectly rotten, and the paint--if you
+stand here you'll see--is ready to flake off. It is an awful pity. You
+shouldn't leave it in such danger."
+
+"No," said Richard, who was looking at the old woman. "I don't think
+Martha's well--will you excuse me for a moment?" And he was at the
+housekeeper's side. "What's the matter, Martha?" he said kindly. "Are
+you ill?"
+
+"Very bad, Sir. I beg your pardon for sitting, but I could not help; and
+the gentleman will excuse me."
+
+"Of course--but what's the matter?" said Richard.
+
+"A sudden fright like, Sir. I'm all over on a tremble," she quavered.
+
+"See how exquisitely that hand is painted," continued Mr. Longcluse,
+pursuing his criticism, "and the art with which the lights are managed.
+It is a wonderful picture. It makes one positively angry to see it in
+that state, and anywhere but in the most conspicuous and honourable
+place. If I owned that picture, I should never be tired showing it. I
+should have it where everyone who came into my house should see it; and
+I should watch every crack and blur on its surface, as I should the
+symptoms of a dying child, or the looks of the mistress of my heart. Now
+just look at this. Where is he? Oh!"
+
+"I beg your pardon, a thousand times, but I find my old friend Martha
+feels a little faint and ill," said Richard.
+
+"Dear me! I hope she's better," said Mr. Longcluse, approaching with
+solicitude. "Can I be of any use? Shall I touch the bell?"
+
+"I'm better, Sir, I thank you; I'm much better," said the old woman. "It
+won't signify nothing, only--" She was looking hard again at Mr.
+Longcluse, who now seemed perfectly at his ease, and showed in his
+countenance nothing but the commiseration befitting the occasion. "A
+sort of a weakness--a fright like--and I can't think, quite, what came
+over me."
+
+"Don't you think a glass of wine might do her good?" asked Mr.
+Longcluse.
+
+"Thanks, Sir, I don't drink it. Oh, lighten our darkness, we beseech
+thee! Good Lord, a' mercy on us! I take them drops, hartshorn and
+valerian, on a little water, when I feel nervous like. I don't know when
+I was took wi' t' creepins before."
+
+"You look better," said Richard.
+
+"I'm quite right again, Sir," she said, with a sigh. She had taken her
+"drops," and seemed restored.
+
+"Hadn't you better have one of the maids with you? I'm going now; I'll
+send some one," he said. "You must get all right, Martha. It pains me to
+see you ill. You're a very old friend, remember. You must be all right
+again; and, if you like, we'll have the doctor out, from town."
+
+He said this, holding her thin old hand very kindly, for he was by no
+means without good-nature. So sending the promised attendant, he and
+Longcluse proceeded to the billiard-room, where, having got the lamps
+lighted, they began to enjoy their smoke. Each, I fancy, was thinking of
+the little incident in the housekeeper's room. There was a long silence.
+
+"Poor old Tansey! She looked awfully ill," said Richard Arden at last.
+
+"By Jove! she did. Is that her name? She rather frightened me," said Mr.
+Longcluse. "I thought we had stumbled on a mad woman--she stared so. Has
+she ever had any kind of fit, poor thing?"
+
+"No. She grumbles a good deal, but I really think she's a healthy old
+woman enough. She says she was frightened."
+
+"We came in too suddenly, perhaps?"
+
+"No, that wasn't it, for I knocked first," said Arden.
+
+"Ah, yes, so you did. I only know she frightened me. I really thought
+she was out of her mind, and that she was going to stick me with a
+knife, perhaps," said Mr. Longcluse, with a little laugh and a shrug.
+
+Arden laughed, and puffed away at his cigar till he had it in a glow
+again. Was this explanation of what he had seen in Longcluse's
+countenance--a picture presented but for a fraction of a second, but
+thenceforward ineffaceable--quite satisfactory?
+
+In a short time Mr. Longcluse asked whether he could have a little
+brandy and water, which accordingly was furnished. In his first glass
+there was a great deal of brandy, and very little water indeed; and his
+second, sipped more at his leisure, was but little more diluted. A very
+faint flush tinged his pallid cheeks.
+
+Richard Arden was, by this time, thinking of his own debts and ill-luck,
+and at last he said, "I wonder what the art of getting on in the world
+is. Is it communicable? or is it no art at all, but a simple run of
+luck?"
+
+Mr. Longcluse smiled scornfully. "There are men who have immense faith
+in themselves," said he, "who have indomitable will, and who are
+provided with craft and pliancy for any situation. Those men are giants
+from the first to the last hour of action, unless, as happened to
+Napoleon, success enervates them. In the cradle, they strangle serpents;
+blind, they pull down palaces; old as Dandolo, they burn fleets and
+capture cities. It is only when they have taken to bragging that the
+_lues Napoleonica_ has set in. Now I have been, in a sense, a successful
+man--I am worth some money. If I were the sort of man I describe, I
+should be worth, if I cared for it, ten times what I have in as many
+years. But I don't care to confess I made my money by flukes. If, having
+no tenderness, you have two attributes--profound cunning and perfect
+audacity--nothing can keep you back. I'm a common-place man, I say; but
+I know what constitutes power. Life is a battle, and the general's
+qualities win."
+
+"I have not got the general's qualities, I think; and I know I haven't
+luck," said Arden; "so for my part I may as well drift, with as little
+trouble as may be, wherever the current drives. Happiness is not for all
+men."
+
+"Happiness is for _no_ man," said Mr. Longcluse. And a little silence
+followed. "Now suppose a fellow has got more money than ever he dreamed
+of," he resumed, "and finds money, after all, not quite what he fancied,
+and that he has come to long for a prize quite distinct and infinitely
+more precious; so that he finds, at last, that he never can be happy for
+an hour without it, and yet, for all his longing and his pains, sees it
+is unattainable as that star." (He pointed to a planet that shone down
+through the skylight.) "Is that man happy? He carries with him, go where
+he may, an aching heart, the pangs of jealousy and despair, and the
+longing of the damned for Paradise. That is _my_ miserable case."
+
+Richard Arden laughed, as he lighted his second cigar.
+
+"Well, if that's your case, you can't be one of those giants you
+described just now. Women are not the obdurate and cruel creatures you
+fancy. They are proud, and vain, and unforgiving; but the misery and the
+perseverance of a lover constitute a worship that first flatters and
+then wins them. Remember this, a woman finds it very hard to give up a
+worshipper, except for another. Now why should you despair? You are a
+gentleman, you are a clever fellow, an agreeable fellow; you are what is
+accounted a young man still, and you can make your wife rich. They all
+like that. It is not avarice, but pride. I don't know the young lady,
+but I see no good reason why you should fail."
+
+"I wish, Arden, I dare tell you all; but some day I'll tell you more."
+
+"The only thing is---- You'll not mind my telling you, as you have been
+so frank with me?"
+
+"Pray say whatever you think. I shall be ever so much obliged. I forget
+so many things about English manners and ways of thinking--I have lived
+so very much abroad. Should I be put up for a club?"
+
+"Well, I should not mind a club just yet, till you know more
+people--quite time enough. But you must manage better. Why should those
+Jew fellows, and other people, who don't hold, and never can, a position
+the least like yours, be among your acquaintance? You must make it a
+rule to drop all objectionable persons, and know none but good people.
+Of course, when you are strong enough it doesn't so much matter,
+provided you keep them at arm's length. But you passed your younger days
+abroad, as you say, and not being yet so well known here, you will have
+to be particular--don't you see? A man is so much judged by his
+acquaintance; and, in fact, it is essential."
+
+"A thousand thanks for any hints that strike you," said Longcluse
+good-humouredly.
+
+"They sound frivolous; but these trifles have immense weight with
+women," said Arden. "By Jove!" he added, glancing at his watch, "we
+shall be late. Your trap is at the door--suppose we go?"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER III.
+
+MR. LONGCLUSE OPENS HIS HEART.
+
+
+The old housekeeper had drawn near her window, and stood close to the
+pane, through which she looked out upon the star-lit night. The stars
+shine down over the foliage of huge old trees. Dim as shadows stand the
+horse and tax-cart that await Mr. Longcluse and Richard Arden, who now
+at length appear. The groom fixes the lamps, one of which shines full on
+Mr. Longcluse's peculiar face.
+
+"Ay--the voice; I could a' sworn to that," she muttered. "It went
+through me like a scythe. But that's a strange face; and yet there's
+summat in it, just a hint like, to call my thoughts out a-seeking up and
+down, and to and fro; and 'twill not let me rest until I come to find
+the truth. Mace? No, no. Langly? Not he. Yet 'twas summat _that night_,
+I think--summat awful. And who _was_ there? No one. Lighten our
+darkness, we beseech thee, O Lord! for my heart is sore troubled."
+
+Up jumped the groom. Mr. Longcluse had the reins in his hand, and he and
+his companion passed swiftly by the window, and the flash of the lamps
+crossed the panelled walls of the housekeeper's room. The light danced
+wildly from corner to corner of the wainscot, accompanied by the shadows
+of two geraniums in bow-pots on the window-stool. The lamps flew by, and
+she still stood there, with the palsied shake of her head and hand,
+looking out into the darkness, in rumination.
+
+Arden and Longcluse glided through the night air in silence, under the
+mighty old trees that had witnessed generations of Ardens, down the
+darker, narrow road, and by the faded old inn, once famous in those
+regions as the "Guy of Warwick," representing still on its board, in
+tarnished gold and colours, that redoubted champion, with a boar's head
+on the point of his sword, and a grotesque lion winding itself fawningly
+about his horse's legs.
+
+As they passed swiftly along this smooth and deserted road, Longcluse
+spoke. _Aperit praecordia vinum._ In his brandy and water he had not
+spared alcohol, and the quantity was considerable.
+
+"I have lots of money, Arden, and I can talk to people, as you say," he
+suddenly said, as if Richard Arden had spoken but a moment before; "but,
+on the whole, is there on earth a more miserable dog than I? There are
+things that trouble me that would make you laugh; there are others that
+would, if I dare tell them, make you sigh. Soon I shall be able; soon
+you shall know all. I'm not a bad fellow. I know how to give away money,
+and, what is harder to bestow on others, my time and labour. But who to
+look at me would believe it? I'm not a worse fellow than Penruddock. I
+can cry for pity and do a kind act like him; but I look in my glass, and
+I also feel like him, 'the mark of Cain' is on me--cruelty in my face.
+Why should Nature write on some men's faces such libels on their
+characters? Then here's another thing to make you laugh--you, a handsome
+fellow, to whom beauty belongs, I say, by right of birth--it would make
+me laugh also if I were not, as I am, forced every hour I live to count
+up, in agonies of hope and terror, my chances in that enterprise in
+which all my happiness for life is staked so wildly. Common ugliness
+does not matter, it is got over. But such a face as mine! Come, come!
+you are too good-natured to say. I'm not asking for consolation; I am
+only summing up my curses."
+
+"You make too much of these. Lady May thinks your face, she says, very
+interesting--upon my honour, she does."
+
+"Oh, heaven!" exclaimed Mr. Longcluse, with a shrug and a laugh.
+
+"And what is more to the purpose (will you forgive my reporting all
+this--you won't mind?), some young lady friends of hers who were by
+said, I assure you, that you had so much expression, and that your
+features were extremely refined."
+
+"It won't do, Arden; you are too good-natured," said he, laughing more
+bitterly.
+
+"I should much rather be as I am, if I were you, than be gifted with
+vulgar beauty--plump, pink and white, with black beady eyes, and all
+that," said Arden.
+
+"But the heaviest curse upon me is that which, perhaps, you do not
+suspect--the curse of--secrecy."
+
+"Oh, really!" said Arden, laughing, as if he had thought up to then that
+Mr. Longcluse's history was as well known as that of the ex-Emperor
+Napoleon.
+
+"I don't say that I shall come out like the enchanted hero in a fairy
+tale, and change in a moment from a beast into a prince; but I am
+something better than I seem. In a short time, if you cared to be bored
+with it, I shall have a great deal to tell you."
+
+There followed here a silence of two or three minutes, and then, on a
+sudden, pathetically, Mr. Longcluse broke forth--
+
+"What has a fellow like me to do with love? and less than beloved, can I
+ever be happy? I know something of the world--not of this London world,
+where I live less than I seem to do, and into which I came too late ever
+to understand it thoroughly--I know something of a greater world, and
+human nature is the same everywhere. You talk of a girl's pride inducing
+her to marry a man for the sake of his riches. Could I possess my
+beloved on those terms? I would rather place a pistol in my mouth, and
+blow my skull off. Arden, I'm unhappy; I'm the most miserable dog
+alive."
+
+"Come, Longcluse, that's all nonsense. Beauty is no advantage to a man.
+The being agreeable is an immense one. But success is what women
+worship, and if, in addition to that, you possess wealth--not, as I
+said, that they are sordid, but only vain-glorious--you become very
+nearly irresistible. Now _you_ are agreeable, successful and
+wealthy--you must see what follows."
+
+"I'm out of spirits," said Longcluse, and relapsed into silence, with a
+great sigh.
+
+By this time they had got within the lamps, and were threading streets,
+and rapidly approaching their destination. Five minutes more, and these
+gentlemen had entered a vast room, in the centre of which stood a
+billiard-table, with benches rising tier above tier to the walls, and a
+gallery running round the building above them, brilliantly lighted, as
+such places are, and already crowded with all kinds of people. There is
+going to be a great match of a "thousand up" played between Bill Hood
+and Bob Markham. The betting has been unusually high; it is still going
+on. The play won't begin for nearly half an hour. The "admirers of the
+game" have mustered in great force and variety. There are young peers,
+with sixty thousand a year, and there are gentlemen who live by their
+billiards. There are, for once in a way, grave persons, bankers, and
+counsel learned in the law; there are Jews and a sprinkling of
+foreigners; and there are members of Parliament and members of the swell
+mob.
+
+Mr. Longcluse has a good deal to think about this night. He _is_ out of
+spirits. Richard Arden is no longer with him, having picked up a friend
+or two in the room. Longcluse, with folded arms, and his shoulders
+against the wall, is in a profound reverie, his dark eyes for the time
+lowered to the floor, beside the point of his French boot. _There_
+unfold themselves beneath him picture after picture, the scenes of many
+a year ago. Looking down, there creeps over him an old horror, a
+supernatural disgust, and he sees in the dark a pair of wide, white
+eyes, staring up at him in an agony of terror, and a shrill yell,
+piercing a distance of many years, makes him shake his ears with a
+sudden chill. Is this the witches' Sabbath of our pale Mephistopheles--his
+night of goblins? He raised his eyes, and they met those of a person
+whom he had not seen for a very long time--a third part of his whole
+life. The two pairs of eyes, at nearly half across the room, have met,
+and for a moment fixed. The stranger smiles and nods. Mr. Longcluse does
+neither. He affects now to be looking over the stranger's shoulder at
+some more distant object. There is a strange chill and commotion at his
+heart.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IV.
+
+MONSIEUR LEBAS.
+
+
+Mr. Longcluse leaned still with folded arms, and his shoulder to the
+wall. The stranger, smiling and fussy, was making his way to him. There
+is nothing in this man's appearance to associate him with tragic
+incident or emotion of any kind. He is plainly a foreigner. He is short,
+fat, middle-aged, with a round fat face, radiant with good humour and
+good-natured enjoyment. His dress is cut in the somewhat grotesque style
+of a low French tailor. It is not very new, and has some spots of grease
+upon it. Mr. Longcluse perceives that he is now making his way towards
+him. Longcluse for a moment thought of making his escape by the door,
+which was close to him; but he reflected, "He is about the most innocent
+and good-natured soul on earth, and why should I seem to avoid him?
+Better, if he's looking for me, to let him find me, and say his say." So
+Longcluse looked another way, his arms still folded, and his shoulders
+against the wall as before.
+
+"Ah, ha! Monsieur is thinking profoundly," said a gay voice in French.
+"Ah, ha, ha, ha! you are surprised, Sir, to see me here. So am I, my
+faith! I saw you. I never forget a face."
+
+"Nor a friend, Lebas. Who could have imagined anything to bring you to
+London?" answered Longcluse, in the same language, shaking him warmly by
+the hand, and smiling down on the little man. "I shall never forget your
+kindness. I think I should have died in that _illness_ but for you. How
+can I ever thank you half enough?"
+
+"And the grand secret--the political difficulty--Monsieur found it well
+evaded," he said, mysteriously touching his upper lip with two fingers.
+
+"Not all quiet yet. I suppose you thought I was in Vienna?"
+
+"Eh? well, yes--so I did," answered Lebas, with a shrug. "But perhaps
+you think this place safer."
+
+"Hush! You'll come to me to-morrow. I'll tell you where to find me
+before we part, and you'll bring your portmanteau and stay with me while
+you remain in London, and the longer the better."
+
+"Monsieur is too kind, a great deal; but I am staying for my visit to
+London with my brother-in-law, Gabriel Laroque, the watchmaker. He lives
+on the Hill of Ludgate, and he would be offended if I were to reside
+anywhere but in his house while I stay. But if Monsieur would be so good
+as to permit me to call----"
+
+"You must come and dine with me to-morrow; I have a box for the opera.
+You love music, or you are not the Pierre Lebas whom I remember sitting
+with his violin at an open window. So come early, come before six; I
+have ever so much to ask you. And what has brought you to London?"
+
+"A very little business and a great deal of pleasure; but all in a
+week," said the little man, with a shrug and a hearty laugh. "I have
+come over here about some little things like that." He smiled archly as
+he produced from his waistcoat pocket a little flat box with a glass
+top, and shook something in it. "Commerce, you see. I have to see two or
+three more of the London people, and then my business will have
+terminated, and nothing remain for the rest of the week but
+pleasure--ha, ha!"
+
+"You left all at home well, I hope--children?" He was going to say
+"Madame," but a good many years had passed.
+
+"I have seven children. Monsieur will remember two. Three are by my
+first marriage, four by my second, and all enjoy the very best health.
+Three are very young--three, two, one year old; and they say a fourth is
+not impossible very soon," he added archly.
+
+Longcluse laughed kindly, and laid his hand upon his shoulder.
+
+"You must take charge of a little present for each from me, and one for
+Madame. And the old business still flourishes?"
+
+"A thousand thanks! yes, the business is the same--the file, the chisel,
+and knife." And he made a corresponding movement of his hand as he
+mentioned each instrument.
+
+"_Hush!_" said Longcluse, smiling, so that no one who did not hear him
+would have supposed there was so much cautious emphasis in the word. "My
+good friend, remember there are details we talk of, you and I together,
+that are not to be mentioned so suitably in a place like this," and he
+pressed his hand on his wrist, and shook it gently.
+
+"A thousand pardons! I am, I know, too careless, and let my tongue too
+often run before my caution. My wife, she says, 'You can't wash your
+shirt but you must tell the world.' It is my weakness truly. She is a
+woman of extraordinary penetration."
+
+Mr. Longcluse glanced from the corners of his eyes about the room.
+Perhaps he wished to ascertain whether his talk with this man, whom you
+would have taken to be little above the level of a French mechanic, had
+excited anyone's attention. But there was nothing to make him think so.
+
+"Now, Pierre, my friend, you must win some money upon this match--do you
+see? And you won't deny me the pleasure of putting down your stake for
+you; and, if you win, you shall buy something pretty for Madame--and,
+win or lose, I shall think it friendly of you after so many years, and
+like you the better."
+
+"Monsieur is too good," he said with effusion.
+
+"Now look. Do you see that fat Jew over there on the front bench--you
+can't mistake him--with the velvet waistcoat all in wrinkles, and the
+enormous lips, who talks to every second person who passes?"
+
+"I see perfectly, Monsieur."
+
+"He is betting three to one upon Markham. You must take his offer, and
+back Hood. I'm told _he'll_ win. Here are ten pounds, you may as well
+make them thirty. Don't say a word. Our English custom is to _tip_, as
+we say, our friend's sons at school, and to make presents to everybody,
+as often as we like. Now there--not a word." He quietly slipped into his
+hand a little rouleau of ten pounds in gold. "If you say one word you
+wound me," he continued. "But, good Heaven! my dear friend, haven't you
+a breast-pocket?"
+
+"No, Monsieur; but this is quite safe. I was paid, only five minutes
+before I came here, fifteen pounds in gold, a cheque of forty-four
+pounds, and----"
+
+"Be silent. You may be overheard. Speak here in a very low tone, as I
+do. And do you mean to tell me that you carry all that money in your
+coat pocket?"
+
+"But in a pocket-book, Monsieur."
+
+"All the more convenient for the _chevalier d'industrie_," said
+Longcluse. "Stop. Pray don't produce it; your fate is, perhaps, sealed
+if you do. There are gentlemen in this room who would hustle and rob you
+in the crowd as you get out; or, failing that, who, seeing that you are
+a stranger, would follow and murder you in the streets, for the sake of
+a twentieth part of that sum."
+
+"Gabriel thought there would be none here but men distinguished," said
+Lebas, in some consternation.
+
+"Distinguished by the special attention of the police, some of them,"
+said Longcluse.
+
+"He! that is very true," said Monsieur Lebas--"very true, I am sure of
+it. See you that man there, Monsieur? Regard him for a moment. The tall
+man, who leans with his shoulder to the metal pillar of the gallery. My
+faith! he has observed my steps and followed me. I thought he was a spy.
+But my friend he says 'No, that is a man of bad character, dismissed for
+bad practices from the police.' Aha! he has watched me sideways, with
+the corner of his eye. I will watch him with the corner of mine--ha,
+ha!"
+
+"It proves, at all events, Lebas, that there are people here other than
+gentlemen and men of honest lives," said Longcluse.
+
+"But," said Lebas, brightening a little, "I have this weapon," producing
+a dagger from the same pocket.
+
+"Put it back this instant. Worse and worse, my good friend. Don't you
+know that just now there is a police activity respecting foreigners, and
+that two have been arrested only yesterday on no charge but that of
+having weapons about their persons? I don't know what the devil you had
+best do."
+
+"I can return to the Hill of Ludgate--eh?"
+
+"Pity to lose the game; they won't let you back again," said Longcluse.
+
+"What shall I do?" said Lebas, keeping his hand now in his pocket on his
+treasure.
+
+Longcluse rubbed the tip of his finger a little over his eyebrow,
+thinking.
+
+"Listen to me," said Longcluse, suddenly. "Is your brother-in-law here?"
+
+"No, Monsieur."
+
+"Well, you have some London friend in the room, haven't you?"
+
+"One--yes."
+
+"Only be sure he is one whom you can trust, and who has a safe pocket."
+
+"Oh, yes, Monsieur, entirely! and I saw him place his purse so," he
+said, touching his coat, over his heart, with his fingers.
+
+"Well, now, you can't manage it here, under the gaze of the people;
+but--_where_ is best? Yes--you see those two doors at opposite sides in
+the wall, at the far end of the room? They open into two parallel
+corridors leading to the hall, and a little way down there is a cross
+passage, in the middle of which is a door opening into a smoking-room.
+That room will be deserted now, and there, unseen, you can place your
+money and dagger in his charge."
+
+"Ah, thank you a hundred thousand times, Monsieur!" answered Lebas. "I
+shall be writing to the Baron van Boeren to-morrow, and I will tell him
+I have met Monsieur."
+
+"Don't mind; how is the baron?" asked Longcluse.
+
+"Very well. Beginning to be not so young, you know, and thinking of
+retiring. I will tell him his work has succeeded. If he demolishes, he
+also secures. If he sometimes sheds blood----"
+
+"_Hush!_" whispered Longcluse, sternly.
+
+"There is no one," murmured little Lebas, looking round, but dropping
+his voice to a whisper. "He also saves a neck sometimes from the blade
+of the guillotine."
+
+Longcluse frowned, a little embarrassed. Lebas smiled archly. In a
+moment Longcluse's impatient frown broke into a mysterious smile that
+responded.
+
+"May I say one word more, and make one request of Monsieur, which I hope
+he will not think very impertinent?" asked Monsieur Lebas, who had just
+been on the point of taking his leave.
+
+"It mayn't be in my power to grant it; but you can't be what you say--I
+am too much obliged to you--so speak quite freely," said Longcluse.
+
+So they talked a little more and parted, and Monsieur Lebas went on his
+way.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER V.
+
+A CATASTROPHE.
+
+
+The play has commenced. Longcluse, who likes and understands the game,
+sitting beside Richard Arden, is all eye. He is intensely eager and
+delighted. He joins modestly in the clapping that now and then follows a
+stroke of extraordinary brilliancy. Now and then he whispers a criticism
+in Arden's ear. There are many vicissitudes in the game. The players
+have entered on the third hundred, and still "doubtful it stood." The
+excitement is extraordinary. The assembly is as hushed as if it were
+listening to a sermon, and, I am afraid, more attentive. Now, on a
+sudden, Hood scores a hundred and sixty-eight points in a single break.
+A burst of prolonged applause follows, and, during the clapping, in
+which he had at first joined, Longcluse says to Arden,--
+
+"I can't tell you how that run of Hood's delights me. I saw a poor
+little friend of mine here before the play began--I had not seen him
+since I was little more than a boy--a Frenchman, a good-natured little
+soul, and I advised him to back Hood, and I have been trembling up to
+this moment. But I think he's safe now to win. Markham can't score this
+time. If he's in 'Queer Street,' as they whisper round the room, you'll
+find he'll either give a simple miss, or put himself into the pocket."
+
+"Well, I'm sure I hope your friend will win, because it will put three
+hundred and eighty pounds into my pocket," said Richard Arden.
+
+And now silence was called, and the building became, in a moment, hushed
+as a cathedral before the anthem; and Markham knocked his own ball into
+the pocket as Longcluse had predicted.
+
+On sped the game, and at last Hood scored a thousand, and won the match,
+greeted by an uproar of applause that, now being no longer restrained,
+lasted for nearly five minutes. The assemblage had, by this time,
+descended from the benches, and crowded the floor in clusters,
+discussing the play or settling bets. The people in the gallery were
+pouring down by the four staircases, and adding to the crowd and buzz.
+
+Suddenly there is a sort of excitement perceptible of a new kind--a
+gathering and pressure of men about one of the doors at the far corner
+of the room. Men are looking back and beckoning to their companions;
+others are shouldering forward as strenuously as they can. What is
+it--any dispute about the score?--a pair of men boxing in the passage?
+
+"No suspicion of fire?" the men at this near end exclaim, and sniff over
+their shoulders, and look about them, and move toward the point where
+the crowd is thickening, not knowing what to make of the matter. But
+soon there runs a rumour about the room--"a man has just been found
+murdered in a room outside," and the crowd now press forward more
+energetically to the point of attraction.
+
+In the cross-passage which connects the two corridors, as Mr. Longcluse
+described, there is an awful crush, and next to no light. A single jet
+of gas burns in the smoking room, where the pressure of the crowd is not
+quite so much felt. There are two policemen in that chamber, in the
+ordinary uniform of the force, and three detectives in plain clothes,
+one supporting a corpse already stiffening, in a sitting posture, as it
+was found, in a far angle of the room, on the bench to your left as you
+look in. All the people are looking up the room. You can see nothing but
+hats, and backs of heads, and shoulders. There is a ceaseless buzz and
+clack of talk and conjecture. Even the policemen are looking, as the
+rest do, at the body. The man who has mounted on the chair near the
+door, with the other beside him, who has one foot on the rung and
+another on the seat, and an arm round the first gentleman's neck,
+although he has not the honour of his acquaintance, to support himself,
+can see, over the others' heads, the one silent face which looks back
+towards the door, upon so many gaping, and staring, and gabbling ones.
+The light is faint. It has occurred to no one to light the gas lamps in
+the centre. But that forlorn face is distinct enough. Fixed and leaden
+it is, with the chin a little raised. The eyes are wide open, with a
+deep and awful gaze; the mouth slightly distorted with what the doctors
+call "a convulsive smile," which shows the teeth a little, and has an
+odd, wincing look.
+
+As I live, it is the little Frenchman, Pierre Lebas, who was talking so
+gaily to-night with Mr. Longcluse!
+
+The ebony haft of a dagger, sticking straight out, shows where the hand
+of the assassin planted the last stab of four, through his black satin
+waistcoat, embroidered with green leaves, red strawberries, and yellow
+flowers, which, I suppose, was one of the finest articles in the little
+wardrobe that Madame Lebas packed up for his holiday. It is not worth
+much now. It has four distinct cuts, as I have said, on the left side,
+right through it, and is soaked in blood.
+
+His pockets have been rifled. The police have found nothing in them but
+a red pocket-handkerchief and a papier-mache snuff-box. If that dumb
+mouth could speak but fifty words, what a world of conjecture it would
+end, and poor Lebas's story would be listened to as never was story of
+his before!
+
+A policeman now takes his place at the door to prevent further pressure.
+No new-comers will be admitted, except as others go out. Those outside
+are asking questions of those within, and transmitting, over their
+shoulders, particulars, eagerly repeated. On a sudden there is a
+subsidence of the buzz and gabble within, and one voice, speaking almost
+at the pitch of a shriek, is heard declaiming. White as a sheet, Mr.
+Longcluse, in high excitement, is haranguing in the smoking-room,
+mounted on a table.
+
+"I say," he cried, "gentlemen, excuse me. There are so many together
+here, so many known to be wealthy, it is an opportunity for a word.
+Things are coming to a pretty pass--garotters in our streets and
+assassins in our houses of entertainment! Here is a poor little
+fellow--look at him--here to-night to see the game, perfectly well and
+happy, murdered by some miscreant for the sake of the money he had about
+him. It might have been the fate of anyone of us. I spoke to him
+to-night. I had not seen him since I was a boy almost. Seven children
+and a wife, he told me, dependent on him. I say there are two things
+wanted--first, a reward of such magnitude as will induce exertion. I
+promise, for my own share, to put down double the amount promised by the
+highest subscriber. Secondly, something should be done for the family he
+has left, in proportion to the loss they have sustained. Upon this point
+I shall make inquiry myself. But this is plain, the danger and scandal
+have attained a pitch at which none of us who cares to walk the streets
+at night, or at any time to look in upon amusements like that we
+attended this evening, can permit them longer to stand. There is a fatal
+defect somewhere. Are our police awake and active? Very possibly; but if
+so the force is not adequate. I say this frightful scandal must be
+abated if, as citizens of London, we desire to maintain our reputation
+for common sense and energy."
+
+There was a tall thin fellow, shabbily dressed, standing nearly behind
+the door, with a long neck, and a flat mean face, slightly pitted with
+small-pox, rather pallid, who was smiling lazily, with half-closed eyes,
+as Mr. Longcluse declaimed; and when he alluded pointedly to the
+inadequacy of the police, this man's amusement improved, and he winked
+pleasantly at the clock which he was consulting at the moment with the
+corner of his eye.
+
+And now a doctor arrived, and Gabriel Laroque the watchmaker, and more
+police, with an inspector. Laroque faints when he sees his murdered
+friend. Recovered after a time, he identifies the body, identifies the
+dagger also as the property of poor Lebas.
+
+The police take the matter now quite into their hands, and clear the
+room.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VI.
+
+TO BED.
+
+
+Mr. Longcluse jumped into a cab, and told the man to drive to his house
+in Bolton Street, Piccadilly. He rolled his coat about him with a kind
+of violence, and threw himself into a corner. Then, as it were, _in
+furore_, and with a stamp on the floor, he pitched himself into the
+other corner.
+
+"I've seen to-night what I never thought I should see. What devil
+possessed me to tell him to go into that black little smoking-room?" he
+muttered. "What a room it is! It has seized my brain somehow. Am I in a
+fever, or going mad, or what? That cursed smoking-room! I can't get out
+of it. It is in the centre of the earth. I'm built round and round in
+it. The moment I begin to think, I'm in it. The moment I close my eyes,
+its four stifling walls are round me. There is no way out. It is like
+hell."
+
+The wind had come round to the south, and a soft rain was pattering on
+the windows. He stopped the cab somewhere near St. James's Street, and
+got out. It was late--it was just past two o'clock, and the streets were
+quiet. Wonderfully still was the great city at this hour, and the
+descent of the rain went on with a sound like a prolonged "hush" all
+round. He paid the man, and stood for a while on the kerbstone, looking
+up and down the street, under the downpour of the rain. You might have
+taken this millionaire for a man who knew not where to lay his head that
+night. He took off his hat, and let the refreshing rain saturate his
+hair, and stream down his forehead and temples.
+
+"Your cab's stuffy and hot, ain't it? Standing half the day with the
+glass in the sun, I daresay," said he to the man, who was fumbling in
+his pockets, and pretending a difficulty about finding change.
+
+"See, never mind, if you haven't got change; I'll go on. Heavier rain
+than I fancied; very pleasant though. When did the rain begin?" asked
+Mr. Longcluse, who seemed in no hurry to get back again.
+
+"A trifle past ten, Sir."
+
+"I say, your horse's knees are a bit broken, ain't they? Never mind, I
+don't care. He can pull you and me to Bolton Street, I daresay."
+
+"Will you please to get in, Sir?" inquired the cabman.
+
+Mr. Longcluse nodded, frowning and thinking of something else; the rain
+still descending on his bare head, his hat in his hand.
+
+The cabman thought this "cove" had been drinking and must be a trifle
+"tight." He would not mind if he stood so for a couple of hours; it
+would run his fare up to something pretty. So cabby had thoughts of
+clapping a nosebag to his horse's jaws, and was making up his mind to a
+bivouac. But Mr. Longcluse on a sudden got in, repeating his direction
+to the driver in a gay and brisk tone, that did not represent his real
+sensations.
+
+"Why should I be so disturbed at that little French fellow? Have I been
+ill, that my nerve is gone and I such a fool? One would think I had
+never seen a dead fellow till now. Better for him to be quiet than at
+his wit's ends, devising ways and means to keep his seven cubs in bread
+and butter. I should have gone away when the game was over. What earthly
+reason led me into that d----d room, when I heard the fuss there? I've a
+mind to go and play hazard, or see a doctor. Arden said he'd look in, in
+the morning. I should like that; I'll talk to Arden. I sha'n't sleep, I
+know; I can't, all night; I've got imprisoned in that suffocating room.
+Shall I ever close my eyes again?"
+
+They had now reached the door of the small, unpretending house of this
+wealthy man. The servant who opened the door, though he knew his
+business, stared a little, for he had never seen his master return in
+such a plight before, and looking so haggard.
+
+"Where's Franklin?"
+
+"Arranging things in your room, Sir."
+
+"Give me a candle. The cab is paid. Mr. Arden, mind, may call in the
+morning; if I should not be down, show him to my room. You are not to
+let him go without seeing me."
+
+Up-stairs went the pale master of the house. "Franklin!" he called, as
+he mounted the last flight of stairs, next his bed-room.
+
+"Yes, Sir."
+
+"I sha'n't want you to-night, I think--that is, I shall manage what I
+want for myself; but I mean to ring for you by-and-by." He was in his
+dressing-room by this time, and looked round to see that his comforts
+were provided for as usual--his foot-bath and hot water.
+
+"Shall I fetch your tea, Sir?"
+
+"I'll drink no tea to-night; I've been disgusted. I've seen a dead man,
+quite unexpectedly; and I sha'n't get over it for some hours, I daresay.
+I feel ill. And what you must do is this: when I ring my bell, you come
+back, and you must sit up here till eight in the morning. I shall leave
+the door between this and the next room open; and should you hear me
+sleeping uneasily, moaning, or anything like nightmare, you must come in
+and waken me. And you are not to go to sleep, mind; the moment I call, I
+expect you in my room. Keep yourself awake how you can; you may sleep
+all to-morrow, if you like."
+
+With this charge Franklin departed.
+
+But Mr. Longcluse's preparations for bed occupied a longer time than he
+had anticipated. When nearly an hour had passed, Mr. Franklin ventured
+up-stairs, and quietly approached the dressing-room door; but there he
+heard his master still busy with his preparations, and withdrew. It was
+not until nearly half-an-hour more had passed that his bell gave the
+promised signal, and Mr. Franklin established himself for the night, in
+the easy-chair in the dressing-room, with the connecting door between
+the two rooms open.
+
+Mr. Longcluse was right. The shock which his nerves had received did not
+permit him to sleep very soon. Two hours later he called for the
+Eau-de-Cologne that stood on his dressing-table; and although he made
+belief to wet his temples with it, and kept it at his bedside with that
+professed design, it was Mr. Franklin's belief that he drank the greater
+part of what remained in the capacious cut-glass bottle. It was not
+until people were beginning to "turn out" for their daily labour that
+sleep at length visited the wearied eye-balls of the Croesus.
+
+Three hours of death-like sleep, and Mr. Longcluse, with a little start,
+was wide awake.
+
+"Franklin!"
+
+"Yes, Sir." And Mr. Franklin stood at his bedside.
+
+"What o'clock is it?"
+
+"Just struck ten, Sir."
+
+"Hand me the _Times_." This was done.
+
+"Tell them to get breakfast as usual. I'm coming down. Open the
+shutters, and draw the curtains, quite."
+
+When Franklin had done this and gone down, Mr. Longcluse read the
+_Times_ with a stern eagerness, still in bed. The great billiard match
+between Hood and Markham was given in spirited detail; but he was
+looking for something else. Just under this piece of news, he found
+it--"Murder and Robbery, in the Saloon Tavern." He read this twice over,
+and then searched the paper in vain for any further news respecting it.
+After this search, he again read the short account he had seen before,
+very carefully, and more than once. Then he jumped out of bed, and
+looked at himself in the glass in his dressing-room.
+
+"How awfully seedy I am looking!" he muttered, after a careful
+inspection. "Better by-and-by."
+
+His hand was shaking like that of a man who had made a debauch, or was
+worn out with ague. He looked ten years older.
+
+"I should hardly know myself," muttered he. "What a confounded, sinful
+old fogey I look, and I so young and innocent!"
+
+The sneer was for himself and at himself. The delivery of such is an odd
+luxury which, at one time or other, most men indulge in. Perhaps it
+should teach us to take them more kindly when other people crack such
+cynical jokes on our heads, or, at least, to perceive that they don't
+always argue personal antipathy.
+
+The sour smile which had, for a moment, flickered with a wintry light on
+his face, gave place suddenly to a dark fatigue; his features sank, and
+he heaved a long, deep, and almost shuddering sigh.
+
+There are moments, happily very rare, when the idea of suicide is
+distinct enough to be dangerous, and having passed which, a man feels
+that Death has looked him very nearly in the face. Nothing more trite
+and true than the omnipresence of suffering. The possession of wealth
+exempts the unfortunate owner from, say, two-thirds of the curse that
+lies heavy on the human race. Two thirds is a great deal; but so is the
+other third, and it may have in it, at times, something as terrible as
+human nature can support.
+
+Mr. Longcluse, the millionaire, had, of course, many poor enviers. Had
+any one of all these uttered such a sigh that morning? Or did any one
+among them feel wearier of life?
+
+"When I have had my tub, I shall be quite another man," said he.
+
+But it did not give him the usual fillip; on the contrary, he felt
+rather chilled.
+
+"What can the matter be? I'm a changed man," said he, wondering, as
+people do at the days growing shorter in autumn, that time had produced
+some changes. "I remember when a scene or an excitement produced no more
+effect upon me, after the moment, than a glass of champagne; and now I
+feel as if I had swallowed poison, or drunk the cup of madness.
+Shaking!--hand, heart, every joint. I have grown such a muff!"
+
+Mr. Longcluse had at length completed his very careless toilet, and
+looking ill, went down-stairs in his dressing-gown and slippers.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VII.
+
+FAST FRIENDS.
+
+
+In little more than half-an-hour, as Mr. Longcluse was sitting at his
+breakfast in his dining-room, Richard Arden was shown in.
+
+"Dressing-gown and slippers--what a lazy dog I am compared with you!"
+said Longcluse gaily as he entered.
+
+"Don't say another word on that subject, I beg. I should have been later
+myself, had I dared; but my Uncle David had appointed to meet me at
+ten."
+
+"Won't you take something?"
+
+"Well, as I have had no breakfast, I don't mind if I do," said Arden,
+laughing.
+
+Longcluse rang the bell.
+
+"When did you leave that place last night?" asked Longcluse.
+
+"I fancy about the same time that you went--about five or ten minutes
+after the match ended. You heard there was a man murdered in a passage
+there? I tried to get down and see it but the crowd was awful."
+
+"I was more lucky--I came earlier," said Longcluse. "It was perfectly
+sickening, and I have been seedy ever since. You may guess what a shock
+it was to me. The murdered man was that poor little Frenchman I told you
+of, who had been talking to me, in high spirits, just before the play
+began--and there he was, poor fellow! You'll see it all there; it makes
+me sick."
+
+He handed him the _Times_.
+
+"Yes, I see. I daresay the police will make him out," said Arden, as he
+glanced hastily over it. "Did you remark some awfully ill-looking
+fellows there?"
+
+"I never saw so many together in a place of the kind before," said
+Longcluse.
+
+"That's a capital account of the match," said Arden, whom it interested
+more than the tragedy of poor little Lebas did. He read snatches of it
+aloud as he ate his breakfast: and then, laying the paper down, he said,
+"By-the-bye, I need not bother you by asking your advice, as I intended.
+My uncle David has been blowing me up, and I think he'll make everything
+straight. When he sends for me and gives me an awful lecture, he always
+makes it up to me afterwards."
+
+"I wish, Arden, I stood as little in need of your advice as you do, it
+seems, of mine," said Longcluse suddenly, after a short silence. His
+dark eyes were fixed on Richard Arden's. "I have been fifty times on the
+point of making a confession to you, and my heart has failed me. The
+hour is coming. These things won't wait. I must speak, Arden, soon or
+never--_very_ soon, or never. _Never_, perhaps, would be wisest."
+
+"Speak _now_, on the contrary," said Arden, laying down his knife and
+fork, and leaning back. "Now is the best time always. If it's a bad
+thing, why, it's over; and if it's a good one, the sooner we have it the
+better."
+
+Longcluse rose, looking down in meditation, and in silence walked slowly
+to the window, where, for a time, without speaking he stood in a
+reverie. Then, looking up, he said, "No man likes a crisis. 'No good
+general ever fights a pitched battle if he can help it.' Wasn't that
+Napoleon's saying? No man who has not lost his head likes to get
+together all he has on earth, and make one stake of it. I have been on
+the point of speaking to you often. I have always recoiled."
+
+"Here I am, my dear Longcluse," said Richard Arden, rising and following
+him to the window, "ready to hear you. I ought to say, only too happy if
+I can be of the least use."
+
+"Immense! everything?" said Longcluse vehemently. "And yet I don't know
+how to ask you--how to begin--so much depends. Don't you conjecture the
+subject?"
+
+"Well, perhaps I do--perhaps I don't. Give me some clue."
+
+"Have you formed no conjecture?" asked Longcluse.
+
+"Perhaps."
+
+"Is it anything in any way connected with your sister, Miss Arden?"
+
+"It may be, possibly."
+
+"Say what you think, Arden, I beseech you."
+
+"Well, I think, perhaps, you admire her."
+
+"Do I? Do I? Is that all? Would to God I could say that is all!
+Admiration, what is it?--Nothing. Love?--Nothing. Mine is adoration and
+utter madness. I have told my secret. What do you say? Do you hate me
+for it?"
+
+"Hate you, my dear fellow! Why on earth should I hate you? On the
+contrary, I ought, I think, to like you better. I'm only a little
+surprised that your feelings should so much exceed anything I could have
+supposed."
+
+"Yesterday, Arden, you spoke as if you liked me. As we drove into that
+place, I fancied you half understood me; and cheered by what you then
+said, I have spoken that which might have died with me, but for that."
+
+"Well, what's the matter? My dear Longcluse, you talk as if I had shown
+signs of wavering friendship. Have I? Quite the contrary."
+
+"Quite the contrary, that is true," said Longcluse eagerly. "Yes, you
+_should_ like me better for it--that is true also. Yours is no wavering
+friendship, I'm sure of it. Let us shake hands upon it. A treaty, Arden,
+a treaty!"
+
+With a fierce smile upon his pale face, and a sudden fire in his eyes,
+he extended his hand energetically, and took that of Arden, who answered
+the invitation with a look in which gleamed faintly something of
+amusement.
+
+"Now, Richard Arden," he continued excitedly, "you have more influence
+with Miss Arden than falls commonly to the lot of a brother. I have
+observed it. It results from her having had during her earlier years
+little society but yours, and from your being some years her senior. It
+results from her strong affection for you, from her admiration of your
+talents, and from her having neither brother nor sister to divide those
+feelings. I never yet saw brother possessed of so evident and powerful
+an influence with a sister. You must use it all for me."
+
+He continued to hold Arden's hand in his as he spoke.
+
+"You can withdraw your hand if you decline," said he. "I sha'n't
+complain. But your hand remains--you don't. It is a treaty, then.
+Henceforward we live _faedere icto_. I'm an exacting friend, but a good
+one."
+
+"My dear fellow, you do me but justice. I am your friend, altogether.
+But you must not mistake me for a guardian or a father in the matter. I
+wish I could make my sister think exactly as I do upon every subject,
+and _that_ above all others. All I can say is, in me you have a fast
+friend."
+
+Longcluse pressed his hand, which he had not relinquished, at these
+words, with a firm grasp and a quick shake.
+
+"Now listen. I must speak on this point, the one that is in my mind, my
+chief difficulty. Personally, there is not, I think, a living being in
+England who knows my history. I am glad of it, for reasons which you
+will approve by-and-by. But this is an enormous disadvantage, though
+only temporary, and the friends of the young lady must weigh my wealth
+against it for the present. But when the time comes, which can't now be
+distant, upon my honour! upon my soul!--by Heaven, I'll show you I'm of
+as good and old a family as any in England! We have been gentlemen up to
+the time of the Conqueror, here in England, and as far before him as
+record can be traced in Normandy. If I fail to show you this when the
+hour comes, stigmatise me as you will."
+
+"I have not a doubt, dear Longcluse. But you are urging a point that
+really has no weight with us people in England. We have taken off our
+hats to the gentlemen in casques and tabards, and feudal glories are at
+a discount everywhere but in Debrett, where they are taken with
+allowance. Your ideas upon these matters are more Austrian than ours. We
+expect, perhaps, a little more from the man, but certainly less from his
+ancestors than our forefathers did. So till a title turns up, and the
+heralds want them, make your mind easy on matters of pedigree, and then
+you can furnish them with effect. All I can tell you is this--there are
+hardly fifty men in England who dare tell all the truth about their
+families."
+
+"We are friends, then; and in that relation, Arden, if there are
+privileges, there are also liabilities, remember, and both extend into a
+possibly distant future."
+
+Longcluse spoke with a gloomy excitement that his companion did not
+quite understand.
+
+"That is quite true, of course," said Arden.
+
+Each was looking in the other's face for a moment, and each face grew
+suddenly dark, darker--and the whole room darkened as the air was
+overshadowed by a mass of cloud that eclipsed the sun, threatening
+thunder.
+
+"By Jove! How awfully dark in a moment!" said Arden, looking from the
+face thus suddenly overcast through the window towards the sky.
+
+"Dark as the future we were speaking of," said Longcluse, with a sad
+smile.
+
+"Dark in one sense, I mean unseen, but not darkened in the ill-omened
+sense," said Richard Arden. "I have great confidence in the future. I
+suppose I am sanguine."
+
+"I ought to be sanguine, if having been lucky hitherto should make one
+so, and yet I'm not. _My_ happiness depends on that which I cannot, in
+the least, control. Thought, action, energy, contribute nothing, and so
+I but drift, and--my heart fails me. Tell me, Arden, for Heaven's sake,
+truth--spare me nothing, conceal nothing. Let me but know it, however
+bitter. First tell me, does Miss Arden dislike me--has she an antipathy
+to me?"
+
+"Dislike you! Nonsense. How could that be? She evidently enjoys your
+society, when you are in spirits and choose to be amusing. Dislike you?
+Oh, my dear Longcluse, you can't have fancied such a thing!" said Arden.
+
+"A man placed as I am may fancy anything--things infinitely more
+unlikely. I sometimes hope she has never perceived my admiration. It
+seems strange and cruel, but I believe where a man cannot be beloved,
+nothing is so likely to make him _hated_ as his presuming to love.
+_There_ is the secret of half the tragedies we read of. The man cannot
+cease to love, and the idol of his passion not only disregards but
+insults it. It is their cruel nature; and thus the pangs of jealousy and
+the agitations of despair are heightened by a peculiar torture, the
+hardest of all hell's torture to endure."
+
+"Well, I have seen you pretty often together, and you must see there is
+nothing of that kind," said Arden.
+
+"You speak quite frankly, do you? For Heaven's sake don't spare me!"
+urged Longcluse.
+
+"I say exactly what I think. There can't be any such feeling," said
+Arden.
+
+Longcluse sighed, looked down thoughtfully, and then, raising his eyes
+again, he said--
+
+"You must answer me another question, dear Arden, and I shall, for the
+present, task your kindness no more. If you think it a fair question,
+will you promise to answer me with unsparing frankness? Let me hear the
+worst."
+
+"Certainly," answered his companion.
+
+"Does your sister like anyone in particular--is she attached to
+anyone--are her affections quite disengaged?"
+
+"So far as I am aware, certainly. She never cared for any one among all
+the people who admired her, and I am quite certain such a thing could
+not be without my observing it," answered Richard Arden.
+
+"I don't know; perhaps not," said Longcluse. "But there is a young
+friend of yours, who I thought was an admirer of Miss Arden's, and
+possibly a favoured one. You guess, I daresay, who it is I mean?"
+
+"I give you my honour I have not the least idea."
+
+"I mean an early friend of yours--a man about your own age--who has
+often been staying in Yorkshire and at Mortlake with you, and who was
+almost like a brother in your house--very intimate."
+
+"Surely you can't mean Vivian Darnley?" exclaimed Richard Arden.
+
+"I do. I mean no other."
+
+"Vivian Darnley? Why, he has hardly enough to live on, much less to
+marry on. He has not an idea of any such thing. If my father fancied
+such an absurdity possible, he would take measures to prevent his ever
+seeing her more. You could not have hit upon a more impossible man," he
+resumed, after a moment's examination of a theory which,
+notwithstanding, made him a little more uneasy than he would have cared
+to confess. "Darnley is no fool either, and I think he is a honourable
+fellow; and altogether, knowing him as I do, the thing is utterly
+incredible. And as for Alice, the idea of his imagining any such folly,
+I can undertake to say, positively never entered her mind."
+
+Here was another pause. Longcluse was again thoughtful.
+
+"May I ask one other question, which I think you will have no difficulty
+in answering?" said he.
+
+"What you please, dear Longcluse; you may command me."
+
+"Only this, how do you think Sir Reginald would receive me?"
+
+"A great deal better than he will ever receive me; with his best
+bow--no, not that, but with open arms and his brightest smile. I tell
+you, and you'll find it true, my father is a man of the world. Money
+won't, of course, do everything; but it can do a great deal. It can't
+make a vulgar man a gentleman, but it may make a gentleman anything. I
+really think you would find him a very fast friend. And now I must leave
+you, dear Longcluse. I have just time, and no more, to keep my
+appointment with old Mr. Blount, to whom my uncle commands me to go at
+twelve."
+
+"Heaven keep us both, dear Arden, in this cheating world! Heaven keep us
+true in this false London world! And God punish the first who breaks
+faith with the other!"
+
+So spoke Longcluse, taking his hand again, and holding it hard for a
+moment, with his unfathomable dark eyes on Arden. Was there a faint and
+unconscious menace in his pale face, as he uttered these words, which a
+little stirred Arden's pride?
+
+"That's a comfortable litany to part with--a form of blessing elevated
+so neatly, at the close, into a malediction. However, I don't object.
+Amen, by all means," laughed Arden.
+
+Longcluse smiled.
+
+"A malediction? I really believe it was. Something very like it, and one
+that includes myself, doesn't it? But we are not likely to earn it. An
+arrow shot into the sea, it can hurt no one. But oh, dear Arden, what
+does such language mean but suffering? What is all bitterness but pain?
+Is any mind that deserves the name ever cruel, except from misery? We
+are good friends, Arden: and if ever I seem to you for a moment other
+than friendly, just say, 'It is his heart-ache and not he that speaks.'
+Good-bye! God bless you!"
+
+At the door there was another parting.
+
+"There's a long dull day before me--say, rather, _night_; weary eyes,
+sleepless brain," murmured Longcluse, in a rather dismal soliloquy,
+standing in his slippers and dressing-gown again at the window.
+"Suspense! What a hell is in that word! Chain a man across a rail, in a
+tunnel--pleasant situation! let him listen for the faint fifing and
+drumming of the engine, miles away, not knowing whether deliverance or
+death may come first. Bad enough, that suspense. What is it to mine! I
+shall see her to-night. I shall see her, and how will it all be? Richard
+Arden wishes it--yes, he does. 'Away, slight man!' It is Brutus who says
+that, I think. Good Heaven! Think of my life--the giddy steps I go by.
+That dizzy walk by moonlight, when I lost my way in Switzerland--beautiful
+nightmare!--the two mile ledge of rock before me, narrow
+as a plank; up from my left, the sheer wall of rock; at my right
+so close that my glove might have dropped over it, the precipice; and
+curling vapour on the cliffs above, that seem about to break, and
+envelope all below in blinding mist. There is my life translated into
+landscape. It has been one long adventure--danger--fatigue. Nature is
+full of beauty--many a quiet nook in life, where peace resides; many a
+man whose path is broad and smooth. Woe to the man who loses his way on
+Alpine tracks, and is benighted!"
+
+Now Mr. Longcluse recollected himself. He had letters to read and note.
+He did this rapidly. He had business in town. He had fifty things on his
+hands; and, the day over, he would see Alice Arden again.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VIII.
+
+CONCERNING A BOOT.
+
+
+Several pairs of boots were placed in Mr. Longcluse's dressing-room.
+
+"Where are the boots that I wore yesterday?" asked he.
+
+"If you please, Sir," said Mr. Franklin, "the man called this morning
+for the right boot of that pair."
+
+"What man?" asked Mr. Longcluse, rather grimly.
+
+"Mr. Armagnac's man, Sir."
+
+"Did you desire him to call for it?" asked Mr. Longcluse.
+
+"No, Sir. I thought you must have told some one else to order him to
+send for it," said Franklin.
+
+"_I?_ You ought to know I leave those things to _you_," said Mr.
+Longcluse, staring at him more aghast and fierce than the possible
+mislaying of a boot would seem to warrant. "Did you see Armagnac's man?"
+
+"No, Sir. It was Charles who came up, at eight o'clock, when you were
+still asleep, and said the shoemaker had called for the right boot of
+the pair you wore yesterday. I had placed them outside the door, and I
+gave it him, Sir, supposing it all right."
+
+"Perhaps it _was_ all right; but you know Charles has not been a week
+here. Call him up. I'll come to the bottom of this."
+
+Franklin disappeared, and Mr. Longcluse, with a stern frown, was staring
+vaguely at the varnished boot, as if it could tell something about its
+missing companion. His brain was already at work. What the plague was
+the meaning of this manoeuvre about his boot? And why on earth, think I,
+should he make such a fuss and a tragedy about it? Charles followed Mr.
+Franklin up the stairs.
+
+"What's all this about my boot?" demanded Mr. Longcluse, peremptorily.
+"_Who_ has got it?"
+
+"A man called for it this morning, Sir."
+
+"What man?"
+
+"I think he said he came from Mr. Armagnac's, Sir."
+
+"You _think_. Say what you _know_, Sir. What _did_ he say?" said Mr.
+Longcluse, looking dangerous.
+
+"Well, Sir," said the man, mending his case, "he did say, Sir, he came
+from Mr. Armagnac's, and wanted the right boot."
+
+"What right boot?--_any_ right boot?"
+
+"No, Sir, please; the right boot of the pair you wore last night,"
+answered the servant.
+
+"And _you_ gave it to him?"
+
+"Yes, Sir, 'twas me," answered Charles.
+
+"Well, you mayn't be quite such a fool as you look. I'll sift all this
+to the bottom. You go, if you please, this moment, to Monsieur Armagnac,
+and say I should be obliged to him for a line to say whether he this
+morning sent for my boot, and got it--and I must have it back, mind;
+_you_ shall bring it back, you understand? And you had better make
+haste."
+
+"I made bold, Sir," said Mr. Franklin, "to send for it myself, when you
+sent me down for Charles; and the boy will be back, Sir, in two or three
+minutes."
+
+"Well, come you and Charles here again when the boy comes back, and
+bring him here also. I'll make out who has been playing tricks."
+
+Mr. Longcluse shut his dressing-room door sharply; he walked to the
+window, and looked out with a vicious scowl; he turned about, and lifted
+up his clenched hand, and stamped on the floor. A sudden thought now
+struck him.
+
+"The right foot? By Jove! it may not be the one."
+
+The boot that was left was already in his hand. He was examining it
+curiously.
+
+"Ay, by heaven! The right _was_ the boot! What's the meaning of this?
+Conspiracy? I should not wonder."
+
+He examined it carefully again, and flung it into its corner with
+violence.
+
+"If it's an accident, it is a very odd one. It is a suspicious accident.
+It may be, of course, all right. I daresay it _is_ all right. The odds
+are ten, twenty, a thousand to one that Armagnac has got it. I should
+have had a warm bath last night, and taken a ten miles' ride into the
+country this morning. It must be all right, and I am plaguing myself
+without a cause."
+
+Yet he took up the boot, and examined it once more; then, dropping it,
+went to the window and looked into the street--came back, opened his
+door, and listened for the messenger's return.
+
+It was not long deferred. As he heard them approach, Mr. Longcluse flung
+open his door and confronted them, in white waistcoat and shirt-sleeves,
+and with a very white and stern face--face and figure all white.
+
+"Well, what about it? Where's the boot?" he demanded, sharply.
+
+"The boy inquired, Sir," said Mr. Franklin, indicating the messenger
+with his open hand, and undertaking the office of spokesman; "and Mr.
+Armagnac did not send for the boot, Sir, and has not got it."
+
+"Oh, oh! very good. And now, Sir," he said, in rising fury, turning upon
+Charles, "what have _you_ got to say for yourself?"
+
+"The man said he came from Mr. Armagnac, please, Sir," said Charles,
+"and wanted the boot, which Mr. Franklin should have back as early as he
+could return it."
+
+"Then you gave it to a common thief with that cock-and-a-bull story, and
+you wish me to believe that you took it all for gospel. There are men
+who would pitch you over the bannisters for a less thing. If I could be
+certain of it, I'd put you beside him in the dock. But, by heavens! I'll
+come to the bottom of the whole thing yet."
+
+He shut the door with a crash, in the faces of the three men, who stood
+on the lobby.
+
+Mr. Franklin was a little puzzled at these transports, all about a boot.
+The servants looked at one another without a word. But just as they were
+going down, the dressing-room door opened, and the following dialogue
+ensued:--
+
+"See, Charles, it was you who saw and spoke with that man?" said
+Longcluse.
+
+"Yes, Sir."
+
+"Should you know him again?"
+
+"Yes, Sir, I think I should."
+
+"What kind of man was he?"
+
+"A very common person, Sir."
+
+"Was he tall or short? What sort of figure?"
+
+"Tall, Sir."
+
+"Go on; what more? Describe him."
+
+"Tall, Sir, with a long neck, and held himself straight; very flat feet,
+I noticed; a thin man, broad in the shoulders--pretty well that."
+
+"Describe his face," said Longcluse.
+
+"Nothing very particular, Sir; a shabby sort of face--a bad colour."
+
+"How?"
+
+"A bad white, Sir, and pock-marked something; a broad face and flat, and
+a very little bit of a nose; his eyes almost shut, and a sort of smile
+about his mouth, and stingy bits of red whiskers, in a curl, down each
+cheek."
+
+"How old?"
+
+"He might be nigh fifty, Sir."
+
+"Ha, ha! very good. How was he dressed?"
+
+"Black frock coat, Sir, a good deal worn; an old flowered satin
+waistcoat, worn and dirty, Sir; and a pair of raither dirty tweed
+trousers. Nothing fitted him, and his hat was brown and greasy, begging
+your parding, Sir; and he had a stick in his hand, and cotton
+gloves--a-trying to look genteel."
+
+"And he asked for the right boot?" asked Mr. Longcluse.
+
+"Yes, Sir."
+
+"You are quite sure of that? Did he take the boot without looking at it,
+or did he examine it before he took it away?"
+
+"He looked at it sharp enough, Sir, and turned up the sole, and he said
+'It's all right,' and he went away, taking it along with him."
+
+"He asked for the boot I wore yesterday, or last night--which did he
+say?" asked Mr. Longcluse.
+
+"I think it was last night he said, Sir," answered Charles.
+
+"Try to recollect yourself. Can't you be certain? Which was it?"
+
+"I think it was _last night_, Sir, he said."
+
+"It doesn't signify," said Mr. Longcluse; "I wanted to see that your
+memory was pretty clear on the subject. You seem to remember all that
+passed pretty accurately."
+
+"I recollect it perfectly well, Sir."
+
+"H'm! That will do. Franklin, you'll remember that description--let
+every one of you remember it. It is the description of a thief; and when
+you see that fellow again, hold him fast till you put him in the hands
+of a policeman. And, Charles, you must be prepared, d'ye see, to swear
+to that description; for I am going to the detective office, and I shall
+give it to the police."
+
+"Yes, Sir," answered Charles.
+
+"I sha'n't want you, Franklin; let some one call a cab."
+
+So he returned to his dressing-room, and shut the door, and
+thought--"That's the fellow whom that miserable little fool, Lebas,
+pointed out to me at the saloon last night. He watched him, he said,
+wherever he went. _I_ saw him. There may be other circumstances. That is
+the fellow--that is the very man. Here's matter to think over! By
+heaven! that fellow must be denounced, and discovered, and brought to
+justice. It is a strong case--a pretty hanging case against him. We
+shall see."
+
+Full of surmises about his lost boot, _Atra Cura_ walking unheard behind
+him, with her cold hand on his shoulder, and with the image of the
+ex-detective always gliding before or beside him, and peering with an
+odious familiarity over his shoulder into his face, Mr. Longcluse
+marched eastward with a firm tread and a cheerful countenance. Friends
+who nodded to him, as he walked along Piccadilly, down Saint James's
+Street, and by Pall Mall, citywards, thought he had just been listening
+to an amusing story. Others, who, more deferentially, saluted the great
+man as he walked lightly by Temple Bar, towards Ludgate Hill, for a
+moment perplexed themselves with the thought, "What stock is up, and
+what down, on a sudden, to-day, that Longcluse looks so radiant?"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IX.
+
+THE MAN WITHOUT A NAME.
+
+
+Mr. Longcluse had made up his mind to a certain course--a sharp and bold
+one. At the police office he made inquiry. "He understood a man had been
+lately dismissed from the force, answering to a certain description,
+which he gave them; and he wished to know whether he was rightly
+informed, because a theft had been that morning committed at his house
+by a man whose appearance corresponded, and against whom he hoped to
+have sufficient evidence."
+
+"Yes, a man like that had been dismissed from the detective department
+within the last fortnight."
+
+"What was his name?" Mr. Longcluse asked.
+
+"Paul Davies, Sir."
+
+"If it should turn out to be the same, I may have a more serious charge
+to bring against him," said Mr. Longcluse.
+
+"Do you wish to go before his worship, and give an information, Sir?"
+urged the officer, invitingly.
+
+"Not quite ripe for that yet," said Mr. Longcluse, "but it is likely
+very soon."
+
+"And what might be the nature of the more serious charge, Sir?" inquired
+the officer, insinuatingly.
+
+"I mean to give my evidence at the coroner's inquest that will be held
+to-day, on the Frenchman who was murdered last night at the Saloon
+Tavern. It is not conclusive--it does not fix anything upon him; it is
+merely inferential."
+
+"Connecting him with the murder?" whispered the man, something like
+reverence mingling with his curiosity, as he discovered the interesting
+character of his interrogator.
+
+"I can only say possibly connecting him in some way with it. Where does
+the man live?"
+
+"He did live in Rosemary Court, but he left that, I think. I'll ask, if
+you please, Sir. Tompkins--hi! You know where Paul Davies puts up. Left
+Rosemary Court?"
+
+"Yes, five weeks. He went to Gold Ring Alley, but he's left that a week
+ago, and I don't know where he is now, but will easy find him. Will it
+answer at eight this evening, Sir?"
+
+"Quite. I want a servant of mine to have a sight of him," said
+Longcluse.
+
+"If you like, Sir, to leave your address and a stamp, we'll send you the
+information by post, and save you calling here."
+
+"Thanks, yes, I'll do that."
+
+So Mr. Longcluse took his leave, and proceeded to the place where the
+coroner was sitting. Mr. Longcluse was received in that place with
+distinction. The moneyed man was honoured--eyes were gravely fixed on
+him, and respectful whispers went about. A seat was procured for him;
+and his evidence, when he came to give it, was heard with marked
+attention, and a general hush of expectation.
+
+                   *       *       *       *       *
+
+The reader, with his permission, must now pass away, seaward, from this
+smoky London, for a few minutes, into a clear air, among the rustling
+foliage of ancient trees, and the fragrance of hay-fields, and the song
+of small birds.
+
+On the London and Dover road stands, as you know, the "Royal Oak," still
+displaying its ancient signboard, where you behold King Charles II
+sitting with laudable composure, and a crown of Dutch gold on his head,
+and displaying his finery through an embrasure in the foliage, with an
+ostentation somewhat inconsiderate, considering the proximity of the
+halberts of the military emissaries in search of him to the royal
+features. As you drive towards London, it shows at the left side of the
+road, a good old substantial inn and posting-house. Its business has
+dwindled to something very small indeed, for the traffic prefers the
+rail, and the once bustling line of road is now quiet. The sun had set,
+but a reflected glow from the sky was still over everything; and by this
+somewhat lurid light Mr. Truelock, the innkeeper, was observing from the
+steps the progress of a chaise, with four horses and two postilions,
+which was driving at a furious pace down the gentle declivity about a
+quarter of a mile away, from the Dover direction towards the "Royal Oak"
+and London.
+
+"It's a runaway. Them horses has took head. What do you think, Thomas?"
+he asked of the old waiter who stood beside him.
+
+"No. See, the post-boys is whipping the hosses. No, Sir, it's a gallop,
+but no runaway."
+
+"There's luggage a' top?" said the innkeeper.
+
+"Yes, Sir, there's something," answered Tom.
+
+"I don't see nothing a-followin' them," said Mr. Truelock, shading his
+eyes with his hand as he gazed.
+
+"No--there _is_ nothing," said Tom.
+
+"They're in fear o' summat, or they'd never go at that lick," observed
+Mr. Truelock, who was inwardly conjecturing the likelihood of their
+pulling up at his door.
+
+"Lawk! _there_ was a jerk. They _was_ nigh over at the finger-post
+turn," said Tom, with a grin.
+
+And now the vehicle and the reeking horses were near. The post-boys held
+up their whips by way of signal to the "Royal Oak" people on the steps,
+and pulled up the horses with all their force before the door.
+Trembling, snorting, rolling up wreaths of steam, the exhausted horses
+stood.
+
+"See to the gentleman, will ye?" cried one of the postilions.
+
+Mr. Truelock, with the old-fashioned politeness of the English
+innkeeper, had run down in person to the carriage door, which Tom had
+opened. Master and man were a little shocked to behold inside an old
+gentleman, with a very brown, or rather a very bilious visage, thin, and
+with a high nose, who looked, as he lay stiffly back in the corner of
+the carriage, enveloped in shawls, with a velvet cap on, as if he were
+either dead or in a fit. His eyes were half open, and nothing but the
+white balls partly visible. There was a little froth at his lips. His
+mouth and delicately-formed hands were clenched, and all the furrows and
+lines of a selfish face fixed, as it seemed, in the lock of death. John
+Truelock said not a word, but peered at this visitor with a horrible
+curiosity.
+
+"If he's dead," whispered Tom in his ear, "we don't take in no dead men
+here. Ye'll have the coroner and his jury in the house, and the place
+knocked up-side down; and if ye make five pounds one way ye'll lose ten
+the tother."
+
+"Ye'll have to take him on, I'm thinkin'," said Mr. Truelock, rousing
+himself, stepping back a little, and addressing the post-boys sturdily.
+"You've no business bringin' a deceased party to my house. You must go
+somewhere else, if so be he _is_ deceased."
+
+"He's not gone dead so quick as that," said the postilion, dismounting
+from the near leader, and throwing the bridle to a boy who stood by, as
+he strutted round bandily to have a peep into the chaise. The postilion
+on the "wheeler" had turned himself about in the saddle in order to have
+a peep through the front window of the carriage. The innkeeper returned
+to the door.
+
+If the old London and Dover road had been what it once was, there would
+have been a crowd about the carriage by this time. Except, however, two
+or three servants of the "Royal Oak," who had come out to see, no one
+had yet joined the little group but the boy who was detained, bridle in
+hand, at the horse's head.
+
+"He'll not be dead yet," repeated the postilion dogmatically.
+
+"What happened him?" asked Mr. Truelock.
+
+"I don't know," answered the post-boy.
+
+"Then how can you say whether he be dead or no?" demanded the innkeeper.
+
+"Fetch me a pint of half-and-half," said the dismounted post-boy, aside,
+to one of the "Royal Oak" people at his elbow.
+
+"We was just at this side of High Hixton," said his brother in the
+saddle, "when he knocked at the window with his stick, and I got a cove
+to hold the bridle, and I came round to the window to him. He had scarce
+any voice in him, and looked awful bad, and he said he thought he was
+a-dying. 'And how far on is the next inn?' he asked; and I told him the
+'Royal Oak' was two miles; and he said, 'Drive like lightning, and I'll
+give you half a guinea a-piece'--I hope he's not gone dead--'if you get
+there in time.'"
+
+By this time their heads were in the carriage again.
+
+"Do you notice a sort of a little jerk in his foot, just the least thing
+in the world?" inquired the landlord, who had sent for the doctor. "It
+will be a fit, after all. If he's living, we'll fetch him into the
+'ouse."
+
+The doctor's house was just round the corner of the road, where the
+clump of elms stands, little more than a hundred yards from the sign of
+the "Royal Oak."
+
+"Who is he?" inquired Mr. Truelock.
+
+"I don't know," answered the postilion.
+
+"What's his name?"
+
+"Don't know that, neither."
+
+"Why, it'll be on that box, won't it?" urged the innkeeper, pointing to
+the roof, where a portmanteau with a glazed cover was secured.
+
+"Nothing on that but 'R. A.,'" answered the man, who had examined it
+half an hour before, with the same object.
+
+"Royal Artillery, eh?"
+
+While they were thus conjecturing, the doctor arrived. He stepped into
+the chaise, felt the old man's hand, tried his pulse, and finally
+applied the stethoscope.
+
+"It is a nervous seizure. He is in a very exhausted state," said the
+doctor, stepping out again, and addressing Truelock. "You must get him
+into bed, and don't let his head down; take off his handkerchief, and
+open his shirt-collar--do you mind? I had best arrange him myself."
+
+So the forlorn old man, without a servant, without a name, is carried
+from the chaise, possibly to die in an inn.
+
+The Rev. Peter Sprott, the rector, passing that way a few minutes later,
+and hearing what had befallen, went up to the bed-room, where the old
+gentleman lay in a four-poster, still unconscious.
+
+"Here's a case," said the doctor to his clerical friend. "A nervous
+attack. He'd be all right in no time, but he's so low. I daresay he
+crossed the herring-pond to-day, and was ill; he's in such an exhausted
+state. I should not wonder if he sank; and here we are, without a clue
+to his name or people. No servant, no name on his trunk; and, certainly,
+it would be awkward if he died unrecognised, and without a word to
+apprise his relations."
+
+"Is there no letter in his pockets?"
+
+"Not one," Truelock says.
+
+The rector happened to take up the great-coat of the old gentleman, in
+which he found a small breast pocket, that had been undiscovered till
+now, and in this a letter. The envelope was gone, but the letter, in a
+lady's hand began: "My dearest papa."
+
+"We are all right, by Jove, we're in luck!"
+
+"How does she sign herself?" said the doctor.
+
+"'Alice Arden,' and she dates from 8, Chester Terrace," answered the
+clergyman.
+
+"We'll telegraph forthwith," said the doctor. "It had best be in your
+name--the clergyman, you know--to a young lady."
+
+So together they composed the telegram.
+
+"Shall it be _ill_ simply, or _dangerously_ ill?" inquired the
+clergyman.
+
+"Dangerously," said the doctor.
+
+"But _dangerously_ may terrify her."
+
+"And if we say only _ill_, she mayn't come at all," said the doctor.
+
+So the telegram was placed in Truelock's hands, who went himself with it
+to the office; and we shall follow it to its destination.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER X.
+
+THE ROYAL OAK.
+
+
+Three people were sitting in Lady May Penrose's drawing-room, in Chester
+Terrace, the windows of which, as all her ladyship's friends are aware,
+command one of the parks. They were looking westward, where the sky was
+all a-glow with the fantastic gold and crimson of sunset. It is quite a
+mistake to fancy that sunset, even in the heart of London--which this
+hardly could be termed--has no rural melancholy and poetic fascination
+in it. Should that hour by any accident overtake you, in the very centre
+of the city, looking, say, from an upper window, or any other elevation
+toward the western sky beyond stacks of chimneys, roofs, and steeples,
+even through the smoke of London, you will feel the melancholy and
+poetry of sunset, in spite of your surroundings.
+
+A little silence had stolen over the party; and young Vivian Darnley,
+who stole a glance now and then at beautiful Alice Arden, whose large,
+dark, grey eyes were gazing listlessly towards the splendid mists, that
+were piled in the west, broke the silence by a remark that, without
+being very wise, or very new, was yet, he hoped, quite in accord with
+the looks of the girl, who seemed for a moment saddened.
+
+"I wonder why it is that sunset, which is so beautiful, makes us all
+sad!"
+
+"It never made me sad," said good Lady May Penrose, comfortably. "There
+is, I think, something very pleasant in a good sunset; there _must_ be,
+for all the little birds begin to sing in it--it must be cheerful. Don't
+you think so, Alice?"
+
+Alice was, perhaps, thinking of something quite different, for rather
+listlessly, and without a change of features, she said, "Oh, yes, very."
+
+"So, Mr. Darnley, you may sing, 'Oh, leave me to my sorrow!' for we
+won't mope with you about the sky. It is a very odd taste, that for
+being dolorous and miserable. I don't understand it--I never could."
+
+Thus rebuked by Lady Penrose, and deserted by Alice, Darnley laughed and
+said--
+
+"Well, I do seem rather to have put my foot in it--but I did not mean
+miserable, you know; I meant only that kind of thing that one feels when
+reading a bit of really good poetry--and most people do not think it a
+rather pleasant feeling."
+
+"Don't mind that moping creature, Alice; let us talk about something we
+can all understand. I heard a bit of news to-day--perhaps, Mr. Darnley,
+you can throw a light upon it. You are a distant relation, I think, of
+Mr. David Arden."
+
+"Some very remote cousinship, of which I am very proud," answered the
+young man gaily, with a glance at Alice.
+
+"And what is that--what about uncle David?" inquired the young lady,
+with animation.
+
+"I heard it from my banker to-day. Your uncle, you know, dear, despises
+us and our doings, and lives, I understand, very quietly; I mean, he has
+chosen to live quite out of the world, so we have no chance of hearing
+anything except by accident, from people we are likely to know. Do you
+see much of your uncle, my dear?"
+
+"Not a great deal; but I am very fond of him--he is such a good man, or
+at least, what is better," she laughed, "he has always been so very kind
+to me."
+
+"You know him, Mr. Darnley?" inquired Lady May.
+
+"By Jove, I do!"
+
+"And like him?"
+
+"No one on earth has better reason to like him," answered the young man
+warmly--"he has been my best friend on earth."
+
+"It is pleasant to know two people who are not ashamed to be grateful,"
+said fat Lady May, with a smile.
+
+The young lady returned her smile very kindly. I don't think you ever
+beheld a prettier creature than Alice Arden. Vivian Darnley had wasted
+many a secret hour in sketching that oval face. Those large, soft, grey
+eyes, and long dark lashes, how difficult they are to express! And the
+brilliant lips! Could art itself paint anything quite like her? Who
+could paint those beautiful dimples that made her smiles so soft, or
+express the little circlet of pearly teeth whose tips were just
+disclosed? Stealthily he was now, for the thousandth time, studying that
+bewitching smile again.
+
+"And what is the story about Uncle David?" asked Alice again.
+
+"Well, what will you say--and you, Mr. Darnley, if it should be a story
+about a young lady?"
+
+"Do you mean that Uncle David is going to marry? I think it would be an
+awful pity!" exclaimed Alice.
+
+"Well, dear, to put you out of pain, I'll tell you at once; I only know
+this--that he is going to provide for her somehow, but whether by
+adopting her as a child, or taking her for a wife, I can't tell. Only I
+never saw any one looking archer than Mr. Brounker did to-day when he
+told me; and I fancied from that it could not be so dull a business as
+merely making her his daughter."
+
+"And who is the young lady?" asked Alice.
+
+"Did you ever happen to meet anywhere a Miss Grace Maubray?"
+
+"Oh, yes," answered Alice quickly. "She was staying, and her father,
+Colonel Maubray, at the Wymerings' last autumn. She's quite lovely, I
+think, and very clever--but I don't know--I think she's a little
+ill-natured, but very amusing. She seems to have a talent for cutting
+people up--and a little of that kind of thing, you know, is very well,
+but one does not care for it _always_. And is she really the young
+lady?"
+
+"Yes, and---- Dear me! Mr. Darnley, I'm afraid my story has alarmed
+you."
+
+"Why should it?" laughed Vivian Darnley, partly to cover, perhaps, a
+little confusion.
+
+"I can't tell, I'm sure, but you blushed as much as a man can; and you
+know you did. I wonder, Alice, what this under-plot can be, where all is
+so romantic. Perhaps, after all, Mr. David Arden is to adopt the young
+lady, and some one else, to whom he is also kind, is to marry her. Don't
+you think that would be a very natural arrangement?"
+
+Alice laughed, and Darnley laughed; but he was embarrassed.
+
+"And Colonel Maubray, is he still living?" asked Alice.
+
+"Oh, no, dear; he died ten or eleven months ago. A very foolish man, you
+know; he wasted a very good property. He was some distant relation,
+also; Mr. Brounker said your uncle, Mr. David Arden, was very much
+attached to him--they were schoolfellows, and great friends all their
+lives."
+
+"I should not wonder," said Alice smiling--and then became silent.
+
+"Do you know the young lady, this fortunate Miss Maubray?" said Lady
+May, turning to Vivian Darnley again.
+
+"I? Yes--that is, I can't say more than a mere acquaintance--and not an
+old one. I made her acquaintance at Mr. Arden's house. He is her
+guardian. I don't know about any other arrangements. I daresay there may
+be."
+
+"Well, I know her a little, also," said Lady May. "I thought her
+pretty--and she sings a little, and she's clever."
+
+"She's all that," said Alice. "Oh, here comes Dick! What do you say,
+Richard--is not Miss Maubray very pretty? We are making a plot to marry
+her to Vivian Darnley, and get Uncle David to contribute her _dot_."
+
+"What benevolent people! _You_ don't object, I dare say, Vivian."
+
+"I have not been consulted," said he; "and, of course, Uncle David need
+not be consulted, as he has simply to transfer the proper quantity of
+stock."
+
+Richard Arden had drawn near Lady May, and said a few words in a low
+tone, which seemed not unwelcome to her.
+
+"I saw Longcluse this morning. He has not been here, has he?" he added,
+as a little silence threatened the conversation.
+
+"No, he has not turned up. And what a charming person he is!" exclaimed
+Lady May.
+
+"I quite agree with you, Lady May," said Arden. "He is, take him on
+every subject, I think, about the cleverest fellow I ever met--art,
+literature, games, _chess_, which I take to be a subject by itself. He
+is very great at chess--for an amateur, I mean--and when I was
+chess-mad, nearly a year ago and beginning to grow conceited, he opened
+my eyes, I can tell you; and Airly says he is the best musical critic in
+England, and can tell you at any hour who is who in the opera, all over
+Europe; and he really understands, what so few of us here know anything
+about, foreign politics, and all the people and their stories and
+scandals he has at his fingers' ends. And he is such good company, when
+he chooses, and such a gentleman always!"
+
+"He is very agreeable and amusing when he takes the trouble; I always
+like to listen when Mr. Longcluse talks," said Alice Arden, to the
+secret satisfaction of her brother, whose enthusiasm was, I think,
+directed a good deal to her--and to, perhaps, the vexation of other
+people, whom she did not care at that moment to please.
+
+"An Admirable Crichton!" murmured Vivian Darnley, with a rather
+hackneyed sneer. "Do you like his style of--_beauty_, I suppose I should
+call it? It has the merit of being very uncommon, at least, don't you
+think?"
+
+"Beauty, I think, matters very little. He has no beauty, but his face
+has what, in a man, I think a great deal better--I mean refinement, and
+cleverness, and a kind of satire that rather interests one," said Miss
+Arden, with animation.
+
+Sir Walter Scott, in his "Rob Roy"--thinking, no doubt, of the Diana
+Vernon of his early days, the then beautiful lady, long afterwards
+celebrated by Basil Hall as the old Countess Purgstorf (if I rightly
+remember the title), and recurring to some cherished incident, and the
+thrill of a pride that had ceased to agitate, but was at once pleasant
+and melancholy to remember--wrote these words: "She proceeded to read
+the first stanza, which was nearly to the following purpose. [Then
+follow the verses.] 'There is a great deal of it,' said she, glancing
+along the paper, and interrupting the sweetest sounds that mortal ears
+can drink in--those of a youthful poet's verses, namely, read by the
+lips which are dearest to them." So writes Walter Scott. On the other
+hand, in certain states, is there a pain intenser than that of listening
+to the praises of another man from the lips we love?
+
+"Well," said Darnley, "as you say so, I suppose there is all that,
+though I can't see it. Of course, if he tries to make himself agreeable
+(which he never does to me), it makes a difference, it affects
+everything--it affects even his looks. But I should not have thought him
+good-looking. On the contrary, he appears to me about as ugly a fellow
+as one could see in a day."
+
+"He's not that," said Alice. "No one could be ugly with so much
+animation and so much expression."
+
+"You take up the cudgels very prettily, my dear, for Mr. Longcluse,"
+said Lady May. "I'm sure he ought to be extremely obliged to you."
+
+"So he would be," said Richard Arden. "It would upset him for a week, I
+have no doubt."
+
+There are few things harder to interpret than a blush. At these words
+the beautiful face of Alice Arden flushed, first with a faint, and then,
+as will happen, with a brighter crimson. If Lady May had seen it, she
+would have laughed, probably, and told her how much it became her. But
+she was, at that moment, going to her chair in the window, and Richard
+Arden would, of course, accompany her. He did see it, as distinctly as
+he saw the glow in the sky over the park trees. But, knowing what a
+slight matter will sometimes make a recoil, and even found an antipathy,
+he wisely chose to see it not--and chatting gaily, followed Lady May to
+the window.
+
+But Vivian Darnley, though he said nothing, saw that blush, of which
+Alice, with a sort of haughty defiance, was conscious. It did not make
+him like or admire Mr. Longcluse more.
+
+"Well, I suppose he is very charming--I don't know him well enough
+myself to give an opinion. But he makes his acquaintances rather oddly,
+doesn't he? I don't think any one will dispute that."
+
+"I don't know really. Lady May introduced him to me, and she seems to
+like him very much. So far as I can see, people are very well pleased at
+knowing him, and don't trouble their heads as to how it came about,"
+said Miss Arden.
+
+"No, of course; but people not fortunate enough to come within the
+influence of his fascination, can't help observing. How did he come to
+know your brother, for instance? Did any one introduce him? Nothing of
+the kind. Richard's horse was hurt or lame at one of the hunts in
+Warwickshire, and he lent him a horse, and introduced himself, and they
+dined together that evening on the way back, and so the thing was done."
+
+"Can there be a better introduction than a kindness?" asked Alice.
+
+"Yes, where it _is_ a kindness, I agree; but no one has a right to push
+his services upon a stranger who does not ask for them."
+
+"I really can't see. Richard need not have taken his horse if he had not
+liked," she answered.
+
+"And Lady May, who thinks him such a paragon, knows no more about him
+than any one else. She had her footman behind her--didn't she tell you
+all about it?"
+
+"I really don't recollect; but does it very much matter?"
+
+"I think it does--that is, it has been a sort of system. He just gave
+her his arm over a crossing, where she had taken fright, and then
+pretended to think her a great deal more frightened than she really can
+have been, and made her sit down to recover in a confectioner's shop,
+and so saw her home, and _that_ affair was concluded. I don't say, of
+course, that he is never introduced in the regular way; but a year or
+two ago, when he was beginning, he always made his approaches by means
+of that kind of stratagem; and the fact is, no one knows anything on
+earth about him; he has emerged, like a figure in a phantasmagoria, from
+total darkness, and may lose himself in darkness again at any moment."
+
+"I am interested in that man, whoever he is; his entrance, and his
+probable exit, so nearly resemble mine," said a clear, deep-toned voice
+close to them; and looking up, Miss Arden saw the pale face and peculiar
+smile of Mr. Longcluse in the fading twilight.
+
+Mr. Longcluse was greeted by Lady May and by Richard Arden, and then
+again he drew near Alice, and said, "Do you recollect, Miss Arden, about
+ten days ago I told you a story that seemed to interest you--the story
+of a young and eloquent friar, who died of love in his cell in an abbey
+in the Tyrol, and whose ghost used to be seen pensively leaning on the
+pulpit from which he used to preach, too much thinking of the one
+beautiful face among his audience, which had enthralled him. I had left
+the enamel portrait I told you of at an artist's in Paris, and I wrote
+for it, thinking you might wish to see it--hoping you might care to see
+it," he added, in a lower tone, observing that Vivian Darnley, who was
+not in a happy temper, had, with a sudden impulse of disdain, removed
+himself to another window, there to contemplate the muster of the stars
+in the darkening sky, at his leisure.
+
+"That was so kind of you, Mr. Longcluse! You have had a great deal of
+trouble. It _is_ such an interesting story!" said Alice.
+
+In his reception, Mr. Longcluse found something that pleased, almost
+elated him. Had Richard Arden been speaking to her on the subject of
+their morning's conversation? He thought not, Lady May had mentioned
+that he had not been with them till just twenty minutes ago, and Arden
+had told him that he had dined with his uncle David and Mr. Blount, upon
+the same business on which he had been occupied with both nearly all
+day. No, he could not have spoken to her. The slight change which made
+him so tumultuously proud and happy, was entirely spontaneous.
+
+"So it seemed to me--an eccentric and interesting story--but pray do not
+wound me by speaking of trouble. I only wish you knew half the pleasure
+it has been to me to get it to show you. May I hold the lamp near for a
+moment while you look at it?" he said, indicating a tiny lamp which
+stood on a pier-table, showing a solitary gleam, like a lighthouse,
+through the gloom; "you could not possibly see it in this faint
+twilight."
+
+The lady assented. Had Mr. Longcluse ever felt happier?
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XI.
+
+THE TELEGRAM ARRIVES.
+
+
+Mr. Longcluse placed the little oval enamel, set in gold, in Miss
+Arden's fingers, and held the lamp beside her while she looked.
+
+"How beautiful!--how very interesting!" she exclaimed. "What suffering
+in those thin, handsome features! What a strange enthusiasm in those
+large hazel eyes! I could fancy that monk the maddest of lovers, the
+most chivalric of saints. And did he really suffer that incredible fate?
+Did he really die of love?"
+
+"So they say. But why incredible? I can quite imagine that wild
+shipwreck, seeing what a raging sea love is, and how frail even the
+strongest life."
+
+"Well, I can't say, I am sure. But your own novelists laugh at the idea
+of any but women--whose business it is, of course, to pay that tribute
+to their superiors--dying of love. But if any man could die such a
+death, he must be such as this picture represents. What a wild, agonised
+picture of passion and asceticism! What suicidal devotion and melancholy
+rapture! I confess I could almost fall in love with that picture
+myself."
+
+"And I think, were I he, I could altogether die to earn one such
+sentence, so spoken," said Mr. Longcluse.
+
+"Could you lend it to me for a very few days?" asked the young lady.
+
+"As many--as long as you please. I am only too happy."
+
+"I should so like to make a large drawing of this in chalks!" said
+Alice, still gazing on the miniature.
+
+"You draw so beautifully in chalks! Your style is not often found
+here--your colouring is so fine."
+
+"Do you really think so?"
+
+"You must know it, Miss Arden. You are too good an artist not to suspect
+what everyone else must see, the real excellence of your drawings. Your
+colouring is better understood in France. Your master, I fancy, was a
+Frenchman?" said Mr. Longcluse.
+
+"Yes, he was, and we got on very well together. Some of his young lady
+pupils were very much afraid of him."
+
+"Your poetry is fired by that picture, Miss Arden. Your copy will be a
+finer thing than the original," said he.
+
+"I shall aim only at making it a faithful copy; and if I can accomplish
+anything like that, I shall be only too glad."
+
+"I hope you will allow me to see it?" pleaded Longcluse.
+
+"Oh, certainly," she laughed. "Only I'm a little afraid of you, Mr.
+Longcluse."
+
+"What can you mean, Miss Arden?"
+
+"I mean, you are so good a critic in art, every one says, that I really
+_am_ afraid of you," answered the young lady, laughing.
+
+"I should be very glad to forfeit any little knowledge I have, if it
+were attended with such a misfortune," said Longcluse. "But I don't
+flatter; I tell you truly, a critic has only to admire, when he looks at
+your drawings; they are quite above the level of an amateur's work."
+
+"Well, whether you mean it or not, I _am_ very much flattered," she
+laughed. "And though wise people say that flattery spoils one, I can't
+help thinking it very agreeable to be flattered."
+
+At this point of the dialogue Mr. Vivian Darnley--who wished that it
+should be plain to all, and to one in particular, that he did not care
+the least what was going on in other parts of the room--began to stumble
+through the treble of a tune at the piano with his right hand. And
+whatever other people may have thought of his performance, to Miss Alice
+Arden it seemed very good music indeed, and inspired her with fresh
+animation. Such as it was, Mr. Darnley's solo also turned the course of
+Miss Arden's thoughts from drawing to another art, and she said--
+
+"You, Mr. Longcluse, who know everything about the opera, can you tell
+me--of course you can--anything about the great basso who is coming?"
+
+"Stentoroni?"
+
+"Yes; the newspapers and critics promise wonders."
+
+"It is nearly two years since I heard him. He was very great, and
+deserves all they say in 'Robert le Diable.' But there his greatness
+began and ended. The voice, of course, you had, but everything else was
+defective. It is plain, however, that the man who could make so fine a
+study of one opera, could with equal labour make as great a success in
+others. He has not sung in any opera for more than a year and a half,
+and has been working diligently; and so everyone is in the dark very
+much, and I am curious to hear the result--and nobody knows more than I
+have told you. You are sure of a good 'Robert le Diable,' but all the
+rest is speculation."
+
+"And now, Mr. Longcluse, I shall try your good-nature."
+
+"How?"
+
+"I am going to make Lady May ask you to sing a song."
+
+"Pray don't."
+
+"Why not?"
+
+"I should so much rather you asked me yourself."
+
+"That's very good of you; then I certainly shall. I _do_ ask you."
+
+"And I instantly obey. And what shall the song be?" asked he,
+approaching the piano, to which she also walked.
+
+"Oh, that ghostly one that I liked so much when you sang it here about a
+week ago," she answered.
+
+"I know it--yes, with pleasure." And he sat down at the piano, and in a
+clear, rich baritone, sang the following odd song:--
+
+    "The autumn leaf was falling
+       At midnight from the tree,
+     When at her casement calling,
+       'I'm here, my love,' says he.
+     'Come down and mount behind me,
+       And rest your little head,
+     And in your white arms wind me,
+       Before that I be dead.
+
+    "'You've stolen my heart by magic,
+       I've kissed your lips in dreams:
+     Our wooing wild and tragic
+       Has been in ghostly scenes.
+     The wondrous love I bear you
+       Has made one life of twain,
+     And it will bless or scare you,
+       In deathless peace or pain.
+
+    "'Our dreamland shall be glowing,
+       If you my bride will be;
+     To darkness both are going,
+       Unless you come with me.
+     Come now, and mount behind me,
+       And rest your little head,
+     And in your white arms wind me,
+       Before that I be dead.'"
+
+"Why, dear Alice, will you choose that dismal song, when you know that
+Mr. Longcluse has so many others that are not only charming, but cheery
+and natural?"
+
+"It is because it is _un_natural that I like that song so much; the air
+is so ominous and spectral, and yet so passionate. I think the idea is
+Icelandic--those ghostly lovers that came in the dark to win their
+beloved maidens, who as yet knew nothing of their having died, to ride
+with them over the snowy fields and frozen rivers, to join their friends
+at a merry-making which they were never to see; but there is something
+more mysterious even in this lover, for his passion has unearthly
+beginnings that lose themselves in utter darkness. Thank you very much,
+Mr. Longcluse. It is so very kind of you! And now, Lady May, isn't it
+your turn to choose? May she choose, Mr. Longcluse?"
+
+"Any one, if you desire it, may choose anything I possess, and have it,"
+said he, in a low impassioned murmur.
+
+How the young lady would have taken this, I know not, but all were
+suddenly interrupted. For at this moment a servant entered with a note,
+which he presented, upon a salver, to Mr. Longcluse.
+
+"Your servant is waiting, Sir, please, for orders in the awl," murmured
+the man.
+
+"Oh, yes--thanks," said Mr. Longcluse, who saw a shabby letter, with the
+words "Private" and "Immediate" written in a round, vulgar hand over the
+address.
+
+"Pray read your note, Mr. Longcluse, and don't mind us," said Lady May.
+
+"Thank you very much. I think I know what this is. I gave some evidence
+to-day at an inquest," began Mr. Longcluse.
+
+"That wretched Frenchman," interposed Lady May, "Monsieur Lebrun or----"
+
+"Lebas," said Vivian Darnley.
+
+"Yes, so it was, Lebas; what a frightful thing that was!" continued Lady
+May, who was always well up in the day's horrors.
+
+"Very melancholy, and very alarming also. It is a selfish way of looking
+at it, but one can't help thinking it might just as well have happened
+to any one else who was there. It brings it home to one a little
+uncomfortably," said Mr. Longcluse, with an uneasy smile and a shrug.
+
+"And you actually gave evidence, Mr. Longcluse?" said Lady May.
+
+"Yes, a little," he answered. "It may lead to something. I hope so. As
+yet it only indicates a line of inquiry. It will be in the papers, I
+suppose, in the morning. There will be, I daresay, a pretty full report
+of that inquest."
+
+"Then you saw something occur that excited your suspicions?" said Lady
+May.
+
+Mr. Longcluse recounted all he had to tell, and mentioned having made
+inquiries as to the present abode of the man, Paul Davies, at the police
+office.
+
+"And this note, I daresay, is the one they promised to send me, telling
+the result of their inquiries," he added.
+
+"Pray open it and see," said Lady May.
+
+He did so. He read it in silence. From his foot to the crown of his head
+there crept a cold influence as he read. Stream after stream, this
+_aura_ of fear spread upwards to his brain. Pale Mr. Longcluse shrugged
+and smiled, and smiled and shrugged, as his dark eye ran down the lines,
+and with a careless finger he turned the page over. He smiled, as
+prizefighters smile for the spectators, while every nerve quivered with
+pain. He looked up, smiling still, and thrust the note into his
+breast-pocket.
+
+"Well, Mr. Longcluse, a long note it seems to have been," said Lady May,
+curiously.
+
+"Not very long, but what is as bad, very illegible," said Mr. Longcluse
+gaily.
+
+"And what about the man--the person the police were to have inquired
+after?" she persisted.
+
+"I find it is no police information, nothing of the kind," answered
+Longcluse with the same smile. "It comes by no means from one of that
+long-headed race of men; on the contrary, poor fellow, I believe he is
+literally a little mad. I make him a trifling present every Christmas,
+and that is a very good excuse for his plaguing me all the year round. I
+was in hopes this letter might turn out an amusing one, but it is not;
+it is a failure. It is rather sensible, and disgusting."
+
+"Well, then, I must have my song, Mr. Longcluse," said Lady May, who,
+under cover of music, sometimes talked a little, in gentle murmurs, to
+that person with whom talk was particularly interesting.
+
+But that song was not to be heard in Lady May's drawing-room that night,
+for a kindred interruption, though much more serious in its effects upon
+Mr. Longcluse's companions, occurred. A footman entered, and presented
+on a salver a large brown envelope to Miss Alice Arden.
+
+"Oh, dear! It is a telegram," exclaimed Miss Arden, who had taken it to
+the window. Lady May Penrose was beside her by this time. Alice looked
+on the point of fainting.
+
+"I'm afraid papa is very ill," she whispered, handing the paper, which
+trembled very much in her hand, to Lady May.
+
+"H'm! Yes--but you may be sure it's exaggerated. Bring some sherry and
+water, please. You look a little frightened, my dear. Sit down, darling.
+There now! These messages are always written in a panic. What do you
+mean to do?"
+
+"I'll go, of course," said Alice.
+
+"Well, yes--I think you must go. What is the place? Twyford, the 'Royal
+Oak?' Look out Twyford, please Mr. Darnley--there's a book there. It
+must be a post-town. It was thoughtful saying it is on the Dover coach
+road."
+
+Vivian Darnley was gazing in deep concern at Alice. Instantly he began
+turning over the book, and announced in a few moments more--"It is a
+post-town--only thirty-six miles from London," said Mr. Darnley.
+
+"Thanks," said Lady May. "Oh, here's the wine--I'm so glad! You must
+have a little, dear; and you'll take Louisa Diaper with you, of course;
+and you shall have one of my carriages, and I'll send a servant with
+you, and he'll arrange everything; and how soon do you wish to go?"
+
+"Immediately, instantly--thanks, darling. I'm _so_ much obliged!"
+
+"Will your brother go with you?"
+
+"No, dear. Papa, you know, has not forgiven him, and it is, I think, two
+years since they met. It would only agitate him."
+
+And with these words she hurried to her room, and in another moment,
+with the aid of her maid, was completing her hasty preparations.
+
+In wonderfully little time the carriage was at the door. Mr. Longcluse
+had taken his leave. So had Richard Arden, with the one direction to the
+servant, "If anything should go _very_ wrong, be sure to telegraph for
+me. Here is my address."
+
+"Put this in your purse, dear," said Lady May. "Your father is so
+thoughtless, he may not have brought money enough with him; and you will
+find it is as I say--he'll be a great deal better by the time you get
+there; and God bless you, my dear."
+
+And she kissed her as heartily as she dared, without communicating the
+rouge and white powder which aided her complexion.
+
+As Alice ran down, Vivian Darnley awaited her outside the drawing-room
+door, and ran down with her, and put her into the carriage. He leaned
+for a moment on the window, and said--
+
+"I hope you didn't mind that nonsense Lady May was talking just now
+about Miss Grace Maubray. I assure you it is utter folly. I was awfully
+vexed; but you didn't believe it?"
+
+"I didn't hear her say anything, at least seriously. Wasn't she
+laughing? I'm in such trouble about that message! I am so longing to be
+at my journey's end!"
+
+He took her hand and pressed it, and the carriage drove away. And
+standing on the steps, and quite forgetting the footman close behind
+him, he watched it as it drove rapidly southward, until it was quite out
+of sight, and then with a great sigh and "God for ever bless
+you!"--uttered not above his breath--he turned about, and saw those
+powdered and liveried effigies, and walked up with his head rather high
+to the drawing-room, where he found Lady May.
+
+"I sha'n't go to the opera to-night; it is out of the question," said
+she. "But _you_ shall. You go to my box, you know; Jephson will put you
+in there."
+
+It was plain that the good-natured soul was unhappy about Alice, and,
+Richard Arden having departed, wished to be alone. So Vivian took his
+leave, and went away--but not to the opera--and sauntered for an hour,
+instead, in a melancholy romance up and down the terrace, till the moon
+rose and silvered the trees in the park.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XII.
+
+SIR REGINALD ARDEN.
+
+
+The human mind being, in this respect, of the nature of a kaleidoscope,
+that the slightest hitch, or jolt, or tremor is enough to change the
+entire picture that occupies it, it is not to be supposed that the
+illness of her father, alarming as it was, could occupy Alice Arden's
+thoughts to the exclusion of every other subject, during every moment of
+her journey. One picture, a very pretty one, frequently presented
+itself, and always her heart felt a strange little pain as this pretty
+phantom appeared. It was the portrait of a young girl, with fair golden
+hair, a brilliant complexion, and large blue eyes, with something
+_riant_, triumphant, and arch to the verge of mischief, in her animated
+and handsome face.
+
+The careless words of good Lady May, this evening, and the very obvious
+confusion of Vivian Darnley at mention of the name of Grace Maubray,
+troubled her. What was more likely than that Uncle David, interested in
+both, should have seriously projected the union which Lady May had gaily
+suggested? If she--Alice Arden--liked Vivian Darnley, it was not very
+much, her pride insisted. In her childhood they had been thrown
+together. He had seemed to like her; but had he ever spoken? Why was he
+silent? Was she fool enough to like him?--that cautious, selfish young
+man, who was thinking, she was quite certain now, of a marriage of
+prudence or ambition with Grace Maubray? It was a cold, cruel, sordid
+world!
+
+But, after all, why should he have spoken? or why should he have hoped
+to be heard with favour? She had been to him, thank Heaven, just as any
+other pleasant, early friend. There was nothing to regret--nothing
+fairly to blame. It was just that a person whom she had come to regard
+as a property was about to go, and belong quite, to another. It was the
+foolish little jealousy that everyone feels, and that means nothing. So
+she told herself; but constantly recurred the same pretty image, and
+with it the same sudden little pain at her heart.
+
+But now came the other care. As time and space shorten, and the moment
+of decision draws near, the pain of suspense increases. They were within
+six miles of Twyford. Her heart was in a wild flutter--now throbbing
+madly, now it seemed standing still. The carriage window was down. She
+was looking out on the scenery--strange to her--all bright and serene
+under a brilliant moon. What message awaited her at the inn to which
+they were travelling at this swift pace? How frightful it might be!
+
+"Oh, Louisa!" she every now and then imploringly cried to her maid, "how
+do you think it will be? Oh! how will it be? Do you think he'll be
+better? Oh! do you think he'll be better? Tell me again about his other
+illness, and how he recovered? Don't you think he will this time? Oh,
+Louisa, darling! don't you think so? Tell me--_tell_ me you do!"
+
+Thus, in her panic, the poor girl wildly called for help and comfort,
+until at last the carriage turned a curve in the road at which stood a
+shadowy clump of elms, and in another moment the driver pulled up under
+the sign of the "Royal Oak."
+
+"Oh, Louisa! Here it is," cried the young lady, holding her maid's wrist
+with a trembling grasp.
+
+The inn-door was shut, but there was light in the hall, and light in an
+upper room.
+
+"Don't knock--only ring the bell. He may be asleep, God grant!" said the
+young lady.
+
+The door was quickly opened, and a waiter ran down to the carriage
+window, where he saw a pair of large wild eyes, and a very pale face,
+and heard the question--"An old gentlemen has been ill here, and a
+telegram was sent; is he--how is he?"
+
+"He's better, Ma'am," said the man.
+
+With a low, long "O--Oh!" and clasped hands and upturned eyes, she
+leaned back in the carriage, and a sudden flood of tears relieved her.
+Yes; he was a great deal better. The attack was quite over; but he had
+not spoken. He seemed much exhausted; and having swallowed some claret,
+which the doctor prescribed, he had sunk into a sound and healthy sleep,
+in which he still lay. A message by telegraph had been sent to announce
+the good news, but Alice was some way on her journey before it had
+reached.
+
+Now the young lady got down, and entered the homely old inn, followed by
+her maid. She could have dropped on her knees in gratitude to her Maker;
+but true religion, like true affection, is shy of demonstrating its
+fervours where sympathy is doubtful.
+
+Gently, hardly breathing, guided by the "chambermaid," she entered her
+father's room, and stood at his bedside. There he lay, yellow, lean, the
+lines of his face in repose still forbidding, the thin lips and thin
+nose looking almost transparent, and breathing deeply and regularly, as
+a child in his slumbers. In that face Alice could not discover what any
+stranger would have seen. She only saw the face of her father. Selfish
+and capricious as he was, and violent too--a wicked old man, if one
+could see him justly--he was yet proud of her, and had many schemes and
+projects afloat in his jaded old brain, of which her beauty was the
+talisman, of which she suspected nothing, and with which his head was
+never more busy than at the very moment when he was surprised by the
+_aura_ of his coming fit.
+
+The doctor's conjecture was right. He had crossed the Channel that
+morning. In his French _coupee_, he had for companion the very man he
+had most wished and contrived to travel homeward with. This was Lord
+Wynderbroke.
+
+Lord Wynderbroke was fifty years old and upwards. He was very much taken
+with Alice, whom he had met pretty often. He was a man who was thought
+likely to marry. His estate was in the nattiest order. He had always
+been prudent, and cultivated a character. He had, moreover, mortgages
+over Sir Reginald Arden's estate, the interest of which the baronet was
+beginning to find it next to impossible to pay. They had been making a
+little gouty visit to Vichy, and Sir Reginald had taken good care to
+make the journey homeward with Lord Wynderbroke, who knew that when he
+pleased he could be an amusing companion, and who also felt that kind of
+interest in him which everyone experiences in the kindred of the young
+lady of whom he is enamoured.
+
+The baronet, who tore up or burnt his letters for the most part, had
+kept this particular one by which his daughter had been traced and
+summoned to the "Royal Oak." It was, he thought, clever. It was amusing,
+and had some London gossip. He had read bits of it to Lord Wynderbroke
+in the _coupee_. Lord Wynderbroke was delighted. When they parted, he
+had asked leave to pay him a visit at Mortlake.
+
+"Only too happy, if you are not afraid of the old house falling in upon
+us. Everything _there_, you know, is very much as my grandfather left
+it. I only use it as a caravanserai, and alight there for a little, on a
+journey. Everything there is tumbling to pieces. But you won't mind--no
+more than I do."
+
+So the little visit was settled. The passage was rough. Peer and baronet
+were ill. They did not care to reunite their fortunes after they touched
+English ground. As the baronet drew near London, for certain reasons he
+grew timid. He got out with a portmanteau and dressing-case, and an
+umbrella, at Drowark station, sent his servant on with the rest of the
+luggage by rail, and himself took a chaise; and, after one change of
+horses, had reached the "Royal Oak" in the state in which we first saw
+him.
+
+The doctor had told the people at that inn that he would look in, in the
+course of the night, some time after one o'clock, being a little uneasy
+about a possible return of the old man's malady. There was that in the
+aristocratic looks and belongings of his patient, and in the very
+fashionable address to which the message to his daughter was
+transmitted, which induced in the mind of the learned man a suspicion
+that a "swell" might have accidentally fallen into his hands.
+
+By this time, thanks to the diligence of Louisa Diaper, every one in the
+house had been made acquainted with the fact that the sick man was no
+other than Sir Reginald Arden, Bart., and with many other circumstances
+of splendour, which would not, perhaps, have so well stood the test of
+inquiry. The doctor and his crony, the rector--simplest of parsons--who
+had agreed to accompany him in this nocturnal call, being a curious man,
+as gentlemen inhabiting quiet villages will be--these two gentlemen now
+heard all this lore in the hall at a quarter past one, and entered the
+patient's chamber (where they found Miss Arden and her maid)
+accordingly. In whispers, the doctor made to Miss Arden a most
+satisfactory report. He made his cautious inspection of the patient, and
+again had nothing but what was cheery to say.
+
+If the rector had not prided himself upon his manners, and had been
+content with one bow on withdrawing from the lady's presence, they would
+not that night have heard the patient's voice--and perhaps, all things
+considered, so much the better.
+
+"I trust, Madam, in the morning Sir Reginald may be quite himself again.
+It is pleasant, Madam, to witness slumber so quiet," murmured the
+clergyman kindly, and in perfect good faith. "It is the slumber of a
+tranquil mind--a spirit at peace with itself."
+
+Smiling kindly in making the last stiff bow which accompanied these
+happy words, the good man tilted over a little table behind him, on
+which stood a decanter of claret, a water caraffe, and two glasses, all
+of which came to the ground with a crash that wakened the baronet. He
+sat up straight in his bed and stared round, while the clergyman, in
+consternation, exclaimed--"Good gracious!"
+
+"Hollo! what is it?" cried the fierce, thin voice of the baronet. "What
+the devil's all this? Where's Crozier? Where's my servant? Will you,
+will you, some of you, say where the devil I am?" He was screaming all
+this, and groping and clutching at either side of the bed's head for a
+bell-rope, intending to rouse the house. "Where's Crozier, I say? Where
+the devil's my servant? eh? He's gone by rail, ain't he? No one came
+with me. And where's this? What is it? Are you all tongue-tied?--haven't
+you a word among you?"
+
+The clergyman had lifted his hands in terror at the harangue of the old
+man of the "tranquil mind." Alice had taken his thin hand, standing
+beside him, and was speaking softly in his ear. But his prominent brown
+eyes were fiercely scanning the strangers, and the hand which clutched
+hers was trembling with eager fury. "Will some of you say what you mean,
+or what you are doing, or where I am?" and he screeched another sentence
+or two, that made the old clergyman very uncomfortable.
+
+"You arrived here, Sir Reginald, about six hours ago--extremely ill,
+Sir," said the doctor, who had placed himself close to his patient, and
+spoke with official authority; "but we have got you all right again, we
+hope; and this is the 'Royal Oak,' the principal hotel of Twyford, on
+the Dover and London road; and my name is Proby."
+
+"And what's all this?" cried the baronet, snatching up one of the
+medicine-bottles from the little table by his bed, and plucking out the
+cork and smelling at the fluid. "By heaven?" he screamed, "this is the
+very thing. I could not tell what d----d taste was in my mouth, and here
+it is. Why, my doctor tells me--and he knows his business--it is as much
+as my life's worth to give me anything like--like that, pah! assafoetida!
+If my stomach is upset with this filthy stuff, I give myself up! I'm
+gone. I shall sink, Sir. Was there no one here, in the name of Heaven,
+with a grain of sense or a particle of pity, to prevent that beast from
+literally poisoning me? Egad! I'll make my son punish him! I'll make my
+family hang him if I die!" There was a quaver of misery in his shriek of
+fury, as if he was on the point of bursting into tears. "Doctor, indeed!
+who sent for him? I didn't. Who gave him leave to drug me? Upon my soul,
+I've been poisoned. To think of a creature in my state, dependent on
+nourishment every hour, having his digestion destroyed! Doctor, indeed!
+Pay him? Not I, begad," and he clenched his sentence with an ugly
+expletive.
+
+But all this concluding eloquence was lost upon the doctor, who had
+mentioned, in a lofty "aside" to Miss Arden, that "unless sent for he
+should not call again;" and with a marked politeness to her, and no
+recognition whatever of the baronet, he had taken his departure.
+
+"I'm not the doctor, Sir Reginald; I'm the clergyman," said the Reverend
+Peter Sprott, gravely and timidly, for the prominent brown eyes were
+threatening him.
+
+"Oh, the clergyman! Oh, I see. Will you be so good as to ring the bell,
+please, and excuse a sick man giving you that trouble. And is there a
+post-office near this?"
+
+"Yes, Sir--close by."
+
+"This is you, Alice? I'm glad you're here. You must write a letter this
+moment--a note to your brother. Don't be afraid--I'm better, a good
+deal--and tell the people, when they come, to get me some strong soup
+this moment, and--good evening, Sir, or good-night, or morning, or
+whatever it is," he added, to the clergyman, who was taking his leave.
+"What o'clock is it?" he asked Alice. "Well, you'll write to your
+brother to meet me at Mortlake. I have not seen him, now, for how many
+years? I forget. He's in town, is he? Very good. And tell him it is
+perhaps the last time, and I expect him. I suppose he'll come. Say at a
+quarter past nine in the evening. The sooner it's over the better. I
+expect no good of it; it is only just to try. And I shall leave this
+early--immediately after breakfast--as quickly as we can. I hate it!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIII.
+
+ON THE ROAD.
+
+
+Next morning the baronet was in high good-humour. He has written a
+little reminder to Lord Wynderbroke. He will expect him at Mortlake the
+day he named, to dinner. He remembers he promised to stay the night. He
+can offer him, still, as good a game of piquet as he is likely to find
+in his club; and he almost feels that he has no excuse but a selfish
+one, for exacting the performance of a promise which gave him a great
+deal of pleasure. His daughter, who takes care of her old father, will
+make their tea and--_voila tout!_
+
+Sir Reginald was in particularly good spirits as he sent the waiter to
+the post-office with this little note. He thinks within himself that he
+never saw Alice in such good looks. His selfish elation waxes quite
+affectionate, and Alice never remembered him so good-natured. She
+doesn't know what to make of it exactly; but it pleases her, and she
+looks all the more brilliant.
+
+And now these foreign birds, whom a chance storm has thrown upon the
+hospitality of the "Royal Oak," are up and away again. The old baronet
+and his pretty daughter, Louisa Diaper sitting behind, in cloaks and
+rugs, and the footman in front, to watch the old man's signals, are
+whirling dustily along with a team of four horses; for Sir Reginald's
+arrangements are never economical, and a pair would have brought them
+over these short stages and home very nearly as fast. Lady May's
+carriage pleases the old man, and helps his transitory good-humour: it
+is so much more luxurious than the jolty hired vehicle in which he had
+arrived.
+
+Alice is permitted her thoughts to herself. The baronet has taken his
+into companionship, and is leaning back in his corner, with his eyes
+closed; and his pursed mouth, with its wonderful involution of wrinkles
+round it, is working unconsciously; and his still dark eyebrows, now
+elevating, now knitting themselves, indicate the same activity of brain.
+
+With a silent look now and then at his face--for she need not ask
+whether Sir Reginald wants anything, or would like anything changed, for
+the baronet needs no inquiries of this kind, and makes people speedily
+acquainted with his wants and fancies--she occupies her place beside
+him, for the most part looking out listlessly from the window, and
+thinks of many things. The baronet opens his eyes at last, and says
+abruptly,
+
+"Charming prospect! Charming day! You'll be glad to hear, Alice, I'm not
+tired; I'm making my journey wonderfully! It is so pretty, and the sun
+so cheery. You are looking so well, it is quite a pleasure to look at
+you--charming! You'll come to me at Mortlake for a few days, to take
+care of me, you know. I shall go on to Buxton in a week or so, and you
+can return to Lady May to-night, and come to Mortlake shortly; and your
+brother, graceless creature! I suppose, will come to-night. I expect
+nothing from his visit, absolutely. He has been nothing to me but a
+curse all his life. I suppose, if there's justice anywhere, he'll have
+his deserts some day. But for the present I put him aside--I sha'n't
+speak of him. He disturbs me."
+
+They drove through London over Westminster Bridge, the servant thinking
+that they were to go to Lady May Penrose's in Chester Terrace. It was
+the first time that day, since he had talked of his son, that a black
+shadow crossed Sir Reginald's face. He shrunk back. He drew up his
+Chinese silk muffler over his chin. He was fearful lest some prowling
+beak or eagle-eyed Jew should see his face, for Sir Reginald was just
+then in danger. Glancing askance under the peak of his travelling cap,
+he saw Talkington, with Wynderbroke on his arm, walking to their club.
+How free and fearless those happy mortals looked! How the old man
+yearned for his chat and his glass of wine at B----'s, and his afternoon
+whist at W----'s! How he chafed and blasphemed inwardly at the invisible
+obstacle that insurmountably interposed, and with what a fiery sting of
+malice he connected the idea of his son with the fetters that bound him!
+
+"You know that man?" said Sir Reginald sharply, as he saw Mr. Longcluse
+raise his hat to her as they passed.
+
+"Yes, I've met him pretty often at Lady May's."
+
+"H'm! I had not an idea that anyone knew him. He's a man who might be of
+use to one."
+
+Here followed a silence.
+
+"I thought, papa, you wished to go direct to Mortlake, and I don't think
+this is the way," suggested Alice.
+
+"Eh? heigho! You're right, child; upon my life, I was not thinking,"
+said Sir Reginald, at the same time signalling vehemently to the
+servant, who, having brought the carriage to a stand-still, came round
+to the window.
+
+"We don't stop anywhere in town, we go straight to Mortlake Hall. It is
+beyond Islington. Have you ever been there? Well, you can tell them how
+to reach it."
+
+And Sir Reginald placed himself again in his corner. They had not
+started early, and he had frequently interrupted their journey on
+various whimsical pretexts. He remembered one house, for instance, where
+there was a stock of the very best port he had ever tasted, and then he
+stopped and went in, and after a personal interview with the proprietor,
+had a bottle opened, and took two glasses, and so paid at the rate of
+half a guinea each for them. It had been an interrupted journey, late
+begun, and the sun was near its setting by the time they had got a mile
+beyond the outskirts of Islington, and were drawing near the singular
+old house where their journey was to end.
+
+Always with a melancholy presentiment, Alice approached Mortlake Hall.
+But never had she felt it more painfully than now. If there be in such
+misgivings a prophetic force, was it to be justified by the coming
+events of Miss Arden's life, which were awfully connected with that
+scene?
+
+They passed a quaint little village of tall stone houses, among great
+old trees, with a rural and old-world air, and an ancient inn, with the
+sign of "Guy of Warwick"--an inn of which we shall see more
+by-and-by--faded, and like the rest of this little town, standing under
+the shadow of old trees. They entered the road, dark with double
+hedge-rows, and with a moss-grown park-wall on the right, in which, in a
+little time, they reached a great iron gate with fluted pillars. They
+drove up a broad avenue, flanked with files of gigantic trees, and
+showing grand old timber also upon the park-like grounds beyond. The
+dusky light of evening fell upon these objects, and the many windows,
+the cornices, and the smokeless chimneys of a great old house. You might
+have fancied yourself two hundred miles away from London.
+
+"You don't stay here to-night, Alice. I wish you to return to Lady May,
+and give her the note I am going to write. You and she come out to dine
+here on Friday. If she makes a difficulty, I rely on you to persuade
+her. I must have someone to meet Mr. Longcluse. I have reasons. Also, I
+shall ask my brother David, and his ward Miss Maubray. I knew her
+father: he was a fool, with his head full of romance, and he married a
+very pretty woman who was a devil, without a shilling on earth. The girl
+is an orphan, and David is her guardian, and he would like any little
+attention we can show her. And we shall ask Vivian Darnley also. And
+that will make a very suitable party."
+
+Sir Reginald wrote his note, talking at intervals.
+
+"You see, I want Lady May to come here again in a day or two, to stay
+only for two or three days. She can go into town and remain there all
+day, if she likes it. But Wynderbroke will be coming, and I should not
+like him to find us quite deserted; and she said she'd come, and she may
+as well do it now as another time. David lives so quietly, we are sure
+of him; and I commit May Penrose to you. You must persuade her to come.
+It will be cruel to disappoint. Here is her note--I will send the others
+myself. And now, God bless you, dear Alice!"
+
+"I am so uncomfortable at the idea of leaving you, papa." Her hand was
+on his arm, and she was looking anxiously into his face.
+
+"So of course you should be; only that I am so perfectly recovered, that
+I must have a quiet evening with Richard; and I prefer your being in
+town to-night, and you and May Penrose can come out to-morrow. Good-bye,
+child, God bless you!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIV.
+
+MR. LONGCLUSE'S BOOT FINDS A TEMPORARY ASYLUM.
+
+
+In the papers of that morning had appeared a voluminous report of the
+proceedings of the coroner's inquest which sat upon the body of the
+deceased Pierre Lebas. I shall notice but one passage referring to the
+evidence which, it seems, Mr. Longcluse volunteered. It was given in
+these terms:--
+
+"At this point of the proceedings, Mr. R. D. Longcluse, who had arrived
+about half an hour before, expressed a wish to be examined. Mr.
+Longcluse was accordingly sworn, and deposed that he had known the
+deceased, Pierre Lebas, when he (Mr. Longcluse) was little more than a
+boy, in Paris. Lebas at that time let lodgings, which were neat and
+comfortable, in the Rue Victoire. He was a respectable and obliging man.
+He had some other occupation besides that of letting lodgings, but he
+(Mr. Longcluse) could not say what it might be." Then followed
+particulars with which we are already acquainted; and the report went on
+to say: "He seemed surprised when witness told him that there might be
+in the room persons of the worst character; and he then, in considerable
+alarm, pointed out to him (witness) a man who was and had been following
+him from place to place, he fancied with a purpose. Witness observed the
+man and saw him watch deceased, turning his eyes repeatedly upon him.
+The man had no companions, so far as he could see, and affected to be
+looking in a different direction. It was sideways and stealthily that he
+was watching deceased, who had incautiously taken out and counted some
+of his money in the room. Deceased did not conceal from the witness his
+apprehensions from this man, and witness advised him again to place his
+money in the hands of some friend who had a secure pocket, and
+recommended, in case his friend should object to take so much money into
+his care--Lebas having said he had a large sum about him--under the gaze
+of the public, that he should make the transfer in the smoking-room, the
+situation of which he described to him. Mr. Longcluse then proceeded to
+give an exact description of the man who had been dogging the deceased;
+the particulars were as follows:--"
+
+Here I arrest my quotation, for I need not recapitulate the details of
+the tall man's features, dress, and figure, which are already familiar
+to the reader.
+
+                   *       *       *       *       *
+
+In a court off High Holborn there was, and perhaps is, a sort of
+coffee-shop, in the small drawing-rooms of which, thrown into one room,
+are many small and homely tables, with penny and halfpenny papers, and
+literature with startling woodcuts. Here working mechanics and others
+snatch a very early breakfast, and take their dinners, and such as can
+afford time loiter their half-hour or so over this agreeable literature.
+One penny morning paper visited that place of refection, for three hours
+daily, and then flitted away to keep an appointment elsewhere. It was
+this dull time in that peculiar establishment--namely, about nine
+o'clock in the morning--and there was but one listless guest in the
+room. It was the identical tall man in question. His flat feet were
+planted on the bare floor, and he leaned a shoulder against the
+window-case, with a plug of tobacco in his jaw, as, at his leisure, he
+was getting through the coroner's inquest on Pierre Lebas. He was
+smiling with half-closed eyes and considerable enjoyment, up to the
+point where Mr. Longcluse's evidence was suddenly directed upon him.
+There was a twitching scowl, as if from a sudden pain; but his smile
+continued from habit, although his face grew paler. This man, whose name
+was Paul Davies, winked hard with his left eye, as he got on, and read
+fiercely with his right. His face was whiter now, and his smile less
+easy. It was a queerish situation, he thought, and might lead to
+consequences.
+
+There was a little bit of a looking-glass, picked up at some rubbishy
+auction, as old as the hills, with some tarnished gilding about it, in
+the narrow bit of wall between the windows. Paul Davies could look at
+nothing quite straight. He looked now at himself in this glass, but it
+was from the corners of his eyes, askance, and with his sly, sleepy
+depression of the eye-lids, as if he had not overmuch confidence even in
+his own shadow. He folded the morning paper, and laid it, with formal
+precision, on the table, as if no one had disturbed it; and taking up
+the _Halfpenny Illustrated Broadsheet of Fiction_, and with it
+flourishing in his hand by the corner, he called the waiter over the
+bannister, and paid his reckoning, and went off swiftly to his garret in
+another court, a quarter of a mile nearer to Saint Paul's--taking an
+obscure and devious course through back-lanes and sequestered courts.
+
+When he got up to his garret, Mr. Davies locked his door and sat down on
+the side of his creaking settle-bed, and, in his playful phrase, "put on
+his considering cap."
+
+"That's a dangerous cove, that Mr. Longcluse. He's done a bold stroke.
+And now it's him or me, I do suppose--him or me; me or him. Come, Paul,
+shake up your knowledge-box; I'll not lose this cast simple. He's gave a
+description of me. The force will know it. And them feet o' mine, they
+_are_ a bit flat: but any chap can make a pair of insteps with a
+penn'orth o' rags. I wouldn't care tuppence if it wasn't for them
+pock-marks. There's no managing them. A scar or a wart you may touch
+over with paint and sollible gutta-percha, or pink wafers and gelatine,
+but pock-marks is too many for any man."
+
+He was looking with some anxiety in the triangular fragment of
+looking-glass--balanced on a nail in the window-case--at his features.
+
+"I can take off them whiskers; and the long neck he makes so much of, if
+it was as long as an oystrich, with fourpenn'orth of cotton waste and a
+cabbage-net, I'd make a bull of it, and run my shoulders up to my ears.
+I'll take the whiskers off, anyhow. That's no treason; and he mayn't
+identify me. If I'm not had up for a fortnight my hair would be grew a
+bit, and that would be a lift. But a fellow must think twice before he
+begins disguisin'. Juries smells a rat. Howsomever, a cove may shave,
+and no harm done; or his hair may grow a bit, and how can he help it?
+Longcluse knows what he's about. He's a sharp lad, but for all that Paul
+Davies 'ill sweat him yet."
+
+Mr. Davies turned the button of his old-fashioned window, and let it
+down. He shut out his two scarlet geraniums, which accompanied him in
+all his changes from one lodging to another.
+
+"Suppose he tries the larceny--that's another thing he may do, seeing
+what my lay is. It wouldn't do to lose that thing; no more would it
+answer to let them find it."
+
+This last idea seemed to cause Paul Davies a good deal of serious
+uneasiness. He began looking about at the walls, low down near the
+skirting, and up near the ceiling, tapping now and then with his
+knuckles, and sounding the plaster as a doctor would the chest of a
+wheezy patient. He was not satisfied. He scratched his head, and fiddled
+with his ear, and plucked his short nose dubiously, and winked hard at
+his geraniums through the window.
+
+Paul Davies knew that the front garret was not let. He opened his door
+and listened. Then he entered that room. I think he had a notion of
+changing his lodgings, if only he could find what he wanted. That was
+such a hiding-place as professional seekers were not likely to discover.
+But he could not satisfy himself.
+
+A thought struck him, however, and he went into the lobby again; he got
+on a chair and pushed open the skylight, and out went Mr. Davies on the
+roof. He looked and poked about here. He looked to the neighbouring
+roofs, lest any eye should be upon him; but there was no one. A maid
+hanging clothes upon a line, on a sort of balcony, midway down the next
+house, was singing, "The Ratcatcher's Daughter," he thought rather
+sweetly--so well, indeed, that he listened for two whole verses--but
+that did not signify.
+
+Paul Davies kneeled down, and loosed and removed, one after the other,
+several slates near the lead gutter, between the gables; and, having
+made a sufficient opening in the roof for his purpose, he returned, let
+himself down lightly through the skylight, entered his room, and locked
+himself up. He then unlocked his trunk and took from under his clothes,
+where it lay, a French boot--the veritable boot of Mr. Longcluse--which,
+for greater security, he popped under the coarse coverlet of his bed. He
+next took from his trunk a large piece of paper which, being unfolded at
+the window, disclosed a rude drawing with a sentence or two underneath,
+and three signatures, with a date preceding.
+
+Having read this document over twice or thrice, with a rather menacing
+smile, he rolled it up in brown paper and thrust it into the foot of the
+boot, which he popped under the coverlet and bolster. He then opened his
+door wide. Too long a silence might possibly have seemed mysterious, and
+called up prying eyes, so, while he filled his pipe with tobacco, he
+whistled, "Villikins and his Dinah" lustily. He was very cautious about
+this boot and paper. He got on his great-coat and felt hat, and took his
+pipe and some matches--the enjoying a quiet smoke without troubling
+others with the perfume was a natural way of accounting for his visit to
+the roof. He listened. He slipped his boot and its contents into his
+capacious great-coat pocket, with a rag of old carpet tied round it; and
+then, whistling still cheerily, he mounted the roof again, and placed
+the precious parcel within the roof, which he, having some skill as a
+slater, proceeded carefully and quickly to restore.
+
+Down came Mr. Davies now, and shaved off his whiskers. Then he walked
+out, with a bundle consisting of the coat, waistcoat, and blue necktie
+he had worn on the evening of Lebas's murder. He was going to pay a
+visit to his mother, a venerable greengrocer, who lived near the Tower
+of London; and on his way he pledged these articles at two distinct and
+very remote pawnbrokers', intending on his return to release, with the
+proceeds, certain corresponding articles of his wardrobe, now in ward in
+another establishment. These measures of obliteration he was taking
+quietly. His visit to his mother, a very honest old woman, who believed
+him to be the most virtuous, agreeable, and beautiful young man extant,
+was made with a very particular purpose.
+
+"Well, Ma'am," he said, in reply to the old lady's hospitable greeting,
+"I won't refuse a pot of half-and-half and a couple of eggs, and I'll go
+so far as a cut or two of bacon, bein' 'ungry; and I'm a-goin' to write
+a paper of some consequence, if you'll obleege me with a sheet of
+foolscap and a pen and ink; and I may as well write it while the things
+is a-gettin' ready, accordin' to your kind intentions."
+
+And accordingly Mr. Paul Davies sat in silence, looking very
+important--as he always did when stationery was before him--at a small
+table, in a dark back room, and slowly penned a couple of pages of
+foolscap.
+
+"And now," said he, producing the document after his repast, "will you
+be so good, Ma'am, as to ask Mr. Sildyke and Mrs. Rumble to come down
+and witness my signing of this, which I mean to leave it in your hands
+and safe keepin', under lock and key, until I take it away, or otherwise
+tells you what you must do with it. It is a police paper, Ma'am, and may
+be wanted any time. But you keep it dark till I tells you."
+
+This settled, Mr. Sildyke and Mrs. Rumble arrived obligingly; and Paul
+Davies, with an adroit wink at his mother--who was a little shocked and
+much embarrassed by the ruse, being a truth-loving woman--told them that
+here was his last will and testament, and he wanted only that they
+should witness his signature; which, with the date, was duly
+accomplished. Paul Davies was, indeed, a man of that genius which
+requires to proceed by stratagem, cherishing an abhorrence of straight
+lines, and a picturesque love of the curved and angular. So, if Mr.
+Longcluse was doing his duty at one end of the town, Mr. Davies, at the
+other, was by no means wanting in activity, or, according to the level
+of his intellect and experience, in wisdom.
+
+We have recurred to these scenes in which Mr. Paul Davies figures,
+because it was indispensable to the reader's right understanding of some
+events that follow. Be so good, then, as to find Sir Reginald exactly
+where I left him, standing on the steps of Mortlake Hall. His daughter
+would have stayed, but he would not hear of it. He stood on the steps,
+and smirked a yellow and hollow farewell, waving his hand as the
+carriage drove away. Then he turned and entered the lofty hall, in which
+the light was already failing.
+
+Sir Reginald did not like the trouble of mounting the stairs. His
+bed-room and sitting-room were on a level with the hall. As soon as he
+came in, the gloom of his old prison-house began to overshadow him, and
+his momentary cheer and good-humour disappeared.
+
+"Where is Tansey? I suppose she's in her bed, or grumbling in
+toothache," he snarled to the footman. "And where the devil's Crozier? I
+have the fewest and the worst servants, I believe, of any man in
+England."
+
+He poked open the door of his sitting-room with the point of his
+walking-stick.
+
+"Nothing ready, I dare swear," he quavered, and shot a peevish and fiery
+glance round it.
+
+Things were not looking quite so badly as he expected. There was just
+the little bit of expiring fire in the grate which he liked, even in
+summer. His sealskin slippers were on the hearth-rug, and his easy-chair
+was pushed into its proper place.
+
+"Ha! Crozier, at last! Here, get off this coat, and these mufflers,
+and---- I was d----d near dying in that vile chaise. I don't remember
+how they got me into the inn. There, don't mind condoling. You're
+privileged, but don't do that. As near dying as possible--rather an
+awkward business for useless old servants here, if I had. I'll dress in
+the next room. My son's coming this evening. Admit him, mind. I'll see
+him. How long is it since we met last? Two years, egad! And Lord
+Wynderbroke has his dinner here--I don't know what day, but some day
+very soon--Friday, I think; and don't let the people here go to sleep.
+Remember!"
+
+And so on, with his old servant, he talked, and sneered, and snarled,
+and established himself in his sitting-room, with his reviews, and his
+wine, and his newspapers.
+
+Night fell over dark Mortlake Hall, and over the blazing city of London.
+Sir Reginald listened, every now and then, for the approach of his son.
+Talk as he might, he did expect something--and a great deal--from the
+coming interview. Two years without a home, without an allowance, with
+no provision except a hundred and fifty pounds a year, might well have
+tamed that wilful beast!
+
+With the tremor of acute suspense, the old man watched and listened. Was
+it a good or an ill sign, his being so late?
+
+The city of London, with its still roaring traffic and blaze of
+gas-lamps, did not contrast more powerfully with the silent shadows of
+the forest-grounds of Mortlake, than did the drawing-room of Lady May
+Penrose, brilliant with a profusion of light, and resonant with the gay
+conversation of inmates, all disposed to enjoy themselves, with the dim
+and vast room in which Sir Reginald sat silently communing with his own
+dismal thoughts.
+
+Nothing so contagious as gaiety. Alice Arden, laughingly, was "making
+her book" rather prematurely in dozens of pairs of gloves, for the
+Derby. Lord Wynderbroke was deep in it. So was Vivian Darnley.
+
+"Your brother and I are to take the reins, turn about, Lady May says.
+He's a crack whip. He's better than I, I think," said Vivian to Alice
+Arden.
+
+"You mustn't upset us, though. I am so afraid of you crack whips!" said
+Alice. "Nor let your horses run away with us; I've been twice run away
+with already."
+
+"I don't the least wonder at Miss Arden's being run away with very
+often," said Lord Wynderbroke, with all the archness of a polite man of
+fifty.
+
+"Very prettily said, Wynderbroke," smiled Lady May. "And where is your
+brother? I thought he'd have turned up to-night," asked she of Alice.
+
+"I quite forgot. He was to see papa this evening. They wanted to talk
+over something together."
+
+"Oh, I see!" said Lady May, and she became thoughtful.
+
+What was the exact nature of the interest which good Lady May
+undoubtedly took in Richard Arden? Was it quite so motherly as years
+might warrant? At that time people laughed over it, and were curious to
+see the progress of the comedy. Here was light and gaiety--light within,
+lamps without; spirited talk in young anticipation of coming days of
+pleasure; and outside the roll of carriage-wheels making a humming bass
+to this merry treble.
+
+                   *       *       *       *       *
+
+Over the melancholy precincts of Mortlake the voiceless darkness of
+night descends with unmitigated gloom. The centre--the brain of this
+dark place--is the house: and in a large dim room, near the smouldering
+fire, sits the image that haunts rather than inhabits it.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XV.
+
+FATHER AND SON.
+
+
+Sir Reginald Arden had fallen into a doze, as he sat by the fire with
+his _Revue des Deux Mondes_, slipping between his finger and thumb, on
+his knees. He was recalled by Crozier's voice, and looking up, he saw,
+standing near the door, as if in some slight hesitation, a figure not
+seen for two years before.
+
+For a moment Sir Reginald doubted his only half-awakened senses. Was
+that handsome oval face, with large, soft eyes, with such brilliant
+lips, and the dark-brown moustache, so fine, and silken, that had never
+known a razor, an unsubstantial portrait hung in the dim air, or his
+living son? There were perplexity and surprise in the old man's stare.
+
+"I should have been here before, Sir, but your letter did not reach me
+until an hour ago," said Richard Arden.
+
+"By heaven! Dick? And so you came! I believe I was asleep. Give me your
+hand. I hope, Dick, we may yet end this miserable quarrel happily.
+Father and son can have no real interests apart."
+
+Sir Reginald Arden extended his thin hand, and smiled invitingly but
+rather darkly on his son. Graceful and easy this young man was, and yet
+embarrassed, as he placed his hand within his father's.
+
+"You will take something, Dick, won't you?"
+
+"Nothing, Sir, thanks."
+
+Sir Reginald was stealthily reading his face. At last he began
+circuitously--
+
+"I've a little bit of news to tell you about Alice. How long shall I
+allow you to guess what it is?"
+
+"I'm the worst guesser in the world--pray don't wait for me, Sir."
+
+"Well, I have in my desk there--would you mind putting it on the table
+here?--a letter from Wynderbroke. You know him?"
+
+"Yes, a little."
+
+"Well, Wynderbroke writes--the letter arrived only an hour ago--to ask
+my leave to marry your sister, if she will consent; and he says all he
+will do, which is very handsome--very generous indeed. Wait a moment.
+Yes, here it is. Read that."
+
+Richard Arden did read the letter, with open eyes and breathless
+interest. The old man's eyes were upon him as he did so.
+
+"Well, Richard, what do you think?"
+
+"There can be but one opinion about it. Nothing can be more handsome.
+Everything suitable. I only hope that Alice will not be foolish."
+
+"She sha'n't be that, I'll take care," said the old man, locking down
+his desk again upon the letter.
+
+"It might possibly be as well, Sir, to prepare her a little at first. I
+may possibly be of some little use, and so may Lady May. I only mean
+that it might hardly be expedient to make it from the first a matter of
+authority, because she has romantic ideas, and she is spirited."
+
+"I'll sleep upon it. I sha'n't see her again till to-morrow evening. She
+does not care about anyone in particular, I suppose?"
+
+"Not that I know of," said Richard.
+
+"You'll find it will all be right--it _will_--all right. It _shall_ be
+right," said Sir Reginald. And then there was a silence. He was
+meditating the other business he had in hand, and again circuitously he
+proceeded.
+
+"What's going on at the opera? Who is your great danseuse at present?"
+inquired the baronet, with a glimmer of a leer. "I haven't seen a ballet
+for more than six years. And why? I needn't tell you. You know the
+miserable life I lead. Egad! there are fellows placed everywhere to
+watch me. There would be an execution in this house this night, if the
+miserable tables and chairs were not my brother David's property. Upon
+my life, Craven, my attorney, had to serve two notices on the sheriff in
+one term, to caution him not to sell your uncle's furniture for my
+debts. I shouldn't have had a joint-stool to sit down on, if it hadn't
+been for that. And I had to get out of the railway-carriage, by heaven!
+for fear of arrest, and come home--if home I can call this ruin--by
+posting all the way, except a few miles. I did not dare to tell Craven I
+was coming back. I wrote from Twyford, where I--I--took a fancy to sleep
+last night, to no human being but yourself. My comfort is that they and
+all the world believe that I'm still in France. It is a pleasant state
+of things!"
+
+"I am grieved, Sir, to think you suffer so much."
+
+"I know it. I knew it. I know you are, Dick," said the old man eagerly.
+"And my life is a perfect hell. I can nowhere in England find rest for
+the sole of my foot. I am suffering perpetually the most miserable
+mortifications, and the tortures of the damned. I know you are sorry. It
+can't be pleasant to you to see your father the miserable outcast, and
+fugitive, and victim he so often is. And I'll say distinctly--I'll say
+at once--for it was with this one purpose I sent for you--that no son
+with a particle of human feeling, with a grain of conscience, or an atom
+of principle, could endure to see it, when he knew that by a stroke of
+his pen he could undo it all, and restore a miserable parent to life and
+liberty! Now, Richard, you have my mind. I have concealed nothing, and
+I'm sure, Dick, I know, I _know_ you won't see your father perish by
+inches, rather than sign the warrant for his liberation. For God's sake,
+Dick, my boy speak out! Have you the heart to reject your miserable
+father's petition? Do you wish me to kneel to you? I love you, Dick,
+although you don't admit it. I'll kneel to you, Dick--I'll kneel to you.
+I'll go on my knees to you."
+
+His hands were clasped; he made a movement. His great prominent eyes
+were fixed on Richard Arden's face, which he was reading with a great
+deal of eagerness, it is true, but also with a dark and narrow
+shrewdness.
+
+"Good heaven, Sir, don't stir, I implore! If you do, I must leave the
+room," said Richard, embarrassed to a degree that amounted to agitation.
+"And I must tell you, Sir--it is very painful, but, I could not help it,
+necessity drove me to it--if I were ever so desirous, it is out of my
+power now. I have dealt with my reversion. I have executed a deed."
+
+"You have been with the Jews!" cried the old man, jumping to his feet.
+"You have been dealing, by way of _post obit_, with my estate!"
+
+Richard Arden looked down. Sir Reginald was as nearly white as his
+yellow tint would allow; his large eyes were gleaming fire--he looked as
+if he would have snatched the poker, and brained his son.
+
+"But what could I do, Sir? I had no other resource. I was forbidden your
+house; I had no money."
+
+"You lie, Sir!" yelled the old man, with a sudden flash, and a hammer of
+his thin trembling fist on the table. "You had a hundred and fifty
+pounds a year of your mother's."
+
+"But that, Sir, could not possibly support any one. I was compelled to
+act as I did. You really, Sir, left me no choice."
+
+"Now, now, now, now, now! you're not to run away with the thing, you're
+not to run away with it; you sha'n't run away with it, Sir. You could
+have made a submission, you know you could. I was open to be reconciled
+at any time--always too ready. You had only to do as you ought to have
+done, and I'd have received you with open arms; you know I would--I
+_would_--you had only to unite our interests in the estates, and I'd
+have done everything to make you happy, and you know it. But you have
+taken the step--you have done it, and it is irrevocable. You have done
+it, and you've ruined me; and I pray to God you have ruined yourself!"
+
+With every sinew quivering, the old man was pulling the bell-rope
+violently with his left hand. Over his shoulder, on his son, he glanced
+almost maniacally. "Turn him out!" he screamed to Crozier, stamping;
+"put him out by the collar. Shut the door upon him, and lock it; and if
+he ever dares to call here again, slam it in his face. I have done with
+him for ever!"
+
+Richard Arden had already left the room, and this closing passage was
+lost on him. But he heard the old man's voice as he walked along the
+corridor, and it was still in his ears as he passed the hall-door; and,
+running down the steps, he jumped into his cab. Crozier held the
+cab-door open, and wished Mr. Richard a kind good-night. He stood on the
+steps to see the last of the cab as it drove down the shadowy avenue and
+was lost in gloom. He sighed heavily. What a broken family it was! He
+was an old servant, born on their northern estate--loyal, and somewhat
+rustic--and, certainly, had the baronet been less in want of money, not
+exactly the servant he would have chosen.
+
+"The old gentleman cannot last long," he said, as he followed the sound
+of the retreating wheels with his gaze, "and then Master Richard will
+take his turn, and what one began the other will finish. It is all up
+with the Ardens. Sir Reginald ruined, Master Harry murdered, and Master
+David turned tradesman! There's a curse on the old house."
+
+He heard the baronet's tread faintly, pacing the floor in agitation, as
+he passed his door; and when he reached the housekeeper's room, that old
+lady, Mrs. Tansey, was alone and all of a tremble, standing at the door.
+Before her dim staring eyes had risen an oft-remembered scene: the
+ivy-covered gatehouse at Mortlake Hall; the cold moon glittering down
+through the leafless branches; the grey horse on its side across the
+gig-shaft, and the two villains--one rifling and the other murdering
+poor Henry Arden, the baronet's gay and reckless brother.
+
+"Lord, Mr. Crozier! what's crossed Sir Reginald?" she said huskily,
+grasping the servant's wrist with her lean hand. "Master Dick, I do
+suppose. I thought he was to come no more. They quarrel always. I'm like
+to faint, Mr. Crozier."
+
+"Sit ye down, Mrs. Tansey, Ma'am; you should take just a thimbleful of
+something. What has frightened you?"
+
+"There's a scritch in Sir Reginald's voice--mercy on us!--when he raises
+it so; it is the very cry of poor Master Harry--his last cry, when the
+knife pierced him. I'll never forget it!"
+
+The old woman clasped her fingers over her eyes, and shook her head
+slowly.
+
+"Well, that's over and ended this many a day, and past cure. We need not
+fret ourselves no more about it--'tis thirty years since."
+
+"Two-and-twenty the day o' the Longden steeple-chase. I've a right to
+remember it." She closed her eyes again. "Why can't they keep apart?"
+she resumed. "If father and son can't look one another in the face
+without quarrelling, better they should turn their backs on one another
+for life. Why need they come under one roof? The world's wide enough."
+
+"So it is--and no good meeting and argufying; for Mr. Dick will never
+open the estate," remarked Mr. Crozier.
+
+"And more shame for him!" said Mrs. Tansey. "He's breaking his father's
+heart. It troubles him more," she added in a changed tone, "I'm
+thinking, than ever poor Master Harry's death did. There's none living
+of his kith or kin cares about it now but Master David. He'll never let
+it rest while he lives."
+
+"He _may_ let it rest, for he'll never make no hand of it," said
+Crozier. "Would you object, Ma'am, to my making a glass of something
+hot?--you're gone very pale."
+
+Mrs. Tansey assented, and the conversation grew more comfortable. And so
+the night closed over the passions and the melancholy of Mortlake Hall.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVI.
+
+A MIDNIGHT MEETING.
+
+
+A couple of days passed; and now I must ask you to suppose yourself
+placed, at night, in the centre of a vast heath, undulating here and
+there like a sea arrested in a ground-swell, lost in a horizon of
+monotonous darkness all round. Here and there rises a scrubby hillock of
+furze, black and rough as the head of a monster. The eye aches as it
+strains to discover objects or measure distances over the blurred and
+black expanse. Here stand two trees pretty close together--one in thick
+foliage, a black elm, with a funereal and plume-like stillness, and
+blotting out many stars with its gigantic canopy; the other, about fifty
+paces off, a withered and half barkless fir, with one white branch left,
+stretching forth like the arm of a gibbet. Nearly under this is a flat
+rock, with one end slanting downwards, and half buried in the ferns and
+the grass that grow about that spot. One other fir stands a little way
+off, smaller than these two trees, which in daylight are conspicuous far
+away as landmarks on a trackless waste. Overhead the stars are blinking,
+but the desolate landscape lies beneath in shapeless obscurity, like
+drifts of black mist melting together into one wide vague sea of
+darkness that forms the horizon. Over this comes, in fitful moanings, a
+melancholy wind. The eye stretches vainly to define the objects that
+fancy sometimes suggests, and the ear is strained to discriminate the
+sounds, real or unreal, that seem to mingle in the uncertain distance.
+
+If you can conjure up all this, and the superstitious freaks that in
+such a situation imagination will play in even the hardest and coarsest
+natures, you have a pretty distinct idea of the feelings and
+surroundings of a tall man who lay that night his length under the
+blighted tree I have mentioned, stretched on its roots, with his chin
+supported on his hands, and looking vaguely into the darkness. He had
+been smoking, but his pipe was out now, and he had no occupation but
+that of forming pictures on the dark back-ground, and listening to the
+moan and rush of the distant wind, and imagining sometimes a voice
+shouting, sometimes the drumming of a horse's hoofs approaching over the
+plain. There was a chill in the air that made this man now and then
+shiver a little, and get up and take a turn back and forward, and stamp
+sharply as he did so, to keep the blood stirring in his legs and feet.
+Then down he would lay again, with his elbows on the ground, and his
+hands propping his chin. Perhaps he brought his head near the ground,
+thinking that thus he could hear distant sounds more sharply. He was
+growing impatient, and well he might.
+
+The moon now began to break through the mist in fierce red over the far
+horizon. A streak of crimson, that glowed without illuminating anything,
+showed through the distant cloud close along the level of the heath.
+Even this was a cheer, like a red ember or two in a pitch-dark room.
+Very far away he thought now he heard the tread of a horse. One can hear
+miles away over that level expanse of death-like silence. He pricked his
+ears, he raised himself on his hands, and listened with open mouth. He
+lost the sound, but on leaning his head again to the ground, that vast
+sounding-board carried its vibration once more to his ear. It was the
+canter of a horse upon the heath. He was doubtful whether it was
+approaching, for the sound subsided sometimes; but afterwards it was
+renewed, and gradually he became certain that it was coming nearer. And
+now, like a huge, red-hot dome of copper, the moon rose above the level
+strips of cloud that lay upon the horizon of the heath, and objects
+began to reveal themselves. The stunted fir, that had looked to the
+fancy of the solitary watcher like a ghostly policeman, with arm and
+truncheon raised, just starting in pursuit, now showed some lesser
+branches, and was more satisfactorily a tree; distances became
+measurable, though not yet accurately, by the eye; and ridges and
+hillocks caught faintly the dusky light, and threw blurred but deep
+shadows backward.
+
+The tread of the horse approaching had become a gallop as the light
+improved, and horse and horseman were soon visible. Paul Davies stood
+erect, and took up a position a few steps in advance of the blighted
+tree at whose foot he had been stretched. The figure, seen against the
+dusky glare of the moon, would have answered well enough for one of
+those highwaymen who in old times made the heath famous. His low-crowned
+felt hat, his short coat with a cape to it, and the leather casings,
+which looked like jack-boots, gave this horseman, seen in dark outline
+against the glow, a character not unpicturesque. With a sudden strain of
+the bridle, the gaunt rider pulled up before the man who awaited him.
+
+"What are you doing there?" said the horseman roughly.
+
+"Counting the stars," answered he.
+
+Thus the signs and countersigns were exchanged, and the stranger said--
+
+"You're alone, Paul Davies, I take it."
+
+"No company but ourselves, mate," answered Davies.
+
+"You're up to half a dozen dodges, Paul, and knows how to lime a twig;
+that's your little game, you know. This here tree is clean enough, but
+that 'ere has a hatful o' leaves on it."
+
+"I didn't put them there," said Paul, a little sulkily.
+
+"Well, no. I do suppose a sight o' you wouldn't exactly put a tree in
+leaf, or a rose-bush in blossom; nor even make wegitables grow. More
+like to blast 'em, like that rum un over your head."
+
+"What's up?" asked the ex-detective.
+
+"Jest this--there's leaves enough for a bird to roost there, so this
+won't do. Now, then, move on you with me."
+
+As the gaunt rider thus spoke, his long red beard was blowing this way
+and that in the breeze; and he turned his horse, and walked him towards
+that lonely tree in which, as he lay gazing on its black outline, Paul
+had fancied the shape of a phantom policeman.
+
+"I don't care a cuss," said Davies. "I'm half sorry I came a leg to meet
+yer."
+
+"Growlin', eh?" said the horseman.
+
+"I wish you was as cold as me, and you'd growl a bit, maybe, yourself,"
+said Paul. "I'm jolly cold."
+
+"Cold, are ye?"
+
+"Cold as a lock-up."
+
+"Why didn't ye fetch a line o' the old author with you?" asked the
+rider--meaning brandy.
+
+"I had a pipe or two."
+
+"Who'd a-guessed we was to have a night like this in summer-time?"
+
+"I do believe it freezes all the year round in this queer place."
+
+"Would ye like a drop of the South-Sea mountain (gin)?" said the
+stranger, producing a flask from his pocket, which Paul Davies took with
+a great deal of good-will, much to the donor's content, for he wished to
+find that gentleman in good-humour in the conversation that was to
+follow.
+
+"Drink what's there, mate. D'ye like it?"
+
+"It ain't to be by no means sneezed at," said Paul Davies.
+
+The horseman looked back over his shoulder. Paul Davies remarked that
+his shoulders were round enough to amount almost to a deformity. He and
+his companion were now a long way from the tree whose foliage he feared
+might afford cover to some eavesdropper.
+
+"This tree will answer. I suppose you like a post to clap your back to
+while we are palaverin'," said the rider. "Make a finish of it, Mr.
+Davies," he continued, as that person presented the half-emptied flask
+to his hand. "I'm as hot as steam, myself, and I'd rather have a smoke
+by-and-by."
+
+He touched the bridle here, and the horse stood still, and the rider
+patted his reeking neck, as he stooped with a shake of his ears and a
+snort, and began to sniff the scant herbage at his feet.
+
+"I don't mind if I have another pull," said Paul, replenishing the
+goblet that fitted over the bottom of the flask.
+
+"Fill it again, and no heel-taps," said his companion.
+
+Mr. Davies sat down, with his mug in his hand, on the ground, and his
+back against the tree. Had there been a donkey near, to personate the
+immortal Dapple, you might have fancied, in that uncertain gloom, the
+Knight and Squire of La Mancha overtaken by darkness, and making one of
+their adventurous bivouacs under the boughs of the tree.
+
+"What you saw in the papers three days ago did give you a twist, I take
+it?" observed the gentleman on horseback, with a grin that made the red
+bristles on his upper lip curl upwards and twist like worms.
+
+"I can't tumble to a right guess what you means," said Mr. Davies.
+
+"Come, Paul, that won't never do. You read every line of that there
+inquest on the French cove at the Saloon, and you have by rote every
+word Mr. Longcluse said. It must be a queer turning of the tables, for a
+clever chap like you to have to look slippy, for fear other dogs should
+lag you."
+
+"'Tain't me that 'ill be looking slippy, as you and me well knows; and
+it's jest because you knows it well you're here. I suppose it ain't for
+love of _me_ quite?" sneered Paul Davies.
+
+"I don't care a rush for Mr. Longcluse, no more nor I care for you; and
+I see he's goin' where he pleases. He made a speech in yesterday's
+paper, at the meetin' at the Surrey Gardens. He was canvassin' for
+Parliament down in Derbyshire a week ago; and he printed a letter to the
+electors only yesterday. He don't care two pins for you."
+
+"A good many rows o' pins, I'm thinkin'," sneered Mr. Davies.
+
+"Thinkin' won't make a loaf, Mr. Davies. Many a man has bin too clever,
+and _thought_ himself into the block-house. You're making too fine a
+game, Mr. Davies; a playin' a bit too much with edged tools, and
+fiddlin' a bit too freely with fire. You'll burn your fingers, and cut
+'em too, do ye mind? unless you be advised, and close the game where you
+stand to win, as I rather think you do now."
+
+"So do I, mate," said Paul Davies, who could play at brag as well as his
+neighbour.
+
+"I'm on another lay, a safer one by a long sight. My maxim is the same
+as yours, 'Grab all you can;' but _I_ do it safe, d'ye see? You are in a
+fair way to end your days on the twister."
+
+"Not if I knows it," said Paul Davies. "I'm afeared o' no man livin'.
+Who can say black's the white o' my eye? Do ye take me for a child? What
+do ye take me for?"
+
+"I take you for the man that robbed and done for the French cove in the
+Saloon. That's the child I take ye for," answered the horseman
+cynically.
+
+"You lie! You don't! You know I han't a pig of his money, and never hurt
+a hair of his head. You say that to rile me, jest."
+
+"Why should I care a cuss whether you're riled or no? Do you think I
+want to get anything out o' yer? I knows everything as well as you do
+yourself. You take me for a queer gill, I'm thinking; that's not my lay.
+I wouldn't wait here while you'd walk round my hoss to have every secret
+you ever know'd."
+
+"A queer gill, mayhap. I think I know you," said Mr. Davies, archly.
+
+"You do, do ye? Well, come, who do you take me for?" said the stranger,
+turning towards him, and sitting erect in the saddle, with his hand on
+his thigh, to afford him the amplest view of his face and figure.
+
+"Then I take you for Mr. Longcluse," said Paul Davies, with a wag of his
+head.
+
+"For Mr. Longcluse!" echoed the horseman, with a boisterous laugh.
+"Well, _there's_ a guess to tumble to! The worst guess I ever heer'd
+made. Did you ever see him? Why, there's not two bones in our two bodies
+the same length, and not two inches of our two faces alike. There's a
+guess for a detective! Be my soul, it's well for you it ain't him, for I
+think he'd a shot ye!"
+
+The rider lifted his hand from his coat-pocket as he said this, but
+there was no weapon in it. Mistaking his intention, however, Paul Davies
+skipped behind the tree, and levelled a revolver at him.
+
+"Down with that, you fool!" cried the horseman. "There's nothing here."
+And he gave his horse the spur, and made him plunge to a little
+distance, as he held up his right hand. "But I'm not such a fool as to
+meet a cove like you without the lead towels, too, in case you should
+try that dodge." And dipping his hand swiftly into his pocket again, he
+also showed in the air the glimmering barrels of a pistol. "If you must
+be pullin' out your barkers every minute, and can't talk like a man,
+where's the good of coming all this way to palaver with a cove. It ain't
+not tuppence to me. Crack away if you likes it, and see who shoots best;
+or, if you likes it better, I don't mind if I get down and try who can
+hit hardest t'other way, and you'll find my fist tastes very strong of
+the hammer."
+
+"I thought you were up for mischief," said Davies, "and I won't be
+polished off simple, that's all. It's best to keep as we are, and no
+nearer; we can hear one another well enough where we stand."
+
+"It's a bargain," said the stranger, "and I don't care a cuss who you
+take me for. I'm not Mr. Longcluse; but you're welcome, if it pleases
+you, to give me his name, and I wish I could have the old bloke's tin as
+easy. Now here's my little game, and I don't find it a bad one. When two
+gentlemen--we'll say, for instance, you and Mr. Longcluse--differs in
+opinion (you says he did a certain thing, and he says he didn't, or goes
+the whole hog and says _you_ did it, and not him), it's plain, if the
+matter is to be settled amigable, it's best to have a man as knows what
+he's about, and can find out the cove as threatens the rich fellow, and
+deal with him handsome, according to circumstances. My terms is
+moderate. I takes five shillins in the pound, and not a pig under; and
+that puts you and I in the same boat, d'ye see? Well, I gets all I can
+out of him, and no harm can happen me, for I'm but a cove a-carryin' of
+messages betwixt you, and the more I gets for you the better for me. I
+settled many a business amigable the last five years that would never
+have bin settled without me. I'm well knowing to some of the swellest
+lawyers in town, and whenever they has a dilikite case, like a gentleman
+threatened with informations or the like, they sends for me, and I
+arranges it amigable, to the satisfacshing of both parties. It's the
+only way to settle sich affairs with good profit and no risk. I have
+spoke to Mr. Longcluse. He was all for having your four bones in the
+block-house, and yourself on the twister; and he's not a cove to be
+bilked out of his tin. But he would not like the bother of your
+cross-charge, either, and I think I could make all square between ye.
+What do you say?"
+
+"How can I tell that you ever set eyes on Mr. Longcluse?" said Davies,
+more satisfied as the conference proceeded that he had misdirected his
+first guess at the identity of the horseman. "How can I tell you're not
+just a-gettin' all you can out o' me, to make what you can of it on your
+own account in that market?"
+
+"That's true, you can't tell, mate."
+
+"And what do I know about you? What's your name?" pursued Paul Davies.
+
+"I forgot my name, I left it at home in the cupboard; and you know
+nothing about me, that's true, excepting what I told you, and you'll
+hear no more."
+
+"I'm too old a bird for that; you're a born genius, only spoilt in the
+baking. I'm thinking, mate, I may as well paddle my own canoe, and sell
+my own secret on my own account. What can you do for me that I can't do
+as well for myself?"
+
+"You don't think that, Paul. You dare not show to Mr. Longcluse, and you
+know he's in a wax; and who can you send to him? You'll make nothing o'
+that brag. Where's the good of talking like a blast to a chap like me?
+Don't you suppose I take all that at its vally? I tell you what, if it
+ain't settled now, you'll see me no more, for I'll not undertake it." He
+pulled up his horse's head, preparatory to starting.
+
+"Well, what's up now?--what's the hurry?" demanded Mr. Davies.
+
+"Why, if this here meetin' won't lead to business, the sooner we two
+parts and gets home again, the less time wasted," answered the cavalier,
+with his hand on the crupper of the saddle, as he turned to speak.
+
+Each seemed to wait for the other to add something.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVII.
+
+MR. LONGCLUSE AT MORTLAKE HALL.
+
+
+"If you let me go this time, Mr. Wheeler, you'll not catch me a-walking
+out here again," said Mr. Davies sourly. "If there's business to be
+done, now's the time."
+
+"Well, I can't make it no plainer--'tis as clear as mud in a
+wine-glass," said the mounted man gaily, and again he shook the bridle
+and hitched himself in the saddle, and the horse stirred uneasily, as he
+added, "Have you any more to say?"
+
+"Well, supposin' I say ay, how soon will it be settled?" said Paul
+Davies, beginning to think better of it.
+
+"These things doesn't take long with a rich cove like Mr. Longcluse.
+It's where they has to scrape it up, by beggin' here and borrowin'
+there, and sellin' this and spoutin' that--there's a wait always. But a
+chap with no end o' tin--that has only to wish and have--that's your
+sort. He swears a bit, and threatens, and stamps, and loses his temper
+summat, ye see; and if I was the prencipal, like you are in this 'ere
+case, and the police convenient, or a poker in his fist, he might make a
+row. But seein' I'm only a messenger like, it don't come to nothin'. He
+claps his hand in his pocket, and outs with the rino, and there's all;
+and jest a bit of paper to sign. But I won't stay here no longer. I'm
+getting a bit cold myself; so it's on or off _now_. Go yourself to
+Longcluse, if you like, and see if you don't catch it. The least you get
+will be seven-penn'orth, for extortin' money by threatenin' a
+prosecution, if he don't hang you for the murder of the Saloon cove. How
+would you like that?"
+
+"It ain't the physic that suits my complaint, guvnor. But I have him
+there. I have the statement wrote, in sure hands, and other hevidence,
+as he may suppose, and dated, and signed by respectable people; and I
+know his dodge. He thinks he came out first with his charge against me,
+but he's out there; and if he _will_ have it, and I split, he'd best
+look slippy."
+
+"And how much do you want? Mind, I'll funk him all I can, though he's a
+wideawake chap; for it's my game to get every pig I can out of him."
+
+"I'll take two thousand pounds, and go to Canada or to New York, my
+passage and expenses being paid, and sign anything in reason he wants;
+and that's the shortest chalk I'll offer."
+
+"Don't you wish you may get it? _I_ do, I know, but I'm thinking you
+might jest as well look for the naytional debt."
+
+"What's your name?" again asked Davies, a little abruptly.
+
+"My name fell out o' window and was broke, last Tuesday mornin'. But
+call me Tom Wheeler, if you can't talk without calling me something."
+
+"Well, Tom, that's the figure," said Davies.
+
+"If you want to deal, speak now," said Wheeler. "If I'm to stand between
+you, I must have a power to close on the best offer I'm like to get. I
+won't do nothing in the matter else-ways."
+
+With this fresh exhortation, the conference on details proceeded; and
+when at last it closed, with something like a definite understanding,
+Tom Wheeler said,--"Mind, Paul Davies, I comes from no one, and I goes
+to no one; and I never seed you in all my days."
+
+"And where are you going?"
+
+"A bit nearer the moon," said the mysterious Mr. Wheeler, lifting his
+hand and pointing towards the red disk, with one of his bearded grins.
+And wheeling his horse suddenly, away he rode at a canter, right toward
+the red moon, against which for a few moments the figure of the
+retreating horse and man showed black and sharp, as if cut out of
+cardboard.
+
+Paul Davies looked after him with his left eye screwed close, as was his
+custom, in shrewd rumination. Before the horseman had got very far, the
+moon passed under the edge of a thick cloud, and the waste was once more
+enveloped in total darkness. In this absolute obscurity the retreating
+figure was instantaneously swallowed, so that the shrewd ex-detective,
+who had learned by rote every article of his dress, and every button on
+it, and could have sworn to every mark on his horse at York Fair, had no
+chance of discovering in the ultimate line of his retreat, any clue to
+his destination. He had simply emerged from darkness, and darkness had
+swallowed him again.
+
+                   *       *       *       *       *
+
+We must now see how Sir Reginald's little dinner-party, not a score of
+miles away, went off only two days later. He was fortunate, seeing he
+had bidden his guests upon very short notice, not one disappointed.
+
+I daresay that Lady May--whose toilet, considering how quiet everything
+was, had been made elaborately--missed a face that would have brightened
+all the rooms for her. But the interview between Richard Arden and his
+father had not, as we know, ended in reconciliation, and Lady May's
+hopes were disappointed, and her toilet labour in vain.
+
+When Lady May entered the room with Alice, she saw standing on the
+hearth-rug, at the far end of the handsome room, a tall and very
+good-looking man of sixty or upwards, chatting with Sir Reginald, one of
+whose feet was in a slipper, and who was sitting in an easy-chair. A
+little bit of fire burned in the grate, for the day had been chill and
+showery. This tall man, with white silken hair, and a countenance kind,
+frank, and thoughtful, with a little sadness in it, was, she had no
+doubt, David Arden, whom she had last seen with silken brown locks, and
+the cheerful aspect of early manhood.
+
+Sir Reginald stood up, with an uncomfortable effort, and, smiling,
+pointed to his slippers in excuse for his limping gait, as he shuffled
+forth across the carpet to meet her, with a good-humoured shrug.
+
+"Wasn't it good of her to come?" said Alice.
+
+"She's better than good," said Sir Reginald, with his thin, yellow
+smile, extending his hand, and leading her to a chair; "it is visiting
+the sick and the halt, and doing real good, for it is a pleasure to see
+her--a pleasure bestowed on a miserable soul who has very few pleasures
+left;" and with his other thin hand he patted gently the fingers of her
+fat hand. "Here is my brother David," continued the baronet. "He says
+you will hardly know him."
+
+"She'll hardly believe it. She was very young when she last saw me, and
+the last ten years have made some changes," said Uncle David, laughing
+gently.
+
+At the baronet's allusion to that most difficult subject, the lapse of
+time, Lady May winced and simpered uneasily; but she expanded gratefully
+as David Arden disposed of it so adroitly.
+
+"We'll not speak of years of change. I knew you instantly," said Lady
+May happily. "And you have been to Vichy, Reginald. What stay do you
+make here?"
+
+"None, almost; my crippled foot keeps me always on a journey. It seems a
+paradox, but so it is. I'm ordered to visit Buxton for a week or so, and
+then I go, for change of air, to Yorkshire."
+
+As Alice entered, she saw the pretty face, the original of the brilliant
+portrait which had haunted her on her night journey to Twyford, and she
+heard a very silvery voice chatting gaily. Mr. Longcluse was leaning on
+the end of the sofa on which Grace Maubray sat; and Vivian Darnley, it
+seemed in high spirits, was standing and laughing nearly before her.
+Alice Arden walked quickly over to welcome her handsome guest. With a
+misgiving and a strange pain at her heart, she saw how much more
+beautiful this young lady had grown. Smiling radiantly, with her hand
+extended, she greeted and kissed her fair kinswoman; and, after a few
+words, sat down for a little beside her; and asked Mr. Longcluse how he
+did; and finally spoke to Vivian Darnley, and then returned to her
+conventional dialogue of welcome and politeness with her cousin--_how_
+cousin, she could not easily have explained.
+
+The young ladies seemed so completely taken up with one another that,
+after a little waiting, the gentlemen fell into a desultory talk, and
+grew gradually nearer to the window. They were talking now of dogs and
+horses, and Mr. Longcluse was stealing rapidly into the good graces of
+the young man.
+
+"When we come up after dinner, you must tell me who these people are,"
+said Grace Maubray, who did not care very much what she said. "That
+young man is a Mr. Vivian, ain't he?"
+
+"No--Darnley," whispered Alice; "Vivian is his Christian name."
+
+"Very romantic names; and, if he really means half he says, he is a very
+romantic person." She laughed.
+
+"What has he been saying?" Alice wondered. But, after all, it was
+possible to be romantic on almost any subject.
+
+"And the other?"
+
+"He's a Mr. Longcluse," answered Alice.
+
+"He's rather clever," said the young lady, with a grave decision that
+amused Alice.
+
+"Do you think so? Well, so do I; that is, I know he can interest one. He
+has been almost everywhere, and he tells things rather pleasantly."
+
+Before they could go any further, Vivian Darnley, turning from the
+window toward the two young ladies, said--"I've just been saying that we
+must try to persuade Lady May to get up that party to the Derby."
+
+"I can place a drag at her disposal," said Mr. Longcluse.
+
+"And a splendid team--I saw them," threw in Darnley.
+
+"There's nothing I should like so much," said Alice. "I've never been to
+the Derby. What do you say, Grace? Can you manage Uncle David?"
+
+"I'll try," said the young lady gaily.
+
+"We must all set upon Lady May," said Alice. "She is so good-natured,
+she can't resist us."
+
+"Suppose we begin now?" suggested Darnley.
+
+"Hadn't we better wait till we have her quite to ourselves? Who knows
+what your papa and your uncle might say?" said Grace Maubray, turning to
+Alice. "I vote for saying nothing to them until Lady May has settled,
+and then they must only submit."
+
+"I agree with you quite," said Alice laughing.
+
+"Sage advice!" said Mr. Longcluse, with a smile; "and there's time
+enough to choose a favourable moment. It comes off exactly ten days from
+this."
+
+"Oh, anything might be done in ten days," said Grace. "I'm sorry it is
+so far away."
+
+"Yes, a great deal might be done in ten days; and a great deal might
+happen in ten days," said Longcluse, listlessly looking down at the
+floor--"a great deal might happen."
+
+He thought he saw Miss Arden's eye turned upon him, curiously and
+quickly, as he uttered this common-place speech, which was yet a little
+odd.
+
+"In this busy world, Miss Arden, there is no such thing as quiet, and no
+one acts without imposing on other people the necessity for action,"
+said Mr. Longcluse; "and I believe that often the greatest changes in
+life are the least anticipated by those who seem to bring them about
+spontaneously."
+
+At this moment, dinner being announced, the little party transferred
+itself to the dining-room, and Miss Arden found herself between Mr.
+Longcluse and Uncle David.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVIII.
+
+THE PARTY IN THE DINING-ROOM.
+
+
+And now, all being seated, began the talk and business of dinner.
+
+"I believe," said Mr. Longcluse, with a laugh, "I am growing
+metaphysical."
+
+"Well, shall I confess, Mr. Longcluse, you do sometimes say things that
+are, I fear, a little too wise for my poor comprehension?"
+
+"I don't express them; it is my fault," he answered, in a very low tone.
+"You have _mind_, Miss Arden, for anything. There is no one it is so
+delightful to converse with, owing in part to that very faculty--I mean
+quick apprehension. But I know my own defects. I know how imperfectly I
+often express myself. By-the-way, you seemed to wish to have that
+curious little wild Bohemian air I sang the other night, 'The Wanderer's
+Bride'--the song about the white lily, you know. I ventured to get a
+friend, who really is a very good musician, to make a setting of it,
+which I so very much hope you will like. I brought it with me. You will
+think me very presumptuous, but I hoped so much you might be tempted to
+try it."
+
+When Mr. Longcluse spoke to Alice, it was always in a tone so very
+deferential, that it was next to impossible that a very young girl
+should not be flattered by it--considering, especially, that the man was
+reputed clever, had seen the world, and had met with a certain success,
+and that by no means of a kind often obtained, or ever quite despised.
+There was also a directness in his eulogy which was unusual, and which
+spoken with a different manner would have been embarrassing, if not
+offensive. But in Mr. Longcluse's manner, when he spoke such phrases,
+there appeared a real humility, and even sadness, that the boldness of
+the sentiment was lost in the sincerity and dejection of the speaker,
+which seemed to place him on a sudden at the immeasurable distance of a
+melancholy worship.
+
+"I am so much obliged!" said Alice. "I did wish so much to have it when
+you sang it. It may not do for my voice at all, but I longed to try it.
+When a song is sung so as to move one, it is sure to be looked out and
+learned, without any thought wasted on voice, or skill, or natural
+fitness. It is, I suppose, like the vanity that makes one person dress
+after another. Still, I do wish to sing that song, and I am so much
+obliged!"
+
+From the other side her uncle said very softly--"What do you think of my
+ward, Grace Maubray?"
+
+"Oughtn't I to ask, rather, what you think of her?" she laughed archly.
+
+"Oh! I see," he answered, with a pleasant and honest smile; "you have
+the gift of seeing as far as other clever people into a millstone. But,
+no--though perhaps I ought to thank you for giving me credit for so much
+romance and good taste--I don't think I shall ever introduce you to an
+aunt. You must guess again, if you will have a matrimonial explanation;
+though I don't say there is any such design. And perhaps, if there were,
+the best way to promote it would be to leave the intended hero and
+heroine very much to themselves. They are both very good-looking."
+
+"Who?" asked Alice, although she knew very well whom he meant.
+
+"I mean that pretty creature over there, Grace Maubray, and Vivian
+Darnley," said he quietly.
+
+She smiled, looking very much pleased and very arch.
+
+With how Spartan a completeness women can hide the shootings and
+quiverings of mental pain, and of bodily pain too, when the motive is
+sufficient! Under this latter they are often clamorous, to be sure; but
+the demonstration expresses not want of patience, but the feminine
+yearning for compassion.
+
+"I fancy nothing would please the young rogue Vivian better. I wish I
+were half so sure of her. You girls are so unaccountable, so fanciful,
+and--don't be angry--so uncertain."
+
+"Well, I suppose, as you say, we must only have patience, and leave the
+matter in the hands of Time, who settles most things pretty well."
+
+She raised her eyes, and fancied she saw Grace Maubray at the same
+moment withdraw hers from her face. Lady May was talking from the end of
+the table with Mr. Longcluse.
+
+"Your neighbour who is talking to Lady May is a Mr. Longcluse?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"He is a City notability; but oddly, I never happened to see him till
+this evening. Do you think there is something curious in his
+appearance?"
+
+"Yes, a little, perhaps. Don't you?"
+
+"So odd that he makes my blood run cold," said Uncle David, with a shrug
+and a little laugh. "Seriously, I mean unpleasantly odd. What is Lady
+May talking about? Yes--I thought so--that horrid murder at the 'Saloon
+Tavern.' For so good-natured a person, she has the most bloodthirsty
+tastes I know of; she's always deep in some horror."
+
+"My brother Dick told me that Mr. Longcluse made a speech there."
+
+"Yes, so I heard; and I think he said what is true enough. London is
+growing more and more insecure; and that certainly was a most audacious
+murder. People make money a little faster, that is true; but what is the
+good of money, if their lives are not their own? It is quite true that
+there are streets in London, which I remember as safe as this room,
+through which no one suspected of having five pounds in his pocket could
+now walk without a likelihood of being garotted."
+
+"How dreadful!" said Alice, and Uncle David laughed a little at her
+horror.
+
+"It is too true, my dear. But, to pass to pleasanter subjects, when do
+you mean to choose among the young fellows, and present me to a new
+nephew?" said Uncle David.
+
+"Do you fancy I would tell anyone if I knew?" she answered, laughing.
+"How is it that you men, who are always accusing us weak women of
+thinking of nothing else, can never get the subject of matrimony out of
+your heads? Now, uncle, as you and I may talk confidentially, and at our
+ease, I'll tell you two things. I like my present spinster life very
+well--I should like it better, I think, if it were in the country; but
+town or country, I don't think I should ever like a married life. I
+don't think I'm fit for command."
+
+"Command! I thought the prayer-book said something about obeying, on the
+contrary," said Uncle David.
+
+"You know what I mean. I'm not fit to rule a household; and I am afraid
+I am a little idle, and I should not like to have it to do--and so I
+could never do it well."
+
+"Nevertheless, when the right man comes, he need but beckon with his
+finger, and away you go, Miss Alice, and undertake it all."
+
+"So we are whistled away, like poodles for a walk, and that kind of
+thing! Well, I suppose, uncle, you are right, though I can't see that
+I'm quite so docile a creature. But if my poor sex is so willing to be
+won, I don't know how you are to excuse your solitary state, considering
+how very little trouble it would have taken to make some poor creature
+happy."
+
+"A very fair retort!" laughed Uncle David. And he added, in a changed
+tone, for a sudden recollection of his own early fortunes crossed
+him--"But even when the right man does come, it does not always follow,
+Miss Alice, that he dares make the sign; fate often interposes years,
+and in them death may come, and so the whole card-castle falls."
+
+"I've had a long talk," he resumed, "with Richard; he has made me
+promises, and I hope he will be a better boy for the future. He has been
+getting himself into money troubles, and acquiring--I'm afraid I should
+say cultivating--a taste for play. I know you have heard something of
+this before; I told you myself. But he has made me promises, and I hope,
+for your sake, he'll keep them; because, you know, I and your father
+can't last for ever, and he ought to take care of you; and how can he do
+that, if he's not fit to take care of himself? But I believe there is no
+use in thinking too much about what is to come. One has enough to do in
+the present. I think poor Lady May has been disappointed," he said, with
+a very cautious smile, his eye having glanced for a moment on her; "she
+looks a little forlorn, I think."
+
+"Does she? And why?"
+
+"Well, they say she would not object to be a little more nearly related
+to you than she is."
+
+"You can't mean papa--or _yourself_!"
+
+"Oh, dear, no!" he answered, laughing. "I mean that she misses Dick a
+good deal."
+
+"Oh, dear! uncle, you can't be serious!"
+
+"It might be a very serious affair for her; but I don't know that he
+could do a wiser thing. The old quarrel is still raging, he tells me,
+and that he can't appear in this house."
+
+"It is a great pity," said she.
+
+"Pity! Not at all. They never could agree; and it is much better for
+Dick they should not--on the terms Reginald proposes, at least. I see
+Lady May trying to induce you to make her the sign at which ladies rise,
+and leave us poor fellows to shift for ourselves."
+
+"Ungallant old man! I really believe she is."
+
+And in a moment more the ladies were floating from the room, Vivian
+Darnley standing at the door. Somehow he could not catch Alice's eye as
+they passed; she was smiling an answer to some gabble of Lady May's.
+Grace gave him a very kind look with her fine eyes as she went by; and
+so the young man, who had followed them up the massive stairs with his
+gaze, closed the door and sat down again, before his claret glass, and
+his little broken cluster of grapes, and half-dozen distracted bits of
+candied fruit, and sighed deeply.
+
+"That murder in the City that you were speaking of just now to Lady May
+is a serious business for men who walk the streets, as I do sometimes,
+with money in their pockets," said David Arden, addressing Mr.
+Longcluse.
+
+"So it struck me--one feels that instinctively. When I saw that poor
+little good-natured fellow dead, and thought how easily I might have
+walked in there myself, with the assassin behind me, it seemed to me
+simply the turn of a die that the lot had not fallen upon me," said
+Longcluse.
+
+"He was robbed, too, wasn't he?" croaked Sir Reginald, who was growing
+tired; and with his fatigue came evidences of his temper.
+
+"Oh, yes," said David; "nothing left in his pockets."
+
+"And Laroque, a watchmaker, a relation of his, said he had cheques about
+him, and foreign money," said Longcluse; "but, of course, the cheques
+were not presented, and foreign money is not easily traced in a big town
+like London. I made him a present of ten pounds to stake on the game; I
+could not learn that he did stake it, and I suppose the poor fellow
+intended applying it in some more prudent way. But my present was in
+gold, and that, of course, the robber applied without apprehension."
+
+"Now, you fellows who have a stake in the City, it is a scandal your
+permitting such a state of things to continue," said Sir Reginald;
+"because, though your philanthropy may not be very diffuse, each of you
+cares most tenderly for one individual at least in the human race--I
+mean _self_--and whatever you may think of personal morality, and even
+life--for you don't seem to me to think a great deal of grinding
+operatives in the cranks of your mills, or blowing them up by bursting
+steam-boilers, to say nothing of all the people you poison with
+adulterated food, or with strychnine in beer, or with arsenic in
+candles, or pretty green papers for bed-rooms--or smash or burn alive on
+railways--yet you should, on selfish grounds, set your faces against a
+system of assassination for pocket-books and purses, the sort of things
+precisely you have always about you. Don't you see? And it's
+inconsistent besides, because, as I said, although you care little for
+life--other people's, I mean--in the abstract, yet you care a great deal
+for property. I think it's your idol, by Jove! and worshipping
+money--positively _worshipping_ it, as you do, it seems a scandalous
+inconsistency that you should--of course, I don't mean you two
+individually," he said, perhaps recollecting that he might be going a
+little too fast; "you never, of course, fancied _that_. I mean, of
+course, the class of men we have all heard of, or seen--but I do say,
+with that sort of adoration for money and property, I can't understand
+their allowing their pockets to be profaned and their purses made away
+with."
+
+Sir Reginald, having thus delivered himself with considerable asperity,
+poured some claret into his glass, and pushed the jugs on to his
+brother, and then, closing his eyes, composed himself either to listen
+or to sleep.
+
+"City or country, East End or West End, I fancy we are all equally
+anxious to keep other people's hands out of our pockets," said David
+Arden; "and I quite agree with Mr. Longcluse in all he is reported to
+have said with respect to our police system."
+
+"But is it so certain that the man was robbed?" said Vivian Darnley.
+
+"Everything he had about him was taken," said Mr. Longcluse.
+
+"But they pretend to rob men sometimes, when they murder them, only to
+conceal the real motive," persisted Vivian Darnley.
+
+"Yes, that's quite true; but then there must be _some_ motive," said Mr.
+Longcluse, with something a little supercilious in his smile: "and it
+isn't easy to conceive a motive for murdering a poor little good-natured
+letter of lodgings, a person past the time of life when jealousy could
+have anything to do with it, and a most inoffensive and civil creature.
+I confess, if I were obliged to seek a motive other than the obvious
+one, for the crime, I should be utterly puzzled."
+
+"When I was travelling in Prussia," said Vivian Darnley, "I saw two
+people in different prisons--one a woman, the other a middle-aged
+man--both for murder. They had been found guilty, and had been kept
+there only to get a confession from them before execution. They won't
+put culprits to death there, you know, unless they have first admitted
+their guilt; and one of these had actually confessed. Well, each had
+borne an unexceptionable character up to the time when suspicion was
+accidentally aroused, and then it turned out that they had been
+poisoning and otherwise making away with people, at the rate of two or
+three a year, for half their lives. Now, don't you see, these masked
+assassins, having, as it appeared, absolutely no intelligible motive,
+either of passion or of interest, to commit these murders, could have
+had no inducement, as the woman had actually confessed, except a sort of
+lust of murder. I suppose it is a sort of madness, but these people were
+not otherwise mad; and it is quite possible that the same sort of thing
+may be going on in other places. People say that the police would have
+got a clue to the mystery by means of the foreign coin and the
+bank-notes, if they had not been destroyed."
+
+"But there are traces of organisation," said Mr. Longcluse. "In a
+crowded place like that, such things could hardly be managed without it,
+and insanity such as you describe is very rare; and you'll hardly get
+people to believe in a swell-mob of madmen, committing murder in concert
+simply for the pleasure of homicide. They will all lean to a belief in
+the coarse but intelligible motive of the highwayman."
+
+"I saw in the newspapers," said David Arden, "some evidence of yours,
+Mr. Longcluse, which seemed rather to indicate a particular man as the
+murderer."
+
+"I have my eye upon him," said Longcluse. "There are suspicious
+circumstances. The case in a little time may begin to clear; at present
+the police are only groping."
+
+"That's satisfactory; and those fellows are paid so handsomely for
+groping," said Sir Reginald, opening his eyes suddenly. "I believe that
+we are the worst-governed and the worst-managed people on earth, and
+that our merchants and tradespeople are rich simply by flukes--simply by
+a concurrence of lucky circumstances, with which they have no more to do
+than Prester John or the Man in the Moon. Take a little claret, Mr.
+Longcluse, and send it on."
+
+"No more, thanks."
+
+And all the guests being of the same mind, they marched up the broad
+stairs to the ladies.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIX.
+
+IN MRS. TANSEY'S ROOM.
+
+
+There were sounds of music and laughter faintly audible through the
+drawing-room door. The music ceased as the door opened, and the
+gentlemen entered an atmosphere of brilliant light, and fragrant with
+the pleasant aroma of tea.
+
+"Pray, Miss Arden, don't let us interrupt you," said Mr. Longcluse. "I
+thought I heard singing as we came up the stairs." He had come to the
+piano, and was now at her side.
+
+She did not sing or play, but Vivian Darnley thought that her
+conversation with Longcluse, as, with one knee on his chair, he leaned
+over the back of it and talked, seemed more interesting than usual.
+
+"I say, Reginald," said David Arden softly to his brother, "I must run
+down and pay Martha Tansey my usual visit. She's in her room, I suppose.
+I'll steal away and return quietly."
+
+And so he was gone. He closed the door softly behind him, and slowly
+descended the wide staircase, with many vague conjectures and images
+revolving in his mind. He paused at the great window on the landing, and
+looked out upon the solemn and familiar landscape. A brilliant moon was
+high in the sky, and the stars glimmered brightly. His hand was on the
+window as he looked out, thinking.
+
+Uncle David was a man impulsive, prompt, sanguine--a temperament, in
+short, which, directed by an able intellect, would have made a good
+general. When an idea had got into his head, he could not rest until he
+had worked it out. On the whole, throughout his life these fits of
+sudden and feverish concentration had been effective, and aided his
+fortunes. It is, perhaps, an unbusiness-like temperament; but commercial
+habits and example had failed to control that natural ardour, and, when
+once inflamed, it governed his actions implicitly.
+
+An idea, very vague, very little the product of reason, had now taken
+possession of his brain, and he relied upon it as an intuition. He had
+been thinking over it. It first warmed, then simmered, then, as it were,
+boiled. The process had been one of an hour and more, as he sat at his
+brother's table and took his share in the conversation. When the steam
+got up and the pressure rose to the point of action, forth went Uncle
+David to have his talk with his early friend Tansey. He stopped, as I
+have said, at the great window on the staircase, and looked out and up.
+The moon was splendid; the stars were glimmering brightly; they looked
+down like a thousand eyes set upon him, to watch the prowess and
+perseverance of the man on whom fate had imposed a mission.
+
+Some idea like this seized him, for, like many men of a similar
+temperament, he had an odd and unconfessed vein of poetry in his nature.
+He had looked out and up in a listless abstraction, and the dark heaven
+above him, brilliant with its eternal lights, had for a moment withdrawn
+and elevated his thoughts as if he had entered a cathedral.
+
+"What specks and shadows we are, and how eternal is duty! And if we are
+in another place to last like those unfailing lights--to become happy or
+wretched, and, in either state, indestructible for ever--what signify
+the labour and troubles of life, compared with that by which our
+everlasting fate is fixed? God help us! Am I consulting revenge or
+conscience in pursuing this barren inquiry? Do I mistake for the sublime
+impulse of conscience a vulgar thirst for blood? I think not. I never
+harboured malice; I hate punishing people. But murder is a crime against
+God himself, respecting which he imposes duties upon man, and seconds
+them by all the instincts of affection. Dare I neglect them, then, in
+the case of poor loving Harry, my brother?"
+
+The drawing-room door had been opened a little, the night being sultry,
+and through it now came the clear tones of a well-taught baritone. It
+was singing a slow and impassioned air, and its tones, though sweet,
+chilled him with a strange pain. It seemed like instinct that told him
+it was the stranger's voice. One moment's thought would have proved it
+equally. There was no one else present to suspect but Vivian Darnley,
+and he was no musician; but to David Arden it seemed that if a hundred
+people were there he should have felt it all the same, and intuitively
+recognised it as Longcluse's voice.
+
+"What is it in that voice which is so hateful? What is it in that
+passion which sounds insincere? What gives to those sweet tones a latent
+discord, that creeps so coldly through my nerves?"
+
+So thought David Arden, as, with one hand still upon the window-sash, he
+listened and turned toward the open door, with a frown akin to one of
+pain.
+
+Spell-bound, he listened till the song was over, and sighed and shook
+his ears with a sort of shudder when the music ceased.
+
+"I don't know why I stayed to listen. Face--voice--what is the agency
+about that fellow? I daresay I'm a fool, but I can't help it, and I must
+bring the idea to the test."
+
+He descended the stairs slowly, crossed the hall, and walked
+thoughtfully down the passage leading to the housekeeper's room. At this
+hour the old woman had it usually to herself. He knocked at the
+housekeeper's door, and recognised the familiar voice that answered.
+
+"How do you do, Martha?" said he, striding cheerily into the room.
+
+"Ah! Master David? So it is, sure!"
+
+"Ay, sure and sure, Martha," said he, taking the old woman's hand, with
+his kind smile. "And how are you, Martha? Tell me how you are."
+
+"I won't say much. I'm not so canty as you'll mind me. I'm an old wife
+now, Master David, and not much for this world, I'm thinking," she
+answered dolorously.
+
+"You may outlive much younger people, Martha; we are all in the hands of
+God," said David, smiling. "It seems to me but yesterday that I and poor
+Harry used to run in here to you from our play in the grounds, and you
+had always a bit of something for us hungry fellows to eat, come when we
+might."
+
+"Ah, ha! Yes, ye were hungry fellows then--spirin' up, fine tall lads.
+Reginald was never like ye; he was seven years older than you. And
+hungry? Yes! The cold turkey and ham, ye mind--by Jen! I _have_ seen ye
+eat hearty; and pancakes--ye liked them best of all. And it went a' into
+a good skin. I will say--you and Master Harry (God be wi' him!) a fine,
+handsome pair o' lads ye were. And you're a handsome fellow still,
+Master David, and might have married well, no doubt; but man proposes
+and God disposes, and time and tide 'll wait for no man, and what's one
+man's meat's another man's poison. Who knows and all may be for the
+best? And that Mr. Longcluse is dining here to-day?" she added, not very
+coherently, and with a sudden gloom.
+
+"Yes, Martha, that Mr. Longcluse is dining here to-day; and Master Dick
+tells me you did not fall in love with him at first sight, when they
+paid you a visit here. Is that true?"
+
+"I don't know. I don't know what. The sight of him--or the sound of his
+voice, I don't know which--gave me a turn," said the old woman.
+
+"Well, Martha, I don't like his face, either. He gave me, also, what you
+call a turn. He's very pale, and I felt as if I had been frightened by
+him when I was a child; and yet he must be some five and twenty years
+younger than I am, and I'm almost certain I never saw him before. So I
+say it must be something that's no' canny as you used to say. What do
+you think, Martha?"
+
+"Ye may be funnin', Master David. Ye were always a canty lad. But it's
+o'er true. I can't bring to mind what it is--I can't tell--but something
+in that man's face gev me a sten. I conceited I was just goin' to
+swound; and he looked sa straight at me, like a ghost."
+
+"Master Richard says you looked very hard at Mr. Longcluse; you had both
+a good stare at each other," said Uncle David. "He thought there was
+going to be a recognition."
+
+"Did I? Well, no: I don't know him, I _think_. 'Tis all a jummlement,
+like. I couldn't bring nout to mind."
+
+"I know, Martha, you liked poor Harry well," said David Arden, not with
+a smile, but with a very sad countenance.
+
+"That I did," said Mrs. Tansey.
+
+"And I think you like me, Martha?"
+
+"Ye're not far wrong there, Master David."
+
+"And for both our sakes--for mine and his, for the dead no less than the
+living--I am sure you won't allow any thought of trouble, or
+nervousness, or fear of lawyers' browbeating, or that sort of thing, to
+deter you from saying, wherever and whenever justice may require it,
+everything you know or suspect respecting that dreadful occurrence."
+
+"The death o' Master Harry, ye mean!" exclaimed Mrs. Tansey sternly,
+drawing herself up on a sudden, with a pale frown, and looking full at
+him. "_Me_ to hide or hold back aught that could bring the truth to
+light! Oh! Master David, do you know what ye're sayin'?"
+
+"Perfectly," said he, with a melancholy smile; "and I am glad it vexes
+you, Martha, because I need no answer on that point more than your
+honest voice and face."
+
+"Keep back aught, man!" she repeated, striking her hand on the table.
+"Why, lad, I'd lose that old hand under the chopper for one gliff o' the
+truth into that damned story. Why, lawk! where's yer head, boy? Wasn't I
+maist killed myself, for sake o' him that night?"
+
+"Ay, Martha, brave girl, I'm satisfied; and I ask your pardon for the
+question. But years bring alteration, you know; and I'm changed in mind
+myself in many ways I never could have believed. And everyone doesn't
+see with me that it is our duty to explore a crime like that, to track
+the villain, if we can, and bring him to justice. _You_ do, Martha; but
+there are many in whose veins poor Harry's blood is running, who don't
+feel like you. Master Richard said that the gentleman looked as if he
+did not know what to make of you; 'and, by Jove!' said he, '_I_ didn't
+either--Martha stared so.'"
+
+"I couldn't help. 'Twas scarce civil; but truly I couldn't, Sir," said
+Martha Tansey, who had by this time recovered her equanimity. "He did
+remind me of summat."
+
+"We will talk of that by-and-by, Martha; we will try to recall it. What
+I want you first to tell me is exactly your recollection of the
+lamentable occurrence of that night. I have a full note of it at home;
+but I have not looked at it for years, and I want my recollection
+confirmed to-night, that you and I may talk over some possibilities
+which I should like to examine with your help."
+
+"I can talk of it now," said the old woman; "but for many a year after
+it happened I dare not. I could not sleep for many a night after I told
+it to anyone. But now I can bear it. So, Master David, you may ask what
+you please."
+
+"First let me hear your recollection of what happened," said David
+Arden.
+
+"Ay, Master David, that I will. Sit ye down, for my old bones won't
+carry me standing no time now, and sit I must. Right well ye're lookin',
+and right glad am I to see it, Master David; and ye were always a
+handsome laddie. God bless ye, and God be wi' the old times! And poor
+Master Harry--poor laddie!--I liked him well. You two looked beautiful,
+walkin' up to t' house together--two conny, handsome boys ye were."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XX.
+
+MRS. TANSEY'S STORY.
+
+
+"The sun don't touch these windows till nigh nightfall. In the short
+days o' winter, the last sunbeam at the settin' just glints along the
+wall, and touches a sprig or two o' them scarlet geraniums on the
+windastone. 'Tis a cold room, Master David. In summer evenins, like
+this, ye have just a chilly flush o' the sun settin', and, before it's
+well on the windas, the bats and beetles is abroad, and the moth is
+flittin', and the gloamin' fa's," said the old woman. "The windas looks
+to the west, but also a bit to the north, ye'll mind, and that's the
+cause o't. I don't complain. I ha' suffered it these thirty years and
+more, and 'tain't worth while, for the few years that's left, makin' a
+blub and a blither about it. I'm an old wife now, Master David, and
+there can't be many more years for me left aboon the grass, sa I e'en
+let be and taks the world easy, ye see; and that's the reason I aye keep
+a bit o' wood burnin' on the hearth--it keeps the life in my old
+bones--and I hope it ain't too warm for you, Master David?"
+
+"Not a bit, Martha. This side of the house is cool. I remember that our
+room, when we were boys, looked out from it, high up, you recollect, and
+it never was hot."
+
+"That's it, ye were in the top o' the house; and poor Harry, wi' his
+picturs o' horses and dogs hangin' up on the wa's. Lawk! it seems but
+last week. How the years flits! I often thinks of him. See what a moon
+there is to-night. 'Twas just such a moon that night, only frostier, ye
+see--the same clear sky and bright moon; 'twould make ye wink to look
+at. Ye're not too hot wi' that bit o' wood lightin' in the grate?"
+
+"I like the fire, Martha, and I like the moon, and I like your company
+best of all."
+
+The truth was, he did like the flicker of the wood fire. The flame was
+cheery, and took off something of the dismal shadow that stole over
+everything whenever he applied his affectionate mind to the horrors of
+the dreadful night on which he was now ruminating. One of the
+window-shutters was open, and the chill brilliancy of the moon, and the
+deep blue sky, were serenely visible over the black foreground of trees.
+The wavering of the redder light of the fire, as its reflection spread
+and faded upon the wainscot, was warm and pleasant; and, had their talk
+been of less ghastly things, would have brightened their thoughts with a
+sense of comfort.
+
+"I have not very long to stay, Martha," said David Arden, looking at his
+watch, "so tell me your recollection as accurately as you can. Let me
+hear _that_ first; and then I want to ask you for some particular
+information, which I am sure you can give me."
+
+"Why not? Who should I give it sooner to? Will ye take a cup o' coffee?
+No. Well, a glass o' curacoa? No. And what will ye take?"
+
+"You forget that I have taken everything, and come to you with all my
+wants supplied. So now, dear Martha, let me hear it all."
+
+"I'll tell ye all about it. I was younger and stronger, mind, than I am
+now, by twenty years and more. 'Tis a short time to look back on, but a
+good while passing, and leaves many a gap and change, and many a scar
+and wrinkle."
+
+There was a palpable tremble always in Mrs. Tansey's voice, in the thin
+hand she extended towards him, and in the head from which her old eyes
+glittered glassily on him.
+
+"The road is very lonely by night--the loneliest road in all England.
+When it passes ten o'clock, you might listen till cock-crow for a
+footfall. Well, I, and Thomas Ridley, and Anne Haslett, was all the
+people at Mortlake just then, the family being in the North, except
+Master Harry. He went to a race across country, that was run that day;
+and he told me, laughing, he would not ask me to throw an old shoe after
+him, as he stood sure to win two thousand pounds. And away he went,
+little thinking, him and me, how our next meetin' would be. At that time
+old Tom Clinton--ye'll mind Clinton?"
+
+"To be sure I do," acquiesced David Arden.
+
+"Well, Tom was in the gatehouse then; after he died, his daughter's
+husband got it, ye know. And when he had outstayed his time by two
+hours--for he was going northwards in the morning, and told me he'd be
+surely back before ten--I began to grow frightened, and I put on my
+bonnet and cloak, and down I runs to the gatehouse, and knocks up Tom
+Clinton. It was nigh twelve o'clock then. When Tom came to the door,
+having dressed in haste, I said, 'Tom, which way will Master Harry
+return? he's not been since.' And says Tom, 'If he's comin' straight
+from the course, he'll come down from the country; but if he's dinin'
+instead in London, he'll come up the Islington way.' 'Well,' said I, 'go
+you, Tom, to the turn o' the road, and look and listen for sight or
+sound, and bring me word.' I don't know what was frightenin' me. He was
+often later, and I never minded; but something that night was on my
+mind, like a warning, for I couldn't get the fear out o' my heart. Well,
+who comes ridin' back but Dick Wallock, the groom, that had drove away
+with him in the gig in the mornin'; and glad I was to see his face at
+the gate. It was bright moonlight, and says I, 'Dick, how is Master
+Harry? Is all well with him?' So he tells me, ay, all was well, and he
+goin' to drive the gig out himself from town. He was at a
+place--_you'll_ mind the name of it--where it turned out they played
+cards and dice, and won and lost like--like fools, or worse, as some o'
+them no doubt was. 'Well,' says I, 'go you up, as he told you, with the
+horse, and I'll stay here till he comes back, if it wasn't till
+daybreak.' For all the time, ye see, my heart misgave me that there was
+summat bad to happen; and when Tom Clinton came back, says I, 'Tom, you
+go in, and get to your room, and let me sit down in your kitchen; and
+I'll let him in when he comes, for I can't go up to the house, nor close
+an eye, till he comes.' Well, it was a full hour after, and I was
+sittin' in the kitchen window that looks out on the road, starin' wide
+awake, and lookin', now one way and now another, up and down, when I
+hears the clink of a footfall on the stones, and a tall, ill-favoured
+man walks slowly by, and turns his face toward the window as he passed."
+
+"You saw him distinctly, then?" said David.
+
+"As plain as ever I saw you. An ill-favoured fellow in a light drab
+great coat wi' a cape to it. He looked white wi' fear, and wild big
+eyes, and a high hooked nose--a tall chap wi' his hands in his pockets,
+and a low-crowned hat on. He went on slow, till a whistle sounded, and
+then he ran down the road a bit toward the signal."
+
+"That was toward the Islington side?"
+
+"Ay, Sir, and I grew more uneasy. I was scared wi' the sight o' such a
+man at that time o' night, in that lonesome place, and the whistlin' and
+runnin'."
+
+"Did you see the same man again that night?" asked David.
+
+"Yes, 'twas the same I saw afterwards--Lord ha' mercy on us! I saw him
+again, at his murderin' work. Oh, Master David! it makes my brain wild,
+and my skin creep, to think o' that sight."
+
+"I did wrong to interrupt you; tell it your own way, Martha, and I can
+afterwards ask you the questions that lie near my heart," said Mr.
+Arden.
+
+"'Tis easy told, Sir; the candle was burnt down almost in the socket,
+and I went to look out another--but before I could find one, it went
+out. 'Twas but a stump I found and lighted, after I saw that fellow in
+the light drab surtout go by. I wished to let them know, if they had any
+ill design, there was folks awake in the lodge. But he was gone by
+before I found the matches, and now that he was comin' again, the candle
+went out--things goes so cross. It was to be, ye see. Well, while I was
+rummagin' about, looking for a candle, I heard the sound of a horse
+trotting hard, and wheels rollin' along; so says I, 'Thank God!' for
+then I was sure it must be Harry, poor lad. So I claps on my bonnet, and
+out wi' me, wi' t' key. I thought I heard voices, as the hoofs and
+wheels came clinkin' up to the gate; but I could not be quite sure. I
+was huffed wi' Master Harry for the long wait he gev me, and the fright,
+and I took my time comin' round the corner of the gatehouse. And thinks
+I to myself, he'll be offerin' me a seat in the gig up to the house, but
+I won't take it. God forgi'e me for them angry thoughts to the poor
+laddie that I was never to have a word wi' more! When I came to the gate
+there was never a call, and nothing but voices talking and gaspin' like,
+under their breath a'most, and a queer scufflin' sound, that I could not
+make head nor tail on. So I unlocked the wicket, and out wi' me, and,
+Lord ha' mercy on us, what a sight for me! The gig was there, with its
+shafts on the ground, and its back cocked up, and the iron-grey flat on
+his side, lashin' and scramblin', poor brute, and two villains in the
+gig, both pullin' at poor Master Harry, one robbin', and t'other
+murderin' him. I took one o' them--a short, thick fellow--by the skirt
+o' his coat, to drag him out, and I screamed for Tom Clinton to come
+out. The short fellow turned, and struck at me wi' somethin'; but, lucky
+for me, 'appen, the lashin' horse that minute took me on the foot, and
+brought me down. But up I scrambles wi' a stone in my hand, and I shied
+it, the best I could, at the head o' the villain that was killin' Master
+Harry. But what can a woman do? It did not go nigh him, I'm thinkin'. I
+was, all the time, calling on Tom to come, and cryin' 'Murder!' that
+you'd think my throat'd split. That bloody wretch in the gig had got
+poor Master Harry's head back over the edge of it, and his knee to his
+chest, a-strivin' to break his neck across the back-rails; and poor dear
+lad, Master Harry, he just scritched, 'Yelland Mace! for God's sake!'
+They were the last words I ever heard from him, and I'll never forget
+that horrid scritch, nor the face of the villain that was over him, like
+a beast over its prey. He was tuggin' at his throat, like you'd be
+tryin' to tear up a tree by the roots--you never see such a face. His
+teeth was set, and the froth comin' through, and his black eyebrows
+screwed together, you'd think they'd crack the thin hooked nose of him
+between them, and he pantin' like a wild beast. He looked like a madman,
+I tell you; 'twas bright moonlight, and the trees bare, and the shadows
+of the branches was switchin' across his face."
+
+"You saw that face distinctly?" asked David Arden.
+
+"As clear as yours this minute."
+
+"Now tell me--and think first--was he a bit like that Mr. Longcluse
+whose appearance startled you the other evening?" asked Mr. Arden, in a
+very low tone, with his eyes fixed on her intensely.
+
+"No, no, no! not a bit. He had a small mouth and white teeth, and a
+great beak of a nose. No, no, no! not he. I saw him strike somethin'
+that shone--a knife or a dagger--into the poor lad's throat, and he
+struck it down at my head, as you know, and I mind nothin' after that.
+I'll carry the scar o' that murderer's blow to my grave. There's the
+whole story, and God forgi'e ye for asking me, for it gi'es me t'
+creepins for a week after; and I didn't conceit 'twould 'a' made me sa
+excited, Sir, or I would not 'a' bargained to tell it to-night--not that
+I blame ye, Master David, for I thought, myself, that I could bear it
+better--and I do believe, as I have gone so far in it, 'tis better to
+make one job of it, and a finish. So ye'll ask me any question ye like,
+and I'll make the best answer I can; only, Master David, ye'll not be
+o'er long about it?"
+
+"You are a good creature, Martha. I am sorry to pain you, but I pain
+myself, and you know why I ask these questions."
+
+"Ay, Sir, and I'd rather hear ye ask them than see you sit as easy under
+all that as some does, that owed the poor fellow as much love as ever
+you did, and were as near akin."
+
+"I am puzzled, Martha, and hitherto I have been baffled, but I won't
+give it up yet. You say that the wretch who struck you was a
+singular-looking man, at least as you describe him. I know, Martha, I
+can rely upon your caution--you will not repeat to any one what passes
+in our interview." He lowered his voice. "You do not think that this Mr.
+Longcluse--a rich gentleman, you know and a person who thinks he's of
+some consequence, a person whom we must not look at, you know, as if he
+had two heads--you really don't think that this Mr. Longcluse has any
+resemblance to the villain whom you saw stab my brother, and who struck
+you?"
+
+"Not he--no more than I have. No, no, Mr. Longcluse is quite another
+sort of face; but for all that, when he came in here, and I saw him
+before me, his face and his speech reminded me of that night."
+
+"How was that, Martha? Did he resemble the other man--the man who was
+aiding?"
+
+"That fellow was hanged, ye'll mind, Master David."
+
+"Yes, but a likeness might have struck and startled you."
+
+"No, Sir--no, Master David, not him; surely not him. I can't bring it to
+mind, but it frightens me. It _is_ queer, Sir. All I can say for certain
+is this, Master David. The minute I heard his voice, and got sight of
+his face, like that," and she dropped her hand on the table, "the
+thought of that awful night came back, bright and cold, Sir, and them
+black shadows--'twas all about me, I can't tell how, and I hope I may
+never see him again."
+
+"Do you think there was another man by, besides the two villains in the
+gig?" suggested David Arden.
+
+"Not a living soul except them and myself. Poor Master Harry said to Tom
+Clinton, ye'll mind, for he lived half-an-hour after, and spoke a
+little, though faint and with great labour, and says he, 'There were
+two: Yelland Mace killed me, and Tom Todry took the money.' Tom Clinton
+heard him say that, and swore to it before the justice o' peace, and
+after, on the trial. No, no, there wasn't a soul there but they two
+villains, and the poor dear lad they murdered, and me and Tom Clinton,
+that might as well 'a' bin in York for any good we did. Oh, no, Heaven
+forbid I should be so unmannerly as to compare a gentleman like Mr.
+Longcluse to such folk as that! Oh, lawk, no, Sir! But there's
+something, there's a look--or a sound in his voice--I can't get round it
+quite--but it reminds me of something about that night, with a start
+like, I can't tell how--something unlucky and awful--and I would not see
+him again for a deal."
+
+"Well, Martha, a thousand thanks. I'm puzzled, as I said. Perhaps it is
+only something strange in his face that caused that odd misgiving. For
+_I_ who saw but one of the wretches engaged in the crime, the man who
+was convicted, who certainly did not in the slightest degree resemble
+Mr. Longcluse, experienced the same unpleasant sensation on first seeing
+him. I don't know how it is, Martha, but the idea clings to me, as it
+does to you. Some light may come. Something may turn up. I can't get it
+out of my mind that somehow--it may be circuitously--he has, at least,
+got the thread in his fingers that may lead us right. Good-night,
+Martha. I have got the Bible with large print you wished for; I hope you
+will like the binding. And now, God bless you! It is time I should bid
+them good-night up-stairs. Farewell, my good old friend." And, so
+saying, he shook her hard and shrivelled hand.
+
+His steps echoed along the long tiled passage, with its one dim light,
+and his mind was still haunted by its one obscure idea.
+
+"It is strange," he thought, "that Martha and I--the only two living
+persons, I believe, who care still for poor Harry, and feel alike
+respecting the expiation that is due to his memory--should both have
+been struck with the same odd feeling on seeing Longcluse. From that
+white sinister face, it seems to me, I know not why, will shine the
+light that will yet clear all up."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXI.
+
+A WALK BY MOONLIGHT.
+
+
+While Martha Tansey was telling her grisly story in the housekeeper's
+room, and David Arden listening to the oft-told tale, for the sake of
+the possible new lights which the narration might throw upon his present
+theory, the little party in the drawing-room had their music and their
+talk. Mr. Longcluse sang the song which, standing beside Uncle David on
+the landing, near the great window on the staircase, we have faintly
+heard; and then he sang that other song, of the goblin wooer, at Alice's
+desire.
+
+"Was the poor girl fool enough to accept his invitation?" inquired Miss
+Maubray.
+
+"That I really can't say," laughed Mr. Longcluse.
+
+"Yes, indeed, poor thing! I so hope she didn't," said Lady May.
+
+"It's very likely she did," interposed Sir Reginald, opening his
+eyes--every one thought he was dozing--"nothing more foolish, and
+therefore, nothing more likely. Besides, if she didn't, she probably did
+worse. Better to go straight to the----"
+
+"Oh, dear Reginald!" exclaimed Lady May.
+
+"Than by a tedious circumbendibus. I suppose her parents highly
+disapproved of the goblin; wasn't that alone an excellent reason for
+going away with him?"
+
+And Sir Reginald closed his eyes again.
+
+"Perhaps," said Miss Maubray aside to Vivian Darnley, "that romantic
+young lady may have had a cross papa, and thought that she could not
+change very much for the worse."
+
+"Shall I tell that to Sir Reginald?--it would amuse him," inquired
+Darnley.
+
+"Not as my remark; but I make you a present of it."
+
+"Thanks; but that, even with your permission, would be a plagiarism, and
+robbing you of his applause."
+
+Vivian Darnley was very inattentive to his own nonsense. He was talking
+very much at random, for his mind, and occasionally his eyes, were
+otherwise occupied.
+
+Alice Arden was sitting near the piano, and talking to Mr. Longcluse.
+
+"Is that meant to be a ghost, I wonder, in our sense, like the ghost of
+Wilhelm in the ballad of Leonora? or is the lover a demon?"
+
+"A demon, surely," answered Longcluse, "a spirit appointed to her
+destruction. In an old ghostly writer there is a Latin sentence,
+_Unicuique nascenti, adest daemon vitae mystagogus_, which I will
+translate, 'There is present at the birth of every human being a demon,
+who is the conductor of his life.' Be it fortunate, or be it direful, to
+this supernatural influence he owes it all. So they thought; and to
+families such a demon is allotted also, and they prosper or wane as his
+function is ordained. I wonder whether such demons ever enter into human
+beings, and, in the shape of living men, haunt, plague, and ruin their
+predestinated victims."
+
+This sort of mysticism for a time they talked, and then wandered away to
+other themes, and the talk grew general; and Mr. Longcluse, with a pang,
+discovered that it was late. He had something on his mind that night. He
+had an undivulged use, also, to which to apply David Arden. As the hour
+drew near it weighed more and more heavily at his heart. That hour must
+be observed; he wished to be away before it arrived. There was still
+ample time; but Lady May was now talking of going, and he made up his
+mind to say farewell.
+
+Lingeringly Mr. Longcluse took his leave. But go he must; and so, a last
+touch of the hand, a last look, and the parting is over. Down-stairs he
+runs; his groom and his brougham are at the door. What a glorious moon!
+The white light upon all things around is absolutely dazzling. How sharp
+and black the shadows! How light and filmy rises the old house! How
+black the nooks of the thick ivy! Every drop of dew that hangs upon its
+leaves, or on the drooping stalks of the neglected grass, is transmuted
+into a diamond. As he stands for an instant upon the broad platform of
+the steps, he looks round him with a deep sigh, and with a strange smile
+of rapture. The man standing with the open door of the brougham in his
+hand caught his eye.
+
+"Go you down as far as the little church, before you reach the 'Guy of
+Warwick,' in the village, quite close to this--you know it--and wait
+there for me. I shall walk."
+
+The man touched his hat, shut the door, and mounted the box beside the
+driver, and away went the brougham. Mr. Longcluse lit a cigarette, and
+slowly walked down the broad avenue after the vehicle. By the time he
+had got about half-way, he heard the iron gates swing together, the
+sound of the wheels was lost in distance, and the feeling of seclusion
+returned. In the same vague intoxication of poetry and romance, he
+paused and looked round again, and sighed. The trunk of a great tree
+overthrown in the last year's autumnal gales, with some of its boughs
+lopped off, lay on the grass at the edge of the avenue. There remained a
+little of his cigarette to smoke, and the temptation of this natural
+seat was irresistible; so he took it, and smoked, and gazed, and
+dreamed, and sometimes, as he took the cigarette from his lips, he
+sighed--never was man in a more romantic vein. He looked back on the
+noble front of the picturesque old house. The cold moonlight gleamed on
+most of the window-panes: but from a few tall windows glowed faintly the
+warmer light of candles. If anyone had ever felt the piercing storms of
+life, the treachery of his species, and the mendacity of the illusions
+that surround us, Longcluse was that man. He had accepted the conditions
+of life, and was a man of the world; but no boy of eighteen was ever
+more in love than he at this moment.
+
+Gazing back at the dim glow that flushed through the tall window-blinds
+of the distant drawing-room, his fancy weaving all those airy dreams
+that passion lives in, this pale, solitary man--whom no one quite knew,
+who trusted no one, who had his peculiar passions, his sorrows, his
+fears, and strange remembrances; everything connected with his origin,
+vicissitudes, and character, except this one wild hope, locked up, as it
+were, in an iron casket, and buried in a grave fathoms deep--was now
+floated back, he knew not how, to that time of sweet perturbation and
+agonising hope at which the youth of Shakespeare's time were wont to
+sigh like a furnace, and indite woeful ballads to their mistress's
+eyebrows. Now he saw lights in an upper room. Imagination and conjecture
+were in a moment at work. No servant's apartment, its dimensions were
+too handsome; and had not Sir Reginald mentioned that his room was upon
+a level with the hall? Just at this moment Lady May's carriage drove
+down the avenue and past him. Yes, she had run up direct to her room on
+bidding Lady May good-night. How he drank in these rosy lights through
+his dark eyes! and how their tremble seemed to quicken the pulsations of
+his heart! Gradually his thoughts saddened, and his face grew dark.
+
+"Two doors in life--only in this life, if all bishops and curates speak
+truth--one or other shut for ever in the next. The gate to heaven, the
+gate to hell. Heaven! _Facilis decensus._ Life is such a sophism. Yet
+even those canting dogs in the pulpit can't bark away the truth. God
+sees not with our eyes! Revealed religion--Mahomet, Moses, Mormon,
+Borgia! What is the first lesson inscribed by his Maker on every man's
+heart, instinct, intellect? I read the mandate thus: 'Take the best care
+you can of number one.' Bah! 'It is he that hath made us, and not we
+ourselves.'"
+
+Uncle David's carriage now drove by.
+
+"There goes that sharp girl--pretty, vain--and they're all vain; they
+ought to be vain; they could not please if they were not. Vain she
+is--devoured, mind, soul, passion, by vanity. Yes, and power--the lust
+of power, conquest, acquisition. She's greedy and crafty, I daresay. Oh!
+Alice, who was ever quite like you? The most beautiful, the best, my
+darling! Oh! enchantress, work the miracle, and make this forlorn man
+what he might be!"
+
+It passed like a magic-lantern picture, and was gone. The distant clang
+of the iron gate was heard again, the avenue was deserted and silent,
+and Longcluse once more alone in his dream. He was looking towards the
+house, sometimes breaking into a few murmured words, sometimes smoking,
+and just as his cigarette was out he saw a figure approaching. It was
+Uncle David, who was walking down the avenue. It so happened that his
+mind was at that moment busy with Mr. Longcluse, and it was with an odd
+little shock, therefore, that he saw the very man--whom he fancied by
+that time to be at least two miles away--rise up in his path, and stand
+before him, smiling, in the moonlight.
+
+"Oh!--Mr. Longcluse?" exclaimed David Arden, coming suddenly to a halt.
+
+"So it is," said Longcluse, with a little laugh. "You are surprised to
+find me here, and I fancied I had seen your carriage go on."
+
+"So you did; it is waiting near the gate for me. Can I give you a seat
+into town?"
+
+"Thanks," said Longcluse, smiling; "mine is waiting for me a little
+further on."
+
+Longcluse walked slowly on toward the gate, with David Arden at his
+side.
+
+"My ward, Miss Maubray, has gone on with Lady May, and Darnley went with
+them. So I'm not such a brute as I should be if I were making a young
+lady wait while I was enjoying the moonlight."
+
+"It was this wonderful moon that led me, also, into this night-ramble on
+foot," said Mr. Longcluse; "I found the temptation absolutely
+irresistible."
+
+As they thus talked, Mr. Longcluse had formed the resolution of choosing
+that moment for a confidence which, considering how slender was his
+acquaintance with Mr. David Arden, was, to say the least, a little bold
+and odd. They had not very far to walk before reaching the gate, so, a
+little abruptly turning the course of their talk, Mr. Longcluse said,
+with a chilly little laugh, and a smile more pallid than ever in the
+moonlight--
+
+"By-the-bye, we were talking of that shocking occurrence in the Saloon
+Tavern; and connected with it, I have had two threatening letters."
+
+"Indeed!" said David Arden.
+
+"Fact, I assure you," said Mr. Longcluse, with a shrug and another cold
+little laugh.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXII.
+
+MR. LONGCLUSE MAKES AN ODD CONFIDENCE.
+
+
+David Arden looked at Mr. Longcluse with a sudden glance, that was, for
+a moment, shrinking and sharp. This confidence connected with such a
+scene chimed in, with a harmony that was full of pain, with the utterly
+vague suspicions that had somehow got into his imagination.
+
+"Yes, and I have been a little puzzled," continued Longcluse. "They say
+the man who is his own lawyer has a fool for his client; but there are
+other things besides law to which the spirit of the canon more strongly
+still applies. I think you could give me just the kind of advice I need,
+if you were not to think my asking it too great a liberty. I should not
+dream of doing so if the matter were simply a private one, and began and
+ended in myself; but you will see in a moment that public interests of
+some value are involved, and I am a little doubtful whether the course I
+am taking is in all respects the right one. I have had two threatening
+letters; would you mind glancing at them? The moon is so brilliant, one
+has no difficulty in reading. This is the first. And may I ask you,
+kindly, until I shall have determined, I hope, with your aid, upon a
+course, to treat the matter as quite between ourselves? I have mentioned
+it to but one other person."
+
+"Certainly," said David, "you have a right to your own terms."
+
+He took the letter and stopped short where he was, unfolding it. The
+light was quite sufficient, and he read the odd and menacing letter
+which Mr. Longcluse had received a few evenings before, as we know, at
+Lady May's. It was to the following effect:
+
+    "SIR,--The unfortunate situation in which you stand, the proof being
+    so, as you must suppose, makes it necessary for you to act
+    considerately, and no nonsense can be permitted by your well
+    wishers. The poor man has his conscience all one as as the rich, and
+    must be cautious as well as him. I can not put myself in no dainger
+    for you, Sir, nor won't hold back the truth, so welp me. I have
+    heerd tell of your boote bin took away. I would be happy to lend an
+    and, Sir, to recover that property. How all will end otherwise I
+    regrett. Knowing well who it will be that takes so mutch consern for
+    your safety, you cannot doubt who I am, and if you wishes to meat me
+    quiet to consult, you need only to name the place and time in the
+    times newspaper, which I sees it every day. It must be put part in
+    one days times, for the daite, saying a friend will show on sich a
+    night, and in next days times for the place, saying the dogs will
+    meet at sich and sich a place, and it shall hev the attenshen of
+    your
+
+    FAST FREND."
+
+"That's a cool letter, upon my word," said David Arden. "Have you an
+idea who wrote it?"
+
+"Yes, a very good guess. I'll tell you all that if you allow me, just
+now. I should say, indeed, an absolute certainty, for I have had another
+this afternoon with the name of the writer signed, and he turns out to
+be the very man whom I suspected. Here it is."
+
+David Arden's curiosity was piqued. He took the last note and read as
+follows:--
+
+    "SIR,--My last Letter must have came to Hand, and you been in reseet
+    of it since the 11th instant, has took no Notice thereoff, I have No
+    wish for justice, as you may Suppose, and has no Fealing against you
+    Mr. Longcluse Persanelly and to shew you plainly that Such is the
+    case, I will meet you for an intervue if such is your Wishes in your
+    Own house, if you should Rayther than name another place. I do not
+    objeck To one frend been Present providing such Be not a lawyer. The
+    subjek been Dellicat, I will Attend any hour and Place you appoint.
+    If you should faile I must put my Proofs in the hands of the police,
+    for I will take it for a sure sine of guilt if you fail after this
+    to appoint for a meating.
+
+    "I remain, Sir, Your obedient servent,
+    "PAUL DAVIES.
+
+    "No. 2 Rosemary Court."
+
+"Well, that's pretty frank," said Longcluse, observing that he had read
+to the end.
+
+"Extremely. What do you suppose his object to be--to extort money?"
+
+"Possibly; but he may have another object. In any case, he wants to make
+money by this move."
+
+"Very audacious, then. He must know, if he is fit for his trade, how
+much risk there is in it; and his signing his name and address to his
+letter, and seeking an interview with a witness by seems to me utterly
+infatuated," said David Arden, with his eye upon Mr. Longcluse.
+
+"So it does, except upon one supposition; I mean that the man believes
+his story," said Mr. Longcluse, walking beside him, for they had resumed
+their march towards the gate.
+
+"Really! believes that you committed the murder?" said Uncle David,
+again coming to a halt and looking full at him.
+
+"I can't quite account for it otherwise," said Longcluse; "and I think
+the right course is for me to meet him. But I have no intimacies in
+London, and that is my difficulty."
+
+"How? Why don't you arrest him?" said David Arden.
+
+David Arden had seldom felt so oddly. A quarter-of-an-hour since, he
+expected to have been seated in his carriage with his ward and Vivian
+Darnley, driving into town in quiet humdrum fashion, by this time. How
+like a dream was the actual scene! Here he was, standing on the grass
+among the noble timber, under the moonlight, with the pale face beside
+him which had begun to haunt him so oddly. The strange smile of his
+mysterious companion, the cold tone that jarred sweetly, somehow, on his
+ear, lending a sinister eccentricity to the extraordinary confession he
+was making.
+
+In this situation, which had come about almost unaccountably, there was
+a strange feeling of unreality. Was this man, from whom he had felt an
+indescribable repulsion, now by his side, and drawing him, in this
+solitude, into a mysterious confidence? and had not this confidence an
+unaccountable though distant relation to the vague suspicions that had
+touched his mind? With a little effort he resumed,--
+
+"I beg pardon, but if the case were mine I should put the letters at
+once into the hands of the police and prosecute him."
+
+"Precisely my own first impulse. But the letters are more cautiously
+framed than you might at first sight suppose. I should be placed in an
+awkward position were my prosecution to fail. _I_ am obliged to think of
+this because, although I am nothing to the public, I am a good deal to
+myself. But I've resolved to take a course not less bold, though less
+public. I am determined to meet him face to face with an unexceptionable
+witness present, and to discover distinctly whether he acts from fraud
+or delusion, and then to proceed accordingly. I have communicated with
+him."
+
+"Oh, really!"
+
+"Yes, I was clear I ought to meet him, but I would consent to nothing
+with an air of concealment."
+
+"I think you were right, Sir."
+
+"He wanted our meeting by night on board a Thames boat; then in a
+dilapidated house in Southwark; then in a deserted house that is to be
+let in Thames Street; but I named my own house, in Bolton Street, at
+half-past twelve to-night."
+
+"Then you really wish to see him. I suppose you have thought it well
+over; but I am always for taking such miscreants promptly by the throat.
+However, as you say, cases differ, and I daresay you are well advised."
+
+"And now may I venture a request, which, were it not for two facts
+within my knowledge, I should not presume to make? But I venture it to
+you, who take so special an interest in this case, because you have
+already taken trouble and, like myself, contributed money to aid the
+chances of discovery; and because only this evening you said you would
+bestow more labour, more time, and more money with pleasure to procure
+the least chance of an additional light upon it: now it strikes me as
+just possible that the writer of those letters may be, to some extent,
+honest. Though utterly mistaken about me, still he may have evidence to
+give, be it worth much or little; and so, Mr. Arden, having the pleasure
+of being known to some members of your family, although till to-night by
+name only to you, I beg as a great kindness to a man in a difficulty,
+and possibly in the interests of the public, that you will be so good as
+to accompany me, and be present at the interview, that cannot be so well
+conducted before any other witness whom I can take with me."
+
+David Arden paused for a moment, but independently quite of his interest
+in this case: he felt a strange curiosity about this pale man, whose
+eyes from under their oblique brows gleamed back the cold moonlight;
+while a smile, the character of which a little puzzled him, curled his
+nostril and his thin lip, and showed the glittering edge of his teeth.
+Did it look like treachery? or was it defiance, or derision? It was a
+face, thus seen, so cadaverous and Mephistophelian, that an artist would
+have given something for a minute to fix a note of it in white and
+black.
+
+David Arden was not to be disturbed in a practical matter by a pictorial
+effect, however, and in another moment he said--
+
+"Yes, Mr. Longcluse, as you desire it I will accompany you, and see this
+fellow, and hear what he has to say. _Certainly._"
+
+"That's very kind--only what I should have expected, also, from your
+public spirit. I'm extremely obliged."
+
+They resumed their walk towards the gate.
+
+"I shall get into my brougham and call at home, to tell them not to
+expect me for an hour or so. And what is the number of your house?"
+
+He told him; and David Arden having offered to take him, in his
+carriage, to the place where his own awaited him, which however he
+declined, they parted for a little time, and Mr. Arden's brougham
+quickly disappeared under the shadow of the tall trees that lined the
+curving road.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXIII.
+
+THE MEETING.
+
+
+As David Arden drove towards town, his confusion rather increased. Why
+should Mr. Longcluse select him for this confidence? There were men in
+the City whom he must know, if not intimately, at least much better than
+he knew him. It was a very strange occurrence; and was not Mr.
+Longcluse's manner, also, strange? Was he not, somehow, very oddly cool
+under a charge of murder? There was something, it seemed, indefinably
+incongruous in the nature of his story, his request, and his manner.
+
+                   *       *       *       *       *
+
+It was five or ten minutes before the appointed time when David Arden
+and Longcluse met in the latter gentleman's "study" in Bolton Street.
+There was a slight, odd flutter at Longcluse's heart, although his pale
+face betrayed no sign of agitation, as the shuffling tread of a heavy
+foot was heard on the doorsteps, followed by a faint knock, like that of
+a tremulous postman. It was the preconcerted summons of Mr. Paul Davies.
+
+Longcluse smiled at David Arden and raised his finger, as he lightly
+drew near the room door, with an air of warning. He wished to remind his
+companion that he was to receive their visitor alone. Mr. Arden nodded,
+and Mr. Longcluse withdrew. In a minute more the servant opened the
+study-door, and said--"Mr. Davies, Sir."
+
+And the tall ex-detective entered, and looked with a silky simper
+stealthily to the right and to the left from the corners of his eyes,
+and glided in, shutting the door behind him.
+
+Uncle David received this man without even a nod. He eyed him sternly,
+from his chair at the end of the table.
+
+"Sit in that chair, please," said he, pointing to a seat at the other
+end.
+
+The ex-policeman made his best bow, and turning out his toes very much,
+he shuffled with his habitual sly smirk on, to the chair, in which he
+seated himself, and with his big red hands on the table began turning,
+and twisting, and twiddling a short pencil, which was a good deal bitten
+at the uncut end, between his fingers and thumbs.
+
+"You came here to see Mr. Longcluse?" asked David Arden.
+
+"A few words of business at his desire. Sir, I ask your parding, I came,
+Sir, by his wishes, not mine, which has brought me here at his request."
+
+"And who am I, do you suppose?"
+
+The man, still smiling, looked at him shrewdly. "Well, I don't know, I'm
+sure; I may 'a' seen you."
+
+"Did you ever see that gentleman?" said David Arden, as Mr. Longcluse
+entered the room.
+
+The ex-detective looked also shrewdly at Longcluse, but without any
+light of recognition. "I may have seen him, Sir. Yes, I saw him in Saint
+George's, Hanover Square, the day Lord Charles Dillingsworth married
+Miss Wygram, the _hairess_. I saw him at Sydenham the second week in
+February last when the Freemasons' dinner was there; and I saw him on
+the night of the match between Hood and Markham, at the Saloon Tavern."
+
+"Do you know my name?" said David Arden.
+
+"Well, no, I don't at present remember."
+
+"Do you know that gentleman's name?"
+
+"His name?"
+
+"Ay, his name."
+
+"Well, no; I may have heard it, and I may bring it to mind, by-and-by."
+
+Longcluse smiled and shrugged, looking at Mr. Arden, and he said to the
+man--
+
+"So you don't know _that_ gentleman's name, nor mine?"
+
+The man looked at each, hard and a little anxiously, like a person who
+feels that he may be making a very serious mistake; but after a pause he
+said decisively--"No, I don't at present. I say I don't know your names,
+either of you gentlemen, and I _don't_."
+
+The two gentlemen exchanged glances.
+
+"Is either of us as tall as Mr. Longcluse?" asked David Arden, standing
+up.
+
+The man stood up also, to make his inspection.
+
+"You're both," he said, after a pause, "much about his height."
+
+"Is either of us like him?"
+
+"No," answered Davies, after a pause.
+
+"Did you write these letters?" asked Mr. Longcluse laughing.
+
+"Well, I did, or I didn't, and what's that to you?"
+
+"Something, as you shall know presently."
+
+"I think you're trying it on. I reckon this is a bit of a plant. I don't
+care a scratch o' that pencil if it be. I wrote them letters, and I said
+nothin' but what's true, and I'll go with you now to the station if you
+like, and tell all I knows."
+
+The fellow seemed nettled, and laughed viciously a little, and swaggered
+at the close of his speech. The faintest flush imaginable tinged
+Longcluse's forehead, as he shot a searching glance at him.
+
+"No, we don't want that," said he; "but you may be of more use in
+another way, although just now you are in the wrong box, and have
+mistaken your man, for _I_ am Mr. Longcluse. You have been misinformed,
+you see, as to the identity of the person you suspect; but some person
+you have, no doubt, in your mind, and possibly a case worth sifting,
+although you have been deceived as to his name. Describe the appearance
+of the man you supposed to be Mr. Longcluse. You may be frank with me; I
+mean you no harm."
+
+"I defy any man to harm me, Sir, if you please, so long as I do my
+dooty," said Paul Davies. "Mr. Longcluse, if that be his name, the man I
+mean, he's about your height, with round shoulders and red hair, and
+talks with a north-country twang on his tongue; he's a bit rougher, and
+a swaggerin' cove, and a yard o' red beard over his waistcoat, and
+bigger hands a deal than you, and broader feet."
+
+"And have you a case against him?"
+
+"Partly, but it ain't, Sir, if you please, by no means so complete as
+would answer as yet. If I was sure you were really Mr. Longcluse, I
+could say more, for I partly guess who this other gent is--a most
+respectable party. I think I do know you, Sir, by appearance; if you had
+your 'at on, Sir, I could say to a certainty. But I think, Sir, if you
+please, I'm not very far wrong when I say that I would identify you for
+Mr. David Arden."
+
+"So I am; that is quite true."
+
+"Thank you, Sir, I am obleeged; that's very quietin' to my mind, Sir,
+having full confidence in your character; and if you, Sir, please to
+tell me _that_ gentleman is undoubtingly Mr. Longcluse, the propperieter
+of this house, I must 'a' been let into a mistake; I don't think they
+was agreenin' of me, but it was a mistake, if you please, Sir, if you
+say so."
+
+"This is Mr. Longcluse--I know of no other--and he resides in this
+house," said David Arden. "But if you have information to give
+respecting that red-bearded fellow, there is no reason why you should
+not give it forthwith to the police."
+
+"Parding me, Sir, if you please, Mr. Arden. There is, I would say,
+strong reasons for a poor man in rayther anxious circumstances, like
+myself, Sir, 'aving an affectionate mother to, in a measure, support,
+and been himself unfortunately rayther hard up, he can't answer it nohow
+to his conscience if he lets a hoppertunity like the present pass him
+and his aged mother by unimproved. There been a reward offered, Sir, I
+naturally wish, Sir, if you please, to earn it myself by valuable
+evidence leading to the conviction of the guilty cove; and if I was to
+tell all I knows and 'av' made out by my own hindustry to the force,
+Sir, other persons would, don't you conceive, Sir, draw the reward, and
+me and my mother should go without. If I could get a hinterview with the
+man I 'av' bin a-gettin' things together for, I'd lead him, I 'av' no
+doubt, to make such hadmissions as would clench the prosecution, and
+vendicate justice."
+
+"I see what you mean," said David Arden.
+
+"And fair enough, I think," added Longcluse.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXIV.
+
+MR. LONGCLUSE FOLLOWS A SHADOW.
+
+
+The ex-detective cleared his voice, shook his head, and smirked.
+
+"A hinterview, gentlemen," said he, "is worth much in the hands of a
+persuasive party. I have hanged several obnoxious characters, and let
+others in for penal for life, by means of a hinterview. You remember
+Spikes, gentlemen, as got into difficulties for breaking Mr.
+Winterbotham's desk? Spikes would have frusterated justice, if it wasn't
+for me. It was done in one hinterview. Says I, 'Mr. Spikes, you have a
+wife and five children.'"
+
+The recollection of Mr. Paul Davies' diplomacy was so gratifying to that
+smiling gentleman, that he could not forbear winking at his auditors as
+he proceeded.
+
+"'And my belief is, Mr. Spikes, Sir,'" he continued, "'that it was all
+the hinfluence of Tom Sprowles. It was Sprowles persuaded yer--it was
+him as got the whole thing up. That's my belief; and you did not want to
+do it, no-wise, and only consented to force the henges in the belief
+that Sprowles wanted to read the papers, and no more. I have a bad
+opinion of Sprowles,' says I, 'for deceiving you, I may say innocently;'
+and talking this way, you conceive, I got it all out of him, and he's
+under penal for life. Whenever you want to get round a man, and to turn
+him inside out, your way is to sympath_ise_ with him. If I had but an
+hinterview with that man, I know enough to draw it out of him, every
+bit. It's all done by sympath_ising_."
+
+"But do you think you can discover the man?" asked Mr. Arden.
+
+"I'm sure to make him out, if you please, Sir; I'll find out all about
+him. I'd a found out the facks long ago, but for the mistake, which it
+occurred most unlucky. I saw him twice sence, and I know well where to
+look for him; and I'll have it all right before long, I'm thinkin'."
+
+"That will do, then, for the present," said Mr. Longcluse. "You have
+said all you have to say, and you see into what a serious mistake you
+have blundered; but I sha'n't give you any trouble about it--it is too
+ridiculous. Good-night, Mr. Davies."
+
+"No mistake of mine, Sir, please. Misinformed, Sir, you will kindly
+remark--misinformed, if you please--misinformed, as may occur to the
+sharpest party going. Good-night, gentlemen; I takes my leave without no
+unpleasant feelin', and good wishes for your 'ealth and 'appiness, both,
+gentlemen." And blandly, and with a sly sleepy smile, this insinuating
+person withdrew.
+
+"It is the reward he is thinking of," said Longcluse.
+
+"Yes, he won't spare himself; you mentioned that your own suspicions
+respecting him were but vague," said David Arden.
+
+"I merely stated what I saw to the coroner, and it was answered that he
+was watching the Frenchman Lebas, because the detective police, before
+Paul Davies' dismissal, had received orders to keep an eye on all
+foreigners; and he hoped to conciliate the authorities, and get a
+pension, by collecting and furnishing information. The police did not
+seem to think his dogging and watching the unfortunate little fellow
+really meant more than this."
+
+"Very likely. It is a very odd affair. I wonder who that fellow is whom
+he described. He did not give a hint as to the circumstances which
+excited his suspicions."
+
+"It _is_ strange. But that man, Paul Davies, kept his eye upon Lebas
+from the motive I mentioned, and this circumstance may have led to his
+seeing more of the matter than, with the reward in his mind, he cares to
+make known at present. I think I did right in meeting him face to face."
+
+"Quite right, Sir."
+
+"It has been always a rule with me to go straight at everything. I think
+the best diplomacy is directness, and that the truest caution lies in
+courage."
+
+"Precisely my opinion, Mr. Longcluse," said Uncle David, looking on him
+with eyes of approbation. He was near adding something hearty in the
+spirit of our ancestors' saying, "I hope you and I, Sir, may be better
+acquainted;" but something in the look and peculiar face of this unknown
+Mr. Longcluse chilled him, and he only said--
+
+"As you say, Mr. Longcluse, courage is safety, and honesty the best
+policy. Good-night, Sir."
+
+"A thousand thanks, Mr. Arden. Might I ask one more favour, that you
+will endorse on each of these threatening letters a memorandum of the
+facts of this strange interview?--I mean a sentence or two, which may at
+any time confound this fellow, should he turn out to be a villain."
+
+"Certainly," said Mr. Arden thoughtfully, and he sat down again, and
+wrote a few lines on the back of each, which, having signed, he handed
+them to Mr. Longcluse, with the question, "Will that answer?"
+
+"Perfectly, thank you very much; it is indeed impossible for me to thank
+you as I ought and wish to," said Mr. Longcluse with effusion, extending
+his hand at the same time; but Mr. Arden took it without much warmth,
+and said, in comparison a little drily--
+
+"No need to thank me, Mr. Longcluse; as you said at first, there are
+motives quite sufficient, of a kind for which you can owe me,
+personally, no thanks whatever, to induce the very slight trouble of
+coming here."
+
+"Well, Mr. Arden, I _am_ very _much_ obliged to you, notwithstanding;"
+and so he gratefully saw him to the door, and smiled and bowed him off,
+and stood for a moment as his carriage whirled down the short street.
+
+"He does not like me--nor I, perhaps, him. Ha! ha! ha!" he laughed, very
+softly and reservedly, looking down on the flags. "What an odd thing it
+is! Those instincts and antipathies, they are very odd." All this,
+except the faint laughter, was in thought.
+
+Mr. Longcluse stepped back. He was negatively happy--he was rid of an
+anxiety. He was positively happy--he had been better received by Miss
+Arden, this evening, than he had ever been before. So he went to his bed
+with a light heart, and a head full of dreams.
+
+All the next day, one beautiful image haunted Longcluse's imagination.
+He was delayed in town; he had to consult about operations in foreign
+stocks; he had many words to say, directions to modify, and calls to
+make on this man and that. He had hoped to be at Mortlake Hall at three
+o'clock. But it was past six before he could disentangle himself from
+the tenacious meshes of his business. Never had he thought it so
+irksome. Was he not rich enough--too rich? Why should he longer submit
+to a servitude so wearisome? It was high time he should begin to enjoy
+his days in the sunshine of his gold and the companionship of his
+beautiful idol. But "man proposes," says the ancient saw, "and God
+disposes."
+
+It was just seven o'clock when Mr. Longcluse descended at the steps of
+old Mortlake Hall.
+
+Sir Reginald, who is writhing under a letter from the attorney of the
+millionaire mortgagee of his Yorkshire estate, making an alternative
+offer, either to call in the principal sum or to allow it to stand out
+on larger interest, had begged of Mr. Longcluse, last night, to give him
+a few words of counsel some day. He had, in a quiet talk the evening
+before, taken the man of huge investments rather into his confidence.
+
+"I don't know, Mr.--a--Mr. Longcluse, whether you are aware how cruelly
+my property is tied up," he said, as he talked in a low tone with him,
+in a corner of the drawing-room. "A life estate, and my son, who
+declines bearing any part of the burden of his own extravagance, will do
+nothing to facilitate my efforts to pay his debts for him; and I declare
+solemnly, if they raise the interest on this very oppressive mortgage, I
+don't know how on earth I can pay my insurances. I don't see how I am to
+do it. I should be so extremely obliged to you, Mr. Longcluse, if you
+would, with your vast experience and knowledge in all--all financial
+matters, give me any advice that strikes you--if you could, with perfect
+convenience, afford so much time. I don't really know what rate of
+interest is usual. I only know this, that interest, as a rule, has been
+steadily declining ever since I can remember--perpetually declining; I
+mean, of course, upon perfect security like this; and now this
+confounded harpy wants, after ten years, to _raise_ it! I believe they
+want to drive me out of the world, among them! and they well know the
+cruelty of it, for I have never been able to pay them a single half-year
+punctually. Will you take some tea?"
+
+So Longcluse had promised his advice very gladly next day; and now he
+asked for Sir Reginald. Sir Reginald was very particularly engaged at
+this moment on business; Mr. Arden was with him at present; but if Mr.
+Longcluse would wait for a few minutes, Sir Reginald would be most happy
+to see him. So there was to be a little wait. How could he better pass
+the interval than in Miss Arden's company?
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXV.
+
+A TETE-A-TETE.
+
+
+Up to the drawing-room went Mr. Longcluse, and there he found Miss Arden
+finishing a drawing. He fancied a very slight flush on her cheek as he
+entered. Was there really a heightening of that beautiful tint as she
+smiled? How lovely her long lashes, and her even little teeth, and the
+lustrous darkness of her eyes, in that subdued light!
+
+"I so wanted advice, Mr. Longcluse, and you have come in so fortunately!
+I am not satisfied with my sky and mountains, and the foreground where
+the light touches that withered branch is a horrible failure. In nature,
+it looked quite beautiful. I remember it so well. It looked on fire,
+almost. This is Saxteen Castle, near Golden Friars, and that is a bit of
+the lake and those are the fells. I sketched it in pencil, and trusted
+to memory for colouring. It was just at the most picturesque moment,
+when the sun was going down between the two mountains that overhang the
+little town on the west."
+
+"Sunset is very well expressed. You indicated all those long shadows,
+Miss Arden, in pencil, and I envy your perspective, and I think your
+colouring so extremely good! The distances are admirably marked. Try a
+little cadmium, burnt sienna, and lake for the intense touches of light
+in the foreground, on that barkless branch. Your own eye will best
+regulate the proportions. I am one of those vandals who prefer colour a
+little too bold and overdone to any timidity in that respect. Exuberance
+in a beginner is always, in my mind, an augury of excellence. It is so
+easy to moderate afterwards."
+
+"Yes, I daresay; I'm very glad you advise that, because I always thought
+so myself; but I was half afraid to act on it. I think that is about the
+tint--a little more yellow, perhaps. Yes; how does it look now?--what do
+you think?"
+
+"Now judge yourself, Miss Arden. Do not those three sharp little touches
+of reflected fire light up the whole drawing? I say it is admirable. It
+is really quite a beautiful little drawing."
+
+"I'm growing so vain! you will quite spoil me, Mr. Longcluse."
+
+"Truth will never spoil any one. Praise is very delightful. I have not
+had much of it in my day, but I think it makes one better as well as
+happier; and to speak simple truth of you, Miss Arden, is inevitably to
+praise you."
+
+"Those are compliments, Mr. Longcluse, and they bewilder me--anything
+one does not know how to answer; so I would rather you pointed me out
+four or five faults in my drawing, and I should be very well content if
+you said no more. I believe you know the scenery of Golden Friars."
+
+"I do. Beautiful, and so romantic, and full of legends! the whole place
+with its belongings is a poem."
+
+"So I think. And the hotel--the inn I prefer calling it--the 'George and
+Dragon,' is so picturesque and delightfully old, and so comfortable! Our
+head-quarters were there for two or three weeks. And did you see Childe
+Waylin's Leap?"
+
+"Yes, an awful scene; what a terrible precipice! I saw it to great
+advantage from a boat, while a thunderstorm was glaring and pealing over
+its summit. You know the legend, of course?"
+
+"No, I did not hear it."
+
+"Oh, it is a very striking one, and won't take many words to tell. Shall
+I tell it?"
+
+"Pray do," said Alice, with her bright look of expectation.
+
+He smiled sadly. Perhaps the story returned with an allegoric melancholy
+to his mind. With a sigh and a smile he continued--
+
+"Childe Waylin fell in love with a phantom lady, and walked day and
+night along the fells--people thought in solitude, really lured on by
+the beautiful apparition, which, as his love increased, grew less
+frequent, more distant and fainter, until at last, in the despair of his
+wild pursuit, he threw himself over that terrible precipice, and so
+perished. I have faith in instinct--faith in passion, which is but a
+form of instinct. I am sure he did wisely."
+
+"I sha'n't dispute it; it is not a case likely to happen often. These
+phantom ladies seem to have given up practice of late years, or else
+people have become proof against their wiles, and neither follow, nor
+adore, nor lament them."
+
+"I don't think these phantom ladies are at all out of date," said Mr.
+Longcluse.
+
+"Well, men have grown wiser, at all events."
+
+"No wiser, no happier; in such a case there is no room for what the
+world calls wisdom. Passion is absolute, and as for happiness, that or
+despair hangs on the turn of a die."
+
+"I have made that shadow a little more purple--do you think it an
+improvement?"
+
+"Yes, certainly. How well it throws out that bit of the ruin that
+catches the sunlight! You have made a very poetical sketch; you have
+given not merely the outlines, but the character of that singular
+place--the _genus loci_ is there."
+
+Just as Mr. Longcluse had finished this complimentary criticism, the
+door opened, and rather unexpectedly Richard Arden entered the room.
+Very decidedly _de trop_ at that moment, his friend thought Mr. Arden.
+Longcluse meant again to have turned the current of their talk into the
+channel he liked best, and here was interruption. But was not Richard
+Arden his sworn brother, and was he not sure to make an excuse of some
+sort, and take his leave, and thus restore him to his _tete-a-tete_.
+
+But was there--or was it fancy--a change scarcely perceptible, but
+unpleasant, in the manner of this sworn brother? Was it not very
+provoking, and a little odd, that he did not go away, but stayed on and
+on, till at length a servant came in with a message from Sir Reginald to
+Mr. Longcluse, to say that he would be very happy to see him whenever he
+chose to come to his room? Mr. Longcluse was profoundly vexed. Richard
+Arden, however, had resumed his old manner pretty nearly. Was the
+interruption he had persisted in designed, or only accidental? Could he
+suppose Richard Arden so stupid? He took his leave smiling, but with an
+uncomfortable misgiving at his heart.
+
+Richard Arden now proceeded in his own way, with some colouring and
+enormous suppression at discretion, to give his sister such an account
+as he thought would best answer of the interview he had just had with
+his father. Honestly related, what occurred between them was as
+follows:--
+
+Richard Arden had come on summons from his father. Without a special
+call, he never appeared at Mortlake while his father was there, and
+never in his absence but with an understanding that Sir Reginald was to
+hear nothing of it. He sat for a considerable time in the apartment that
+opened from his father's dressing-room. He heard the baronet's peevish
+voice ordering Crozier about. Something was dropped and broken, and the
+same voice was heard in angrier alto. Richard Arden looked out of the
+window and waited uncomfortably. He hated his father's pleadings with
+him, and he did not know for what purpose he had appointed this
+interview.
+
+The door opened, and Sir Reginald entered, limping a little, for his
+gout had returned slightly. He was leaning on a stick. His thin, dark
+face and prominent eyes looked angry, and he turned about and poked his
+dressing-room door shut with the point of his stick, before taking any
+notice of his son.
+
+"Sit down, if you please, in that chair," he said, pointing to the
+particular seat he meant him to occupy with two vicious little pokes, as
+if he were running a small-sword through it. "I wrote to ask you to
+come, Sir, merely to say a word respecting your sister, for whom, if not
+for other members of your family, you still retain, I suppose, some
+consideration and natural affection."
+
+Here was a pause which Richard Arden did not very well know what to do
+with. However, as his father's fierce eyes were interrogating him, he
+murmured--
+
+"Certainly, Sir."
+
+"Yes, and under that impression I showed you Lord Wynderbroke's letter.
+He is to dine here to-morrow at a quarter to eight--please to
+recollect--precisely. Do you hear?"
+
+"I do, Sir, everything."
+
+"You must meet him. Let us not appear more divided than we are. You know
+Wynderbroke--he's peculiar. Why the devil shouldn't we appear united? I
+don't say _be_ united, for you won't. But there is something owed to
+decency. I suppose you admit that? And before people, confound you, Sir,
+can't we appear affectionate? He's a quiet man, Wynderbroke, and makes a
+great deal of these domestic sentiments. So you'll please to show some
+respect and affection while he's present, and I mean to show some
+affection for you; and after that, Sir, you may go to the devil for me!
+I hope you understand?"
+
+"Perfectly, Sir."
+
+"As to Wynderbroke, the thing is settled--it is _there_." He pointed to
+his desk. "What I told you before, I tell you now--you must see that
+your sister doesn't make a fool of herself. I have nothing more to say
+to you at present--unless you have something to say to me?"
+
+This latter part of the sentence had something sharp and interrogative
+in it. There was just a chance, it seemed to imply, that his son might
+have something to say upon the one point that lay near the old man's
+heart.
+
+"Nothing, Sir," said Richard, rising.
+
+"No, no; so I supposed. You may go, Sir--nothing."
+
+Of this interview, one word of the real purport of which he could not
+tell to his sister, he gave her an account very slight indeed, but
+rather pleasant.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXVI.
+
+THE GARDEN AT MORTLAKE.
+
+
+Alice leaned back in her chair, smiling, and very much pleased.
+
+"So my father seems disposed to relent ever so little--and ever so
+little, you know, is better than nothing," said Richard Arden.
+
+"I'm so glad, Dick, that he wishes you to take your dinner with us
+to-morrow; it is a very good sign. It would be so delightful if you
+could be at home with us, as you used to be."
+
+"You are a good little soul, Alice--a dear little thing! This is very
+pretty," he said, looking at her drawing. "What is it?"
+
+"The ruined castle near the northern end of the lake at Golden Friars.
+Mr. Longcluse says it is pretty good. Is he to dine here, do you know?"
+
+"No--I don't know--I hope not," said Richard shortly.
+
+"Hope not! why?" said she. "I thought you liked him extremely."
+
+"I thought he was very well for a sort of outdoor acquaintance for
+_men_; but I don't even know _that_, now. There's no use in speaking to
+Lady May, but I warn you--you had better drop him. There is very little
+known about him, but there is a great deal that is not pleasant _said_."
+
+"Really?"
+
+"Yes, really."
+
+"But you used to speak so highly of him. I'm so surprised!"
+
+"I did not know half what people said of him. I've heard a great deal
+since."
+
+"But is it true?" asked Alice.
+
+"It is nothing to me whether it is true or not. It is enough if a man is
+talked about uncomfortably, to make it unpleasant to know him. We owe
+nothing to Mr. Longcluse; there is no reason why you should have an
+acquaintance that is not desirable. _I_ mean to drop him quietly, and
+you _can't_ know him, really you _mustn't_, Alice."
+
+"I don't know. It seems to me very hard," said Miss Alice spiritedly.
+"It is not many days since you spoke of him so highly; and I was quite
+pained when you came in just now. I don't know whether he perceived it,
+but I think he must. I only know that I thought you were so cold and
+strange to him, your manner so unlike what it always was before. I
+thought you had been quarrelling. I fancied he was vexed, and I felt
+quite sorry; and I don't think what you say, Richard, is manly, or like
+yourself. You used to praise him so, and fight his battles; and he is,
+though very distinguished in some ways, rather a stranger in London; and
+people, you told me, envy him, and try in a cowardly way to injure him;
+and what more easy than to hint discreditable things of people? and you
+did not believe a word of those reports when last you spoke of him; and
+considering that he had no people to stand by him in London, or to take
+his part, and that he may never even hear the things that are said by
+low people about him, don't you think it would be cowardly of us, and
+positively base to treat him so?"
+
+"Upon my word, Miss Alice, that is very good oratory indeed! I don't
+think I ever heard you so eloquent before, at least upon the wrongs of
+one of my sex."
+
+"Now, Dick, that sneer won't do. There may possibly be reasons why it
+would have been wiser never to have made Mr. Longcluse's acquaintance; I
+can't say. Those reasons, however, you treated very lightly indeed a
+little time ago--you know you did--and now, upon no better, you say you
+are going to cut him. _I_ can't bring myself to do any such thing. He is
+always looking in at Lady May's, and I can't help meeting him unless I
+am to cut her also. Now don't you see how odious I should appear, and
+how impossible it is?"
+
+"I won't argue it now, dear Alice; there is quite time enough. I shall
+come an hour before dinner, to-morrow, and we can have a quiet talk; and
+I am quite sure I shall convince you. Mind, I don't say we should insult
+him," he laughed. "I only say this, and I'll maintain it--and I'll show
+you why--that he is not a desirable acquaintance. We have taken him up
+very foolishly, and we _must_ drop him. And now, darling, good-bye."
+
+He kissed her--she kissed him. She looked grave for a moment after,
+after he had run down the stairs. He has quarrelled with Mr. Longcluse
+about something, she thought, as she stood at the window with the tip of
+her finger to her lip, looking at her brother as he mounted the showy
+horse which had cantered with him up and down Rotten Row for two hours
+or more, before he had ridden out to Mortlake. She saw him now ride
+away.
+
+It was near eight o'clock, and all this time Mr. Longcluse had been in
+confidence with Sir Reginald about his miserable mortgage. Mr. Longcluse
+was cautious; but there floated in his mind certain possible
+contingencies, under which he might perhaps make the financial
+adjustment, which Sir Reginald desired, very easy indeed to the worthy
+baronet.
+
+It was the tempting hour of evening when the birds begin to sing, and
+the level beams from the west glorify all objects. Alice put on her hat
+and ran out to the old gardens of Mortlake. They are enclosed in a grey
+wall, and lie one above the other in three terraces, with tall standard
+fruit trees, so old that their fruit was now dwarfed in size to half its
+earlier bearings, standing high with a dark and sylvan luxuriance, and
+at this moment, sheltering among their sunlit leaves, nestle and flutter
+the small birds whose whistlings cheer and sadden the evening air. Every
+tree and bush that bore fruit, in this old garden, had grown quite
+beyond the common stature of its kind, and a good gardener would have
+cut them all down fifty years ago. But there was a kind of sylvan and
+stately beauty in those wonderful lofty pear-trees, with their dense
+dark foliage, and in the standard cherries so tall and prim, and
+something homely and comfortable in the great straggling apples and
+plums, dappled with grey lichens and tufted with moss. There were
+flowers as well as fruits, of all sorts, in this garden. All its
+arrangements were out of date. There was an air, not actually of
+neglect--for it was weeded, and the walks were trim and gravelled--but
+of carelessness and rusticity, not unpleasant, in the place. Trees were
+allowed to straggle and spread, and rise aloft in the air, just as they
+pleased. Tall roses climbed the walls about the door, and clustered in
+nodding masses overhead; and no end of pretty annuals and other flowers,
+quite out of fashion, crowded the dishevelled currant bushes, and the
+forest of raspberries. Here and there were very tall myrtles, and the
+quince, and obsolete medlars, were discoverable among the other
+fruit-trees. The summits of the walls were in some places crowned, to
+the scandal of all decent gardening, with ivy, and a carved shaft in the
+centre of each garden supported a sun-dial as old as the Hall itself.
+
+There are fancies, as well as likings and lovings. Where there is a real
+worship, however cautiously masked--and Mr. Longcluse was by no means
+so--it is never a mystery to a clever girl. And such adoration, although
+it be not at all reciprocated, is sometimes hard to part with. There is
+something of the nature of compassion, with a little gratitude, perhaps,
+mingling in the pang which a gentle lady feels at having to discharge
+for ever an honest love and a true servant, and send him away to
+solitary suffering for her sake. Some little pang of reproach of this
+sensitive kind had, perhaps, armed her against her brother's sudden
+sentence of exclusion pronounced against Mr. Longcluse.
+
+The evening sunlight travelled over the ivy on the discoloured wall, and
+glittered on the leaves of the tall fruit-trees, in whose thick foliage
+the birds were still singing their vespers. Walking down the broad walk
+towards the garden-door, she felt the saddening influence of the hour
+returning; and as she reached the door, overclustered with roses, it
+opened, and Mr. Longcluse stood in the shadow before her.
+
+Miss Arden, thus surprised in the midst of thoughts which at that moment
+happened to be employed about him, showed for a second, as she suddenly
+stopped, something in her beautiful face almost amounting to
+embarrassment.
+
+"I was called away so suddenly to see Sir Reginald, that I went without
+saying good-bye; so I ran up to the drawing-room, and the servant told
+me I should probably find you here; and, really without reflecting--I
+act, I'm afraid, so much from impulse that I might appear very
+impertinent--I ventured to follow. What a beautiful evening! How
+charming the light! You, who are such an artist, and understand the
+poetry of colour so, must admire this cloister-like garden, so
+beautifully illuminated."
+
+Was Mr. Longcluse also a very little embarrassed as he descanted thus on
+light and colour?
+
+"It is a very old garden and does very little credit, I'm afraid, to our
+care; but I greatly prefer it to our formal gardens and all their
+finery, in Yorkshire."
+
+She moved her hand as if she expected Mr. Longcluse to take it and his
+leave, for it was high time her visitor should "order his wings and be
+off the west," in which quarter, as we know, lay Mr. Longcluse's
+habitation. He had stepped in, however, and the door closed softly
+before the light evening breeze that swung it gently. She was standing
+under the wild canopy of roses, and he under the sterner arch of grooved
+and fluted stone that overhung the doorway.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXVII.
+
+WINGED WORDS.
+
+
+"I was afraid I had vexed your brother somehow," said Mr. Longcluse--"I
+thought he seemed to meet me a little formally. I should be so sorry if
+I had annoyed him by any accident!"
+
+He paused, and Miss Arden said, half laughing--"Oh, don't you know, Mr.
+Longcluse, that people are out of spirits sometimes, and now and then a
+little offended with all the world? It is nothing, of course."
+
+"What a fib!" whispered conscience in the young lady's pretty ear, while
+she smiled and blushed.
+
+Again she raised her hand a little, expecting Mr. Longcluse's farewell.
+But she looked a great deal too beautiful for a farewell. Mr. Longcluse
+could not deny himself a minute more, and he said, "It is a year, Miss
+Arden, since I first saw you."
+
+"Is it really? I daresay."
+
+"Yes, at Lady May Penrose's. Yes, I remember it distinctly--so
+distinctly that I shall never forget any circumstance connected with it.
+It is exactly a year and four days. You smile, Miss Arden, because for
+you the event can have had no interest; for me it is different--how
+different I will not say."
+
+Miss Arden coloured and then grew pale. She was very much embarrassed.
+She was about to say a word to end the interview, and go. Perhaps Mr.
+Longcluse was, as he said, impulsive--too precipitate and impetuous. He
+raised his hand entreatingly,--
+
+"Oh, Miss Arden, pray, only a word!--I must speak it. Ever since
+then--ever since that hour--I have been the slave of a single thought; I
+have worshipped before one beautiful image, with an impious adoration,
+for there is nothing--no sacrifice, no crime--I would shrink from for
+your sake. You can make of me what you will; all I possess, all my
+future, every thought and feeling and dream--all are yours. No, no;
+don't interrupt the few half desperate words I have to speak, they may
+move you to pity. Never before, in a life of terrible vicissitude, of
+much suffering, of many dangers, have I seen the human being who could
+move me as you have done. I did not believe my seared heart capable of
+passion. And I stand now aghast at what I have spoken. I stand at the
+brink of a worse death, by the word that trembles on your lips, than the
+cannon's mouth could give me. I see I have spoken rashly--I see it in
+your face--oh, Heaven! I see what you would say."
+
+His hands were clasped in desperate supplication, as he continued; and
+the fitful breeze shook the roses above them, and the fading leaves fell
+softly in a shower about his feet.
+
+"No, don't speak--your silence is sacred. I sha'n't misinterpret--I
+conjure you, don't answer! Forget that I have spoken. Oh! let it, in
+mercy, be all forgotten, and let us meet again as if there never had
+been this moment of madness, and in pity--as you look for mercy--forget
+it and forgive it!"
+
+He waited for no answer: he was gone: the door closed as it was before.
+Another breath of wind ruffled the roses, and a few more sere leaves
+fell where he had just been standing. She drew a long breath, like one
+awaking from a vision. She was trembling slightly. Never before had she
+seen such agony in a human face! All had happened so suddenly. It was an
+effort to believe it real. It seemed as if she could see nothing while
+he spoke, but that intense, pale face. She heard nothing but his deep
+and thrilling words. Now it seemed as if flowers, and trees, and wall,
+and roses, all emerged suddenly again from mist, and as if all the birds
+had resumed their singing after a silence.
+
+"Forget it--forgive it! Let it, as you look for mercy, be all forgotten.
+Let us meet again as if it never was." This strange petition still rang
+in the ears of the astonished girl.
+
+She was still too much flurried by the shock of this wild and sudden
+outbreak of passion, and appeal to mercy, quite to see her true course
+in the odd combination that had arisen. She was a little angry, and a
+little flattered. There was a confusion of resentment and compassion.
+What business had this Mr. Longcluse to treat her to those heroics! What
+right had he to presume that he would be listened to? How dared he ask
+her to treat all that had happened as if it had never been? How dared he
+seek to found on this unwarrantable liberty relations of mystery between
+them? How dared he fancy that she would consent to play at this game of
+deception with him?
+
+Mingled with these angry thoughts, however, were the recollections of
+his homage, his tone of melancholy deference ever since she had known
+him, and his admiration.
+
+Underlying all his trifling talk, there had always been toward her a
+respect which flattered her, which could not have been exceeded had she
+been an empress in her own right. No, if he had said more than he had
+any right to suppose would be listened to, the extravagance was due to
+no want of respect for her, but to the vehemence of passion.
+
+He was driving now into town, at a great pace. His cogitations were
+still more perturbed. Had he, by one frantic precipitation, murdered his
+best hopes?
+
+One consolation at least he had. Being a man, not without reason, prone
+to suspicion, he had a deep conviction that, for some reason, Richard
+Arden was opposed to his suit, and had already begun to work upon Miss
+Arden's mind to his prejudice. His best chance, then, he still thought,
+was to anticipate that danger by a declaration. If that declaration
+could only be forgiven, and the little scene at old Mortlake garden door
+sponged out, might not his chances stand better far than before? Would
+not the past, though never spoken of, give meaning, fire, and melancholy
+to things else insignificant, and keep him always before her, and her
+alone, be his demeanour and language ever so reserved and cold, as an
+impassioned lover? Did not his knowledge of human nature assure him that
+these relations of mystery would, more than any other, favour his
+fortunes?
+
+"That she should consign what has passed, in a few impetuous moments, to
+oblivion and silence, is no unreasonable prayer, and one as easy to
+grant as to will it. She will think it over, and, for my part, I will
+meet her as if nothing had ever happened to change our trifling but
+friendly relations. I wish I knew what Richard Arden was about. I soon
+shall. Yes, I shall--I soon shall."
+
+An opportunity seemed to offer sooner even than he had hoped; for as he
+drove towards St. James's Street, passing one of Richard Arden's clubs,
+he saw that young gentleman ascending the steps with Lord Wynderbroke.
+
+Longcluse stopped his brougham, jumped out, and overtook Richard Arden
+in the hall, where he stood, taking his letters from the hall-porter.
+
+"How d'ye do, again? I sha'n't detain you a minute. I have had a long
+talk with your father about business," said Longcluse, seizing the topic
+most likely to secure a few minutes, and speaking very low. "You can
+bring me into a room here, and I'll tell you all that is necessary in
+two minutes."
+
+"Certainly," said Richard, yielding to his curiosity. "I have only two
+or three minutes. I dine here with a friend, who is at this moment
+ordering dinner; so, you see, I am rather hurried."
+
+He opened a door, and looking in said--
+
+"Yes, we shall be quite to ourselves here."
+
+Longcluse shut the door. There was no one to overhear them.
+
+Richard Arden sat down on a sofa, and Mr. Longcluse threw himself into a
+chair.
+
+"And what did he say?" asked Richard.
+
+"They want to raise his interest on the Yorkshire estate; and he says
+you won't help him; but that of course is your affair, and I declined,
+point-blank, to intervene in it. And before I go further, it strikes me,
+as it did to-day at Mortlake, that your manner to me has undergone a
+slight change."
+
+"Has it? I did not mean it, I assure you," said Richard Arden, with a
+little laugh.
+
+"Oh! yes, Arden, it _has_, and you must know it, and--pardon me--you
+must _intend_ it also; and now I want to know what I have done, or how I
+have hurt you, or who has been telling lies of me?"
+
+"Nothing of all these, that I know of," said Richard, with a cold little
+laugh.
+
+"Well, of course, if you prefer it, you may decline an explanation. I
+must however, remind you, because it concerns my happiness, and possibly
+other interests dearer to me than my life, too nearly to be trifled
+with, that you heard all I said respecting your sister with the
+friendliest approbation and encouragement. You knew as much and as
+little about me then as you do now. I am not conscious of having said or
+done anything to warrant the slightest change in your feelings or
+opinion; and in your manner there _is_ a change, and a very decided
+change, and I tell you frankly I can't understand it."
+
+Thus directly challenged, Richard Arden looked at him hard for a moment.
+He was balancing in his mind whether he should evade or accept the
+crisis. He preferred the latter.
+
+"Well, I can only say I did not intend to convey anything by my manner;
+but, as you know, when there is anything in one's mind it is not always
+easy to prevent its affecting, as you say, one's manner. I am not sorry
+you have asked me, because I spoke without reflection the other day. No
+one should answer, I really think, for any one else, in ever so small a
+matter, in this world."
+
+"But you didn't--you spoke only for yourself. You simply promised me
+your friendship, your kind offices--you said, in fact, all I could have
+hoped for."
+
+"Yes, perhaps--yes, I may, I suppose I did. But don't you see, dear
+Longcluse, things may come to mind, on thinking over."
+
+"_What_ things?" demanded Longcluse quickly, with a sudden energy that
+called a flush to his temples; and fire gleamed for a moment from his
+deep-set, gloomy eyes.
+
+"What things? Why, young ladies are not always the most intelligible
+problems on earth. I think you ought to know that; and really I do
+think, in such matters, it is far better that they should be left to
+themselves as much as possible; and I think, besides, that there are
+some difficulties that did not strike us. I mean, that I now see that
+there really are great difficulties--insuperable difficulties."
+
+"Can you define them?" said Longcluse coldly.
+
+"I don't want to vex you, Longcluse, and I don't want to quarrel."
+
+"That's extremely kind of you."
+
+"I don't know whether you are serious, but it is quite true. I don't
+wish any unpleasantness between us. I don't think I need say more than
+that; having thought it over, I don't see how it could ever be."
+
+"Will you give me your reasons?"
+
+"I really don't see that I can add anything in particular to what I have
+said."
+
+"I think, Mr. Arden, considering all that has passed between us on this
+subject, that you are _bound_ to let me know your reasons for so marked
+a change of opinion."
+
+"I can't agree with you, Mr. Longcluse. I don't see in the least why I
+need tell you my particular reasons for the opinion I have expressed. My
+sister can act for herself, and I certainly shall not account to you for
+my reasons or opinions in the matter."
+
+Mr. Longcluse's pale face grew whiter, and his brows knit, as he fixed a
+momentary stare on the young man; but he mastered his anger, and said in
+a cold tone--
+
+"We disagree totally upon that point, and I rather think the time will
+come when you _must_ explain."
+
+"I have no more to say upon the subject, Sir, except this," said Arden,
+very tartly, "that it is certain your hopes can never lead to anything,
+and that I object to your continuing your visits at Mortlake."
+
+"Why, the house does not belong to you--it belongs to Sir Reginald
+Arden, who objects to your visits and receives mine. Your ideas seem a
+little confused," and he laughed gently and coldly.
+
+"Very much the reverse, Sir. I object to my sister being exposed to the
+least chance of annoyance from your visits. I protest against it, and
+you will be so good as to understand that I distinctly forbid them."
+
+"The young lady's father, I presume, will hardly ask your advice in the
+matter, and _I_ certainly shall not ask your leave. I shall call when I
+please, so long as I am received at Mortlake, and shall direct my own
+conduct, without troubling you for counsel in my affairs." Mr. Longcluse
+laughed again icily.
+
+"And so shall I, mine," said Arden sharply.
+
+"You have no right to treat anyone so," said Longcluse angrily--"as if
+one had broken his honour, or committed a crime."
+
+"A crime!" repeated Richard Arden. "Oh! _That_, indeed, would pretty
+well end all relations."
+
+"Yes, as, perhaps, you shall find," answered Longcluse, with sudden and
+oracular ferocity.
+
+Each gentleman had gone a little farther than he had at first intended.
+Richard Arden had a proud and fierce temper when it was roused. He was
+near saying what would have amounted to insult. It was a chance opening
+of the door that prevented it. Both gentlemen had stood up.
+
+"Please, Sir, have you done with the room, Sir?" asked the man.
+
+"Yes," said Longcluse, and laughed again as he turned on his heel.
+
+"Because three gentlemen want the room, if it's not engaged, Sir. And
+Lord Wynderbroke is waiting for you, please, Mr. Arden."
+
+So with a little toss of his head, which he held unusually high, and a
+flushed and "glooming" countenance, Richard Arden marched a little
+swaggeringly forth, to his dinner _tete-a-tete_ with Lord Wynderbroke.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXVIII.
+
+STORIES ABOUT MR. LONGCLUSE.
+
+
+The irritation of this unpleasant interview soon subsided, but Mr.
+Longcluse's anxiety rather increased.
+
+Next day early in the afternoon he drove to Lady May's and she received
+him just as usual. He learned from her, without appearing to seek the
+information, that Alice Arden was still at Mortlake. His visit was one
+of but two or three minutes. He jumped into a hansom and drove out to
+Mortlake. He knocked. Man of the world as he was, his heart beat faster.
+
+"Is Miss Arden at home?"
+
+"No, Sir."
+
+"Not at home?"
+
+"Miss Arden is gone out, Sir."
+
+"Oh! perhaps in the garden?"
+
+"No, Sir; she has gone out, and won't be back for some time."
+
+The man spoke with the promptitude and decision of a servant instructed
+to deny his mistress to the visitor. He had not a card; he would call
+again another day.
+
+He heard the piano faintly, and, he thought, Alice's voice also; and
+certainly he saw Vivian Darnley in the drawing-room window, as his cab
+turned away from the door. With a swelling heart he drove into town. The
+portcullis, then, had fallen; access was denied him; and he should see
+her no more!
+
+Good Heaven! what had he done? He walked distractedly, for a while, up
+and down his study. Should he employ Lady May's intervention, and tell
+her the whole story? Good-natured Lady May! Perhaps she would undertake
+his cause, and plead for his re-admission. But was even that so certain?
+How could he tell what view she might take of the matter? And were she
+to intercede for him ever so vehemently, how could he tell that she had
+any chance of prevailing?
+
+No; on the whole it was better to be his own advocate. He would sit down
+then and there, and write to the offended or alarmed lady, and lay his
+piteous case before her in his own words and rely on her compassion,
+without an intervenient.
+
+How many letters he began, how many he even finished, and rejected, I
+need not tire you by telling. Some were composed in the first, others in
+the third person. Not one satisfied him. Here was the man of a million
+and more, who would dash off a note to his stock-broker, to buy or sell
+a hundred thousand pounds' worth of stock--who would draft a resolution
+of the bank of which he was the chairman, directing an operation which
+would make men open their eyes, without the tremor of a nerve or the
+hesitation of a moment--unmanned, helpless, distracted in the endeavour
+to write a note to a young and inexperienced girl!
+
+O beautiful sex! what a triumph is here! O Love! what fools will you not
+make of us poor masculine wiseacres! The letter he dispatched was in
+these terms. I daresay he had torn better ones to pieces:--
+
+    "DEAR MISS ARDEN,--I had hoped that my profound contrition might
+    have atoned for a momentary indiscretion--the declaration, though in
+    terms the most respectful, of feelings which I had not self-command
+    sufficient to suppress, and which had for nearly a year remained
+    concealed in my own breast. I am sure, Miss Arden, that you are
+    incapable of a gratuitous cruelty. Have I not sworn that one word to
+    recall the remembrance of that, to me, all but fatal madness shall
+    never escape my lips, in your presence? May I not entreat that you
+    will forget it, that you will forbear to pass upon me the agonising
+    sentence of exclusion? You shall never again have to complain of my
+    uttering one word that the merest acquaintance, who is permitted the
+    happiness of conversing with you, might not employ. You shall never
+    regret your forbearance. I shall never cease to bless you for it;
+    and whatever decision you arrive at, it shall be respected by me as
+    sacred law. I shall never cease to reverence and bless the hand that
+    spares or--afflicts me. May I be permitted this one melancholy hope,
+    may I be allowed to interpret your omitting to answer this miserable
+    letter as a concession of its prayer? Unless forbidden, I will
+    endeavour to construe your silence as oblivion.
+
+    "I have the honour to remain, dear Miss Arden, with deep compunction
+    and respect, but not altogether without hope in your mercy,
+
+    "Yours the most unhappy and distracted man in England,
+
+    "WALTER LONGCLUSE."
+
+Mr. Longcluse sealed this letter in its envelope, and addressed it. He
+would have liked to send it that moment, by his servant, but an odd
+shyness prevented. He did not wish his servants to conjure and put their
+heads together over it; he could not endure the idea; so with his own
+hand he dropped it in the post. Somewhat in the style of the old novel
+was this composition of Mr. Longcluse's--a little theatrical, and, one
+would have fancied, even affected; yet never was man more desperately
+sincere.
+
+Night came, and brought no reply. Was no news good news, or would the
+morning bring, perhaps from Richard Arden, a withering answer? Morning
+came, and no answer: what was he to conjecture?
+
+That day, in Grosvenor Square, he passed Richard Arden, who looked
+steadily and sternly a little to his right, and _cut_ him.
+
+It was a marked and decided cut. His ears tingled as if he had received
+a slap in the face. So things had assumed a very decided attitude
+indeed! Longcluse felt very oddly enraged, at first; then anxious. It
+was insulting that Richard Arden should have taken the initiative in
+dissolving relations. But had he not been himself studiously impertinent
+to Arden, in that brief colloquy of yesterday? He ought to have been
+prepared for this. Without explanation, and the shaking of hands, it was
+impossible that relations of amity should have been resumed between
+them. But Longcluse had been entirely absorbed by a threatened
+alienation that affected him much more nearly. There was a thesis for
+conjecture in the situation, which made him still more anxious. A very
+little time would probably clear all up.
+
+He was walking homeward, saying to himself as he went, "No, I shall find
+no answer; I should be a fool to fancy anything else;" and yet walking
+all the more quickly, as he approached his house, in the hope of the
+very letter which he affected, to himself, to have quite rejected as an
+impossibility. Some letters had come, but none from Mortlake. His letter
+to Alice was still unanswered. He was now in the agony of suspense and
+distraction.
+
+The same evening Richard Arden was talking about him, as he leaned with
+his elbow on the mantelpiece at Mortlake. He and Alice were alone in the
+drawing-room, awaiting the arrival of the little dinner-party. This, as
+you know, was to include Lord Wynderbroke, before whose advances, in
+Richard Arden's vision, Mr. Longcluse had waned, and even become an
+embarrassment and a nuisance.
+
+"It is easier to cut him than to explain," thought Richard Arden. "It
+bores one so inexpressibly, giving reasons for what one does, and I'm so
+glad he has saved me the trouble by his vulgar impertinence."
+
+They had talked for some time, Alice chiefly a listener. How was she
+affected toward Mr. Longcluse? He was agreeable; he flattered her; he
+was passionately in love with her. All but this latter condition she
+liked very well; but this was embarrassing, and quite impracticable. Who
+knows what that tiny spark we term a fancy, a whim, a _penchant_ might
+have grown to, had it not been blown away by this untimely gust? But,
+for my part, I don't think it ever would have grown to a matter of the
+heart. There was something in the way. A fancy is one thing, and passion
+quite another. Pique is a common state of mind, and comes and goes, and
+comes again, in many a courtship. But a liking that has once entered the
+heart cannot be torn out in a hasty moment, and takes a long time, and
+many a struggle, to kill.
+
+She was a little sorry, just then, to lose him so inevitably. Perhaps
+his letter, to which he had trusted to move her, had rendered the return
+of old relations impossible. In this letter she felt herself the owner
+of a secret--a secret which she could not keep without a sort of
+understanding growing up between them--which therefore she had no idea
+of keeping.
+
+She was resolved to tell it. The letter she had locked, in marked
+isolation, as if no property of hers, but simply a document that was in
+her keeping, in the pretty ormolu casket that stood on the drawing-room
+chimney-piece. She had intended showing it, and telling the story of the
+scene in the garden, to Richard. But he was speaking with a mysterious
+asperity of Mr. Longcluse, which made her hesitate. A very little thing,
+it seemed to her, might suffice to make a very violent quarrel out of a
+coldness. Instinctively, therefore, she refrained, and listened to
+Richard while, with his arm touching the casket on the chimney-piece, he
+descanted on the writer of the unknown letter.
+
+She experienced an odd feeling of insecurity as, in the course of his
+talk, his fingers began to trifle with the pretty fingers that stood out
+in relief upon the casket; for she knew that the ordeal of the pistol,
+discountenanced in England, was still in force on the Continent, and Mr.
+Longcluse's ideas were all Continental; and how near were those fingers
+to the letter which might suffice to explode the dangerous element that
+had already accumulated!
+
+"He has talked of us to his low companions; he chooses to associate with
+usurers and worse people; and he has been speaking of us in the most
+insolent terms."
+
+"Really!" said Alice. Her large eyes looked larger as they fixed on him.
+
+"Yes, and I'll tell you how I heard it. You must know, dear Alice, that
+I happened to want a little money; and when one does, the usual course
+is to borrow it. So I paid a visit to my harpy--and a harpy in need is a
+harpy indeed. Being hard up, he fleeced me; and the gentleman, I
+suppose, thinking he might be familiar, told me he was on confidential
+terms with Mr. Longcluse and wished me a good deal of joy. 'Of what?' I
+ventured to ask, for he had just hit me rather hard. 'Of your chance,'
+or, as he called it _chanshe_, he said, with a delightfully arch leer. I
+thought he meant I had backed the right horse for the Derby, but it
+turned out he meant our chance of inducing Mr. Longcluse to make up his
+mind to marry you. I was very near knocking him down; but a man who has
+one's bill for three hundred pounds must be respected. So I merely
+ventured to ask on whose authority he congratulated me, when it appeared
+it was on Mr. Longcluse's own, who, it seems, had said a great deal
+more, equally intolerable. In plain, coarse terms, he says that, being
+poor, we have conspired with you to secure him, Mr. Longcluse, for your
+husband. As to the fact of his having actually conveyed that, and to
+more people than one, there is and can be no doubt whatever. I can
+imagine, considering all things, nothing more vulgar, audacious, and
+cowardly."
+
+A blush of anger glowed in Alice's face. Richard Arden liked the proud
+fire that gleamed from her dark grey eyes. It satisfied him that his
+words were not lost.
+
+"I lighted on a man who knew more about him than I had learned before,"
+resumed Richard Arden. "He was suspected at Berlin of having been
+engaged in a conspiracy to pigeon Dacre and Wilmot, who were travelling.
+He did not appear, but he is said to have supplied the money, and had a
+lion's share of the spoil. There is no good in repeating these things
+generally, you know, because they are so hard to prove; and a fellow
+like that is dangerous. They say he is very litigious."
+
+"Upon my word, if your information is at all to be relied on, it is
+plain we _have_ made a great mistake. It is a disappointing world, but I
+could not have fancied him doing anything so low; and I must say for him
+that he was gentlemanlike and quiet, and very unlike the person he
+appears to be. I think I never heard of anything so outrageous! Vivian
+Darnley told me that he was a great duellist, and thought to be a very
+quarrelsome, dangerous companion abroad. But he had only heard this, and
+what you tell me is so much worse, so mean, so utterly intolerable!"
+
+"Oh! There's worse than that," said Richard, with a faint sinister
+smile.
+
+"What?" said she, returning it with an almost frightened gaze.
+
+"There was a very beautiful girl at the opera in Vienna; her name was
+Piccardi, a daughter of a good old Roman family. You can't imagine how
+admired she was! And she was thought to be on the point of marrying
+Count Baddenoff; Mr. Longcluse, it seems, chose to be in love with her;
+he was not then anything like so rich as he became afterwards--and this
+poor girl was killed."
+
+"Good heavens! Richard--what can you mean?"
+
+"I mean that she was assassinated, and that from that day Mr. Longcluse
+was never received in society in Vienna, and had to leave it."
+
+"You ought to tell May Penrose," said she, after a silence of dismay.
+
+"Not for the world," said Richard; "she talks enough for six--and
+where's the good? She'll only take up the cudgels for him, and we shall
+be in the centre of a pretty row."
+
+"Well, if you think it best----" she began.
+
+"Certainly," said he. And a silence followed.
+
+"Here is a carriage at the door," said Richard Arden. "Let us dismiss
+Longcluse, and look a little more like ourselves."
+
+That evening there came letters as usual to Mr. Longcluse, and among
+others a note from Lady May Penrose, reminding him of her little
+garden-party at Richmond next day.
+
+"By Jove!" he exclaimed, starting up and reading the cards on his
+chimney, "I thought it was the day after. It was very good-natured, poor
+old thing, her reminding me. I shall see Alice Arden there. Not one line
+does she vouchsafe. But is not she right? I think the more highly of her
+for not writing. I don't think she ought to write. Oh, Heaven grant she
+may meet me as usual? Does she mean it? If she did not, would she not
+have got her brother to write, or have written herself a cold line, to
+end our acquaintance?"
+
+So he tried to comfort himself, and to keep alive his dying hope by
+these artificial stimulants.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXIX.
+
+THE GARDEN PARTY.
+
+
+Next morning Mr. Longcluse rose with a sense of something before him.
+
+"So I shall see her to-day! If she's the girl I've thought her, she will
+meet me as usual. That frantic scene, in which I risked all on the turn
+of a die, will be forgotten. Hasty words, or precipitate letters, are
+passed over every day; the man who commits such follies, under a
+transitory insanity, is allowed the privilege of recalling them. There
+were no witnesses present to make forgiveness difficult. It all lies
+with her own good sense, and a heart proud but gentle. Let but those mad
+words be sponged out, and I am happy. Alice, if you forgive me, I
+forgive your brother, and take his name from where it is, and write it
+in my heart. Oh, beautiful Alice! will you belie your looks? Oh, clear
+bright mind! will you be clouded and perverted? Oh, gentle heart! can
+you be merciless?"
+
+Mr. Longcluse made his simple morning toilet very carefully. A very
+plain man, extremely ugly some pronounce him; yet his figure is good,
+his get-up unexceptionable, and altogether he is a most gentlemanlike
+man to look upon, and in his movements and attitudes, quite unstudied,
+there is an undefinable grace. His accent is a little foreign--the
+slightest thing in the world, and Lady May Penrose declares it is so
+very pretty. Then he is so agreeable, when he pleases; and he is so very
+rich!
+
+Some people wonder why he does not withdraw from all speculations,
+retire upon his enormous wealth, and with his elegant tastes, and the
+art of being magnificent without glare, even gorgeous without
+vulgarity--for has he not shown this refined talent in the service of
+others, who have taken him into council?--he could eclipse all the world
+in splendid elegance, and make his way, _force d'argent_, to the
+pinnacle of half the world's ambition. Were those stories true that
+Richard Arden told his sister on the night before?
+
+I don't think that Richard Arden stuck at trifles, where he had an
+object to gain, and I don't believe a word of his story of Mr.
+Longcluse's insulting talk. It was not his way to boast and vapour; and
+he had a secret contempt for many of the Jewish and other agents whom he
+chose to employ. But undoubtedly Mr. Longcluse had the reputation among
+his discounting admirers of being a dangerous man to quarrel with; and
+also it was true that he had fought three or four savage duels in the
+course of his Continental life. There were other stories,
+unauthenticated, unpleasant. These were whispered with sneers by Mr.
+Longcluse's enemies. But there's a divinity doth hedge a King Croesus,
+and his character bore a charmed life, among the missiles that would
+have laid that of many a punier man in the dust.
+
+With an agitated heart, Mr. Longcluse approached the pretty little place
+known as Raleigh Court, to which he had been invited. Through the
+quaint, old-fashioned gate-way, under the embowering branches of tall
+trees, he drove up a short, broad avenue, clumped at each side with old
+timber, to the open hall-door of the pretty Elizabethan house. Carriages
+of all sorts were discernible under the branches, assembled at the
+further side to the right of the hall-door, over the wide steps of which
+was spread a scarlet cloth. Croquet parties were already visible on the
+shorn grass, under boughs that spread high in the air, and cast a
+pleasant shadow on the sward. Groups were strolling among the
+flower-beds--some walking in, some emerging from the open door--and the
+scene presented the usual variety of dress, and somewhat listless to-ing
+and fro-ing.
+
+Did anyone, of all the guests of Lady May, mask so profound an
+agitation, under the conventional smile, as that which beat at Walter
+Longcluse's heart? Two or three people whom he knew, he met and talked
+to--some for a minute, others for a longer time--as he drew near the
+steps. His eye all the time was busy in the search after one pretty
+figure, the least glimpse of which he would have recognised with the
+thrill of a sure intuition, far or near. He would have liked to ask the
+friends he met whether the Ardens were here. But what would have been
+easy to him a week before, was now an effort for which he could not find
+courage.
+
+He entered the hall, quaint and lofty, rising to the entire height of
+the house, with two galleries, one above the other, surrounding it on
+three sides. Ancestors of the late Mr. Penrose, who had left all this
+and a great deal more to his sorrowing relict, stood on the panelled
+walls at full length--some in ruffs and trunk-hose, others in perukes
+and cut-velvet, one with a baton in his hand, and three with falcon on
+fist--all stately and gentlemanlike, according to their several periods;
+with corresponding ladies, some stiff and pallid, who figured in the
+days of the virgin queen, and others in the graceful _deshabille_ of Sir
+Peter Lely. This quaint oak hall was now resonant with the buzz and
+clack of modern gossip, prose, and flirtation, and a great deal crowded,
+notwithstanding its commodious proportions. Lady May was still receiving
+her company near the doorway of the first drawing-room, and her kindly
+voice was audible from within as the visitor approached. Mr. Longcluse
+was very graciously received.
+
+"I want you so particularly, to introduce you to Lady Hummington. She is
+such a charming person. She is so thoroughly up in German literature.
+She's a great deal too learned for me, but you and she will understand
+one another so perfectly, and you will be quite charmed with her. Mr.
+Addlings, did you happen to see Lady Hummington, or have you any idea
+where she's gone?"
+
+"I shall go and look for her, with pleasure. Is not she the tall lady
+with grey hair? Shall I tell her you want to say a word to her?"
+
+"You're very kind, but I'll not mind, thank you very much. It is so
+provoking, Mr. Longcluse! you would have been perfectly charmed with
+her."
+
+"I shall be more fortunate, by-and-by, perhaps," said Mr. Longcluse.
+"Are any of our friends from Mortlake here?" he added, looking a little
+fixedly in her eyes, for he was thinking whether Alice had betrayed his
+secret, and was trying to read an answer there.
+
+Lady May answered quite promptly--
+
+"Oh, yes, Alice is here, and her brother. He went out that way with some
+friends," she said, indicating with a little nod a door which, from a
+second hall, opened on a terrace. "I asked him to show them the three
+fountains. You must see them also; they are in the Dutch garden; they
+were put up in the reign of George the First.--How d'ye do, Mrs.
+Frumply? How d'ye do, Miss Frumply?"
+
+"What a charming house!" exclaims Mrs. Frumply, "and what a day! We were
+saying, Arabella and I, as we drove out, that you must really have an
+influence with the clerk of the weather, ha, ha, ha! didn't we,
+Arabella? So charming!"
+
+Lady May laughed affably, and said--"Won't you and your daughter go in
+and take some tea? Mr. (she was going to call on Longcluse, but he had
+glided away)--Oh, Mr. Darnley!"
+
+And the introduction was made, and Vivian Darnley, with Mrs. Frumply on
+his arm, attended by her daughter Arabella, did as he was commanded and
+got tea for that simpering lady, and fruit and Naples biscuits, and
+plum-cake, and was rewarded with the original joke about the clerk of
+the weather.
+
+Mr. Longcluse, in the meantime, had passed the door indicated by Lady
+May, and stood upon the short terrace that overlooked the pretty
+flower-garden cut out in grotesque patterns, so that looking down upon
+its masses of crimson, blue, and yellow, as he leaned on the balustrade,
+it showed beneath his eye like a wide deep-piled carpet, on the green
+ground of which were walking groups of people, the brilliant hues of the
+ladies' dresses rivalling the splendour of the verbenas, and making
+altogether a very gay picture.
+
+The usual paucity of male attendance made Mr. Longcluse's task of
+observation easy. He was looking for Richard Arden's well-known figure
+among the groups, thinking that probably Alice was not far off. But he
+was not there, nor was Alice; and Walter Longcluse, gloomy and lonely in
+this gay crowd, descended the steps at the end of this terrace, and
+sauntered round again to the front of the house, now and then passing
+some one he knew, with an exchange of a smile or a bow, and then lost
+again in the Vanity Fair of strange faces and voices.
+
+Now he is at the hall door--he mounts the steps. Suddenly, as he stands
+upon the level platform at top, he finds himself within four feet of
+Richard Arden. He looks on him as he might on the carved pilaster, at
+the side of the hall door; no one could have guessed, by his inflexible
+but unaffected glance, that he and Mr. Arden had ever been acquainted.
+The younger man showed something in his countenance, a sudden hauteur, a
+little elevation of the chin, a certain sternness, more melodramatic,
+though less effective, than the simple blank of Mr. Longcluse's glance.
+
+That gentleman looked about coolly. He was in search of Miss Arden, but
+he did not see her. He entered the hall again, and Richard Arden a
+little awkwardly resumed his conversation, which had suddenly subsided
+into silence on Longcluse's appearance.
+
+By this time Lady May was more at ease, having received all her company
+that were reasonably punctual, and in the hall Longcluse now encountered
+her.
+
+"Have you seen Mr. Arden?" she inquired of him.
+
+"Yes, he's at the door, at the steps."
+
+"Would you mind telling him kindly that I want to say a word to him?"
+
+"Certainly, most happy," said Longcluse, without any distinct plan as to
+how he was to execute her awkward commission.
+
+"Thank you very much. But, oh! dear, here is Lady Hummington, and she
+wishes so much to know you; I'll send some one else. I must introduce
+you, come with me--Lady Hummington, I want to introduce my friend, Mr.
+Longcluse." So Mr. Longcluse was presented to Lady Hummington, who was
+very lean, and a "blue," and most fatiguingly well up in archaeology, and
+all new books on dry and difficult subjects. So that Mr. Longcluse felt
+that he was, in _Joe Willett's_ phrase, "tackled" by a giant, and was
+driven to hideous exertions of attention and memory to hold his own.
+When Lady Hummington, to whom it was plain kind Lady May, with an
+unconscious cruelty, had been describing Mr. Longcluse's accomplishments
+and acquirements, had taken some tea and other refection, and when Mr.
+Longcluse's kindness "had her wants supplied," and she, like Scott's
+"old man" in the "Lay of the Last Minstrel," "was gratified," she
+proposed visiting the music-room, where she had heard a clever organist
+play, on a harmonium, three distinct tunes at the same time, which being
+composed on certain principles, that she explained with much animation
+and precision, harmonised very prettily.
+
+So this clever woman directed, and Mr. Longcluse led, the way to the
+music-room.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXX.
+
+HE SEES HER.
+
+
+Mr. Longcluse's attention was beginning to wander a little, and his eyes
+were now busy in search of some one whom he had not found; and knowing
+that the duration of people's stay at a garden-party is always
+uncertain, and that some of those gaily-plumed birds who make the
+flutter, and chirping, and brilliancy of the scene, hardly alight before
+they take wing again, he began to fear that Alice Arden had gone.
+
+"Just like my luck!" he thought bitterly; "and if she is gone, when
+shall I have an opportunity of seeing her again?"
+
+Lady Hummington's well-informed conversation had been, unheeded,
+accompanying the ruminations and distractions of this "passionate
+pilgrim;" and as they approached the door of the music-room, the little
+crush there brought the learned lady's lips so near to his ear, that
+with a little start he heard the words--"All strictly arithmetical, you
+know, and adjusted by the relative frequency of vibrations. That theory,
+I am sure, you approve, Mr. Longcluse."
+
+To which the distracted lover made answer, "I quite agree with you, Lady
+Hummington."
+
+The music-room at Raleigh Court is an apartment of no great size, and
+therefore when, with Lady Hummington on his arm, he entered, it was at
+no great distance that he saw Miss Arden standing near the window, and
+talking with an elderly gentleman, whose appearance he did not know, but
+who seemed to be extremely interested in her conversation. She saw him,
+he had not a doubt, for she turned a little quickly, and looked ever so
+little more directly out at the window, and a very slight tinge flushed
+her cheek. It was quite plain, he thought, and a dreadful pang stole
+through his breast, that she did not choose to see him--quite plain that
+she did see him--and he thought, from a subtle scrutiny of her beautiful
+features, quite plain also that it gave her pain to meet without
+acknowledging him.
+
+Lady Hummington was conversing with volubility; but the air felt icy,
+and there was a strange trembling at his heart, and this, in many
+respects, hard man of the world, felt that the tears were on the point
+of welling from his eyes. The struggle was but for a few moments, and he
+seemed quite himself again. Lady Hummington wished to go to the end of
+the room where the piano was, and the harmonium on which the organist
+had performed his feat of the three tunes. That artist was taking his
+departure, having a musical assignation of some kind to keep. But to
+oblige Lady Hummington, who had heard of Thalberg's doing something of
+the kind, he sat down and played an elaborate piece of music on the
+piano with his thumbs only. This charming effort over, and applauded,
+the performer took his departure. And Lady Hummington said--
+
+"I am told, Mr. Longcluse, that you are a very good musician."
+
+"A very indifferent performer, Lady Hummington."
+
+"Lady May Penrose tells a very different tale."
+
+"Lady May Penrose is too kind to be critical," said Longcluse; and as he
+maintained this dialogue, his eye was observing every movement of Alice
+Arden. She seemed, however, to have quite made up her mind to stand her
+ground. There was a strange interest, to him, even in being in the same
+room with her. Perhaps Miss Arden saw that Mr. Longcluse's movements
+were dependent upon those of the lady whom he accompanied, and might
+have thought that, the musician having departed, their stay in that room
+would not be very long.
+
+"I should be so glad to hear you sing, Mr. Longcluse," pursued Lady
+Hummington. "You have been in the East, I think; have you any of the
+Hindostanee songs? There are some, I have read, that embody the theories
+of the Brahmin philosophy."
+
+"Long-winded songs, I fancy," said Mr. Longcluse, laughing; "it is a
+very voluminous philosophy, but the truth is, I've got a little cold,
+and I should not like to make a bad impression so early."
+
+"But surely there are some simple little things, without very much
+compass, that would not distress you. How pretty those old English songs
+are that they are collecting and publishing now! I mean songs of
+Shakespeare's time--Ben Jonson's, Beaumont and Fletcher's, and
+Massinger's, you know. Some of them are so extremely pretty!"
+
+"Oh! yes, I'll sing you one of those with pleasure," said he with a
+strange alacrity, quite forgetting his cold, sitting down at the
+instrument, and striking two or three fierce chords.
+
+I am sure that most of my readers are acquainted with that pretty old
+English song, of the time of James the First, entitled, "Once I Loved a
+Maiden Fair." That was the song he chose.
+
+Never, perhaps, did he sing so well before, with a fluctuation of pathos
+and scorn, tenderness and hatred, expressed with real dramatic fire, and
+with more power of voice than at moments of less excitement he
+possessed. He sang it with real passion, and produced, exactly where he
+wished, a strange but unavowed sensation. He omitted one verse, and the
+song as he delivered it was thus:--
+
+    "Once I loved a maiden fair,
+       But she did deceive me:
+     She with Venus could compare,
+       In my mind, believe me.
+     She was young, and among
+       All our maids the sweetest:
+     Now I say, Ah, well-a-day!
+       Brightest hopes are fleetest.
+
+     Maidens wavering and untrue
+       Many a heart have broken;
+     Sweetest lips the world e'er knew
+       Falsest words have spoken.
+     Fare thee well, faithless girl,
+       I'll not sorrow for thee:
+     Once I held thee dear as pearl,
+       Now I do abhor thee."
+
+When he had finished the song, he said coldly, but very distinctly, as
+he rose--
+
+"I like that song, there is a melancholy psychology in it. It is a song
+worthy of Shakespeare himself."
+
+Lady Hummington urged him with an encore, but he was proof against her
+entreaties. And so, after a little, she took Mr. Longcluse's arm; and
+Alice felt relieved when the room was rid of them.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXXI.
+
+ABOUT THE GROUNDS.
+
+
+Lady Hummington, well pleased at having found in Mr. Longcluse what she
+termed a kindred mind, was warned by the hour that she must depart. She
+took her leave of Mr. Longcluse with regret, and made him promise to
+come to luncheon with her on the Thursday following. Mr. Longcluse
+called her carriage for her, and put in, besides herself, her maiden
+sister and two daughters, who all exhibited the family leanness, with
+noses more or less red and aquiline, and small black eyes, set rather
+close together.
+
+As he ascended the steps he was accosted by a damsel in distress.
+
+"Mr. Longcluse, I'm so glad to see you! You must do a very good-natured
+thing," said handsome Miss Maubray, smiling on him. "I came here with
+old Sir Arthur and Lady Tramway, and I've lost them; and I've been bored
+to death by a Mr. Bagshot, and I've sent him to look for my
+pocket-handkerchief in the tea-room; and I want you, as you hope for
+mercy, to show it now, and rescue me from my troubles."
+
+"I'm too much honoured. I'm only too happy, Miss Maubray. I shall put
+Mr. Bagshot to death, if you wish it, and Sir Arthur and Lady Tramway
+shall appear the moment you command."
+
+Mr. Longcluse was talking his nonsense with the high spirits which
+sometimes attend a painful excitement.
+
+"I told them I should get to that tree if I were lost in the crowd, and
+that they would be sure to find me under it after six o'clock. Do take
+me there; I am so afraid of Mr. Bagshot's returning!"
+
+So over the short grass that handsome girl walked, with Mr. Longcluse at
+her side.
+
+"I'll sit at this side, thank you; I don't want to be seen by Mr.
+Bagshot."
+
+So she sat down, placing herself at the further side of the great trunk
+of the old chestnut-tree. Mr. Longcluse stood nearly opposite, but so
+placed as to command a view of the hall-door steps. He was still
+watching the groups that emerged, with as much interest as if his life
+depended on the order of their to-ing and fro-ing. But, in spite of
+this, very soon Miss Maubray's talk began to interest him.
+
+"Whom did Alice Arden come with?" asked Miss Maubray. "I should like to
+know; because, if I should lose my people, I must find some one to take
+me home."
+
+"With her brother, I fancy."
+
+"Oh! yes, to be sure--I saw him here. I forgot. But Alice is very
+independent, just now, of his protection," and she laughed.
+
+"How do you mean?"
+
+"Oh! Lord Wynderbroke, of course, takes care of her while she's here. I
+saw them walking about together, so happy! I suppose it is all settled."
+
+"About Lord Wynderbroke?" suggested Longcluse, with a gentle
+carelessness, as if he did not care a farthing--as if a dreadful pain
+had not at that moment pierced his heart.
+
+"Yes, Lord Wynderbroke. Why, haven't you heard of that?"
+
+"Yes, I believe--I think so. I am sure I have heard something of it; but
+one hears so many things, one forgets, and I don't know him. What kind
+of man is he?"
+
+"He's hard to describe; he's not disagreeable, and he's not dull; he has
+a great deal to say for himself about pictures, and the East, and the
+Crimea, and the opera, and all the people at all the courts in Europe,
+and he ought to be amusing; but I think he is the driest person I ever
+talked to. And he is really good-natured; but I think him much more
+teasing than the most ill-natured man alive, he's so insufferably
+punctual and precise."
+
+"You know him very well, then?" said Longcluse, with an effort to
+contribute his share to the talk.
+
+"Pretty well," said the young lady, with just a slight tinge flushing
+her haughty cheek. "But no one, who has been a week in the same house
+with him, could fail to see all that."
+
+Miss Maubray herself, I am told, had hopes of Lord Wynderbroke about a
+year before, and was not amiably disposed towards him now, and looked on
+the triumph of Alice a little sourly; although something like the
+beginning of a real love had since stolen into her heart--not, perhaps,
+destined to be much more happy.
+
+"Lord Wynderbroke--I don't know him. Is that gentleman he whom I saw
+talking to Miss Arden in the music-room, I wonder? He's not actually
+thin, and he is not at all stout; he's a little above the middle height,
+and he stoops just a little. He appears past fifty, and his hair looks
+like an old-fashioned brown wig, brushed up into a sort of cone over his
+forehead. He seems a little formal, and very polite and smiling, with a
+flower in his button-hole; a blue coat; and he has a pair of those
+little gold Paris glasses, and was looking out through the window with
+them."
+
+"Had he a high nose?"
+
+"Yes, rather a thin, high nose, and his face is very brown."
+
+"Well, if he was all that, and had a brown face and a high nose, and was
+pretty near fifty-three, and very near Alice Arden, he was positively
+Lord Wynderbroke."
+
+"And has this been going on for some time, or is it a sudden thing?"
+
+"Both, I believe. It has been going on a long time, I believe, in old
+Sir Reginald's head; but it has come about, after all, rather suddenly;
+and my guardian says--Mr. David Arden, you know--that he has written a
+proposal in a letter to Sir Reginald, and you see how happy the young
+lady looks. So I think we may assume that the course of true love, for
+once, runs smooth--don't you?"
+
+"And I suppose there is no objection anywhere?" said Longcluse, smiling.
+"It is a pity he is not a little younger, perhaps."
+
+"I don't hear any complaints; let us rather rejoice he is not ten or
+twenty years older. I am sure it would not prevent his happiness, but it
+would heighten the ridicule. Are you one of Lady May Penrose's party to
+the Derby to-morrow?" inquired the young lady.
+
+"No; I haven't been asked."
+
+"Lord Wynderbroke is going."
+
+"Oh! of course he is."
+
+"I don't think Mr. David Arden likes it; but, of course, it is no
+business of his if other people are pleased. I wonder you did not hear
+all this from Richard Arden, you and he are so intimate."
+
+So said the young lady, looking very innocent. But I think she suspected
+more than she said.
+
+"No, I did not hear it," he said carelessly; "or, if I did, I forgot it.
+But do you blame the young lady?"
+
+"Blame her! not at all. Besides, I am not so sure that she knows."
+
+"How can you think so?"
+
+"Because I think she likes quite another person."
+
+"Really! And who is he?"
+
+"Can't you guess?"
+
+"Upon my honour, I can't."
+
+There was something so earnest, and even vehement, in this sudden
+asseveration, that Miss Maubray looked for a moment in his face; and
+seeing her curious expression, he said more quietly, "I assure you I
+don't think I ever heard; I'm rather curious to know."
+
+"I mean Mr. Vivian Darnley."
+
+"Oh! Well, I've suspected that a long time. I told Richard Arden, one
+day--I forget how it came about--but he said no."
+
+"Well, I say yes," laughed the young lady, "and we shall see who's
+right."
+
+"Oh! Recollect I'm only giving you his opinion. I rather lean to yours,
+but he said there was positively nothing in it, and that Mr. Darnley is
+too poor to marry."
+
+"If Alice Arden resembles me," said the young lady, "she thinks there
+are just two things to marry for--either love or ambition."
+
+"You place love first, I'm glad to hear," said Mr. Longcluse, with a
+smile.
+
+"So I do, because it is most likely to prevail with a pig-headed girl;
+but what I mean is this: that social pre-eminence--I mean rank, and not
+trumpery rank; but such as, being accompanied with wealth and
+precedence, is also attended with power--is worth an immense sacrifice
+of all other objects; my reason tells me, worth the sacrifice of love.
+But that is a sacrifice which impatient, impetuous people can't always
+so easily make--which I daresay I could not make if I were tried; but I
+don't think I shall ever be fool enough to become so insane, for the
+state of a person in love is a state of simple idiotism. It is pitiable,
+I allow, but also contemptible; but, judging by what I see, it appears
+to me a more irresistible delusion than ambition. But I don't understand
+Alice well. I think, if I knew a little more of her brother--certain
+qualities so run in families--I should be able to make a better guess.
+What do you think of him?"
+
+"He's very agreeable, isn't he? and, for the rest, really, until men are
+tried as events only can try them, it is neither wise nor safe to
+pronounce."
+
+"Is he affectionate?"
+
+"His sister seems to worship him," he answered; "but young ladies are so
+angelic, that where they like they resent nothing, and respect
+selfishness itself as a manly virtue."
+
+"But you know him intimately; surely you must know something of him."
+
+Under different circumstances, this audacious young lady's
+cross-examination would have amused Mr. Longcluse; but in his present
+relations, and spirits, it was otherwise.
+
+"I should but mislead you if I were to answer more distinctly. I answer
+for no man, hardly for myself. Besides, I question your theory. I don't
+think, except by accident, that a brother's character throws any light
+upon a sister's; and I hope--I think, I mean--that Miss Arden has
+qualities illimitably superior to those of her brother. Are these your
+friends, Miss Maubray?" he continued.
+
+"So they are," she answered. "I'm so much obliged to you, Mr. Longcluse!
+I think they are leaving."
+
+Mr. Longcluse, having delivered her into the hands of her chaperon, took
+his leave, and walked into the broad alleys among the trees, and in
+solitude under their shade, sat himself down by a pond, on which two
+swans were sailing majestically. Looking down upon the water with a
+pallid frown, he struck the bank beneath him viciously with his heel,
+peeling off little bits of the sward, which dropped into the water.
+
+"It is all plain enough now. Richard Arden has been playing me false. It
+ought not to surprise me, perhaps. The girl, I still believe, has
+neither act nor part in the conspiracy. She has been duped by her
+brother. I have thrown myself upon her mercy; I will now appeal to her
+_justice_. As for him--what vermin mankind are! He must return to his
+allegiance; he will. After all, he may not like to lose me. He will act
+in the way that most interests his selfishness. Come, come! it is no
+impracticable problem. I'm not cruel? Not I! No, I'm not cruel; but I am
+utterly just. I would not hang a mouse up by the tail to die, as they do
+in France, head downwards, of hunger, for eating my cheese; but should
+the vermin nibble at my heart, in that case, what says justice? Alice,
+beautiful Alice, you shall have every chance before I tear you from my
+heart--oh, for ever! Ambition! That coarse girl, Miss Maubray, can't
+understand you. Ambition, in her sense, you have none; there is nothing
+venal in your nature. Vivian Darnley, is there anything in that either?
+I think nothing. I observed them closely, that night, at Mortlake. No,
+there was nothing. My conversation and music interested her, and when I
+was by, he was nothing.
+
+"They are going to the Derby to-morrow. I think Lady May has treated me
+rather oddly, considering that she had all but borrowed my drag. She
+might have put me off civilly; but I don't blame her. She is
+good-natured, and if she has any idea that I and the Ardens are not
+quite on pleasant terms, it quite excuses it. Her asking me here, and
+her little note to remind, were meant to show that she did not take up
+the quarrel against me. Never mind; I shall know all about it, time
+enough. They are going to the Derby to-morrow. Very well, I shall go
+also. It will all be right yet. When did I fail? When did I renounce an
+object? By Heaven, one way or other, I'll accomplish this!"
+
+Tall Mr. Longcluse rose, and looked round him, and in deep thought,
+marched with a resolute step towards the house.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXXII.
+
+UNDER THE LIME-TREES.
+
+
+At this garden-party, marvellous as it may appear, Lord Wynderbroke has
+an aunt. How old she is I know not, nor yet with what conscience her
+respectable relations can permit her to haunt such places, and run a
+risk of being suffocated in doorways, or knocked down the steps by an
+enamoured couple hurrying off to more romantic quarters, or of having
+her maundering old head knocked with a croquet mallet, as she totters
+drearily among the hoops.
+
+This old lady is worth conciliating, for she has plate and jewels, and
+three thousand a-year to leave; and Lord Wynderbroke is a prudent man.
+He can bear a great deal of money, and has no objection to jewels, and
+thinks that the plate of his bachelor and old-maid kindred should
+gravitate to the centre and head of the house. Lord Wynderbroke was
+indulgent, and did not object to her living a little longer, for this
+aunt conduced to his air of juvenility more than the flower in his
+button-hole. However, she was occasionally troublesome, and on this
+occasion made an unwise mixture of fruit and other things; and a servant
+glided into the music-room, and with a proper inclination of his person,
+in a very soft tone said,--
+
+"My lord, Lady Witherspoons is in her carriage at the door, my lord, and
+says her ladyship is indisposed, and begs, my lord, that your lordship
+will be so good as to hacompany her 'ome in her carriage, my lord."
+
+"Oh! tell her ladyship I am so _very_ sorry, and will be with her in a
+moment." And he turned with a very serious countenance to Alice. "How
+extremely unfortunate! When I saw those miserable cherries, I knew how
+it would be; and now I am torn away from this charming place; and I'm
+sure I hope she may be better soon, it _is_ so (disgusting, he thought,
+but he said) melancholy! With whom shall I leave you, Miss Arden?"
+
+"Thanks, I came with my brother, and here is my cousin, Mr. Darnley, who
+can tell me where he is."
+
+"With a croquet party, near the little bridge. I'll be your guide, if
+you'll allow me," said Vivian Darnley eagerly.
+
+"Pray, Lord Wynderbroke, don't let me delay you longer. I shall find my
+brother quite easily now. I so hope Lady Witherspoons may soon be
+better!"
+
+"Oh, yes, she always _is_ better soon; but in the meantime one is
+carried away, you see, and everything upset; and all because, poor
+woman, she won't exercise the smallest restraint. And she has, of
+course, a right to command me, being my aunt, you know, and--and--the
+whole thing is ineffably provoking."
+
+And thus he took his reluctant departure, not without a brief but grave
+scrutiny of Mr. Vivian Darnley. When he was gone, Vivian Darnley
+proffered his arm, and that little hand was placed on it, the touch of
+which made his heart beat faster. Though people were beginning to go,
+there was still a crush about the steps. This little resistance and
+mimic difficulty were pleasant to him for her sake. Down the steps they
+went together, and now he had her all to himself; and silently for a
+while he led her over the closely-shorn grass, and into the green walk
+between the lime-trees, that leads down to the little bridge.
+
+"Alice," at last he said--"Miss Arden, what have I done that you are so
+changed?"
+
+"Changed! I don't think I am changed. What is there to change me?" she
+said carelessly, but in a low tone, as she looked along towards the
+flowers.
+
+"It won't do, Alice, repeating my question, for that is all you have
+done. I like you too well to be put off with mere words. You are
+changed, and without a cause--no, I could not say that--not without a
+cause. Circumstances are altered; you are in the great world now, and
+admired; you have wealth and titles at your feet--Mr. Longcluse with his
+millions, Lord Wynderbroke with his coronet."
+
+"And who told you that these gentlemen were at my feet?" she exclaimed,
+with a flash from her fine eyes, that reminded him of moments of pretty
+childish anger, long ago. "If I am changed--and perhaps I am--such
+speeches as that would quite account for it. You accuse me of
+caprice--has any one ever accused you of impertinence?"
+
+"It is quite true, I deserve your rebuke. I have been speaking as freely
+as if we were back again at Arden Court, or Ryndelmere, and ten years of
+our lives were as a mist that rolls away."
+
+"That's a quotation from a song of Tennyson's."
+
+"I don't know what it is from. Being melancholy myself, I say the words
+because they are melancholy."
+
+"Surely you can find some friend to console you in your affliction."
+
+"It is not easy to find a friend at any time, much less when things go
+wrong with us."
+
+"It is very hard if there is really no one to comfort you. Certainly _I_
+sha'n't try anything so hopeless as comforting a person who is resolved
+to be miserable. 'There's such a charm in melancholy, I would not if I
+could, be gay.' There's a quotation for you, as you like
+verses--particularly what I call moping verses."
+
+"Come, Alice! this is not like you; you are not so unkind as your words
+would seem; you are not cruel, Alice--you are cruel to no one else, only
+to me, your old friend."
+
+"I have said nothing cruel," said Miss Alice, looking on the grass
+before her; "cruelty is too sublime a phrase. I don't think I have ever
+experienced cruelty in my life; and I don't think it likely that you
+have; I certainly have never been cruel to any one. I'm a very
+good-natured person, as my birds and squirrel would testify if they
+could."
+
+She laughed.
+
+"I suppose people call that cruel which makes them suffer very much; it
+may be but a light look, or a cold word, but still it may be more than
+years of suffering to another. But I don't think, Alice, you ought to be
+so with me. I think you might remember old times a little more kindly."
+
+"I remember them very kindly--as kindly as you do. We were always very
+good friends, and always, I daresay, shall be. _I_ sha'n't quarrel. But
+I don't like heroics, I think they are so unmeaning. There may be people
+who like them very well and---- There is Richard, I think, and he has
+thrown away his mallet. If his game is over, he will come now, and Lady
+May doesn't want the people to stay late; she is going into town, and I
+stay with her to-night. We are going to the Derby to-morrow."
+
+"I am going also--it was so kind of her!--she asked me to be of her
+party," said Vivian Darnley.
+
+"Richard is coming also; I have never been to the Derby, and I daresay
+we shall be a very pleasant party; I know I like it of all things. Here
+comes Richard--he sees me. Was my uncle David here?"
+
+"No."
+
+"I hardly thought he was, but I saw Grace Maubray, and I fancied he
+might have come with her," she said carelessly.
+
+"Yes, she was here; she came with Lady Tramway. They went away about
+half-an-hour ago."
+
+So Richard joined her, and they walked to the house together, Vivian
+Darnley accompanying them.
+
+"I think I saw you a little spooney to-day, Vivian, didn't I?" said
+Richard Arden, laughing. He remembered what Longcluse once said to him,
+about Vivian's _tendre_ for his sister, and did not choose that Alice
+should suspect it. "Grace Maubray is a very pretty girl."
+
+"She may be that, though it doesn't strike me," began Darnley.
+
+"Oh! come, I'm too old for that sort of disclaimer; and I don't see why
+you should be so modest about it. She is clever and pretty."
+
+"Yes, she is very pretty," said Alice.
+
+"I suppose she is, but you're quite mistaken if you really fancy I
+admire Miss Maubray. I _don't_, I give you my _honour_, I don't," said
+Vivian vehemently.
+
+Richard Arden laughed again, but prudently urged the point no more,
+intending to tell the story that evening as he and Alice drove together
+into town, in the way that best answered his purpose.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXXIII.
+
+THE DERBY.
+
+
+The morning of the Derby day dawned auspiciously. The weather-cocks, the
+sky, and every other prognostic portended a fine cloudless day, and many
+an eye peeped early from bed-room window to read these signs, rejoicing.
+
+"Ascot would have been more in _our_ way," said Lady May, glancing at
+Alice, when the time arrived for taking their places in the carriage.
+"But the time answered, and we shall see a great many people we know
+there. So you must not think I have led you into a very fast
+expedition."
+
+Richard Arden took the reins. The footmen were behind, in charge of
+hampers from Fortnum and Mason's, and inside, opposite to Alice, sat
+Lord Wynderbroke; and Lady May's _vis-a-vis_ was Vivian Darnley. Soon
+they had got into the double stream of carriages of all sorts. There are
+closed carriages with pairs or fours, gigs, hansom cabs fitted with
+gauze curtains, dog-carts, open carriages with hampers lashed to the
+foot-boards, dandy drags, bright and polished, with crests; vans, cabs,
+and indescribable contrivances. There are horses worth a hundred and
+fifty guineas a-piece, and there are others that look as if the knacker
+should have them. There are all sorts of raws, and sand-cracks, and
+broken knees. There are kickers and roarers, and bolters and jibbers,
+such a crush and medley in that densely packed double line, that jogs
+and crushes along you can hardly tell how.
+
+Sometimes one line passes the other, and then sustains a momentary
+check, while the other darts forward; and now and then a panel is
+smashed, with the usual altercation, and dust unspeakable eddying and
+floating everywhere in the sun; all sorts of chaff exchanged, mail-coach
+horns blowing, and general impudence and hilarity; gentlemen with veils
+on, and ladies with light hoods over their bonnets, and all sorts of
+gauzy defences against the dust. The utter novelty of all these sights
+and sounds highly amuses Alice, to whom they are absolutely strange.
+
+"I am so amused," she said, "at the gravity you all seem to take these
+wonderful doings with. I could not have fancied anything like it. Isn't
+that Borrowdale?"
+
+"So it is," said Lady May. "I thought he was in France. He doesn't see
+us, I think."
+
+He did see them, but it was just as he was cracking a personal joke with
+a busman, in which the latter had decidedly the best of it, and he did
+not care to recognise his lady acquaintances at disadvantage.
+
+"What a fright that man is!" said Lord Wynderbroke.
+
+"But his team is the prettiest in England, except Longcluse's," said
+Darnley; "and, by Jove, there's Longcluse's drag!"
+
+"Those are very nice horses," said Lord Wynderbroke looking at
+Longcluse's team, as if he had not heard Darnley's observation. "They
+are worth looking at, Miss Arden."
+
+Longcluse was seated on the box, with a veil on, through which his white
+smile was indistinctly visible.
+
+"And what a fright _he_ is, also! He looks like a picture of Death I
+once saw, with a cloth half over his face; or the Veiled Prophet. By
+Jove, a curious thing that the two most hideous men in England should
+have between them the two prettiest teams on earth!"
+
+Lord Wynderbroke looks at Darnley with raised brows, vaguely. He has
+been talking more than his lordship perhaps thinks he has any business
+to talk, especially to Alice.
+
+"You will be more diverted still when we have got upon the course,"
+interposes Lord Wynderbroke. "The variety of strange people
+there--gipsies, you know, and all that--mountebanks, and
+thimble-riggers, and beggars, and musicians--you'll wonder how such
+hordes could be collected in all England, or where they come from."
+
+"And although they make something of a day like this, how on earth they
+contrive to exist all the other days of the year, when people are sober,
+and minding their own business," added Darnley.
+
+"To me the pleasantest thing about the drive is our finding ourselves in
+the open country. Look out of the window there--trees and
+farm-steads--it is so rural, and such an odd change!" said Lady May.
+
+"And the young corn, I'm glad to see, is looking very well," said Lord
+Wynderbroke, who claimed to be something of an agriculturist.
+
+"And the oddest thing about it is our being surrounded, in the midst of
+all this rural simplicity, with the population of London," threw in
+Vivian Darnley.
+
+"Remember, Miss Arden, our wager," said Lord Wynderbroke; "you have
+backed May Queen."
+
+"May! she should be a cousin of mine," said good Lady May, firing off
+her little pun, which was received very kindly by her audience.
+
+"Ha, ha! I did not think of that; she should certainly be the most
+popular name on the card," said Lord Wynderbroke. "I hope I have not
+made a great mistake, Miss Arden, in betting against so--so auspicious a
+name."
+
+"I sha'n't let you off, though. I'm told I'm very likely to win--isn't
+it so?" she asked Vivian.
+
+"Yes, the odds are in favour of May Queen now; you might make a capital
+hedge."
+
+"You don't know what a hedge is, I daresay, Miss Arden; ladies don't
+always quite understand our turf language," said Lord Wynderbroke, with
+a consideration which he hoped that very forward young man, on whom he
+fancied Miss Arden looked good-naturedly, felt as he ought. "It is
+called a hedge, by betting men, when----" and he expounded the meaning
+of the term.
+
+The road had now become more free, as they approached the course, and
+Dick Arden took advantage of the circumstance to pass the omnibuses, and
+other lumbering vehicles, which he soon left far behind. The grand stand
+now rose in view--and now they were on the course. The first race had
+not yet come off, and young Arden found a good place among the triple
+line of carriages. Off go the horses! Miss Arden is assisted to a
+cushion on the roof; Lord Wynderbroke and Vivian take places beside her.
+The sun is growing rather hot, and the parasol is up. Good-natured Lady
+May is a little too stout for climbing, but won't hear of anyone's
+staying to keep her company. Perhaps when Richard Arden, who is taking a
+walk by the ropes, and wants to see the horses which are showing,
+returns, she may have a little talk with him at the window. In the
+meantime, all the curious groups of figures, and a hundred more, which
+Lord Wynderbroke promised--the monotonous challenges of the fellows with
+games of all sorts, the whine of the beggar for a little penny, the
+guitarring, singing, barrel-organing, and the gipsy inviting Miss Arden
+to try her lucky sixpence--all make a curious and merry Babel about her.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXXIV.
+
+A SHARP COLLOQUY.
+
+
+On foot, near the weighing stand, is a tall, powerful, and clumsy
+fellow, got up gaudily--a fellow with a lowering red face, in loud
+good-humour, very ill-looking. He is now grinning and chuckling with his
+hands in his pockets, and talking with a little Hebrew, young,
+sable-haired, with the sallow tint, great black eyes, and fleshy nose
+that characterise his race. A singularly sullen mouth aids the effect of
+his vivid eyes, in making this young Jew's face ominous.
+
+"Young Dick Harden's 'ere," said Mr. Levi.
+
+"Eh? is he?" said the big man with the red face and pimples, the green
+cut-away coat, gilt buttons, purple neck-tie, yellow waistcoat, white
+cord tights, and top boots.
+
+"Walking down there," said Levi, pointing with his thumb over his
+shoulder. "I shaw him shpeak to a fellow in chocolate and gold livery."
+
+"And an eagle on the button, I know. That's Lady May Penrose's livery,"
+said his companion. "He came down with her, I lay you fifty. And he has
+a nice sister as ever you set eyes on--pretty gal, Mr. Levi--a reg'lar
+little angel," and he giggled after his wont. "If there's a dragful of
+hangels anyvere, she's one of them. I saw her yesterday in one of Lady
+May Penrose's carriages in St. James' Street. Mr. Longcluse is engaged
+to get married to her; you may see them linked arm-in-arm, any day you
+please, walkin' hup and down Hoxford Street. And her brother, Richard
+Harden, is to marry Lady May Penrose. That will be a warm family yet,
+them Hardens, arter all."
+
+"A family with a title, Mr. Ballard, be it never so humble, Sir, like
+'ome shweet 'ome, hash nine livesh in it; they'll be down to the last
+pig, and not the thickness of an old tizzy between them and the
+glue-pot; and while you'd write your name across the back of a cheque,
+all's right again. The title doesh it. You never shaw a title in the
+workus yet, Mr. Ballard, and you'll wait awhile before you 'av a
+hoppertunity of shayin', 'My lord Dooke, I hope your grashe's
+water-gruel is salted to your noble tasht thish morning,' or, 'My noble
+marquishe, I humbly hope you are pleashed with the fit of them
+pepper-and-salts;' and, 'My lord earl, I'm glad to see by the register
+you took a right honourable twisht at the crank thish morning.' No,
+Mishter Ballard, you nor me won't shee that, Shir."
+
+While these gentlemen enjoyed their agreeable banter, and settled the
+fortunes of Richard Arden and Mr. Longcluse, the latter person was
+walking down the course in the direction in which Mr. Levi had seen
+Arden go, in the hope of discovering Lady May's carriage. Longcluse was
+in an odd state of excitement. He had entered into the spirit of the
+carnival. Voices all around were shouting, "Twenty to five on
+Dotheboys;" or, "A hundred to five against Parachute."
+
+"In what?" called Mr. Longcluse to the latter challenge.
+
+"In assassins!" cried a voice from the crowd.
+
+Mr. Longcluse hustled his way into the thick of it.
+
+"Who said that?" he thundered.
+
+No one could say. No one else had heard it. Who cared? He recovered his
+coolness quickly, and made no further fuss about it. People were too
+busy with other things to bother themselves about his questions, or his
+temper. He hurried forward after young Arden, whom he saw at the turn of
+the course a little way on.
+
+"The first race no one cares much about; compared with the great event
+of the day, it is as the farce before the pantomime, or the oyster
+before the feast."
+
+The bells had not yet rung out their warning, and Alice said to
+Vivian,--
+
+"How beautifully that girl with the tambourine danced and sang! I do so
+hope she'll come again; and she is, I think, so perfectly lovely. She is
+so like the picture of La Esmeralda; didn't you think so?"
+
+"Do you really wish to see her again?" said Vivian. "Then if she's to be
+found on earth you shall see her."
+
+He was smiling, but he spoke in the low tone that love is said to employ
+and understand, and his eyes looked softly on her. He was pleased that
+she enjoyed everything so. In a moment he had jumped to the ground, and
+with one smile back at the eager girl he disappeared.
+
+And now the bells were ringing, and the police clearing the course. And
+now the cry, "They're off, they're off!" came rolling down the crowd
+like a hedge-fire. Lord Wynderbroke offered Alice his race-glass, but
+ladies are not good at optical aids, and she prefers her eyes; and the
+Earl constitutes himself her sentinel, and will report all he sees, and
+stands on the roof beside her place, with the glasses to his eyes. And
+now the excitement grows. Beggar-boys, butcher-boys, stable-helps, jump
+up on carriage-wheels unnoticed, and cling to the roof with filthy
+fingers. And now they are in sight, and a wild clamour arises. "Red's
+first!" "No, Blue!" "White leads!" "Pink's first!"
+
+And here they are! White, crimson, pink, black, yellow--the silk jackets
+quivering like pennons in a storm--the jockeys tossing their arms madly
+about, the horses seeming actually to fly; swaying, reeling, whirring,
+the whole thing passes in a beautiful drift of a moment, and is gone!
+
+Lord Wynderbroke is standing on tip-toe, trying to catch a glimpse of
+the caps as they show at the opening nearer the winning-post. Vivian
+Darnley is away in search of La Esmeralda. Miss Arden has seen the first
+race of the day, the first she has ever seen, and is amazed and
+delighted. The intruders who had been clinging to the carriage now jump
+down, and join the crowd that crush on towards the winning-post, or
+break in on the course. But there rises at the point next her a figure
+she little expected to see so near that day. Mr. Longcluse has swung
+himself up, and stands upon the wheel. He is bare-headed, his hat is in
+the hand he clings by. In the other hand he holds up a small glove--a
+lady's glove. His face is very pale. He is not smiling; he looks with an
+expression of pain, on the contrary, and very great respect.
+
+"Miss Arden, will you forgive my venturing to restore this glove, which
+I happened to see you drop as the horses passed?"
+
+She looked at him with something of surprise and fear, and drew back a
+little instead of taking the proffered glove.
+
+"I find I have been too presumptuous," he said gently. "I place it
+there. I see, Miss Arden, I have been maligned. Some one has wronged me
+cruelly. I plead only for a fair chance--for God's sake, give me a
+chance. I don't say hear me now, only say you won't condemn me utterly
+unheard."
+
+He spoke vehemently, but so low that, amid the hubbub of other voices,
+no one but Miss Arden, on whom his eyes were fixed, could hear him.
+
+"I take my leave, Miss Arden, and may God bless you. But I rest in the
+hope that your noble nature will refuse to treat any creature as my
+enemies would have you treat me."
+
+His looks were so sad and even reverential, and his voice, though low,
+so full of agony, that no one could suppose the speaker had the least
+idea of forcing his presence upon the lady a moment longer than sufficed
+to ascertain that it was not welcome. He was about to step to the
+ground, when he saw Richard Arden striding rapidly up with a very angry
+countenance. Then and there seemed likely to occur what the newspapers
+term an ungentlemanlike fracas. Richard Arden caught him, and pulled him
+roughly to the ground. Mr. Longcluse staggered back a step or two, and
+recovered himself. His pale face glared wickedly, for a moment or two,
+on the flushed and haughty young man; his arm was a little raised, and
+his fist clenched. I daresay it was just the turn of a die, at that
+moment, whether he struck him or not.
+
+These two bosom friends, and sworn brothers, of a week or two ago, were
+confronted now with strange looks, and in threatening attitude. How
+frail a thing is the worldly man's friendship, hanging on flatteries and
+community of interest! A word or two of truth, and a conflict or even a
+divergence of interest, and where is the liking, the friendship, the
+intimacy?
+
+A sudden change marked the face of Mr. Longcluse. The vivid fires that
+gleamed for a moment from his eyes sunk in their dark sockets, the
+intense look changed to one of sullen gloom. He beckoned, and said
+coldly, "Please follow me;" and then turned and walked, at a leisurely
+pace, a little way inward from the course.
+
+Richard Arden, perhaps, felt that had he hesitated it would have
+reflected on his courage. He therefore disregarded the pride that would
+have scorned even a seeming compliance with that rather haughty summons,
+and he followed him with something of the odd dreamy feeling which men
+experience when they are stepping, consciously, into a risk of life. He
+thought that Mr. Longcluse was inviting the interview for the purpose of
+arranging the preliminaries of who were to act as their "friends," and
+where each gentleman was to be heard of that evening. He followed, with
+oddly conflicting feelings, to a place in the rear of some tents. Here
+was a sort of booth. Two doors admitted to it--one to the longer room,
+where was whirling that roulette round which men who, like Richard
+Arden, could not deny themselves, even on the meanest scale, the
+excitement of chance gain and loss, were betting and bawling. Into the
+smaller room of plank, which was now empty, they stepped.
+
+"Now, Sir, you'll be so good as to observe that you have taken upon you
+a rather serious responsibility in laying your hand on me," said
+Longcluse, in a very low tone, coldly and gently. "In France, such a
+profanation would be followed by an exchange of shots, and here, under
+other circumstances, I should exact the same chance of retaliation. I
+mean to deal differently--quite differently. I have fought too many
+duels, as you know, to be the least apprehensive of being misunderstood
+or my courage questioned. For your sister's sake, not yours, I take a
+peculiar course with you. I offer you an alternative; you may have
+reconciliation--here is my hand" (he extended it)--"or you may abide the
+other consequence, at which I sha'n't hint, in pretty near futurity. You
+don't accept my hand?"
+
+"No, Sir," said Arden haughtily--more than haughtily, insolently. "I can
+have no desire to renew an acquaintance with you. I sha'n't do that.
+I'll fight you, if you like it. I'll go to Boulogne, or wherever you
+like, and we can have our shot, Sir, whenever you please."
+
+"No, if you please--not so fast. You decline my friendship--that offer
+is over," said Longcluse, lowering his hand resolutely. "I am not going
+to shoot you--I have not the least notion of that. I shall take, let me
+see, a different course with you, and I shall obtain on reflection your
+entire concurrence with the hopes I have no idea of relinquishing. You
+will probably understand me pretty clearly by-and-by."
+
+Richard Arden was angry; he was puzzled; he wished to speak, but could
+not light quickly on a suitable answer. Longcluse stood for some
+seconds, smiling his pale sinister smile upon him, and then turned on
+his heel, and walked quietly out upon the grass, and disappeared in the
+crowd.
+
+Richard Arden was irresolute. He threw open the door, and entered the
+roulette-room--looked round on all the strange faces, that did not mind
+him, or seem to see that he was there--then, with a sudden change of
+mind, he retraced his steps more quickly, and followed Longcluse through
+the other door. But there he could not trace him. He had quite vanished.
+Perhaps, next morning, he was glad that he had missed him, and had been
+compelled to "sleep upon it."
+
+Now and then, with a sense of disagreeable uncertainty, recurred to his
+mind the mysterious intimation, or rather menace, with which he had
+taken his departure. It was not, however, his business to look up
+Longcluse. He had himself seemed to intimate that the balance of insult
+was the other way. If "satisfaction," in the slang of the duellist, was
+to be looked for, the initiative devolved undoubtedly upon Longcluse.
+
+Alice was so placed on the carriage, that she did not see what passed
+immediately beside it, between Longcluse and her brother. Still, the
+appearance of this man, and his having accosted her, had agitated her a
+good deal, and for some hours the unpleasant effect of the little scene
+spoiled her enjoyment of this day of wonders.
+
+Very gaily, notwithstanding, the party returned--except, perhaps, one
+person who had reason to remember that day.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXXV.
+
+DINNER AT MORTLAKE.
+
+
+Lady May's party from the Derby dined together late, that evening, at
+Mortlake. Lord Wynderbroke, of course, was included. He was very happy,
+and extremely agreeable. When Alice, and Lady May, who was to stay that
+night at Mortlake, and Miss Maubray, who had come with Uncle David, took
+their departure for the drawing-room, the four gentlemen who remained
+over their claret drew more together, and chatted at their ease.
+
+Lord Wynderbroke was in high spirits. He admired Alice more than ever.
+He admired everything. A faint rumour had got about that something was
+not very unlikely to be. It did not displease him. He had been looking
+at diamonds the day before; he was not vexed when that amusing wag,
+Pokely, who had surprised him in the act, asked him that day, on the
+Downs, some sly questions on the subject, with an arch glance at
+beautiful Miss Arden. Lord Wynderbroke pooh-pooh'd this impertinence
+very radiantly. And now this happy peer, pleased with himself, pleased
+with everybody, with the flush of a complacent elation on his thin
+cheeks, was simpering and chatting most agreeably, and commending
+everything to which his attention was drawn.
+
+In very marked contrast with this happy man was Richard Arden, who
+talked but little, was absent, utterly out of spirits, and smiled with a
+palpable effort when he did smile. His conversation with Lady May showed
+the same uncomfortable peculiarities. It was intermittent and
+bewildered. It saddened the good lady. Was he ill? or in some
+difficulty?
+
+Now that she had withdrawn, Richard Arden seemed less attentive to Lord
+Wynderbroke than to his uncle. In so far as a wight in his melancholy
+mood could do so, he seemed to have laid himself out to please his uncle
+in those small ways where, in such situations, an anxiety to please can
+show itself. Once his father's voice had roused him with the intimation,
+"Richard, Lord Wynderbroke is speaking to you;" and he saw a very urbane
+smile on his thin lips, and encountered a very formidable glare from his
+dark eyes. The only subject on which Richard Arden at all brightened up
+was the defeat of the favourite. Lord Wynderbroke remarked,--
+
+"It seems to have caused a good deal of observation. I saw Hounsley and
+Crackham, and they shake their heads at it a good deal, and----"
+
+He paused, thinking that Richard Arden was going to interpose something,
+but nothing followed, and he continued,--
+
+"And Lord Shillingsworth, he's very well up in all these things, and he
+seems to think it is a very suspicious affair; and old Sir Thomas
+Fetlock, who should have known better, has been hit very hard, and says
+he'll have it before the Jockey Club."
+
+"I don't mind Sir Thomas, he blusters and makes a noise about
+everything," said Richard Arden; "but it was quite palpable, when the
+horse showed, he wasn't fit to run. I don't suppose Sir Thomas will do
+it, but it certainly will be done. I know a dozen men who will sell
+their horses, if it isn't done. I don't see how any man can take payment
+of the odds on Dotheboys--I don't, I assure you--till the affair is
+cleared up: _gentlemen_, of course, I mean; the other people would like
+the money all the better if it came to them by a swindle. But it
+certainly can't rest where it is."
+
+No one disputing this, and none of the other gentlemen being authorities
+of any value upon turf matters, the subject dropped, and others came on,
+and Richard Arden was silent again. Lord Wynderbroke, who was to pass
+two or three days at Mortlake, and who had made up his mind that he was
+to leave that interesting place a _promesso sposo_, was restless, and
+longed to escape to the drawing-room. So the sitting over the wine was
+not very long.
+
+Richard Arden made an effort, in the drawing-room, to retrieve his
+character with Lady May and Miss Maubray, who had been rather puzzled by
+his hang-dog looks and flagging conversation.
+
+"There are times, Lady May," said he, placing himself on the sofa beside
+her, "when one loses all faith in the future--when everything goes
+wrong, and happiness becomes incredible. Then one's wisest course seems
+to be, to take off one's hat to the good people in this planet, and go
+off to another."
+
+"Only that I know you so well," said Lady May, "I should tell
+Reginald--I mean your father--what you say; and I think your uncle,
+there, is a magistrate for the county of Middlesex, and could commit
+you, couldn't he? for any such foolish speech. Did you observe
+to-day--you saw him, of course--how miserably ill poor Pindledykes is
+looking? I don't think, really, he'll be alive in six months."
+
+"Don't throw away your compassion, dear Lady May. Pindledykes has always
+looked dying as long as I can remember, and on his last legs; but those
+last legs carry some fellows a long way, and I'm very sure he'll outlive
+me."
+
+"And what pleasure can a person so very ill as he looks take in going to
+places like that?"
+
+"The pleasure of winning other people's money," laughed Arden sourly.
+"Pindledykes knows very well what he's about. He turns his time to very
+good account, and wastes very little of it, I assure you, in pitying
+other people's misfortunes."
+
+"I'm glad to see that you and Richard are on pleasanter terms," said
+David Arden to his brother, as he sipped his tea beside him.
+
+"Egad! we are _not_, though. I hate him worse than ever. Would you
+oblige me by putting a bit of wood on the fire? I told you how he has
+treated me. I wonder, David, how the devil you could suppose we were on
+pleasanter terms!"
+
+Sir Reginald was seated with his crutch-handled stick beside him, and an
+easy fur slipper on his gouty foot, which rested on a stool, and was a
+great deal better. He leaned back in a cushioned arm-chair, and his
+fierce prominent eyes glanced across the room, in the direction of his
+son, with a flash like a scimitar's.
+
+"There's no good, you know, David, in exposing one's ulcers to
+strangers--there's no use in plaguing one's guests with family
+quarrels."
+
+"Upon my word, you disguised this one admirably, for I mistook you for
+two people on tolerably friendly terms."
+
+"I don't want to plague Wynderbroke about the puppy; there is no need to
+mention that he has made so much unhappiness. _You_ won't, neither will
+I."
+
+David nodded.
+
+"Something has gone wrong with him," said David Arden, "and I thought
+you might possibly know."
+
+"Not I."
+
+"I think he has lost money on the races to-day," said David.
+
+"I hope to Heaven he has! I'm glad of it. It will do me good; let him
+settle it out of his blackguard _post-obit_," snarled Sir Reginald, and
+ground his teeth.
+
+"If he has been gambling, he has disappointed me. He can, however,
+disappoint me but once. I had better thoughts of him."
+
+So said David Arden, with displeasure in his frank and manly face.
+
+"Playing? Of course he plays, and of course he's been making a
+blundering book for the Derby. He likes the hazard-table and the turf,
+he likes play, and he likes making books; and what he likes he does. He
+always did. I'm rather pleased you have been trying to manage him.
+You'll find him a charming person, and you'll understand what I have had
+to combat with. He'll never do any good; he is so utterly graceless."
+
+"I see my father looking at me, and I know what he means," said Richard
+Arden, with a smile, to Lady May; "I'm to go and talk to Miss Maubray.
+He wishes to please Uncle David, and Miss Maubray must be talked to; and
+I see that Uncle David envies me my little momentary happiness, and
+meditates taking that empty chair beside you. You'll see whether I am
+right. By Jove! here he comes; I sha'n't be turned away so----"
+
+"Oh, but, really, Miss Maubray has been quite alone," urged poor Lady
+May, very much pleased; "and you _must_, to please _me_; I'm sure you
+will."
+
+Instantly he arose.
+
+"I don't know whether that speech is most kind or _un_-kind; you banish
+me, but in language so flattering to my loyalty, that I don't know
+whether to be pleased or pained. Of course I obey." He said these
+parting words in a very low tone, and had hardly ended them, when David
+Arden took the vacant chair beside the good lady, and began to talk with
+her.
+
+Once or twice his eyes wandered to Richard Arden, who was by this time
+talking with returning animation to Grace Maubray, and the look was not
+cheerful. The young lady, however, was soon interested, and her
+good-humour was clever and exhilarating. I think that she a little
+admired this handsome and rather clever young man, and who can tell what
+such a fancy may grow to?
+
+That night, as Richard Arden bid him good-bye, his uncle said, coldly
+enough,--
+
+"By-the-bye, Richard, would you mind looking in upon me to-morrow, at
+five in the afternoon? I shall have a word to say to you."
+
+So the appointment was made, and Richard entered his cab, and drove into
+town dismally.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXXVI.
+
+MR. LONGCLUSE SEES A LADY'S NOTE.
+
+
+Next day Mr. Longcluse paid an early visit at Uncle David's house, and
+saw Miss Maubray in the drawing-room. The transition from that young
+lady's former, to her new life, was not less dazzling than that of the
+heroine of an Arabian tale, who is transported by friendly genii, while
+she sleeps, from a prison to the palace of a sultan. Uncle David did not
+care for finery; no man's tastes could be simpler and more camp-like.
+But these drawing-rooms were so splendid, so elegant and refined, and
+yet so gorgeous in effect, that you would have fancied that he had
+thought of nothing else all his life but china, marqueterie, buhl, Louis
+Quatorze clocks, mirrors, pale-green and gold cabriole chairs, bronzes,
+pictures, and all the textile splendours, the names of which I know not,
+that make floors and windows magnificent.
+
+The feminine nature, facile and self-adapting, had at once accommodated
+itself to the dominion over all this, and all that attended it. And Miss
+Maubray being a lady, a girl who had, in her troubled life, been much
+among high-bred people--her father a gentle, fashionable, broken-down
+man, and her mother a very elegant and charming woman--there was no
+contrast, in look, air, or conversation, to mark that all this was new
+to her: on the contrary, she became it extremely.
+
+The young lady was sitting at the piano when Longcluse came in, and to
+the expiring vibration of the chord at which she was interrupted she
+rose, with that light, floating ascent which is so pretty, and gave him
+her hand, and welcomed him with a very bright smile. She thought he was
+a likely person to be able to throw some light upon two rumours which
+interested her.
+
+"How do you contrive to keep your rooms so deliciously cool? The blinds
+are down and the windows open, but that alone won't do, for I have just
+left a drawing-room that is very nearly insupportable; yours must be the
+work of some of those pretty sylphs that poets place in attendance upon
+their heroines. How fearfully hot yesterday was! You did not go to the
+Derby with Lady May's party, I believe."
+
+He watched her clever face, to discover whether she had heard of the
+scene between him and Richard Arden--"I don't think she has."
+
+"No," she said, "my guardian, Mr. Arden, took me there instead. On
+second thoughts, I feared I should very likely be in the way. One is
+always _de trop_ where there is so much love-making; and I am a very bad
+gooseberry."
+
+"A very dangerous one, I should fancy. And who are all these lovers?"
+
+"Oh, really, they are so many, it is not easy to reckon them up. Alice
+Arden, for instance, had _two_ lovers--Lord Wynderbroke and Vivian
+Darnley."
+
+"What, two lovers charged upon one lady? Is not that false heraldry? And
+does she really care for that young fellow, Darnley?"
+
+"I'm told she really is deeply attached to him. But that does not
+prevent her accepting Lord Wynderbroke. He has spoken, and been
+accepted. Old Sir Reginald told my guardian his brother, last night, and
+_he_ told me in the carriage, as we drove home. I wonder how soon it
+will be. I should rather like to be one of her bridesmaids. Perhaps she
+will ask me."
+
+Mr. Longcluse felt giddy and stunned; but he said, quite gaily--
+
+"If she wishes to be suitably attended, she certainly will. But young
+ladies generally prefer a foil to a rival, even when so very beautiful
+as she is."
+
+"And there was Vivian Darnley at one side, I'm told, whispering all
+kinds of sweet things, and poor old Wynderbroke at the other, with his
+glasses to his eyes, reporting all he saw. Only think! What a goose the
+old creature must have looked!" And the young lady laughed merrily. "But
+can you tell me about the other affair?" she asked.
+
+"What is it?"
+
+"Oh! you know, of course--Lady May and Richard Arden; is it true that it
+was all settled the day before yesterday, at that kettle-drum?"
+
+"There again my information is quite behind yours. I did not hear a word
+of it."
+
+"But you must have seen how very much in love they both are. Poor young
+man! I really think it would have broken his heart if she had been
+cruel, particularly if it is true that he lost so much as they say at
+the Derby yesterday. I suppose he did. Do you know?"
+
+"I'm sorry to say," said Mr. Longcluse, "I'm afraid it's only too true.
+I don't know exactly how much it is, but I believe it is more than he
+can, at present, very well bear. A mad thing for him to do. I'm really
+sorry, although he has chosen to quarrel with me most unreasonably."
+
+"Oh? I wasn't aware. I fancied you would have heard all from him."
+
+"No, not a word--no."
+
+"Lady May was talking to me at Raleigh Court, the day we were there--she
+can talk of no one else, poor old thing!--and she said something had
+happened to make him and his sister very angry. She would not say what.
+She only said, 'You know how very proud they are, and I really think,'
+she said, 'they ought to have been very much pleased, for everything, I
+think, was most advantageous.' And from this I conclude there must have
+been a proposal for Alice; I shall ask her when I see her."
+
+"Yes, I daresay they are proud. Richard Arden told me so. He said that
+his family were always considered proud. He was laughing, of course, but
+he meant it."
+
+"He's proud of being proud, I daresay. I thought you would be likely to
+know whether all they say is true. It would be a great pity he should be
+ruined; but, you know, if all the rest is true, there are resources."
+
+Longcluse laughed.
+
+"He has always been very particular and a little tender in that quarter;
+very sweet upon Lady May, I thought," said he.
+
+"Oh, very much gone, poor thing!" said Grace Maubray. "I think my
+guardian will have heard all about it. He was very angry, once or twice,
+with Richard Arden about his losing so much money at play. I believe he
+has lost a great deal at different times."
+
+"A great many people do lose money so. For the sake of excitement, they
+incur losses, and risk even their utter ruin."
+
+"How foolish!" exclaimed Miss Maubray. "Have you heard anything more
+about that affair of Lady Mary Playfair and Captain Mayfair? He is now,
+by the death of his cousin, quite sure of the title, they say."
+
+"Yes it must come to him. His uncle has got something wrong with his
+leg, a fracture that never united quite; it is an old hurt, and I'm told
+he is quite breaking up now. He is at Buxton, and going on to Vichy, if
+he lives, poor man."
+
+"Oh, then, there can be no difficulty now."
+
+"No, I heard yesterday it is all settled."
+
+"And what does Caroline Chambray say to that?"
+
+And so on they chatted, till his call was ended, and Mr. Longcluse
+walked down the steps with his head pretty busy.
+
+At the corner of a street he took a cab; and as he drove to Lady May's,
+those fragments of his short talk with Grace Maubray that most
+interested him were tumbling over and over in his mind. "So they are
+angry, very angry; and very proud and haughty people. I had no business
+dreaming of an alliance with Mr. Richard Arden. Angry, he may be--he may
+affect to be--but I don't believe she is. And proud, is he? Proud of her
+he might be, but what else has he to boast of? Proud and angry--ha, ha!
+Angry and proud. We shall see. Such people sometimes grow suddenly mild
+and meek. And she has accepted Lord Wynderbroke. I doubt it. Miss
+Maubray, you are such a good-natured girl that, if you suspected the
+torture your story inflicted, you would invent it, rather than spare a
+fellow-mortal that pang."
+
+In this we know he was a little unjust.
+
+"Well, Miss Arden, I understand your brother; I shall soon understand
+_you_. At present I hesitate. Alas! must I place you, too, in the
+schedule of my lost friends? Is it come to this?--
+
+    'Once I held thee dear as pearl,
+     Now I do abhor thee.'"
+
+Mr. Longcluse's chin rests on his breast as, with a faint smile, he thus
+ruminates.
+
+The cab stops. The light frown that had contracted his eyebrows
+disappears, he glances quickly up at the drawing-room windows, mounts
+the steps, and knocks at the hall door.
+
+"Is Lady May Penrose at home?" he asked.
+
+"I'll inquire, Sir."
+
+Was it fancy, or was there in his reception something a little unusual,
+and ominous of exclusion?
+
+He was, notwithstanding, shown up-stairs. Mr. Longcluse enters the
+drawing-room: Lady May will see him in a few minutes. He is alone. At
+the further end of this room is a smaller one, furnished like the
+drawing-room, the same curtains, carpet, and style, but much more minute
+and elaborate in ornamentation--an extremely pretty boudoir. He just
+peeps in. No, no one there. Then slowly he saunters into the other
+drawing-room, picks up a book, lays it down, and looks round. Quite
+solitary is this room also. His countenance changes a little. With a
+swift, noiseless step, he returns to the room he first entered. There is
+a little marqueterie table, to which he directs his steps, just behind
+the door from the staircase, under the pretty old buhl clock that ticks
+so merrily with its old wheels and lever, exciting the reverential
+curiosity of Monsieur Racine, who keeps it in order, and comments on its
+antique works with a mysterious smile every time he comes, to any one
+who will listen to him. The door is a little bit open. All the better,
+Mr. Longcluse will hear any step that approaches. On this little table
+lies an open note, hastily thrown there, and the pretty handwriting he
+has recognised. He knows it is Alice Arden's. Without the slightest
+scruple, this odd gentleman takes it up and reads a bit, and looks
+toward the door; reads a little more, and looks again, and so on to the
+end.
+
+On the principle that listeners seldom hear good of themselves, Mr.
+Longcluse's cautious perusal of another person's letter did not tell him
+a pleasant tale.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXXVII.
+
+WHAT ALICE COULD SAY.
+
+
+The letter which Mr. Longcluse held before his eyes was destined to
+throw a strong light upon the character of Alice Arden's feelings
+respecting himself. After a few lines, it went on to say:--"And,
+darling, about going to you this evening, I hardly know what to say, or,
+I mean, I hardly know how to say it. Mr. Longcluse, you know, may come
+in at any moment, and I have quite made up my mind that I cannot know
+him. I told you all about the incredible scene in the garden at
+Mortlake, and I showed you the very cool letter with which he saw fit to
+follow it--and yesterday the scene at the races, by which he contrived
+to make everything so uncomfortable--so, my dear creature, I mean to be
+cruel, and cut him. I am quite serious. He has not an idea how to behave
+himself; and the only way to repair the folly of having made the
+acquaintance of such an ill-bred person is, as I said, to cut him--you
+must not be angry--and Richard thinks exactly as I do. So, as I long to
+see you, and, in fact, can't live away from you very long, we must
+contrive some way of meeting now and then, without the risk of being
+disturbed by him. In the meantime, you must come more to Mortlake. It is
+too bad that an impertinent, conceited man should have caused me all
+this very real vexation."
+
+There was but little more, and it did not refer to the only subject that
+interested Longcluse just then. He would have liked to read it through
+once more, but he thought he heard a step. He let it fall where he had
+found it, and walked to the window. Perhaps, if he had read it again, it
+would have lost some of the force which a first impression gives to
+sentences so terrible; as it was, they glared upon his retina, through
+the same exaggerating medium through which his excited imagination and
+feelings had scanned them at first.
+
+Lady May entered, and Mr. Longcluse paid his respects, just as usual.
+You would not have supposed that anything had occurred to ruffle him.
+Lady May was just as affable as usual, but very much graver. She seemed
+to have something on her mind, and not to know how to begin.
+
+At length, after some little conversation, which flagged once or twice--
+
+"I have been thinking, Mr. Longcluse, I must have appeared very stupid,"
+says Lady May. "I did not ask you to be one of our party to the Derby:
+and I think it is always best to be quite frank, and I know you like it
+best. I'm afraid there has been some little misunderstanding. I hope in
+a short time it will be all got over, and everything quite pleasant
+again. But some of our friends--you, no doubt, know more about it than I
+do, for I must confess, I don't very well understand it--are vexed at
+something that has occurred, and----"
+
+Poor Lady May was obviously struggling with the difficulties of her
+explanation, and Mr. Longcluse relieved her.
+
+"Pray, dear Lady May, not a word more; you have always been so kind to
+me. Miss Arden and her brother choose to visit me with displeasure. I
+have nothing to reproach myself with, except with having misapprehended
+the terms on which Miss Arden is pleased to place me. She may however,
+be very sure that I sha'n't disturb her happy evenings here, or anywhere
+assume my former friendly privileges."
+
+"But Mr. Longcluse, I'm not to lose your acquaintance," said kindly Lady
+May, who was disposed to take an indulgent and even a romantic view of
+Mr. Longcluse's extravagances. "Perhaps it may be better to avoid a risk
+of meeting, under present circumstances; and, therefore, when I'm quite
+sure that no such awkwardness can occur, I can easily send you a line,
+and you will come if you can. You will do just as it happens to answer
+you best at the time."
+
+"It is extremely kind of you, Lady May. My evenings here have been so
+very happy that the idea of losing them altogether would make me more
+melancholy than I can tell."
+
+"Oh, no, I could not consent to lose you, Mr. Longcluse, and I'm sure
+this little quarrel can't last very long. Where people are amiable and
+friendly, there may be a misunderstanding, but there can't be a real
+quarrel, I maintain."
+
+With this little speech the interview closed, and the gentleman took a
+very friendly leave.
+
+Mr. Longcluse was in trouble. Blows had fallen rapidly upon him of late.
+But, as light is polarised by encountering certain incidents of
+reflection and refraction, grief entering his mind changed its
+character.
+
+The only articles of expense in which Mr. Longcluse indulged--and even
+in those his indulgence was very moderate--were horses. He was something
+of a judge of horses, and had that tendency to form friendships and
+intimacies with them which is proper to some minds. One of these he
+mounted, and rode away into the country, unattended. He took a long
+ride, at first at a tolerably hard pace. He chose the loneliest roads he
+could find. His exercise brought him no appetite; the interesting hour
+of dinner passed unimproved. The horse was tired now. Longcluse was
+slowly returning, and looking listlessly to his right, he thus
+soliloquised:--
+
+"Alone again. Not a soul in human shape to disclose my wounds to, not a
+soul. This is the way men go mad. He knows too well the torture he
+consigns me to. How often has my hand helped him out of the penalties of
+the dice-box and betting-book! How wildly have I committed myself to
+him!--how madly have I trusted him! How plausibly has he promised. The
+confounded miscreant! Has he good-nature, gratitude, justice, honour?
+Not a particle. He has betrayed me, slandered me fatally, where only on
+earth I dreaded slander, and he knew it; and he has ruined the only good
+hope I had on earth. He has launched it: sharp and heavy is the curse.
+Wait: it shall find him out. And _she_! I did not think Alice Arden
+could have written that letter. My eyes are opened. Well, she has
+refused to hear my good angel; the other may speak differently."
+
+He was riding along a narrow old road, with palings, and quaint old
+hedgerows, and now and then an old-fashioned brick house, staid and
+comfortable, with a cluster of lofty timber embowering it, and chimney
+smoke curling cosily over the foliage; and as he rode along, sometimes a
+window, with very thick white sashes, and a multitude of very small
+panes, sometimes the summit of a gable appeared. The lowing of unseen
+cows was heard over the fields, and the whistle of the birds in the
+hedges; and behind spread the cloudy sky of sunset, showing a peaceful
+old-world scene, in which Izaak Walton's milkmaid might have set down
+her pail, and sung her pretty song.
+
+Not another footfall was heard but the clink of his own horse's hoofs
+along the narrow road; and, as he looked westward, the flush of the sky
+threw an odd sort of fire-light over his death-pale features.
+
+"Time will unroll his book," said Longcluse, dreamily, as he rode
+onward, with a loose bridle on his horse's neck, "and my fingers will
+trace a name or two on the pages that are passing. That sunset, that
+sky--how grand, and glorious, and serene--the same always. Charlemagne
+saw it, and the Caesars saw it, and the Pharaohs saw it, and we see it
+to-day. Is it worth while troubling ourselves here? How grand and quiet
+nature is, and how beautifully imperturbable! Why not we, who last so
+short a time--why not drift on with it, and take the blows that come,
+and suffer and enjoy the facts of life, and leave its dreadful dreams
+untried? Of all the follies we engage in, what more hollow than
+revenge--vainer than wealth?"
+
+Mr. Longcluse was preaching to himself, with the usual success of
+preachers. He knew himself what his harangue was driving at, although it
+borrowed the vagueness of the sky he was looking on. He fancied that he
+was discussing something with himself, which, nevertheless, was
+settled--so fixed, indeed, that nothing had power to alter it.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXXVIII.
+
+GENTLEMEN IN TROUBLE.
+
+
+Mr. Longcluse had now reached a turn in the road, at which stands an old
+house that recedes a little way and has four poplars growing in front of
+it, two at each side of the door. There are mouldy walls, and gardens,
+fruit and vegetables, in the rear, and in one wing of the house the
+proprietor is licenced to sell beer and other refreshing drinks. This
+quaint greengrocery and pot-house was not flourishing, I conjecture, for
+a cab was at the door, and Mr. Goldshed, the eminent Hebrew, on the
+steps, apparently on the point of leaving.
+
+He is a short, square man, a little round shouldered. He is very bald,
+with coarse, black hair, that might not unsuitably stuff a chair. His
+nose is big and drooping, his lips large and moist. He wears a black
+satin waistcoat, thrust up into wrinkles by his habit of stuffing his
+short hands, bedizened with rings, into his trousers pockets. He has on
+a peculiar low-crowned hat. He is smoking a cigar, and talking over his
+shoulder, at intervals, in brief sentences that have a harsh, brazen
+ring, and are charged with scoff and menace. No game is too small for
+Mr. Goldshed's pursuit. He ought to have made two hundred pounds of this
+little venture. He has not lost, it is true; but, when all is squared,
+he'll not have made a shilling, and that for a Jew, you know, is very
+hard to bear.
+
+In the midst of this intermittent snarl, the large, dark eyes of this
+man lighted on Mr. Longcluse, and he arrested the sentence that was
+about to fly over his shoulder, in the disconsolate faces of the broken
+little family in the passage. A smile suddenly beamed all over his dusky
+features, his airs of lordship quite forsook him, and he lifted his hat
+to the great man with a cringing salutation. The weaker spirit was
+overawed by the more potent. It was the catape doing homage to
+Mephistopheles, in the witch's chamber.
+
+He shuffled out upon the road, with a lazy smile, lifting his hat again,
+and very deferentially greeted "Mishter Longclooshe." He had thrown away
+his exhausted cigar, and the red sun glittered in sparkles on the chains
+and jewelry that were looped across his wrinkled black satin waistcoat.
+
+"How d'ye do, Mr. Goldshed? Anything particular to say to me?"
+
+"Nothing, no, Mr. Longclooshe. I sposhe you heard of that dip in the
+Honduras?"
+
+"They'll get over it, but we sha'n't see them so high again soon. Have
+you that cab all to yourself, Mr. Goldshed?"
+
+"No, Shir, my partner'sh with me. He'll be out in a minute; he'sh only
+puttin' a chap on to make out an inventory."
+
+"Well, I don't want him. Would you mind walking down the road here, a
+couple of hundred steps or so? I have a word for you. Your partner can
+overtake you in the cab."
+
+"Shertainly, Mr. Longclooshe, shertainly, Shir."
+
+And he halloed to the cabman to tell the "zhentleman" who was coming out
+to overtake him in the cab on the road to town.
+
+This settled, Mr. Longcluse, walking his horse along the road, and his
+City acquaintance by his side, slowly made their way towards the City,
+casting long shadows over the low fence into the field at their left;
+and Mr. Goldshed's stumpy legs were projected across the road in such
+slender proportions that he felt for a moment rather slight and elegant,
+and was unusually disgusted, when he glanced down upon the substance of
+those shadows, at the unnecessarily clumsy style in which Messrs. Shears
+and Goslin had cut out his brown trousers.
+
+Mr. Longcluse had a good deal to say when they got on a little. Being
+earnest, he stopped his horse; and Mr. Goldshed, forgetting his
+reverence in his absorption, placed his broad hand on the horse's
+shoulder, as he looked up into Mr. Longcluse's face, and now and then
+nodded, or grunted a "Surely." It was not until the shadows had grown
+perceptibly longer, until Mr. Longcluse's hat had stolen away to the
+gilded stem of the old ash-tree that was in perspective to their left,
+and until Mr. Goldshed's legs had grown so taper and elegant as to
+amount to the spindle, that the talk ended, and Mr. Longcluse, who was a
+little shy of being seen in such company, bid him good evening, and rode
+away townward at a brisk trot.
+
+That morning Richard Arden looked as if he had got up after a month's
+fever. His dinner had been a pretence, and his breakfast was a sham. His
+luck, as he termed it, had got him at last pretty well into a corner.
+The placing of the horses was a dreadful record of moral impossibilities
+accomplished against him. Five minutes before the start he could have
+sold his book for three thousand pounds; five minutes after it no one
+would have accepted fifteen thousand to take it off his hands. The
+shock, at first a confusion, had grown in the night into ghastly order.
+It was all, in the terms of the good old simile, "as plain as a
+pike-staff." He simply could not pay. He might sell everything he
+possessed, and pay about ten shillings in the pound, and then work his
+passage to another country, and become an Australian drayman, or a New
+Orleans billiard-marker.
+
+But not pay his bets! And how could he? Ten shillings in the pound? Not
+five. He forgot how far he was already involved. What _was_ to become of
+him. Breakfast he could eat none. He drank a cup of tea, but his tremors
+grew worse. He tried claret, but that, too, was chilly comfort. He was
+driven to an experiment he had never ventured before. He had a "nip,"
+and another, and with this Dutch courage rallied a little, and was able
+to talk to his friend and admirer, Vandeleur, who had made a miniature
+book after the pattern of Dick Arden's and had lost some hundreds, which
+he did not know how to pay; and who was, in his degree, as miserable as
+his chief; for is it not established that--
+
+    "The poor beetle, that we tread upon,
+     In corporal sufferance feels a pang as great
+     As when a giant dies"?
+
+Young Vandeleur, with light silken hair, and innocent blue eyes, found
+his paragon the picture of "grim-visaged, comfortless despair," drumming
+a tattoo on the window, in slippers and dressing-gown, without a collar
+to his shirt.
+
+"You lost, of course," said Richard savagely; "you followed my lead. Any
+fellow that does is sure to lose."
+
+"Yes," answered Vandeleur, "I did, heavily; and, I give you my honour, I
+believe I'm ruined."
+
+"How much?"
+
+"Two hundred and forty pounds!"
+
+"_Ruined!_ What nonsense! Who are you? or what the devil are you making
+such a row about? Two hundred and forty! How can you be such an ass?
+Don't you know it's nothing?"
+
+"Nothing! By Jove! I wish I could see it," said poor Van; "everything's
+something to any one, when there's nothing to pay it with. I'm not like
+you, you know; I'm awfully poor. I have just a hundred and twenty pounds
+from my office, and forty my aunt gives me, and ninety I get from home,
+and, upon my honour, that's all; and I owed just a hundred pounds to
+some fellows that were growing impertinent. My tailor is sixty-four, and
+the rest are trifling, but they were the most impertinent, and I was so
+sure of this unfortunate thing that I told them I--really did--to call
+next week; and now I suppose it's all up with me, I may as well make a
+bolt of it. Instead of having any money to pay them, I'm two hundred and
+forty pounds worse than ever. I don't know what on earth to do. Upon my
+honour, I haven't an idea."
+
+"I wish we could exchange our accounts," said Richard grimly: "I wish
+you owed my sixteen thousand. I think you'd sink through the earth. I
+think you'd call for a pistol, and blow"--(he was going to say, "your
+brains out," but he would not pay him that compliment)--"blow your head
+off."
+
+So it was the old case--"_Enter Tilburina, mad, in white satin; enter
+her maid, mad, in white linen._"
+
+And Richard Arden continued--
+
+"What's your aunt good for? You _know_ she will pay that; don't let me
+hear a word more about it."
+
+"And your uncle will pay yours, won't he?" said Van, with an innocent
+gaze of his azure eyes.
+
+"My uncle has paid some trifles before, but this is too big a thing.
+He's tired of me and my cursed misfortunes, and he's not likely to apply
+any of his overgrown wealth in relieving a poor tortured beggar like me.
+I'm simply ruined."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXXIX.
+
+BETWEEN FRIENDS.
+
+
+Van was looking ruefully out of the window, down upon the deserted
+pavement opposite. At length he said,--
+
+"And why don't you give your luck a chance?"
+
+"Whenever I give it a chance it hits me so devilish hard," replied
+Richard Arden.
+
+"But I mean at play to retrieve," said Van.
+
+"So do I. So I did, last night, and lost another thousand. It is utterly
+monstrous."
+
+"By Jove! that is really very extraordinary," exclaimed little Van. "I
+tried it, too, last night. Tom Franklyn had some fellows to sup with
+him, and I went in, and they were playing loo; and I lost thirty-seven
+pounds more!"
+
+"Thirty-seven confounded flea-bites! Why, don't you see how you torture
+me with your nonsense? If you can't talk like a man of sense, for
+Heaven's sake, shut up, and don't distract me in my misery."
+
+He emphasised the word with a Lilliputian thump with the side of his
+fist--that which presents the edge of the doubled-up little finger and
+palm--a sort of buffer, which I suppose he thought he might safely apply
+to the pane of glass on which he had been drumming. But he hit a little
+too hard, or there was a flaw in the glass, for the pane flew out,
+touching the window-sill, and alighted in the area with a musical
+jingle.
+
+"There! see what you made me do. My luck! Now we can't talk without
+those brutes at that open window, over the way, hearing every word we
+say. By Jove, it is later than I thought! I did not sleep last night."
+
+"Nor I, a moment," said Van.
+
+"It seems like a week since that accursed race, and I don't know whether
+it is morning or evening, or day or night. It is past four, and I must
+dress and go to my uncle--he said five. Don't leave me, Van, old fellow!
+I think I should cut my throat if I were alone."
+
+"Oh, no, I'll stay with pleasure, although I don't see what comfort
+there is in me, for I am about the most miserable dog in London."
+
+"Now don't make a fool of yourself any more," said Richard Arden. "You
+have only to tell your aunt, and say that you are a prodigal son, and
+that sort of thing, and it will be paid in a week. I look as if I was
+going to be hanged--or is it the colour of that glass? I hate it. I'll
+leave these cursed lodgings. Did you ever see such a ghost?"
+
+"Well, you do look a trifle seedy: you'll look better when you're
+dressed. It's an awful world to live in," said poor Van.
+
+"I'll not be five minutes; you must walk with me a bit of the way. I
+wish I had some fellow at my other side who had lost a hundred thousand.
+I daresay he'd think me a fool. They say Chiffington lost a hundred and
+forty thousand. Perhaps he'd think me as great an ass as I think
+you--who knows? I may be making too much of it--and my uncle is so very
+rich, and neither wife nor child; and, I give you my honour, I am sick
+of the whole thing. I'd never take a card or a dice-box in my hand, or
+back a horse, while I live, if I was once fairly out of it. He _might_
+try me, don't you think? I'm the only near relation he has on earth--I
+don't count my father, for he's--it's a different thing, you know--I and
+my sister, just. And, really, it would be nothing to him. And I think he
+suspected something about it last night; perhaps he heard a little of
+it. And he's rather hot, but he's a good-natured fellow, and he has
+commercial ideas about a man's going into the insolvent court; and, by
+Jove, you know, I'm ruined, and I don't think he'd like to see our name
+disgraced--eh, do you?"
+
+"No, I'm quite sure," said Van. "I thought so all along."
+
+"Peers and peeresses are very fine in their way, and people, whenever
+the peers do anything foolish, and throw out a bill, exclaim 'Thank
+Heaven we have still a House of Lords!' but you and I, Van, may thank
+Heaven for a better estate, the order of aunts and uncles. Do you
+remember the man you and I saw in the vaudeville, who exclaims every now
+and then, '_Vive mon oncle! Vive ma tante!_'?"
+
+So, in better spirits, Arden prepared to visit his uncle.
+
+"Let us get into a cab; people are staring at you," said Richard Arden,
+when they had walked a little way towards his uncle's house. "You look
+so utterly ruined, one would think you had swallowed poison, and were
+dying by inches, and expected to be in the other world before you
+reached your doctor's door. Here's a cab."
+
+They got in, and sitting side by side, said Vandeleur to him, after a
+minute's silence,--
+
+"I've been thinking of a thing--why did not you take Mr. Longcluse into
+council? He gave you a lift before, don't you remember? and he lost
+nothing by it, and made everything smooth. Why don't you look him up?"
+
+"I've been an awful fool, Van."
+
+"How so?"
+
+"I've had a sort of row with Longcluse, and there are reasons--I could
+not, at all events, have asked him. It would have been next to
+impossible, and now it is _quite_ impossible."
+
+"Why should it be? He seemed to like you; and I venture to say he'd be
+very glad to shake hands."
+
+"So he might, but _I_ shouldn't," said Richard imperiously. "No, no,
+there's nothing in that. It would take too long to tell; but I should
+rather go over the precipice than hold by that stay. I don't know how
+long my uncle may keep me. Would you mind waiting for me at my lodgings?
+Thompson will give you cigars and brandy and water; and I'll come back
+and tell you what my uncle intends."
+
+This appointment made, they parted, and he knocked at his uncle's door.
+The sound seemed to echo threateningly at his heart, which sank with a
+sudden misgiving.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XL.
+
+AN INTERVIEW IN THE STUDY.
+
+
+"Is my uncle at home?"
+
+"No, Sir; I expect him at five. It wants about five minutes; but he
+desired me to show you, Sir, into the study."
+
+He was now alone in that large square room. The books, each in its
+place, in a vellum uniform, with a military precision and
+nattiness--seldom disturbed, I fancy, for Uncle David was not much of a
+book-worm--chilled him with an aspect of inflexible formality; and the
+busts, in cold white marble, standing at intervals on their pedestals,
+seemed to have called up looks, like Mrs. Pentweezle, for the occasion.
+Demosthenes, with his wrenched neck and square brow, had evidently heard
+of his dealings with Lord Pindledykes, and made up his mind, when the
+proper time came, to denounce him with a tempest of appropriate
+eloquence. There was in Cicero's face, he thought, something satirical
+and conceited which was new and odious; and under Plato's external
+solemnity he detected a pleasurable and roguish anticipation of the
+coming scene.
+
+His uncle was very punctual. A few minutes would see him in the room,
+and then two or three sentences would disclose the purpose he meditated.
+In the midst of the trepidation which had thus returned, he heard his
+uncle's knock at the hall-door, and in another moment he entered the
+study.
+
+"How d'ye do, Richard? You're punctual. I wish our meeting was a
+pleasanter one. Sit down. You haven't kept faith with me. It is scarcely
+a year since, with a large sum of money, such as at your age I should
+have thought a fortune, I rescued you from bad hands and a great danger.
+Now, Sir, do you remember a promise you then made me? and have you kept
+your word?"
+
+"I confess, uncle, I know I can't excuse myself; but I was tempted, and
+I am weak--I am a fool, worse than a fool--whatever you please to call
+me, and I'm sorry. Can I say more?" pleaded the young man.
+
+"That is saying nothing. It simply means that you do the thing that
+pleases you, and break your word where your inclination prompts; and you
+are sorry because it has turned out unluckily. I have heard that you are
+again in danger. I am not going to help you." His blue eyes looked cold
+and hard, and the oblique light showed severe lines at his brows and
+mouth. It was a face which, generally kindly, could yet look, on
+occasion, stern enough. "Now, observe, I'm not going to help you; I'm
+not even going to reason with you--you can do that for yourself, if you
+please--I will simply help you with _light_. Thus forewarned, you need
+not, of course, answer any one of the questions I am about to put, and
+to ask which, I have no other claim than that which rests upon having
+put you on your feet, and paid five thousand pounds for you, only a year
+ago."
+
+"But I entreat that you do put them. I'm ashamed of myself, dear Uncle
+David; I implore of you to ask me whatever you please: I'll answer
+everything."
+
+"Well, I think I know everything; Lord Pindledykes makes no secret of
+it. He's the man, isn't he?"
+
+"Yes, Sir."
+
+"That's the sallow, dissipated-looking fellow, with the eye that squints
+outward. I know his appearance very well; I knew his good-for-nothing
+father. No one likes to have transactions with that fellow--he's
+shunned--and you chose him, of all people; and he has pigeoned you. I've
+heard all about it. Everybody knows by this time. And you have really
+lost fifteen thousand pounds to him?"
+
+"I am afraid, uncle, it is very near that."
+
+"This, you know," resumed Uncle David, "is not debt: it is ruin. You
+chose to mortgage your reversion to some Jews, for fifteen hundred a
+year, during your father's lifetime. Three hundred would have been
+ample, with the hundred a year you had before--ample; but you chose to
+do it, and the estates, whenever you succeed to them, will come to you
+with a very heavy debt charged, for those Jews, upon them. I don't
+suppose the estates are destined to continue long in our family; but
+this is a vexation which don't touch you, nephew. _I_ am, I confess,
+sorry. They were in our family, some of them, before the Conquest. No
+matter. What you have to consider is your present position. They will
+come to you, if ever, saddled with a heavy debt; and, in the meantime,
+you have fifteen hundred a year for your father's life; and I don't
+think it will sell for anything like the fifteen thousand pounds you
+have just lost. You are therefore insolvent; there is the story told. I
+see nothing for it but your becoming formally an insolvent. It is the
+_bourgeoisie_ who shrink from that sort of thing; titled men, and men of
+pleasure and fashion, don't seem to mind it. There are Lord Harry
+Newgate, and the Honourable Alfred Pentonville, and Sir Aymerick Pigeon,
+one of the oldest baronets in England, have been in the _Gazette_ within
+the last twelve months. The money I paid, on the faith of your promise,
+is worse than wasted. I'll pay no more into the pockets of rooks and
+scoundrels; I'll divide no more of my money among blackguard jockeys and
+villanous peers, simply to defer for a few months the consequences of a
+fool's incorrigible folly."
+
+"But, you know, uncle, I was not quite so mad. The thing was a swindle;
+it can't stand. The horse was not fairly treated."
+
+"I daresay: I suppose it was doctored. I don't care; I only think that
+unless you meant to go in for drugging horses and bribing jockeys, you
+had no business among such people, and at that sort of game. All I want
+is that you clearly understand that in this matter--though I would
+gladly see you safely out of it--I'll waste no more money in paying
+gambling debts."
+
+"This might have happened to anyone, Sir; it might indeed, uncle. Every
+second man you meet is more or less on the turf, and they never come to
+grief by it. No one, of course, can stand against a barefaced swindle,
+like this thing."
+
+"I don't care a farthing about other people; I've seen how it tells upon
+you. I don't affect to value your promises, Dick; I don't think that
+they are worth a shilling. How many have you made me, and broken? To me
+it seems the vice is incurable, like drunkenness. Tattersall's, or
+whatever is your place of business, is no better than the gin-palace;
+and when once a fellow is fairly on the turf, the sooner he is under it,
+the better for himself and all who like him. And you have lost money at
+play besides. I heard that quite accidentally; and I daresay that is a
+ruinous item in what I may call your schedule."
+
+"I know what people are saying; but it isn't so immense a sum, by any
+means."
+
+"I'm sorry to hear it. I wish it was enormous; I wish it was a million.
+I wish your failure could ruin every blackguard in England: the more
+heavily you have hit them all round, the better I am pleased. They hit
+you and me, Dick, pretty hard last time; it is our turn now. It is not
+my fault now, Dick, if you don't understand me perfectly. If at any
+future time I should do anything for you--by my _will_, mind--I shall
+take care so to tie it up that you can't make away with a guinea. My
+advice is not worth much to you, but I venture to give it, and I think
+the best thing you can do is to submit to your misfortune, and file your
+schedule; and when you are your own master again, I shall see if I can
+manage some small thing for you. You will have to work for your bread,
+you know, and you can't expect very much at first; but there are
+things--of course, I mean in commercial establishments, and railways,
+and that kind of thing--where I have an influence, of from a hundred and
+twenty to two hundred pounds a year, and for some of them you would
+answer pretty well, and you can tide over the time till you succeed to
+the title: and after a little while I may be able to get you raised a
+step; and when once you get accustomed to work, you can't think how you
+will come to like it. So that, on the whole, the knock you have got may
+do you some good, and make you prize your position more when you come to
+it. Will you go up-stairs, and take a cup of tea with Miss Maubray?"
+
+He used to call her Grace, when speaking to Richard. Perhaps, in the
+concussion of this earthquake, the fabric of a matrimonial scheme may
+have fallen to the ground.
+
+Richard Arden was too dejected and too agitated to accept this
+invitation, I need hardly tell you. He took his leave, chapfallen.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XLI.
+
+VAN APPOINTS HIMSELF TO A DIPLOMATIC POST.
+
+
+Mr. Vandeleur had availed himself very freely of Richard Arden's
+invitation, to amuse himself during his absence with his cheroots and
+manillas, as the clouded state of the atmosphere of his drawing-room
+testified to that luckless gentleman--if indeed he was in a condition to
+observe anything, on returning from his dreadful interview with his
+uncle.
+
+Richard's countenance was full of thunder and disaster. Vandeleur looked
+in his face, with his cigar in his fingers, and said in a faint and
+hollow tone--
+
+"Well?"
+
+To which inappropriate form of inquiry, Richard Arden deigned no reply;
+but in silence stalked to the box of cigars on the table, threw himself
+into a chair, and smoked violently for awhile.
+
+Some minutes passed. Vandeleur's eyes were fixed, through the smoke, on
+Richard's, who had fixed his on the chimney-piece. Van respected his
+ruminations. With a delicate and noiseless attention, indeed, he
+ventured to slide gently to his side the water carafe, and the brandy,
+and a tumbler.
+
+Still silence prevailed. After a time, Richard Arden poured brandy and
+water suddenly into his glass.
+
+"Think of that fellow, that uncle of mine--pretty uncle! Kind
+relation--rolling in money! He sends for me simply to tell me that he
+won't give me a guinea. He might have waited till he was asked. If he
+had nothing better to say, he need not have given me the trouble of
+going to his odious, bleak study, to hear all his vulgar advice and
+arithmetic, ending in--what do you think? He says that I'm to be had up
+in the bankrupt court, and when all that is over he'll get me appointed a
+ticket-taker on a railway, or a clerk in a pawn-office, or something. By
+Heaven! when I think of it, I wonder how I kept my temper. I'm not quite
+driven to those curious expedients, that he seems to think so natural.
+I've some cards still left in my hand, and I'll play them first, if it
+is the same to him; and, hang it! my luck can't always run the same way.
+I'll give it another chance before I give up, and to-morrow morning
+things may be very different with me."
+
+"It's an awful pity you quarrelled with Longcluse!" exclaimed Vandeleur.
+
+"That's done, and can't be undone," said Richard Arden, resuming his
+cigar.
+
+"I wonder why you quarrelled with him. Why, good heavens! that man is
+made of money, and he got you safe out of that fellow's clutches--I
+forget his name--about that bet with Mr. Slanter, don't you
+remember--and he was so very kind about it; and I'm sure he'd shake
+hands if you'd only ask him, and one way or another he'd pull you
+through."
+
+"I can't ask him, and I won't; he may ask _me_ if he likes. I'm very
+sure there is nothing he would like better, for fifty reasons, than to
+be on good terms with me again, and I have no wish to quarrel any more
+than he has. But if there is to be a reconciliation, I can't begin it.
+He must make the overtures, and that's all."
+
+"He seemed such an awfully jolly fellow that time. And it is such a
+frightful state we are both in. I never came such a mucker before in my
+life. I know him pretty well. I met him at Lady May Penrose's, and at
+the Playfairs', and one night I walked home with him from the opera. It
+is an awful pity you are not on terms with him, and--by Jove! I must go
+and have something to eat; it is near eight o'clock."
+
+Away went Van, and out of the wreck of his fortune contrived a modest
+dinner at Verey's; and pondering, after dinner, upon the awful plight of
+himself and his comrade, he came at last to the heroic resolution of
+braving the dangers of a visit to Mr. Longcluse, on behalf of his
+friend; and as it was now past nine, he hastily paid the waiter, took
+his hat, and set out upon his adventure. It was a mere chance, he knew,
+and a very unlikely one, his finding Mr. Longcluse at home at that hour.
+He knew that he was doing a very odd thing in calling at past nine
+o'clock; but the occasion was anomalous, and Mr. Longcluse would
+understand. He knocked at the door, and learned from the servant that
+his master was engaged with a gentleman in the study, on business. From
+this room he heard a voice, faintly discoursing in a deep metallic
+drawl.
+
+"Who shall I say, Sir?" asked the servant.
+
+If his mission had been less monotonous, and he less excited and
+sanguine as to his diplomatic success, he would have, as he said,
+"funked it altogether," and gone away. He hesitated for a moment, and
+determined upon the form most likely to procure an interview.
+
+"Say Mr. Vandeleur--a friend of Mr. Richard Arden's; you'll remember,
+please--a friend of Mr. Richard Arden's."
+
+In a moment the man returned.
+
+"Will you please to walk up-stairs?" and he showed him into the
+drawing-room.
+
+In little more than a minute, Mr. Longcluse himself entered. His eyes
+were fixed on the visitor with a rather stern curiosity. Perhaps he had
+interpreted the term "friend" a little too technically. He made him a
+ceremonious bow, in French fashion, and placed a chair for him.
+
+"I had the pleasure of being introduced to you, Mr. Longcluse, at Lady
+May Penrose's. My name is Vandeleur."
+
+"I have had that honour, Mr. Vandeleur, I remember perfectly. The
+servant mentioned that you announced yourself as Mr. Arden's friend, if
+I don't mistake."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XLII.
+
+DIPLOMACY.
+
+
+Mr. Vandeleur and Mr. Longcluse were now seated, and the former
+gentleman said--
+
+"Yes, I am a friend of Mr. Arden's--so much so, that I have ventured
+what I hope you won't think a very impertinent liberty. I was so very
+sorry to hear that a misunderstanding had occurred--I did not ask him
+about what--and he has been so unlucky about the Derby, you know--I
+ought to say that I am, upon my honour, a mere volunteer, so perhaps you
+will think I have no right to ask you to listen to me."
+
+"I shall be happy to continue this conversation, Mr. Vandeleur, upon one
+condition."
+
+"Pray name it."
+
+"That you report it fully to the gentleman for whom you are so kind as
+to interest yourself."
+
+"Yes, I'll certainly do that."
+
+Mr. Longcluse looked by no means so jolly as Van remembered him, and he
+thought he detected, at mention of Richard Arden's name, for a moment, a
+look of positive malevolence--I can't say absolutely, it may have been
+fancy--as he turned quickly, and the light played suddenly on his face.
+
+Mr. Longcluse could, perhaps, dissemble as well as other men; but there
+were cases in which he would not be at the trouble to dissemble. And
+here his expression was so unpleasant, upon features so strangely marked
+and so white, that Van thought the effect ugly, and even ghastly.
+
+"I shall be happy, then, to hear anything you have to say," said
+Longcluse gently.
+
+"You are very kind. I was just going to say that he has been so
+unlucky--he has lost so much money----"
+
+"I had better say, I think, at once, Mr. Vandeleur, that nothing shall
+tempt me to take any part in Mr. Arden's affairs."
+
+Van's mild blue eyes looked on him wonderingly.
+
+"You could be of so much use, Mr. Longcluse!"
+
+"I don't desire to be of any."
+
+"But--but that may be, I think it must, in consequence of the unhappy
+estrangement."
+
+He had been conning over phrases on his way, and thought that a pretty
+one.
+
+"A very happy estrangement, on the contrary, for the man who is straight
+and true, and who is by it relieved of a great--mistake."
+
+"I should be so extremely happy," said Van lingeringly, "if I were
+instrumental in inducing both parties to shake hands."
+
+"I don't desire it."
+
+"But, surely, if Richard Arden were the first to offer----"
+
+"I should decline."
+
+Van rose; he fiddled with his hat a little; he hesitated. He had staked
+too much on this--for had he not promised to report the whole thing to
+Richard Arden, who was not likely to be pleased?--to give up without one
+last effort.
+
+"I hope I am not very impertinent," he said, "but I can hardly think,
+Mr. Longcluse, that you are quite indifferent to a reconciliation."
+
+"I'm not indifferent--I'm averse to it."
+
+"I don't understand."
+
+"Will you take some tea?"
+
+"No, thanks; I do so hope that I don't quite understand."
+
+"That's hardly my fault; I have spoken very distinctly."
+
+"Then what you wish to convey is----" said Van, with his hand now at the
+door.
+
+"Is this," said Longcluse, "that I decline Mr. Arden's acquaintance,
+that I won't consider his affairs, and that I peremptorily refuse to be
+of the slightest use to him in his difficulties. I hope I am now
+sufficiently distinct."
+
+"Oh, perfectly--I----"
+
+"Pray take some tea."
+
+"And my visit is a failure. I'm awfully sorry I can't be of any use!"
+
+"None here, Sir, to Mr. Arden--none, no more than I."
+
+"Then I have only to beg of you to accept my apologies for having given
+you a great deal of trouble, and to beg pardon for having disturbed you,
+and to say good-night."
+
+"No trouble--none. I am glad everything is clear now. Good-night."
+
+And Mr. Longcluse saw him politely to the door, and said again, in a
+clear, stern tone, but with a smile and another bow, "Good-night," as he
+parted at the door.
+
+About an hour later a servant arrived with a letter for Mr. Longcluse.
+That gentleman recognised the hand, and suspended his business to read
+it. He did so with a smile. It was thus expressed:--
+
+    "SIR,
+
+    "I beg to inform you, in the distinctest terms, that neither Mr.
+    Vandeleur, nor any other gentleman, had any authority from me to
+    enter into any discussion with you, or to make the slightest
+    allusion to subjects upon which Mr. Vandeleur, at your desire, tells
+    me he, this evening, thought fit to converse with you. And I beg, in
+    the most pointed manner, to disavow all connection with, or previous
+    knowledge of, that gentleman's visit and conversation. And I do so
+    lest Mr. Vandeleur's assertion to the same effect should appear
+    imperfect without mine.--I remain, Sir, your obedient servant,
+
+    "RICHARD ARDEN.
+
+    "To Walter Longcluse, Esq."
+
+"Does any one wait for an answer?" he asked, still smiling.
+
+"Yes, Sir: Mr. Thompson, please, Sir."
+
+"Very well; ask him to wait a moment," said he, and he wrote as
+follows:--
+
+    "Mr. Longcluse takes the liberty of returning Mr. Arden's letter,
+    and begs to decline any correspondence with him."
+
+And this note, with Richard Arden's letter, he enclosed in an envelope,
+and addressed to that gentleman.
+
+While this correspondence, by no means friendly, was proceeding, other
+letters were interesting, very profoundly, other persons in this drama.
+
+Old David Arden had returned early from a ponderous dinner of the
+magnates of that world which interested him more than the world of
+fashion, or even of politics, and he was sitting in his study at
+half-past ten, about a quarter of a mile westward of Mr. Longcluse's
+house in Bolton Street.
+
+Not many letters had come for him by the late post. There were two which
+he chose to read forthwith. The rest would, in Swift's phrase, keep
+cool, and he could read them before his breakfast in the morning. The
+first was a note posted at Islington. He knew his niece's pretty hand.
+This was an "advice" from Mortlake. The second which he picked up from
+the little pack was a foreign letter, of more than usual bulk.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XLIII.
+
+A LETTER AND A SUMMONS.
+
+
+Paris? Yes, he knew the hand well. His face darkened a little with a
+peculiar anxiety. This he will read first. He draws the candles all
+together, near the corner of the table at which he sits. He can't have
+too much light on these formal lines, legible and tall as the letters
+are. He opens the thin envelope, and reads what follows:--
+
+    "DEAR AND HONOURED SIR,
+
+    "I am in receipt of yours of the 13th instant. You judge me rightly
+    in supposing that I have entered on my mission with a willing mind,
+    and no thought of sparing myself. On the 11th instant I presented
+    the letter you were so good as to provide me with to M. de la
+    Perriere. He received me with much consideration in consequence. You
+    have not been misinformed with regard to his position. His influence
+    is, and so long as the present Cabinet remain in power will continue
+    to be, more than sufficient to procure for me the information and
+    opportunities you so much desire. He explained to me very fully the
+    limits of that assistance which official people here have it in
+    their power to afford. Their prerogative is more extensive than with
+    us, but at the same time it has its points of circumscription. Every
+    private citizen has his well-defined rights, which they can in no
+    case invade. He says that had I come armed with affidavits
+    criminating any individual, or even justifying a strong and distinct
+    suspicion, their powers would be much larger. As it is, he cautions
+    me against taking any steps that might alarm Vanboeren. The baron is
+    a suspicious man, it seems, and has, moreover, once or twice been
+    under official surveillance, which has made him crafty. He is not
+    likely to be caught napping. He ostensibly practises the professions
+    of a surgeon and dentist. In the latter capacity he has a very
+    considerable business. But his principal income is derived, I am
+    informed, from sources of a different kind."
+
+"H'm! what can he mean? I suppose he explains a little further on,"
+mused Mr. Arden.
+
+    "He is, in short, a practitioner about whom suspicions of an
+    infamous kind have prevailed. One branch of his business, a rather
+    strange one, has connected him with persons, more considerable in
+    number than you would readily believe, who were, or are, political
+    refugees."
+
+"Can this noble baron be a distiller of poisons?" David Arden ruminated.
+
+    "In all his other equivocal doings, he found, on the few occasions
+    that seemed to threaten danger, mysterious protectors, sufficiently
+    powerful to bring him off scot-free. His relations of a political
+    character were those which chiefly brought him under the secret
+    notice of the police. It is believed that he has amassed a fortune,
+    and it is certain that he is about to retire from business. I can
+    much better explain to you, when I see you, the remarkable
+    circumstances to which I have but alluded. I hope to be in town
+    again, and to have the honour of waiting upon you, on Thursday, the
+    29th instant."
+
+"Ay, that's the day he named at parting. What a punctual fellow that
+is!"
+
+    "They appear to me to have a very distinct bearing upon some
+    possible views of the case in which you are so justly interested.
+    The Baron Vanboeren is reputed very wealthy, but he is by no means
+    liberal in his dealings, and is said to be insatiably avaricious.
+    This last quality may make him practicable----"
+
+"Yes, so it may," acquiesced Uncle David.
+
+    "so that disclosures of importance may be obtained, if he be
+    approached in the proper manner. Lebas was connected, as a mechanic,
+    with the dentistry department of his business. Mr. L---- has been
+    extremely kind to Lebas' widow and children, and has settled a small
+    annuity upon her, and fifteen hundred francs each upon his
+    children."
+
+"Eh? Upon my life, that is very handsome--extremely handsome. It gives
+me rather new ideas of this man--that is, if there's nothing odd in it,"
+said Mr. Arden.
+
+    "The deed by which he has done all this is, in its reciting part, an
+    eccentric one. I waited, as I advised you in mine of the 12th, upon
+    M. Arnaud, who is the legal man employed by Madame Lebas, for the
+    purpose of handing him the ten napoleons which you were so good as
+    to transmit for the use of his family; which sum he has, with many
+    thanks on the part of Madame Lebas, declined, and which, therefore,
+    I hold still to your credit. When explaining to me that lady's
+    reasons for declining your remittance, he requested me to read a
+    deed of gift from Mr. Longcluse, making the provisions I have before
+    referred to, and reciting, as nearly in these words as I can
+    remember:--'Whereas I entertained for the deceased Pierre Lebas, in
+    whose house in Paris I lodged when very young, for more than a year
+    and a half, a very great respect and regard: and whereas I hold
+    myself to have been the innocent cause of his having gone to the
+    room, as appears from my evidence, in which, unhappily, he lost his
+    life: and whereas I look upon it as a disgrace to our City of London
+    that such a crime could have been committed in a place of public
+    resort, frequented as that was at the time, without either
+    interruption or detection; and whereas, so regarding it, I think
+    that such citizens as could well afford to subscribe money,
+    adequately to compensate the family of the deceased for the
+    pecuniary loss which both his widow and children have sustained by
+    reason of his death, were bound to do so; his visit to London having
+    been strictly a commercial one; and all persons connected with the
+    trade of London being more or less interested in the safety of the
+    commercial intercourse between the two countries: and whereas the
+    citizens of London have failed, although applied to for the purpose,
+    to make any such compensation; now this deed witnesseth,' etc."
+
+"Well, in all that, I certainly go with him. We Londoners ought to be
+ashamed of ourselves."
+
+    "The widow has taken her children to Avranches, her native place,
+    where she means to live. Please direct me whether I shall proceed
+    thither, and also upon what particular points you would wish me to
+    interrogate her. I have learned, this moment, that the Baron
+    Vanboeren retires in October next. It is thought that he will fix
+    his residence after that at Berlin. My informant undertakes to
+    advise me of his address, whenever it is absolutely settled. In
+    approaching this baron, it is thought you will have to exercise
+    caution and dexterity, as he has the reputation of being cunning and
+    unscrupulous."
+
+"I'm not good at dealing with such people--I never was. I must engage
+some long-headed fellow who understands them," said he.
+
+    "I debit myself with two thousand five hundred francs, the amount of
+    your remittance on the 15th inst., for which I will account at
+    sight.--I remain, dear and honoured Sir, your attached and most
+    obedient servant,
+
+    "CHRISTOPHER BLOUNT."
+
+"I shall learn all he knows in a few days. What is it that deprives me
+of quiet till a clue be found to the discovery of Yelland Mace? And why
+is it that the fancy has seized me that Mr. Longcluse knows where that
+villain may be found? He admitted, in talking to Alice, she says, that
+he had seen him in his young days. I will pick up all the facts, and
+then consider well all that they may point to. Let us but get the
+letters together, and in time we may find out what they spell. Here am
+I, a rich but sad old bachelor, having missed for ever the best hope of
+my life. Poor Harry long dead, and but one branch of the old tree with
+fruit upon it--Reginald, with his two children: Richard, my
+nephew--Richard Arden, in a few years the sole representative of the
+whole family of Arden, and he such a scamp and fool! If a childless old
+fellow could care for such things, it would be enough to break my heart.
+And poor little Alice! So affectionate and so beautiful, left, as she
+will be, alone, with such a protector as that fellow! I pity her."
+
+At that moment her unopened note caught his eye, as it lay on the table.
+He opened it, and read these words:--
+
+    "MY DEAREST UNCLE DAVID,
+
+    "I am so miserable and perplexed, and so utterly without any one to
+    befriend or advise me in my present unexpected trouble, that I must
+    implore of you to come to Mortlake, if you can, the moment this note
+    reaches you. I know how unreasonable and selfish this urgent request
+    will appear. But when I shall have told you all that has happened,
+    you will say, I know, that I could not have avoided imploring your
+    aid. Therefore, I entreat, distracted creature as I am, that you, my
+    beloved uncle, will come to aid and counsel me; and believe me when
+    I assure you that I am in extreme distress, and without, at this
+    moment, any other friend to help me.--Your very unhappy niece,
+
+    "ALICE."
+
+He read this short note over again.
+
+"No; it is not a sick lap-dog, or a saucy maid: there is some real
+trouble. Alice has, I think, more sense--I'll go at once. Reginald is
+always late, and I shall find them" (he looked at his watch)--"yes, I
+shall find them still up at Mortlake."
+
+So instantly he sent for a cab, and pulled on again a pair of boots,
+instead of the slippers he had donned, and before five minutes was
+driving at a rapid pace towards Mortlake.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XLIV.
+
+THE REASON OF ALICE'S NOTE.
+
+
+The long drive to Mortlake was expedited by promises to the cabman; for,
+in this acquisitive world, nothing for nothing is the ruling law of
+reciprocity. It was about half-past eleven o'clock when they reached the
+gate of the avenue; it was a still night, and a segment of the moon was
+high in the sky, faintly silvering the old fluted piers and urns, and
+the edges of the gigantic trees that overhung them. They were now
+driving up the avenue. How odd was the transition from the glare and
+hurly-burly of the town to the shadowy and silent woodlands on which
+this imperfect light fell so picturesquely.
+
+There were associations enough to induce melancholy as he drove through
+those neglected scenes, his playground in boyish days, where he, and
+Harry whom he loved, had passed so many of the happy days that precede
+school. He could hear his laugh floating still among the boughs of the
+familiar trees, he could see his handsome face smiling down through the
+leaves of the lordly chestnut that stood, at that moment, by the point
+of the avenue they were passing, like a forsaken old friend overlooking
+the way without a stir.
+
+"I'll follow this clue to the end," said David Arden. "I sha'n't make
+much of it, I fear; but if it ends, as others in the same inquiry have,
+in smoke, I shall, at least, have done my utmost, and may abandon the
+task with a good grace, and conclude that Heaven declines to favour the
+pursuit. Taken for all-in-all, he was the best of his generation, and
+the fittest to head the house. Something, I thought, was due, in mere
+respect to his memory. The coldness of Reginald insulted me. If a
+favourite dog had been poisoned, he would have made more exertion to
+commit the culprit. And once in pursuit of this dark shadow, how intense
+and direful grew the interest of the chase, and---- Here we are at the
+hall-door. Don't mind knocking, ring the bell," he said to the driver.
+
+He was himself at the threshold before the door was opened.
+
+"Can I see my brother?" he asked.
+
+"Sir Reginald is in the drawing-room--a small dinner-party to-day,
+Sir--Lady May Penrose, and Lady Mary Maypol, they returned to town in
+Lady May Penrose's carriage, Lord Wynderbroke remains, Sir, and two
+gentlemen; they are at present with Sir Reginald in the smoking-room."
+
+He learned that Miss Arden was alone in the small sitting-room, called
+the card-room. David Arden had walked through the vestibule, and into
+the capacious hall. The lights were all out, but one.
+
+"Well, I sha'n't disturb him. Is Miss Alice----"
+
+"Yes, Alice is here. It is so kind of you to come!" said a voice he well
+knew. "Here I am! Won't you come up to the drawing-room, Uncle David?"
+
+"So you want to consult Uncle David," he said, entering the room, and
+looking round. "In my father's time the other drawing-rooms used to be
+open; it is a handsome suite--very pretty rooms. But I think you have
+been crying, my poor little Alice. What on earth is all this about, my
+dear! Here I am, and it is past eleven; so we must come to the point, if
+I am to hear it to-night. What is the matter?"
+
+"My dear uncle, I have been so miserable!"
+
+"Well, what is it?" he said, taking a chair; "you have refused some
+fellow you like, or accepted some fellow you don't like. I am sure you
+are at the bottom of your own misery, foolish little creature! Girls
+generally are, I think, the architects of their own penitentiaries. Sit
+there, my dear, and if it is anything I can be of the least use in, you
+may count on my doing my utmost. Only you must tell me the whole case,
+and you mustn't colour it a bit."
+
+So they sat down on a sofa, and Miss Alice told him in her own way that,
+to her amazement, that day Lord Wynderbroke had made something very like
+a confession of his passion, and an offer of his hand, which this
+unsophisticated young lady was on the point of repelling, when Lady May
+entered the room, accompanied by her friend, Lady Mary Maypol; and, of
+course, the interesting situation, for that time, dissolved. About an
+hour after, Alice, who was shocked at the sudden distinction of which
+she had become the object, and extremely vexed at the interruption which
+had compelled her to suspend her reply, and very anxious for an
+opportunity to answer with decision, found that opportunity in a little
+saunter which she and the two ladies took in the grounds, accompanied by
+Lord Wynderbroke and Sir Reginald.
+
+When the opportunity came, with a common inconsistency, she rather
+shrank from the crisis; and a slight uncertainty as to the actual
+meaning of the noble lord, rendered her perplexity still more
+disagreeable. It occurred thus: the party had walked some little
+distance, and when Alice was addressed by her father--
+
+"Here is Wynderbroke, who says he has never seen my Roman inscription!
+You, Alice, must do the honours, for I daren't yet venture on the
+grass,"--he shrugged and shook his head over his foot--"and I will take
+charge of Lady Mary and Lady May, who want to see the Derbyshire
+thistles--they have grown so enormous under my gardener's care. You
+said, May, the other evening, that you would like to see them."
+
+Lady May acquiesced with true feminine sympathy with the baronet's
+stratagem, notwithstanding an imploring glance from Alice! and Lady Mary
+Maypol, exchanging a glance with Lady May, expressed equal interest in
+the Derbyshire thistles.
+
+"You will find the inscription at the door of the grotto, only twenty
+steps from this; it was dug up when my grandfather made the round pond,
+with the fountain in it. You'll find us in the garden."
+
+Lord Wynderbroke beamed an insufferable smile on Alice, and said
+something pretty that she did not hear. She knew perfectly what was
+coming, and although resolved, she was yet in a state of extreme
+confusion.
+
+Lord Wynderbroke was talking all the way as they approached the grotto;
+but not one word of his harmonious periods did she clearly hear. By the
+time they reached the little rocky arch under the evergreens, through
+the leaves of which the marble tablet and Roman inscription were
+visible, they had each totally forgotten the antiquarian object with
+which they had set out.
+
+Lord Wynderbroke came to a standstill, and then with a smiling precision
+and distinctness, and in accents that seemed, somehow, to ring through
+her head, he made a very explicit declaration and proposal; and during
+the entire delivery of this performance, which was neat and lucid rather
+than impassioned, she remained tongue-tied, listening as if to a tale
+told in a dream.
+
+She withdrew her hand hastily from Lord Wynderbroke's tender pressure,
+and the young lady with a sudden effort, replied collectedly enough, in
+a way greatly to amaze Lord Wynderbroke.
+
+When she had done, that nobleman was silent for some time, and stood in
+the same attitude of attention with which he had heard her. With a
+heightened colour he cleared his voice, and his answer, when it came,
+was dry and pettish. He thought with great deference, that he was,
+perhaps entitled to a little consideration, and it appeared to him that
+he had quite unaccountably misunderstood what had seemed the very
+distinct language of Sir Reginald. For the present he had no more to
+say. He hoped to explain more satisfactorily to Miss Arden, after he had
+himself had a few words of explanation, to which he thought he had a
+claim, from Sir Reginald; and he must confess that, after the lengths to
+which he had been induced to proceed, he was quite taken by surprise,
+and inexpressibly wounded by the tone which Miss Arden had adopted.
+
+Side by side, at a somewhat quick pace, Miss Arden with a heightened
+colour, and Lord Wynderbroke with his ears tingling, rejoined their
+friends.
+
+"Well, my dear child," said Uncle David, with a laugh, "if you have
+nothing worse to complain of, though I am very glad to see you, I think
+we might have put off our meeting till daylight."
+
+"Oh! but you have not heard half what has happened. He has behaved in
+the most cowardly, treacherous, ungentlemanlike way," she continued
+vehemently. "Papa sent for me, and I never saw him so angry in my life.
+Lord Wynderbroke has been making his unmanly complaints to him, and papa
+spoke so violently. And _he_, instead of going away, having had from me
+the answer which nothing on earth shall ever induce me to change, _he_
+remains here; and actually had the audacity to tell me, very nearly in
+so many words, that my decision went for nothing. I spoke to him quite
+frankly, but said nothing that was at all rude--nothing that could have
+made him the least angry. I implored of him to believe me that I never
+could change my mind; and I could not help crying, I was so agitated and
+wretched. But he seemed very much vexed, and simply said that he placed
+himself entirely in papa's hands. In fact, I've been utterly miserable
+and terrified, and I do not know how I can endure those terrible scenes
+with papa. The whole thing has come upon me so suddenly. Could you have
+imagined any gentleman capable of acting like Lord Wynderbroke--so
+selfish, cruel, and dastardly?" and with these words she burst into
+tears.
+
+"Do you mean to say that he won't take your refusal?" said her uncle,
+looking very angry.
+
+"That is what he says," she sobbed. "He had an opportunity only for a
+few words, and that was the purport of them; and I was so astounded, I
+could not reply; and, instead of going away, he remains here. Papa and
+he have arranged to prolong his visit; so I shall be teased and
+frightened, and I am so nervous and agitated; and it is such an
+outrage!"
+
+"Now, we must not lose our heads, my dear child; we must consult calmly.
+It seems you don't think it possible that you may come to like Lord
+Wynderbroke sufficiently to marry him."
+
+"I would rather _die_! If this goes on, I sha'n't stay here. I'd go and
+be a governess rather."
+
+"I think you might give my house a trial first," said Uncle David
+merrily; "but it is time to talk about that by-and-by. What does May
+Penrose think of it? She sometimes, I believe, on an emergency, lights
+on a sensible suggestion."
+
+"She had to return to town with Lady Mary, who dined here also; I did
+not know she was going until a few minutes before they left. I've been
+so _miserably_ unlucky! and I could not make an opportunity without its
+seeming so rude to Lady Mary, and I don't know her well enough to tell
+her; and, you have no idea, papa is so incensed, and so peremptory; and
+what _am_ I to do? Oh! dear uncle, think of something. I know you'll
+help me."
+
+"That I will," said the old gentleman. "But allowances are to be made
+for a poor old devil so much in love as Lord Wynderbroke."
+
+"I don't think he likes me now--he can't like me," said Alice. "But he
+is angry. It is simply pride and vanity. From something papa said, I am
+sure of it, Lord Wynderbroke has been telling his friends, and speaking,
+I fancy, as if everything was arranged, and he never anticipated that I
+could have any mind of my own; and I suppose he thinks he would be
+laughed at, and so I am to undergo a persecution, and he won't hear of
+anything but what he pleases; and papa is determined to accomplish it.
+And, oh! what _am_ I to do?"
+
+"I'll tell you, but you must do exactly as I bid you. Who's there?" he
+said suddenly, as Alice's maid opened the door.
+
+"Oh! I beg pardon--Miss Alice, please," she said, dropping a curtsey and
+drawing back.
+
+"Don't go," said Uncle David, "we shall want you. What's the matter?"
+
+"Sir Reginald has been took bad with his foot again, please, Miss."
+
+"Nothing serious?" said Uncle David.
+
+"Only pain, please, Sir, in the same place."
+
+"All the better it should fix itself well in his foot. You need not be
+uneasy about it, Alice. You and your maid must be in my cab, which is at
+the hall door, in five minutes. Take leave of no one, and don't waste
+time over finery; just put a few things up, and take your dressing-case;
+and you and your maid are coming to town with me. Is my brother in the
+drawing-room?"
+
+"No, Sir, please; he is in his own room."
+
+"Are the gentlemen who dined still here?"
+
+"Two left, Sir, when Sir Reginald took ill; but Lord Wynderbroke
+remains."
+
+"Oh! and where is he?"
+
+"Sir Reginald sent for him, please, Sir--just as I came up--to his
+room."
+
+"Very good, then I shall find them both together. Now, Alice, I must
+find you and your maid in the cab in five minutes. I shall get your
+leave from Reginald, and you order the fellow to drive down to the
+little church gate in the village close by, and I'll walk after and join
+you there in a few minutes. Lose no time."
+
+With this parting charge, Uncle David ran down the stairs, and met Lord
+Wynderbroke at the foot of them, returning from his visit of charity to
+Sir Reginald's room.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XLV.
+
+COLLISION.
+
+
+"Lord Wynderbroke!" said Uncle David, and bowed rather ceremoniously.
+
+Lord Wynderbroke, a little surprised, extended two fingers and said,
+"How d'ye do, Mr. Arden?" and smiled drily, and then seemed disposed to
+pass on.
+
+"I beg your pardon, Lord Wynderbroke," said David Arden, "but would you
+mind giving me a few minutes? I have something you may think a little
+important to say, and if you will allow me, I'll say it in this
+room"--he indicated the half-open door of the dining-room, in which
+there was still some light--"I shall not detain you long."
+
+The urbane and smiling peer looked on him for a moment--rather
+darkly--with a shrewd eye; and he said, still smiling,--
+
+"Certainly, Mr. Arden; but at this hour, and being about to write a
+note, you will see that I have very little time indeed--I'm very sorry."
+
+He was speaking stiffly, and any one might have seen that he suspected
+nothing very agreeable as the result of Mr. Arden's communication.
+
+When they had got into the dining-room, and the door was closed, Lord
+Wynderbroke, with his head a little high, invited Mr. Arden to proceed.
+
+"Then, as you are in a hurry, you'll excuse my going direct to the
+point. I've come here in consequence of a note that reached me about an
+hour ago, informing me that my niece, Alice Arden, has suffered a great
+deal of annoyance. You know, of course, to what I refer?"
+
+"I should extremely regret that the young lady, your niece, should
+suffer the least vexation, from any cause; but I should have fancied
+that her happiness might be more naturally confided to the keeping of
+her father, than of a relation residing in a different house, and by no
+means so nearly interested in consulting it."
+
+"I see, Lord Wynderbroke, that I must address you very plainly, and even
+coarsely. My brother Reginald does not consult her happiness in this
+matter, but merely his own ideas of a desirable family connection. She
+is really quite miserable; she has unalterably made up her mind. You'll
+not induce her to change it. There is no chance of that. But by
+permitting my brother to exercise a pressure in favour of your suit----"
+
+"You'll excuse my interrupting for a moment, to say that there is, and
+can be, nothing but the perfectly legitimate influence of a parent.
+_Pressure_, there is none--none in the world, Sir; although I am not,
+like you, Mr. Arden, a relation--and a very near one--of Sir Reginald
+Arden's, I think I can undertake to say that he is quite incapable of
+exercising what you call a pressure upon the young lady his daughter;
+and I have to beg that you will be so good as to spare me the pain of
+hearing that term employed, as you have just now employed it--or _at
+all_, Sir, in connection with me. I take the liberty of insisting upon
+that, _peremptorily_."
+
+Mr. Arden bowed, and went on:
+
+"And when the young lady distinctly declines the honour you propose, you
+persist in paying your addresses, as though her answer meant just
+nothing."
+
+"I don't quite know, Sir, why I've listened so long to this kind of
+thing from you; you have no right on earth, Sir, to address that sort of
+thing to me. How dare you talk to me, Sir, in that--a--a--audacious tone
+upon my private affairs and conduct?"
+
+Uncle David was a little fiery, and answered, holding his head high,--
+
+"What I have to say is short and clear. I don't care twopence about your
+affairs, or your conduct, but I do very much care about my niece's
+happiness; and if you any longer decline to take the answer she has
+given you, and continue to cause her the slightest trouble, I'll make it
+a personal matter with you. Good-_night_!" he added, with an inflamed
+visage, and a stamp on the floor, thundering his valediction. And forth
+he went to pay his brief visit to his brother--not caring twopence, as
+he said, what Lord Wynderbroke thought of him.
+
+Sir Reginald had got into his dressing-gown. He was not now in any pain
+to speak of, and expressed great surprise at the sudden appearance of
+his brother.
+
+"You'll take something, won't you?"
+
+"Nothing, thanks," answered David. "I came to beg a favour."
+
+"Oh! did you? You find me very poorly," said the baronet, in a tone that
+seemed to imply, "You might easily kill me, by imposing the least
+trouble just now."
+
+"You'll be all the better, Reginald, for this little attack; it is so
+comfortably established in your foot."
+
+"Comfortably! I wish you felt it," said Sir Reginald, sharply; "and it's
+confoundedly late. Why didn't you come to dinner?"
+
+David laughed good-humouredly.
+
+"You forgot, I think, to ask me," said he.
+
+"Well, well, you know there is always a chair and a glass for you; but
+won't it do to talk about any cursed thing you wish to-morrow? I--I
+never, by any chance, hear anything agreeable. I have been tortured out
+of my wits and senses all day long by a tissue of pig-headed,
+indescribable frenzy. I vow to Heaven there's a conspiracy to drive me
+into a mad-house, or into my grave; and I declare to my Maker, I wish
+the first time I'm asleep, some fellow would come in and blow my brains
+out on the pillow."
+
+"I don't know an easier death," said David; and his brother, who meant
+it to be terrific, did not pretend to hear him. "I have only a word to
+say," he continued, "a request you have never refused to other friends,
+and, in fact, dear Reginald, I ventured to take it for granted you would
+not refuse me; so I have taken Alice into town, to make me a little
+visit of a day or two."
+
+"You haven't taken Alice--you don't mean--she's not gone?" exclaimed the
+baronet, sitting up with a sudden perpendicularity, and staring at his
+brother as if his eyes were about to leap from their sockets.
+
+"I'll take the best care of her. Yes, she _is_ gone," said David.
+
+"But my dear, excellent, worthy--why, curse you, David, you can't
+possibly have done anything so clumsy! Why, you forgot that Wynderbroke
+is here; how on earth am I to entertain Wynderbroke without her?"
+
+"Why, it is exactly because Lord Wynderbroke is here, that I thought it
+the best time for her to make me a visit."
+
+"I protest to Heaven, David, I believe you're deranged! Do you the least
+know what you are saying?"
+
+"Perfectly. Now, my dear Reginald, let us look at the matter quietly.
+The girl does not like him; she would not marry him, and never will; she
+has grown to hate him; his own conduct has made her despise and detest
+him; and she's not the kind of girl who would marry for a mere title.
+She has unalterably made up her mind; and these are not times when you
+can lock a young lady into her room, and starve her into compliance; and
+Alice is a spirited girl--all the women of our family were. You're no
+goose like Wynderbroke--you only need to know that the girl has quite
+made up her mind, or her heart, or her hatred, or whatever it is, and
+she won't marry him. It is as well he should know it at first, as at
+last; and I don't think, if he were a gentleman, peer though he be, he
+would have been in this house to-night. He counted on his title: he was
+too sure. I am very proud of Alice. And now he can't bear the
+mortification--having, like a fool, disclosed his suit to others before
+it had succeeded--of letting the world know he has been refused; and to
+this petty vanity he would sacrifice Alice, and prevail on you, if he
+could, to bully her into accepting him, a plan in which, if he
+perseveres, I have told him he shall, besides failing ridiculously, give
+me a meeting; for I will make it a personal quarrel with him."
+
+Sir Reginald sat in his chair, looking very white and wicked, with his
+eyes gleaming fire on his brother. He opened his mouth once or twice, to
+speak, but only drew a short breath at each attempt.
+
+David Arden rather wondered that his brother took all this so quietly.
+If he had observed him a little more closely, he would have seen that
+his hands were trembling, and perceived also that he had tried
+repeatedly to speak, and that either voice or articulation failed him.
+On a sudden he recovered, and regardless of his gout started to his
+feet, and limped along the floor, exclaiming,--
+
+"Help us--help us--God help us! What's this? My--my--oh, my God! It's
+very bad!" He was stumping round and round the table, near which he had
+sat, and restlessly shoving the pamphlets and books hither and thither
+as he went. "What have I done to earn this curse?--was ever mortal so
+pursued? The last thing, this was; now all's gone--quite gone--it's
+over, quite. They've done it--they've done it. _Bravo! bravi tutti!
+brava!_ All--all, and everything gone! To think of her--only to think of
+her! She was my pet." (And in his bleak, trembling voice, he cried a
+horrid curse at her.) "I tell you," he screamed, dashing his hand on the
+table, at the other end of which he had arrested his monotonous shuffle
+round it, when his brother caught suddenly his vacant eye, "you think,
+because I'm down in the world, and you are prosperous, that you can do
+as you like. If I was where I should be, you daren't. I'll have her
+back, Sir. I'll have the police with you. I'll--I'll indict you--it's a
+police-office affair. They'll take her through the streets. Where's the
+wretch like her? I charge her--let them take her by the shoulder. And my
+son, Richard--to think of him!--the cursed puppy!--his _post obit_! One
+foot in the grave, have I? No, I'm not so near smoked out as you take
+me--I've a long time for it--I've a long life. I'll live to see him
+broken--without a coat to his back--you villanous, swindling dandy, and
+I'll----"
+
+His voice got husky, and he struck his thin fist on the table, and clung
+to it, and the room was suddenly silent.
+
+David Arden rang the bell violently, and got his arm round his brother,
+who shook himself feebly, and shrugged, as if he disdained and hated
+that support.
+
+In came Crozier, who looked aghast, but wheeled his easy-chair close to
+where he stood, and between them they got him into it, trembling from
+head to foot.
+
+Martha Tansey came in and lent her aid, and beckoning her to the door,
+David Arden asked her if she thought him very ill.
+
+"I 'a' seen him just so a dozen times over. He'll be well enough, soon,
+and if ye knew him as weel in they takins, ye'd ho'd wi' me, there's
+nothing more than common in't; he's a bit teathy and short-waisted, and
+always was, and that's how he works himself into them fits."
+
+So spoke Tansey, into whose talk, in moments of excitement, returned
+something of her old north-country dialect.
+
+"Well, so he was, vexed with me, as with other people, and he has
+over-excited himself; but as he has this little gout about him, I may as
+well send out his doctor as I return."
+
+This little conversation took place outside Sir Reginald's room-door,
+which David did not care to re-enter, as his brother might have again
+become furious on seeing him. So he took his leave of Martha Tansey, and
+their whispered dialogue ended. One or two sighs and groans showed that
+Sir Reginald's energies were returning. David Arden walked quickly
+across the vast hall, in which now burned duskily but a single candle,
+and let himself out into the clear, cold night; and as he walked down
+the broad avenue he congratulated himself on having cut the Gordian
+knot, and liberated his niece.
+
+It was a pleasant walk by the narrow road, with its lofty groining of
+foliage, down to the village outpost of Islington, where, under the
+shadow of the old church-spire, he found his cab waiting, with Alice and
+her maid in it.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XLVI.
+
+AN UNKNOWN FRIEND.
+
+
+As they drove into town, Uncle David was thinking how awkward it would
+be if Sir Reginald should have recovered his activity, and dispatched a
+messenger to recall Alice, and await their arrival at his door. Well, he
+did not want a quarrel; he hated a fracas; but he would not send Alice
+back till next morning, come what might; and then he would return with
+her, and see Lord Wynderbroke again, and take measures to compel an
+immediate renunciation of his suit. As for Reginald, he would find
+arguments to reconcile him to the disappointment. At all events, Alice
+had thrown herself upon his protection, and he would not surrender her
+except on terms.
+
+Uncle David was silent, having all this matter to ruminate upon. He left
+a pencilled line for Sir Henry Margate, his brother's physician, and
+then drove on towards home.
+
+Turning into Saint James's Street, Alice saw her brother standing at the
+side of a crossing, with a great-coat and a white muffler on, the air
+being sharp. A couple of carriages drawn up near the pavement, and the
+passing of two or three others on the outside, for a moment checked
+their progress, and Alice, had not the window been up, could have spoken
+to him as they passed. He did not see them, but the light of a lamp was
+on his face, and she was shocked to see how ill he looked.
+
+"There is Dick," she said, touching her uncle's arm, "looking so
+miserable! Shall we speak to him!"
+
+"No, dear, never mind him--he's well enough." David Arden peeped at his
+nephew as they passed. "He is beginning to take an interest in what
+really concerns him."
+
+She looked at her uncle, not understanding his meaning.
+
+"We can talk of it another time, dear," he added with a cautionary
+glance at the maid, who sat in the corner at the other side.
+
+Richard Arden was on his way to the place where he meant to recover his
+losses. He had been playing deep at Colonel Marston's lodgings, but not
+yet luckily. He thought he had used his credit there as far as he could
+successfully press it.
+
+The polite young men who had their supper there that night, and played
+after he left till nearly five o'clock in the morning, knew perfectly
+what he had lost at the Derby; but they did not know how perilously, on
+the whole, he was already involved. Was Richard Arden, who had lost
+nearly seven hundred pounds at Colonel Marston's little gathering,
+though he had not paid them yet, now quite desperate? By no means. It is
+true he had, while Vandeleur was out, made an excursion to the City,
+and, on rather hard terms, secured a loan of three hundred pounds--a
+trifle which, if luck favoured, might grow to a fortune; but which, if
+it proved contrary, half an hour would see out.
+
+He had locked this up in his desk, as a reserve for a theatre quite
+different from Marston's little party; and on his way to that more
+public and also more secret haunt, he had called at his lodgings for it.
+It was not that small deposit that cheered him, but a curious and
+unexpected little note which he found there. It presented by no means a
+gentlemanlike exterior. The hand was a round clerk's-hand, with
+flourishing capitals, on an oblong blue envelope, with a vulgar little
+device. A dun, he took it to be; and he was not immediately relieved
+when he read at the foot of it, "Levi." Then he glanced to the top, and
+read, "DEAR SIR."
+
+This easy form of address he read with proper disdain.
+
+    "I am instructed by a most respectable party who is desirous to
+    assist you, to the figure of L1,000 or upwards, at nominal
+    discounts, to meet you and ascertain your wishes thereupon, if
+    possible to-night, lest you should suffer inconvenience.
+
+    "Yours truly,
+    "ISRAEL LEVI.
+
+    "P.S.--In furtherance of the above, I shall be at Dignum's Divan,
+    Strand, from 11 P.M. to-night to 1 A.M."
+
+Here then, at last, was a sail in sight!
+
+With this note in his pocket, he walked direct to the place of
+rendezvous, in the Strand. It was on his way that, unseen by him, his
+sister and his uncle had observed him, on their drive to David Arden's
+house.
+
+There were two friends only whom he strongly suspected of this very
+well-timed interposition--there was Lady May Penrose, and there was
+Uncle David. Lady May was rich, and quite capable of a generous
+sacrifice for him. Uncle David, also rich, would like to show an
+intimidating front, as he had done, but would hardly like to see him go
+to the wall. There was, I must confess, a trifling bill due to Mr.
+Longcluse, who had kindly got or given him cash for it. It was something
+less than a hundred pounds--a mere nothing; but in their altered
+relations, it would not do to permit any miscarriage of this particular
+bill. He might have risked it in the frenzy of play. But to stoop to ask
+quarter from Longcluse was more than his pride could endure. No; nor
+would the humiliation avail to arrest the consequences of his neglect.
+In the general uneasiness and horror of his situation, this little point
+was itself a centre of torture, and now his unknown friend had come to
+the rescue, and in the golden sunshine of his promise it, like a hundred
+minor troubles, was dissolving.
+
+In Pall Mall he jumped into a cab, feeling strangely like himself again.
+The lights, the clubs, the well-known perspectives, the stars above him,
+and the gliding vehicles and figures that still peopled the streets, had
+recovered their old cheery look; he was again in the upper world, and
+his dream of misery had broken up and melted. Under the great coloured
+lamp, yellow, crimson, and blue, that overhung the pavement, emblazoned
+on every side with transparent arabesques, and in gorgeous capitals
+proclaiming to all whom it might concern "DIGNUM'S DIVAN," he dismissed
+his cab, took his counter in the cigar shop, and entered the great rooms
+beyond. The first of these, as many of my readers remember, was as large
+as a good-sized Methodist Chapel; and five billiard-tables, under a
+blaze of gas, kept the many-coloured balls rolling, and the marker busy,
+calling "Blue on brown, and pink your player," and so forth; and
+gentlemen young and old, Christians and Hebrews, in their shirt-sleeves,
+picked up shillings when they took "lives," or knocked the butts of
+their cues fiercely on the floor when they unexpectedly lost them.
+
+Among a very motley crowd, Richard Arden slowly sauntering through the
+room found Mr. Levi, whose appearance he already knew, having once or
+twice had occasion to consult him financially. His play was over for the
+night. The slim little Jew, with black curly head, large fierce black
+eyes, and sullen mouth, stood with his hands in his pockets, gaping
+luridly over the table where he had just, he observed to his friend
+Isaac Blumer, who did not care if he was hanged, "losht sheven pound
+sheventeen, ash I'm a shinner!"
+
+Mr. Levi saw Richard Arden approaching, and smiled on him with his wide
+show of white fangs. Richard Arden approached Mr. Levi with a grave and
+haughty face. Here, to be sure, was nothing but what Horace Walpole used
+to call "the mob." Not a human being whom he knew was in the room; still
+he would have preferred seeing Mr. Levi at his office; and the audacity
+of his presuming to grin in that familiar fashion! He would have liked
+to fling one of the billiard-balls in his teeth. In a freezing tone, and
+with his head high, he said,--
+
+"I think you are Mr. Levi."
+
+"The shame," responded Levi, still smiling; "and 'ow ish Mr. Harden
+thish evening?"
+
+"I had a note from you," said Arden, passing by Mr. Levi's polite
+inquiry, "and I should like to know if any of that money you spoke of
+may be made available to-night."
+
+"Every shtiver," replied the Jew cheerfully.
+
+"I can have it all? Well, this is rather a noisy place," hesitated
+Richard Arden, looking around him.
+
+"I can get into Mishter Dignum's book-offish here, Mr. Harden, and it
+won't take a moment. I haven't notes, but I'll give you our cheques, and
+there'sh no place in town they won't go down as slick as gold. I'll
+fetch you to where there's pen and ink."
+
+"Do so," said he.
+
+In a very small room, where burned a single jet of gas, Mr. Arden signed
+a promissory note for, L1,012 10s., for which Mr. Levi handed him
+cheques of his firm for L1,000.
+
+Having exchanged these securities, Richard Arden said--
+
+"I wish to put one or two questions to you, Mr. Levi." He glanced at a
+clerk who was making "tots" from a huge folio before him, on a slip of
+paper, and transferring them to a small book, with great industry.
+
+Levi understood him and beckoned in silence, and when they both stood in
+the passage he said--
+
+"If you want a word private with me, Mr. Harden, where there'sh no one
+can shee us, you'll be as private as the deshert of Harabia if you walk
+round the corner of the shtreet."
+
+Arden nodded, and walked out into the Strand, accompanied by Mr. Levi.
+They turned to the left, and a few steps brought them to the corner of
+Cecil Street. The street widens a little after you pass its narrow
+entrance. It was still enough to justify Mr. Levi's sublime comparison.
+The moon shone mistily on the river, which was dotted and streaked, at
+its further edge with occasional red lights from windows, relieved by
+the black reflected outline of the building which made their
+back-ground. At the foot of the street, at that time, stood a clumsy
+rail, and Richard Arden leaned his arm on this, as he talked to the Jew,
+who had pulled his short cloak about him; and in the faint light he
+could not discern his features, near as he stood, except, now and then,
+his white eye-balls, faintly, as he turned, or his teeth when he smiled.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XLVII.
+
+BY THE RIVER.
+
+
+"You mentioned, Mr. Levi, in your note, that you were instructed, by
+some person who takes an interest in me, to open this business," said
+Richard Arden, in a more conciliatory tone. "Will your instructions
+permit you to tell me who that person is?"
+
+"No, no," drawled Mr. Levi, with a slow shake of his head; "I declare to
+you sholemnly, Mr. Harden, I couldn't. I'm employed by a third party,
+and though I may make a tolerable near guess who's firsht fiddle in the
+bishness, I can't shay nothin'."
+
+"Surely you can say this--it is hardly a question, I am so sure of
+it--is the friend who lends this money a gentleman?"
+
+"I think the pershon as makesh the advanshe is a bit of a shwell. There,
+now, that'sh enough."
+
+"But I said a _gentleman_," persisted Arden.
+
+"You mean to ask, hashn't a lady got nothing to do with it?"
+
+"Well, suppose I do?"
+
+Mr. Levi shook his head slowly, and all his white teeth showed dimly, as
+he answered with an unctuous significance that tempted Arden strongly to
+pitch him into the river.
+
+"We puts the ladiesh first; ladiesh and shentlemen, that's the way it
+goes at the theaytre; if a good-looking chap's a bit in a fix, there'sh
+no one like a lady to pull him through."
+
+"I really want to know," said Richard Arden, with difficulty restraining
+his fury. "I have some relations who are likely enough to give me a lift
+of this kind; some _are_ ladies, and some gentlemen, and I have a right
+to know to whom I owe this money."
+
+"To our firm; who elshe? We have took your paper, and you have our
+cheques on Childs'."
+
+"_Your_ firm lend money at five per cent.!" said Arden with contempt.
+"You forget, Mr. Levi, you mentioned in your note, distinctly, that you
+act for another person. Who _is_ that principal for whom you act?"
+
+"I don't know."
+
+"Come, Mr. Levi! you are no simpleton; you may as well tell me--no one
+shall be a bit the wiser--for I _will_ know."
+
+"Azh I'm a shinner--as I hope to be shaved----" began Mr. Levi.
+
+"It won't do--you may just as well tell me--out with it!"
+
+"Well, here now; I _don't_ know, but if I did, upon my shoul, I wouldn't
+tell you."
+
+"It is pleasant to meet with so much sensitive honour, Mr. Levi," said
+Richard Arden very scornfully. "I have nothing particular to say, only
+that your firm were mistaken, a little time ago, when they thought that
+I was without resources; I've friends, you now perceive, who only need
+to learn that I want money, to volunteer assistance. Have you anything
+more to say?"
+
+Richard Arden saw the little Jew's fine fangs again displayed in the
+faint light, as he thus spoke; but it was only prudent to keep his
+temper with this lucky intervenient.
+
+"I have nothing to shay, Mr. Harden, only there'sh more where that came
+from, and I may tell you sho, for that'sh no shecret. But don't you go
+too fasht, young gentleman--not that you won't get it--but don't you go
+too fasht."
+
+"If I should ever ask your advice, it will be upon other things. I'm
+giving the lender as good security as I have given to any one else. I
+don't see any great wonder in the matter. Good-night," he said
+haughtily, not taking the trouble to look over his shoulder as he walked
+away.
+
+"Good-night," responded Mr. Levi, taking one of Dignum's cigars from his
+waistcoat-pocket, and preparing to light it with a lazy grin, as he
+watched the retreating figure lessening in the perspective of the
+street, "and take care of yourshelf for my shake, _do_, and don't you be
+lettin' all them fine women be throwin' their fortunes like that into
+your 'at, and bringin' themshelves to the workus, for love of your
+pretty fashe--poor, dear, love-sick little fools! There you go, right
+off to Mallet and Turner's, I dareshay, and good luck attend you, for a
+reglar lady-killin', 'ansome, sweet-spoken, broken-down jackass!"
+
+At this period of his valediction the vesuvian was applied to his cigar,
+and Richard Arden, turning the far corner of the street, escaped the
+remainder of his irony, as the Jew, with his hands in his pockets,
+sauntered up its quiet pavement, in the direction in which Richard Arden
+had just disappeared. It seemed to that young gentleman that his
+supplies, no less than thirteen hundred pounds, would all but command
+the luck of which, as his spirits rose, he began to feel confident.
+"Fellows," he thought, "who have gone in with less than fifty, have come
+out, to my knowledge, with thousands; and if less than fifty could do
+that, what might not be expected from thirteen hundred?"
+
+He picked up a cab. Never did lover fly more impatiently to the feet of
+his mistress than Richard Arden did, that night, to the shrine of the
+goddess whom he worshipped.
+
+The muttered scoffs, the dark fiery gaze, the glimmering teeth of this
+mocking, malicious little Jew, represented an influence that followed
+Richard Arden that night.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XLVIII.
+
+SUDDEN NEWS.
+
+
+What is luck? Is there such an influence? What type of mind rejects
+altogether, and consistently, this law or power? Call it by what name
+you will, fate or fortune, did not Napoleon, the man of death and of
+action, and did not Swedenborg, the man of quietude and visions,
+acknowledge it? Where is the successful gamester who does not "back his
+luck," when once it has declared itself, and bow before the storms of
+fortune when they in turn have set in? I take Napoleon and
+Swedenborg--the man of this visible world, and the man of the invisible
+world--as the representatives of extreme types of mind. People who have
+looked into Swedenborg's works will remember curious passages on the
+subject, and find more dogmatical, and less metaphysical admissions in
+Napoleon's conversations everywhere.
+
+In corroboration of this theory, that luck is an element, with its
+floods and ebbs, against which it is fatuity to contend, was the result
+of Richard Arden's play.
+
+Before half-past two, he had lost every guinea of his treasure. He had
+been drinking champagne. He was flushed, dismal, profoundly angry. Hot
+and headachy, he was ready to choke with gall. There was a big,
+red-headed, vulgar fellow beside him, with a broad-brimmed white hat,
+who was stuffing his pockets and piling the table before him, as though
+he had found the secret of an "open sesame," and was helping himself
+from the sacks of the Forty Thieves.
+
+When Richard had lost his last pound, he would have liked to smash the
+gas-lamps and windows, and the white hat and the red head in it, and
+roar the blasphemy that rose to his lips. But men can't afford to make
+themselves ridiculous, and as he turned about to make his unnoticed
+exit, he saw the little Jew, munching a sandwich, with a glass of
+champagne beside him.
+
+"I say," said Richard Arden, walking up to the little man, whose big
+mouth was full of sandwich, and whose fierce black eyes encountered his
+instantaneously, "you don't happen to have a little more, on the same
+terms, about you?"
+
+Mr. Levi waited to bolt his sandwich, and then swallow down his
+champagne.
+
+"Shave me!" exclaimed he, when this was done. "The thoushand gone! every
+rag! and" (glancing at his watch) "only two twenty-five! Won't it be
+rayther young, though, backin' such a run o' bad luck, and throwin' good
+money after bad, Mr. Harden?"
+
+"That's my affair, I fancy; what I want to know is whether you have got
+a few hundreds more, on the same terms--I mean, from the same lender.
+Hang it, say yes or no--can't you?"
+
+"Well, Mr. Harden, there's five hundred more--but 'twasn't expected
+you'd a' drew it so soon. How much do you say, Mr. Harden?"
+
+"I'll take it all," said Richard Arden. "I wish I could have it without
+these blackguards seeing."
+
+"They don't care, blesh ye! if you got it from the old boy himself. That
+_is_ a rum un!" There were pen and ink on a small table beside the wall,
+at which Mr. Levi began rapidly to fill in the blanks of a bill of
+exchange. "Why, there's not one o' them, almost, but takes a hundred now
+and then from me, when they runs out a bit too fast. You'd better shay
+one month."
+
+"Say two, like the other, and don't keep me waiting."
+
+"You'd better shay one--your friend will think you're going a bit too
+quick to the devil. Remember, as your proverb shays, 'taint the thing to
+kill the gooshe that laysh the golden eggs--shay one month."
+
+Levi's large black eye was fixed on him, and he added, "If you want it
+pushed on a bit when it comes due, there won't be no great trouble about
+it, I calculate."
+
+Richard Arden looked at the large fierce eyes that were silently fixed
+on him: one of those eyes winked solemnly and significantly.
+
+"Well, what way you like, only be quick," said Richard Arden.
+
+His new sheaf of cheques were quickly turned into counters; and, after
+various fluctuations, these counters followed the rest, and in the grey
+morning he left that haunt jaded and savage, with just fifteen pounds in
+his pocket, the wreck of the large sum which he had borrowed to restore
+his fortunes.
+
+It needs some little time to enable a man, who has sustained such a
+shock as Richard Arden had, to collect his thoughts and define the
+magnitude of his calamity. He let himself in by a latch-key: the grey
+light was streaming through the shutters, and turning the chintz pattern
+of his window-curtains here and there, in streaks, into transparencies.
+He went into his room and swallowed nearly a tumbler of brandy, then
+threw off his clothes, drank some more, and fell into a flushed stupor,
+rather than a sleep, and lay for hours as still as any dead man on the
+field of battle.
+
+Some four hours of this lethargy, and he became conscious, at intervals,
+of a sound of footsteps in his room. The shutters were still closed. He
+thought he heard a voice say, "Master Richard!" but he was too drowsy,
+still, to rouse himself.
+
+At length a hand was laid upon him, and a voice that was familiar to his
+ear repeated twice over, more urgently, "Master Richard! Master
+Richard!" He was now awake: very dimly, by his bedside, he saw a figure
+standing. Again he heard the same words, and wondered, for a few
+seconds, where he was.
+
+"That's Crozier talking," said Richard.
+
+"Yes, Sir," said Crozier, in a low tone; "I'm here half-an-hour, Sir,
+waiting till you should wake."
+
+"Let in some light; I can't see you."
+
+Crozier opened half the window-shutter, and drew the curtain.
+
+"Are ye ailin', Master Richard--are ye bad, Sir?"
+
+"Ailing--yes, I'm bad enough, as you say--I'm miserable. I don't know
+where to turn or what to do. Hold my coat while I count what's in the
+pocket. If my father, the old scoundrel----"
+
+"Master Richard, don't ye say the like o' that no more; all's over, this
+morning, wi' the old master--Sir Reginald's dead, Sir," said the old
+follower, sternly.
+
+"Good God!" cried Richard, starting up in his bed and staring at old
+Crozier with a frightened look.
+
+"Ay, Sir," said the old servant, in a low stern tone, "he's gone at
+last: he was took just a quarter past five this mornin', by the clock at
+Mortlake, about four minutes before St. Paul's chimed the quarter. The
+wind being southerly, we heard the chimes. We thought he was all right,
+and I did not leave him until half-past twelve o'clock, having given him
+his drops, and waited till he went asleep. It was about three he rang
+his bell, and in I goes that minute, and finds him sitting up in his
+bed, talking quite silly-like about old Wainbridge, the groom, that's
+dead and buried, away in Skarkwynd Churchyard, these thirty year."
+
+Crozier paused here. He had been crying hours ago, and his eyes and nose
+still showed evidences of that unbecoming weakness. Perhaps he expected
+Richard, now Sir Richard Arden, to say something, but nothing came.
+
+"'Tis a change, Sir, and I feel a bit queer; and as I was sayin', when I
+went in, 'twas in his head he saw Tom Wainbridge leadin' a horse saddled
+and all into the room, and standin' by the side of his bed, with the
+bridle in his hand, and holdin' the stirrup for him to mount. 'And what
+the devil brings Wainbridge here, when he has his business to mind in
+Yorkshire? and where could he find a horse like that beast? He's waiting
+for me; I can hear the roarin' brute, and I see Tom's parchment face at
+the door--_there_,' he'd say, 'and _there_--where are your eyes,
+Crozier, can't you see, man? Don't be afraid--can't you look--and don't
+you hear him? Wainbridge's old nonsense.' And he'd laugh a bit to
+himself every now and again, and then he'd whimper to me, looking a bit
+frightened, 'Get him away, Crozier, will you? He's annoying me, he'll
+have me out,' and this sort o' talk he went on wi' for full twenty
+minutes. I rang the bell to Mrs. Tansey's room, and when she was come we
+agreed to send in the brougham for the doctor. I think he was a bit
+wrong i' the garrets, and we were both afraid to let it be no longer."
+
+Crozier paused for a moment, and shook his head.
+
+"We thought he was goin' asleep, but he wasn't. His eyes was half shut,
+and his shoulders against the pillows, and Mrs. Tansey was drawin' the
+eider-down coverlet over his feet, softly, when all on a sudden--I
+thought he was laughin'--a noise like a little flyrin' laugh, and then a
+long, frightful yellock, that would make your heart tremble, and awa'
+wi' him into one o' them fits, and so from one into another, until when
+the doctor came he said he was in an apoplexy; and so, at just a quarter
+past five the auld master departed. And I came in to tell you, Sir; and
+have you any orders to give me, Master Richard? and I'm going on, I take
+it you'd wish me, to your uncle, Mr. David, and little Miss Alice, that
+han't heard nout o' the matter yet."
+
+"Yes, Crozier--go," said Richard Arden, staring on him as if his soul
+was in his eyes; and, after a pause, with an effort, he added--"I'll
+call there as I go on to Mortlake; tell them I'll see them on my way."
+
+When Crozier was gone, Richard Arden got up, threw his dressing-gown
+about him, and sat on the side of his bed, feeling very faint. A sudden
+gush of tears relieved the strange paroxysm. Then come other emotions
+less unselfish. He dressed hastily. He was too much excited to make a
+breakfast. He drank a cup of coffee, and drove to Uncle David's house.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XLIX.
+
+VOWS FOR THE FUTURE.
+
+
+As he drove to his uncle's house, he was tumbling over facts and
+figures, in the endeavour to arrive at some conclusion as to how he
+stood in the balance-sheet that must now be worked out. What a thing
+that _post-obit_ had turned out! Those cursed Jews who had dealt with
+him must have known ever so much more about his poor father's health
+than he did. They are such fellows to worm out the secrets of a
+family--all through one's own servants, and doctors, and apothecaries.
+The spies! They stick at nothing--such liars! How they pretended to wish
+to be off! What torture they kept him in! How they talked of the old
+man's nervous fibre, and pretended to think he would live for twenty
+years to come!
+
+"And the deed was not six weeks signed when I found out he had those
+epileptic fits, and they knew it, the wretches!--and so I've been hit
+for that huge sum of money. And there is interest, two years' nearly, on
+that other charge, and that swindle that half ruined me on the Derby.
+And there are those bills that Levi has got, but that is only fifteen
+hundred, and I can manage that any time, and a few other trifles."
+
+And he thought what yeoman's service Longcluse might and _would_ have
+rendered him in this situation. How translucent the whole opaque
+complexity would have become in a hour or two, and at what easy interest
+he would have procured him funds to adjust these complications! But
+here, too, fortune had dealt maliciously. What a piece of cross-grained
+luck that Longcluse should have chosen to fall in love with Alice! And
+now they two had exchanged, not shots, but insults, harder to forgive.
+And that officious fool, Vandeleur, had laid him open to a more direct
+and humiliating affront than had before befallen him. Henceforward,
+between him and Longcluse no reconciliation was possible. Fiery and
+proud by nature was this Richard Arden, and resentful. In Yorkshire the
+family had been accounted a vindictive race. I don't know. I have only
+to do with those inheritors of the name who figure in this story.
+
+There remained an able accountant and influential man on 'Change, on
+whose services he might implicitly reckon--his uncle, David Arden. But
+he was separated from him by the undefinable chasm of years--the want of
+sympathy, the sense of authority. He would take not only the management
+of this financial adjustment, but the carriage of the future of this
+young, handsome, full-blooded fellow, who had certainly no wish to take
+unto himself a Mentor.
+
+Here have been projected on this page, as in the disk of an oxy-hydrogen
+microscope, some of the small and active thoughts that swarmed almost
+unsuspected in Richard Arden's mind. But it would be injustice to Sir
+Richard Arden (we may as well let him enjoy at once the title which
+stately Death has just presented him with--it seems to me a mocking
+obeisance) to pretend that higher and kinder feelings had no place in
+his heart.
+
+Suddenly redeemed from ruin, suddenly shocked by an awful spectacle, a
+disturbance of old associations where there had once been kindness,
+where estrangements and enmity had succeeded: there was in all this
+something moving and agitating, that stirred his affections strangely
+when he saw his sister.
+
+David Arden had left his house an hour before the news reached its
+inmates. Sir Richard was shown to the drawing-room, where there was no
+one to receive him; and in a minute Alice, looking very pale and
+miserable, entered, and running up to him, without saying a word threw
+her arms about his neck, and sobbed piteously.
+
+Her brother was moved. He folded her to his heart. Broken and hurried
+words of tenderness and affection he spoke, as he kissed her again and
+again. Henceforward he would live a better and wiser life. He had tasted
+the dangers and miseries that attend on play. He swore he would give it
+up. He had done with the follies of his youth. But for years he had not
+had a home. He was thrown into the thick of temptation. A fellow who had
+no home was so likely to amuse himself with play; and he had suffered
+enough to make him hate it, and she should see what a brother he would
+be, henceforward, to her.
+
+Alice's heart was bursting with self-reproach; she told Richard the
+whole story of her trouble of the day before, and the circumstances of
+her departure from Mortlake, all in an agony of tears; and declared, as
+young ladies often have done before, that she never could be happy
+again.
+
+He was disappointed, but generous and gentle feelings had been stirred
+within him.
+
+"Don't reproach yourself, darling; that is mere folly. The entire
+responsibility of your leaving Mortlake belongs to my uncle; and about
+Wynderbroke, you must not torment yourself; you had a right to a voice
+in the matter, surely, and I daresay you would not be happier now if you
+had been less decided, and found yourself at this moment committed to
+marry him. I have more reason to upbraid myself, but I'm sure I was
+right, though I sometimes lost my temper; I know my Uncle David thinks I
+was right; but there is no use now in thinking more about it; right or
+wrong, it is all over, and I won't distract myself uselessly. I'll try
+to be a better brother to you than I ever _have_ been; and I'll make
+Mortlake our head-quarters: or we'll live, if you like it better, at
+Arden Manor, or I'll go abroad with you. I'll lay myself out to make you
+happy. One thing I'm resolved on, and that is to give up play, and find
+some manly and useful pursuit; and you'll see I'll do you some credit
+yet, or at least, as a country squire, do some little good, and be not
+quite useless in my generation; and I'll do my best, dear Alice, to make
+you a happy home, and to be all that I ought to be to you, my darling."
+
+Very affectionately he both spoke and felt, and left Alice with some of
+her anxieties lightened, and already more interest in the future than
+she had thought possible an hour before.
+
+Richard Arden had a good deal upon his hands that morning. He had money
+liabilities that were urgent. He had to catch his friend Mardykes at his
+lodgings, and get him to see the people in whose betting-books he stood
+for large figures, to represent to them what had happened, and assure
+them that a few days should see all settled. Then he had to go to the
+office of his father's attorney, and learn whether a will was
+forthcoming; then to consult with his own attorney, and finally to
+follow his uncle, David Arden, from place to place, and find him at last
+at home, and talk over details, and advise with him generally about many
+things, but particularly about the further dispositions respecting the
+funeral; for a little note from his Uncle David had offered to relieve
+him of the direction of those hateful details transacted with the
+undertaker, which every one is glad to depute.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER L.
+
+UNCLE DAVID'S SUSPICIONS.
+
+
+Mr. David Arden, therefore, had made a call at the office of Paller,
+Crapely, Plumes, and Co., eminent undertakers in the most
+gentleman-like, and, indeed, aristocratic line of business, with immense
+resources at command, and who would undertake to bury a duke, with all
+the necessary draperies, properties, and _dramatis personae_, if
+required, before his grace was cold in his bed.
+
+A little dialogue occurred here, which highly interested Uncle David. A
+stout gentleman, with a muddy and melancholy countenance, and a sad
+suavity of manner, and in the perennial mourning that belongs to
+gentlemen of his doleful profession, presents himself to David Arden, to
+receive his instructions respecting the deceased baronet's obsequies.
+The top of his head is bald, his face is furrowed and baggy; he looks
+fully sixty-five, and he announces himself as the junior partner, Plumes
+by name.
+
+Having made his suggestions and his notes, and taken his order for a
+strictly private funeral in the neighbourhood of London, Mr. Plumes
+thoughtfully observes that he remembers the name well, having been
+similarly employed for another member of the same family.
+
+"Ah! How was that? How long ago?" asked Mr. Arden.
+
+"About twenty years, Sir."
+
+"And where was that funeral?"
+
+"The same place, Sir, Mortlake."
+
+"Yes, I know that was----?"
+
+"It was Mr. 'Enry, or rayther 'Arry Harden. We 'ad to take back the
+plate, Sir, and change 'Enry to 'Arry--'Arry being the name he was
+baptised by. There was a hinquest connected with that horder."
+
+"So there was, Mr. Plumes," said Uncle David with awakened interest, for
+that gentleman spoke as if he had something more to say on the subject.
+
+"There was, Sir,--and it affected me very sensibly. My niece, Sir, had a
+wery narrow escape."
+
+"Your niece! Really? How could that be?"
+
+"There was a Mister Yelland Mace, Sir, who paid his haddresses to her,
+and I do believe, Sir, she rayther liked him. I don't know, I'm sure,
+whether he was serious in 'is haddresses, but it looked very like as if
+he meant to speak; though I do suppose he was looking 'igher for a wife.
+Well, he was believed to 'ave 'ad an 'and in that 'orrible business."
+
+"I know--so he undoubtably had--and the poor young lady, I suppose, was
+greatly shocked and distressed."
+
+"Yes, Sir, and she died about a year after."
+
+David Arden expressed his regret, and then he asked--
+
+"You have often seen that man, Yelland Mace?"
+
+"Not often, Sir."
+
+"You remember his face pretty well, I daresay?"
+
+"Well, no, Sir, not very well. It is a long time."
+
+"Do you recollect whether there was anything noticeable in his
+features?--had he, for instance, a remarkably prominent nose?"
+
+"I don't remember that he 'ad, Sir. I rather think not, but I can't by
+no means say for certain. It is a long time, and I 'aven't much of a
+memory for faces. There is a likeness of him among my poor niece's
+letters."
+
+"Really? I should be so much obliged if you would allow me to see it."
+
+"It is at 'ome, Sir, but I shall be 'ome to dinner before I go out to
+Mortlake; and, if you please, I shall borrow it of my sister, and take
+it with me."
+
+This offer David Arden gladly accepted.
+
+When the events were recent, he could have no difficulty in identifying
+Yelland Mace, by the evidence of fifty witnesses, if necessary. But it
+was another thing now. The lapse of time had made matters very
+different. It was recent impressions of a vague kind about Mr. Longcluse
+that had revived the idea, and prompted a renewal of the search. Martha
+Tansey was aged now, and he had misgivings about the accuracy of her
+recollection. Was it possible, after all, that he was about to see that
+which would corroborate his first vague suspicions?
+
+Sir Richard had a busy and rather harassing day, the first of his
+succession to an old title and a new authority, and he was not sorry
+when it closed. He had stolen about from place to place in a hired cab,
+and leaned back to avoid a chance recognition, like an absconding
+debtor; and had talked with the people whom he was obliged to call on
+and see, in low and hurried colloquy, through the window of the cab. And
+now night had fallen, the lamps were glaring, and tired enough he
+returned to his lodgings, sent for his tailor, and arranged promptly
+about the
+
+    "----inky cloak, good mother,
+     And customary suits of solemn black;"
+
+and that done, he wrote two or three notes to kindred in Yorkshire, with
+whom it behoved him to stand on good terms; and then he determined to
+drive out to Mortlake Hall. An unpleasant mixture of feelings was in his
+mind as he thought of that visit, and the cold tenant of the ancestral
+house, whom in the grim dignity of death, it would not have been seemly
+to leave for a whole day and night unvisited. It was to him a repulsive
+visit, but how could he postpone it?
+
+Behold him, then, leaning back in his cab, and driving through glaring
+lamps, and dingy shops, and narrow ill-thriven streets, eastward and
+northward; and now, through the little antique village, with trembling
+lights, and by the faded splendours of the "Guy of Warwick." And he sat
+up and looked out of the windows, as they entered the narrow road that
+is darkened by the tall overhanging timber of Mortlake grounds.
+
+Now they are driving up the broad avenue, with its noble old trees
+clumped at either side; and with a shudder Sir Richard Arden leans back
+and moves no more until the cab pulls up at the door-steps, and the
+knock sounds through hall and passages, which he dared not so have
+disturbed, uninvited, a day or two before. Crozier ran down the steps to
+greet Master Richard.
+
+"How are you, old Crozier?" he said, shaking hands from the cab-window,
+for somehow he liked to postpone entering the house as long as he could.
+"I could not come earlier. I have been detained in town all day by
+business, of various kinds, connected with this." And he moved his hand
+toward the open hall-door, with a gloomy nod or two. "How is Martha?"
+
+"Tolerable, Sir, thankye, considerin'. It's a great upset to her."
+
+"Yes, poor thing, of course. And has Mr. Paller been here--the person
+who is to--to----"
+
+"The undertaker? Yes, Sir, he was here at two o'clock, and some of the
+people has been busy in the room, and his men has come out again with
+the coffin, Sir. I think they'll soon be leaving; they've been here a
+quarter of an hour, and--if I may make bold to ask, Sir,--what day will
+the funeral be?"
+
+"I don't know myself, Crozier; I must settle that with my uncle. He said
+he thought he would come here himself this evening, at about nine, and
+it must be very near that now. Where is Martha?"
+
+"In her room, Sir, I think."
+
+"I won't see her there. Ask her to come to the oak-room."
+
+Richard got out and entered the house of which he was now the master,
+with an oppressive misgiving.
+
+The oak-parlour was a fine old room, and into the panels were set four
+full-length portraits. Two of these were a lady and gentleman, in the
+costume of the beginning of Charles the Second's reign. The lady held an
+Italian greyhound by a blue ribbon, and the gentleman stood booted for
+the field, and falcon on fist. It struck Richard, for the first time,
+how wonderfully like Alice that portrait of the beautiful lady was. He
+raised the candle to examine it. There was a story about this lady. She
+had been compelled to marry the companion portrait, with the hawk on his
+hand, and those beautiful lips had dropped a curse, in her despair, when
+she was dying, childless, and wild with grief. She prayed that no
+daughter of the house of Arden might ever wed the man of her love, and
+it was said that a fatality had pursued the ladies of that family, which
+looked like the accomplishment of the malediction; and a great deal of
+curious family lore was connected with this legend and portrait.
+
+As he held the candle up to this picture, still scanning its features,
+the door slowly opened, and Martha Tansey, arrayed in a black silk dress
+of a fashion some twenty years out of date, came in. He set down the
+candle, and took the old woman's hand, and greeted her very kindly.
+
+"How's a' wi' you, Master Richard? A dowly house ye've come too. Ye
+didna look to see this sa soon?"
+
+"Very sudden, Martha--awfully sudden. I could not let the day pass
+without coming out to see you."
+
+"Not me, Master Richard, but to ha'e a last look at the face of the
+father that begot ye. He'll be shrouded and coffined by this time--the
+light 'ill not be lang on that face. The lid will be aboon it and
+screwed down to-morrow, I dar' say. Ay, there goes the undertaker's men;
+and there's a man from Mr. Paller--Mr. Plumes is his name--that says
+he'll stay till your Uncle David comes, for he told him he had something
+very particular to say to him; and I desired him to wait in my room
+after his business about the poor master was over; and the a'ad things
+is passin' awa' and it's time auld Martha was fittin' herself."
+
+"Don't say that, Martha, unless you would have me think you expect to
+find me less kind than my father was."
+
+"There's good and there's bad in every one, Master Richard. Ye can't
+take it in meal and take it in malt. A bit short-waisted he was, there's
+no denyin', and a sharp word now and again; but none so hard to live wi'
+as many a one that was cooler-tempered, and more mealy-mouthed; and I
+think ye were o'er hard wi' him, Master Richard. Ye should have opened
+the estate. It was that killed him," she continued considerately. "Ye
+broke his heart, Master Richard; he was never the same man after he fell
+out wi' you."
+
+"Some day, Martha, you'll learn all about it," said he gently. "It was
+no fault of mine--ask my Uncle David. I'm not the person to persuade
+you; and, beside, I have not courage to talk over that cruel quarrel
+now."
+
+"Come and see him," said the old woman grimly, taking up the candle.
+
+"No, Martha, no; set it down again--I'll not go."
+
+"And when will you see him?"
+
+"Another time--not now--I can't."
+
+"He's laid in his coffin now; they'll be out again in the mornin'. If
+you don't see him now, ye'll never see him; and what will the folk down
+in Yorkshire say, when it's told at Arden Court that Master Richard
+never looked on his dead father's face, nor saw more of him after his
+flittin' than the plate on his coffin. By Jen! 'twill stir the blood o'
+the old tenants and gar them clench their fists and swear, I warrant, at
+the very sound o' yer name; for there never was an Arden died yet, at
+Arden Court, but he was waked, and treated wi' every respect, and
+visited by every living soul of his kindred, for ten mile round."
+
+"If you think so, Martha, say no more. I'll--go as well now as another
+time--and, as you say, sooner or later it must be done."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER LI.
+
+THE SILHOUETTE.
+
+
+"He's lookin' very nice and like himself," mumbled the old woman, as she
+led the way.
+
+At the open door of Sir Reginald's room stood Mr. Plumes, in
+professional black with a pensive and solemn countenance, intending
+politely to do the honours.
+
+"Thank you, Sir," said the old woman graciously, taking the lead in the
+proceedings. "This is the young master, and he won't mind troublin' you,
+Mr. Plumes. If you please to go to my room, Sir, the third door on the
+right, you'll find tea made, Sir; and Mr. Crozier, I think, will be
+there."
+
+And having thus disposed of the stranger, they entered the room, in
+which candles were burning.
+
+Sir Reginald had, as it were, already made dispositions for his final
+journey. He had left his bed, and lay instead, in the handsomely
+upholstered coffin which stood on tressels beside it. Thin and fixed
+were the cold, earthly features that looked upward from their white
+trimmings. Sir Richard Arden checked his step and held his breath as he
+came in sight of these stern lineaments. The pale light that surrounds
+the dead face of the martyr was wanting here: in its stead, upon selfish
+lines and contracted features, a shadow stood.
+
+Mrs. Tansey, with a feather-brush placed near, drove away a fly that was
+trying to alight on the still face.
+
+"I mind him when he was a boy," she said, with a groan and a shake of
+the head. "There was but six years between us, and the life that's ended
+is but a dream, all like yesterday--nothing to look back on; and, I'm
+sure, if there's rest for them that has been troubled on earth, he's
+happy now: a blessed change 'twill be."
+
+"Yes, Martha, we all have our troubles."
+
+"Ay, it's well to know that in time: the young seldom does," she
+answered sardonically.
+
+"I'll go, Martha. I'll return to the oak-room. I wish my uncle were
+come."
+
+"Well, you have took your last look, and that's but decent, and---- Dear
+me, Master Richard, you do look bad!"
+
+"I feel a little faint, Martha. I'll go there; and will you give me a
+glass of sherry?"
+
+He waited at the room door, while Martha nimbly ran to her room, and
+returned with some sherry and a wine-glass. He had hardly taken a glass,
+and begun to feel himself better, when David Arden's step was heard
+approaching from the hall. He greeted his nephew and Martha in a hushed
+undertone, as he might in church; and then, as people will enter such
+rooms, he passed in and crossed with a very soft tread, and said a word
+or two in whispers. You would have thought that Sir Reginald was tasting
+the sweet slumber of precarious convalescence, so tremendously does
+death simulate sleep.
+
+When Uncle David followed his nephew to the oak-room, where the servants
+had now placed candles, he appeared a little paler, as a man might who
+had just witnessed an operation. He looked through the unclosed shutters
+on the dark scene; then he turned, and placed his hand kindly on his
+nephew's arm, and said he, with a sigh--
+
+"Well, Dick, you're the head of the house now; don't run the old ship on
+the rocks. Remember, it is an old name, and, above all, remember, that
+Alice is thrown upon your protection. Be a good brother, Dick. She is a
+true-hearted, affectionate creature: be you the same to her. You can't
+do your duty by her unless you do it also by yourself. For the first
+time in your life, a momentous responsibility devolves upon you. In
+God's name, Dick, give up play and do your duty!"
+
+"I have learned a lesson, uncle; I have not suffered in vain. I'll never
+take a dice-box in my hand again; I'd as soon take a burning coal. I
+shall never back a horse again while I live. I am quite cured, thank
+God, of that madness. I sha'n't talk about it; let time declare how I am
+changed."
+
+"I am glad to hear you speak so. You are right, that is the true test.
+Spoken like a man!" said Uncle David, and he took his hand very kindly.
+
+The entrance of Martha Tansey at this moment gave the talk a new turn.
+
+"By-the-bye, Martha," said he, "has Mr. Plumes come? He said he would be
+here at eight o'clock."
+
+"He's waitin', Sir; and 'twas to tell you so I came in. Shall I tell him
+to come here?"
+
+"I asked him to come, Dick; I knew you would allow me. He has some
+information to give me respecting the wretch who murdered your poor
+Uncle Harry."
+
+"May I remain?" asked Richard.
+
+"Do; certainly."
+
+"Then, Martha, will you tell him to come here?" said Richard, and in
+another minute the sable garments and melancholy visage of Mr. Plumes
+entered the room slowly.
+
+When Mr. Plumes was seated, he said, with much deliberation, in reply to
+Uncle David's question--
+
+"Yes, Sir, I have brought it with me. You said, I think, you wished me
+to fetch it, and as my sister was at home, she hobleeged me with a loan
+of it. It belonged, you may remember, to her deceased daughter--my
+niece. I have got it in my breast-pocket; perhaps you would wish me now
+to take it hout?"
+
+"I'm most anxious to look at it," said Uncle David, approaching with
+extended hand. "You said you had seen him; was this a good likeness?"
+
+These questions and the answers to them occupied the time during which
+Mr. Plumes, whose proceedings were slow as a funeral, disengaged the
+square parcel in question from his pocket, and then went on to loosen
+the knots in the tape which tied it up, and afterwards to unfold the
+wrappings of paper which enveloped it.
+
+"I don't remember him well enough, only that he was good-looking. And
+this was took by machinery, and it _must_ be like. The ball and socket
+they called it. It must be hexact, Sir."
+
+So saying, he produced a square black leather case, which being opened
+displayed a black profile, the hair and whiskers being indicated by a
+sort of gilding which, laid upon sable, reminded one of the decorations
+of a coffin, and harmonised cheerfully with Mr. Plumes' profession.
+
+"Oh!" exclaimed Uncle David with considerable disappointment, "I thought
+it was a miniature; this is only a silhouette; but you are sure it _is_
+the profile of Yelland Mace?"
+
+"That is certain, Sir. His name is on the back of it, and she kept it,
+poor young woman! with a lock of his 'air and some hother relics in her
+work-box."
+
+By this time Uncle David was examining it with deep interest. The
+outline demolished all his fancies about Mr. Longcluse. The nose, though
+delicately formed, was decidedly the ruling feature of the face. It was
+rather a parrot face, but with a good forehead. David Arden was
+disappointed. He handed it to his nephew.
+
+"That is a kind of face one would easily remember," he observed to
+Richard as he looked. "It is not like any one that I know, or _ever_
+knew."
+
+"No," said Richard; "I don't recollect any one the least like it." And
+he replaced it in his uncle's hand.
+
+"We are very much obliged to you, Mr. Plumes; it was your mention of it
+this morning, and my great anxiety to discover all I can respecting that
+man, Yelland Mace, that induced me to make the request. Thank you very
+much," said old Mr. Arden, placing the profile in the fat fingers of Mr.
+Plumes. "You must take a glass of sherry before you leave. And have you
+got a cab to return in?"
+
+"The men are waiting for me, I thank you, and I have just 'ad my tea,
+Sir, much obleeged, and I think I had best return to town, gentlemen, as
+I have some few words to say to-night to our Mr. Trimmer; so, with your
+leave, gentlemen, I'll wish you good-night."
+
+And with a solemn bow, first to Mr. Arden, then to the young scion of
+the house, and lastly a general bow to both, that grave gentleman
+withdrew.
+
+"I could see no likeness in that thing to any one," repeated old Mr.
+Arden. "Mr. Longcluse is a friend of yours?" he added a little abruptly.
+
+"I can't say he was a friend; he was an acquaintance, but even that is
+quite ended."
+
+"What! you don't know him any longer?"
+
+"No."
+
+"You're quite sure!"
+
+"Perfectly."
+
+"Then I may say I'm very glad. I don't like him, and I can't say why;
+but I can't help connecting him with your poor uncle's death. I must
+have dreamed about him and forgot the dream, while the impression
+continues; for I cannot discover in any fact within my knowledge the
+slightest justification for the unpleasant persuasion that constantly
+returns to my mind. I could not trace a likeness to him in that
+silhouette."
+
+He looked at his nephew, who returned his steady look with one of utter
+surprise.
+
+"Oh, dear! no. There is not a vestige of a resemblance," said Richard.
+"I know his features very well."
+
+"No," said Uncle David, lowering his eyes to the table, on which he was
+tapping gently with his fingers; "no, there certainly is not--not any.
+But I can't dismiss the suspicion. I can't get it out of my head,
+Richard, and yet I can't account for it," he said, raising his eyes to
+his nephew's. "There is something in it; I could not else be so
+haunted."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER LII.
+
+MR. LONGCLUSE EMPLOYED.
+
+
+The funeral was not to be for some days, and then to be conducted in the
+quietest manner possible. Sir Reginald was to be buried in a small vault
+under the little church, whose steeple cast its shadow every sunny
+evening across the garden-hedges of the "Guy of Warwick," and could be
+seen to the left from the door of Mortlake Hall, among distant trees.
+Further it was settled by Richard Arden and his uncle, on putting their
+heads together, that the funeral was to take place after dark in the
+evening; and even the undertaker's people were kept in ignorance of the
+exact day and hour.
+
+In the meantime, Mr. Longcluse did not trouble any member of the family
+with his condolences or inquiries. As a raven perched on a solitary
+bough surveys the country round, and observes many things--very little
+noticed himself--so Mr. Longcluse made his observations from his own
+perch and in his own way. Perhaps he was a little surprised on receiving
+from Lady May Penrose a note, in the following terms:--
+
+    "DEAR MR. LONGCLUSE,
+
+    "I have just heard something that troubles me; and as I know of no
+    one who would more readily do me a kindness, I hope you won't think
+    me very troublesome if I beg of you to make me a call to-morrow
+    morning, at any time before twelve.
+
+    "Ever yours sincerely,
+    "MAY PENROSE."
+
+Mr. Longcluse smiled darkly, as he read this note again. "It is better
+to be sought after than to offer one's self."
+
+Accordingly, next morning, Mr. Longcluse presented himself in Lady May's
+drawing-room; and after a little waiting, that good-natured lady entered
+the room. She liked to make herself miserable about the troubles of her
+friends, and on this occasion, on entering the door, she lifted her
+hands and eyes, and quickened her step towards Mr. Longcluse, who
+advanced a step or two to meet her.
+
+"Oh! Mr. Longcluse, it is so kind of you to come," she exclaimed; "I am
+in such a sea of troubles! and you are such a friend, I know I may tell
+you. You have heard, of course, of poor Reginald's death. How horribly
+sudden!--shocking! and dear Alice is so broken by it! He had been, the
+day before, so cross--poor Reginald, everybody knows he had a temper,
+poor old soul!--and had made himself so disagreeable to her, and now she
+is quite miserable, as if it had been her fault. But no matter; it's not
+about that. Only do you happen to know of people--bankers or
+something--called Childers and Ballard?"
+
+"Oh! dear, yes; Childers and Ballard; they are City people, on
+'Change--stockbrokers. They are people you can quite rely on, so far as
+their solvency is concerned."
+
+"Oh! it isn't that. They have not been doing any business for me. It is
+a very unpleasant thing to speak about, even to a kind friend like you;
+but I want you to advise what is best to be done; and to ask you, if it
+is not very unreasonable, to use any influence you can--without trouble,
+of course, I mean--to prevent anything so distressing as may possibly
+happen."
+
+"You have only to say, dear Lady May, what I can do. I am too happy to
+place my poor services at your disposal."
+
+"I knew you would say so," said Lady May, again shaking hands in a very
+friendly way; "and I know what I say won't go any further. I mean, of
+course, that you will receive it entirely as a confidence."
+
+Mr. Longcluse was earnest in his assurances of secresy and good faith.
+
+"Well," said Lady May, lowering her voice, "poor Reginald, he was my
+cousin, you know, so it pains me to say it; but he was a good deal
+embarrassed; his estates were very much in debt. He owed money to a
+great many people, I believe."
+
+"Oh! Really?" Mr. Longcluse expressed his well-bred surprise very
+creditably.
+
+"Yes, indeed; and these people, Childers and Ballard, have something
+they call a judgment, I think. It is a kind of debt, for about twelve
+hundred pounds, which they say must be paid at once; and they vow that
+if it is not they will seize the coffin, and--and--all that, at the
+funeral. And David Arden is so angry, you can't think! and he says that
+the money is not owed to them, and that they have no right by law to do
+any such thing; and that from beginning to end it is a mere piece of
+extortion. And he won't hear of Richard's paying a farthing of it; and
+he says that Richard must bring a law-suit against them, for ever so
+much money, if they attempt anything of the kind, and that he's sure to
+win. But that is not what I am thinking of--it is about poor Alice, she
+is so miserable about the mere chance of its happening. The
+profanation--the fracas--all so shocking and so public--the funeral, you
+know."
+
+"You are quite sure of that, Lady May?" said Longcluse.
+
+"I heard it all as I tell you. My man of business told me; and I saw
+David Arden," she answered.
+
+"Oh! yes; but I mean, with respect to Miss Arden. Does _she_, in
+particular, so very earnestly desire intervention in this awkward
+business?"
+
+"Certainly; _only_ she--only Miss Arden--only Alice."
+
+He looked down in thought, and then again in her face, paler than usual.
+He had made up his mind.
+
+"I shall take measures," he said quietly. "I shall do everything--anything
+in my power. I shall even expose myself to the risk of insult,
+for her sake; only let it soften her. After I have done it,
+ask her, not before, to think mercifully of me."
+
+He was going.
+
+"Stay, Mr. Longcluse, just a moment. I don't know what I am to say to
+you; I am so much obliged. And yet how can I undertake that anything you
+do may affect other people as you wish?"
+
+"Yes, of course you are right; I am willing to take my chance of that.
+Only, dear Lady May, will you _write_ to her? All I plead for--and it is
+the _last_ time I shall sue to her for anything--is that my folly may be
+forgotten, and I restored to the humble privileges of an acquaintance."
+
+"But do you really wish me to write? I'll take an opportunity of
+speaking to her. Would not that be less formal?"
+
+"Perhaps so; but, forgive me, it would not answer. I beg of you to
+write."
+
+"But why do you prefer my writing?"
+
+"Because I shall then read her answer."
+
+"Then I must tell her that you are to read her reply."
+
+"Certainly, dear Lady May; I meant nothing else."
+
+"Well, Mr. Longcluse, there is no great difficulty."
+
+"I only make it a request, not a condition. I shall do my utmost in any
+case. Pray tell her that."
+
+"Yes, I'll write to her, as you wish it; or, at least, I'll ask her to
+put on paper what she desires me to say, and I'll read it to you."
+
+"That will answer as well. How can I thank you?"
+
+"There is no need of thanks. It is I who should thank you for taking, I
+am afraid, a great deal of trouble so promptly and kindly."
+
+"I know those people; they are cunning and violent, difficult to deal
+with, harder to trust," said Longcluse, looking down in thought. "I
+should be most happy to settle with them, and afterwards the executor
+might settle with me at his convenience; but, from what you say, Mr.
+David Arden and his nephew won't admit their claim. I don't believe such
+a seizure would be legal; but they are people who frequently venture
+illegal measures, upon the calculation that it would embarrass those
+against whom they adopt them more than themselves to bring them into
+court. It is not an easy card to play, you see, and they are people I
+hate; but I'll try."
+
+In another minute Mr. Longcluse had taken his leave, and was gone.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER LIII.
+
+THE NIGHT OF THE FUNERAL.
+
+
+Mr. Longcluse smiled as he sat in his cab, driving City-ward to the
+office of Messrs. Childers and Ballard.
+
+"How easily, now, one might get up a scene! Let Ballard, the monster--he
+would look the part well--with his bailiffs, seize the coffin and its
+precious burden in the church; and I, like Sir Edward Maulay, step forth
+from behind a pillar to stay the catastrophe. We could make a very fine
+situation, and I the hero; but the girl is too clever for that, and
+Richard as sharp--that is, as base--as I; knowing my objects, he would
+at once see a _plant_, and all would be spoiled. I shall do it in the
+least picturesque and most probable way. I should like to know the old
+housekeeper, Mrs. Tansey, better; I should like to be on good terms with
+her. An awkward meeting with Arden. What the devil do I care? besides,
+it is but one chance in a hundred. Yes, that is the best way. Can I see
+Mr. Ballard in his private room for a minute?" he added aloud, to the
+clerk, Mr. Blotter, behind the mahogany counter, who turned from his
+desk deferentially, let himself down from his stool, and stood attentive
+before the great man, with his pen behind his ear.
+
+"Certainly, Mr. Longcluse--certainly, Sir. Will you allow me, Sir, to
+conduct you?"
+
+Most men would have been peremptorily denied; the more fortunate would
+have had to await the result of an application to Mr. Ballard; but to
+Mr. Longcluse all doors flew open, and wherever he went, like
+Mephistopheles, the witches received him gaily, and the cat-apes did him
+homage.
+
+Without waiting for the assistance of Mr. Blotter, he ran up the
+back-stairs familiarly to see Mr. Ballard; and when Mr. Longcluse came
+down, looking very grave, Mr. Ballard, with the red face and lowering
+countenance which he could not put off, accompanied him down-stairs
+deferentially, and held open the office-door for him; and could not
+suppress his grins for some time in the consciousness of the honour he
+had received. Mr. Ballard hoped that the people over the way had seen
+Mr. Longcluse step from his door; and mentioned to everyone he talked to
+for a week, that he had Mr. Longcluse in his private office in
+consultation--first it was "for a quarter of an hour by the clock over
+the chimney," speedily it grew to "half-an-hour," and finally to
+"upwards of an hour, by----," with a stare in the face of the wondering,
+or curious, listener. And when clients looked in, in the course of the
+day, to consult him, he would say, with a wag of his head and a little
+looseness about minutes, "There was a man sitting here a minute ago, Mr.
+Longcluse--you may have met him as you came up the stairs--that could
+have given us a wrinkle about that;" or, "Longcluse, who was here
+consulting with me this morning, is clearly of opinion that Italian
+bonds will be down a quarter by settling day;" or, "Take my advice, and
+don't burn your fingers with those things, for it is possible something
+queer may happen any day after Wednesday. I had Longcluse--I daresay you
+may have heard of him," he parenthesised jocularly--"sitting in that
+chair to-day for very nearly an hour and a half, and that's a fellow one
+doesn't sit long with without hearing something worth remembering."
+
+From the attorney of Sir Richard Arden was served upon Messrs. Childers
+and Ballard, that day, a cautionary notice in very stern terms
+respecting their threatened attack upon Sir Reginald's funeral
+appointments and body; to which they replied in terms as sharp, and
+fixed three o'clock for payment of the bond.
+
+It was a very short mile from Mortlake to that small old church near the
+"Guy of Warwick," the bit of whose grey spire and the pinnacle of whose
+weather-cock you could see between the two great clumps of elms to the
+left. Sir Reginald, feet foremost, was to make this little journey that
+evening under a grove of black plumes, to the small, quiet room, which
+he was henceforward to share with his ancestor Sir Hugh Arden, of
+Mortlake Hall, Baronet, whose pillard monument decorated the little
+church.
+
+He lies now, soldered up and screwed down, in his strait bed, triply
+secured in lead, mahogany, and oak, and as safe as "the old woman of
+Berkeley" hoped to be from the grip of marauders. Once there, and the
+stone door replaced and mortared in, the irritable old gentleman might
+sleep the quietest sleep his body had ever enjoyed, to the crack of
+doom. The space was short, too, which separated that from the bed-room
+he was leaving; but the interval was "Jew's ground," trespassing on
+which, it was thought, he ran a great risk of being clutched by frantic
+creditors. A whisper of the danger had got into the housekeeper's room;
+and Crozier, whose north-country blood was hot, and temper warlike, had
+loaded the horse-pistols, and swore that he would shoot the first man
+who laid a hand unfriendly on the old master's coffin.
+
+There was an agitation simmering under the grim formalities and tip-toe
+treadings of the house of death. Martha Tansey grew frightened, angry as
+she was, and told Richard Arden that Crozier was "neither to hold nor to
+bind, and meant to walk by the hearse, and stand by the coffin till it
+was shut into the vault, with loaded pistols in his coat-pockets, and
+would make food for worms so sure as they villains dar'd to interrupt
+the funeral."
+
+Whereupon Richard saw Crozier, took the pistols from him, shook him very
+hard by the hand, for he liked him all the more, and told him that he
+would desire nothing better than their attempting to accomplish their
+threats, as he was well advised the law would make examples of them.
+Then he went up-stairs, and saw Alice, and he could not help thinking
+how her black crapes became her. He kissed her, and, sitting down beside
+her, said,--
+
+"Martha Tansey says, darling, that you are unhappy about something she
+has been telling you concerning this miserable funeral. She ought not to
+have alarmed you about it. If I had known that you were frightened, or,
+in fact, knew anything about it, I should have made a point of coming
+out here yesterday, although I had fifty things to do."
+
+"I had a very good-natured note to-day, Dick, from Lady May," she
+said--"only a word, but very kindly intended." And she placed the open
+note in his fingers. When he had read it, Richard dropped the note on
+the table with a sneer.
+
+"That man, I suspect, is himself the secret promoter of this outrage--a
+very inexpensive way, this, of making character with Lady May, and
+placing you under an obligation--the scoundrel!"
+
+Looks and language of hatred are not very pretty at any time, but in the
+atmosphere of death they acquire a character of horror. Some momentary
+disturbance of this kind Richard may have seen in his sister's pale
+face, for he said,--
+
+"Don't mind what I say about that fellow, for I have no patience with
+myself for having ever known him."
+
+"I am so glad, Dick, you have dropped _that_ acquaintance!" said the
+young lady.
+
+"You have come at last to think as I do," said Richard.
+
+"It is not so much thinking as something different; the uncertainty
+about him--the appalling stories you have heard--and, oh! Richard, I had
+such a dream last night! I dreamt that Mr. Longcluse murdered you. You
+smile, but I could not have imagined anything that was not real, so
+vivid, and it was in this room, and--I don't know how, for I forget the
+beginning of it--the candles went out, and you were standing near the
+door talking to me, and bright moonlight was at the window, and showed
+you quite distinctly, and the open door; and Mr. Longcluse came from
+behind it with a pistol, and I tried to scream, but I couldn't. But you
+turned about and stabbed at him with a knife or something; it shone in
+the moonlight, and instantly there was a line of blood across his face;
+he fired, and I saw you fall back on the floor; I knew you were dead,
+and I awoke in terror. I thought I still saw his wicked face in the
+dark, quite white as it was in my dream. I screamed, and thought I was
+going mad."
+
+"It is only, darling, that all that has happened has made you nervous,
+and no wonder. Don't mind your dreams. Longcluse and I will never
+exchange a word more. We have turned our backs on one another, and our
+paths lie in very different directions."
+
+This was a melancholy and grizzly evening at Mortlake Hall. The
+undertakers were making some final and mysterious arrangements about the
+coffin, and stole in and out of the dead baronet's room, of which they
+had taken possession.
+
+Martha Tansey was alone in her room. It was a lurid sunset. Immense
+masses of black cloud were piled in the west, and from a long opening in
+that sombre screen, near the horizon, the expiring light glared like the
+red fire at night, through the clink of a smithy. Mrs. Tansey, dressed
+in deepest mourning, awaited the hour when she was to accompany the
+funeral of her old master.
+
+Without succumbing to the threat of Messrs. Childers and Ballard, David
+Arden and his nephew would have been glad to evade the risk of the
+fracas, which would no doubt have been a dismal scandal. Martha Tansey
+herself was not quite sure at what hour the funeral was to leave
+Mortlake. Opposite the window from which she looked, stand groups of
+gigantic elms that darken that side of the house, and underwood forms a
+thick screen among their trunks. Upon the edges of this foliage glinted
+that fierce farewell gleam, and among the glimmering leaves behind she
+thought she saw the sinister face of Mr. Longcluse looking toward her.
+Her fear and horror of Longcluse had increased, and if the very
+remembrance of him visited her with a sudden qualm, you may be sure that
+the sight of him, on this melancholy evening, was a shock. Alice's wild
+dream, which she had recounted to her, did not serve to dissociate him
+from the vague misgivings that his image called up. She stared aghast at
+the apparition--itself uncertain--while in the deep shadow, with a
+foreground of fiercely flashing leaves, had on a sudden looked at her,
+and before she could utter an exclamation it was gone.
+
+"I think it is my old eyes that plays me tricks, and my weary head
+that's 'wildered wi' all this dowly jummlement! What sud bring him
+there? It was never him I sid, only a fancy, and it's past and gone; and
+so, in the name of God, be it now, and ever, amen! For an evil sight it
+is, and bodes us no good. Who's there?"
+
+"It's me, Mrs. Tansey," said Crozier, who had just come in. "Master
+Richard desired me to tell you it is to be at ten o'clock to-night. He
+and Mr. David thinks that best, and you're to please not to mention it
+to no one."
+
+"Ten o'clock! That's very late, ain't it? No, surely, I'll not blab to
+no one; let him tell them when he sees fit. Martha Tansey's na that
+sort; she has had mony a secret to keep, and always the confidence o'
+the family, and 'twould be queer if she did not know to ho'd her tongue
+by this time. Sit ye down, Mr. Crozier--ye're wore off yer feet, man,
+like myself, ever since this happened--and rest a bit; the kettle's
+boilin', and ye'll tak' a cup o' tea. It's hours yet to ten o'clock."
+
+So Mr. Crozier, who was in truth a tired man, complied, and took his
+seat by the fire, and talked over Sir Reginald's money matters, his
+fits, and his death; and, finally, he fell asleep in his chair, having
+taken three cups of tea.
+
+The twilight had melted into darkness by this time, and the clear, cold
+moonlight was frosting all the landscape, and falling white and bright
+on the carriage-way outside, and casting on the floor the sharp shadows
+of the window-sashes, and giving the brilliant representations of the
+windows and the very veining of the panes of glass upon the white
+boards.
+
+As Martha sat by the table, with her eyes fixed, in a reverie, on one of
+these reflections upon the floor, the shadow of a man was suddenly
+presented upon it, and raising her eyes she saw a figure, black against
+the moonlight, beckoning gently to her to approach.
+
+Martha Tansey was an old lass of the Northumbrian counties, and had in
+her veins the fiery blood of the Border. The man wore a great-coat, and
+she could not discern his features; but he was tall and slight, and she
+was sure he was Mr. Longcluse. But "what dar' Longcluse say or do that
+she need fear?" And was not Crozier dozing there in the chair, "ready at
+call?"
+
+Up she got, and stalked boldly to the window, and, drawing near, she
+plainly saw, as the stranger drew himself up from the window-pane
+through which he had been looking, and the moonlight glanced on his
+features, that the face was indeed that of Mr. Longcluse. He looked very
+pale, and was smiling. He nodded to her in a friendly way once or twice
+as she approached. She stood stock-still about two yards away, and
+though she knew him well, she deigned no sign of recognition, for she
+had learned vaguely something of the feud that had sprung up between him
+and the young head of the family, and no daughter of the marches was
+ever a fiercer partisan than lean old Martha. He tapped at the window,
+still smiling, and beckoned her nearer. She did come a step nearer, and
+asked sternly--
+
+"What's your will wi' me?"
+
+"I'm Mr. Longcluse," he said, in a low tone, but with sharp and measured
+articulation. "I have something important to say. Open the window a
+little; I must not raise my voice, and I have this to give you." He held
+a note by the corner, and tapped it on the glass.
+
+Martha Tansey thought for a moment. It could not be a law-writ he had to
+serve; a rich man like him would never do that. Why should she not take
+his note, and hear what he had to say? She removed the bolt from the
+sash, and raised the window. There was not a breath stirring.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER LIV.
+
+AMONG THE TREES.
+
+
+When the old woman had raised the window, "Thanks," said Mr. Longcluse,
+almost in a whisper. "There are people, Lady May Penrose told me this
+morning, threatening to interrupt the funeral to-night. Of course you
+know--you must know."
+
+"I have heard o' some such matter, but 'tis nout to no one here. We
+don't care a snap for them, and if they try any sich lids, by my sang,
+we'll fit them. And I think, Sir, if ye've any thing o' consequence to
+tell to the family, ye'll not mind my saying 'twould be better ye sud
+go, like ither folk, to the hall-door, and leave your message there."
+
+"Your reproof would be better deserved, Mrs. Tansey," he answers
+good-humouredly, "if there had not been a difficulty. Mr. Richard Arden
+is not on pleasant terms with me, and my business will not afford to
+wait. I understand that Miss Arden has suffered much anxiety. It is
+entirely on her account that I have interested myself so much in it; and
+I don't see, Mrs. Tansey, why you and I should not be better friends,"
+he adds, extending his long slender hand gently towards her.
+
+She does not take it, but makes a stiff little curtsey instead, and
+draws back about six inches.
+
+Perhaps Mr. Longcluse had meditated making her a present, but her severe
+looks daunted him, and he thought that he might as well be a little
+better acquainted before he made that venture. He went on--
+
+"You have spoken very wisely, Mrs. Tansey; I am sure if these people do
+as they threaten, it will be contrary to law, and so, as you say, you
+may snap your fingers at them at last. But in the meantime they may
+enter the house and seize the coffin, or possibly cause some disgraceful
+interruption on the way. Lady May tells me that Miss Alice has suffered
+a great deal in consequence. Will you tell her to set her mind at ease?
+Pray assure her that I have seen the people, that I have threatened them
+into submission, that I am confident no such attempt will be made, and
+that should the slightest annoyance be attempted, Crozier has only to
+present the notice enclosed in this to the person offering it, and it
+will instantly be discontinued. I have done all this _entirely_ on her
+account, and pray lose no time in quieting her alarms. I am sure, Mrs.
+Tansey, you and I shall be better friends some day."
+
+Mrs. Tansey curtseyed again.
+
+"Pray take this note."
+
+She took it.
+
+"Give it to Crozier; and pray tell Miss Alice Arden, immediately, that
+she need have no fears. Good-night."
+
+And pale Mr. Longcluse, with his smile and his dismally dark gaze, and
+the strange suggestion of something undefined in look or tone, or air,
+that gradually overcame her more and more till she almost felt faint, as
+he smiled and murmured at the open window, in the moonlight, was gone.
+Then she stood with the note in her thin fingers, without moving, and
+called to Crozier with a shrill and earnest summons as one who has just
+had a frightful dream will call up a sleeper in the same room.
+
+Mr. Longcluse walks boldly and listlessly through this forbidden ground.
+He does not care who may meet him. Near the house, indeed, he would not
+like an encounter with Sir Richard Arden, because he knows that his
+being involved in a quarrel at such a moment, so near, especially with
+her brother, would not subserve his interests with Alice Arden.
+
+For hours he strode or loitered alone through the solitary woodlands.
+The moonlight was beautiful; the old trees stand mournful and black
+against the luminous sky; there is for him a fascination in the
+solitude, as his noiseless steps lead him alternately into the black
+shadow cast on the sward by the towering foliage, and into the clear
+moonlight, on dewy grass that shows grey in that cold brightness. He was
+in the excitement of hope and suspense. Things had looked very black,
+but a door had opened and light came out. Was it a dream?
+
+He leans with folded arms against the trunk of one of the trees that
+stand there, and from the slight elevation of the ground he can see the
+avenue under the boughs of the trees that flank it, and the chimneys of
+Mortlake Hall through the summits of the opening clumps. How melancholy
+and still the whole scene looks under that light!
+
+"When I succeed to all this, who will be mistress of it?" he says, with
+his strange smile, looking toward the summits of the chimneys, that
+indicate the site of the Hall. "No one knows who I am; who can tell my
+history? What about that opera-girl? What about my money?--money is
+alway exaggerated. How many humbugs! how many collapses! stealing into
+society by evasions, on false pretences, in disguise! The man in the
+mask, ha! ha! Really perhaps _two_ masks; not a bad fluke, that. The
+villain! You would not take a thousand pounds and know me--that is
+speaking boldly. A thousand pounds is still something in your book. You
+would not take it. The time will come, perhaps, when you'd _give_ a
+thousand--_ten_ thousand, if you had them--that I were your friend.
+Slanderous villain! To think of his talking so of me! The man in the
+mask trying to excite suspicion. My two masks are broken, and I all the
+better. By--! you shall meet me yet without a mask. Alice! will you be
+my idol? There is no neutrality with one like me in such a case. If I
+don't worship, I must _break_ the image. What a speck we stand on
+between the illimitable--the eternal past and the eternal future--always
+looking for a present that shall be something tangible; always finding
+it a mathematical point, _cujus nulla est pars_--the mere stand-point of
+a retrospect and a conjecture. Ha! There are the wheels: there goes the
+funeral!"
+
+He holds his breath, and watches. How interesting is everything
+connected with Alice! Slowly it passes along. Through one opening made
+by the havoc of a storm in the line of trees that form the avenue, he
+sees it plainly enough. A very scanty procession--the plumed hearse and
+three carriages, and a few persons walking beside. It passes. The great
+iron gate shrieks its long and dolorous note as it opened, and Longcluse
+heard it clang after the last carriage had passed, and with this
+farewell the old gate sent forth the dead master of Mortlake.
+
+"Farewell to Mortlake," murmured Longcluse, as he heard these sounds,
+with a shrug and his peculiar smile; "farewell, the lights, the
+claret-jug, the whist, and all the rest. You 'fear neither justices nor
+bailiffs,' as the song says, any longer. Very easy about your interest
+and your premiums; very careless who arrests you in your leaden vesture;
+and having paid, if nothing else, at least your beloved son's _post
+obit_. Courage, Sir Reginald! your earthly troubles are over. Here am I,
+erect as this tree, and as like to live my term out, with all that
+money, and no will made, and yet as tired as ever you were, and very
+willing, if the transaction were feasible, to die, and be bothered no
+more, instead of you."
+
+He sighs, and looks toward the house, and sighs again.
+
+"Does she relent? Was it not she who told Lady May to ask this service
+of me? If I could only be sure of that, I should stand here, this
+moment, the proudest man in England. I think I know myself--a very
+simple character; just two principles--love and malice; for the rest,
+unscrupulous. Mere cruelty gives me no pleasure: well for some people it
+don't. Revenge does make me happy: well for some people if it didn't.
+Except for those I love or those I hate, I live for none. The rest live
+for me. I owe them no more than I do this rotten stick. Let them rot and
+fatten my land; let them burn and bake my bread."
+
+With these words he kicked the fragments of a decayed branch that lay at
+his foot, and glided over the short grass, like a ghost, toward the
+gate.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER LV.
+
+MR. LONGCLUSE SEES A FRIEND.
+
+
+Sir Reginald Arden, then, is actually dead and buried, and is quite done
+with the pomps and vanities, the business and the miseries of life--dead
+as King Duncan, and cannot come out of his grave to trouble any one with
+protest or interference; and his son, Sir Richard, is in possession of
+the title, and seized of the acres, and uses them, without caring to
+trouble himself with conjectures as to what his father would have liked
+or abhorred.
+
+A week has passed since the funeral. Lady May has spent two days at
+Mortlake, and then gone down to Brighton. Alice does not leave Mortlake;
+her spirits do not rise. Kind Lady May has done her best to persuade her
+to come down with her to Brighton, but the perversity or the indolence
+of grief has prevailed, and Alice has grown more melancholy and
+self-upbraiding about her quarrel with her father, and will not be
+persuaded to leave Mortlake, the very worst place she could have chosen,
+as Lady May protests, for a residence during her mourning. Perhaps in a
+little while she may feel equal to the effort, but now she can't. She
+has quite lost her energy, and the idea of a place like Brighton, or
+even the chance of meeting people, is odious to her.
+
+"So, my dear, do what I may, there she will remain, in that _triste_
+place," says Lady May Penrose; "and her brother, Sir Richard, has so
+much business just now on his hands, that he is often away two or three
+days at a time, and then she stays moping there quite alone; and only
+that she likes gardening and flowers, and that kind of thing, I really
+think she would go melancholy mad. But you know that kind of folly can't
+go on always, and I am determined to take her away in a month or so.
+People at first are so morbid, and make recluses of themselves."
+
+Lady May stayed away at Brighton for about a week. On her return, Mr.
+Longcluse called to see her.
+
+"It was so kind of you, Mr. Longcluse, to take all the trouble you did
+about that terrible business! and it was perfectly successful. There was
+not the slightest unpleasantness."
+
+"Yes, I knew I had made anything of that kind all but impossible, but
+you are not to thank me. It made me only too happy to have an
+opportunity of being of any use--of relieving any anxiety."
+
+Longcluse sighed.
+
+"You have placed me, I know, under a great obligation, and if every one
+felt it as I do, you would have been thanked as you deserved before
+now."
+
+A little silence followed.
+
+"How is Miss Arden?" asked he in a low tone, and hardly raising his
+eyes.
+
+"Pretty well," she answered, a little dryly. "She's not very wise, I
+think, in planning to shut herself up so entirely in that melancholy
+place, Mortlake. You have seen it?"
+
+"Yes, more than once," he answered.
+
+Lady May appeared more embarrassed as Mr. Longcluse grew less so. They
+became silent again. Mr. Longcluse was the first to speak, which he did
+a little hesitatingly.
+
+"I was going to say that I hoped Miss Arden was not vexed at my having
+ventured to interfere as I did."
+
+"Oh! about that, of course there ought to be, as I said, but one
+opinion; but you know she is not herself just now, and I shall have,
+perhaps, something to tell by-and-by; and, to say truth--you won't be
+vexed, but I'm sorry I undertook to speak to her, for on that point I
+really don't quite understand her; and I am a little vexed--and--I'll
+talk to you more another time. I'm obliged to keep an appointment just
+now, and the carriage," she added, glancing at the _pendule_ on the
+bracket close by, "will be at the door in two or three minutes; so I
+must do a very ungracious thing, and say good-bye; and you must come
+again very soon--come to luncheon to-morrow--you must, really; I won't
+let you off, I assure you; there are two or three people coming to see
+me, whom I think you would like to meet."
+
+And, looking very good-natured, and a little flushed, and rather
+avoiding Mr. Longcluse's dark eyes, she departed.
+
+He had been thinking of paying Miss Maubray a visit, but he had not
+avowed, even to himself, how high his hopes had mounted; and here was,
+in Lady May's ominous manner and determined evasion, matter to disturb
+and even shock him. Instead, therefore, of pursuing the route he had
+originally designed, he strolled into the park, and under the shade of
+green boughs he walked, amid the twitter of birds and the prattle of
+children and nursery-maids, with despair at his heart, and a brain in
+chaos.
+
+As he sauntered, with downcast looks, under the trees, he came upon a
+humble Hebrew friend, Mr. Goldshed, a magnate in his own circle, but
+dwarfed into nothing beside the paragon of Mammon who walked on the
+grass, so unpretentiously, and with a face as anxious as that of the
+greengrocer who had just been supplicating the Jew for a renewal of his
+twenty-five pound bill.
+
+Mr. Goldshed came to a full stop a little way in advance of Mr.
+Longcluse, anxious to attract his attention. Mr. Longcluse did see him,
+as he sauntered on; and the fat old Jew, with the seedy velvet
+waistcoat, crossed with gold chains, and with an old-fashioned gold
+eye-glass dangling at his breast, first smiled engagingly, then looked
+reverential and solemn, and then smiled again with his great moist lips,
+and raised his hat. Longcluse gave him a sharp, short nod, and intended
+to pass him.
+
+"Will you shpare me one word, Mr. Lonclushe?"
+
+"Not to-day, Sir."
+
+"But I've been to your chambers, Sir, and to your houshe, Mr.
+Lonclushe."
+
+"You've wasted time--waste no more."
+
+"I do assure you, Shir, it'sh very urgent."
+
+"I don't care."
+
+"It'sh about that East Indian thing," and he lowered his voice as he
+concluded the sentence.
+
+"I don't care a pin, Sir."
+
+The amiable Mr. Goldshed hesitated; Mr. Longcluse passed him as if he
+had been a post. He turned, however, and walked a few steps by Mr.
+Longcluse's side.
+
+"And everything elshe is going sho vell; and it would look fishy, don't
+you think, to let thish thing go that way?"
+
+"Let them go--and go you with them. I wish the earth would swallow you
+all--scrip, bonds, children, and beldames." And if a stamp could have
+made the earth open at his bidding, it would have yawned wide enough at
+that instant. "If you follow me another step, by Heaven, I'll make it
+unpleasant to you."
+
+Mr. Longcluse looked so angry, that the Jew made him an unctuous bow,
+and remained fixed for a while to the earth, gazing after his patron
+with his hands in his pockets; and, with a gloomy countenance, he took
+forth a big cigar from his case, lighted a vesuvian, and began to smoke,
+still looking after Mr. Longcluse.
+
+That gentleman sauntered on, striking his stick now and then to the
+ground, or waving it over the grass in as many odd flourishes as a
+magician in a pantomime traces with his wand.
+
+If men are prone to teaze themselves with imaginations, they are equally
+disposed to comfort themselves with the same shadowy influences.
+
+"I'm so nervous about this thing, and so anxious, that I exaggerate
+everything that seems to tell against me. How did I ever come to love
+her so? And yet, would I kill that love if I could? Should I not kill
+myself first? I'll go and see Miss Maubray--I may hear something from
+her. Lady May _was_ embarrassed: what then? Were I a simple observer of
+such a scene in the case of another, I should say there was nothing in
+it more than this--that she had quite forgotten all about her promise.
+She never mentioned my name, and when the moment came, and I had come to
+ask for an account, she did not know what to say. It was well done, to
+see old Mrs. Tansey as I did. Lady May is so good-natured, and would
+feel her little neglect so much, and she will be sure to make it up.
+Fifty things may have prevented her. Yes, I'll go and hear what Miss
+Maubray has to say, and I'll lunch with Lady May to-morrow. I suspect
+that her visit to-day was to Mortlake."
+
+With these reflections, Mr. Longcluse's pace became brisker, and his
+countenance brightened.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER LVI.
+
+A HOPE EXPIRES.
+
+
+Mr. Longcluse knocked at Mr. David Arden's door. Yes, Miss Maubray was
+at home. He mounted the stairs, and was duly announced at the
+drawing-room door, and saw the brilliant young lady, who received him
+very graciously. She was alone.
+
+Mr. Longcluse began by saying that the weather was cooler, and the sun
+much less intolerable.
+
+"I wish we could say as much for the people, though, indeed, they are
+cool enough. There are some people called Tramways: he's a baronet--a
+very new one. Do you know anything of them? Are they people one can
+know?"
+
+"I only know that Lady Tramway chaperoned a very charming young lady,
+whom everybody is very glad to know, to Lady May's garden-party the
+other day, at Richmond."
+
+"Yes, very true; I'm that young lady, and that is the very reason I want
+to know. My uncle placed me in their hands."
+
+"Oh, he knows everybody."
+
+"Yes, and every one, which is quite another thing; and the woman has
+never given me an hour's quiet since. She presents me with bouquets, and
+fruit, and every imaginable thing I don't want, herself included, at
+least once a day; and I assure you I live in hourly terror of her
+getting into the drawing-room. You don't know anything about them?"
+
+"I only know that her husband made a great deal of money by a contract."
+
+"That sounds very badly, and she is such a vulgar woman?"
+
+"I know no more of them; but Lady May had her to Raleigh Hall, and
+surely she can satisfy your scruples."
+
+"No, it was my guardian who asked for their card, so that goes for
+nothing. It is really too bad."
+
+"My heart bleeds for you."
+
+"By-the-bye, talking of Lady May, I had a visit from her not a
+quarter-of-an-hour ago. What a fuss our friends at Mortlake do make
+about the death of that disagreeable old man!--Alice, I mean. Richard
+Arden bears it wonderfully. When did you see either?" she asked,
+innocently.
+
+"You forget he has not been dead three weeks, and Alice Arden is not
+likely to see any one but very intimate friends for a long time;
+and--and I daresay you have heard that Sir Richard Arden and I are not
+on very pleasant terms."
+
+"'Oh! Pity such difference should be----.'"
+
+"Thanks, and Tweedledum and Tweedledee are not likely to make it up. I'm
+afraid people aren't always reasonable, you know, and expect, often,
+things that are not quite fair."
+
+"He ought to marry some one with money, and give up play."
+
+"What! give up play, and commence husband? I'm afraid he'd think that a
+rather dull life."
+
+"Well, I'm sure I'm no judge of that, although I give an opinion.
+Whatever he may be, you have a very staunch friend in Lady May."
+
+"I'm glad of that; she's always so kind." And he looked rather oddly at
+the young lady.
+
+Perhaps she seemed conscious of a knowledge more than she had yet
+divulged.
+
+This young lady was, I need not tell you, a little coarse. She had, when
+she liked, the frankness that can come pretty boldly to the point; but I
+think she could be sly enough when she pleased; and was she just a
+little mischievous?
+
+"Lady May has been talking to me a great deal about Alice Arden. She has
+been to see her very often since that poor old man died, and she
+says--she says, Mr. Longcluse--will you be upon honour not to repeat
+this?"
+
+"Certainly, upon my honour."
+
+"Well, she says----"
+
+Miss Maubray gets up quickly, and settles some flowers over the
+chimney-piece.
+
+"She says that there is a coolness in that quarter also."
+
+"I don't quite see," says Mr. Longcluse.
+
+"Well, I must tell you she has taken me into council, and told me a
+great deal; and she spoke to Alice, and wrote to her. Did she say she
+would show you the answer? I have got it; she left it with me, and asked
+me--she's so good-natured--to use my influence--she said _my_ influence!
+She ought to know I've _no_ influence."
+
+Longcluse felt very oddly indeed during this speech; he had still
+presence of mind not to add anything to the knowledge the young lady
+might actually possess.
+
+"You have not said a great deal, you know; but Lady May certainly did
+promise to show me an answer which she expected to a note she wrote
+about three weeks ago, or less, to Miss Arden."
+
+"I really don't know of what use I can be in the matter. I have no
+excuse for speaking to Alice on the subject of her note--none in the
+world. I think I may as well let you see it; but you will promise--you
+_have_ promised--not to tell any one?"
+
+"I have--I do--I promise. Lady May herself said she would show me that
+letter."
+
+"Well, I can't, I suppose, be very wrong. It is only a note: it does not
+say much, but quite enough, I'm afraid, to make it useless, and almost
+impertinent, for me, or any one else, to say a word more on the subject
+to Alice Arden."
+
+All this time she is opening a very pretty marqueterie writing-desk, on
+spiral legs, which Longcluse has been listlessly admiring, little
+thinking what it contains. She now produced a little note, which,
+disengaging from its envelope, she places in the hand that Mr. Longcluse
+extended to receive it.
+
+"I do so hope," she said, as she gave it to him, "that I am doing what
+Lady May would wish. I think she shrank a little from showing it to you
+herself, but I am certain she wished you to know what is in it."
+
+He opened it quickly. It ran thus ("Merry," I must remark, was a pet
+name, originating, perhaps, in Shakespeare's song that speaks of "the
+merry month of May"):--
+
+    "DEAREST MERRY,
+
+    "I hope you will come to see me to-morrow. I cannot yet bear the
+    idea of going into town. I feel as if I never should, and I think I
+    grow more and more miserable every day. You are one of the very few
+    friends whom I can see. You can't think what a pleasure a call from
+    you is--if, indeed, in my miserable state, I can call anything a
+    pleasure. I have read your letter about Mr. Longcluse, and parts of
+    it a little puzzle me. I can't say that I have anything to forgive,
+    and I am sure he has acted just as kindly as you say. But our
+    acquaintance has ended, and nothing shall ever induce me to renew
+    it. I can give you fifty reasons, when I see you, for my not
+    choosing to know him. Darling Merry, I have quite made up my mind
+    upon this point. I _don't_ know Mr. Longcluse, and I _won't_ know
+    Mr. Longcluse; and I'll tell you _all_ my reasons, if you wish to
+    hear them, when we meet. Some of them, which seem to me _more_ than
+    sufficient, you do know. The only condition I make is that you don't
+    discuss them with me. I have grown so stupid that _I_ really cannot.
+    I only know that I am right, and that _nothing_ can change me. Come,
+    darling, and see me very soon. You have no idea how very wretched I
+    am. But I do not complain: it has drawn me, I hope, to higher and
+    better thoughts. The world is not what it was to me, and I pray it
+    never may be. Come and see me soon, darling; you cannot think how I
+    long to see you.--Your affectionate,
+
+    "ALICE ARDEN."
+
+"What mountains of molehills!" said Mr. Longcluse, very gently, smiling
+with a little shrug, as he placed the letter again in Miss Maubray's
+hand.
+
+"Making such a fuss about that poor old man's death! It certainly does
+look a little like a pretty affectation. Isn't that what you mean? He
+_was_ so _insupportable_!"
+
+"No, I know nothing about that. I mean such a ridiculous fuss about
+nothing. Why, people cease to be acquainted every day for much less
+reason. Sir Reginald chose to talk over his money matters with me, and I
+think he expected me to do things which no stranger could be reasonably
+invited to do. And I suppose, now that he is gone, Miss Arden resents my
+insensibility to his hints; and I daresay Sir Richard, who, I may say,
+on precisely similar grounds, chooses to quarrel with me, does not spare
+invective, and has, of course, a friendly listener in his sister. But
+how absurdly provoking that Lady May should have made such a diplomacy,
+and given herself so much trouble! And--I'm afraid I appear so
+foolish--I merely assented to Lady May's kind proposal to mediate, and I
+could not, of course, appear to think it a less important mission than
+she did; and--where are you going--Scotland? Italy?"
+
+"My guardian, Mr. Arden, has not yet settled anything," she answered;
+and upon this, Mr. Longcluse begins to recommend, and with much
+animation to describe, several Continental routes, and then he tells her
+all his gossip, and takes his leave, apparently in very happy spirits.
+
+I doubt very much whether the face can ever be taught to lie as
+impudently as the tongue. Its muscles, of course, can be trained; but
+the young lady thought that Mr. Longcluse's pallor, as he smiled and
+returned the note, was more intense, and his dark eyes strangely fierce.
+
+"He was more vexed than he cared to say," thought the young lady. "Lady
+May has not told me the whole story yet. There has been a great deal of
+fibbing, but I shall know it all."
+
+Mr. Longcluse had to dine out. He drove home to dress. On arriving, he
+first sat down and wrote a note to Lady May.
+
+    "DEAR LADY MAY,
+
+    "I am so grateful. Miss Maubray told me to-day all the trouble you
+    have been taking for me. Pray think no more of that little vexation.
+    I never took so serious a view of so commonplace an unpleasantness,
+    as to dream of tasking your kindness so severely. I am quite ashamed
+    of having given you so much trouble.--Yours, dear Lady May,
+    sincerely,
+
+    "WALTER LONGCLUSE."
+
+    "P.S.--I don't forget your kind invitation to lunch to-morrow."
+
+Longcluse dispatched this note, and then wrote a few words of apology to
+the giver of the City dinner, to which he had intended to go. He could
+not go. He was very much agitated: he knew that he could not endure the
+long constraint of that banquet. He was unfit, for the present, to bear
+the company of any one. Gloomy and melancholy was the pale face of this
+man, as if he were going to the funeral of his beloved, when he stepped
+from his door in the dark. Was he going to walk out to Mortlake, and
+shoot himself on the steps?
+
+As Mr. Longcluse walked into town, he caught a passing sight of a
+handsome young face that jarred upon him. It was that of Richard Arden,
+who was walking, also alone, not under any wild impulse, but to keep an
+appointment. This handsome face appeared for a moment gliding by, and
+was lost. Melancholy and thoughtful he looked, and quite unconscious of
+the near vicinity of his pale adversary. We shall follow him to his
+place of rendezvous.
+
+He walked quickly by Pall Mall, and down Parliament Street, into the
+ancient quarter of Westminster, turned into a street near the Abbey, and
+from it into another that ran toward the river. Here were tall and dingy
+mansions, some of which were let out as chambers. In one of these, in a
+room over the front drawing-room, Mr. Levi received his West-end
+clients; and here, by appointment, he awaited Sir Richard Arden.
+
+The young baronet, a little paler, and with the tired look of a man who
+was made acquainted with care, enters this room, hot with the dry
+atmosphere of gas-light. With his back towards the door, and his feet on
+the fender, smoking, sits Mr. Levi. Sir Richard does not remove his hat,
+and he stands by the table, which he slaps once or twice sharply with
+his stick. Mr. Levi turns about, looking, in his own phrase, unusually
+"down in the mouth," and his big black eyes are glowing angrily.
+
+"Ho! Shir Richard Harden," he says, rising, "I did not think we was sho
+near the time. Izh it a bit too soon?"
+
+"A little later than the time I named."
+
+"Crikey! sho it izh."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER LVII.
+
+LEVI'S APOLOGUE.
+
+
+The room had once been a stately one. Three tall windows looked toward
+the street. Its cornices and door-cases were ponderous, and its
+furniture was heterogeneous, and presented the contrasts that might be
+expected in a broker's store. A second-hand Turkey carpet, in a very
+dusty state, covered part of the floor; and a dirty canvas sack lay by
+the door for people coming in to rub their feet on. The table was a
+round one, that turned on a pivot; it was oak, massive and carved, with
+drawers; there were two huge gilt arm-chairs covered with Utrecht
+velvet, a battered office-stool, and two or three bed-room chairs that
+did not match. There were two great iron safes on tressels. On the top
+of one was some valuable old china, and on the other an electrifying
+machine; a French harp with only half-a-dozen strings stood in the
+corner near the fire-place, and several dusty pictures of various sizes
+leaned with their faces against the wall. A jet of gas burned right over
+the table, and had blackened the ceiling by long use, and a dip candle,
+from which Mr. Levi lighted his cigars, burned in a brass candlestick on
+the hob of the empty grate. Over everything lay a dark grey drift of
+dust. And the two figures, the elegant young man in deep mourning, and
+the fierce vulgar little Jew, shimmering all over with chains, rings,
+pins, and trinkets, stood in a narrow circle of light, in strong relief
+against the dim walls of the large room.
+
+"So you _will_ want that bit o' money in hand?" said Mr. Levi.
+
+"I told you so."
+
+"Don't you think they'll ever get tired helpin' you, if you keep pulling
+alwaysh the wrong way?"
+
+"You said, this morning, I might reckon upon the help of that friend to
+any extent within reason," said Sir Richard, a little sourly.
+
+"Ye're goin' fashter than yer friendsh li-likesh; ye're goin'
+al-ash--ye're goin' a terrible lick, you are!" said Mr. Levi, solemnly.
+
+His usually pale face was a little flushed; he was speaking rather
+thickly, and there came at intervals a small hiccough, which indicated
+that he had been making merry.
+
+"That's my own affair, I fancy," replied Sir Richard, as haughtily as
+prudence would permit. "You are simply an agent."
+
+"Wish shome muff would take it off my hands; 'shan agenshy tha'll bring
+whoever takesh it more tr-tr-ouble than tin. By my shoul I'll not keepsh
+long! I'm blowsh if I'll be fool any longer!"
+
+"I'm to suppose, then, that you have made up your mind to act no longer
+for my friend, whoever that friend may be?" said Sir Richard, who boded
+no good to himself from that step.
+
+Mr. Levi nodded surlily.
+
+"Have you drawn those bills?"
+
+Mr. Levi gave the table a spin, unlocked a drawer, and threw two bills
+across to Sir Richard, who glancing at them said,--
+
+"The date is ridiculously short!"
+
+"How can I 'elp 't? and the interesht shlesh than nothin': sh-shunder
+the bank termsh f-or the besht paper going--I'm blesht if it ain't--it
+ain't f-fair interesh--the timesh short becaushe the partiesh,
+theysh--they shay they're 'ard hup, Shir, 'eavy sharge to pay hoff, and
+a big purchashe in Austriansh!"
+
+"My uncle, David Arden, I happen to know, is buying Austrian stock this
+week; and Lady May Penrose is to pay off a charge on her property next
+month."
+
+The Jew smiled mysteriously.
+
+"You may as well be frank with me," added Sir Richard Arden, pleased at
+having detected the coincidence, which was strengthened by his having,
+the day before, surprised his uncle in conference with Lady May.
+
+"If you don't like the time, why don't you try shomwhere else? why don't
+you try Lonclushe? There'sh a shwell! Two millionsh, if he's worth a
+pig! A year, or a month, 'twouldn't matter a tizhy to him, and you and
+him'sh ash thick ash two pickpockets!"
+
+"You're mistaken; I don't choose to have any transactions with Mr.
+Longcluse."
+
+There was a little pause.
+
+"By-the-bye, I saw in some morning paper--I forget which--a day or two
+ago, a letter attacking Mr. Longcluse for an alleged share in the
+bank-breaking combination; and there was a short reply from him."
+
+"I know, in the _Timesh_," interposed Levi.
+
+"Yes," said Arden, who, in spite of himself, was always drawn into talk
+with this fellow more than he intended; such was the force of the
+ambiguously confidential relations in which he found himself. "What is
+thought of that in the City?"
+
+"There'sh lotsh of opinionsh about it; not a shafe chap to quar'l with.
+If you rub Lonclushe this year, he'll tear you for itsh the next. He'sh
+a bish--a bish--a bit--bit of a bully, is Lonclushe, and don't alwaysh
+treat 'ish people fair. If you've quar'led with him, look oush--I shay,
+look oush!"
+
+"Give me the cheque," said Sir Richard, extending his fingers.
+
+"Pleashe, Shir Richard, accept them billsh," replied Levi, pushing an
+ink-stand toward him, "and I'll get our cheque for you."
+
+So Mr. Levi took the dip candle and opened one of the safes, displaying
+for a moment cases of old-fashioned jewellery, and a number of watches.
+I daresay Mr. Levi and his partner made advances on deposits.
+
+"Why don't you cut them confounded rasesh, Shir Richard? I'm bleshed if
+I didn't lose five pounds on the Derby myself! There'sh lotsh of field
+sportsh," he continued, approaching the table with his cheque-book.
+"Didn't you never shee a ferret kill a rabbit? It'sh a beautiful thing;
+it takesh it shomeway down the back, and bit by bit it mendsh itsh grip,
+moving up to-_wards_ the head. It _is_ really beautiful, and not a
+shound from either, only you'll see the rabbitsh big eyes lookin' sho
+wonderful! and the ferret hangsh on, swinging this way and that like a
+shna-ake--'tish wery pretty!--till he worksh hish grip up to where the
+backbone joinish in with the brain; and then in with itsh teeth, through
+the shkull! and the rabbit givesh a screetch like a child in a fit. Ha,
+ha, ha! I'm blesht if it ain't done ash clever ash a doctor could do it.
+'Twould make you laugh. That will do."
+
+And he took the bills from Sir Richard, and handed him two cheques, and
+as he placed the bills in the safe, and locked them up, he continued,--
+
+"It _ish_ uncommon pretty! I'd rayther shee it than a terrier on fifty
+rats. The rabbit's sho shimple--there'sh the fun of it--and looksh sho
+foolish; and every rabbit had besht look sharp," he continued, turning
+about as he put the keys in his pocket, and looking with his burning
+black eyes full on Sir Richard, "and not let a ferret get a grip
+anywhere; for if he getsh a good purchase, he'll never let go till he
+hash his teeth in his brain, and then he'sh off with a shqueak, and
+there's an end of him."
+
+"I can get notes for one of these cheques to-night?" said Sir Richard.
+
+"The shmall one, yesh, eashy," answered Mr. Levi. "I'm a bachelor," he
+added jollily, in something like a soliloquy, "and whenever I marry I'll
+be the better of it; and I'm no muff, and no cove can shay that I ever
+shplit on no one. And what do I care for Lonclushe? Not the snuff of
+this can'le!" And he snuffed the dip scornfully with his fingers, and
+flung the sparkling wick over the bannister, as he stood at the door, to
+light Sir Richard down the stairs.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER LVIII.
+
+THE BARON COMES TO TOWN.
+
+
+Weeks flew by. The season was in its last throes: the session was within
+a day or two of its death. Lady May drove out to Mortlake with a project
+in her head.
+
+Alice Arden was glad to see her.
+
+"I've travelled all this way," she said, "to make you come with me on
+Friday to the Abbey."
+
+"On Friday? Why Friday, dear?" answered Alice.
+
+"Because there is to be a grand oratorio of Handel's. It is for the
+benefit of the clergy's sons' school, and it is one that has not been
+performed in England for I forget how many years. It is _Saul_. You have
+heard the Dead March in Saul, of course; everyone has; but no one has
+ever heard the oratorio, and come you must. There shall be no one but
+ourselves--you and I, and your uncle and your brother to take care of
+us. They have promised to come; and Stentoroni is to take Saul, and they
+have the finest voices in Europe; and they say that Herr Von Waasen, the
+conductor, is the greatest musician in the world. There have been eight
+performances in that great room--oh! what do you call it?--while I was
+away; and now there is only to be this one, and I'm longing to hear it;
+but I won't go unless you come with me--and you need not dress. It
+begins at three o'clock, and ends at six, and you can come just as you
+are now; and an oratorio is really exactly the same as going to church,
+so you have no earthly excuse; and I'll send out my carriage at one for
+you; and you'll see, it will do you all the good in the world."
+
+Alice had her difficulties, but Lady May's vigorous onset overpowered
+them, and at length she consented.
+
+"Does your uncle come out here to see you?" asks Lady May.
+
+"Often; he's very kind," she replies.
+
+"And Grace Maubray?"
+
+"Oh, yes; I see her pretty often--that is, she has been here twice, I
+think--quite often enough."
+
+"Well, do you know, I never could admire Grace Maubray as I have heard
+other people do," says Lady May. "There is something harsh and bold,
+don't you think?--something a little cruel. She is a girl that I don't
+think could ever be in love."
+
+"I don't know that," says Alice.
+
+"Oh! really?" says Lady May, "and who is it?"
+
+"It is merely a suspicion," says Alice.
+
+"Yes--but you think she likes some one--do, like a darling, tell me who
+it is," urges Lady May, a little uneasily.
+
+"You must not tell anyone, because they would say it was sisterly
+vanity, but I think she likes Dick."
+
+"Sir Richard?" says Lady May, with as much indifference as she could.
+
+"Yes, I think she likes my brother."
+
+Lady May smiles painfully.
+
+"I always thought so," she says; "and he admires her, of course?"
+
+"No, I don't think he admires her at all. I'm certain he doesn't," said
+Alice.
+
+"Well, certainly he always does speak of her as if she belonged to
+Vivian Darnley," remarks Lady May, more happily.
+
+"So she does, and he to her, I hope," said Alice.
+
+"Hope?" repeated Lady May, interrogatively.
+
+"Yes--I think nothing could be more suitable."
+
+"Perhaps so; you know them better than I do."
+
+"Yes, and I still think Uncle David intends them for one another."
+
+"I would have asked Mr. Longcluse," Lady May begins, after a little
+interval, "to use his influence to get us good hearing-places, but he is
+in such disgrace--is he still, or is there any chance of his being
+forgiven?"
+
+"I told you, darling, I have really nothing to forgive--but I have a
+kind of fear of Mr. Longcluse--a fear I can't account for. It began, I
+think, with that affair that seemed to me like a piece of insanity, and
+made me angry and bewildered; and then there was a dream, in which I saw
+such a horrible scene, and fancied he had murdered Richard, and I could
+not get it out of my head. I suppose I am in a nervous state--and there
+were other things; and, altogether, I think of him with a kind of
+horror--and I find that Martha Tansey has an unaccountable dread of him
+exactly as I have; and even Uncle David says that he has a misgiving
+about him that he can't get rid of, or explain."
+
+"I can't think, however, that he is a ghost or even a malefactor," said
+Lady May, "or anything worse than a very agreeable, good-natured person.
+I never knew anything more zealous than his good-nature on the occasion
+I told you of; and he has always approached you with so much devotion
+and respect--he seemed to me so sensitive, and to watch your very looks;
+I really think that a frown from you would have almost killed him."
+
+Alice sighs, and looked wearily through the window, as if the subject
+bored her; and she said listlessly,--
+
+"Oh, yes, he was kind, and gentlemanlike, and sang nicely, I grant you
+everything; but--there is something ominous about him, and I hate to
+hear him mentioned, and with my consent I'll never meet him more."
+
+Connected with the musical venture which the ladies were discussing, a
+remarkable person visited London. He had a considerable stake in its
+success. He was a penurious German, reputed wealthy, who ran over from
+Paris to complete arrangements about ticket-takers and treasurer, so as
+to ensure a system of check, such as would make it next to impossible
+for the gentlemen his partners to rob him. This person was the Baron
+Vanboeren.
+
+Mr. Blount had an intimation of this visit from Paris, and Mr. David
+Arden invited him to dine, of which invitation he took absolutely no
+notice; and then Mr. Arden called upon him in his lodging in St.
+Martin's Lane. There he saw him, this man, possibly the keeper of the
+secret which he had for twenty years of his life been seeking for. If he
+had a feudal ideal of this baron, he was disappointed. He beheld a
+short, thick man, with an enormous head and grizzled hair, coarse pug
+features, very grimy skin, and a pair of fierce black eyes, that never
+rested for a moment, and swept the room from corner to corner with a
+rapid and unsettled glance that was full of fierce energy.
+
+"The Baron Vanboeren?" inquires Uncle David courteously.
+
+The baron, who is smoking, nods gruffly.
+
+"My name is Arden--David Arden. I left my card two days ago, and having
+heard that your stay was but for a few days, I ventured to send you a
+very hurried invitation."
+
+The baron grunts and nods again.
+
+"I wrote a note to beg the pleasure of a very short interview, and you
+have been so good as to admit me."
+
+The baron smokes on.
+
+"I am told that you possibly are possessed of information which I have
+long been seeking in vain."
+
+Another nod.
+
+"Monsieur Lebas, the unfortunate little Frenchman who was murdered here
+in London, was, I believe, in your employment?"
+
+The baron here had a little fit of coughing.
+
+Uncle David accepted this as an admission.
+
+"He was acquainted with Mr. Longcluse?"
+
+"Was he?" says the baron, removing and replacing his pipe quickly.
+
+"Will you, Baron Vanboeren, be so good as to give me any information you
+possess respecting Mr. Longcluse? It is not, I assure you, from mere
+curiosity I ask these questions, and I hope you will excuse the trouble
+I give you."
+
+The baron took his pipe from his mouth, and blew out a thin stream of
+smoke.
+
+"I have heard," said he, in short, harsh tones, "since I came to London,
+nosing but good of Mr. Longcluse. I have ze greadest respect for zat
+excellent gendleman. I will say nosing bud zat--ze greadest respect."
+
+"You knew him in Paris, I believe?" urges Uncle David.
+
+"Nosing but zat--ze greadest respect," repeats the baron. "I sink him a
+very worzy gendleman."
+
+"No doubt, but I venture to ask whether you were acquainted with Mr.
+Longcluse in Paris?"
+
+"Zere are a gread many beoble in Paris. I have nosing to say of Mr.
+Longcluse, nosing ad all, only he is a man of high rebudation."
+
+And on completing this sentence the baron replaced his pipe, and
+delivered several rapid puffs.
+
+"I took the liberty of enclosing a letter from a friend explaining who I
+am, and that the questions I should entreat you to answer are not
+prompted by any idle or impertinent curiosity; perhaps, then, you would
+be so good as to say whether you know anything of a person named Yelland
+Mace, who visited Paris some twenty years since?"
+
+"I am in London, Sir, ubon my business, and no one else's. I am sinking
+of myself, and not about Mace or Longcluse, and I will not speak about
+eizer of zem. I am well baid for my dime. I will nod waste my dime on
+dalking--I will nod," he continues, warming as he proceeds; "nosing
+shall induce me do say one word aboud zoze gendlemen. I dake my oas I'll
+not, mein Gott! What do you mean by asking me aboud zem?"
+
+He looks positively ferocious as he delivers this expostulation.
+
+"My request must be more unreasonable than it appeared to me."
+
+"Nosing can be more unreasonable!"
+
+"And I am to understand that you positively object to giving me any
+information respecting the persons I have named?"
+
+The baron appeared extremely uneasy. He trotted to the door on his short
+legs, and looked out. Returning, he shut the door carefully. His grimy
+countenance, under the action of fear, assumes an expression peculiarly
+forbidding; and he said, with angry volubility--
+
+"Zis visit must end, Sir, zis moment. Donnerwesser! I will nod be
+combromised by you. But if you bromise as a Christian, ubon your honour,
+never to mention what I say----"
+
+"Never, upon my honour."
+
+"Nor to say you have talked with me here in London----"
+
+"Never."
+
+"I will tell you that I have no objection to sbeak wis you, _privately_
+in Paris, whenever you are zere--now, now! zat is all. I will not have
+one ozer word--you shall not stay one ozer minude."
+
+He opens the door and wags his head peremptorily, and points with his
+pipe to the lobby.
+
+"You'll not forget your promise, Baron, when I call? for visit you I
+will."
+
+"I never forget nosing. Monsieur Arden, will you go or _nod_?"
+
+"Farewell, Sir," says his visitor, too much excited by the promise
+opened to him, for the moment to apprehend what was ridiculous in the
+scene or in the brutality of the baron.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER LIX.
+
+TWO OLD FRIENDS MEET AND PART.
+
+
+When he was gone the Baron Vanboeren sat down and panted; his pipe had
+gone out, and he clutched it in his hand like a weapon and continued for
+some minutes, in the good old phrase, very much disordered.
+
+"That old fool," he mutters, in his native German, "won't come near me
+again while I remain in London."
+
+This assurance was, I suppose, consolatory, for the baron repeated it
+several times; and then bounced to his feet, and made a few hurried
+preparations for an appearance in the streets. He put on a short cloak
+which had served him for the last thirty years, and a preposterous hat;
+and with a thick stick in his hand, and a cigar lighted, sallied forth,
+square and short, to make Mr. Longcluse a visit by appointment.
+
+By this time the lamps were lighted. There had been a performance of
+_Saul_, a very brilliant success, although it pleased the baron to
+grumble over it that day. He had not returned from the great room where
+it had taken place more than an hour, when David Arden had paid his
+brief visit. He was now hastening to an interview which he thought much
+more momentous. Few persons who looked at that vulgar seedy figure,
+strutting through the mud, would have thought that the thread-bare black
+cloak, over which a brown autumnal tint had spread, and the monstrous
+battered felt hat, in which a costermonger would scarcely have gone
+abroad, covered a man worth a hundred and fifty thousand pounds.
+
+Man is mysteriously so constructed that he cannot abandon himself to
+selfishness, which is the very reverse of heavenly love, without in the
+end contracting some incurable insanity; and that insanity of the higher
+man constitutes, to a great extent, his mental death. The Baron
+Vanboeren's insanity was avarice; and his solitary expenses caused him
+all the sordid anxieties which haunt the unfortunate gentleman who must
+make both ends meet on five-and-thirty pounds a year.
+
+Though not _sui profusus_, he was _alieni appetens_ in a very high
+degree; and his visit to Mr. Longcluse was not one of mere affection.
+
+Mr. Longcluse was at home in his study. The baron was instantly shown
+in. Mr. Longcluse, smiling, with both hands extended to grasp his,
+advances to meet him.
+
+"My dear Baron, what an unexpected pleasure! I could scarcely believe my
+eyes when I read your note. So you have a stake in this musical
+speculation, and though it is very late, and, of course, everything at a
+disadvantage, I have to congratulate you on an immense success."
+
+The baron shrugs, shakes his head, and rolls his eyes dismally.
+
+"Ah, my friend, ze exbenses are enormous."
+
+"And the receipts still more so," says Longcluse cheerfully; "you must
+be making, among you, a mint of money."
+
+"Ah! Monsieur Longcluse, id is nod what it should be! zay are all such
+sieves and robbers! I will never escape under a loss of a sousand
+bounds."
+
+"You must be cheerful, my dear Baron. You shall dine with me to-day.
+I'll take you with me to half a dozen places of amusement worth seeing
+after dinner. To-morrow morning you shall run down with me to
+Brighton--my yacht is there--and when you have had enough of that, we
+shall run up again and have a whitebait dinner at Greenwich; and come
+into town and see those fellows, Markham and the other, that poor little
+Lebas saw play, the night he was murdered. You must see them play the
+return match, so long postponed. Next day we shall----"
+
+"Bardon, Monsieur, bardon! I am doo old. I have no spirits."
+
+"What, not enough to see a game of billiards between Markham and Hood!
+Why, Lebas was charmed so far as he saw it, poor fellow, with their
+play."
+
+"No, no, no, no, Monsieur; a sousand sanks, no, bardon, I cannod," says
+the baron. "I do not like billiards, and your friends have not found it
+a lucky game."
+
+"Well, if you don't care for billiards, we'll find something else,"
+replies hospitable Mr. Longcluse.
+
+"Nosing else, nosing else," answers the baron hastily. "I hade all zese
+sings, ze seatres, ze bubbedshows, and all ze ozer amusements, I give
+you my oas. Did you read my liddle node?"
+
+"I did indeed, and it amused me beyond measure," says Longcluse
+joyously.
+
+"Amuse!" repeats the baron, "how so?"
+
+"Because it is so diverting; one might almost fancy it was meant to ask
+me for fifteen hundred pounds."
+
+"I have lost, by zis sing, a vast deal more zan zat."
+
+"And, my dear Baron, what on earth have I to do with that?"
+
+"I am an old friend, a good friend, a true friend," says the baron,
+while his fierce little eyes sweep the walls, from corner to corner,
+with quivering rapidity. "You would not like to see me quide in a
+corner. You're the richest man in England, almost; what's one sousand
+five hundred to you? I have not wridden to you, or come to England, dill
+now. You have done nosing for your old friend yet: what are you going to
+give him?"
+
+"Not as much as I gave Lebas," said Longcluse, eyeing him askance, with
+a smile.
+
+"I don't know what you mean."
+
+"Not a napoleon, not a franc, not a sou."
+
+"You are jesding; sink, sink, sink, Monsieur, what a friend I have been
+and _am_ to you."
+
+"So I do, my dear Baron, and consider how I show my gratitude. Have I
+ever given a hint to the French police about the identity of the clever
+gentleman who managed the little tunnel through which a river of
+champagne flowed into Paris, under the barrier, duty free? Have I ever
+said a word about the confiscated jewels of the Marchioness de la
+Sarnierre? Have I ever asked how the Comte de Loubourg's little boy is,
+or directed an unfriendly eye upon the conscientious physician who
+extricates ladies and gentlemen from the consequences of late hours,
+nervous depression, and fifty other things that war against good
+digestion and sound sleep? Come, come, my good Baron, whenever we come
+to square accounts, the balance will stand very heavily in my favour. I
+don't want to press for a settlement, but if you urge it, by Heaven,
+I'll make you pay the uttermost farthing!"
+
+Longcluse laughs cynically. The baron looks very angry. His face darkens
+to a leaden hue. The fingers which he plunged into his snuff-box are
+trembling. He takes two or three great pinches of snuff before speaking.
+
+Mr. Longcluse watches all these symptoms of his state of mind with a
+sardonic enjoyment, beneath which, perhaps, is the sort of suspense with
+which a beast-tamer watches the eye of the animal whose fury he excites
+only to exhibit the coercion which he exercises through its fears, and
+who is for a moment doubtful whether its terrors or its fury may
+prevail.
+
+The baron's restless eyes roll wickedly. He puts his hand into his
+pocket irresolutely, and crumbles some papers there. There was no
+knowing, for some seconds, what turn things might take. But if he had
+for a moment meditated a crisis, he thought better of it. He breaks into
+a fierce laugh, and extends his hand to Mr. Longcluse, who as frankly
+places his own in it, and the baron shakes it vehemently. And Mr.
+Longcluse and he laugh boisterously and oddly together. The baron takes
+another great pinch of snuff, and then he says, sponging out as it were,
+as an ignored parenthesis, the critical part of their conversation--
+
+"No, no, I sink not; no, no, surely not. I am not fit for all zose
+amusements. I cannot knog aboud as I used; an old fellow, you know:
+beace and tranquilidy. No, I cannot dine with you. I dine with
+Stentoroni to-morrow; to-day I have dined with our _tenore_. How well
+you look! What nose, what tees, what chin! I am proud of you. We bart
+good friends, _bon soir_, Monsieur Longcluse, farewell. I am already a
+liddle lade."
+
+"Farewell, dear Baron. How can I thank you enough for this kind meeting?
+Try one of my cigars as you go home."
+
+The baron, not being a proud man, took half-a-dozen, and with a final
+shaking of hands these merry gentlemen parted, and Longcluse's door
+closed for ever on the Baron Vanboeren.
+
+"That bloated spider?" mused Mr. Longcluse. "How many flies has he
+sucked! It is another matter when spiders take to catching wasps."
+
+Every man of energetic passions has within him a principle of
+self-destruction. Longcluse had his. It had expressed itself in his
+passion for Alice Arden. That passion had undergone a wondrous change,
+but it was imperishable in its new as in its pristine state.
+
+This gentleman was in the dumps so soon as he was left alone. Always
+uncertainty; always the sword of Damocles; always the little reminders
+of perdition, each one contemptible, but each one in succession touching
+the same set of nerves, and like the fall of the drop of water in the
+inquisition, _non vi, sed saepe cadendo_, gradually heightening monotony
+into excitement, and excitement into frenzy. Living always with a sense
+of the unreality of life and the vicinity of death, with a certain stern
+tremor of the heart, like that of a man going into action, no wonder if
+he sometimes sickened of his bargain with Fate, and thought life
+purchased too dear on the terms of such a lease.
+
+Longcluse bolted his door, unlocked his desk, and there what do we see?
+Six or seven miniatures--two enamels, the rest on ivory--all by
+different hands; some English, some Parisian; very exquisite, some of
+them. Every one was Alice Arden. Little did she dream that such a
+gallery existed. How were they taken? Photographs are the colourless
+phantoms from which these glowing life-like beauties start.
+Tender-hearted Lady May has in confidence given him, from time to time,
+several of these from her album; he has induced foreign artists to visit
+London, and managed opportunities by which, at parties, in theatres, and
+I am sorry to say even in church, these clever persons succeeded in
+studying from the life, and learning all the tints which now glow before
+him. If I had mentioned what this little collection cost him, you would
+have opened your eyes. The Baron Vanboeren would have laughed and cursed
+him with hilarious derision, and a money-getting Christian would have
+been quite horror-struck, on reading the scandalous row of figures.
+
+Each miniature he takes in turn, and looks at for a long time, holding
+it in both hands, his hands resting on the desk, his face inclined and
+sad, as if looking down into the coffin of his darling. One after the
+other he puts them by, and returns to his favourite one; and at last he
+shuts it up also, with a snap, and places it with the rest in the dark,
+under lock and key.
+
+He leaned back and laid his thin hand across his eyes. Was he looking at
+an image that came out in the dark on the retina of memory? Or was he
+shedding tears?
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER LX.
+
+"SAUL."
+
+
+The day arrived on which Alice Arden had agreed to go with Lady May to
+Westminster Abbey, to hear the masterly performance of _Saul_. When it
+came to the point, she would have preferred staying at home; but that
+was out of the question. Every one has experienced that ominous
+forboding which overcomes us sometimes with a shapeless forecasting of
+evil. It was with that vague misgiving that she had all the morning
+looked forward to her drive to town, and the long-promised oratorio. It
+was a dark day, and there was a thunderous weight in the air, and the
+melancholy atmosphere deepened her gloom.
+
+Her Uncle David arrived in Lady May's carriage, to take care of her.
+They were to call at Lady May's house, where its mistress and Sir
+Richard Arden awaited them.
+
+A few kind words followed Uncle David's affectionate greeting, as they
+drove into town. He did not observe that Alice was unusually low. He
+seemed to have something not very pleasant himself to think upon, and he
+became silent for some time.
+
+"I want," said he at last, looking up suddenly, "to give you a little
+advice, and now mind what I say. Don't sign any legal paper without
+consulting me, and don't make any promise to Richard. It is just
+possible--I hope he may not, but it is just possible--that he may ask
+you to deal in his favour with your charge on the Yorkshire estate. Do
+you tell him if he should, that you have promised me faithfully not to
+do anything in the matter, except as I shall advise. He may, as I said,
+never say a word on the subject, but in any case my advice will do you
+no harm. I have had bitter experience, my dear, of which I begin to grow
+rather ashamed, of the futility of trying to assist Richard. I have
+thrown away a great deal of money upon him, utterly thrown it away. _I_
+can afford it, but _you_ cannot, and you shall not lose your little
+provision." And here he changed the subject of his talk, I suppose to
+avoid the possibility of discussion. "How very early the autumn has set
+in this year! It is the extraordinary heat of the summer. The elms in
+Mortlake are quite yellow already."
+
+And so they talked on, and returned no more to the subject at which he
+had glanced. But the few words her uncle had spoken gave Alice ample
+matter to think on, and she concluded that Richard was in trouble again.
+
+Lady May did not delay them a moment, and Sir Richard got into the
+carriage after her, with the tickets in his charge. Very devoted, Alice
+thought him, to Lady May, who appeared more than usually excited and
+happy.
+
+We follow our party without comment into the choir, where they take
+possession of their seats. The chorus glide into their places like
+shadows, and the vast array of instrumental musicians as noiselessly
+occupy the seats before their desks. The great assembly is marshalled in
+a silence almost oppressive, but which is perhaps the finest preparation
+for the wondrous harmonies to come.
+
+And now the grand and unearthly oratorio has commenced. Each person in
+our little group hears it with different ears. I wonder whether any two
+persons in that vast assembly heard it precisely alike. Sir Richard
+Arden, having many things to think about, hears it intermittently as he
+would have listened to a bore, and with a secret impatience. Lady May
+hears it not much better, but felt as if she could have sat there for
+ever. Old David Arden enjoyed music, and is profoundly delighted with
+this. But his thoughts also begin to wander, for as the mighty basso
+singing the part of Saul delivers the words,
+
+    "I would that, by thy art, thou bring me up
+     The man whom I shall name,"
+
+David Arden's eye lighted, with a little shock, upon the enormous head
+and repulsive features of the Baron Vanboeren. What a mask for a witch!
+The travesti lost its touch of the ludicrous, in Uncle David's eye, by
+virtue of the awful interest he felt in the possible revelations of that
+ugly magician, who could, he fancied, by a word, call up the image of
+Yelland Mace. The baron is sitting about the steps in front of him, face
+to face. He wonders he has not seen him till now. His head is a little
+thrown back, displaying his short bull neck. His restless eyes are fixed
+now in a sullen reverie. His calculation as to the exact money value of
+the audience is over; he is polling them no longer, and his unresting
+brain is projecting pictures into the darkness of the future.
+
+His face in a state of apathy was ill-favoured and wicked, and now
+lighted with a cadaverous effect, by the dull purplish halo which marks
+the blending of the feeble daylight, with the glow of the lamp that is
+above him.
+
+The baron had seen and recognised David Arden, and a train of thoughts
+horribly incongruous with the sacred place was moving through his brain.
+As he looks on, impassive, the great basso rings out--
+
+    "If heaven denies thee aid, seek it from hell."
+
+And the soprano sends forth the answering incantation, wild and
+piercing--
+
+    "Infernal spirits, by whose power
+       Departed ghosts in living forms appear,
+     Add horror to the midnight hour,
+       And chill the boldest hearts with fear;
+     To this stranger's wondering eyes
+       Let the man he calls for rise."
+
+If Mr. Longcluse had been near, he might have made his own sad
+application of the air so powerfully sung by the alto to whom was
+committed the part of David--
+
+    "Such haughty beauties rather move
+     Aversion, than engage our love."
+
+He might with an undivulged anguish have heard the adoring strain--
+
+    "O lovely maid! thy form beheld
+       Above all beauty charms our eyes,
+     Yet still within that form concealed,
+       Thy mind a greater beauty lies."
+
+In a rapture Alice listened on. The famous "Dead March" followed,
+interposing its melancholy instrumentation, and arresting the vocal
+action of the drama by the pomp of that magnificent dirge.
+
+To her the whole thing seemed stupendous, unearthly, glorious beyond
+expression. She almost trembled with excitement. She was glad she had
+come. Tears of ecstasy were in her eyes.
+
+And now, at length, the three parts are over, and the crowd begin to
+move outward. The organ peals as they shuffle slowly along, checked
+every minute, and then again resuming their slow progress, pushing on in
+those little shuffling steps of two or three inches by which well-packed
+crowds get along, every one wondering why they can't all step out
+together, and what the people in front can be about.
+
+In two several channels, through two distinct doors, this great human
+reservoir floods out. Sir Richard has undertaken the task of finding
+Lady May's carriage, and bringing it to a point where they might escape
+the tedious waiting at the door; and David Arden, with Lady May on one
+arm and Alice on the other, is getting on slowly in the thick of this
+well-dressed and aristocratic mob.
+
+"I think, Alice," said Uncle David, "you would be more out of the crush,
+and less likely to lose me, if you were to get quite close behind us--do
+you see?--between Lady May and me, and hold me fast."
+
+The pressure of the stream was so unequal, and a front of three so wide,
+that Alice gladly adopted the new arrangement, and with her hand on her
+uncle's arm, felt safer and more comfortable than before.
+
+This slow march, inch by inch, is strangely interrupted. A well-known
+voice, close to her ear, says--
+
+"Miss Arden, a word with you."
+
+A pale face, with flat nose and Mephistophelian eyebrows, was stooping
+near her. Mr. Longcluse's thin lips were close to her ear. She started a
+little aside, and tried to stop. Recovering, she stretched her hand to
+reach her uncle, and found that there were strangers between them.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER LXI.
+
+A WAKING DREAM.
+
+
+There is something in that pale face and spectral smile that fascinates
+the terrified girl; she cannot take her eyes off him. His dark eyes are
+near hers; his lips are still close to her; his arm is touching her
+dress; he leans his face to her, and talks on, in an icy tone little
+above a whisper, and an articulation so sharply distinct that it seems
+to pain her ear.
+
+"The oratorio!" he continued: "the music! The words, here and there are
+queer--a little sinister--eh? There are better words and wilder
+music--you shall hear them some day! Saul had his evil spirit, and a bad
+family have theirs--ay, they have a demon who is always near, and shapes
+their lives for them; they don't know it, but, sooner or later justice
+catches them. Suppose _I_ am the demon of _your_ family--it is very
+funny, isn't it? I tried to serve you both, but it wouldn't do. I'll set
+about the other thing now: the evil genius of a bad family; I'm
+appointed to that. It almost makes me laugh--such cross-purposes! You're
+frightened? That's a pity; you should have thought of that before. It
+requires some nerve to fight a man like me. I don't threaten you, mind,
+but you are frightened. There is such a thing as getting a dangerous
+fellow bound over to keep the peace. Try that. I should like to have a
+talk with you before his worship in the police-court, across the table,
+with a corps of clever newspaper reporters sitting there. What fun in
+the _Times_ and all the rest next morning."
+
+It is plain to Miss Arden that Mr. Longcluse is speaking all this time
+with suppressed fury, and his countenance expresses a sort of smiling
+hatred that horrifies her.
+
+"I'm not bad at speaking my mind," he continues. "It is unfortunate that
+I am so well thought of and listened to in London. Yes, people mind what
+I say a good deal. I rather think they'll choose to believe _my_ story.
+But there's another way, if you don't like that. Your brother's not
+afraid--_he_'ll protect you. Tell your brother what a miscreant I am,
+and send him to me--do, pray! Nothing on earth I should like better than
+to have a talk with that young gentleman. Do pray, send him, I entreat.
+He'd like satisfaction--ha! ha!--and, by Heaven, I'll give it him! Tell
+him to get his pistols ready; he shall have his shop! Let him come to
+Boulogne, or where he likes--I'll stand it--and I don't think he'll need
+to pay his way back again. He'll stay in France; he'll not walk in at
+your hall-door, and call for luncheon, I promise you. Ha! ha! ha!"
+
+This pale man enjoys her terror cruelly.
+
+"I'm not worthy to speak to you, I believe--eh? That's odd, for the time
+isn't far off when you'll pray to God I may have mercy on you. You had
+no business to encourage me. I'm afraid the crowd is getting on very
+slowly, but I'll try to entertain you: you _are_ such a good listener!"
+
+Miss Arden often wondered afterwards at her own passiveness through all
+this. There were, no doubt, close by, many worthy citizens, fathers of
+families, who would have taken her for a few minutes under their
+protection with honest alacrity. But it was a fascination; her state was
+cataleptic: and she could no more escape than the bird that is throbbing
+in the gaze of a snake. The cold murmur went distinctly on and on:
+
+"Your brother will probably think I should treat you more ceremoniously.
+Don't you agree with him? Pray, do complain to him. Pray, send him to
+me, and I'll thank him for his share in this matter. He wanted to make
+it a match between us--I'm speaking coarsely, for the sake of
+distinctness--till a title turned up. What has become of the title,
+by-the-bye?--I don't see him here. The peer wasn't in the running, after
+all: didn't even start! Ha! ha! ha! Remember me to your brother, pray,
+and tell him the day will come when he'll not need to be reminded of me:
+I'll take care of that. And so Sir Richard is doomed to disappointment!
+It is a world of disappointment. The earl is nowhere! And the proudest
+family on earth--what is left of it--looks a little foolish. And well it
+may: it has many follies to expiate. You had no business encouraging me,
+and you are foolish enough to be terribly afraid now--ha! ha! ha! Too
+late, eh? I daresay you think I'll punish you! Not I! Nothing of the
+sort! I'll never punish anyone. Why should I take that trouble about
+you. Not I: not even your brother. Fate does that. Fate has always been
+kind to me, and hit my enemies pretty hard. You had no business
+encouraging me. Remember this: the day is not far off when you will
+_both_ rue the hour you threw me over!"
+
+She is gazing helplessly into that dreadful face. There is a cruel
+elation in it. He looks on her, I think, with admiration. Mixed with his
+hatred, did there remain a fraction of love?
+
+On a sudden the voice, which was the only sound she heard, was in her
+ear no longer. The face which had transfixed her gaze was gone.
+Longcluse had apparently pushed a way for her to her friends, for she
+found herself again next her Uncle David. Holding his arm fast, she
+looked round quickly for a moment: she saw Mr. Longcluse nowhere. She
+felt on the point of fainting. The scene must have lasted a shorter time
+than she supposed, for her uncle had not missed her.
+
+"My dear, how pale you look! Are you tired?" exclaims Lady May, when
+they have come to a halt at the door.
+
+"Yes, indeed, so she does. Are you ill, dear?" added her uncle.
+
+"No, nothing, thanks, only the crowd. I shall be better immediately."
+And so waiting in the air, near the door, they were soon joined by Sir
+Richard, and in his carriage he and she drove home to Mortlake. Lady
+May, taking hers, went to a tea at old Lady Elverstone's; and David
+Arden, bidding them good-bye, walked homeward across the park.
+
+Richard had promised to spend the evening at Mortlake with her, and side
+by side they were driving out to that sad and sombre scene. As they
+entered the shaded road upon which the great gate of Mortlake opens, the
+setting sun streamed through the huge trunks of the trees, and tinted
+the landscape with a subdued splendour.
+
+"I can't imagine, dear Alice, why you _will_ stay here. It is enough to
+kill you," says Sir Richard, looking out peevishly on the picturesque
+woodlands of Mortlake, and interrupting a long silence. "You never can
+recover your spirits while you stay here. There is Lady May going all
+over the world--I forget where, but she will be at Naples--and she
+absolutely longs to take you with her; and you won't go! I really
+sometimes think you want to make yourself melancholy mad."
+
+"I don't know," said she, waking herself from a reverie in which,
+against the dark background of the empty arches she had left, she still
+saw the white, wicked face that had leaned over her, and heard the low
+murmured stream of insult and menace. "I'm not sure that I shall not be
+worse anywhere else. I don't feel energy to make a change. I can't bear
+the idea of meeting people. By-and-by, in a little time, it will be
+different. For the present, quiet is what I like best. But you, Dick,
+are not looking well, you seem so over-worked and anxious. You really do
+want a little holiday. Why don't you go to Scotland to shoot, or take a
+few weeks' yachting? All your business must be pretty well settled now."
+
+"It will never be settled," he said, a little sourly. "I assure you
+there never was property in such a mess--I mean leases and everything.
+Such drudgery, you have no idea; and I owe a good deal. It has not done
+me any good. I'd rather be as I was before that miserable Derby. I'd
+gladly exchange it all for a clear annuity of a thousand a year."
+
+"Oh! my dear Dick, you can't mean that! All the northern property, and
+this, and Morley?"
+
+"I hate to talk about it. I'm tired of it already. I have been so
+unlucky, so foolish, and if I had not found a very good friend, I should
+have been utterly ruined by that cursed race; and he has been aiding me
+very generously, on rather easy terms, in some difficulties that have
+followed; and you know I had to raise money on the estate before all
+this happened, and have had to make a very heavy mortgage, and I am
+getting into such a mess--a confusion, I mean--and really I should have
+sold the estates, if it had not been for my unknown friend, for I don't
+know his name."
+
+"What friend?"
+
+"The friend who has aided me through my troubles--the best friend I ever
+met, unless it be as I half suspect. Has anyone spoken to you lately, in
+a way to lead you to suppose that he, or anyone else among our friends,
+has been lending me a helping hand?"
+
+"Yes, as we were driving into town to-day, Uncle David told me so
+distinctly; but I am not sure that I ought to have mentioned it. I
+fancy, indeed," she added, as she remembered the reflection with which
+it was accompanied, "that he meant it as a secret, so you must not get
+me into disgrace with him by appearing to know more than he has told you
+himself."
+
+"No, certainly," said Richard; "and he said it was he who lent it?"
+
+"Yes, distinctly."
+
+"Well, I all but knew it before. Of course it is very kind of him. But
+then, you know he is very wealthy; he does not feel it; and he would not
+for the world that our house should lose its position. I think he would
+rather sell the coat off his back, than that our name should be
+slurred."
+
+Sir Richard was pleased that he had received this light in corroboration
+of his suspicions. He was glad to have ascertained that the powerful
+motives which he had conjectured were actually governing the conduct of
+David Arden, although for obvious reasons he did not choose that his
+nephew should be aware of his weakness.
+
+The carriage drew up at the hall-door. The old house in the evening
+beams, looked warm and cheery, and from every window in its broad front
+flamed the reflection which showed like so many hospitable winter fires.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER LXII.
+
+LOVE AND PLAY.
+
+
+"Here we are, Alice," says Sir Richard, as they entered the hall. "We'll
+have a good talk this evening. We'll make the best of everything; and I
+don't see if Uncle David chooses to prevent it, why the old ship should
+founder after all."
+
+They are now in the house. It is hard to get rid of the sense of
+constraint that, in his father's time, he always experienced within
+those walls; to feel that the old influence is exorcised and utterly
+gone, and that he is himself absolute master where so lately he hardly
+ventured to move on tip-toe.
+
+They did not talk so much as Sir Richard had anticipated. There were
+upon his mind some things that weighed heavily. He had got from Levi a
+list of the advances made by his luckily found friend, and the total was
+much heavier than he had expected. He began to fear that he might
+possibly exceed the limits which his uncle must certainly have placed
+somewhere. He might not, indeed, allow him to suffer the indignity of a
+bankruptcy; but he would take a very short and unpleasant course with
+him. He would seize his rents, and, with a friendly roughness, put his
+estates to nurse, and send the prodigal on a Childe Harold's pilgrimage
+of five or six years, with an allowance, perhaps, of some three hundred
+a year, which in his frugal estimate of a young man's expenditure, would
+be handsome.
+
+While he was occupied in these ruminations, Alice cared not to break the
+silence. It was a very unsociable _tete-a-tete_. Alice had a secret of
+her own to brood over. If anything could have made Longcluse now more
+terrible to her imagination, it would have been a risk of her brother's
+knowing anything of the language he had dared to hold to her. She knew
+from her brother's own lips, that he was a duellist; and she was also
+persuaded that Mr. Longcluse was, in his own playful and sinister
+phrase, very literally a "miscreant." His face, ever since that
+interview, was always at her right side, with its cruel pallor, and the
+vindictive sarcasm of lip and tone. How she wished that she had never
+met that mysterious man! What she would have given to be exempted from
+his hatred, and blotted from his remembrance!
+
+One object only was in her mind, distinctly, with respect to that
+person. She was, thank God, quite beyond his power. But men, she knew,
+live necessarily a life so public, and have so many points of contact,
+that better opportunities present themselves for the indulgence of a
+masculine grudge; and she trembled at the thought of a collision. Why,
+then, should not Dick seek a reconciliation with him, and, by any
+honourable means, abate that terrible enmity.
+
+"I have been thinking, Dick, that, as Uncle David makes the interest he
+takes in your affairs a secret, and you can't consult him, it would be
+very well indeed if you could find some one else able to advise, who
+would consult with you when you wished."
+
+"Of course, I should be only too glad," says Sir Richard, yawning and
+smiling as well as he could at the same time; "but an adviser one can
+depend on in such matters, my dear child, is not to be picked up every
+day."
+
+"Poor papa, I think, was very wise in choosing people of that kind.
+Uncle David, I know, said that he made wonderfully good bargains about
+his mortgages, or whatever they are called."
+
+"I daresay--I don't know--he was always complaining, and always changing
+them," says Sir Richard. "But if you can introduce me to a person who
+can disentangle all my complications, and take half my cares off my
+shoulders, I'll say you are a very wise little woman indeed."
+
+"I only know this--that poor papa had the highest opinion of Mr.
+Longcluse, and thought he was the cleverest person, and the most able to
+assist, of any one he knew."
+
+Sir Richard Arden hears this with a stare of surprise.
+
+"My dear Alice, you seem to forget everything. Why, Longcluse and I are
+at deadly feud. He hates me implacably. There never could be anything
+but enmity between us. Not that I care enough about _him_ to hate him,
+but I have the worst opinion of him. I have heard the most shocking
+stories about him lately. They insinuate that he committed a murder! I
+told you of that jealousy and disappointment, about a girl he was in
+love with and wanted to marry, and it ended in _murder_! I'm told he had
+the reputation of being a most unscrupulous villain. They say he was
+engaged in several conspiracies to pigeon young fellows. He was the
+utter ruin, they say, of young Thornley, the poor muff who shot himself
+some years ago; and he was thought to be a principal proprietor of that
+gaming-house in Vienna, where they found all the apparatus for cheating
+so cleverly contrived."
+
+"But are any of these things proved?" urges Miss Arden.
+
+"I don't suppose he would be at large if they were," says Sir Richard,
+with a smile. "I only know that I believe them."
+
+"Well, Dick, you know I reminded you before--you used not to believe
+those stories till you quarrelled with him."
+
+"Why, what do you want, Alice?" he exclaims, looking hard at her. "What
+on earth can you mean? And what can possibly make you take an interest
+in the character of such a ruffian?"
+
+Alice's face grew pale under his gaze. She cleared her voice and looked
+down; and then she looked full at him, with burning eyes, and said--
+
+"It is because I am afraid of him, and think he may do you some dreadful
+injury, unless you are again on terms with him. I can't get it out of my
+head; and I daresay I am wrong, but I am sure I am miserable."
+
+She burst into tears.
+
+"Why, you darling little fool, what harm can he do me?" said Richard
+fondly, throwing his arms about her neck and kissing her, as he laughed
+tenderly. "He exhausted his utmost malice when he angrily refused to
+lend me a shilling in my extremity, or to be of the smallest use to me,
+at a moment when he might have saved me, without risk to himself, by
+simply willing it. _I_ didn't ask him, you may be sure. An officious,
+foolish little friend, doing all, of course, for the best, _did_,
+without once consulting me, or giving me a voice in the matter, until he
+had effectually put his foot in it, as I told you. I would not for
+anything on earth have applied to him, I need not tell you; but it was
+done, and it only shows with what delight he would have seen me ruined,
+as, in fact, I should have been, had not my own relations taken the
+matter up. I do believe, Alice, the best thing I could do for myself and
+for you would be to marry," he says, a little suddenly, after a
+considerable silence.
+
+Alice looks at him, doubtful whether he is serious.
+
+"I really mean it. It is the only honest way of making or mending a
+fortune now-a-days."
+
+"Well, Dick, it is time enough to think of that by-and-by, don't you
+think?"
+
+"Perhaps so; I hope so. At present it seems to me that, as far as I am
+concerned, it is just a race between the bishop and the bailiff which
+shall have me first. If any lady is good enough to hold out a hand to a
+poor drowning fellow, she had better----"
+
+"Take care, Dick, that the poor drowning fellow does not pull her in.
+Don't you think it would be well to consider first what you have got to
+live on?"
+
+"I have plenty to live on; I know that exactly," said Dick.
+
+"What is it?"
+
+"My wife's fortune."
+
+"You are never serious for a minute, Dick! Don't you think it would be
+better first to get matters a little into order, so as to know
+distinctly what you are worth?"
+
+"Quite the contrary; she'd rather not know. She'd rather exercise her
+imagination than learn distinctly what I am worth. Any woman of sense
+would prefer marrying me so."
+
+"I don't understand you."
+
+"Why, if I succeed in making matters quite lucid, I don't think she
+would marry me at all. Isn't it better to say, 'My Angelina,' or
+whatever else it may be, 'you see before you Sir Richard Arden, who has
+estates in Yorkshire, in Middlesex, and in Devonshire, thus spanning all
+England from north to south. We had these estates at the Conquest. There
+is nothing modern about them but the mortgages. I have never been able
+to ascertain exactly what they bring in by way of rents, or pay out by
+way of interest. That I stand here, with flesh upon my bones, and pretty
+well-made clothes, I hope, upon both, is evidence in a confused way that
+an English gentleman--a baronet--can subsist upon them; and this
+magnificent muddle I lay at your feet with the devotion of a passionate
+admirer of your personal--property!' That, I say, is better than
+appearing with a balance-sheet in your hand, and saying, 'Madam, I
+propose marrying you, and I beg to present you with a balance-sheet of
+the incomings and outgoings of my estates, the intense clearness of
+which will, I hope, compensate for the nature of its disclosures. I am
+there shown in the most satisfactory detail to be worth exactly fifteen
+shillings per annum, and how unlimited is my credit will appear from the
+immense amount and variety of my debts. In pressing my suit I rely
+entirely upon your love of perspicuity and your passion for arithmetic,
+which will find in the ledgers of my steward an almost inexhaustible
+gratification and indulgence.' However, as you say, Alice, I have time
+to look about me, and I see you are tired. We'll talk it over to-morrow
+morning at breakfast. Don't think I have made up my mind; I'll do
+exactly whatever you like best. But get to your bed, you poor little
+soul; you do look so tired!"
+
+With great affection they parted for the night. But Sir Richard did not
+meet her at breakfast.
+
+After she had left the room some time, he changed his mind, left a
+message for his sister with old Crozier, ordered his servant and trap to
+the door, and drove into town. It was not his good angel who prompted
+him. He drove to a place where he was sure to find high play going on,
+and there luck did not favour him.
+
+What had become of Sir Richard Arden's resolutions? The fascinations of
+his old vice were irresistible. The ring of the dice, the whirl of the
+roulette, the plodding pillage of whist--any rite acknowledged by
+Fortune, the goddess of his soul, was welcome to that keen worshipper.
+Luck was not always adverse; once or twice he might have retreated in
+comparative safety; but the temptation to "back his luck" and go on
+prevailed, and left him where he was.
+
+About a week after the evening passed at Mortlake, a black and awful
+night of disaster befel him.
+
+Every other extravagance and vice draws its victim on at a regulated
+pace, but this of gaming is an hourly trifling with life, and one
+infatuated moment may end him. How short had been the reign of the new
+baronet, and where were prince and princedom now?
+
+Before five o'clock in the morning, he had twice spent a quarter of an
+hour tugging at Mr. Levi's office-bell, in the dismal old street in
+Westminster. Then he drove off toward his lodgings. The roulette was
+whirling under his eyes whenever for a moment he closed them. He thought
+he was going mad.
+
+The cabman knew a place where, even at that unseasonable hour, he might
+have a warm bath; and thither Sir Richard ordered him to drive. After
+this, he again essayed the Jew's office. The cool early morning was over
+still quiet London--hardly a soul was stirring. On the steps he waited,
+pulling the office-bell at intervals. In the stillness of the morning,
+he could hear it distinctly in the remote room, ringing unheeded in that
+capacious house.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER LXIII.
+
+PLANS.
+
+
+It was, of course, in vain looking for Mr. Levi there at such an hour.
+Sir Richard Arden fancied that he had, perhaps, a sleeping-room in the
+house, and on that chance tried what his protracted alarm might do.
+
+Then he drove to his own house. He had a latch-key, and let himself in.
+Just as he is, he throws himself into a chair in his dressing-room. He
+knows there is no use in getting into his bed. In his fatigued state,
+sleep was quite out of the question. That proud young man was longing to
+open his heart to the mean, cruel little Jew.
+
+Oh, madness! why had he broken with his masterly and powerful friend,
+Longcluse? Quite unavailing now, his repentance. They had spoken and
+passed like ships at sea, in this wide life, and now who could count the
+miles and billows between them! Never to cross or come in sight again!
+
+Uncle David! Yes, he might go to him; he might spread out the broad
+evidences of his ruin before him, and adjure him, by the God of mercy,
+to save him from the great public disgrace that was now imminent;
+implore of him to give him any pittance he pleased, to subsist on in
+exile, and to deal with the estates as he himself thought best. But
+Uncle David was away, quite out of reach. After his whimsical and
+inflexible custom, lest business should track him in his holiday, he had
+left no address with his man of business, who only knew that his first
+destination was Scotland; none with Grace Maubray, who only knew that,
+attended by Vivian Darnley, she and Lady May were to meet him in about a
+fortnight on the Continent, where they were to plan together a little
+excursion in Switzerland or Italy.
+
+Sir Richard quite forgot there was such a meal as breakfast. He ordered
+his horse to the door, took a furious two hours' ride beyond Brompton,
+and returned and saw Levi at his office, at his usual hour, eleven
+o'clock. The Jew was alone. His large lowering eyes were cast on Sir
+Richard as he entered and approached.
+
+"Look, now; listen," says Sir Richard, who looks wofully wild and pale,
+and as he seats himself never takes his eyes off Mr. Levi. "I don't care
+very much who knows it--I think I'm totally _ruined_."
+
+The Jew knows pretty well all about it, but he stares and gapes
+hypocritically in the face of his visitor as if he were thunderstruck,
+and he speaks never a word. I suppose he thought it as well, for the
+sake of brevity and clearness, to allow his client "to let off the
+shteam" first, a process which Sir Richard forthwith commenced, with
+both hands on the table--sometimes clenched, sometimes expanded,
+sometimes with a thump, by blowing off a cloud of oaths and curses, and
+incoherent expositions of the wrongs and perversities of fortune.
+
+"I don't think I can tell you how much it is. I don't know," says Sir
+Richard bleakly, in reply to a pertinent question of the Jew's. "There
+was that rich fellow, what's his name, that makes candles--he's always
+winning. By Jove, what a thing luck is! He won--I know it is more than
+two thousand. I gave him I O U's for it. He'd be very glad, of course,
+to know me, curse him! I don't care, now, who does. And he'd let me owe
+him twice as much, for as long as I like. I daresay, only too glad--as
+smooth as one of his own filthy candles. And there were three fellows
+lending money there. I don't know how much I got--I was stupid. I signed
+whatever they put before me. Those things can't stand, by heavens; the
+Chancellor will set them all aside. The confounded villains! What's the
+Government doing? What's the Government about, I say? Why don't
+Parliament interfere, to smash those cursed nests of robbers and
+swindlers? Here I am, utterly robbed--I know I'm _robbed_--and all by
+that cursed temptation; and--and--and I don't know what cash I got, nor
+what I have put my name to!"
+
+"I'll make out that in an hour's time. They'll tell me at the houshe who
+the shentleman wazh."
+
+"And--upon my soul that's true--I owe the people there something too; it
+can't be much--it isn't much. And, Levi, like a good fellow--by Heaven,
+I'll _never_ forget it to you, if you'll think of something. You've
+pulled me through so often; I am sure there's good-nature in you; you
+wouldn't see a fellow you've known so long driven to the wall and made a
+beggar of, without--without thinking of something."
+
+Levi looked down, with his hands in his pockets, and whistled to
+himself, and Sir Richard gazed on his vulgar features as if his life or
+death depended upon every variation of their expression.
+
+"You know," says Levi, looking up and swaying his shoulders a little,
+"the old chap can't do no more. He's taken a share in that Austrian
+contract, and he'll want his capital, every pig. I told you lasht time.
+Wouldn't Lonclushe give you a lift?"
+
+"Not he. He'd rather give me a shove under."
+
+"Well, they tell me you and him wazh very thick; and your uncle'sh man,
+Blount, knowshe him, and can just ashk him, from himself, mind, not from
+you."
+
+"For money?" exclaimed Richard.
+
+"Not at a--all," drawled the Jew impatiently. "Lishen--mind. The old
+fellow, your friend----"
+
+"He's out of town," interrupted Richard.
+
+"No, he'sh not. I shaw him lasht night. You're a--all wrong. He'sh not
+Mr. David Harden, if that'sh what you mean. He'sh a better friend, and
+he'll leave you a lot of tin when he diesh--an old friend of the
+family--and if all goeshe shmooth he'll come and have a talk with you
+fashe to fashe, and tell you all his plansh about you, before a week'sh
+over. But he'll be at hish lasht pound for five or six weeksh to come,
+till the firsht half-million of the new shtock is in the market; and he
+shaid, 'I can't draw out a pound of my balanshe, but if he can get
+Lonclushe's na--me, I'll get him any shum he wantsh, and bear Lonclushe
+harmlesh.'"
+
+"I don't think I can," said Sir Richard; "I can't be quite sure, though.
+It is just possible he might."
+
+"Well, let Blount try," said he.
+
+There was another idea also in Mr. Levi's head. He had been thinking
+whether the situation might not be turned to some more profitable
+account, for him, than the barren agency for the "friend of the family,"
+who "lent out money gratis," like Antonio; and if he did not "bring down
+the rate of usance," at all events, deprived the Shylocks of London, in
+one instance at least, of their fair game.
+
+"If he won't do that, there'sh but one chansh left."
+
+"What is that?" asked Sir Richard, with a secret flutter at his heart.
+It was awful to think of himself reduced to his last chance, with his
+recent experience of what a chance is.
+
+"Well," says Mr. Levi, scrawling florid capitals on the table with his
+office pen, and speaking with much deliberation, "I heard you were going
+to make a very rich match; and if the shettlementsh was agreed on, I
+don't know but we might shee our way to advancing all you want."
+
+Sir Richard gets up, and walks slowly two or three times up and down the
+room.
+
+"I'll see about Blount," said he; "I'll talk to him. I think those
+things are payable in six or eight days; and that tallow-chandler won't
+bother me to-morrow, I daresay. I'll go to-day and talk to Blount, and
+suppose you come to me to-morrow evening at Mortlake. Will nine o'clock
+do for you? I sha'n't keep you half-an-hour."
+
+"A--all right, Shir--nine, at Mortlake. If you want any diamondsh, I
+have a beoo--ootiful collar and pendantsh, in that shaafe--brilliantsh.
+I can give you the lot three thoushand under cosht prishe. You'll
+wa--ant a preshent for the young la--ady."
+
+"Yes, I suppose so," said Sir Richard, abstractedly. "To-morrow
+night--to-morrow evening at nine o'clock."
+
+He stopped at the door, looking silently down the stairs, and then
+without leave-taking or looking behind him, he ran down, and drove to
+Mr. Blount's house, close by, in Manchester Buildings.
+
+For more than a year the young gentleman whom we are following this
+morning had cherished vague aspirations, of which good Lady May had been
+the object. There was nothing to prevent their union, for the lady was
+very well disposed to listen. But Richard Arden did not like ridicule,
+and there was no need to hurry; and besides, within the last half-year
+had arisen another flame, less mercenary; also, perhaps, reciprocated.
+
+Grace Maubray was handsome, animated; she had that combination of air,
+tact, cleverness, which enter into the idea of _chic_. With him it had
+been a financial, but notwithstanding rather agreeable, speculation.
+Hitherto there seemed ample time before him, and there was no need to
+define or decide.
+
+Now, you will understand, the crisis had arrived, which admitted of
+neither hesitation nor delay. He was now at Blount's hall-door. He was
+certain that he could trust Blount with anything, and he meant to learn
+from him what _dot_ his Uncle David intended bestowing on the young
+lady.
+
+Mr. Blount was at home. He smiled kindly, and took the young gentleman's
+hand, and placed a chair for him.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER LXIV.
+
+FROM FLOWER TO FLOWER.
+
+
+Mr. Blount was intelligent: he was an effective though not an artful
+diplomatist. He promptly undertook to sound Mr. Longcluse without
+betraying Sir Richard.
+
+Richard Arden did not allude to his losses. He took good care to appear
+pretty nearly as usual. When he confessed his _tendresse_ for Miss
+Maubray, the grave gentleman smiled brightly, and took him by the hand.
+
+"If _you_ should marry the young lady, mark you, she will have sixty
+thousand pounds down, and sixty thousand more after Mr. David Arden's
+death. That is splendid, Sir, and I think it will please him _very_
+much."
+
+"I have suffered a great deal, Mr. Blount, by neglecting his advice
+hitherto. It shall be my chief object, henceforward, to reform, and to
+live as he wishes. I believe people can't learn wisdom without
+suffering."
+
+"Will you take a biscuit and a glass of sherry, Sir Richard?" asked Mr.
+Blount.
+
+"Nothing, thanks," said Sir Richard. "You know, I'm not as rich as I
+might have been, and marriage is a very serious step; and you are one of
+the oldest and most sensible friends I have, and you'll understand that
+it is only right I should be very sure before taking such a step,
+involving not myself only, but another who ought to be dearer still,
+that there should be no mistake about the means on which we may reckon.
+Are you quite sure that my uncle's intentions are still exactly what you
+mentioned?"
+
+"Perfectly; he authorised me to say so two months ago, and on the eve of
+his departure on Friday last he repeated his instructions."
+
+Sir Richard, in silence, shook the old man very cordially by the hand,
+and was gone.
+
+As he drove to his house in May Fair, Sir Richard's thoughts, among
+other things, turned again upon the question, "Who could his mysterious
+benefactor be?"
+
+Once or twice had dimly visited his mind a theory which, ever since his
+recent conversation with Mr. Levi, had been growing more solid and
+vivid. An illegitimate brother of his father's, Edwin Raikes, had gone
+out to Australia early in life, with a purse to which three brothers,
+the late Sir Reginald, Harry, and David, had contributed. He had not
+maintained any correspondence with English friends and kindred; but
+rumours from time to time reached home that he had amassed a fortune.
+His feelings to the family of Arden had always been kindly. He was older
+than Uncle David, and had well earned a retirement from the life of
+exertion and exile which had consumed all the vigorous years of his
+manhood. Was this the "old party" for whom Mr. Levi was acting?
+
+With this thought opened a new and splendid hope upon the mind of Sir
+Richard. Here was a fortune, if rumour spoke truly, which, combined with
+David Arden's, would be amply sufficient to establish the old baronetage
+upon a basis of solid magnificence such as it had never rested on
+before.
+
+It would not do, however, to wait for this. The urgency of the situation
+demanded immediate action. Sir Richard made an elaborate toilet, after
+which, in a hansom, he drove to Lady May Penrose's.
+
+If our hero had had fewer things to think about he would have gone
+first, I fancy, to Miss Grace Maubray. It could do no great harm,
+however, to feel his way a little with Lady May, he thought, as he
+chatted with that plump alternative of his tender dilemma. But in this
+wooing there was a difficulty of a whimsical kind. Poor Lady May was so
+easily won, and made so many openings for his advances, that he was at
+his wits' end to find evasions by which to postpone the happy crisis
+which she palpably expected. He did succeed, however; and with a promise
+of calling again, with the lady's permission, that evening, he took his
+leave.
+
+Before making his call at his uncle's house, in the hope of seeing Grace
+Maubray, he had to return to Mr. Blount, in Manchester Buildings, where
+he hoped to receive from that gentleman a report of his interview with
+Mr. Longcluse.
+
+I shall tell you here what that report related. Mr. Longcluse was
+fortunately still at his house when Mr. Blount called, and immediately
+admitted him. Mr. Longcluse's horse and groom were at the door; he was
+on the point of taking his ride. His gloves and whip were beside him on
+the table as Mr. Blount entered.
+
+Mr. Blount made his apologies, and was graciously received. His visit
+was, in truth, by no means unwelcome.
+
+"Mr. David Arden very well, I hope?"
+
+"Quite well, thanks. He has left town."
+
+"Indeed! And where has he gone--the moors?"
+
+"To Scotland, but not to shoot, I think. And he's going abroad
+then--going to travel."
+
+"On the Continent? How nice that is! What part?"
+
+"Switzerland and Italy, I think," said Mr. Blount, omitting all mention
+of Paris, where Mr. Arden was going first to make a visit to the Baron
+Vanboeren.
+
+"He's going over ground that I know very well," said Mr. Longcluse.
+"Happy man! He can't quite break away from his business, though, I
+daresay."
+
+"He never tells us where a letter will find him, and the consequence is
+his holidays are never spoiled."
+
+"Not a bad plan, Mr. Blount. Won't he visit the Paris Exhibition?"
+
+"I rather think not."
+
+"Can I do anything for you, Mr. Blount?"
+
+"Well, Mr. Longcluse, I just called to ask you a question. I have been
+invited to take part in arranging a little matter which I take an
+interest in, because it affects the Arden estates."
+
+"Is Sir Richard Arden interested in it?" inquired Mr. Longcluse, gently
+and coldly.
+
+"Yes, I rather fancy he would be benefited."
+
+"I have had a good deal of unpleasantness, and, I might add, a great
+deal of ingratitude from that quarter, and I have made up my mind never
+again to have anything to do with him or his affairs. I have no
+unpleasant _feeling_, you understand; no resentment; there is nothing,
+of course, he could say or do that could in the least affect me. It is
+simply that, having coolly reviewed his conduct, I have quite made up my
+mind to aid in nothing in which he has act, part, or interest."
+
+"It was not _directly_, but simply as a surety----"
+
+"All the same, so far as I'm concerned," said Mr. Longcluse sharply.
+
+"And only, I fancied, it might be, as Mr. David Arden is absent, and you
+should be protected by satisfactory joint security----"
+
+"I won't do it," said Mr. Longcluse, a little brusquely; and he took out
+his watch and glanced at it impatiently.
+
+"Sir Richard, I think, will be in funds immediately," said Mr. Blount.
+
+"How so?" asked Mr. Longcluse. "You'll excuse me, as you press the
+subject, for saying _that_ will be something new."
+
+"Well," said Mr. Blount, who saw that his last words had made an
+impression, "Sir Richard is likely to be married, very advantageously,
+immediately."
+
+"Are settlements agreed on?" inquired Mr. Longcluse, with real interest.
+
+"No, not yet; but I know all about them."
+
+"He is accepted then?"
+
+"He has not proposed yet; but there can be, I fancy, no doubt that the
+lady likes him, and all will go right."
+
+"Oh! and who is the lady?"
+
+"I'm not at liberty to tell."
+
+"Quite right; I ought not to have asked," says Mr. Longcluse; and looks
+down, slapping at intervals the side of his trousers lightly with his
+whip. He raises his eyes to Mr. Blount's face, and looks on the point of
+asking another question, but he does not.
+
+"It is my opinion," said Mr. Blount, "the kindness would involve
+absolutely no risk whatever."
+
+There was a little pause. Mr. Longcluse looks rather dark and anxious;
+perhaps his mind has wandered quite from the business before them. But
+it returns, and he says,--
+
+"Risk or no risk, Mr. Blount, I don't mean to do him that kindness; and
+for how long will Mr. David Arden be absent?"
+
+"Unless he should take a sudden thought to return, he'll be away at
+least two months."
+
+"Where is he?--in Scotland?"
+
+"I _really_ don't know."
+
+"Couldn't one see him for a few minutes before he starts? Where does he
+take the steamer?"
+
+"Southampton."
+
+"And on what day?"
+
+"You really want a word with him?" asked Blount, whose hopes revived.
+
+"I may."
+
+"Well, the only person who will know that is Mr. Humphries, of Pendle
+Castle, near that town; for he has to transact some trust-business with
+that gentleman as he passes through."
+
+"Humphries, of Pendle Castle. Very good; thanks."
+
+Mr. Longcluse looks again at his watch.
+
+"And perhaps you will reconsider the matter I spoke of?"
+
+"No use, Mr. Blount--not the least. I have quite made up my mind.
+Anything more? I am afraid I must be off."
+
+"Nothing, thanks," said Mr. Blount.
+
+And so the interview ended.
+
+When he was gone, Mr. Longcluse thought darkly for a minute.
+
+"That's a straightforward fellow, they say. I suppose the facts are so.
+It can't be, though, that Miss Maubray, that handsome creature with so
+much money, is thinking of marrying that insolent coxcomb. It may be
+Lady May, but the other is more likely. We must not allow _that_, Sir
+Richard. That would never do."
+
+There was a fixed frown on his face, and he was smiling in his dream.
+Out he went. His pale face looked as if he meditated a wicked joke, and,
+frowning still in utter abstraction, he took the bridle from his groom,
+mounted, looked about him as if just wakened, and set off at a canter,
+followed by his servant, for David Arden's house.
+
+Smiling, gay, as if no care had ever crossed him, Longcluse enters the
+drawing-room, where he finds the handsome young lady writing a note at
+that moment.
+
+"Mr. Longcluse, I'm so glad you've come!" she says, with a brilliant
+smile. "I was writing to poor Lady Ethel, who is mourning, you know, in
+the country. The death of her father in the house was so awfully sudden,
+and I'm telling her all the news I can think of to amuse her. And is it
+really true that old Sir Thomas Giggles has grown so cross with his
+pretty young wife, and objects to her allowing Lord Knocknea to make
+love to her?"
+
+"Quite true. It is a very bad quarrel, and I'm afraid it can't be made
+up," said Mr. Longcluse.
+
+"It must be very bad, indeed, if Sir Thomas can't make it up; for he
+allowed his first wife, I am told, to do anything she pleased. Is it to
+be a separation?"
+
+"At _least_. And you heard, I suppose, of poor old Lady Glare?"
+
+"No!"
+
+"She has been rolling ever so long, you know, in a sea of troubles, and
+now, at last, she has fairly foundered."
+
+"How do you mean?"
+
+"They have sold her diamonds," said Mr. Longcluse. "Didn't you hear?"
+
+"No! Really? Sold her diamonds? Good Heaven! Then there's nothing left
+of her but her teeth. I hope they won't sell them."
+
+"It is an awful misfortune," said Mr. Longcluse.
+
+"Misfortune! She's utterly ruined. It was her diamonds that people
+asked. I am really sorry. She was such fun; she was so fat, and such a
+fool, and said such delicious things, and dressed herself so like a
+macaw. Alas! I shall never see her more; and people thought her only use
+on earth was to carry about her diamonds. No one seemed to perceive what
+a delightful creature she was. What about Lady May Penrose? I have not
+seen her since I came back from Cowes, the day before yesterday, and we
+leave London together on Tuesday."
+
+"Lady May! Oh! she is to receive a very interesting communication, I
+believe. She is one name on a pretty long and very distinguished list,
+which Sir Richard Arden, I am told, has made out, and carries about with
+him in his pocket-book."
+
+"You're talking riddles; pray speak plainly."
+
+"Well, Lady May is one of several ladies who are to be honoured with a
+proposal."
+
+"And would you have me believe that Sir Richard Arden has really made
+such a fool of himself as to make out a list of eligible ladies whom he
+is about to ask to marry him, and that he has had the excellent good
+sense and taste to read this list to his acquaintance?"
+
+"I mean to say this--I'll tell the whole story--Sir Richard has ruined
+himself at play; take that as a fact to start with. He is literally
+ruined. His uncle is away; but I don't think any man in his senses would
+think of paying his losses for him. He turns, therefore, naturally, to
+the more amiable and less arithmetical sex, and means to invite, in
+turn, a series of fair and affluent admirers to undertake, by means of
+suitable settlements, that interesting office for him."
+
+"I don't think you like him, Mr. Longcluse; is not that a story a little
+too like 'The Merry Wives of Windsor?'"
+
+"It is quite certain I don't like him, and it is quite certain," added
+Mr. Longcluse, with one of his cold little laughs, "that if I did like
+him, I should not tell the story; but it is also certain that the story
+is, in all its parts, strictly fact. If you permit me the pleasure of a
+call in two or three days, you will tell me you no longer doubt it."
+
+Mr. Longcluse was looking down as he said that with a gentle and smiling
+significance. The young lady blushed a little, and then more intensely,
+as he spoke, and looking through the window, asked with a laugh,--
+
+"But how shall we know whether he really speaks to Lady May?"
+
+"Possibly by his marrying her," laughed Mr. Longcluse. "He certainly
+will if he can, unless he is caught and married on the way to her
+house."
+
+"He was a little unfortunate in showing you his list, wasn't he?" said
+Grace Maubray.
+
+"I did not say that. If there had been any, the least, confidence,
+nothing on earth could have induced me to divulge it. We are not even,
+at present, on speaking terms. He had the coolness to send a Mr. Blount,
+who transacts all Mr. David Arden's affairs, to ask me to become his
+security, Mr. Arden being away; and by way of inducing me to do so, he
+disclosed, with the coarseness which is the essence of business, the
+matrimonial schemes which are to recoup, within a few days, the losses
+of the roulette, the whist-table, or the dice-box."
+
+"Oh! Mr. Blount, I'm told, is a very honest man."
+
+"Quite so; particularly accurate, and I don't think anything on earth
+would induce him to tell an untruth," testifies Mr. Longcluse.
+
+After a little pause, Miss Maubray laughs.
+
+"One certainly does learn," she said, "something new every day. Could
+any one have fancied a _gentleman_ descending to so gross a meanness?"
+
+"Everybody is a gentleman now-a-days," remarked Mr. Longcluse with a
+smile; "but every one is not a hero--they give way, more or less, under
+temptation. Those who stand the test of the crucible and the furnace are
+seldom met with."
+
+At this moment the door opened, and Lord Wynderbroke was announced. A
+little start, a lighting of the eyes, as Grace rose, and a fluttered
+advance, with a very pretty little hand extended, to meet him,
+testified, perhaps, rather more surprise than one would have quite
+expected. For Mr. Longcluse, who did not know him so well as Miss
+Maubray, recognised his voice, which was peculiar, and resembling the
+caw of a jay, as he put a question to the servant on his way up.
+
+Mr. Longcluse took his leave. He was not sorry that Lord Wynderbroke had
+called. He wished no success to Sir Richard's wooing. He thought he had
+pretty well settled the question in Miss Maubray's mind, and smiling, he
+rode at a pleasant canter to Lady May's. It was as well, perhaps, that
+she should hear the same story. Lady May, however, unfortunately, had
+just gone out for a drive.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER LXV.
+
+BEHIND THE ARRAS.
+
+
+It was quite true that Lady May was not at home. She was actually, with
+a little charming palpitation, driving to pay a very interesting visit
+to Grace Maubray. In affairs of the kind that now occupied her mind, she
+had no confidants but very young people.
+
+Miss Maubray was at home--and instantly Lady May's plump instep was seen
+on the carriage step. She disdained assistance, and descended with a
+heavy skip upon the flags, where she executed an involuntary frisk that
+carried her a little out of the line of advance.
+
+As she ascended the stairs, she met her friend Lord Wynderbroke coming
+down. They stopped for a moment on the landing, under a picture of Cupid
+and Venus; Lady May, smiling, remarked, a little out of breath, what a
+charming day it was, and expressed her amazement at seeing him in
+town--a surprise which he agreeably reciprocated. He had been at
+Glenkiltie in the Highlands, where he had accidentally met Mr. David
+Arden. "Miss Maubray is in the drawing-room," he said, observing that
+the eyes of the good lady glanced unconsciously upward at the door of
+that room. And then they parted affectionately, and turned their backs
+on each other with a sense of relief.
+
+"Well, my dear," she said to Grace Maubray as soon as they had kissed,
+"longing to have a few minutes with you, with ever so much to say. You
+have no idea what it is to be stopped on the stairs by that tiresome
+man--I'll never quarrel with you again for calling him a bore. No
+matter, here I am; and really, my dear, it _is_ such an odd affair--not
+quite that; such an odd scene, I don't know where or how to begin."
+
+"I wish I could help you," said Miss Maubray laughing.
+
+"Oh, my dear, you'd never guess in a hundred years."
+
+"How do you know? Hasn't a certain baronet something to do with it?"
+
+"Well, well--dear me! That is _very_ extraordinary. Did he tell you he
+was going to--to--Good gracious! My dear, it _is_ the most extraordinary
+thing. I believe you hear everything; but--a--but _listen_. Not an hour
+ago he came--Richard Arden, of course, we mean--and, my dear Grace, he
+spoke so very nicely of his troubles, poor fellow, you know--debts I
+mean, of course--not the least his fault, and all that kind of thing,
+and--he went on--I really don't know how to tell you. But he said--he
+said--he said he liked me, and no one else on earth; and he was on the
+very point of saying _everything_, when, just at that moment, who should
+come in but that gossiping old woman, Lady Botherton--and he whispered,
+as he was going, that he would return, after I had had my drive. The
+carriage was at the door, so, when I got rid of the old woman, I got
+into it, and came straight here to have a talk with you; and what do you
+think I ought to say? Do tell me, like a darling, do!"
+
+"I wish you would tell _me_ what one ought to say to that question,"
+said Grace Maubray with a slight disdain (that young lady was in the
+most unreasonable way piqued), "for I'm told he's going to ask me
+precisely the same question."
+
+"_You_, my dear?" said Lady May after a pause, during which she was
+staring at the smiling face of the young lady; "you can't be serious!"
+
+"_He_ can't be serious, you mean," answered the young lady, "and--who's
+this?" she broke off, as she saw a cab drive up to the hall-door. "Dear
+me! is it? No. Yes, indeed, it is Sir Richard Arden. We must not be seen
+together. He'll know you have been talking to me. Just go in here."
+
+She opened the door of the boudoir adjoining the room.
+
+"I'll send him away in a moment. You may hear every word I have to say.
+I should like it. I shall give him a lecture."
+
+As she thus spoke she heard his step on the stair, and motioned Lady May
+into the inner room, into which she hurried and closed the door, leaving
+it only a little way open.
+
+These arrangements are hardly completed when Sir Richard is announced.
+Grace is positively angry. But never had she looked so beautiful; her
+eyes so tenderly lustrous under their long lashes; her colour so
+brilliant--an expression so maidenly and sad. If it was acting, it was
+very well done. You would have sworn that the melancholy and agitation
+of her looks, and the slightly quickened movement of her breathing, were
+those of a person who felt that the hour of her fate had come.
+
+With what elation Richard Arden saw these beautiful signs!
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER LXVI.
+
+A BUBBLE BROKEN.
+
+
+After a few words had been exchanged, Grace said in reply to a question
+of Sir Richard's,--
+
+"Lady May and I are going together, you know: in a day or two we shall
+be at Brighton. I mean to bid Alice good-bye to-day. There--I mean at
+Brighton--we are to meet Vivian Darnley, and possibly another friend;
+and we go to meet your uncle at that pretty little town in Switzerland,
+where Lady May----I wonder, by-the-bye, you did not arrange to come with
+us; Lady May travels with us the entire time. She says there are some
+very interesting ruins there."
+
+"Why, dear old soul!" said Sir Richard, who felt called upon to say
+something to set himself right with respect to Lady May, "she's thinking
+of quite another place. She will be herself the only interesting ruin
+there."
+
+"I think you wish to vex me," said pretty Grace, turning away with a
+smile, which showed, nevertheless, that this kind of joke was not an
+unmixed vexation to her. "I don't care for ruins myself."
+
+"Nor do I," he said, archly.
+
+"But you don't think so of Lady May. I know you don't. You are franker
+with her than with me, and you tell her a very different tale."
+
+"I must be very frank, then, if I tell her more than I know myself. I
+never said a civil thing of Lady May, except once or twice, to the poor
+old thing herself, when I wanted her to do one or two little things, to
+please _you_."
+
+"Oh! come, you can't deceive me; I've seen you place your hand to your
+heart, like a theatrical hero, when you little fancied any one but she
+saw it."
+
+"Now, really, that is too bad. I may have put my hand to my side, when
+it ached from laughing."
+
+"How can you talk so? You know very well I have heard you tell her how
+you admire her music and her landscapes."
+
+"No, no--not landscapes--she paints faces. But her colouring is, as
+artists say, too chalky--and nothing but red and white, like--what is it
+like?--like a clown. Why did not she get the late Mr. Etty--she's always
+talking of him--to teach her something of his tints?"
+
+"You are not to speak so of Lady May. You forget she is my particular
+friend," says the young lady; but her pretty face does not express so
+much severity as her words. "I do think you like her. You merely talk so
+to throw dust in people's eyes. Why should not you be frank with me?"
+
+"I wish I dare be frank with you," said Sir Richard.
+
+"And why not?"
+
+"How can I tell how my disclosures might be punished? My frankness might
+extinguish the best hope I live for; a few rash words might make me a
+very unhappy man for life."
+
+"Really? Then I can quite understand that reflection alarming you in the
+midst of a _tete-a-tete_ with Lady May; and even interrupting an
+interesting conversation."
+
+Sir Richard looked at her quickly, but her looks were perfectly artless.
+
+"I really do wish you would spare me all further allusion to that good
+woman. I can bear that kind of fun from any one but you. Why will you?
+she is old enough to be my mother. She is fat, and painted, and
+ridiculous. You think me totally without romance? I wish to heaven I
+were. There is a reason, that makes your saying all that particularly
+cruel. I am not the sordid creature you take me for. I'm not insensible.
+I'm not a mere stock of stone. Never was human being more capable of the
+wildest passion. Oh, if I dare tell you all!"
+
+Was all this acting? Certainly not. Never was shallow man, for the
+moment, more in earnest. Cool enough he was, although he had always
+admired this young lady, when he entered the room. He had made that
+entrance, nevertheless, in a spirit quite dramatic. But Miss Maubray
+never looked so brilliant, never half so tender. He took fire--the
+situation aiding quite unexpectedly--and the flame was real. It might
+have been over as quickly as a balloon on fire; but for the moment the
+conflagration was intense.
+
+How was Miss Maubray affected? An immensely abler performer than the
+young gentleman who had entered the room with his part at his fingers'
+ends, and all his looks and emphasis arranged--only to break through all
+this, and begin extemporising wildly--she, on the contrary, maintained
+her _role_ with admirable coolness. It was not, perhaps, so easy; for
+notwithstanding appearances, her histrionic powers were severely tasked;
+for never was she more angry. Her self-esteem was wounded; the fancy (it
+was no more), she had cherished for him was gone, and a great disgust
+was there instead.
+
+"You shall ask me no questions till I have done asking mine," said the
+young lady, with decision; "and I will speak as much as I please of Lady
+May!"
+
+This jealousy flattered Sir Richard.
+
+"And I will say this," continued Grace Maubray, "you never address her
+except as a lover, in what you romantic people would call the language
+of love."
+
+"Now, now, now! How can you say that? Is that fair?"
+
+"You do."
+
+"No, really, I swear--that's _too_ bad!"
+
+"Yes, the other day, when you spoke to her at the carriage window--you
+did not think I heard--you accused her so tenderly of having failed to
+go to Lady Harbroke's garden-party, and you couldn't say what you meant
+in plain terms, but you said, 'Why were you false?'"
+
+"I didn't, I swear."
+
+"Oh! you did; I heard every syllable; 'false' was the word."
+
+"Well, if I said 'false,' I must have been thinking of her hair; for she
+is really a very honest old woman."
+
+At this moment a female voice in distress is heard, and poor Lady May
+comes pushing out of the pretty little room, in which Grace Maubray had
+placed her, sobbing and shedding floods of tears.
+
+"I can't stay there any longer, for I hear everything; I can't help
+hearing every word--honest old woman, and all--opprobrious. Oh! how
+_can_ people be so? how _can_ they? Oh! I'm very angry--I'm very
+angry--I'm very angry!"
+
+If Miss Maubray were easily moved to pity she might have been at sight
+of the big innocent eyes turned up at her, from which rolled great
+tears, making visible channels through the paint down her cheeks. She
+sobbed and wept like a fat, good-natured child, and pitifully she
+continued sobbing, "Oh, I'm a-a-ho--very angry; wha-at shall I do-o-o,
+my dear? I-I'm very angry--oh, oh--I'm very a-a-angry!"
+
+"So am I," said Grace Maubray, with a fiery glance at the young baronet,
+who stood fixed where he was, like an image of death; "and I had
+intended, dear Lady May, telling you a thing which Sir Richard Arden may
+as well hear, as I mean to write to tell Alice to-day; it is that I am
+to be married--I have accepted Lord Wynderbroke--and--and that's all."
+
+Sir Richard, I believe, said "Good-bye." Nobody heard him. I don't think
+he remembers how he got on his horse. I don't think the ladies saw him
+leave the room--only, he was gone.
+
+Poor Lady May takes her incoherent leave. She has got her veil over her
+face, to baffle curiosity. Miss Maubray stands at the window, the tip of
+her finger to her brilliant lip, contemplating Lady May as she gets in
+with a great jerk and swing of the carriage, and she hears the footman
+say "Home," and sees a fat hand, in a lilac glove, pull up the window
+hurriedly. Then she sits down on a sofa, and laughs till she quivers
+again, and tears overflow her eyes; and she says in the intervals,
+almost breathlessly,--
+
+"Oh, poor old thing! I really am sorry. Who could have thought she cared
+so much? Poor old soul! what a ridiculous old thing!"
+
+Such broken sentences of a rather contemptuous pity rolled and floated
+along the even current of her laughter.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER LXVII.
+
+BOND AND DEED.
+
+
+The summer span of days was gone; it was quite dark, and long troops of
+withered leaves drifted in rustling trains over the avenue, as Mr. Levi,
+observant of his appointment, drove up to the grand old front of
+Mortlake, which in the dark spread before him like a house of white
+mist.
+
+"I shay," exclaimed Mr. Levi, softly, arresting the progress of the
+cabman, who was about running up the steps, "I'll knock myshelf--wait
+you there."
+
+Mr. Levi was smoking. Standing at the base of the steps, he looked up,
+and right and left with some curiosity. It was too dark; he could hardly
+see the cold glimmer of the windows that reflected the grey horizon.
+Vaguely, however, he could see that it was a grander place than he had
+supposed. He looked down the avenue, and between the great trees over
+the gate he saw the distant lights, and heard through the dim air the
+chimes, far off, from London steeples, succeeding one another, or
+mingling faintly, and telling all whom it might concern the solemn
+lesson of the flight of time.
+
+Mr. Levi thought it might be worth while coming down in the day-time,
+and looking over the house and place to see what could be made of them;
+the thing was sure to go a dead bargain. At present he could see nothing
+but the wide, vague, grey front, and the faint glow through the hall
+windows, which showed their black outlines sharply enough.
+
+"Well, _he_'sh come a mucker, anyhow," murmured Mr. Levi, with one of
+his smiles that showed so wide his white sharp teeth.
+
+He knocked at the door and rang the bell. It was not a footman, but
+Crozier who opened it. The old servant of the family did not like the
+greasy black curls, the fierce jet eyes, the sallow face and the large,
+moist, sullen mouth, that presented themselves under the brim of Mr.
+Levi's hat, nor the tawdry glimmer of chains on his waistcoat, nor the
+cigar still burning in his fingers. Sir Richard had told Crozier,
+however, that a Mr. Levi, whom he described, was to call at a certain
+hour, on very particular business, and was to be instantly admitted.
+
+Mr. Levi looks round him, and extinguishes his cigar before following
+Crozier, whose countenance betrays no small contempt and dislike, as he
+eyes the little man askance, as if he would like well to be uncivil to
+him.
+
+Crozier leads him to the right, through a small apartment, to a vast
+square room, long disused, still called the library, though but few
+books remain on the shelves, and those in disorder. It is a chilly
+night, and a little fire burns in the grate, over which Sir Richard is
+cowering. Very haggard, the baronet starts up as the name of his visitor
+is announced.
+
+"Come in," cries Sir Richard, walking to meet him. "Here--here I am,
+Levi, utterly ruined. There isn't a soul I dare tell how I am beset, or
+anything to, but you. Do, for God's sake take pity on me, and think of
+something! my brain's quite gone--you're such a clever fellow" (he is
+dragging Levi by the arm all this time towards the candles): "do now,
+you're sure to see some way out. It is a matter of _honour_; I only want
+time. If I could only find my Uncle David: think of his
+selfishness--good heaven! was there ever man so treated? and there's the
+bank letter--_there_--on the table; you see it--dunning me, the
+ungrateful harpies, for the trifle--what is it?--three hundred and
+something, I overdrew; and that blackguard tallow-chandler has been
+three times to my house in town, for payment to-day, and it's more than
+I thought--near four thousand, he says--the scoundrel! It's just the
+same to him two months hence; he's full of money, the beast--a fellow
+like that--it's delight to him to get hold of a gentleman, and he won't
+take a bill--the lying rascal! He is pressed for cash just now--a
+pug-faced villain with three hundred thousand pounds! Those scoundrels!
+I mean the people, whatever they are, that lent me the money; it turns
+out it was all but at sight, and they were with my attorney to-day, and
+they won't wait. I wish I was shot; I envy the dead dogs rolling in the
+Thames! By heaven; Levi, I'll say you're the best friend man ever had on
+earth, I will, if you manage something! I'll never forget it to you;
+I'll have it in my power, yet! no one ever said I was ungrateful; I
+swear I'll be the making of you! _Do_, Levi, think; you're accustomed
+to--to emergency, and unless you will, I'm utterly ruined--ruined, by
+heaven, before I have time to think!"
+
+The Jew listened to all this with his hands in his pockets, leaning back
+in his chair, with his big eyes staring on the wild face of the baronet,
+and his heavy mouth hanging. He was trying to reduce his countenance to
+vacancy.
+
+"What about them shettlements, Sir Richard--a nishe young lady with a
+ha-a-tful o' money?" insinuated Levi.
+
+"I've been thinking over that, but it wouldn't do, with my affairs in
+this state, it would not be honourable or straight. Put that quite
+aside."
+
+Mr. Levi gaped at him for a moment solemnly, and turned suddenly, and,
+brute as he was, spit on the Turkey carpet. He was not, as you perceive,
+ceremonious; but he could not allow the baronet to see the laughter that
+without notice caught him for a moment, and could think of no better way
+to account for his turning away his head.
+
+"That'sh wery honourable indeed," said the Jew, more solemn than ever;
+"and if you can't play in that direction, I'm afraid you're in queer
+shtreet."
+
+The baronet was standing before Levi, and at these words from that dirty
+little oracle, a terrible chill stole up from his feet to the crown of
+his head. Like a frozen man he stood there, and the Jew saw that his
+very lips were white. Sir Richard feels, for the first time, actually,
+that he is ruined.
+
+The young man tries to speak, twice. The big eyes of the Jew are staring
+up at the contortion. Sir Richard can see nothing but those two big
+fiery eyes; he turns quickly away and walks to the end of the room.
+
+"There's just one fiddle-string left to play on," muses the Jew.
+
+"For God's sake!" exclaims Sir Richard, turning about, in a voice you
+would not have known, and for fully a minute the room was so silent you
+could scarcely have believed that two men were breathing in it.
+
+"Shir Richard, will you be so good as to come nearer a bit? There,
+that'sh the cheeshe. I brought thish 'ere thing."
+
+It is a square parchment with a good deal of printed matter, and blanks,
+written in, and a law stamp fixed with an awful regularity, at the
+corner.
+
+"Casht your eye over it," says Levi, coaxingly, as he pushes it over the
+table to the young gentleman, who is sitting now at the other side.
+
+The young man looks at it, reads it, but just then, if it had been a
+page of "Robinson Crusoe," he could not have understood it.
+
+"I'm not quite myself, I can't follow it; too much to think of. What is
+it?"
+
+"A bond and warrant to confess judgment."
+
+"What is it for?"
+
+"Ten thoushand poundsh."
+
+"Sign it, shall I? Can you do anything with it?"
+
+"Don't raishe your voishe, but lishten. Your friend"--and at the phrase
+Mr. Levi winked mysteriously--"has enough to do it twishe over; and upon
+my shoul, I'll shwear on the book, azh I hope to be shaved, it will
+never shee the light; he'll never raishe a pig on it, sho' 'elp me, nor
+let it out of hish 'ands, till he givesh it back to you. He can't ma-ake
+no ushe of it; I knowshe him well, and he'll pay you the ten thoushand
+to-morrow morning, and he wantsh to shake handsh with you, and make
+himself known to you, and talk a bit."
+
+"But--but my signature wouldn't satisfy him," began Sir Richard
+bewildered.
+
+"Oh! _no_--no, no?" murmured Mr. Levi, fiddling with the corner of the
+bank's reminder which lay on the table.
+
+"Mr. Longcluse won't sign it," said Sir Richard.
+
+Mr. Levi threw himself back in his chair, and looked with a roguish
+expression still upon the table, and gave the corner of the note a
+little fillip.
+
+"Well," said Levi, after both had been some time silent, "it ain't much,
+only to write his name on the penshil line, _there_, you see, and
+_there_--he shouldn't make no bonesh about it. Why, it's done every day.
+Do you think I'd help in a thing of the short if there was any danger?
+The Sheneral's come to town, is he? What are you afraid of? Don't you be
+a shild--ba-ah!"
+
+All this Mr. Levi said so low that it was as if he were whispering to
+the table, and he kept looking down as he put the parchment over to Sir
+Richard, who took it in his hand, and the bond trembled so much that he
+set it down again.
+
+"Leave it with me," he said faintly.
+
+Levi got up with an unusual hectic in each cheek, and his eyes very
+brilliant.
+
+"I'll meet you what time you shay to-night; you had besht take a little
+time. It'sh ten now. Three hoursh will do it. I'll go on to my offish by
+one o'clock, and you come any time from one to two."
+
+Sir Richard was trembling.
+
+"Between one and two, mind. Hang it! Shir Richard, don't you be a fool
+about nothing," whispers the Jew, as black as thunder.
+
+He is fumbling in his breast-pocket, and pulling out a sheaf of letters;
+he selects one, which he throws upon the parchment that lies open on the
+table.
+
+"That'sh the note you forgot in my offish yeshterday, with hish name
+shined to it. There, now you have everything."
+
+Without any form of valediction, the Jew had left the room. Sir Richard
+sits with his teeth set, and a strange frown upon his face, scarcely
+breathing. He hears the cab drive away. Before him on the table lie the
+papers.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER LXVIII.
+
+SIR RICHARD'S RESOLUTION.
+
+
+Two hours had passed, and more, of solitude. With a candle in his hand,
+and his hat and great-coat on, Sir Richard Arden came out into the hall.
+His trap awaited him at the door.
+
+In the interval of his solitude, something incredible has happened to
+him. It is over. A spectral secret accompanies him henceforward. A devil
+sits in his pocket, in that parchment. He dares not think of himself.
+Something sufficient to shake the world of London, and set all English
+Christian tongues throughout the earth wagging on one theme, has
+happened.
+
+Does he repent? One thing is certain: he dares not falter. Something
+within him once or twice commanded him to throw his crime into the fire,
+while yet it is obliterable. But what then? what of to-morrow? Into that
+sheer black sea of ruin, that reels and yawns as deep as eye can fathom
+beneath him, he must dive and see the light no more. Better his chance.
+
+He won't think of what he has done, of what he is going to do. He
+suspects his courage: he dares not tempt his cowardice. Braver, perhaps,
+it would have been to meet the worst at once. But surely, according to
+the theory of chances, we have played the true game. Is not a little
+time gained, everything? Are we not in friendly hands? Has not that
+little scoundrel committed himself, by an all but actual participation
+in the affair? It can never come to _that_. "I have only to confess, and
+throw myself at Uncle David's feet, and the one dangerous debt would
+instantly be brought up and cancelled."
+
+These thoughts came vaguely, and on his heart lay an all but
+insupportable load. The sight of the staircase reminded him that Alice
+must long since have gone to her room. He yearned to see her and say
+good-night. It was the last farewell that the brother she had known from
+her childhood till now should ever speak or look. That brother was to
+die to-night, and a spirit of guilt to come in his stead.
+
+He taps lightly at her door. She is asleep. He opens it, and dimly sees
+her innocent head upon the pillow. If his shadow were cast upon her
+dream, what an image would she have seen looking in at the door! A
+sudden horror seizes him--he draws back and closes the door; on the
+lobby he pauses. It was a last moment of grace. He stole down the
+stairs, mounted his tax-cart, took the reins from his servant in
+silence, and drove swiftly into town. In Parliament Street, near the
+corner of the street leading to Levi's office, they passed a policeman,
+lounging on the flagway. Richard Arden is in a strangely nervous state;
+he fancies he will stop and question him, and he touches the horse with
+the whip to get quickly by.
+
+In his breast-pocket he carried his ghastly secret. A pretty business if
+he happened to be thrown out, and a policeman should make an inventory
+of his papers, as he lay insensible in an hospital--a pleasant thing if
+he were robbed in these villanous streets, and the bond advertised, for
+a reward, by a pretended finder. A nice thing, good heaven! if it should
+wriggle and slip its way out of his pocket, in the jolting and tremble
+of the drive, and fall into London hands, either rascally or severe. He
+pulled up, and gave the reins to the servant, and felt, however
+gratefully, with his fingers, the crisp crumple of the parchment under
+the cloth! Did his servant look at him oddly as he gave him the reins?
+Not he; but Sir Richard began to suspect him and everything. He made him
+stop near the angle of the street, and there he got down, telling him
+rather savagely--for his fancied look was still in the baronet's
+brain--not to move an inch from that spot.
+
+It was half-past one as his steps echoed down the street in which Mr.
+Levi had his office. There was a figure leaning with its back in the
+recess of Levi's door, smoking. Sir Richard's temper was growing
+exasperated.
+
+It was Levi himself. Upstairs they stumble in the dark. Mr. Levi has not
+said a word. He is not treating his visitor with much ceremony. He lets
+himself into his office, secured with a heavy iron bar, and a lock that
+makes a great clang, and proceeds to light a candle. The flame expands
+and the light shows well-barred shutters, and the familiar objects.
+
+When Mr. Levi had lighted a second candle, he fixed his great black eyes
+on the young baronet, who glances over his shoulder at the door, but the
+Jew has secured it. Their eyes meet for a moment, and Sir Richard places
+his hand nervously in his breast-pocket and takes out the parchment.
+Levi nods and extends his hand. Each now holds it by a corner, and as
+Sir Richard lets it go hesitatingly, he says faintly--
+
+"Levi, you wouldn't--you could not run any risk with that?"
+
+Levi stands by his great iron safe, with the big key in his hand. He
+nods in reply, and locking up the document, he knocks his knuckles on
+the iron door, with a long and solemn wink.
+
+"_Sha-afe!_--that'sh the word," says he, and then he drops the keys into
+his pocket again.
+
+There was a silence of a minute or more. A spell was stealing over them;
+an influence was in the room. Each eyed the other, shrinkingly, as a man
+might eye an assassin. The Jew knew that there was danger in that
+silence; and yet he could not break it. He could not disturb the
+influence acting on Richard Arden's mind. It was his good angel's last
+pleading, before the long farewell.
+
+In a dreadful whisper Richard Arden speaks:--
+
+"Give me that parchment back," says he.
+
+Satan finds his tongue again.
+
+"Give it back?" repeats Levi, and a pause ensues. "Of course I'll give
+it back; and I wash my hands of it and you, and you're throwing away ten
+thoushand poundsh for _nothing_."
+
+Levi was taking out his keys as he spoke, and as he fumbled them over
+one by one, he said--
+
+"You'll want a lawyer in the Insholwent Court, and you'd find Mishter
+Sholomonsh azh shatisfactory a shengleman azh any in London. He'sh an
+auctioneer, too; and there'sh no good in your meetin' that friendly cove
+here to-morrow, for he'sh one o' them honourable chaps, and he'll never
+look at you after your schedule's lodged, and the shooner that'sh done
+the better; and them women we was courting, won't they laugh!"
+
+Hereupon, with great alacrity, Mr. Levi began to apply the key to the
+lock.
+
+"Don't mind. Keep it; and mind, you d----d little swindler, so sure as
+you stand there, if you play me a trick, I'll blow your brains out, if
+it were in the police-office!"
+
+Mr. Levi looked hard at him, and nodded. He was accustomed to excited
+language in certain situations.
+
+"Well," said he coolly, a second time returning the keys to his pocket,
+"your friend will be here at twelve to-morrow, and if you please him as
+well as he expects, who knows wha-at may be? If he leavesh you half hish
+money, you'll not 'ave many bill transhactionsh on your handsh."
+
+"May God Almighty have mercy on me!" groans Sir Richard, hardly above
+his breath.
+
+"You shall have the cheques then. He'll be here all right."
+
+"I--I forget; did you say an hour?"
+
+Levi repeats the hour. Sir Richard walks slowly to the stairs, down
+which Levi lights him. Neither speaks.
+
+In a few minutes more the young gentleman is driving rapidly to his town
+house, where he means to end that long-remembered night.
+
+When he had got to his room, and dismissed his valet, he sat down. He
+looked round, and wondered how collected he now was. The situation
+seemed like a dream, or his sense of danger had grown torpid. He could
+not account for the strange indifference that had come over him. He got
+quickly into bed. It was late, and he exhausted, and aided, I know not
+by what narcotic, he slept a constrained, odd sleep--black as
+Erebus--the thread of which snaps suddenly, and he is awake with a heart
+beating fast, as if from a sudden start. A hard bitter voice has said
+close by the pillow, "You are the first Arden that ever did that!" and
+with these words grating in his ears, he awoke, and had a confused
+remembrance of having been dreaming of his father.
+
+Another dream, later on, startled him still more. He was in Levi's
+office, and while they were talking over the horrid document, in a
+moment it blew out of the window; and a lean, ill-looking man, in a
+black coat, like the famous person who, in old woodcuts, picked up the
+shadow of Peter Schlemel, caught the parchment from the pavement, and
+with his eyes fixed corner-wise upon him, and a dreadful smile, tapped
+his long finger on the bond, and with wide paces stepped swiftly away
+with it in his hand.
+
+Richard Arden started up in his bed; the cold moisture of terror was
+upon his forehead, and for a moment he did not know where he was, or how
+much of his vision was real. The grey twilight of early morning was over
+the town. He welcomed the light; he opened the window-shutters wide. He
+looked from the window down upon the street. A lean man with tattered
+black, with a hammer in his hand, just as the man in his dream had held
+the roll of parchment, was slowly stepping with long strides away from
+his house, along the street.
+
+As his thoughts cleared, his panic increased. Nothing had happened
+between the time of his lying down and his up-rising to alter his
+situation, and the same room sees him now half mad.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER LXIX.
+
+THE MEETING.
+
+
+Near the appointed hour, he walked across the park, and through the
+Horse Guards, and in a few minutes more was between the tall
+old-fashioned houses of the street in which Mr. Levi's office is to be
+found. He passes by a dingy hired coach, with a tarnished crest on the
+door, and sees two Jewish-looking men inside, both smiling over some sly
+joke. Whose door are they waiting at? He supposes another Jewish office
+seeks the shade of that pensive street.
+
+Mr. Levi opened his office door for his handsome client. They were quite
+to themselves. Mr. Levi did not look well. He received him with a nod.
+He shut the door when Sir Richard was in the room.
+
+"He'sh not come yet. We'll talk to him inshide." He indicates the door
+of the inner room, with a little side jerk of his head. "That'sh
+private. He hazh that--_thing_ all right."
+
+Sir Richard says nothing. He follows Levi into a small inner room, which
+had, perhaps, originally been a lady's boudoir, and had afterwards, one
+might have conjectured, served as the treasury of cash and jewels of a
+pawn-office; for its door was secured with iron bars, and two great
+locks, and the windows were well barred with iron. There were two huge
+iron safes in the room, built into the wall.
+
+"I'll show you a beauty of a dresshing-ca-ashe," said Levi, rousing
+himself; "I'll shell it a dead bargain, and give time for half, if you
+knowsh any young shwell as wantsh such a harticle. Look here; it was
+made for the Duchess of Horleans--all in gold, hemerald, and
+brilliantsh."
+
+And thus haranguing, he displayed its contents, and turned them over,
+staring on them with a livid admiration. Sir Richard is not thinking of
+the duchess's dressing-case, nor is he much more interested when Mr.
+Levi goes on to tell him, "There'sh three executions against peersh out
+thish week--two gone down to the country. Sholomonsh nobbled Lord
+Bylkington's carriage outshide Shyner's at two o'clock in the morning,
+and his lordship had to walk home in the rain;" and Levi laughs and
+wriggles pleasantly over the picture. "I think he'sh coming," says Levi
+suddenly, inclining his ear toward the door. He looked back over his
+shoulder with an odd look, a little stern, at the young gentleman.
+
+"Who?" asked the young man, a little uncertain, in consequence of the
+character of that look.
+
+"Your--that--your friend, of course," said Levi, with his eyes again
+averted, and his ear near the door.
+
+It was a moment of trepidation and of hope to Richard Arden. He hears
+the steps of several persons in the next room. Levi opens a little bit
+of the door, and peeps through, and with a quick glance towards the
+baronet, he whispers, "Ay, it's him."
+
+Oh, blessed hope! here comes, at last, a powerful friend to take him by
+the hand, and draw him, in his last struggle, from the whirlpool.
+
+Sir Richard glances towards the door through which the Jew is still
+looking, and signing with his hand as, little by little, he opens it
+wider and wider; and a voice in the next room, at sound of which Sir
+Richard starts to his feet, says sharply, "Is all right?"
+
+"All _right_," replies Levi, getting aside; and Mr. Longcluse entered
+the room and shut the door.
+
+His pale face looked paler than usual, his thin cruel lips were closed,
+his nostrils dilated with a terrible triumph, and his eyes were fixed
+upon Arden, as he held the fatal parchment in his hand.
+
+Levi saw a scowl so dreadful contract Sir Richard Arden's face--was it
+pain, or was it fury?--that, drawing back as far as the wall would let
+him, he almost screamed, "It ain't me!--it ain't my fault!--I can't help
+it!--I couldn't!--I can't!" His right hand was in his pocket, and his
+left, trembling violently, extended toward him, as if to catch his arm.
+
+But Richard Arden was not thinking of him--did not hear him. He was
+overpowered. He sat down in his chair. He leaned back with a gasp and a
+faint laugh, like a man just overtaken by a wave, and lifted
+half-drowned from the sea. Then, with a sudden cry, he threw his hands
+and head on the table.
+
+There was no token of relenting in Longcluse's cruel face. There was a
+contemptuous pleasure in it. He did not remove his eyes from that
+spectacle of abasement as he replaced the parchment in his pocket. There
+is a silence of about a minute, and Sir Richard sits up and says
+vaguely,--
+
+"Thank God, it's over! Take me away; I'm ready to go."
+
+"You shall go, time enough; I have a word to say first," said Longcluse,
+and he signs to the Jew to leave them.
+
+On being left to themselves, the first idea that struck Sir Richard was
+the wild one of escape. He glanced quickly at the window. It was barred
+with iron. There were men in the next room--he could not tell how
+many--and he was without arms. The hope lighted up, and almost at the
+same moment expired.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER LXX.
+
+MR. LONGCLUSE PROPOSES.
+
+
+"Clear your head," says Mr. Longcluse, sternly, seating himself before
+Sir Richard, with the table between; "you must conceive a distinct idea
+of your situation, Sir, and I shall then tell you something that
+remains. You have committed a forgery under aggravated circumstances,
+for which I shall have you convicted and sentenced to penal servitude at
+the next sessions. I have been a good friend to you on many occasions;
+you have been a false one to me--who baser?--and while I was anonymously
+helping you with large sums of money, you forged my name to a legal
+instrument for ten thousand pounds, to swindle your unknown benefactor,
+little suspecting who he was."
+
+Longcluse smiled.
+
+"I have heard how you spoke of me. I'm an adventurer, a leg, an
+assassin, a person whom you were compelled to drop; rather a low person,
+I fear, if a felon can't afford to sit beside me! You were always too
+fine a man for me. Your get up was always peculiar; you were famous for
+that. It will soon be more singular still, when your hair and your
+clothes are cut after the fashion of the great world you are about to
+enter. How your friends will laugh!"
+
+Sir Richard heard all this with a helpless stare.
+
+"I have only to stamp on the ground, to call up the men who will
+accomplish your transformation. I can change your life by a touch, into
+convict dress, diet, labour, lodging, for the rest of your days. What
+plea have you to offer to my mercy?"
+
+Sir Richard would have spoken, but his voice failed him. With a second
+effort, however, he said--"Would it not be more manly if you let me meet
+my fate, without this."
+
+"And you are such an admirable judge of what is manly, or even
+gentlemanlike!" said Longcluse. "Now, mind, I shall arrest you in five
+minutes, on your three over-due bills. The men with the writ are in the
+next room. I sha'n't immediately arrest you for the forgery. That shall
+hang over you. I mean to make you, for a while, my instrument. Hear, and
+understand; I mean to marry your sister. She don't like me, but she
+suits me; I have chosen her, and I'll not be baulked. When that is
+accomplished, you are safe. No man likes to see his brother a spectacle
+of British justice, with cropped hair, and a log to his foot. I may hate
+and despise you, as you deserve, but that would not do. Failing that,
+however, you shall have justice, I promise you. The course I propose
+taking is this: you shall be arrested here, for _debt_. You will be good
+enough to allow the people who take you, to select your present place of
+confinement. It is arranged. I will then, by a note, appoint a place of
+meeting for this evening, where I shall instruct you as to the
+particulars of that course of conduct I prescribe for you. If you mean
+to attempt an escape, you had better try it _now_; I will give you
+fourteen hours' start, and undertake to catch and bring you back to
+London as a forger. If you make up your mind to submit to fate, and do
+precisely as you are ordered, you may emerge. But on the slightest
+evasion, prevarication, or default, the blow descends. In the meantime
+we treat each other civilly before these people. Levi is in my hands,
+and you, I presume, keep your own secret."
+
+"That is all?" inquired Sir Richard, faintly, after a minute's silence.
+
+"All for the _present_," was the reply; "you will see more clearly,
+by-and-by, that you are my property, and you will act accordingly."
+
+The two Jewish-looking gentlemen, whom Richard had passed in a
+conference in their carriage which stood now at the steps of the house,
+were the sheriff's officers destined to take charge of the fallen
+gentleman, and convey him, by Levi's direction, to a "sponging house,"
+which, I believe, belonged jointly to him and his partner, Mr. Goldshed.
+
+It was on the principle, perhaps, on which hunters tame wild beasts, by
+a sojourn at the bottom of a pit-fall, that Mr. Longcluse doomed the
+young baronet to some ten hours' solitary contemplation of his hopeless
+immeshment in that castle of Giant Despair, before taking him out and
+setting him again before him, for the purpose of instructing him in the
+conditions and duties of the direful life on which he was about to
+enter.
+
+Mr. Longcluse left the baronet suddenly, and returned to Levi's office
+no more.
+
+Sir Richard's _role_ was cast. He was to figure, at least first, as a
+captive in the drama for which fate had selected him. He had no wish to
+retard the progress of the piece. Nothing more odious than his present
+situation was likely to come.
+
+"You have something to say to me?" said the baronet, making tender, as
+it were, of himself. The offer was, obligingly, accepted, and the
+sheriffs, by his lieutenants, made prisoner of Sir Richard Arden, who
+strode down the stairs between them, and entered the seedy coach, and
+sitting as far back as he could, drove rapidly toward the City.
+
+Stunned and confused, there was but one image vividly present to his
+recollection, and that was the baleful face of Walter Longcluse.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER LXXI.
+
+NIGHT.
+
+
+At about eight o'clock that evening, a hurried note reached Alice Arden,
+at Mortlake. It was from her brother, and said,--
+
+    "MY DARLING ALICE,
+
+    "I can't get away from town to-night, I am overwhelmed with
+    business; but to-morrow, before dinner, I hope to see you, and stay
+    at Mortlake till next morning.--Your affectionate brother,
+
+    "DICK."
+
+The house was quiet earlier than in former times, when Sir Reginald, of
+rakish memory, was never in his bed till past three o'clock in the
+morning. Mortlake was an early house now, and all was still by a quarter
+past eleven. The last candle burning was usually that in Mrs. Tansey's
+room. She had not yet gone to bed, and was still in "the housekeeper's
+room," when a tapping came at the window. It reminded her of Mr.
+Longcluse's visit on the night of the funeral.
+
+She was now the only person up in the house, except Alice, who was at
+the far side of the building, where, in the next room, her maid was in
+bed asleep. Alice, who sat at her dressing-table, reading, with her long
+rich hair dishevelled over her shoulders, was, of course, quite out of
+hearing.
+
+Martha went to the window with a little frown of uncertainty. Opening a
+bit of the shutter, she saw Sir Richard's face close to her. Was ever
+old housekeeper so pestered by nightly tappings at her window-pane?
+
+"La! who'd a thought o' seeing you, Master Richard! why, you told Miss
+Alice you'd not be here till to-morrow!" she says pettishly, holding the
+candle high above her head.
+
+He makes a sign of caution to her, and placing his lips near the pane,
+says,--
+
+"Open the window the least bit in life."
+
+With a dark stare in his face, she obeys. An odd approach, surely, for a
+master to make to his own house!
+
+"No one up in the house but you?" he whispers, as soon as the window is
+open.
+
+"Not one!"
+
+"Don't say a word, only listen: come, softly, round to the hall-door,
+and let me in; and light those candles there, and bring them with you to
+the hall. Don't let a creature know I have been here, and make no noise
+for your life!"
+
+The old woman nodded with the same little frown; and he, pointing toward
+the hall door, walks away silently in that direction.
+
+"What makes you look so white and dowley?" mutters the old woman, as she
+secures the window, and bars the shutters again.
+
+"Good creature!" whispers Sir Richard, as he enters the hall, and places
+his hand kindly on her shoulder, and with a very dark look; "you have
+always been true to me, Martha, and I depend on your good sense; not a
+word of my having been here to any one--not to Miss Alice! I have to
+search for papers. I shall be here but an hour or so. Don't lock or bar
+the door, mind, and get to your bed! Don't come up this way
+again--good-night!"
+
+"Won't you have some supper?"
+
+"No, thanks."
+
+"A glass of sherry and a bit o' something?"
+
+"Nothing."
+
+And he places his hand on her shoulder gently, and looks toward the
+corridor that led to her room; then taking up one of the candles she had
+left alight on the table in the hall, he says,--
+
+"I'll give you a light," and he repeats, with a wondrous heavy sigh,
+"Good-night, dear old Martha."
+
+"God bless ye, Master Dick. Ye must chirp up a bit, mind," she says very
+kindly, with an earnest look in her face. "I'm getting to rest--ye
+needn't fear me walkin' about to trouble ye. But ye must be careful to
+shut the hall-door close. I agree, as it is a thing to be done; but ye
+must also knock at my bed-room window when ye've gane out, for I must
+get up, and lock the door, and make a' safe; and don't ye forget, Master
+Richard, what I tell ye."
+
+He held the candle at the end of the corridor, down which the wiry old
+woman went quickly; and when he returned to the hall, and set the candle
+down again, he felt faint. In his ears are ever the terrible words:
+"Mind, _I_ take command of the house, _I_ dispose of and appoint the
+servants; I don't appear, you do all ostensibly--but from garret to
+cellar, I'm _master_. I'll look it over, and tell you what is to be
+done."
+
+Sir Richard roused himself, and having listened at the staircase, he
+very softly opened the hall-door. The spire of the old church showed
+hoar in the moonlight. At the left, from under a deep shadow of elms,
+comes silently a tall figure, and softly ascends the hall-door steps.
+The door is closed gently.
+
+Alice sitting at her dressing-table, half an hour later, thought she
+heard steps--lowered her book, and listened. But no sound followed.
+Again the same light foot-falls disturbed her--and again, she was
+growing nervous. Once more she heard them, very stealthily, and now on
+the same floor on which her room was. She stands up breathless. There is
+no noise now. She was thinking of waking her maid, but she remembered
+that she and Louisa Diaper had in a like alarm, discovered old Martha,
+only two or three nights before, poking about the china-closet, dusting
+and counting, at one o'clock in the morning, and had then exacted a
+promise that she would visit that repository no more, except at
+seasonable hours. But old Martha was so pig-headed, and would take it
+for granted that she was fast asleep, and would rather fidget through
+the house and poke up everything at that hour than at any other.
+
+Quite persuaded of this, Alice takes her candle, determined to scold
+that troublesome old thing, against whom she is fired with the
+irritation that attends on a causeless fright. She walks along the
+gallery quickly, in slippers, flowing dressing-gown and hair, with her
+candle in her hand, to the head of the stairs, through the great window
+of which the moonlight streams brightly. Through the keyhole of the door
+at the opposite side, a ray of candlelight is visible, and from this
+room opens the china-closet, which is no doubt the point of attraction
+for the troublesome visitant. Holding the candle high in her left hand,
+Alice opens the door.
+
+What she sees is this--a pair of candles burning on a small table, on
+which, with a pencil, Mr. Longcluse is drawing, it seems, with care, a
+diagram; at the same moment he raises his eyes, and Richard Arden, who
+is standing with one hand placed on the table over which he is leaning a
+little, looks quickly round, and rising walks straight to the door,
+interposing between her and Longcluse.
+
+"Oh, Alice? You didn't expect me: I'm very busy, looking for--looking
+over papers. Don't mind."
+
+He had placed his hands gently on her shoulders, and she receded as he
+advanced.
+
+"Oh! it don't matter. I thought--I thought--I did not know."
+
+She was smiling her best. She was horrified. He looked like a ghost.
+Alice was gazing piteously in his face, and with a little laugh, she
+began to cry convulsively.
+
+"What is the matter with the little fool! There, there--don't,
+don't--nonsense!"
+
+With an effort she recovered herself.
+
+"Only a little startled, Dick; I did not think you were
+there--good-night."
+
+And she hastened back to her chamber, and locked the door; and running
+into her maid's room, sat down on the side of her bed, and wept
+hysterically. To the imploring inquiries of her maid, she repeated only
+the words, "I am frightened," and left her in a startled perplexity.
+
+She knew that Longcluse had seen her, and he, that she had seen him.
+Their eyes had met. He saw with a bleak rage the contracting look of
+horror, so nearly hatred, that she fixed on him for a breathless moment.
+There was a tremor of fury at his heart, as if it could have sprung at
+her, from his breast, at her throat, and murdered her; and--she looked
+so beautiful! He gazed with an idolatrous admiration. Tears were welling
+to his eyes, and yet he would have laughed to see her weltering on the
+floor. A madman for some tremendous seconds!
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER LXXII.
+
+MEASURES.
+
+
+About twelve o'clock next day Richard Arden showed himself at Mortlake.
+It was a beautiful autumnal day, and the mellow sun fell upon a foliage
+that was fading into russet and yellow. Alice was looking out from the
+open window, on the noble old timber whose wide-spread boughs and
+thinning leaves caught the sunbeams pleasantly. She had heard her
+brother and his companion go down the stairs, and saw them, from the
+window, walk quickly down the avenue, till the trees hid them from view.
+She thought that some of the servants were up, and that the door was
+secured on their departure; and the effect of the shock she had received
+gradually subsiding, she looked to her next interview with her brother
+for an explanation of the occurrence which had so startled her.
+
+That interview was approaching; the cab drove up to the steps, and her
+brother got out. Anxiously she looked, but no one followed him, and the
+driver shut the cab-door. Sir Richard kissed his hand to her, as she
+stood in the window.
+
+From the hall the house opens to the right and left, in two suites of
+rooms. The room in which Alice stood was called the sage-room, from its
+being hung in sage-green leather, stamped in gold. It is a small room to
+the left, and would answer very prettily for a card party or a
+_tete-a-tete_. Alice had her work, her books, and her music there; she
+liked it because the room was small and cheery.
+
+The door opened, and her brother comes in.
+
+"Good Dick, to come so early! welcome, darling," she said, putting her
+arms about his neck, as he stooped and kissed her, smiling.
+
+He looked very ill, and his smile was painful.
+
+"That was an odd little visit I paid last night," said he, with his dark
+eyes fixed on her, inquiringly she thought--"very late--quite
+unexpected. You are quite well to-day?--you look flourishing."
+
+"I wish I could say as much for you, Dick; I'm afraid you are tiring
+yourself to death."
+
+"I had some one with me last night," said Sir Richard, with his eye
+still upon her; "I--I don't know whether you perceived that."
+
+Alice looked away, and then said carelessly, but very gravely--
+
+"I did--I saw Mr. Longcluse. I could not believe my eyes, Dick. You must
+promise me one thing."
+
+"What is that?"
+
+"That he sha'n't come into this house any more--while I am here, I
+mean."
+
+"That is easily promised," said he.
+
+"And what did he come about, Dick?"
+
+"Oh! he came--he came--I thought I told you; he came about papers. I did
+not tell you; but he has, after all, turned out very friendly. He is
+going to do me a very important service."
+
+She looked very much surprised.
+
+The young man glanced through the window, to which he walked; he seemed
+embarrassed, and then turning to her, he said peevishly--
+
+"You seem to think, Alice, that one can never make a mistake, or change
+an opinion."
+
+"But I did not say so; only, Dick, I must tell you that I have such a
+horror of that man--a _terror_ of him--as nothing can ever get over."
+
+"I'm to blame for that."
+
+"No, I can't say you are. I don't mind stories so much as----"
+
+"As what?"
+
+"As looks."
+
+"Looks! Why, you used to think him a gentlemanly-looking fellow, and so
+he is."
+
+"Looks _and language_," said Alice.
+
+"I thought he was a very civil fellow."
+
+"I sha'n't dispute anything. I suppose you have found him a good friend
+after all, as you say."
+
+"As good a friend as most men," said Sir Richard, growing pale; "they
+all act from interest: where interests are the same, men are friends.
+But he has saved me from a great deal, and he may do more; and I believe
+I was too hasty about those stories, and I think you were right when you
+refused to believe them without proof."
+
+"I daresay--I don't know--I believe my senses--and all I say is this, if
+Mr. Longcluse is to come here any more, I must go. He is no gentleman, I
+think--that is, I can't describe how I dislike him--how I hate him! I'm
+afraid of him! Dick, you look ill and unhappy: what's the matter?"
+
+"I'm well enough--I'm better; we shall be better--all better by-and-by.
+I wish the next five weeks were over! We must leave this, we must go to
+Arden Court; I will send some of the servants there first. I am going to
+tell them now, they must get the house ready. You shall keep your maid
+here with you; and when all is ready in Yorkshire, we shall be
+off--Alice, Alice, don't mind me--I'm miserable--mad!" he says suddenly,
+and covers his face with his hands, and, for the first time for years,
+he is crying bitter tears.
+
+Alice was by his side, alarmed, curious, grieved; and with all these
+emotions mingling in her dark eyes and beautiful features, as she drew
+his hand gently away, with a rush of affectionate entreaties and
+inquiries.
+
+"It is all very fine, Alice," he exclaims, with a sudden bitterness;
+"but I don't believe, to save me from destruction, you would sacrifice
+one of your least caprices, or reconcile one of your narrowest
+prejudices."
+
+"What can you mean, dear Richard? only tell me how I can be of any use.
+You can't mean, of course----"
+
+She stops with a startled look at him. "You know, dear Dick, that was
+always out of the question: and surely you have heard that Lord
+Wynderbroke is to be married to Grace Maubray? It is all settled."
+
+Quite another thought had been in Richard's mind, but he was glad to
+accept Alice's conjecture.
+
+"Yes, so it is--so, at least, it is said to be--but I am so worried and
+distracted, I half forget things. Girls are such jolly fools; they throw
+good men away, and lose themselves. What is to become of you, Alice, if
+things go wrong with me! I think the old times were best, when the old
+people settled who was to marry whom, and there was no disputing their
+decision, and marriages were just as happy, and courtships a great deal
+simpler; and I am very sure there were fewer secret repinings, and
+broken hearts, and--threadbare old maids. Don't _you_ be a fool, Alice;
+mind what I say."
+
+He is leaving the room, but pauses at the door, and returns and places
+his hand on her arm, looking in her face, and says--
+
+"Yes, mind what I say, for God's sake, and we may all be a great deal
+happier."
+
+He kisses her, and is gone. Her eyes follow him, as she thinks with a
+sigh--
+
+"How strange Dick is growing! I'm afraid he has been playing again, and
+losing. It must have been something very urgent that induced him to make
+it up again with that low malignant man; and this break-up, and journey
+to Arden Court! I think I should prefer being there. There is something
+ominous about this place, picturesque as it is, and much as I like it.
+But the journey to Yorkshire is only another of the imaginary excursions
+Dick has been proposing every fortnight; and next year, and the year
+after, will find us, I suppose, just where we are."
+
+But this conjecture, for once, was mistaken. It was, this time, a
+veritable break-up and migration; for Martha Tansey came in, with the
+importance of a person who has a matter of moment to talk over.
+
+"Here's something sudden, Miss Alice; I suppose you've heard. Off to
+Arden Court in the mornin'. Crozier and me; the footman discharged, and
+you to follow with Master Richard in a week."
+
+"Oh, then, it _is_ settled. Well, Martha, I am not sorry, and I daresay
+you and Crozier won't be sorry to see old Yorkshire faces again, and the
+Court, and the rookery, and the orchard."
+
+"I don't mind; glad enough to see a'ad faces, but I'm a bit o'er a'ad
+myself for such sudden flittins, and Manx and Darwent, and the rest, is
+to go by night train to-morrow, and not a housemaid left in Mortlake.
+But Master Richard says a's provided, and 'twill be but a few days after
+a's done; and ye'll be down, then, at Arden by the middle o' next week,
+and I'm no sa sure the change mayn't serve ye; and as your uncle, Master
+David, and Lady May Penrose, and Miss Maubray--a strackle-brained lass
+she is, I doubt--and to think o' that a'ad fule, Lord Wynderbroke,
+takin' sich a young, bonny hizzy to wife! La bless ye, she'll play the
+hangment wi' that a'ad gowk of a lord, and all his goold guineas won't
+do. His kist o' money won't hod na time, I warrant ye, when once that
+lassie gets her pretty fingers under the lid. There'll be gaains on in
+that house, I warrant, not but he's a gude man, and a fine gentleman as
+need be," she added, remembering her own strenuous counsel in his
+favour, when he was supposed to be paying his court to Alice; "and if he
+was mated wi' a gude lassie, wi' gude blude in her veins, would
+doubtless keep as honourable a house, and hod his head as high as any
+lord o' them a'. But as I was saying, Miss Alice, now that Master David,
+and Lady May, and Miss Maubray, has left Lunnon, there's no one here to
+pay ye a visit, and ye'd be fairly buried alive here in Mortlake, and
+ye'll be better, and sa will we a', down at Arden, for a bit; and
+there's gentle folk down there as gude as ever rode in Lunnon streets,
+mayhap, and better; and mony a squire, that ony leddy in the land might
+be proud to marry, and not one but would be glad to match wi' an Arden."
+
+"That is a happy thought," said Alice, laughing.
+
+"And so it is, and no laughing matter," said Martha, a little offended,
+as she stalked out of the room, and closed the door, grandly, after her.
+
+"And God bless you, dear old Martha," said the young lady, looking
+towards the door through which she had just passed; "the truest and
+kindest soul on earth."
+
+Sir Richard did not come back. She saw him no more that evening.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER LXXIII.
+
+AT THE BAR OF THE "GUY OF WARWICK."
+
+
+Next evening there came, not Richard, but a note saying that he would
+see Alice the moment he could get away from town. As the old servant
+departed northward, her solitude for the first time began to grow
+irksome, and as the night approached, worse even than gloomy.
+
+Her extemporised household made her laugh. It was not even a skeleton
+establishment. The kitchen department had dwindled to a single person,
+who ordered her luncheon and dinner, only two or three _plats_, daily,
+from the "Guy of Warwick." The housemaid's department was undertaken by
+a single servant, a short, strong woman of some sixty years of age.
+
+This person puzzled Alice a good deal. She came to her, like the others,
+with a note from her brother, stating her name, and that he had engaged
+her for the few days they meant to remain roughing it at Mortlake, and
+that he had received a very good account of her.
+
+This woman has not a bad countenance. There is, indeed, no tenderness in
+it; but there is a sort of hard good-humour. There are quickness and
+resolution. She talks fluently of herself and her qualifications, and
+now and then makes a short curtsey. But she takes no notice of any one
+of Alice's questions.
+
+A silence sometimes follows, during which Alice repeats her
+interrogatory perhaps twice, with growing indignation, and then the new
+comer breaks into a totally independent talk, and leaves the young lady
+wondering at her disciplined impertinence. It was not till her second
+visit that she enlightened her.
+
+"I did not send for you. You can go!" said Alice.
+
+"I don't like a house that has children in it, they gives a deal o'
+trouble," said the woman.
+
+"But I say you may go; you must go, please."
+
+The woman looked round the room.
+
+"When I was with Mrs. Montgomery, she had five, three girls and two
+boys; la! there never was five such----"
+
+"Go, this moment, please, I insist on your going; do you hear me, pray?"
+
+But so far from answering, or obeying, this cool intruder continues her
+harangue before Miss Arden gets half way to the end of her little
+speech.
+
+"That woman was the greatest fool alive--nothing but spoiling and
+petting--I could not stand it no longer, so I took Master Tommy by the
+lug, and pulled him out of the kitchen, the limb, along the passage to
+the stairs, every inch, and I gave him a slap in the face, the fat young
+rascal; you could hear all over the house! and didn't he rise the roof!
+So missus and me, we quarrelled upon it."
+
+"If you don't leave the room, _I_ must; and I shall tell my brother, Sir
+Richard, how you have behaved yourself; and you may rely upon it----"
+
+But here again she is overpowered by the strong voice of her visitor.
+
+"It was in my next place, at Mr. Crump's, I took cold in my head, very
+bad, Miss, indeed, looking out of window to see two fellows fighting, in
+the lane--in both ears--and so I lost my hearing, and I've been deaf as
+a post ever since!"
+
+Alice could not resist a laugh at her own indignant eloquence quite
+thrown away; and she hastily wrote with a pencil on a slip of paper:--
+
+"Please don't come to me except when I send for you."
+
+"La! Ma'am, I forgot!" exclaims the woman, when she had examined it; "my
+orders was not to read any of _your_ writing."
+
+"Not to read any of my writing!" said Alice, amazed; "then, how am I to
+tell you what I wish about anything?" she inquires, for the moment
+forgetting that not one word of her question was heard. The woman makes
+a curtsey and retires. "What can Richard have meant by giving her such a
+direction? I'll ask him when he comes."
+
+It was likely enough that the woman had misunderstood him, still she
+began to wish the little interval destined to be passed at Mortlake
+before her journey to Yorkshire, ended.
+
+She told her maid, Louisa Diaper, to go down to the kitchen and find out
+all she could as to what people were in the house, and what duties they
+had undertaken, and when her brother was likely to arrive.
+
+Louisa Diaper, slim, elegant, and demure, descended among these
+barbarous animals. She found in the kitchen, unexpectedly, a male
+stranger, a small, slight man, with great black eyes, a big sullen
+mouth, a sallow complexion, and a profusion of black ringlets. The deaf
+woman was conning over some writing of his on a torn-off blank leaf of a
+letter, and he was twiddling about the pencil, with which he had just
+traced it, in his fingers, and, in a singing drawl, holding forth to the
+other woman, who, with a long and high canvas apron on, and the handle
+of an empty saucepan in her right hand, stood gaping at him, with her
+arms hanging by her sides.
+
+On the appearance of Miss Diaper, Mr. Levi, for he it was, directs his
+solemn conversation to that young lady.
+
+"I was just telling them about the robberies in the City and Wesht Hend.
+La! there'sh bin nothin' like it for twenty year. They don't tell them
+in the papersh, blesh ye! The 'ome Shecretary takesh precious good care
+o' that; they don't want to frighten every livin' shoul out of London.
+But there'll be talk of it in Parliament, I promish you. I know three
+opposition membersh myshelf that will move the 'oushe upon it next
+session."
+
+Mr. Levi wagged his head darkly as he made this political revelation.
+
+"Thish day twel'month the number o' burglariesh in London and the West
+Hend, including Hizzlington, was no more than fifteen and a half a
+night; and two robberiesh attended with wiolensh. What wazh it lasht
+night? I have it in confidensh, from the polishe offish thish morning."
+
+He pulled a pocket-book, rather greasy, from his breast, and from this
+depositary, it is to be presumed, of statistical secrets, he read the
+following official memorandum:--
+
+"Number of 'oushes burglarioushly hentered lasht night, including
+private banksh, charitable hinshtitutions, shops, lodging-'oushes,
+female hacadamies, and private dwellings, and robbed with more or less
+wiolench, one thoushand sheven hundred and shixty-sheven. We regret to
+hadd," he continued, the official return stealing, as it proceeded,
+gradually into the style of "The Pictorial Calendar of British Crime," a
+half-penny paper which he took in--"this hinundation of crime seems
+flowing, or rayther rushing northward, and hazh already enweloped
+Hizhlington, where a bald-headed clock and watch maker, named Halexander
+Goggles, wazh murdered with his sheven shmall children, with
+unigshampled ba-arba-arity."
+
+Mr. Levi eyed the women horribly all round as he ended the sentence, and
+he added,--
+
+"Hizhlington'sh only down there. It ain't five minutesh walk; only a
+pleasant shtep; just enough to give a fellow azh has polished off a
+family there a happetite for another up here. Azh I 'ope to be shaved, I
+shleep every night with a pair of horshe pishtols, a blunderbush, and a
+shabre by my bed; and Shir Richard wantsh every door in the 'oushe fasht
+locked, and the keysh with him, before dark, thish evening, except only
+such doors as you want open; and he gave me a note to Miss Harden." And
+he placed the note in Miss Diaper's hand. "He wantsh the 'oushe a bit
+more schecure," he added, following her towards the hall. "He wishes to
+make you and she quite shafe, and out of harm's way, if anything should
+occur. It will be only a few days, you know, till you're both away."
+
+The effect of this little alarm, accompanied by Sir Richard's note, was
+that Mr. Levi carried out a temporary arrangement, which assigned the
+suite of apartments in which Alice's room was as those to which she
+would restrict herself during the few days she was to remain there, the
+rest of the house, except the kitchen and a servant's room or two
+down-stairs, being locked up.
+
+By the time Mr. Levi had got the keys together, and all safe in
+Mortlake, the sun had set, and in the red twilight that followed he set
+off in his cab towards town. At the "Guy of Warwick"--from the bar of
+which already was flaring a good broad gas-light--he stopped and got
+out. There was a full view of the bar from where he stood; and,
+pretending to rummage his pockets for something, he was looking in to
+see whether "the coast was clear."
+
+"She's just your sort--not too bad and not too good--not too nashty, and
+not too nishe; a good-humoured lash, rough and ready, and knowsh a thing
+or two."
+
+"Ye're there, are ye?" inquired Mr. Levi, playfully, as he crossed the
+door-stone, and placed his fists on the bar grinning.
+
+"What will you take, Sir, please?" inquired the young woman, at one side
+of whom was the usual row of taps and pump-handles.
+
+"Now, Miss Phoebe, give me a brandy and shoda, pleashe. When I talked to
+you in thish 'ere place 'tother night, you wished to engage for a lady's
+maid. What would you shay to me, if I was to get you a firsht-chop
+tip-top pla-ashe of the kind? Well, don't you shay a word--that brandy
+ain't fair measure--and I'll tell you. It'sh a la-ady of ra-ank! where
+wagesh ish no-o object; and two years' savings, and a good match with a
+well-to-do 'andsome young fellow, will set you hup in a better place
+than this 'ere."
+
+"It comes very timely, Sir, for I'm to leave to-morrow, and I was
+thinking of going home to my uncle in a day or two, in Chester."
+
+"Well it's all settled. Come you down to my offishe, you know where it
+is, to-morrow, at three, and I'll 'av all partickulars for you, and a
+note to the lady from her brother, the baronet; and if you be a good
+girl, and do as you're bid, you'll make a little fortune of it."
+
+She curtsied, with her eyes very round, as he, with a wag of his head
+drank down what remained of his brandy and soda, and wiping his mouth
+with his glove, he said, "Three o'clock sha-arp, mind; good-bye, Phoebe,
+lass, and don't you forget all I said."
+
+He stood ungallantly with his back towards her on the threshold lighting
+a cigar, and so soon as he had it in his own phrase, "working at high
+blast," he got into his cab, and jingled towards his office, with all
+his keys about him.
+
+While Miss Arden remained all unconscious, and even a little amused at
+the strange shifts to which her brief stay and extemporised household at
+Mortlake exposed her, a wily and determined strategist was drawing his
+toils around her.
+
+The process of isolation was nearly completed, without having once
+excited her suspicions; and, with the same perfidious skill, the house
+itself was virtually undergoing those modifications which best suited
+his designs.
+
+Sir Richard appeared at his club as usual. He was compelled to do so.
+The all-seeing eye of his pale tyrant pursued him everywhere; he lived
+under terror. A dreadful agony all this time convulsed the man, within
+whose heart Longcluse suspected nothing but the serenity of death.
+
+"What easier than to tell the story to the police. Meditated duresse.
+Compulsion. Infernal villain! And then: what then? A pistol to his head,
+a flash, and--darkness!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER LXXIV.
+
+A LETTER.
+
+
+Mr. Longcluse knocked at Sir Richard's house in May Fair, and sent
+up-stairs for the baronet. It was about the same hour at which Mr. Levi
+was drinking his thirsty potation of brandy and soda at the "Guy of
+Warwick." The streets were darker than that comparatively open place,
+and the gas lamp threw its red outline of the sashes upon the dark
+ceiling, as Mr. Longcluse stood in the drawing-room between the windows,
+in his great-coat, with his hat on, looking in the dark like an image
+made of fog.
+
+Sir Richard Arden entered the room.
+
+"You were not at Mortlake to-day," said he.
+
+"No."
+
+"There's a cab at the door that will take you there; your absence for a
+whole day would excite surmise. Don't stay more than five minutes, and
+don't mention Louisa Diaper's name, and account for the locking up of
+all the house, but one suite of rooms, I directed, and come to my house
+in Bolton Street, direct from Mortlake. That's all."
+
+Without another word, Mr. Longcluse took his departure.
+
+In this cavalier way, and in a cold tone that conveyed all the menace
+and insult involved in his ruined position, had this conceited young man
+been ordered about by his betrayer, on his cruel behests, ever since he
+had come under his dreadful rod. The iron trap that held him fast,
+locked him in a prison from which, except through the door of death,
+there seemed no escape.
+
+Outraged pride, the terrors of suspense, the shame and remorse of his
+own enormous perfidy against his only sister, peopled it with spectres.
+
+As he drove out to Mortlake, pale, frowning, with folded arms, his
+handsome face thinned and drawn by the cords of pain, he made up his
+mind. He knocked furiously at Mortlake Hall door. The woman in the
+canvas apron let him in. The strange face startled him; he had been
+thinking so intently of one thing. Going up, through the darkened house,
+with but one candle, and tapping at the door, on the floor above the
+drawing-room, within which Alice was sitting, with Louisa Diaper for
+company, and looking at her unsuspicious smile, he felt what a heinous
+conspirator he was.
+
+He made an excuse for sending the maid to the next room after they had
+spoken a few words, and then he said,--
+
+"Suppose, Alice, we were to change our plan, would you like to come
+abroad? Out of this you must come immediately." He was speaking low. "I
+am in great danger; I must go abroad. For your life, don't seem to
+suspect anything. Do exactly as I tell you, or else I am utterly ruined,
+and you, Alice, on your account, very miserable. Don't ask a question,
+or look a look, that may make Louisa Diaper suspect that you have any
+doubt as to your going to Arden, or any suspicion of any danger. She is
+quite true, but not wise, and your left hand must not know what your
+right hand is doing. Don't be frightened, only be steady and calm. Get
+together any jewels and money you have, and as little else as you can
+possibly manage with. Do this yourself; Louisa Diaper must know nothing
+of it. I will mature our plans, and to-morrow or next day I shall see
+you again; I can stay but a moment now, and have but time to bid you
+good-night."
+
+Then he kissed her. How horribly agitated he looked! How cold was the
+pressure of his hand!
+
+"Hush!" he whispered, and his dark eyes were fixed on the door through
+which he expected the return of the maid. And as he heard her step, "Not
+a word, remember!" he said; then bidding her good-night aloud, he
+quitted the room almost as suddenly as he had appeared, leaving her, for
+the first time, in the horrors of a growing panic.
+
+Sir Richard leaned back in the cab as he drove into town. He had as yet
+no plan formed. It was a more complicated exploit than he was at the
+moment equal to. In Mortlake were two fellows, by way of protectors,
+placed there for security of the house and people.
+
+These men held possession of the keys of the house, and sat and regaled
+themselves with their hot punch, or cold brandy and water, and pipes;
+always one awake, and with ears erect, they kept watch and ward in the
+room to the right of the hall-door, in which Sir Richard and Uncle David
+had conversed with the sad Mr. Plumes, on the evening after the old
+baronet's death. To effect Alice's escape, and reserve for himself a
+chance of accomplishing his own, was a problem demanding skill, cunning,
+and audacity.
+
+While he revolved these things an alarm had been sounded in another
+quarter, which unexpectedly opened a chance of extrication, sudden and
+startling.
+
+Mr. Longcluse was destined to a surprise to-night. Mr. Longcluse, at his
+own house, was awaiting the return of Sir Richard. Overlooked in his
+usually accurate though rapid selection, a particularly shabby and
+vulgar-looking letter had been thrown aside among circulars, pamphlets,
+and begging letters, to await his leisure. It was a letter from Paris,
+and vulgar and unbusiness-like as it looked, there was yet, in its
+peculiar scrivenery that which, a little more attentively scanned,
+thrilled him with a terrible misgiving. The post-mark showed it had been
+delivered four days before. When he saw from whom it came, and had
+gathered something of its meaning from a few phrases, his dark eyes
+gleamed and his face grew stern. Was this wretch's hoof to strike to
+pieces the plans he had so nearly matured? The letter was as follows:--
+
+    "SIR,
+
+    "Mr Longcluse, I have been unfortunate With your money which you
+    have Gave me to remove from England, and Keep me in New York. My
+    boxes, and other things, and Ballens of the money in Gold, except
+    about a Hundred pounds, which has kep me from want ever sense, went
+    Down in the Mary Jane, of London, and my cousin went down in her
+    also, which I might as well av Went down myself in her, only for me
+    Stopping in Paris, where I made a trifle of Money, intending to go
+    Out in August. Now, Sir, don't you Seppose I am not in as good
+    Possition as I was when I Harranged with sum difculty With you. The
+    boot with The blood Mark on the Soul is not Lost nor Distroyed, but
+    it is Safe in my Custody; so as Likewise in safe Keeping is The
+    traising, in paper, of the foot Mark in blood on the Floar of the
+    Smoaking Room in question, with the signatures of the witnesses
+    attached; and, Moreover, my Staitment made in the Form of a
+    Information, at the Time, and signed In witness of My signature by
+    two Unekseptinible witnesses. And all Is ready to Produise whenevor
+    his worshop shall Apoynt. i have wrote To mister david Arden on this
+    Supget. i wrote to him just a week ago, he seaming To take a Intrast
+    in this Heer case; and, moreover, the two ieyes that sawd a certain
+    Person about the said smoaking Room, and in the saime, is Boath wide
+    open at This presen Time. mister Longcluse i do not Want to have
+    your Life, but gustice must Taike its coarse unless it is settled of
+    hand Slik. i will harrange the Same as last time, And i must have
+    two hundred And fifty pounds More on this Settlement than i Had last
+    time, for Dellay and loss of Time in this town. I will sign any law
+    paper in reason you may ask of me. My hadress is under cover to
+    Monseer Letexier, air-dresser, and incloses his card, which you Will
+    please send an Anser by return Of post, or else i Must sepose you
+    chose The afare shall take Its coarse; and i am as ever,
+
+    "Your obeediant servant to command,
+    "PAUL DAVIES."
+
+Never did paper look so dazzlingly white, or letters so intensely black,
+before Mr. Longcluse's eyes, as those of this ominous letter. He
+crumpled it up, and thrust it in his trousers pocket, and gave to the
+position a few seconds of intense thought.
+
+His first thought was, what a fool he was for not having driven Davies
+to the wall, and settled the matter with the high hand of the law at
+once. His next, what could bring him to Paris? He was there for
+something. To see possibly the family of Lebas, and collect and dovetail
+pieces of evidence, after his detective practice, a process which would
+be sure to conduct him to the Baron Vanboeren! Was this story of the
+boot and the tracing of the bloodstained foot-print true? Had this
+scoundrel reserved the strongest part of his case for this new
+extortion? Was his trouble to be never ending? If this accursed ferret
+were once to get into his warren, what power could unearth him, till the
+mischief was done?
+
+His eye caught again the words, on which, in the expressive phrase which
+Mr. Davies would have used, his "sight spred" as he held the letter
+before his eyes--"Mister Loncluse, i do not want to have your life." He
+ground his teeth, shook his fist in the air, and stamped on the floor
+with fury, at the thought that a brutal detective, not able to spell two
+words, and trained for such game as London thieves and burglars, should
+dare to hold such language to a man of thought and skill, altogether so
+masterly as he! That he should be outwitted by that clumsy scoundrel!
+
+Well, it was now to begin all over again. It should all go right this
+time. He thought again for a moment, and then sat down and wrote,
+commencing with the date and address--
+
+    "PAUL DAVIES,
+
+    "I have just received your note, which states that you have
+    succeeded in obtaining some additional information, which you think
+    may lead to the conviction of the murderer of M. Lebas, in the
+    Saloon Tavern. I shall be most happy to pay handsomely any expense
+    of any kind you may be put to in that matter. It is, indeed, no more
+    than I had already undertaken. I am glad to learn that you have also
+    written on the subject to Mr. David Arden, who feels entirely with
+    me. I shall take an early opportunity of seeing him. Persist in your
+    laudable exertions, and I shall not shrink from rewarding you
+    handsomely.
+
+    "Yours,
+    "WALTER LONGCLUSE."
+
+He addressed the letter carefully, and went himself and put it in the
+post-office.
+
+By this time Sir Richard Arden was awaiting him at home in his
+drawing-room, and as he walked homeward, under the lamps, in inward
+pain, one might have moralised with Peter Pindar--
+
+    "These fleas have other fleas to bite 'em
+     And so on _ad infinitum_."
+
+The secret tyrant had in his turn found a secret tyrant, not less cruel
+perhaps, but more ignoble.
+
+"You made your visit?" asked Mr. Longcluse.
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Anything to report?"
+
+"Absolutely nothing."
+
+A silence followed.
+
+"Where is Mr. Arden, your uncle?"
+
+"In Scotland."
+
+"How soon does he return?"
+
+"He will not be in town till spring, I believe; he is going abroad, but
+he passes through Southampton on his way to the Continent, on Friday
+next."
+
+"And makes some little stay there?"
+
+"I think he stays one night."
+
+"Then I'll go down and see him, and you shall come with me."
+
+Sir Richard stared.
+
+"Yes, and you had better not put your foot in it; and clear your head of
+all notion of running away," he said, fixing his fiery eyes on Sir
+Richard, with a sudden ferocity that made him fancy that his secret
+thoughts had revealed themselves under that piercing gaze. "It is not
+easy to levant now-a-days, unless one has swifter wings than the wires
+can carry news with; and if you are false, what more do I need than to
+blast you? and with your name in the _Hue-and-Cry_, and a thousand
+pounds reward for the apprehension of Sir Richard Arden, Baronet, for
+forgery, I don't see much more that infamy can do for you."
+
+A dark flush crossed Arden's face as he rose.
+
+"Not a word now," cried Longcluse harshly, extending his hand quickly
+towards him; "I may do that which can't be undone."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER LXXV.
+
+BLIGHT AND CHANGE.
+
+
+Danger to herself, Alice suspected none. But she was full of dreadful
+conjectures about her brother. There was, she was persuaded, no good any
+longer in remonstrance or entreaty. She could not upbraid him; but she
+was sure that the terrible fascination of the gaming-table had caused
+the sudden ruin he vaguely confessed.
+
+"Oh," she often repeated, "that Uncle David were in town, or that I knew
+where to find him!"
+
+"But no doubt," she thought, "Richard will hide nothing from him, and
+perhaps my hinting his disclosures, even to him, would aggravate poor
+Richard's difficulties and misery."
+
+It was not until the next evening that, about the same hour, she again
+saw her brother. His good resolutions in the interval had waxed faint.
+They were not reversed, but only in the spirit of indecision, and
+something of the apathy of despair, postponed to a more convenient
+season.
+
+To her he seemed more tranquil. He said vaguely that the reasons for
+flight were less urgent and that she had better continue her
+preparations, as before, for her journey to Yorkshire.
+
+Even under these circumstances the journey to Yorkshire was pleasant.
+There was comfort in the certainty that he would there be beyond the
+reach of that fatal temptation which had too plainly all but ruined him.
+From the harrassing distractions, also, which in London had of late
+beset him, almost without intermission, he might find in the seclusion
+of Arden a temporary calm. There, with Uncle David's help, there would
+be time, at least, to ascertain the extent of his losses, and what the
+old family of Arden might still count upon as their own, and a plan of
+life might be arranged for the future.
+
+Full of these more cheery thoughts, Alice took leave of her brother.
+
+"I am going," he said, looking at his watch, "direct to Brighton; I have
+just time to get to the station nicely; business, of course--a meeting
+to-night with Bexley, who is staying there, and in the morning a long
+and, I fear, angry discussion with Charrington, who is also at
+Brighton."
+
+He kissed his sister, sighed deeply, and looking in her eyes for a
+little, fixedly, he said--
+
+"Alice, darling, you must try to think what sacrifice you can make to
+save your wretched brother."
+
+Their eyes met as she looked up, her hands about his neck, his on her
+shoulders; he drew his sister to him quickly, and with another kiss,
+turned, ran down stairs, got into his cab, and drove down the avenue.
+She stood looking after him with a heavy heart. How happy they two might
+have been, if it had not been for the one incorrigible insanity!
+
+About an hour later, as the sun was near its setting, she put on her hat
+and short grey cloak, and stepped out into its level beams, and looked
+round smiling. The golden glow and transparent shadows made that
+beautiful face look more than ever lovely. All around the air was
+ringing with the farewell songs of the small birds, and, with a heart
+almost rejoicing in sympathy with that beautiful hour, she walked
+lightly to the old garden, which in that luminous air, looked, she
+thought, so sad and pretty.
+
+The well-worn aphorism of the Frenchman, "History repeats itself," was
+about to assert itself. Sometimes it comes in literal sobriety,
+sometimes in derisive travesti, sometimes in tragic aggravation.
+
+She is in the garden now. The associations of place recall her strange
+interview with Mr. Longcluse but a few months before. Since then a
+blight has fallen on the scenery, and what a change upon the persons!
+The fruit-leaves are yellow now, and drifts of them lie upon the walks.
+Mantling ivy, as before, canopies the door, interlaced with climbing
+roses; but they have long shed their honours. This thick mass of dark
+green foliage and thorny tendrils forms a deep arched porch, in the
+shadow of which, suddenly, as on her return she reached it, she sees Mr.
+Longcluse standing within a step or two of her.
+
+He raises his hand, it might be in entreaty, it might be in menace; she
+could not, in the few alarmed moments in which she gazed at his dark
+eyes and pale equivocal face, determine anything.
+
+"Miss Arden, you may hate me; you can't despise me. You _must_ hear me,
+because you are in my power. I relent, mind you, thus far, that I give
+you one chance more of reconciliation; don't, for God's sake, throw it
+from you!" (he was extending his open hand to receive hers). "Why should
+you prefer an unequal war with me? I tell you frankly you are in my
+power--don't misunderstand me--in _my power_ to this degree, that you
+shall _voluntarily_, as the more tolerable of two alternatives, submit
+with abject acquiescence to every one of my conditions. Here is my hand;
+think of the degradation I submit to in asking you to take it. You gave
+me no chance when I asked forgiveness. I tender you a full forgiveness;
+here is my hand, beware how you despise it."
+
+Fearful as he appeared in her sight, her fear gave way before her
+kindling spirit. She had stood before him pale as death--anger now fired
+her eye and cheek.
+
+"How dare you, Sir, hold such language to me! Do you suppose, if I had
+told my brother of your cowardice and insolence as I left the abbey the
+other day, you would have dared to speak to him, much less to me? Let me
+pass, and never while you live presume to address me more."
+
+Mr. Longcluse, with a slow recoil, smiling fixedly, and bowing, drew
+back and opened the door for her to pass. He did not any longer look
+like a villain whose heart had failed him.
+
+Her heart fluttered violently with fear as she saw that he stepped out
+after her, and walked by her side toward the house. She quickened her
+pace in great alarm.
+
+"If you had liked me ever so little," said he in that faint and horrible
+tone she remembered--"one, the smallest particle, of disinterested
+liking--the grain of mustard-seed--I would have had you fast, and made
+you happy, made you _adore_ me; _such_ adoration that you could have
+heard from my own lips the confession of my crimes, and loved me
+still--loved me more desperately. Now that you hate me, and I hate
+_you_, and have you in my power, and while I hate still admire
+you--still choose you for my wife--you shall hear the same story, and
+think me all the more dreadful. You sought to degrade me, and I'll
+humble you in the dust. Suppose I tell you I'm a criminal--the kind of
+man you have read of in trials, and can't understand, and can scarcely
+even believe in--the kind of man that seems to you as unaccountable and
+monstrous as a ghost--your terrors and horror will make my triumph
+exquisite with an immense delight. I don't want to smooth the way for
+you; you do nothing for me. I disdain hypocrisy. Terror drives you on;
+fate coerces you; you can't help yourself, and my delight is to make the
+plunge terrible. I reveal myself that you may know the sort of person
+you are yoked to. Your sacrifice shall be the agony of agonies, the
+death of deaths, and yet you'll find yourself unable to resist. I'll
+make you submissive as ever patient was to a mad doctor. If it took
+years to do it, you shall never stir out of this house till it is done.
+Every spark of insolence in your nature shall be trampled out; I'll
+break you thoroughly. The sound of my step shall make your heart jump; a
+look from me shall make you dumb for an hour. You shall not be able to
+take your eyes off me while I'm in sight, or to forget me for a moment
+when I am gone. The smallest thing you do, the least word you speak, the
+very thoughts of your heart, shall all be shaped under one necessity and
+one fear." (She had reached the hall door). "Up the steps! Yes; you wish
+to enter? Certainly."
+
+With flashing eyes and head erect, the beautiful girl stepped into the
+hall, without looking to the right or to the left, or uttering one word,
+and walked quickly to the foot of the great stair.
+
+If she thought that Mr. Longcluse would respect the barrier of the
+threshold, she was mistaken. He entered but one step behind her, shut
+the heavy hall door with a crash, dropped the key into his coat pocket,
+and signing with his finger to the man in the room to the right, that
+person stood up briskly, and prepared for action. He closed the door
+again, saying simply, "I'll call."
+
+The young lady, hearing his step, turned round and stood on the stair,
+confronting him fiercely.
+
+"You must leave this house this moment," she cried, with a stamp, with
+gleaming eyes and very pale.
+
+"By-and-by," he replied, standing before her.
+
+Could this be the safe old house in which childish days had passed, in
+which all around were always friendly and familiar faces? The window
+stood reflected upon the wall beside her in dim sunset light, and the
+shadows of the flowers sharp and still that stood there.
+
+"I have friends here who will turn you out, Sir!"
+
+"You have _no_ friends here," he replied, with the same fixed smile.
+
+She hesitated; she stepped down, but stopped in the hall. She remembered
+instantly that, as she turned, she had seen him take the key from the
+hall door.
+
+"My brother will protect me."
+
+"Is he here?"
+
+"He'll call you to account to-morrow, when he comes."
+
+"Will he say so?"
+
+"Always--brave, true Richard!" she sobbed, with a strange cry in her
+words.
+
+"He'll do as I bid him: he's a forger, in my power."
+
+To her wild stare he replied with a low, faint laugh. She clasped her
+fingers over her temples.
+
+"Oh! no, no, no, no, no, no!" she screamed, and suddenly she rushed into
+the great room at her right. Her brother--was it a phantom?--stood
+before her. With one long, shrill scream, she threw herself into his
+arms, and cried, "It's a lie, darling, it's a lie!" and she had fainted.
+
+He laid her in the great chair by the fire-place. With white lips, and
+with one fist shaking wildly in the air, he said, with a dreadful shiver
+in his voice,--
+
+"You villain! you villain! you villain!"
+
+"Don't you be a fool," said Longcluse. "Ring for the maid. There must
+have been a crisis some time. I'm giving you a fair chance--trying to
+save you; they all faint--it's a trick with women."
+
+Longcluse looked into her lifeless face, with something of pity and
+horror mingling in the villany of his countenance.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER LXXVI.
+
+PHOEBE CHIFFINCH.
+
+
+Mr. Longcluse passed into the inner room, as he heard a step approaching
+from the hall. It was Louisa Diaper, in whose care, with the simple
+remedy of cold water, the young lady recovered. She was conveyed to her
+room, and Richard Arden followed, at Longcluse's command, to "keep
+things quiet."
+
+In an agony of remorse, he remained with his sister's hand in his,
+sitting by the bed on which she lay. Longcluse had spoken with the
+resolution that a few sharp and short words should accomplish the
+crisis, and show her plainly that her brother was, in the most literal
+and terrible sense, in his power, and thus, indirectly, she also.
+Perhaps, if she must know the fact, it was as well she should know it
+now.
+
+Longcluse, I suppose, had reckoned upon Richard's throwing himself upon
+his sister's mercy. He thought he had done so before, and moved her as
+he would have wished. Longcluse, no doubt, had spoken to her, expecting
+to find her in a different mood. Had she yielded, what sort of husband
+would he have made her? Not cruel, I daresay. Proud of her, he would
+have been. She should have had the best diamonds in England. Jealous,
+violent when crossed, but with all his malice and severity, easily by
+Alice to have been won, had she cared to win him, to tenderness.
+
+Was Sir Richard now seconding his scheme?
+
+Sir Richard had no plan--none for escape, none for a catastrophe, none
+for acting upon Alice's feelings.
+
+"I am so agitated--in such despair, so stunned! If I had but one clear
+hour! Oh, God! if I had but one clear hour to think in!"
+
+He was now trying to persuade Alice that Longcluse had, in his rage,
+used exaggerated language--that it was true he was in his power, but it
+was for a large sum of money, for which he was his debtor.
+
+"Yes, darling," he whispered, "only be firm. I shall get away, and take
+you with me--only be secret, and don't mind one word he says when he is
+angry--he is literally a madman; there is no limit to the violence and
+absurdity of what he says."
+
+"Is he still in the house?" she whispered.
+
+"Not he."
+
+"Are you certain?"
+
+"Perfectly; with all his rant, he dares not stay: it would be a
+police-office affair. He's gone long ago."
+
+"Thank God!" she said, with a shudder.
+
+Their agitated talk continued for some time longer. At last, darkly and
+suddenly, as usual, he took his leave.
+
+When her brother had gone, she touched the bell for Louisa Diaper. A
+stranger appeared.
+
+The stranger had a great deal of pink ribbon in her cap, she looked
+shrewd enough, and with a pair of rather good eyes; she looked curiously
+and steadily on the young lady.
+
+"Who are you?" said Alice, sitting up. "I rang for my maid, Louisa
+Diaper."
+
+"Please, my lady," she answers, with a short curtsey, "she went into
+town to fetch some things here from Sir Richard's house."
+
+"How long ago?"
+
+"Just when you was getting better, please, my lady."
+
+"When she returns send her to me. What is your name?"
+
+"Phoebe Chiffinch, please 'm."
+
+"And you are here----"
+
+"In her place, please my lady."
+
+"Well, when she comes back you can assist. We shall have a great deal to
+do, and I like your face, Phoebe, and I'm so lonely, I think I'll get you
+to sit here in the window near me."
+
+And on a sudden the young lady burst into tears, and sobbed and wept
+bitterly.
+
+The new maid was at her side, pouring all sorts of consolation into her
+ear, with odd phrases--quite intelligible, I daresay, over the bar of
+the "Guy of Warwick"--dropping h's in all directions, and bowling down
+grammatic rules like nine-pins.
+
+She was wonderfully taken by the kind looks and tones of the pretty lady
+whom she saw in this distress, and with the silk curtains drawn back in
+the fading flush of evening.
+
+Hard work, hard fare, and harder words had been her portion from her
+orphaned childhood upward, at the old "Guy of Warwick," with its dubious
+customers, failing business, and bitter and grumbling old hostess.
+Shrewd, hard, and not over-nice had Miss Phoebe grown up in that godless
+school.
+
+But she had taken a fancy, as the phrase is, to the looks of the young
+lady, and still more to her voice and words, that in her ears sounded so
+new and strange. There was not an unpleasant sense, too, of the
+superiority of rank and refinement which inspires an admiring awe in her
+kind; and so, in a voice that was rather sweet and very cheery, she
+offered, when the young lady was better, to sit by the bed and tell her
+a story, or sing her a song.
+
+Everyone knows how his view of his own case may vary within an hour.
+Alice was now of opinion that there was no reason to reject her
+brother's version of the terrifying situation. A man who could act like
+Mr. Longcluse, could, of course, say anything. She had begun to grow
+more cheerful, and in a little while she accepted the offer of her
+companion, and heard, first a story, and then a song; and, after all,
+she talked with her for some time.
+
+"Tell me, now, what servants there are in the house," asked Alice.
+
+"Only two women and myself, please, Miss."
+
+"Is there anyone else in the house, besides ourselves?"
+
+The girl looked down, and up again, in Alice's eyes, and then away to
+the floor at the other end of the room.
+
+"I was told, Ma'am, not to talk of nothing here, Miss, except my own
+business, please, my lady."
+
+"My God! This girl mayn't speak truth to me," exclaimed Alice, clasping
+her hands aghast.
+
+The girl looked up uneasily.
+
+"I should be sent away, Ma'am, if I do."
+
+"Look--listen: in this strait you must be for or against me; you can't
+be divided. For God's sake be a friend to me now. I may yet be the best
+friend you ever had. Come, Phoebe, trust me, and I'll never betray you."
+
+She took the girl's hand. Phoebe did not speak. She looked in her face
+earnestly for some moments, and then down, and up again.
+
+"I don't mind. I'll do what I can for you, Ma'am; I'll tell you what I
+know. But if you tell them, Ma'am, it will be awful bad for me, my
+lady."
+
+She looked again, very much frightened, in her face, and was silent.
+
+"No one shall ever know but I. Trust me entirely, and I'll never forget
+it to you."
+
+"Well, Ma'am, there is two men."
+
+"Who are they?"
+
+"Two men, please 'm. I knows one on 'em--he was keeper on the 'Guy o'
+Warwick,' please, my lady, when there was a hexecution in the 'ouse.
+They're both sheriff's men."
+
+"And what are they doing here?"
+
+"A hexecution, my lady."
+
+"That is, to sell the furniture and everything for a debt, isn't that
+it?" inquired the lady, bewildered.
+
+"Well, that was it below at the 'Guy o' Warwick,' Miss; but Mr. Vargers,
+he was courting me down there at the 'Guy o' Warwick,' and offered
+marriage if I would 'av 'ad him, and he tells me heverything, and he
+says that there's a paper to take you, please, my lady."
+
+"Take _me_?"
+
+"Yes, my lady; he read it to me in the room by the hall-door. Halice
+Harden, spinster, and something about the old guv'nor's will, please;
+and his horder is to take you, please, Miss, if you should offer to go
+out of the door; and there's two on 'em, and they watches turn about, so
+you can't leave the 'ouse, please, my lady; and if you try they'll only
+lock you up a prisoner in one room a-top o' the 'ouse; and, for your
+life, my lady, don't tell no one I said a word."
+
+"Oh! Phoebe. What can they mean? What's to become of me? Somehow or other
+you must get me out of this house. Help me, for God's sake! I'll throw
+myself from the window--I'll kill myself rather than remain in their
+power."
+
+"Hush! My lady, please, I may think of something yet. But don't you do
+nothing 'and hover 'ead. You must have patience. They won't be so sharp,
+maybe, in a day or two. I'll get you out if I can; and, if I can't, then
+God's will be done. And I'll make out what I can from Mr. Vargers; and
+don't you let no one think you likes me, and I'll be sly enough, you may
+count on me, my lady."
+
+Trembling all over, Alice kissed her.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER LXXVII.
+
+MORE NEWS OF PAUL DAVIES.
+
+
+Louisa Diaper did not appear that night, nor next morning. She had been
+spirited away like the rest. Sir Richard had told her that his sister
+desired that she should go into town, and stay till next day, under the
+care of the housekeeper in town, and that he would bring her a list of
+commissions which she was to do for her mistress preparatory to starting
+for Yorkshire. I daresay this young lady liked her excursion to town
+well enough. It was not till the night after that she started for the
+North.
+
+Alice Arden, for a time, lost heart altogether. It was no wonder she
+should.
+
+That her only brother should be an accomplice against her, in a plot so
+appalling, was enough to overpower her; her horror of Longcluse, the
+effectual nature of her imprisonment, and the strange and, as she
+feared, unscrupulous people by whom she had been so artfully surrounded,
+heightened her terrors to the pitch of distraction.
+
+At times she was almost wild; at others stupefied in despair; at others,
+again, soothed by the kindly intrepidity of Phoebe, she became more
+collected. Sometimes she would throw herself on her bed, and sob for an
+hour in helpless agony; and then, exhausted and overpowered, she would
+fall for a time into a deep sleep, from which she would start, for
+several minutes, without the power of collecting her thoughts, and with
+only the stifled cry, "What is it?--Where am I?" and a terrified look
+round.
+
+One day, in a calmer mood, as she sat in her room after a long talk with
+Phoebe, the girl came beside her chair with an oddly made key, with a
+little strap of white leather to the handle, in her hands.
+
+"Here's a latch-key, Miss; maybe you know what it opens?"
+
+"Where did you find it?"
+
+"In the old china vase over the chimney, please 'm."
+
+"Let me see--oh! dear, yes, this opens the door in the wall of the
+grounds, in that direction," and she pointed. "Poor papa lent it to my
+drawing-master. He lived somewhere beyond that, and used to let himself
+in by it when he came to give me my lessons."
+
+"I remember that door well, Miss," said Phoebe, looking earnestly on the
+key--"Mr. Crozier let me out that way, one day. Mr. Longcluse has put
+strangers, you know, in the gatehouse. That's shut against us. I'll tell
+you what, Miss--wait--well, I'll _think_. I'll keep this key safe,
+anyhow; and--the more the merrier," she added with a sudden alacrity,
+and lifting her finger, by way of signal, for everything now was done
+with caution here, she left the room, and passed through the suite to
+the landing, and quietly took out the door-keys, one by one, and
+returned with her spoil to Alice's room.
+
+"You thought they might lock us up?" whispered Alice.
+
+The girl nodded. "No harm to have 'em, Miss--it won't hurt us." She
+folded them tightly in a handkerchief, and thrust the parcel as far as
+her arm could reach between the mattress and the bed. "I'll rip the
+ticken a bit just now, and stitch them in," whispered the girl.
+
+"Didn't I hear another key clink as you put your hand in?" asked Alice.
+
+The girl smiled, and drew out a large key, and nodded, still smiling as
+she replaced it.
+
+"What does that open?" whispered Alice eagerly.
+
+"_Nothing_, Miss," said the girl gravely--"it's the key of the old
+back-door lock; but there's a new one there now, and this won't open
+nothing. But I have a use for it. I'll tell you all in time, Miss; and,
+please, you must keep up your heart, mind."
+
+Sir Richard Arden was not the cold villain you may suppose. He was
+resolved to make an effort of some kind for the extrication of his
+sister. He could not bear to open his dreadful situation to his Uncle
+David, nor to kill himself, nor to defy the vengeance of Longcluse. He
+would effect her escape and his own simultaneously. In the meantime he
+must acquiesce, ostensibly at least, in every step determined on by
+Longcluse.
+
+It was a bright autumnal day as Sir Richard and Mr. Longcluse took the
+rail to Southampton. Longcluse had his reasons for taking the young
+baronet with him.
+
+It was near the hour, by the time they got there, when David Arden would
+arrive from his northern point of departure. Longcluse looked
+animated--smiling; but a stupendous load lay on his heart. A single
+clumsy phrase in the letter of that detective scoundrel might be enough
+to direct the formidable suspicions of that energetic old gentleman upon
+him. The next hour might throw him altogether upon the defensive, and
+paralyse his schemes.
+
+Alice Arden, you little dream of the man and the route by which,
+possibly, deliverance is speeding to you.
+
+Near the steps of the large hotel that looks seaward, Longcluse and Sir
+Richard lounge, expecting the arrival of David Arden almost momentarily.
+Up drives a fly, piled with portmanteaus, hat-case, dressing-case, and
+all the other travelling appurtenances of a comfortable wayfarer. Beside
+the driver sits a servant. The fly draws up at the door near them.
+
+Mr. Longcluse's seasoned heart throbs once or twice oddly. Out gets
+Uncle David, looking brown and healthy after his northern excursion. On
+reaching the top of the steps, he halts, and turns round to look about
+him. Again Mr. Longcluse feels the same odd sensation.
+
+Uncle David recognises Sir Richard, and smiling greets him. He runs down
+the steps to meet him. After they have shaken hands, and, a little more
+coldly, he and Mr. Longcluse, he says,--
+
+"You are not looking yourself, Dick; you ought to have run down to the
+moors, and got up an appetite. How is Alice?"
+
+"Alice? Oh! Alice is very well, thanks."
+
+"I should like to run up to Mortlake to see her. She has been
+complaining, eh?"
+
+"No, no--better," says Sir Richard.
+
+"And you forget to tell your uncle what you told me," interposes Mr.
+Longcluse, "that Miss Arden left Mortlake for Yorkshire yesterday."
+
+"Oh!" said Uncle David, turning to Richard again.
+
+"And the servants went before--two or three days ago," said Sir Richard,
+looking down for a moment, and hastening, under that clear eye, to speak
+a little truth.
+
+"Well, I wish she had come with us," said David Arden; "but as she could
+not be persuaded, I'm glad she is making a little change of air and
+scene, in any direction. By-the-bye, Mr. Longcluse, you had a letter,
+had not you, from our friend, Paul Davies?"
+
+"Yes; he seemed to think he had found a clue--from Paris it was--and I
+wrote to tell him to spare no expense in pushing his inquiries and to
+draw upon me."
+
+"Well, I have some news to tell you. His exploring voyage will come to
+nothing; you did not hear?"
+
+"No."
+
+"Why, the poor fellow's dead. I got a letter--it reached me, forwarded
+from my house in town, yesterday, from the person who hires the
+lodgings--to say he had died of scarlatina very suddenly, and sending an
+inventory of the things he left. It is a pity, for he seemed a smart
+fellow, and sanguine about getting to the bottom of it."
+
+"An awful pity!" exclaimed Longcluse, who felt as if a mountain were
+lifted from his heart, and the entire firmament had lighted up; "an
+awful pity! Are you quite sure?"
+
+"There can't be a doubt, I'm sorry to say. Then, as Alice has taken
+wing, I'll pursue my first plan, and cross by the next mail."
+
+"For Paris?" inquired Mr. Longcluse, carelessly.
+
+"Yes, Sir, for Paris," answered Uncle David deliberately, looking at
+him; "yes, for Paris."
+
+And then followed a little chat on indifferent subjects. Then Uncle
+David mentioned that he had an appointment, and must dine with the dull
+but honest fellow who had asked him to meet him here on a matter of
+business, which would have done just as well next year, but he wished it
+now. Uncle David nodded, and waved his hand, as on entering the door he
+gave them a farewell smile over his shoulder.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER LXXVIII.
+
+THE CATACOMBS.
+
+
+At his disappearance, for Sir Richard the air darkened as when, in the
+tropics, the sun sets without a twilight, and the silence of an awful
+night descended.
+
+It seemed that safety had been so near. He had laid his hand upon it,
+and had let it glide ungrasped between his fingers; and now the sky was
+black above him, and an unfathomable sea beneath.
+
+Mr. Longcluse was in great spirits. He had grown for a time like the
+Walter Longcluse of a year before.
+
+They two dined together, and after dinner Mr. Longcluse grew happy, and
+as he sat with his glass by him, he sang, looking over the waves, a
+sweet little sentimental song, about ships that pass at sea, and smiles
+and tears, and "true, boys, true," and "heaven shows a glimpse of its
+blue." And he walks with Sir Richard to the station, and he says, low,
+as he leans and looks into the carriage window, of which young Arden was
+the only occupant--
+
+"Be true to me now, and we may make it up yet."
+
+And so saying, he gives his hand a single pressure as he looks hard in
+his eyes.
+
+The bell had rung. He was remaining there, he said, for another train.
+The clapping of the doors had ceased. He stood back. The whistle blew
+its long piercing yell, and as the train began to glide towards London,
+the young man saw the white face of Walter Longcluse in deep shadow, as
+he stood with his back to the lamp, still turned towards him.
+
+The train was now thundering on its course; the solitary lamp glimmered
+in the roof. He threw himself back, with his foot against the opposite
+seat.
+
+"Good God! what is one to resolve! All men are cruel when they are
+exasperated. Might not good yet be made of Longcluse? What creatures
+women are!--what fools! How easy all might have been made, with the
+least temper and reflection! What d----d selfishness!"
+
+                   *       *       *       *       *
+
+Uncle David was now in Paris. The moon was shining over that beautiful
+city. In a lonely street, in a quarter which fashion had long
+forsaken--over whose pavement, as yet unconscious of the Revolution, had
+passed, in the glare of torchlight, the carved and emblazoned carriages
+of an aristocracy, as shadowy now as the courts of the Caesars--his
+footsteps are echoing.
+
+A huge house presents its front. He stops and examines it carefully for
+a few seconds. It is the house of which he is in search.
+
+At one time the Baron Vanboeren had received patients from the country,
+to reside in this house. For the last year, during which he had been
+gathering together his wealth, and detaching himself from business, he
+had discontinued this, and had gradually got rid of his establishment.
+
+When David Arden rang the bell at the hall-door, which he had to do
+repeatedly, it was answered at last by an old woman, high-shouldered,
+skin and bone, with a great nose, and big jaw-bones, and a high-cauled
+cap. This lean creature looks at him with a vexed and hollow eye. Her
+bony arm rests on the lock of the hall-door, and she blocks the narrow
+aperture between its edge and the massive door-case. She inquires in
+very nasal French what Monsieur desires.
+
+"I wish to see Monsieur the Baron, if he will permit me an interview,"
+answered Mr. Arden in very fair French.
+
+"Monsieur the Baron is not visible; but if Monsieur will,
+notwithstanding, leave any message he pleases for Monsieur the Baron, I
+will take care he receives it punctually."
+
+"But Monsieur the Baron appointed me to call to-night at ten o'clock."
+
+"Is Monsieur sure of that?"
+
+"Perfectly."
+
+"Eh, very well; but, if he pleases, I must first learn Monsieur's name."
+
+"My name is Arden."
+
+"I believe Monsieur is right." She took a bit of notepaper from her
+capacious pocket, and peering at it, spelled aloud, "D-a-v-i-d----"
+
+"A-r-d-e-n," interrupted and continued the visitor, spelling his name,
+with a smile.
+
+"A-r-d-e-n," she followed, reading slowly from her paper; "yes, Monsieur
+is right. You see, this paper says, 'Admit Monsieur David Arden to an
+interview.' Enter, if you please Monsieur, and follow me."
+
+It was a decayed house of superb proportions, but of a fashion long
+passed away. The gaunt old woman, with a bunch of large keys clinking at
+her side, stalked up the broad stairs and into a gallery, and through
+several rooms opening _en suite_. The rooms were hung with cobwebs,
+dusty, empty, and the shutters closed, except here and there where the
+moonlight gleamed through chinks and seams.
+
+David Arden, before he had seen the Baron Vanboeren in London, had
+pictured him in imagination a tall old man with classic features, and
+manners courteous and somewhat stately.
+
+We do not fabricate such images; they rise like exhalations from a few
+scattered data, and present themselves spontaneously. It is this
+self-creation that invests them with so much reality in our
+imaginations, and subjects us to so odd a surprise when the original
+turns out quite unlike the portrait with which we have been amusing
+ourselves.
+
+She now pushed open a door, and said, "Monsieur the Baron here is
+arrived Monsieur David d'Ardennes."
+
+The room in which he now stood was spacious, but very nearly dark. The
+shutters were closed outside, and the moonlight that entered came
+through the circular hole cut in each. A large candle on a bracket
+burned at the further end of the room. There the baron stood. A
+reflector which interposed between the candle and the door at which
+David Arden entered directed its light strongly upon something which the
+baron held, and laid upon the table, in his hand; and now that he turned
+toward his visitor, it was concentrated upon his large face, revealing,
+with the force of a Rembrandt, all its furrows and finer wrinkles. He
+stood out against a background of darkness with remarkable force.
+
+The baron stood before him--a short man in a red waistcoat. He looked
+more broad-shouldered and short-necked than ever in his shirt-sleeves.
+He had an instrument in his hand resembling a small bit and brace, and
+some chips and sawdust on his flannel waistcoat, which he brushed off
+with two or three sweeps of his short fat fingers. He looked now like a
+grim old mechanic. There was no vivacity in his putty-coloured features,
+but there were promptitude and decision in every abrupt gesture. It was
+his towering, bald forehead, and something of command and savage energy
+in his lowering face, that redeemed the _tout ensemble_ from an almost
+brutal vulgarity.
+
+The baron was not in the slightest degree "put out," as the phrase is,
+at being detected in his present occupation and _deshabille_.
+
+He bowed twice to David Arden, and said, in English, with a little
+foreign accent--
+
+"Here is a chair, Monsieur Arden; but you can hardly see it until your
+eyes have grown a little accustomed to our _crepuscula_."
+
+This was true enough, for David Arden, though he saw him advance a step
+or two, could not have known what he held in the hand that was in
+shadow. The sound, indeed, of the legs of the chair, as he set it down
+upon the floor, he heard.
+
+"I should make you an apology, Mr. Arden, if I were any longer in my own
+home, which I am not, although this is still my house; for I have
+dismissed my servants, sold my furniture, and sent what things I cared
+to retain over the frontier to my new habitation, whither I shall soon
+follow; and this house too, I shall sell. I have already two or three
+gudgeons nibbling, Monsieur."
+
+"This house must have been the hotel of some distinguished family,
+Baron; it is nobly proportioned," said David Arden.
+
+As his eye became accustomed to the gloom, David Arden saw traces of
+gilding on the walls. The shattered frames on which the tapestry was
+stretched in old times remained in the panels, with crops of small,
+rusty nails visible. The faint candle-light glimmered on a ponderous
+gilded cornice, which had also sustained violence. The floor was bare,
+with a great deal of litter, and some scanty furniture. There was a
+lathe near the spot where David Arden stood, and shavings and splinters
+under his feet. There was a great block with a vice attached. In a
+portion of the fire-place was built a furnace. There were pincers and
+other instruments lying about the room, which had more the appearance of
+an untidy workshop than of a study, and seemed a suitable enough abode
+for the uncouth figure that confronted him.
+
+"Ha! Monsieur," growls the baron, "stone walls have ears, you say if
+only they had tongues; what tales _these_ could tell! This house was one
+of Madame du Barry's, and was sacked in the great Revolution. The
+mirrors were let into the plaster in the walls. In some of the rooms
+there are large fragments still stuck in the wall so fast, you would
+need a hammer and chisel to dislodge and break them up. This room was an
+ante-room, and admitted to the lady's bed-room by two doors, this and
+that. The panels of that other, by which you entered from the stair,
+were of mirror. They were quite smashed. The furniture, I suppose, flew
+out of the window; everything was broken up in small bits, and torn to
+rags, or carried off to the broker after the first fury, and
+_sansculotte_ families came in and took possession of the wrecked
+apartments. You will say then, what was left? The bricks, the stones,
+hardly the plaster on the walls. Yet, Monsieur Arden, I have discovered
+some of the best treasures the house contained, and they are at present
+in this room. Are you a collector, Monsieur Arden?"
+
+Uncle David disclaimed the honourable imputation. He was thinking of
+cutting all this short, and bringing the baron to the point. The old man
+was at the period when the egotism of age asserts itself, and was
+garrulous, and being, perhaps, despotic and fierce (he looked both), he
+might easily take fire and become impracticable. Therefore, on second
+thoughts, he was cautious.
+
+"You can now see more plainly," said the baron. "Will you approach?
+Concealed by a double covering of strong paper pasted over it, and
+painted and gilded, each of these two doors on its six panels contains
+six distinct master-pieces of Watteau's. I have known that for ten
+years, and have postponed removing them. Twelve Watteaus, as fine as any
+in the world! I would not trust their removal to any other hand, and so,
+the panel comes out without a shake. Come here, Monsieur, if you please.
+This candle affords a light sufficient to see, at least, some of the
+beauties of these incomparable works."
+
+"Thanks, Baron, a glance will suffice, for I am nothing of an artist."
+
+He approached. It was true that his sight had grown accustomed to the
+obscurity, for he could now see the baron's features much more
+distinctly. His large waxen face was shorn smooth, except on the upper
+lip, where a short moustache still bristled; short black eyebrows
+contrasted also with the bald massive forehead, and round the eyes was a
+complication of mean and cunning wrinkles. Some peculiar lines between
+these contracted brows gave a character of ferocity to this forbidding
+and sensual face.
+
+"Now! See there! Those four pictures--I would not sell those four
+Watteaus for one hundred thousand francs. And the other door is worth
+the same. Ha!"
+
+"You are lucky, Baron."
+
+"I think so. I do not wish to part with them: I don't think of selling
+them. See the folds of that brocade! See the ease and grace of the lady
+in the sacque, who sits on the bank there, under the myrtles, with the
+guitar on her lap! and see the animation and elegance of that dancing
+boy with the tambourine! This is a _chef-d'oeuvre_. I ought not to part
+with that, on any terms--no, never! You no doubt know many collectors,
+wealthy men, in England. Look at that shot silk, green and purple; and
+whom do you take that to be a portrait of, that lady with the
+castanets?"
+
+He was pointing out each object, on which he descanted, with his stumpy
+finger, his hands being, I am bound to admit, by no means clean.
+
+"If you do happen to know such people, nevertheless, I should not object
+to your telling them where this treasure may be seen, I've no objection.
+I should not like to part with them, that is true. No, no, _no_; but
+every man may be tempted, it is possible--possible, just possible."
+
+"I shall certainly mention them to some friends."
+
+"Wealthy men, of course," said the baron.
+
+"It is an expensive taste, Baron, and none but wealthy people can
+indulge it."
+
+"True, and these would be _very_ expensive. They are unique; that lady
+there is the _Du Barry_--a portrait worth, alone, six thousand francs.
+Ha! he! Yes, when I take zese out and place zem, as I mean before I go,
+to be seen, they will bring all Europe together. _Mit speck fangt man
+mause_--with bacon one catches mice!"
+
+"No doubt they will excite attention, Baron. But I feel I am wasting
+your time and abusing your courtesy in permitting my visit, the
+immediate object of which was to earnestly beg from you some information
+which, I think, no one else can give me."
+
+"Information? Oh! ah! Pray resume your chair, Sir. Information? yes, it
+is quite possible I may have information such as you need, Heaven knows!
+But knowledge, they say, is power, and if I do you a service I expect as
+much from you. _Eine hand wascht die and're_--one hand, Monsieur, washes
+ze ozer. No man parts wis zat which is valuable, to strangers, wisout a
+proper honorarium. I receive no more patients here; but you understand,
+I may be induced to attend a patient: I may be _tempted_, you
+understand."
+
+"But this is not a case of attending a patient, Baron," said David
+Arden, a little haughtily.
+
+"And what ze devil _is_ it, then?" said the baron, turning on him
+suddenly. "Monsieur will pardon me, but we professional men must turn
+our time and knowledge to account, do you see? And we don't give eizer
+wizout being paid, and _well_ paid for them, eh?"
+
+"Of course. I meant nothing else," said David Arden.
+
+"Then, Sir, we understand one another so far, and that saves time. Now,
+what information can the Baron Vanboeren give to Monsieur David Arden?"
+
+"I think you would prefer my putting my questions quite straight."
+
+"Straight as a sword-thrust, Sir."
+
+"Then, Baron, I want to know whether you were acquainted with two
+persons, Yelland Mace and Walter Longcluse."
+
+"Yes, I knew zem bos, slightly and yet intimately--intimately and yet
+but slightly. You wish, perhaps, to learn particulars about those
+gentlemen?"
+
+"I do."
+
+"Go on: interrogate."
+
+"Do you perfectly recollect the features of these persons?"
+
+"I ought."
+
+"Can you give me an accurate description of Yelland Mace?"
+
+"I can bring you face to face with both."
+
+"By Jove! Sir, are you serious?"
+
+"Mr. Longcluse is in London."
+
+"But you talk of bringing me face to face with them; how soon?"
+
+"In five minutes."
+
+"Oh, you mean a photograph, or a picture?"
+
+"No, in the solid. Here is the key of the catacombs." And he took a key
+that hung from a nail on the wall.
+
+"Bah, ha, yah!" exploded the baron, in a ferocious sneer, rather than a
+laugh, and shrugging his great shoulders to his ears, he shook them in
+barbarous glee, crying--"What clever fellow you are, Monsieur Arden! you
+see so well srough ze millstone! _Ich bin klug und weise_--you sing zat
+song. I am intelligent and wise, eh, he! gra-a, ha, ha!"
+
+He seized the candlestick in one hand, and shaking the key in the other
+by the side of his huge forehead, he nodded once or twice to David
+Arden.
+
+"Not much life where we are going; but you shall see zem bose."
+
+"You speak riddles, Baron; but by all means bring me, as you say, face
+to face with them."
+
+"Very good, Monsieur; you'll follow me," said the baron. And he opened a
+door that admitted to the gallery, and, with the candle and the keys, he
+led the way, by this corridor, to an iron door that had a singular
+appearance, being sunk two feet back in a deep wooden frame, that threw
+it into shadow. This he unlocked, and with an exertion of his weight and
+strength, swung slowly open.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER LXXIX.
+
+RESURRECTIONS.
+
+
+David Arden entered this door, and found himself under a vaulted roof of
+brick. These were the chambers, for there was at least two, which the
+baron termed his catacombs. Along both walls of the narrow apartment
+were iron doors, in deep recesses, that looked like the huge ovens of an
+ogre, sunk deep in the wall, and the baron looked himself not an
+unworthy proprietor. The baron had the General's faculty of remembering
+faces and names.
+
+"Monsieur Yelland Mace? Yes, I will show you him; he is among ze dead."
+
+"Dead?"
+
+"Ay, zis right side is _dead_--all zese."
+
+"Do you mean," says David Arden, "_literally_ that Yelland Mace is no
+longer living?"
+
+"A, B, C, D, E, F, G," mutters the baron, slowly pointing his finger
+along the right wall.
+
+"I beg your pardon, Baron, but I don't think you heard me," said David
+Arden.
+
+"_Perfectly_, excuse me: H, I, J, K, L, M--M. I will show you _now_, if
+you desire it, Yelland Mace; you shall see him now, and never behold him
+more. Do you wish very much?"
+
+"Intensely--_most_ intensely!" said Uncle David earnestly.
+
+The baron turned full upon him, and leaned his shoulders against the
+iron door of the recess. He had taken from his pocket a bunch of heavy
+keys, which he dangled from his clenched fingers, and they made a faint
+jingle in the silence that followed, for a few seconds.
+
+"Permit me to ask," said the baron, "are your inquiries directed to a
+legal object?"
+
+"I have no difficulty in saying yes," answered he; "a legal object,
+strictly."
+
+"A legal object, by which you gain considerably?" he asked slowly.
+
+"By which I gain the satisfaction of seeing justice done upon a
+villain."
+
+"That is fine, Monsieur. Eternal justice! I have thought and said that
+very often: _Vive la justice eternelle!_ especially when her sword
+shears off the head of my enemy, and her scale is laden with napoleons
+for my purse."
+
+"Monsieur le Baron mistakes, in my case; I have absolutely nothing to
+gain by the procedure I propose; it is strictly criminal," said David
+Arden drily.
+
+"Not an estate? not a slice of an estate? Come, come! _Thorheit!_ That
+is foolish talk."
+
+"I have told you already, nothing," repeated David Arden.
+
+"Then you don't care, in truth, a single napoleon, whether you win or
+lose. We have been wasting our time, Sir. I have no time to bestow for
+nothing; my minutes count by the crown, while I remain in Paris. I shall
+soon depart, and practise no more; and my time will become my own--still
+my own, by no means _yours_. I am candid, Sir, and I think you cannot
+misunderstand me; I must be paid for my time and opportunities."
+
+"I never meant anything else," said Mr. Arden sturdily; "I shall pay you
+liberally for any service you render me."
+
+"That, Sir, is equally frank; we understand now the principle on which I
+assist you. You wish to see Yelland Mace, so you shall."
+
+He turned about, and struck the key sharply on the iron door.
+
+"There he waits," said the baron, "and--did you ever see him?"
+
+"No."
+
+"Bah! what a wise man. Then I may show you whom I please, and you know
+nothing. Have you heard him described?"
+
+"Accurately."
+
+"Well, there is some little sense in it, after all. You shall see."
+
+He unlocked the safe, opened the door, and displayed shelves, laden with
+rudely-made deal boxes, each of a little more than a foot square. On
+these were marks and characters in red, some, and some in black, and
+others in blue.
+
+"He! you see," said the baron, pointing with his key, "my mummies are
+cased in hieroglyphics. Come! _Here_ is the number, the date, and the
+man."
+
+And lifting them carefully one off the other, he took out a deal box
+that had stood in the lowest stratum. The cover was loose, except for a
+string tied about it. He laid it upon the floor, and took out a plaster
+mask, and brushing and blowing off the saw-dust, held it up.
+
+David Arden saw a face with large eyes closed, a very high and thin
+nose, a good forehead, a delicately chiselled mouth; the upper lip,
+though well formed after the Greek model, projected a little, and gave
+to the chin the effect of receding in proportion. This slight defect
+showed itself in profile; but the face, looked at full front, was on the
+whole handsome, and in some degree even interesting.
+
+"You are quite sure of the identity of this?" asked Uncle David
+earnestly.
+
+There was a square bit of parchment, with two or three short lines, in a
+character which he did not know, glued to the concave reverse of the
+mask. The baron took it, and holding the light near, read, "Yelland
+Mace, suspect for his politics, May 2nd, 1844."
+
+"Yes," said Mr. Arden, having renewed his examination, "it very exactly
+tallies with the description; the nose aquiline, but very delicately
+formed. Is that writing in cypher?"
+
+"Yes, in cypher."
+
+"And in what language?"
+
+"German."
+
+David Arden looked at it.
+
+"You will make nothing of it. In these inscriptions, I have employed
+eight languages--five European, and three Asiatic--I am, you see,
+something of a linguist--and four distinct cyphers; so having that
+skill, I gave the benefit of it to my _friends_; this being secret."
+
+"Secret?--oh!" said Uncle David.
+
+"Yes, secret; and you will please to say nothing of it to any living
+creature until the twenty-first of October next, when I retire. You
+understand commerce, Mr. Arden. My practice is confidential, and I
+should lose perhaps eighty thousand francs in the short space that
+intervenes, if I were thought to have played a patient such a trick. It
+is but twenty days of reserve, and then I go and laugh at them, every
+one. Piff, puff, paff! ha! ha!"
+
+"Yes, I promise that also," said Uncle David dryly, and to himself he
+thought, "What a consummate old scoundrel!"
+
+"Very good, Sir; we shall want this of Yelland Mace again, just now; his
+face and coffin, ha! ha! can rest there for the present." He had
+replaced the mask in its box, and that lay on the floor. The door of the
+iron press he shut and locked. "Next, I will show you Mr. Longcluse:
+those are dead."
+
+He waved his short hand toward the row of iron doors which he had just
+visited.
+
+"Please, Sir, walk with me into this room. Ay, so. Here are the
+_resurrections_. Will you be good enough--L, Longcluse, M, one, two,
+three, four; _three_, yes, to hold this candlestick for a moment?"
+
+The baron unlocked this door, and, after some rummaging, he took forth a
+box similar to that he had taken out before.
+
+"Yes, right, Walter Longcluse. I tell you how you will see it best:
+there is brilliant moonlight, stand there."
+
+Through a circular hole in the wall there streamed a beam of moonlight,
+that fell upon the plaster-wall opposite with the distinctness of the
+circle of a magic-lantern.
+
+"You see it--you know it! Ha! ha! His pretty face!"
+
+He held the mask up in the moonlight, and the lineaments, sinister
+enough, of Mr. Longcluse stood, sharply defined in every line and
+feature, in intense white and black, against the vacant shadow behind.
+There was the flat nose, the projecting underjaw, the oblique, sarcastic
+eyebrow, even the line of the slight but long scar, than ran nearly from
+his eye to his nostril. The same, but younger.
+
+"There is no doubt about _that_. But when was it taken? Will you read
+what is written upon it?"
+
+Uncle David had taken out the candle, and he held it beside the mask.
+The baron turned it round, and read, "Walter Longcluse, 15th October,
+1844."
+
+"The same year in which Mace's was taken?"
+
+"So it is, 1844."
+
+"But there is a great deal more than you have read, written upon the
+parchment in this one."
+
+"It looks more."
+
+"And _is_ more. Why, count the words, one, two, four, six, eight. There
+must be thirty, or upwards."
+
+"Well, suppose there are, Sir: I have read, nevertheless, all I mean to
+read for the present. Suppose we bring these three masks together. We
+can talk a little then, and I will perhaps tell you more, and disclose
+to you some secrets of nature and art, of which perhaps you suspect
+nothing. Come, come, Monsieur! kindly take the candle."
+
+The baron shut the iron door with a clang, and locked it, and, taking up
+the box, marched into the next room, and placing the boxes one on top of
+the other, carried them in silence out upon the gallery, accompanied by
+David Arden.
+
+How desolate seemed the silence of the vast house, in all which, by this
+time, perhaps, there did not burn another light!
+
+They now re-entered the large and strangely-littered chamber in which he
+had talked with the baron; they stop among the chips and sawdust with
+which his work has strewn the floor.
+
+"Set the candle on this table," says he. "I'll light another for a time.
+See all the trouble and time you cost me!"
+
+He placed the two boxes on the table.
+
+"I am extremely sorry----"
+
+"Not on my account, you needn't. You'll pay me well for it."
+
+"So I will, Baron."
+
+"Sit you down on that, Monsieur."
+
+He placed a clumsy old chair, with a balloon-back, for his visitor, and,
+seating himself upon another, he struck his hand on the table, and said,
+arresting for a moment the restless movement of his eyes, and fixing on
+him a savage stare--
+
+"You shall see wonders and hear marvels, if only you are willing to pay
+what they are worth." The baron laughed when he had said this.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER LXXX.
+
+ANOTHER.
+
+
+"You shall sit here, Mr. Arden," said the baron, placing a chair for
+him. "You shall be comfortable. I grow in confidence with you. I feel
+inwardly an intuition when I speak wis a man of honour; my demon, as it
+were, whispers 'Trust him, honour him, make much of him.' Will you take
+a pipe, or a mug of beer?"
+
+This abrupt invitation Mr. Arden civilly declined.
+
+"Well, I shall have my pipe and beer. See, there is ze barrel--not far
+to go." He raised the candle, and David Arden saw for the first time the
+outline of a veritable beer-barrel in the corner, on tressels, such as
+might have regaled a party of boors in the clear shadow of a Teniers.
+
+"There is the comely beer-cask, not often seen in Paris, in the corner
+of our boudoir, resting against the only remaining rags of the sky-blue
+and gold silk--it is rotten now--with which the room was hung, and a
+gilded cornice--it is black now--over its head; and now, instead of
+beautiful women and graceful youths, in gold lace and cut velvets and
+perfumed powder, there are but one rheumatic and crooked old woman, and
+one old Prussian doctor, in his shirt-sleeves, ha! ha! _mutat terra
+vices!_ Come, we shall look at these again, and you shall hear more."
+
+He placed the two masks upon the chimney-piece, leaning against the
+wall.
+
+"And we will illuminate them," says he; and he takes, one after the
+other, half a dozen pieces of wax candle, and dripping the melting wax
+on the chimney-piece, he sticks each candle in turn in a little pool of
+its own wax.
+
+"I spare nothing, you see, to make all plain. Those two faces present a
+marked contrast. Do you, Mr. Arden, know anything, ever so little, of
+the fate of Yelland Mace?"
+
+"Nothing. Is he living?"
+
+"Suppose he is dead, what then?"
+
+"In that case, of course, I take my leave of the inquiry, and of you,
+asking you simply one question, whether there was any correspondence
+between Yelland Mace and Walter Longcluse?"
+
+"A very intimate correspondence," said the baron.
+
+"Of what nature?"
+
+"Ha! They have been combined in business, in pleasures, in crimes," said
+the baron. "Look at them. Can you believe it? So dissimilar! They are
+opposites in form and character, as if fashioned in expression and in
+feature each to contradict the other; yet so united!"
+
+"And in crime, you say?"
+
+"Ay, in crime--in all things."
+
+"Is Yelland Mace still living?" urged David Arden.
+
+"Those features, in life, you will never behold, Sir."
+
+"He is dead. You said that you took that mask from among the dead. _Is_
+he dead?"
+
+"No, Sir; not actually dead, but under a strange condition. Bah; Don't
+you see I have a secret? Do you prize very highly learning where he is?"
+
+"Very highly, provided he may be secured and brought to trial; and you,
+Baron, must arrange to give your testimony to prove his identity."
+
+"Yes; that would be indispensible," said the baron, whose eyes were
+sweeping the room from corner to corner, fiercely and swiftly. "Without
+me you can never lift the veil; without me you can never unearth your
+stiff and pale Yelland Mace, nor without me identify and hang him."
+
+"I rely upon your aid, Baron," said Mr. Arden, who was becoming
+agitated. "Your trouble shall be recompensed; you may depend upon my
+honour."
+
+"I am running a certain risk. I am not a fool, though, like little
+Lebas. I am not to be made away with like a kitten; and once I move in
+this matter, I burn my ships behind me, and return to my splendid
+practice, under no circumstances, ever again."
+
+The baron's pallid face looked more bloodless, his accent was fiercer,
+and his countenance more ruffianly as he uttered all this.
+
+"I understood, Baron, that you had quite made up your mind to retire
+within a very few weeks," said David Arden.
+
+"Does any man who has lived as long as you or I quite trust his own
+resolution? No one likes to be nailed to a plan of action an hour before
+he need be. I find my practice more lucrative every day. I may be
+tempted to postpone my retirement, and for a while longer to continue to
+gather the golden harvest that ripens round me. But once I take this
+step, all is up with that. You see--you understand. Bah! you are no
+fool; it is plain, all I sacrifice."
+
+"Of course, Baron, you shall take no trouble, and make no sacrifice,
+without ample compensation. But are you aware of the nature of the crime
+committed by that man?"
+
+"I never trouble my head about details; it is enough, the man is a
+political refugee, and his object concealment."
+
+"But he was no political refugee; he had nothing to do with politics--he
+was simply a murderer and a robber."
+
+"What a little rogue! Will you excuse my smoking a pipe and drinking a
+little beer? Now, he never hinted that, although I knew him very
+intimately, for he was my patient for some months; never hinted it, he
+was so sly."
+
+"And Mr. Longcluse, was _he_ your patient also?"
+
+"Ha! to be sure he was. You won't drink some beer? No; well, in a
+moment."
+
+He drew a little jugful from the cask, and placed it, and a pewter
+goblet, on the table, and then filled, lighted, and smoked his pipe as
+he proceeded.
+
+"I will tell you something concerning those gentlemen, Mr. Longcluse and
+Mr. Mace, which may amuse you. Listen."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER LXXXI.
+
+BROKEN.
+
+
+"My hands were very full," said the baron, displaying his stumpy
+fingers. "I received patients in this house; I had what you call many
+irons in ze fire. I was making napoleons then, I don't mind telling you,
+as fast as a man could run bullets. My minutes counted by the crown. It
+was in the month of May, 1844, late at night, a man called here, wanting
+to consult me. He called himself Herr von Konigsmark. I went down and
+saw him in my audience room. He knew I was to be depended upon. Such
+people tell one another who may be trusted. He told me he was an
+Austrian proscribed: very good. He proposed to place himself in my
+hands: very well. I looked him in the face--you have _there_ exactly
+what I saw."
+
+He extended his hand toward the mask of Yelland Mace.
+
+"'You are an Austrian,' I said, 'a native subject of the empire?'
+
+"'Yes.'
+
+"'Italian?'
+
+"'No.'
+
+"'Hungarian?'
+
+"'No.'
+
+"'Well, you are not _German_--ha, ha!--I can swear to that.'
+
+"He was speaking to me in German.
+
+"'Your accent is foreign. Come, confidence. You must be no impostor. I
+must make no mistake, and blunder into a national type of features, all
+wrong; if I make your mask, it must do us credit. I know many
+gentlemen's secrets, and as many ladies' secrets. A man of honour! What
+are you afraid of?'"
+
+"You were not a statuary?" said Uncle David, astonished at his
+versatility.
+
+"Oh, yes! A statuary, but only in grotesque, you understand. I will show
+you some of my work by-and-by."
+
+"And I shall perhaps understand."
+
+"You _shall_, _perfectly_. With some reluctance, then, he admitted that
+what I positively asserted was true; for I told him I knew from his
+accent he was an Englishman. Then, with some little pressure, I invited
+him to tell his name. He did--it was Yelland Mace. _That_ is Yelland
+Mace."
+
+He had now finished his pipe: he went over to the chimney-piece, and
+having knocked out the ashes, and with his pipe pointing to the tip of
+the long thin plaster nose, he said, "Look well at him. Look till you
+know all his features by rote. Look till you fix them for the rest of
+your days well in memory, and then say what in the devil's name you
+could make of them. Look at that high nose, as thin as a fish-knife.
+Look at the line of the mouth and chin; see the mild gentlemanlike
+contour. If you find a fellow with a flat nose, and a pair of upper
+tusks sticking out an inch, and a squint that turns out one eye like the
+white of an egg, you pull out the tusks, you raise the skin of the nose,
+slice a bit out of the cheek, and make a false bridge, as high as you
+please; heal the cheek with a stitch or two, and operate with the lancet
+for the squint, and your bust is complete. Bravo! you understand?"
+
+"I confess, Baron, I do not."
+
+"You shall, however. Here is the case--a political refugee, like
+Monsieur Yelland Mace----"
+
+"But he was no such thing."
+
+"Well, a criminal--any man in such a situation is, for me, a political
+refugee zat, for reasons, desires to revisit his country, and yet must
+be so thoroughly disguised zat by no surprise, and by no process, can he
+be satisfactorily recognised; he comes to me, tells me his case, and
+says, 'I desire, Baron, to become your patient,' and so he places
+himself in my hands, and so--ha, ha! You begin to perceive?"
+
+"Yes, I do! I think I understand you clearly. But, Lord bless me! what a
+nefarious trade!" exclaimed Uncle David.
+
+The baron was not offended; he laughed.
+
+"Nevertheless," said he, "There's no harm in that. Not that I care much
+about the question of right or wrong in the matter; but there's none.
+Bah! who's the worse of his going back? or, if he did not, who's the
+better?"
+
+Uncle David did not care to discuss this point in ethics, but simply
+said,--
+
+"And Mr. Longcluse was also a patient of yours?"
+
+"Yes, certainly," said the baron.
+
+"We Londoners know nothing of his history," said Mr. Arden.
+
+"A political refugee, like Mr. Mace," said the baron. "Now, look at Herr
+Yelland Mace. It was a severe operation, but a beautiful one! I opened
+the skin with a single straight cut from the lachrymal gland to the
+nostril, and one underneath meeting it, you see" (he was tracing the
+line of the scalpel with the stem of his pipe), "along the base of the
+nose from the point. Then I drew back the skin over the bridge, and then
+I operated on the bone and cartilage, cutting them and the muscle at the
+extremity down to a level with the line of the face, and drew the flap
+of skin back, cutting it to meet the line of the skin of the cheek;
+_there_, you see, so much for the nose. Now see the curved eyebrow.
+Instead of that very well marked arch, I resolved it should slant from
+the radix of the nose in a straight line obliquely upward; to effect
+which I removed at the upper edge of each eyebrow, at the corner next
+the temple, a portion of the skin and muscle, which, being reunited and
+healed, produced the requisite contraction, and thus drew that end of
+each brow upward. And now, having disposed of the nose and brows, I come
+to the mouth. Look at the profile of this mask."
+
+He was holding that of Yelland Mace toward Mr. Arden, and with the bowl
+of the pipe in his right hand, pointed out the lines and features on
+which he descanted, with the amber point of the stem.
+
+"Now, if you observe, the chin in this face, by reason of the marked
+prominence of the nose, has the effect of receding, but it does not. If
+you continue the perpendicular line of ze forehead, ze chin, you see,
+meets it. The upper lip, though short and well-formed, projects a good
+deal. Ze under lip rather retires, and this adds to the receding effect
+of the chin, you see. My _coup-d'oeil_ assured me that it was practicable
+to give to this feature the character of a projecting under-jaw. The
+complete depression of the nose more than half accomplished it. The rest
+is done by cutting away two upper and four under-teeth, and substituting
+false ones at the desired angle. By that application of dentistry I
+obtained zis new line." (He indicated the altered outline of the
+features, as before, with his pipe). "It was a very pretty operation.
+The effect you could hardly believe. He was two months recovering,
+confined to his bed, ha! ha! We can't have an immovable mask of living
+flesh, blood, and bone for nothing. He was threatened with erysipelas,
+and there was a rather critical inflammation of the left eye. When he
+could sit up, and bear the light, and looked in the glass, instead of
+thanking me, he screamed like a girl, and cried and cursed for an hour,
+ha, ha, ha! He was glad of it afterward: it was so complete. Look at it"
+(he held up the mask of Yelland Mace): "a face, on the whole,
+good-looking, but a little of a parrot-face, you know. I took him into
+my hands with that face, and" (taking up the mask of Mr. Longcluse, and
+turning it with a slow oscillation so as to present it in every aspect),
+he added, "these are the features of Yelland Mace as I sent him into the
+world with the name of Herr Longcluse!"
+
+"You mean to say that Yelland Mace and Walter Longcluse are the same
+person?" cried David Arden, starting to his feet.
+
+"I swear that here is Yelland Mace _before_, and here _after_ the
+operation, call him what you please. When I was in London, two months
+ago, I saw Monsieur Longcluse. _He_ is Yelland Mace; and these two masks
+are both masks of the same Yelland Mace."
+
+"Then the evidence is complete," said David Arden, with awe in his face,
+as he stood for a moment gazing on the masks which the Baron Vanboeren
+held up side by side before him.
+
+"Ay, the masks and the witness to explain them," said the baron,
+sturdily.
+
+"It is a perfect identification," murmured Mr. Arden, with his eyes
+still riveted on the plaster faces. "Good God! how wonderful that proof,
+so complete in all its parts, should remain!"
+
+"Well, I don't love Longcluse, since so he is named; he disobliged me
+when I was in London," said the baron. "Let him hang, since so you
+ordain it. I'm ready to go to London, give my evidence, and produce
+these plaster casts. But my time and trouble must be considered."
+
+"Certainly."
+
+"Yes," said the baron; "and to avoid tedious arithmetic, and for the
+sake of convenience, I will agree to visit London, at what time you
+appoint, to bring with me these two masks, and to give my evidence
+against Yelland Mace, otherwise Walter Longcluse, my stay in London not
+to exceed a fortnight, for ten thousand pounds sterling."
+
+"I don't think, Baron, you can be serious," said Mr. Arden, as soon as
+he had recovered breath.
+
+"Donner-wetter! I will show you that I am!" bawled the baron. "Now or
+never, Sir. Do as you please. I sha'n't abate a franc. Do you like my
+offer?"
+
+On the event of this bargain are depending issues of which David Arden
+knows nothing; the dangers, the agonies, the salvation of those who are
+nearest to him on earth. The villain Longcluse, and the whole fabric of
+his machinations, may be dashed in pieces by a word.
+
+How, then, did David Arden, who hated a swindle, answer the old
+extortioner, who asked him, "Do you like my offer?"
+
+"Certainly not, Sir," said David Arden, sternly.
+
+"Then _was_ scheert's mich! What do I care! No more, no more about it!"
+yelled the baron in a fury, and dashed the two masks to pieces on the
+hearth-stone at his feet, and stamped the fragments into dust with his
+clumsy shoes.
+
+With a cry, old Uncle David rushed forward to arrest the demolition, but
+too late. The baron, who was liable to such accesses of rage, was
+grinding his teeth, and rolling his eyes, and stamping in fury.
+
+The masks, those priceless records, were gone, past all hope of
+restoration. Uncle David felt for a moment so transported with anger,
+that I think he was on the point of striking him. How it would have
+fared with him, if he had, I can't tell.
+
+"Now!" howled the baron, "ten times ten thousand pounds would not place
+you where you were, Sir. You fancied, perhaps, I would stand haggling
+with you all night, and yield at last to your obstinacy. What is my
+answer? The floor strewn with the fragments of your calculation. Where
+will you turn--what will you do now?"
+
+"Suppose I do this," said Uncle David fiercely--"report to the police
+what I have seen--your masks and all the rest, and accomplish, besides,
+all I require, by my own evidence as to what I myself saw?"
+
+"And I will confront you, as a witness," said the baron, with a cold
+sneer, "and deny it all--swear it is a dream, and aid your poor
+relatives in proving you unfit to manage your own money matters."
+
+Uncle David paused for a moment. The baron had no idea how near he was,
+at that moment, to a trial of strength with his English visitor. Uncle
+David thinks better of it, and he contents himself with saying, "I shall
+have advice, and you shall _most certainly_ hear from me again."
+
+Forth from the room strides David Arden in high wrath. Fearing to lose
+his way, he bawls over the banister, and through the corridors, "Is any
+one there?" and after a time the old woman, who is awaiting him in the
+hall, replies, and he is once more in the open street.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER LXXXII.
+
+DOPPELGANGER.
+
+
+It was late, he did not know or care how late. He was by no means
+familiar with this quarter of the city. He was agitated and angry, and
+did not wish to return to his hotel till he had a little walked off his
+excitement. Slowly he sauntered along, from street to street. These were
+old-fashioned, such as were in vogue in the days of the Regency. Tall
+houses, with gables facing the street; few of them showing any light
+from their windows, and their dark outlines discernible on high against
+the midnight sky. Now he heard the voices of people near, emerging from
+a low theatre in a street at the right. A number of men come along the
+trottoir, toward Uncle David. They were going to a gaming-house and
+restaurant at the end of the street, which he had nearly reached. This
+troop of idlers he accompanies. They turn into an open door, and enter a
+passage not very brilliantly lighted. At the left was the open door of a
+restaurant. The greater number of those who enter follow the passage,
+however, which leads to the roulette-room.
+
+As Uncle David, with a caprice of curiosity, follows slowly in the wake
+of this accession to the company, a figure passes and goes before him
+into the room.
+
+With a strange thrill he takes or mistakes this figure for Mr.
+Longcluse. He pauses, and sees the tall figure enter the roulette-room.
+He follows it as soon as he recollects himself a little, and goes into
+the room. The players are, as usual, engrossed by the game. But at the
+far side beyond these busy people, he sees this person, whom he
+recognises by a light great-coat, stooping with his lips pretty near the
+ear of a man who was sitting at the table. He raises himself in a moment
+more, and stands before Uncle David, and at the first glance he is quite
+certain that Mr. Longcluse is before him. The tall man stands with
+folded arms, and looks carelessly round the room, and at Uncle David
+among the rest.
+
+"Here," he thought, "is the man; and the evidence, clear and conclusive,
+and so near this very spot, now scattered in dust and fragments, and the
+witness who might have clenched the case impracticable!"
+
+This tall man, however, he begins to perceive, has points, and strong
+ones, of dissimilarity, notwithstanding his general resemblance to Mr.
+Longcluse. His beard and hair are red; his shoulders are broader, and
+very round; much clumsier and more powerful he looks; and there is an
+air of vulgarity and swagger and boisterous good spirits about him,
+certainly in marked contrast with Mr. Longcluse's very quiet demeanour.
+
+Uncle David now finds himself in that uncomfortable state of oscillation
+between two opposite convictions which, in a matter of supreme
+importance, amounts very nearly to torture.
+
+This man does not appear at all put out by Mr. Arden's observant
+presence, nor even conscious of it. A place becomes vacant at the table,
+and he takes it, and stakes some money, and goes on, and wins and loses,
+and at last yawns and turns away, and walks slowly round to the door
+near which David Arden is standing. Is not this the very man whom he saw
+for a moment on board the steamer, as he crossed? As he passes a jet of
+gas, the light falls upon his face at an angle that brings out lines
+that seem familiar to the Englishman, and for the moment determines his
+doubts. David Arden, with his eyes fixed upon him, says, as he was about
+to pass him,--
+
+"How d'ye do, Mr. Longcluse?"
+
+The gentleman stops, smiles, and shrugs.
+
+"Pardon, Monsieur," he says in French, "I do not speak English or
+German."
+
+The quality of the voice that spoke these words was, he thought,
+different from Mr. Longcluse's--less tone, less depth, and more nasal.
+
+The gentleman pauses and smiles with his head inclined, evidently
+expecting to be addressed in French.
+
+"I believe I have made a mistake, Sir," hesitates Mr. Arden.
+
+The gentleman inclines his head lower, smiles, and waits patiently for a
+second or two. Mr. Arden, a little embarrassed, says,--
+
+"I thought, Monsieur, I had met you before in England."
+
+"I have never been in England, Monsieur," says the patient and polite
+Frenchman, in his own language. "I cannot have had the honour,
+therefore, of meeting Monsieur _there_."
+
+He pauses politely.
+
+"Then I have only to make an apology. I beg your--I beg--but surely--I
+think--by Jove!" he breaks into English, "I can't be mistaken--you _are_
+Mr. Longcluse."
+
+The tall gentleman looks so unaffectedly puzzled, and so politely
+good-natured, as he resumes, in the tones which seem perfectly natural,
+and yet one note in which David Arden fails to recognise, and says,--
+
+"Monsieur must not trouble himself of having made a mistake: my name is
+St. Ange."
+
+"I believe I _have_ made a mistake, Monsieur--pray excuse me."
+
+The gentleman bows very ceremoniously, and Monsieur St. Ange walks
+slowly out, and takes a glass of curacoa in the outer room. As he is
+paying the _garcon_, Mr. Arden again appears, once more in a state of
+uncertainty, and again leaning to the belief that this person is indeed
+the Mr. Longcluse who at present entirely possesses his imagination.
+
+The tall stranger with the round shoulders in truth resembled the person
+who, in a midnight interview on Hampstead Heath, had discussed some
+momentous questions with Paul Davies, as we remember; but that person
+spoke in the peculiar accent of the northern border. _His_ beard, too,
+was exorbitant in length, and flickered wide and red, in the wind. This
+beard, on the contrary, was short and trim, and hardly so red, I think,
+as that moss-trooper's. On the whole, the likeness in both cases was
+somewhat rude and general. Still the resemblance to Longcluse again
+struck Mr. Arden so powerfully, that he actually followed him into the
+street and overtook him only a dozen steps away from the door, on the
+now silent pavement.
+
+Hearing his hurried step behind him, the object of his pursuit turns
+about and confronts him for the first time with an offended and haughty
+look.
+
+"Monsieur!" says he a little grimly, drawing himself up as he comes to a
+sudden halt.
+
+"The impression has forced itself upon me again that you _are_ no other
+than Mr. Walter Longcluse," says Uncle David.
+
+The tall gentleman recovered his good-humour, and smiled as before, with
+a shrug.
+
+"I have not the honour of that gentleman's acquaintance, Monsieur, and
+cannot tell, therefore, whether he in the least resembles me. But as
+this kind of thing is unusual, and grows wearisome, and may end in
+putting me out of temper--which is not easy, although quite
+possible--and as my assurance that I am really myself seems insufficient
+to convince Monsieur, I shall be happy to offer other evidence of the
+most unexceptionable kind. My house is only two streets distant. There
+my wife and daughter await me, and our cure partakes of our little
+supper at twelve. I am a little late," says he, listening, for the
+clocks are tolling twelve; "however, it is a little more than two
+hundred metres, if you will accept my invitation, and I shall be very
+happy to introduce you to my wife, to my daughter Clotilde, and to our
+good cure, who is a most agreeable man. Pray come, share our little
+supper, see what sort of people we are, and in this way--more agreeable,
+I hope, than any other, and certainly less fallacious--you can ascertain
+whether I am Monsieur St. Ange, or that other gentleman with whom you
+are so obliging as to confound me. Pray come; it is not much--a
+fricasee, a few cutlets, an omelette, and a glass of wine. Madame St.
+Ange will be charmed to make your acquaintance, my daughter will sing us
+a song, and you will say that Monsieur le Cure is really a most
+entertaining companion."
+
+There was something so simple and thoroughly good-natured in this
+invitation, under all the circumstances, that Mr. Arden felt a little
+ashamed of his persistent annoyance of so hospitable a fellow, and for
+the moment he was convinced that he must have been in error.
+
+"Sir," says David Arden, "I am now convinced that I must have been
+mistaken; but I cannot deny myself the honour of being presented to
+Madame St. Ange, and I assure you I am quite ashamed of the annoyance I
+must have caused you, and I offer a thousand apologies."
+
+"Not one, pray," replies the Frenchman, with great good-humour and
+gaiety. "I felicitate myself on a mistake which promises to result so
+happily."
+
+So side by side, at a leisurely pace, they pursued their way through
+these silent streets, and unaccountably the conviction again gradually
+stole over Uncle David that he was actually walking by the side of Mr.
+Longcluse.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER LXXXIII.
+
+A SHORT PARTING.
+
+
+The fluctuations of Mr. Arden's conviction continued. His new
+acquaintance chatted gaily. They passed a transverse street, and he saw
+him glance quickly right and left, with a shrewd eye that did not quite
+accord with his careless demeanour.
+
+Here for a moment the moon fell full upon them, and the effect of this
+new light was, once more, to impair Mr. Arden's confidence in his last
+conclusions about this person. Again he was at sea as to his identity.
+
+There were the gabble and vociferation of two women quarrelling in the
+street to the left, and three tipsy fellows, marching home, were singing
+a trio some way up the street to the right.
+
+They had encountered but one figure--a seedy scrivener, slipshod,
+shuffling his way to his garret, with a baize bag of law-papers to copy
+in his left hand, and a sheaf of quills in his right, and a pale,
+careworn face turned up towards the sky. The streets were growing more
+silent and deserted as they proceeded.
+
+He was sauntering onward by the side of this urbane and garrulous
+stranger, when, like a whisper, the thought came, "Take care!"
+
+David Arden stopped short.
+
+"Eh, bien?" said his polite companion, stopping simultaneously, and
+staring in his face a little grimly.
+
+"On reflection, Monsieur, it is so late, that I fear I should hardly
+reach my hotel in time if I were to accept your agreeable invitation,
+and letters probably await me, which I should, at least, _read_
+to-night."
+
+"Surely Monsieur will not disappoint me--surely Monsieur is not going to
+treat me so oddly?" expostulated Monsieur St. Ange.
+
+"Good-night, Sir. Farewell!" said David Arden, raising his hat as he
+turned to go.
+
+There intervened not two yards between them, and the polite Monsieur St.
+Ange makes a stride after him, and extends his hand--whether there is a
+weapon in it, I know not; but he exclaims fiercely,--
+
+"Ha! robber! my purse!"
+
+Fortunately, perhaps, at that moment, from a lane only a few yards away,
+emerge two gendarmes, and Monsieur St. Ange exclaims, "Ah, Monsieur,
+mille pardons! Here it is! All safe, Monsieur. Pray excuse my mistake as
+frankly as I have excused yours. Adieu!"
+
+Monsieur St. Ange raises his hat, shrugs, smiles, and withdrew.
+
+Uncle David thought, on the whole, he was well rid of his ambiguous
+acquaintance, and strode along beside the gendarmes, who civilly
+directed him upon his way, which he had lost.
+
+So, then, upon Mr. Longcluse's fortunes the sun shone; his star, it
+would seem, was in the ascendant. If the evil genius who ruled his
+destiny was contending, in a chess game, with the good angel of Alice
+Arden, her game seemed pretty well lost, and the last move near.
+
+When David Arden reached his hotel a note awaited him, in the hand of
+the Baron Vanboeren. He read it under the gas in the hall. It said:--
+
+    "We must, in this world, forgive and reconsider many things. I
+    therefore pardon you, you me. So soon as you have slept upon our
+    conversation, you will accept an offer which I cannot modify. I
+    always proportion the burden to the back. The rich pay me
+    handsomely; for the poor I have prescribed and operated, sometimes,
+    for nothing! You have the good fortune, like myself, to be
+    childless, wifeless, and rich. When I take a fancy to a thing,
+    nothing stops me; you, no doubt, in like manner. The trouble is
+    something to me; the danger, which you count nothing, to me is
+    _much_. The compensation I name, estimated without the circumstances,
+    is large; compared with my wealth, trifling; compared with
+    your wealth, nothing; as the condition of a transaction between
+    you and me, therefore, not worth mentioning. The accident of last
+    night I can repair. The original matrix of each mask remains safe in
+    my hands: from this I can multiply casts _ad libitum_. Both these
+    matrices I will hammer into powder at twelve o'clock to-morrow
+    night, unless my liberal offer shall have been accepted before that
+    hour. I write to a man of honour. We understand each other.
+
+    "EMMANUEL VANBOEREN."
+
+The ruin, then, was not irretrievable; and there was time to take
+advice, and think it over. In the baron's brutal letter there was a
+coarse logic, not without its weight.
+
+In better spirits David Arden betook himself to bed. It vexed him to
+think of submitting to the avarice of that wicked old extortioner; but
+to that submission, reluctant as he is, it seems probable he will come.
+
+And now his thoughts turn upon the hospitable Monsieur St. Ange, and he
+begins, I must admit not altogether without reason, to reflect what a
+fool he has been. He wonders whether that hospitable and polite
+gentleman had intended to murder him, at the moment when the gendarmes
+so luckily appeared. And in the midst of his speculations, overpowered
+by fatigue, he fell asleep, and ate his breakfast next morning very
+happily.
+
+Uncle David had none of that small diplomatic genius that helps to make
+a good attorney. That sort of knowledge of human nature would have
+prompted a careless reception of the baron's note, and an entire absence
+of that promptitude which seems to imply an anxiety to seize an offer.
+
+Accordingly, it was at about eleven o'clock in the morning that he
+presented himself at the house of the Baron Vanboeren.
+
+He was not destined to conclude a reconciliation with that German noble,
+nor to listen to his abrupt loquacity, nor ever more to discuss or
+negotiate anything whatsoever with him, for the Baron Vanboeren had been
+found that morning close to his hall door on the floor, shot with no
+less than three bullets through his body, and his pipe in both hands
+clenched to his blood-soaked breast like a crucifix. The baron is not
+actually dead. He has been hours insensible. He cannot live; and the
+doctor says that neither speech nor recollection can return before he
+dies.
+
+By whose hands, for what cause, in what manner the world had lost that
+excellent man, no one could say. A great variety of theories prevail on
+the subject. He had sent the old servant for Pierre la Roche, whom he
+employed as a messenger, and he had given him at about a quarter to
+eleven a note addressed to David Arden, Esquire, which was no doubt that
+which Mr. Arden had received.
+
+Had Heaven decreed that this investigation should come to naught? This
+blow seemed irremediable.
+
+David Arden, however, had, as I mentioned, official friends, and it
+struck him that he might through them obtain access to the rooms in
+which his interviews with the baron had taken place; and that an
+ingenious and patient artist in plaster might be found who would search
+out the matrices, or, at worst, piece the fragments of the mask
+together, and so, in part, perhaps, restore the demolished evidence. It
+turned out, however, that the destruction of these relics was too
+complete for any such experiments; and all that now remained was, upon
+the baron's letter of the evening before, to move in official quarters
+for a search for those "matrices" from which it was alleged the masks
+were taken.
+
+This subject so engrossed his mind, that it was not until after his late
+dinner that he began once more to think of Monsieur St. Ange, and his
+resemblance to Mr. Longcluse; and a new suspicion began to envelope
+those gentlemen in his imagination. A thought struck him, and up got
+Uncle David, leaving his wine unfinished, and a few minutes more saw him
+in the telegraph office, writing the following message:--
+
+    "From Monsieur David Arden, etc., to Monsieur Blount, 5 Manchester
+    Buildings, Westminster, London.
+
+    "Pray telegraph immediately to say whether Mr. Longcluse is at his
+    house, Bolton Street, Piccadilly."
+
+No answer reached him that night; but in the morning he found a telegram
+dated 11.30 of the previous night, which said--
+
+    "Mr. Longcluse is ill at his house at Richmond--better to-day."
+
+To this promptly he replied--
+
+    "See him, if possible, immediately at Richmond, and say how he
+    looks. The surrender of the lease in Crown Alley will be an excuse.
+    See him if there. Ascertain with certainty where. Telegraph
+    immediately."
+
+No answer had reached Uncle David at three o'clock P.M.; he had
+despatched his message at nine. He was impatient, and walked to the
+telegraph office to make inquiries, and to grumble. He sent another
+message in querulous and peremptory laconics. But no answer came till
+near twelve o'clock, when the following was delivered to him:--
+
+    "Yours came while out. Received at 6 P.M. Saw Longcluse at Richmond.
+    Looks seedy. Says he is all right now."
+
+He read this twice or thrice, and lowered the hand whose fingers held it
+by the corner, and looked up, taking a turn or two about the room; and
+he thought what a precious fool he must have appeared to Monsieur St.
+Ange, and then again, with another view of that gentleman's character,
+what an escape he had possibly had.
+
+So there was no distraction any longer; and he directed his mind now
+exclusively upon the distinct object of securing possession of the
+moulds from which the masks were taken; and for many reasons it is not
+likely that very much will come of his search.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER LXXXIV.
+
+AT MORTLAKE.
+
+
+Events do not stand still at Mortlake. It is now about four o'clock on a
+fine autumnal afternoon. Since we last saw her, Alice Arden has not once
+sought to pass the hall-door. It would not have been possible to do so.
+No one passed that barrier without a scrutiny, and the aid of the key of
+the man who kept guard at the door, as closely as ever did the office at
+the hatch of the debtor's prison. The suite of five rooms up-stairs, to
+which Alice is now strictly confined, is not only comfortable, but
+luxurious. It had been fitted up for his own use by Sir Reginald years
+before he exchanged it for those rooms down-stairs which, as he grew
+older, he preferred.
+
+Levi every day visited the house, and took a report of all that was said
+and planned up-stairs, in a _tete-a-tete_ with Phoebe Chiffinch, in the
+great parlour among the portraits. The girl was true to her young and
+helpless mistress, and was in her confidence, outwitting the rascally
+Jew, who every time, by Longcluse's order, bribed her handsomely for the
+information that was misleading him.
+
+From Phoebe the young lady concealed no pang of her agony. Well was it
+for her that in their craft they had exchanged the comparatively useless
+Miss Diaper for this poor girl, on whose apprenticeship to strange ways,
+and a not very fastidious life, they relied for a clever and
+unscrupulous instrument. Perhaps she had more than the cunning they
+reckoned upon. "But I 'av' took a liking to ye, Miss, and they'll not
+make nothing of Phoebe Chiffinch."
+
+Alice was alone in her room, and Phoebe Chiffinch came running up the
+great staircase singing, and through the intervening suite of rooms,
+entered that in which her young mistress awaited her return. Her song
+falters, and dies into a strange ejaculation, as she passes the door.
+
+"The Lord be thanked, that's over and done!" she exclaims, with a face
+pale from excitement.
+
+"Sit down, Phoebe; you are trembling; you must drink a little water. Are
+you well?"
+
+"La! quite well, Miss," said Phoebe, more cheerily, and then burst into
+tears. She gulped down some of the water which the frightened young lady
+held to her lips, and recovering quickly, she gets on her feet, and says
+impatiently--"I'm sure, Miss, I don't know what makes me such a fool;
+but I'm all right now, Ma'am; and you asked me, the other day, about the
+big key of the old back-door lock that I showed you, and I said, though
+it could not open no door, I would find a use for it, yet. So I 'av',
+Miss."
+
+"Go on; I recollect perfectly."
+
+"You remember the bit of parchment I asked you to write the words on
+yesterday evening, Miss? They was these: 'Passage on the left, from main
+passage to housekeeper's room,' etc. Well, I was with Mr. Vargers when
+he locked that passage up, and it leads to a door in the side of the
+'ouse, which it opens into the grounds; and in that houter door he left
+a key, and only took with him the key of the door at the other end,
+which it opens from the 'ousekeeper's passage. So all seemed sure--sure
+it is, so long as you can't get into that side passage, which it is
+locked."
+
+"I understand; go on, Phoebe."
+
+"Well, Miss, the reason I vallied that key I showed you so much, was
+because it's as like the key of the side passage as one egg is to
+another, only it won't turn in the lock. So, as that key I must 'av', I
+tacked the bit of parchment you wrote to the 'andle of the other, which
+the two matches exactly, and I didn't tell you, Miss, thinking what a
+taking you'd be in, but I went down to try if I could not take it for
+the right one."
+
+"It was kind of you not to tell me; go on," said the young lady.
+
+"Well, Miss, I 'ad the key in my pocket, ready to change; and I knew
+well how 'twould be, if I was found out--I'd get the sack, or be locked
+up 'ere myself, more likely, and no more chances for you. Mr. Vargers
+was in the room--the porter's room they calls it now--and in I goes. I
+did not see no one there, but Vargers and he was lookin' sly, I thought,
+and him and Mr. Boult has been talking me over, I fancy, and they don't
+quite trust me. So I began to talk, wheedling him the best I could to
+let me go into town for an hour; 'twas only for talk, for well I knew I
+shouldn't get to go; but nothing but chaff did he answer. And then, says
+I, is Mr. Levice come yet, and he said, he is, but he has a second key
+of the back door and he may 'av' let himself hout. Well, I says,
+thinking to make Vargers jealous, he's a werry pleasant gentleman, a bit
+too pleasant for me, and I'm a-going to the kitchen, and I'd rayther he
+wastnt there, smoking as he often does, and talking nonsense, when I'm
+in it. There's others that's nicer, to my fancy, than him--so, jest you
+go and see, and I'll take care of heverything 'ere till you come
+back--and don't you be a minute. There was the keys, lying along the
+chimney-piece, at my left, and the big table in front, and nothing to
+hinder me from changing mine for his, but Vargers' eye over me. Little I
+thought he'd 'av' bin so ready to do as I said. But he smiled to
+himself-like, and he said he'd go and see. So away he went; and I
+listens at the door till I heard his foot go on the tiles of the passage
+that goes down by the 'ousekeeper's room, and the billiard-room, to the
+kitchen; and then on tip-toe, as quick as light, I goes to the
+chimney-piece, and without a sound, I takes the very key I wanted in my
+fingers, and drops it into my pocket, but putting down the other in its
+place, I knocked down the big leaden hink-bottle, and didn't it make a
+bang on the floor--and a terrible hoarse voice roars out from the tother
+side of the table--'What the devil are you doing there, huzzy?' Saving
+your presence, Miss; and up gets Mr. Boult, only half awake, looking as
+mad as Bedlam, and I thought I would have fainted away! Who'd 'av'
+fancied he was in the room? He had his 'ead on the table, and the cloak
+over it, and I think, when they 'eard me a-coming downstairs, they
+agreed he should 'ide hisself so, to catch me, while Vargers would leave
+the room, to try if I would meddle with the keys, or the like--and while
+Mr. Boult was foxing, he fell asleep in right earnest. Warn't it a joke,
+Miss? So I brazent it hout, Miss, the best I could, and I threatened to
+complain to Mr. Levi, and said I'd stay no longer, to be talked to, that
+way, by sich as he. And Boult could not tell Vargers he was asleep, and
+so I saw him count over the keys, and up I ran, singing."
+
+By this time the girl was on her knees, concealing the key between the
+beds, with the others.
+
+"Thank God, Phoebe, you have got it! But, oh! all that is before us
+still!"
+
+"Yes, there's work enough, Miss. I'll not be so frightened no more. Tom
+Chiffinch, that beat the Finchley pet, after ninety good rounds, was my
+brother, and I won't show nothing but pluck, Miss, from this out--you'll
+see."
+
+Alice had proposed writing to summon her friends to her aid. But Phoebe
+protested against that extremely perilous measure. Her friends were away
+from London; who could say where? And she believed that the attempt to
+post the letters would miscarry, and that they were certain to fall into
+the hands of their jailors. She insisted that Alice should rely on the
+simple plan of escape from Mortlake.
+
+Martha Tansey, it is true, was anxious. She wondered how it was that she
+had not once heard from her young mistress since her journey to
+Yorkshire. And a passage in a letter which had reached her, from the old
+servant, at David Arden's town house, who had been mystified by Sir
+Richard, perplexed and alarmed her further, by inquiring how Miss Alice
+looked, and whether she had been knocked up by the journey to Arden on
+Wednesday.
+
+So matters stood.
+
+Each evening Mr. Levi was in attendance, and this day, according to
+rule, she went down to the grand old dining-room.
+
+"How'sh Miss Chiffinch?" said the little Jew, advancing to meet her;
+"how'sh her grashe the duchess, in the top o' the houshe? Ish my Lady
+Mount-garret ash proud ash ever?"
+
+"Well, I do think, Mr. Levice, there's a great change; she's bin growing
+better the last two days, and she's got a letter last night that's
+seemed to please her."
+
+"Wha'at letter?"
+
+"The letter you gave me last night for her."
+
+"O-oh! Ah! I wonder--eh? Do you happen to know what wa'azh in that ere
+letter?" he asked, in an insinuating whisper.
+
+"Not I, Mr. Levice. She don't trust me not as far as you'd throw a bull
+by the tail. You might 'av' managed that better. You must 'a frightened
+her some way about me. I try to be agreeable all I can, but she won't
+a-look at me."
+
+"Well, I don't want to know, _I'm_ sure. Did she talk of going out of
+doors since?"
+
+"No; there's a frost in the hair still, and she says till that's gone
+she won't stir out."
+
+"That frost will last a bit, I guess. Any more newshe?"
+
+"Nothing."
+
+"Wait a minute 'ere," said Mr. Levi, and he went into the room beyond
+this, where she knew there were writing materials.
+
+She waited some time, and at length took the liberty of sitting down.
+She was kept a good while longer. The sun went down; the drowsy crimson
+that heralds night overspread the sky. She coughed; several fits of
+coughing she tried at short intervals. Had Mr. Levice, as she called
+him, forgotten her? He came out at length in the twilight.
+
+"Shtay you 'ere a few minutes more," said that gentleman, as he walked
+thoughtfully through the room and paused. "You wazh asking yesterday
+where izh Sir Richard Arden. Well, hezh took hishelf off to Harden in
+Yorkshire, and he'll not be 'ome again for a week."
+
+Having delivered this piece of intelligence, he nodded, and slowly went
+to the hall, and closed the door carefully as he left the room. She
+followed to the door and listened. There was plainly a little fuss going
+on in the hall. She heard feet in motion, and low talking. She was
+curious and would have peeped, but the door was secured on the outside.
+The twilight had deepened, and for the first time she saw that a ray of
+candle-light came through the key-hole from the inner room. She opened
+the door softly, and saw a gentleman writing at the table. He was quite
+alone. He turned, and rose: a tall, slight gentleman, with a singular
+countenance that startled her.
+
+"You are Phoebe Chiffinch," said a deep, clear voice, sternly, as the
+gentleman pointed towards her with the plume end of the pen he held in
+his fingers. "I am Mr. Longcluse. It is I who have sent you two pounds
+each day by Levi. I hear you have got it all right."
+
+The girl curtseyed, and said "Yes, Sir," at the second effort, for she
+was startled. He had taken out and opened his pocket-book.
+
+"Here are _ten_ pounds," and he handed her a rustling new note by the
+corner. "I'll treat you liberally, but you must speak truth, and do
+exactly as you are ordered by Levi." She curtseyed again. There was
+something in that gentleman that frightened her awfully.
+
+"If you do so, I mean to give you a hundred pounds when this business is
+over. I have paid you as my servant, and if you deceive me I'll punish
+you; and there are two or three little things they complain of at the
+'Guy of Warwick,' and" (he swore a hard oath) "you shall hear of them if
+you do."
+
+She curtseyed, and felt, not angry, as she would if any one else had
+said it, but frightened, for Mr. Longcluse's was a name of power at
+Mortlake.
+
+"You gave Miss Arden a letter last night. You know what was in it?"
+
+"Yes, Sir."
+
+"What was it?"
+
+"An offer of marriage from you, Sir."
+
+"Yes: how do you know that?"
+
+"She told me, please, Sir."
+
+"How did she take it? Come, don't be afraid."
+
+"I'd say it pleased her well, Sir."
+
+He looked at her in much surprise, and was silent for a time.
+
+He repeated his question, and receiving a similar answer, reflected on
+it.
+
+"Yes; it _is_ the best way out of her troubles; she begins to see that,"
+he said, with a strange smile.
+
+He walked to the chimney-piece, and leaned on it; and forgot the
+presence of Phoebe. She was too much in awe to make any sign. Turning he
+saw her, suddenly.
+
+"You will receive some directions from Mr. Levi; take care you
+understand and execute them."
+
+He touched the bell, and Levi opened the door; and she and that person
+walked together to the foot of the stair, where in a low tone they
+talked.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER LXXXV.
+
+THE CRISIS.
+
+
+When Phoebe Chiffinch returned to Alice's room, it was about ten o'clock;
+a brilliant moon was shining on the old trees, and throwing their
+shadows on the misty grass. The landscape from these upper windows was
+sad and beautiful, and above the distant trees that were softened by the
+haze of night rose the silvery spire of the old church, in whose vault
+her father sleeps with a cold brain, thinking no more of mortgages and
+writs.
+
+Alice had been wondering what had detained her so long, and by the time
+she arrived had become very much alarmed.
+
+Relieved when she entered, she was again struck with fear when Phoebe
+Chiffinch had come near enough to enable her to see her face. She was
+pale, and with her eyes fixed on her, raised her finger in warning, and
+then glanced at the door which she had just closed.
+
+Her young mistress got up and approached her, also growing pale, for she
+perceived that danger was at the door.
+
+"I wish there was bolts to these doors. They've got other keys. Never
+mind; I know it all now," she whispered, as she walked softly up to the
+end of the room farthest from the door. "I said I'd stand by you, my
+lady; don't you lose heart. They're coming here in about a hour."
+
+"For God's sake, what is it?" said Alice faintly, her eyes gazing wider
+and wider, and her very lips growing white.
+
+"There's work before us, my lady, and there must be no fooling," said
+the girl, a little sternly. "Mr. Levi, please, has told me a deal, and
+all they expect from me, the villains. Are you strong enough to take
+your part in it, Miss? If not, best be quiet; best for both."
+
+"Yes; quite strong, Phoebe. Are we to leave this?"
+
+"I hope, Miss. We can but try."
+
+"There's light, Phoebe," she said, glancing with a shiver from the
+window. "It's a bright night."
+
+"I wish 'twas darker; but mind you what I say. Longcluse is to be here
+in a hour. Your brother's coming, God help you! and that little limb o'
+Satan, that black-eyed, black-nailed, dirty little Jew, Levice! They're
+not in town, they're out together near this, where a man is to meet them
+with writings. There's a licence got, Christie Vargers saw Mr. Longcluse
+showing it to your brother, Sir Richard; and I daren't tell Vargers that
+I'm for you. He'd never do nothing to vex Mr. Levice, he daren't.
+There's a parson here, a rum 'un, you may be sure. I think I know
+something about him; Vargers does. He's in the room now, only one away
+from this, next the stair head, and Vargers is put to keep the door in
+the same room. All the doors along, from one room to t'other, is open,
+from this to the stairs, except the last, which Vargers has the key of
+it; and all the doors opening from the rooms to the gallery is locked,
+so you can't get out o' this 'ere without passing through the one where
+parson is, and Mr. Vargers, please."
+
+"I'll speak to the clergyman," whispered Alice, extending her hands
+towards the far door; "God be thanked, there's one good man here, and
+he'll save me!"
+
+"La, bless you child! why that parson had his two pen'orth long ago, and
+spends half his nights in the lock-up."
+
+"I don't understand, Phoebe."
+
+"He had two years. He's bin in jail, Miss, Vargers says, as often as he
+has fingers and toes; and he's at his brandy and water as I came
+through, with his feet on the fender, and his pipe in his mouth. He's
+here to marry you, please 'm, to Mr. Longcluse, and _there's_ all the
+good _he'll_ do you; and your brother will give you away, Miss, and
+Levice and Vargers for witnesses, and me I dessay. It's every bit
+harranged, and they don't care the rinsing of a tumbler what you say or
+do; for through with it, slicks, they'll go, and say 'twas all right, in
+spite of all you can do; and who is there to make a row about it? Not
+you, after all's done."
+
+"We must get away! I'll lose my life, or I'll escape!"
+
+Phoebe looked at her in silence. I think she was measuring her strength,
+and her nerve, for the undertaking.
+
+"Well, 'm, it's time it was begun. The time is come. Here's your cloak,
+Miss, I'll tie a handkerchief over my head, if we get out; and here's
+the three keys, betwixt the bed and the mattress."
+
+After a moment's search on her knees, she produced them.
+
+"The big one and this I'll keep, and you'll manage this other, please;
+take it in your right hand--you must use it first. It opens the far door
+of the room where Vargers is, and if you get through, you'll be at the
+stair-head then. Don't you come in after me, till you see I have Vargers
+engaged another way. Go through as light as a bird flies, and take the
+key out of the door, at the other end, when you unlock it; and close it
+softly, else he'll see it, and have the house about our ears; and you
+know the big window at the drawing-room lobby; wait in the hollow of
+that window till I come. Do you understand, please, Miss?"
+
+Alice did perfectly.
+
+"Hish-sh!" said the maid, with a prolonged caution.
+
+A dead silence followed; for a minute--several minutes neither seemed to
+breathe.
+
+Phoebe whispered at length--
+
+"_Now_, Miss, are you ready?"
+
+"Yes," she whispered, and her heart beat for a moment as if it would
+suffocate her, and then was still; an icy chill stole over her, and as
+on tip-toe she followed Phoebe, she felt as if she glided without weight
+or contact, like a spirit.
+
+Through a dark room they passed, very softly, first, a little light
+under the door showed that there were candles in the next. They halted
+and listened. Phoebe opened the door and entered.
+
+Standing back in the shadow, Alice saw the room and the people in it,
+distinctly. The parson was not the sort of contraband clergyman she had
+fancied, by any means, but a thin hectic man of some four-and-thirty
+years, only looking a little dazed by brandy and water, and far gone in
+consumption. Handsome thin features, and a suit of seedy black, and a
+white choker, indicated that lost gentleman, who was crying silently as
+he smoked his pipe, I daresay a little bit tipsy, gazing into the fire,
+with his fatal brandy and water at his elbow.
+
+"Eh! Mr. Vargers, smoking after _all_ I said to you!" murmured Miss
+Phoebe severely, advancing toward her round-shouldered sweetheart, with
+her finger raised.
+
+Mr. Vargers replied pleasantly; and as this tender "chaff" flew lightly
+between the interlocutors, the parson looked still into the fire,
+hearing nothing of their play and banter, but sunk deep in the hell of
+his sorrowful memory.
+
+As Phoebe talked on, Vargers grew agreeable and tender, and in about
+three minutes after her own entrance, she saw with a thrill,
+imperfectly, just with the "corner of her eye," something pass behind
+them swiftly toward the outer door. The crisis, then, had come. For a
+moment there seemed a sudden light before her eyes, and then a dark
+mist; in another she recovered herself.
+
+Vargers stood up suddenly.
+
+"Hullo! what's gone with the door there?" said he, sternly ending their
+banter.
+
+If he had been looking on her with an eye of suspicion, he might have
+seen her colour change. But Phoebe was quick-witted and prompt, and
+saying, in hushed tones--
+
+"Well, dear, ain't I a fool, leaving the lady's door open? Look ye, now,
+Mr. Vargers, she's lying fast asleep on her bed; and that's the reason I
+took courage to come here and ask a favour. But I'd rayther you'd lock
+her door, for if she waked and missed me she'd be out here, and all the
+fat in the fire."
+
+"I dessay you're right, Miss," said he, with a more business-like
+gallantry; and as he shut the door and fumbled in his pocket for the
+key, she stole a look over her shoulder.
+
+The prisoner had got through, and the door at the other end was closed.
+
+With a secret shudder, she thanked God in her heart, while with a laugh
+she slapped Mr. Vargers' lusty shoulder, and said wheedlingly, "And now
+for the favour, Mr. Vargers: you must let me down to the kitchen for
+five minutes."
+
+A little more banter and sparring followed, which ended in Vargers
+kissing her, in spite of the usual squall and protest; and on his
+essaying to let her out, and finding the door unlocked, he swore that it
+was well she asked, as he'd 'av' got it hot and heavy for forgetting to
+lock it, when the "swells" came up. The door closed upon her: so far the
+enterprise was successful.
+
+She stood at the head of the stairs; she went down a few steps, and
+listened; then cautiously she descended. The moon shone resplendent
+through the great window at the landing below the drawing-room. It was
+that at which Uncle David had paused to listen to the minstrelsy of Mr.
+Longcluse.
+
+Here in that flood of white light stands Alice Arden, like a statue of
+horror. The girl, without saying a word, takes her by the cold hand, and
+leads her quickly down to the arch that opens on the hall.
+
+Just as they reached this point, the door of the room, at the right of
+the hall door, occupied by Mr. Boult, who did duty as porter, opens, and
+stepping out with a candle in his hand, he calls in a savage tone--
+
+"What's the row?"
+
+Phoebe pushed Alice's hand in the direction of the passage that leads to
+the housekeeper's room. For a moment the young lady stands irresolute.
+Her presence of mind returns. She noiselessly takes the hint, and enters
+the corridor; Phoebe advances to answer his challenge.
+
+"Well, Mr. Boult, and what _is_ the row, pray?" she pertly inquires,
+walking up to that gentleman, who eyes her sulkily, raising his candle,
+and displaying as he does so a big patch of red on each cheek-bone,
+indicative of the brandy, of which he smells potently.
+
+"What's the row?--_you're_ the row! What brings you down here, Miss
+Chivvige?"
+
+"My legs! There's your answer, you cross boy." She laughed wheedlingly.
+
+"Then walk you up again, and be d--d."
+
+"On! Mr. Boult."
+
+"P! Miss Phibbie."
+
+Mr. Boult was speaking thick, and plainly was in no mood to stand
+nonsense.
+
+"Now Mr. Boult, where's the good of making yourself disagreeable?"
+
+"Look at this 'ere," he replied, grimly holding a mighty watch, of some
+white metal, under her eyes--"you know your clock as well as me, Miss
+Chavvinge. The gentlemen will be in this 'ere awl in twenty minutes."
+
+"All the more need to be quick, Mr. Boult, Sir, and why will you keep me
+'ere talking?" she replies.
+
+"You'll go up them 'ere stairs, young 'oman; you'll not put a foot in
+the kitchen to-night," he says more doggedly.
+
+"Well, we'll see how it will be when they comes and I tells
+'em--'Please, gentlemen, the young lady, which you told me most
+particular to humour her in everything she might call for, wished a cup
+of tea, which I went down, having locked her door first, which here is
+the key of it,'" and she held it up for the admiration of Mr. Boult,
+"'which I consider it the most importantest key in the 'ouse; and though
+the young lady, she lay on her bed a-gasping, poor thing, for her cup of
+tea, Mr. Boult stopt me in the awl, and swore she shouldn't have a drop,
+which I could not get it, and went hup again, for he smelt all over of
+brandy, and spoke so wiolent, I daren't do as you desired.'"
+
+"I don't smell of brandy; no, I don't; do I?" he says, appealing to an
+imaginary audience. "And I don't want to stop you, if so be the case is
+so. But you'll come to this door and report yourself in five minute's
+time, or I'll tell 'em there's no good keepin' me 'ere no longer. I
+don't want no quarrellin' nor disputin', only I'll do my dooty, and I'm
+not afraid of man, woman, or child!"
+
+With which magnanimous sentiment he turned on his clumsy heel, and
+entered his apartment again.
+
+In a moment more Phoebe and Alice were at the door which admits to a
+passage leading literally to the side of the house. This door Phoebe
+softly unlocks, and when they had entered, locks again on the inside.
+They stood now on the passage leading to a side door, to which a few
+paces brought them. She opens it. The cold night air enters, and they
+step out upon the grass. She locks the door behind them, and throws the
+key among the nettles that grew in a thick grove at her right.
+
+"Hold my hand, my lady; it's near done now," she whispers almost
+fiercely; and having listened for a few seconds, and looked up to see if
+any light appeared in the windows, she ventures, with a beating heart,
+from under the deep shadow of the gables, into the bright broad
+moonlight, and with light steps together they speed across the grass,
+and reach the cover of a long grove of tall trees and underwood. All is
+silent here.
+
+Soon a distant shouting brings them to a terrible stand-still.
+Breathlessly Phoebe listens. No; it was not from the house. They resume
+their flight.
+
+Now under the ivy-laden branches of a tall old tree an owl startles them
+with its shriek.
+
+As Alice stares around her, when they stop in such momentary alarm, how
+strange the scene looks! How immense and gloomy the trees about them!
+How black their limbs stretch across the moon-lit sky! How chill and
+wild the moonlight spreads over the undulating sward! What a spectral
+and exaggerated shape all things take in her scared and over-excited
+gaze!
+
+Now they are approaching the long row of noble beeches that line the
+boundary of Mortlake. The ivy-bowered wall is near them, and the screen
+of gigantic hollies that guard the lonely postern through which Phoebe
+has shrewdly chosen to direct their escape.
+
+Thank God! they are at it. In her hand she holds the key, which shines
+in the moon-beams.
+
+Hush! what is this? Voices close to the door! Step back behind the holly
+clump, for your lives, quickly! A key grinds in the lock; the bolt works
+rustily; the door opens, and tall Mr. Longcluse enters, with every
+sinister line and shadow of his pale face marked with a death-like
+sternness, in the moonlight. Mr. Levi enters almost beside him; how
+white his big eyeballs gleam, as he steps in under the same cold light!
+Who next?
+
+Her _brother_! Oh, God! The mad impulse to throw her arms about his
+neck, and shriek her wild appeal to his manhood, courage, love, and
+stake all on that momentary frenzy!
+
+As this group halts in silence, while Sir Richard locks the door, the
+Jew directs his big dark eyes, as she thinks, right upon Phoebe
+Chiffinch, who stands in the shadow, and is therefore, she faintly
+hopes, not visible behind the screen of glittering leaves. Her eyes,
+nevertheless, meet his. He advances his head a little, with more than
+his usual prying malignity, she thinks. Her heart flutters, and sinks.
+She is on the point of stepping from her shelter and surrendering. With
+his cane he strikes at the leaves, aiming, I daresay, at a moth, for
+nothing is quite below his notice, and he likes smashing even a fly. In
+this case, having hit or missed it, he turns his fiery eyes, to the
+infinite relief of the girl, another way.
+
+The three men who have thus stept into the grounds of Mortlake don't
+utter a word as they stand there. They now recommence their walk toward
+the house.
+
+Phoebe Chiffinch, breathless, is holding Alice Arden's wrist with a firm
+grasp. As they brush the holly-leaves, in passing, the very sprays that
+touch the dresses of the scared girls are stirring. The pale group
+drifts by in silence. They have each something to meditate on. They are
+not garrulous. On they walk, like three shadows. The distance widens,
+the shapes grow fainter.
+
+"They'll soon be at the house, Ma'am, and wild work then. You'll do
+something for poor Vargers? Well, time enough! You must not lose heart
+now, my lady. You're all right, if you keep up for ten minutes longer.
+You don't feel faint-like! Good lawk, Ma'am! rouse up."
+
+"I'm better, Phoebe; I'm quite well again. Come on--come on!"
+
+Carefully, to make as little noise as possible she turned the key in the
+lock, and they found themselves in a narrow lane running by the wall,
+and under the trees of Mortlake.
+
+"Which way?"
+
+"Not toward the 'Guy of Warwick.' They'll soon be in chase of us, and
+that is the way they'll take. 'Twould never do. Come away, my lady; it
+won't be long till we meet a cab or something to fetch us where you
+please. Lean on me. I wish we were away from this wall. What way do you
+mean to go?"
+
+"To my Uncle David's house."
+
+And having exchanged these words, they pursued their way side by side,
+for a time, in silence.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER LXXXVI.
+
+PURSUIT.
+
+
+Arrived at Mortlake, when Mr. Longcluse had discovered with certainty
+the flight of Alice Arden, his first thought was that Sir Richard had
+betrayed him. There was a momentary paroxysm of insane violence, in
+which, if he could only have discovered that he was the accomplice of
+Alice's escape, I think he would have killed him.
+
+It subsided. How could Alice Arden have possessed such an influence over
+this man, who seemed to hate her? He sat down, and placed his hand to
+his broad, pale forehead, his dark eyes glaring on the floor, in what
+seemed an intensity of thought and passion. He was seized with a violent
+trembling fit. It lasted only for a few minutes. I sometimes think he
+loved that girl desperately, and would have made her an idolatrous
+husband.
+
+He walked twice or thrice up and down the great parlour in which they
+sat, and then with cold malignity said to Sir Richard--
+
+"But for you she would have married me; but for you I should have
+secured her now. _Consider_, how shall I settle with you?"
+
+"Settle how you will--do what you will. I swear (and he did swear hard
+enough, if an oath could do it, to satisfy any man) I've had _nothing_
+to do with it. I've never had a hint that she meditated leaving this
+place. I can't conceive how it was done, nor who managed it, and I know
+no more than you do where she is gone." And he clenched his vehement
+disclaimer with an imprecation.
+
+Longcluse was silent for a minute.
+
+"She has gone, I assume, to David Arden's house," he said, looking down.
+"There is no other house to receive her in town, and she does not know
+that he is away still. She knows that Lady May, and other friends, have
+gone. She's _there_. The will makes you, colourably, her guardian. You
+shall claim the custody of her person. We'll go there, and remove her."
+
+Old Sir Reginald's will, I may remark, had been made years before, when
+Richard was not twenty-two, and Alice little more than a child, and the
+baronet and his son good friends.
+
+He stalked out. At the steps was his trap, which was there to take Levi
+into town. That gentleman, I need not say, he did not treat with much
+ceremony. He mounted, and Sir Richard Arden beside him; and, leaving the
+Jew to shift for himself, he drove at a furious pace down the avenue.
+The porter placed there by Longcluse, of course, opened the gate
+instantaneously at his call. Outside stood a cab, with a trunk on it. An
+old woman at the lodge-window, knocking and clamouring, sought
+admission.
+
+"Let no one in," said Longcluse sternly to the man, who locked the iron
+gate on their passing out.
+
+"Hallo! What brings _her_ here? That's the old housekeeper!" said
+Longcluse, pulling up suddenly.
+
+It was quite true. Her growing uneasiness about Alice had recalled the
+old woman from the North. Martha Tansey, who had heard the clang of the
+gate and the sound of wheels and hoofs, turned about and came to the
+side of the tax-cart, over which Longcluse was leaning. In the brilliant
+moonlight, on the white road, the branches cast a network of black
+shadow. A patch of light fell clear on the side of the trap, and on
+Longcluse's ungloved hand as he leaned on it.
+
+"Here am I, Martha Tansey, has lived fifty year wi' the family, and what
+for am I shut out of Mortlake now?" she demanded, with stern audacity.
+
+A sudden change, however, came over her countenance, which contracted in
+horror, and her old eyes opened wide and white as she gazed on the back
+of Longcluse's hand, on which was a peculiar star-shaped scar. She drew
+back with a low sound, like the growl of a wicked old cat; it rose
+gradually to such a yell and a cry to God as made Richard's blood run
+cold, and lifting her hand toward her temple, waveringly, the old woman
+staggered back, and fell in a faint on the road.
+
+Longcluse jumped down and hammered at the window. "Hallo!" he cried to
+the man, "send one of your people with this old woman; she's ill. Let
+her go in that cab to Sir Richard Arden's house in town; you know it."
+And he cried to the cabman, "Lift her in, will you?"
+
+And having done his devoir thus by the old woman, he springs again into
+his tax-cart, snatches the reins from Sir Richard, and drives on at a
+savage pace for town.
+
+Longcluse threw the reins to Sir Richard when they reached David Arden's
+house, and himself thundered at the door.
+
+They had searched Mortlake House for Alice, and that vain quest had not
+wasted more than half-an-hour. He rightly conjectured that, if Alice had
+fled to David Arden's house, some of the servants who received her must
+be still on the alert. The door is opened promptly by an elderly servant
+woman.
+
+"Sir Richard Arden is at the door, and he wants to know whether his
+sister, Miss Arden, has arrived here from Mortlake."
+
+"Yes, Sir; she's up-stairs; but not by no means well, Sir."
+
+Longcluse stepped in, to secure a footing, and beckoning excitedly to
+Sir Richard, called, "Come in; all right. Don't mind the horse; it will
+take its chance." He walked impatiently to the foot of the stairs, and
+turned again toward the street door.
+
+At this moment, and before Sir Richard had time to come in, there come
+swarming out of David Arden's study, most unexpectedly, nearly a dozen
+men, more than half of whom are in the garb of gentlemen, and some three
+of them police. Uncle David himself, in deep conversation with two
+gentlemen, one of whom is placing in his breast-pocket a paper which he
+has just folded, leads the way into the hall.
+
+As they there stand for a minute under the lamp, Mr. Longcluse, gazing
+at him sternly from the stair, caught his eye. Old David Arden stepped
+back a little, growing pale, with a sudden frown.
+
+"Oh! Mr. Arden?" says Longcluse, advancing as if he had come in search
+of him.
+
+"That's enough, Sir," cries Mr. Arden, extending his hand peremptorily
+toward him; and he adds, with a glance at the constables, "_There's_ the
+man. That is Walter Longcluse."
+
+Longcluse glances over his shoulder, and then grimly at the group before
+him, and gathered himself as if for a struggle; the next moment he walks
+forward frankly, and asks, "What is the meaning of all this?"
+
+"A warrant, Sir," answers the foremost policeman, clutching him by the
+collar.
+
+"No use, Sir, making a row," expostulates the next, also catching him by
+the collar and arm.
+
+"Mr. Arden, can you explain this?" says Mr. Longcluse coolly.
+
+"You may as well give in quiet," says the third policeman, producing the
+warrant. "A warrant for murder. Walter Longcluse, _alias_ Yelland Mace,
+I arrest you in the Queen's name."
+
+"There's a magistrate here? Oh! yes, I see. How d'ye do, Mr. Harman? My
+name is Longcluse, as you know. The name Mays, or any other _alias_,
+you'll not insult me by applying to me, if you please. Of course this is
+obvious and utter trumpery. Are there informations, or what the devil is
+it?"
+
+"They have just been sworn before me, Sir," answered the magistrate, who
+was a little man, with a wave of his hand, and his head high.
+
+"Well, really! don't you _see_ the absurdity? Upon my soul! It _is_
+really _too_ ridiculous! You won't inconvenience me, of course,
+unnecessarily. My own recognisance, I suppose, will do?"
+
+"Can't entertain your application; quite out of the question," said his
+worship, with his hands in his pockets, rising slightly on his toes, and
+descending on his heels, as he delivered this sentence with a stoical
+shake of his head.
+
+"You'll send for my attorney, of course? I'm not to be humbugged, you
+know."
+
+"I must tell you, Mr. Longcluse, I can't listen to such language,"
+observes Mr. Harman sublimely.
+
+"If you have informations, they are the dreams of a madman. I don't
+blame any one here. I say, policeman, you need not hold me quite so
+hard. I only say, joke or earnest, I can't make head or tail of it; and
+there's not a man in London who won't be shocked to hear how I've been
+treated. Once more, Mr. Harman, I tender bail, any amount. It's too
+ridiculous. You can't really have a difficulty."
+
+"The informations are very strong, Sir, and the offence, you know as
+well as I do, Mr. Longcluse, is not bailable."
+
+Mr. Longcluse shrugged, and laughed gently.
+
+"I may have a cab or something? My trap's at the door. It's not solemn
+enough, eh, Mr. Harman? Will you tell one of your fellows to pick up a
+cab? Perhaps, Mr. Arden, you'll allow me a chair to sit down upon?"
+
+"You can sit in the study, if you please," says David Arden.
+
+And Longcluse enters the room with the police about him, while the
+servant goes to look for a cab. Sir Richard Arden, you may be sure, was
+not there. He saw that something was wrong, and he had got away to his
+own house. On arriving there, he sent to make inquiry, cautiously, at
+his uncle's, and thus learned the truth.
+
+Standing at the window, he saw his messenger return, let him in himself,
+and then considered, as well as a man in so critical and terrifying a
+situation can, the wisest course for him to adopt. The simple one of
+flight he ultimately resolved on. He knew that Longcluse had still two
+executions against him, on which, at any moment, he might arrest him. He
+knew that he might launch at him, at any moment, the thunderbolt which
+would blast him. He must wait, however, until the morning had confirmed
+the news; that certain, he dared not act.
+
+With a cold and fearless bearing, Longcluse had by this time entered the
+dreadful door of a prison. His attorney was with him nearly the entire
+night.
+
+David Arden, as he promised, had dictated to him in outline the awful
+case he had massed against his client.
+
+"I don't want any man taken by surprise or at disadvantage; I simply
+wish for truth," said he.
+
+A copy of the written statement of Paul Davies, whatever it was worth,
+duly witnessed, was already in his hands; the sworn depositions of the
+same person, made in his last illness, were also there. There were also
+the sworn depositions of Vanboeren, who _had_, after all, recovered
+speech and recollection; and a deposition, besides, very unexpected, of
+old Martha Tansey, who swore distinctly to the scar, a very peculiar
+mark indeed, on the back of his left hand. This the old woman had
+recognised with horror, at a moment so similar, as the scar, long
+forgotten, which she had for a terrible moment seen on the hand of
+Yelland Mace, as he clutched the rail of the gig while engaged in the
+murder.
+
+The plaster masks, which figured in the affidavits of Vanboeren, and of
+David Arden, were re-cast from the moulds, and made an effectual
+identification, corroborated, in a measure, by Mr. Plumes' silhouette of
+Yelland Mace.
+
+Other surviving witnesses had also turned up, who had deposed when the
+murder of Harry Arden was a recent event. The whole case was, in the
+eyes of the attorney, a very awful one. Mr. Longcluse's counsel was
+called up, like a physician whose patient is _in extremis_, at dead of
+night, and had a talk with the attorney, and kept his notes to ponder
+over.
+
+As early as prison rules would permit, he was with Mr. Longcluse, where
+the attorney awaited him.
+
+Mr. Blinkinsop looked very gloomy.
+
+"Do you despair?" asked Mr. Longcluse sharply, after a long
+disquisition.
+
+"Let me ask you one question, Mr. Longcluse. You have, before I ask it,
+I assume, implicit confidence in us; am I right?"
+
+"Certainly--implicit."
+
+"If you are innocent, we might venture on a line of defence which may
+possibly break down the case for the Crown. If you are guilty, that line
+would be fatal." He hesitated, and looked at Mr. Longcluse.
+
+"I know such a question has been asked in like circumstances, and I have
+no hesitation in telling you that I am _not_ innocent. Assume my guilt."
+
+The attorney, who had been drumming a little tattoo on the table,
+watches Longcluse earnestly as he speaks, suspending his tune, now
+lowers his eyes to the table, and resumed his drumming slowly with a
+very dismal countenance. He had been talking over the chances with this
+eminent counsel, Mr. Blinkinsop, Q.C., and he knew what his opinion
+would now be.
+
+"One effect of a judgment in this case is forfeiture?" inquired Mr.
+Longcluse.
+
+"Yes," answered counsel.
+
+"Everything goes to the Crown, eh?"
+
+"Yes; clearly."
+
+"Well, I have neither wife nor children. I need not care; but suppose I
+make my will now; that's a good will, ain't it, between this and
+judgment, if things should go wrong?"
+
+"Certainly," said Mr. Blinkinsop. "No judgment no forfeiture."
+
+"And now, Doctor, don't be afraid; tell me truly, shall I _do_?" said
+Mr. Longcluse, leaning back, and looking darkly and steadily in his
+face.
+
+"It is a nasty case."
+
+"Don't be afraid, I say. I should like to know, are the chances two to
+one against me?"
+
+"I'm afraid they are."
+
+"Ten to one? Pray say what you think."
+
+"Well, I think so."
+
+Mr. Longcluse grew paler. They were all three silent. After about a
+minute, he said, in a very low tone,--
+
+"You don't think I have a chance? Don't mislead me."
+
+"It is very gloomy."
+
+Mr. Longcluse pressed his hand to his mouth. There was a silence.
+Perhaps he wished to hide some nervous movement there. He stood up,
+walked about a little, and then stood by Mr. Blinkinsop's chair, with
+his fingers on the back of it.
+
+"We must make a great fight of this," said Mr. Longcluse suddenly.
+"We'll fight it hard; we must win it. We _shall_ win it, by----"
+
+And after a short pause, he added gently,--
+
+"That will do. I think I'll rest now; more, perhaps, another time.
+Good-bye."
+
+As they left the room, he signed to the attorney to stay.
+
+"I have something for you--a word or two."
+
+The attorney turned back, and they remained closeted for a time.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER LXXXVII.
+
+CONCLUSION.
+
+
+Sir Richard Arden had learned how matters were with Mr. Longcluse. He
+hesitated. Flight might provoke action of the kind for which there
+seemed no longer a motive.
+
+In an agony of dubitation, as the day wore on, he was interrupted. Mr.
+Rooke, Mr. Longcluse's attorney, had called. There was no good in
+shirking a meeting. He was shown in.
+
+"This is for you, Sir Richard," said Mr. Rooke, presenting a large
+letter. "Mr. Longcluse wrote it about three hours ago, and requested me
+to place it in your own hand, as I now do."
+
+"It is not any _legal_ paper----" began Sir Richard.
+
+"I haven't an idea," answered he. "He gave it to me thus. I had some
+things to do for him afterwards, and a call to make, at his desire, at
+Mr. David Arden's. When I got home I was sent for again. I suppose you
+heard the news?"
+
+"No; what is it?"
+
+"Oh, dear, really! They have heard it some time at Mr. Arden's. You
+didn't hear about Mr. Longcluse?"
+
+"No, nothing, excepting what we all know--his arrest."
+
+The attorney's countenance darkened, and he said, dropping his voice as
+low as he would have given a message in church--
+
+"Oh, poor gentleman! he died to-day. Some kind of fit, I believe; he's
+gone!"
+
+Then Mr. Rooke went into particulars, so far as he knew them, and
+mentioned that the coroner's inquest would be held that afternoon; and
+so he departed.
+
+Unmixed satisfaction accompanied the hearing of this news in Sir
+Richard's mind. But with reflection came the terrifying question, "Has
+Levi got hold of that instrument of torture and ruin--the forged
+signature?"
+
+In this new horror he saw the envelope which Rooke had handed to him,
+upon the table. He opened it, and saw the forged deed. Written across
+it, in Longcluse's hand, were the words--
+
+    "Paid by W. Longcluse before due.
+
+    "W. LONGCLUSE."
+
+That day's date was added.
+
+So the evidence of his guilt was no longer in the hands of a stranger,
+and Sir Richard Arden was saved.
+
+David Arden had already received under like circumstances, and by the
+same hand, two papers of immense importance. The first written in
+Rooke's hand and duly witnessed, was a very short will, signed by the
+testator, Walter Longcluse, and leaving his enormous wealth absolutely
+to David Arden. The second was a letter which attached a trust to this
+bequest. The letter said--
+
+    "I am the son of Edwin Raikes, your cousin. He had cast me off for
+    my vices, when I committed the crime, not intended to have amounted
+    to murder. It was Harry Arden's determined resistance and my danger
+    that cost him his life. I did kill Lebas. I could not help it. He
+    was a fool, and might have ruined me; and that villain, Vanboeren,
+    has spoken truth for once.
+
+    "I meant to set up the Arden family in my person. I should have
+    taken the name. My father relented on his death-bed, and left me his
+    money. I went to New York, and received it. I made a new start in
+    life. On the Bourse in Paris, and in Vienna, I made a fortune by
+    speculation; I improved it in London. You may take it all by my
+    will. Do with half the interest as you please, during your lifetime.
+    The other half pay to Miss Alice Arden, and the entire capital you
+    are to secure to her on your death.
+
+    "I had taken assignments of all the mortgages affecting the Arden
+    estates. They must go to Miss Arden, and be secured unalienably to
+    her.
+
+    "My life has been arduous and direful. That miserable crime hung
+    over me, and its dangers impeded me at every turn.
+
+    "You have played your game well, but with all the odds of the
+    position in your favour. I am tired, beaten. The match is over, and
+    you may rise now and say Checkmate.
+
+    "WALTER LONGCLUSE."
+
+That Longcluse had committed suicide, of course I can have no doubt. It
+must have been effected by some unusually subtle poison. The post-mortem
+examination failed to discover its presence. But there was found in his
+desk a curious paper, in French, published about five months before,
+upon certain vegetable poisons, whose presence in the system no chemical
+test detects, and no external trace records. This paper was noted here
+and there on the margin, and had been obviously carefully read. Any of
+these tinctures he could without much trouble have procured from Paris.
+But no distinct light was ever thrown upon this inquiry.
+
+In a small and lonely house, tenanted by Longcluse, in the then less
+crowded region of Richmond, were found proofs, no longer needed, of
+Longcluse's identity, both with the horseman who had met Paul Davies on
+Hampstead Heath, and the person who crossed the Channel from Southampton
+with David Arden, and afterwards met him in the streets of Paris, as we
+have seen. There he had been watching his movements, and traced him,
+with dreadful suspicion, to the house of Vanboeren. The turn of a die
+had determined the fate of David Arden that night. Longcluse had
+afterwards watched and seized an opportunity of entering Vanboeren's
+house. He knew that the baron expected the return of his messenger, rang
+the bell, and was admitted. The old servant had gone to her bed, and was
+far away in that vast house.
+
+Longcluse would have stabbed him, but the baron recognised him, and
+sprang back with a yell. Instantly Longcluse had used his revolver; but
+before he could make assurance doubly sure, his quick ear detected a
+step outside. He then made his exit through a window into a deserted
+lane at the side of the house, and had not lost a moment in commencing
+his flight for London.
+
+With respect to the murder of Lebas, the letter of Longcluse pretty
+nearly explains it. That unlucky Frenchman had attended him through his
+recovery under the hands of Vanboeren; and Longcluse feared to trust, as
+it now might turn out, his life, in his giddy keeping. Of course, Lebas
+had no idea of the nature of his crime, or that in England was the scene
+of its perpetration. Longcluse had made up his mind promptly on the
+night of the billiard-match played in the Saloon Tavern. When every eye
+was fixed upon the balls, he and Lebas met, as they had ultimately
+agreed, in the smoking-room. A momentary meeting it was to have been.
+The dagger which he placed in his keeping, Longcluse plunged into his
+heart. In the stream of blood that instantaneously flowed from the wound
+Longcluse stepped, and made one distinct impression of his boot-sole on
+the boards. A tracing of this Paul Davies had made, and had got the
+signatures of two or three respectable Londoners before the room filled,
+attesting its accuracy, he affecting, while he did so, to be a member of
+the detective police, from which body, for a piece of _over_-cleverness,
+he had been only a few weeks before dismissed. Having made his tracing,
+he obscured the blood-mark on the floor.
+
+The opportunity of distinguishing himself at his old craft, to the
+prejudice of the force, whom he would have liked to mortify, while
+earning, perhaps, his own restoration, was his first object. The
+delicacy of the shape of the boot struck him next. He then remembered
+having seen Longcluse--and his was the only eye that observed him--pass
+swiftly from the passage leading to the smoking-room at the beginning of
+the game. His mind had now matter to work upon; and hence his visit to
+Bolton Street to secure possession of the boot, which he did by an
+audacious _ruse_.
+
+His subsequent interview with Mr. Longcluse, in presence of David Arden,
+was simply a concerted piece of acting, on which Longcluse, when he had
+made his terms with Davies, insisted, as a security against the
+re-opening of the extortion.
+
+Nothing will induce Alice to accept one farthing of Longcluse's
+magnificent legacy. Secretly Uncle David is resolved to make it up to
+her from his own wealth, which is very great.
+
+Richard Arden's story is not known to any living person but the Jew
+Levi, and vaguely to his sister, in whose mind it remains as something
+horrible, but never approached.
+
+Levi keeps the secret for reasons more cogent than charitable. First he
+kept it to himself as a future instrument of profit. But on his
+insinuating something that promised such relations to Sir Richard, the
+young gentleman met it with so bold a front, with fury so unaffected,
+and with threats so alarming, founded upon a trifling matter of which
+the Jew had never suspected his knowledge, that Mr. Levi has not
+ventured either to "utilise" his knowledge, in a profitable way, or
+afterwards to circulate the story for the solace of his malice. They
+seem, in Mr. Rooke's phrase, to have turned their backs on one another;
+and as some years have passed, and lapse of time does not improve the
+case of a person in Mr. Levi's position, we may safely assume that he
+will never dare to circulate any definite stories to Sir Richard's
+prejudice. A sufficient motive, indeed, for doing so exists no longer,
+for Sir Richard, who had lived an unsettled life travelling on the
+Continent, and still playing at foreign tables when he could afford it,
+died suddenly at Florence in the autumn of '69.
+
+Vivian Darnley has been in "the House," now, nearly four years. Uncle
+David is very proud of him; and more impartial people think that he
+will, at last, take an honourable place in that assembly. His last
+speech has been spoken of everywhere with applause. David Arden's
+immensely increased wealth enables him to entertain very magnificent
+plans for this young man. He intends that he shall take the name of
+Arden, and earn the transmission of the title, or the distinction of a
+greater one.
+
+A year ago Vivian Darnley married Alice Arden, and no two people can be
+happier.
+
+Lady May, although her girlish ways have not forsaken her, has no
+present thoughts of making any man happy. She had a great cry all to
+herself when Sir Richard died, and she now persuades herself that he
+never meant one word he said of her, and that if the truth were known,
+although after that day she never spoke to him more, he had never really
+cared for more than one woman on earth. It was all spite of that odious
+Lady Wynderbroke!
+
+Alice has never seen Mortlake since the night of her flight from its
+walls.
+
+The two old servants, Crozier and Martha Tansey, whose acquaintance we
+made in that suburban seat of the Ardens, are both, I am glad to say,
+living still, and extremely comfortable.
+
+Phoebe Chiffinch, I am glad to add, was jilted by her uninteresting
+lover, who little knew what a fortune he was slighting. His desertion
+does not seem to have broken her heart, or at all affected her spirits.
+The gratitude of Alice Arden has established her in the prosperous
+little Yorkshire town, the steep roof, chimneys, and church tower of
+which are visible, among the trees, from the windows of Arden Court. She
+is the energetic and popular proprietress of the "Cat and Fiddle," to
+which thriving inn, at a nominal rent, a valuable farm is attached. A
+fortune of two thousand pounds from the same grateful friend awaits her
+marriage, which can't be far off, with the handsome son of rich Farmer
+Shackleton.
+
+THE END.
+
+
+
+
+  [ Transcriber's Note:
+
+    The following is a list of corrections made to the original.
+    The first line is the original line, the second the corrected one.
+
+    ALL IN DARK
+    ALL IN THE DARK
+
+  good humouredly.
+  good-humouredly.
+
+  Mr. Longcluse, the millionarie, had, of course, many poor enviers. Had
+  Mr. Longcluse, the millionaire, had, of course, many poor enviers. Had
+
+  sent me down for Charles; and the boy will be back. Sir, in two or three
+  sent me down for Charles; and the boy will be back, Sir, in two or three
+
+  "Oh oh! very good. And now, Sir," he said, in rising fury, turning upon
+  "Oh, oh! very good. And now, Sir," he said, in rising fury, turning upon
+
+  "You know him, Mr Darnley?" inquired Lady May.
+  "You know him, Mr. Darnley?" inquired Lady May.
+
+  "Why should it?" laughed Vivian Darnley, partly to cover perhaps, a
+  "Why should it?" laughed Vivian Darnley, partly to cover, perhaps, a
+
+  pretended to think her great deal more frightened than she really can
+  pretended to think her a great deal more frightened than she really can
+
+  you, and he ll arrange everything; and how soon do you wish to go?"
+  you, and he'll arrange everything; and how soon do you wish to go?"
+
+  likely to marry His estate was in the nattiest order. He had always
+  likely to marry. His estate was in the nattiest order. He had always
+
+  don't know what to make of it exactly; but it pleases her, and she
+  doesn't know what to make of it exactly; but it pleases her, and she
+
+  give an exact description of the man who had been dogging the decased;
+  give an exact description of the man who had been dogging the deceased;
+
+  for more than six years. And why? I needn't tell yon. You know the
+  for more than six years. And why? I needn't tell you. You know the
+
+  him for ever?"
+  him for ever!"
+
+  something. What has frightened you!"
+  something. What has frightened you?"
+
+  as he may suppose, and dated, and signed by espectable people; and I
+  as he may suppose, and dated, and signed by respectable people; and I
+
+  must try to persuade Lady May to get up that party to the Derby,"
+  must try to persuade Lady May to get up that party to the Derby."
+
+  "I believe," said Mr. Longcluse, with a laugh. "I am growing
+  "I believe," said Mr. Longcluse, with a laugh, "I am growing
+
+  "Yes, a little, perhaps. Don't you."
+  "Yes, a little, perhaps. Don't you?"
+
+  now, Master David, and not much for this world, I'm thinking'," she
+  now, Master David, and not much for this world, I'm thinking," she
+
+  this, ye have just a chilly flush o' the sun' settin', and, before it's
+  this, ye have just a chilly flush o' the sun settin', and, before it's
+
+  unacountable though distant relation to the vague suspicions that had
+  unaccountable though distant relation to the vague suspicions that had
+
+  "Do you know that gentleman's name!"
+  "Do you know that gentleman's name?"
+
+  you see, as to the indentity of the person you suspect; but some person
+  you see, as to the identity of the person you suspect; but some person
+
+  a swaggering' cove, and a yard o' red beard over his waistcoat, and
+  a swaggerin' cove, and a yard o' red beard over his waistcoat, and
+
+  very foolishly, and we _must_ drop him And now, darling, good-bye."
+  very foolishly, and we _must_ drop him. And now, darling, good-bye."
+
+  his homage, his tone of melancholy deference ever since she had know
+  his homage, his tone of melancholy deference ever since she had known
+
+  He heard the piano faintly, and, he thought, Alice's voice lso; and
+  He heard the piano faintly, and, he thought, Alice's voice also; and
+
+  certainly he saw Vivian Darnley in the drawing-room indow, as his cab
+  certainly he saw Vivian Darnley in the drawing-room window, as his cab
+
+  others a note from Lady Mary Penrose, reminding him of her little
+  others a note from Lady May Penrose, reminding him of her little
+
+  unauthenticated, unpleasant. There were whispered with sneers by Mr.
+  unauthenticated, unpleasant. These were whispered with sneers by Mr.
+
+  have thought that, the muscian having departed, their stay in that room
+  have thought that, the musician having departed, their stay in that room
+
+  So over the short grass that handsome girl walked, with Mr Longcluse at
+  So over the short grass that handsome girl walked, with Mr. Longcluse at
+
+  "Yes, she was here; she came with Lady Tramways. They went away about
+  "Yes, she was here; she came with Lady Tramway. They went away about
+
+  "Now, Sir, you'll be so good as to to observe that you have taken upon
+  "Now, Sir, you'll be so good as to observe that you have taken upon
+
+  trace a name or two on the pages that are passing That sunset, that
+  trace a name or two on the pages that are passing. That sunset, that
+
+  saw it, and the Caesars saw it, and the Pharoahs saw it, and we see it
+  saw it, and the Caesars saw it, and the Pharaohs saw it, and we see it
+
+  with coarse, black hair, that might not unsuitable stuff a chair. His
+  with coarse, black hair, that might not unsuitably stuff a chair. His
+
+  But not pays his bets! And how could he? Ten shillings in the pound? Not
+  But not pay his bets! And how could he? Ten shillings in the pound? Not
+
+  the rest are rifling, but they were the most impertinent, and I was so
+  the rest are trifling, but they were the most impertinent, and I was so
+
+  eloquence. There was in Cicero's face, he though, something satirical
+  eloquence. There was in Cicero's face, he thought, something satirical
+
+  again in danger. I I am not going to help you." His blue eyes looked cold
+  again in danger. I am not going to help you." His blue eyes looked cold
+
+      refugees.
+      refugees."
+
+  circumstances to which I have but alluded, I hope to be in town
+  circumstances to which I have but alluded. I hope to be in town
+
+  hall-door Don't mind knocking, ring the bell," he said to the driver.
+  hall-door. Don't mind knocking, ring the bell," he said to the driver.
+
+  and distinctness, and in accents that seemed, somehow to ring through
+  and distinctness, and in accents that seemed, somehow, to ring through
+
+  table, at the other of which he had arrested his monotonous shuffle
+  table, at the other end of which he had arrested his monotonous shuffle
+
+  So spoke Tansey, into whose talk, in moments of excitement returned
+  So spoke Tansey, into whose talk, in moments of excitement, returned
+
+  "No, dear, never mind him--he's well enough." David, Arden peeped at his
+  "No, dear, never mind him--he's well enough." David Arden peeped at his
+
+  sheventeen, ash I m a shinner!"
+  sheventeen, ash I'm a shinner!"
+
+  In a very small room, where burned a single jet of gas, Mr. Mr. Arden
+  In a very small room, where burned a single jet of gas, Mr. Arden
+
+  CHAPTER XLVIII
+  CHAPTER XLVIII.
+
+  suavity of manner, and in the perennial mourning that belongs to a
+  suavity of manner, and in the perennial mourning that belongs to
+
+  which would corroborate his first vague suspicions?"
+  which would corroborate his first vague suspicions?
+
+  The oak-parlour was a fine old room, and into the panels were let four
+  The oak-parlour was a fine old room, and into the panels were set four
+
+  Italian greyhound by a blue ribbon, and the gentlemen stood booted for
+  Italian greyhound by a blue ribbon, and the gentleman stood booted for
+
+  he'll stay still your Uncle David comes, for he told him he had something
+  he'll stay till your Uncle David comes, for he told him he had something
+
+  under the little chuch, whose steeple cast its shadow every sunny
+  under the little church, whose steeple cast its shadow every sunny
+
+  from Lady May Penrose a note, in the folowing terms:--
+  from Lady May Penrose a note, in the following terms:--
+
+  least picturesque and and most probable way. I should like to know the
+  least picturesque and most probable way. I should like to know the
+
+  that gradually overcome her more and more till she almost felt faint,
+  that gradually overcame her more and more till she almost felt faint,
+
+  connected with Alice? Slowly it passes along. Through one opening made
+  connected with Alice! Slowly it passes along. Through one opening made
+
+  to ensure a system of check, such as would made it next to impossible
+  to ensure a system of check, such as would make it next to impossible
+
+  Vanboeren
+  Vanboeren.
+
+  in London, was, I believe in your employment?"
+  in London, was, I believe, in your employment?"
+
+  "I am in London, Sir, ubon my business, and no one else's. I I am sinking
+  "I am in London, Sir, ubon my business, and no one else's. I am sinking
+
+  battered felt hat, in which a a costermonger would scarcely have gone
+  battered felt hat, in which a costermonger would scarcely have gone
+
+  end contracting some some incurable insanity; and that insanity of the
+  end contracting some incurable insanity; and that insanity of the
+
+  who is for a moment doubtful whther its terrors or its fury may
+  who is for a moment doubtful whether its terrors or its fury may
+
+  gallery exsited. How were they taken? Photographs are the colourless
+  gallery existed. How were they taken? Photographs are the colourless
+
+  There is something in that pale face and spectra smile that fascinates
+  There is something in that pale face and spectral smile that fascinates
+
+  Boulogne, or where he likes--I'll stand t--and I don't think he'll need
+  Boulogne, or where he likes--I'll stand it--and I don't think he'll need
+
+  "Yes, as were driving into town to-day, Uncle David told me so
+  "Yes, as we were driving into town to-day, Uncle David told me so
+
+  would marry me at all, Isn't it better to say, 'My Angelina,' or
+  would marry me at all. Isn't it better to say, 'My Angelina,' or
+
+  message for his sister with old Crozier ordered his servant and trap to
+  message for his sister with old Crozier, ordered his servant and trap to
+
+  harmlesh."
+  harmlesh.'"
+
+  heavy skip upon the flags, where she executed an involuutary frisk that
+  heavy skip upon the flags, where she executed an involuntary frisk that
+
+  staring at the smiling face of the young lady; you can't be serious!"
+  staring at the smiling face of the young lady; "you can't be serious!"
+
+  was no more), she had herished for him was gone, and a great disgust
+  was no more), she had cherished for him was gone, and a great disgust
+
+  was there nstead.
+  was there instead.
+
+  almos breathlessly,--
+  almost breathlessly,--
+
+  see the cold glimmer of the windows that reflected the gray horizon.
+  see the cold glimmer of the windows that reflected the grey horizon.
+
+  the gate he saw the distant lights, and heard through the the dim air the
+  the gate he saw the distant lights, and heard through the dim air the
+
+  dragging Levi by the arm all this time towards the candles: "do now,
+  dragging Levi by the arm all this time towards the candles): "do now,
+
+  heaven, before I have time to think?"
+  heaven, before I have time to think!"
+
+  "That'sh the note you forgot in my offish yeshterday, withhish name
+  "That'sh the note you forgot in my offish yeshterday, with hish name
+
+  enter. How your friends will laugh?"
+  enter. How your friends will laugh!"
+
+  "La! who'd a thought o' seeing you, Master Richard! why, ou told Miss
+  "La! who'd a thought o' seeing you, Master Richard! why, you told Miss
+
+  Alice you'd not be here till to-morrow!" she says ettishly, holding the
+  Alice you'd not be here till to-morrow!" she says pettishly, holding the
+
+  afraid of him! Dick, you look ill and unhappy: what's the matter!"
+  afraid of him! Dick, you look ill and unhappy: what's the matter?"
+
+  family there a happetite for another up here Azh I 'ope to be shaved, I
+  family there a happetite for another up here. Azh I 'ope to be shaved, I
+
+  locked. and the keysh with him, before dark, thish evening, except only
+  locked, and the keysh with him, before dark, thish evening, except only
+
+  Sir Richard leaned back in the cab as he drove into town, He had as yet
+  Sir Richard leaned back in the cab as he drove into town. He had as yet
+
+  no plan formed. It was a more complicated exploit that he was at the
+  no plan formed. It was a more complicated exploit than he was at the
+
+  spirited away like the rest Sir Richard had told her that his sister
+  spirited away like the rest. Sir Richard had told her that his sister
+
+  Richard lounges, expecting the arrival of David Arden almost momentarily.
+  Richard lounge, expecting the arrival of David Arden almost momentarily.
+
+  six distinct master-pieces of Watteau's. I have know that for ten
+  six distinct master-pieces of Watteau's. I have known that for ten
+
+  but slightly. You wish. perhaps to learn particulars about those
+  but slightly. You wish, perhaps, to learn particulars about those
+
+  "But you talk of bringing me face to face withthem; how soon?"
+  "But you talk of bringing me face to face with them; how soon?"
+
+  "No, in the the solid. Here is the key of the catacombs." And he took a
+  "No, in the solid. Here is the key of the catacombs." And he took a
+
+  "Bah! what a wise man Then I may show you whom I please, and you know
+  "Bah! what a wise man. Then I may show you whom I please, and you know
+
+  "And _is_ more. Why, count the words, one, two, four six, eight. There
+  "And _is_ more. Why, count the words, one, two, four, six, eight. There
+
+  nothing. Come, come. Monsieur! kindly take the candle."
+  nothing. Come, come, Monsieur! kindly take the candle."
+
+  which his work has strewn the floor
+  which his work has strewn the floor.
+
+  step, all is up with that, You see--you understand. Bah! you are no
+  step, all is up with that. You see--you understand. Bah! you are no
+
+  fool; it is plain. all I sacrifice."
+  fool; it is plain, all I sacrifice."
+
+  fared with him, if he had, I can't tell."
+  fared with him, if he had, I can't tell.
+
+  CHATPER LXXXIV.
+  CHAPTER LXXXIV.
+
+  mind; I know it all know," she whispered, as she walked softly up to the
+  mind; I know it all now," she whispered, as she walked softly up to the
+
+  time, or I'll tell 'em there's no good keepin' me 'ere no longer I
+  time, or I'll tell 'em there's no good keepin' me 'ere no longer. I
+
+  to do it. I've never had a hint that she meditated leaving this
+  to do with it. I've never had a hint that she meditated leaving this
+
+  upon the table. He opened it, and saw the orged deed. Written across
+  upon the table. He opened it, and saw the forged deed. Written across
+
+  desk a curious paper, in French. published about five months before,
+  desk a curious paper, in French, published about five months before,
+
+  nearly explains it. That unlucky Frenchman had attended him though his
+  nearly explains it. That unlucky Frenchman had attended him through his
+
+  ]
+
+
+
+
+
+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Checkmate, by Joseph Sheridan Le Fanu
+
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