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You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: 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 & 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>“SAUL,”</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 “GUY OF WARWICK,”</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>PHŒBE 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—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.</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 “life and adventures,” 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>“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?”</p> + +<p>Mr. Longcluse smiled.</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>“I'm so glad! And what do they say can have been the +motive of the murder?”</p> + +<p>“Jealousy, they say; or else the man is mad.”</p> + +<p>“I should not wonder. I'm sure I hope he is. But they +should take care to put him under lock and key.”</p> + +<p>“So they will, rely on it; that's a matter of course.”</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>“We have a murder in our family, you know,” said Richard +Arden.</p> + +<p>“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.</p> + +<p>“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—</p> + +<p>“You are always so thoughtful; it is <em>so</em> nice of you!”</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>“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. +<a class="pagenum" name="Page_4" title="4"> </a> +I was very young then—somewhere about seventeen, I +think.”</p> + +<p>“You can't have been more, of course,” said good-natured +Lady May.</p> + +<p>“I should like very much some time to hear all about it,” +continued Mr. Longcluse.</p> + +<p>“So you shall,” said Richard, “whenever you like.”</p> + +<p>“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. <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.”</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>“Very prettily said!” applauded Lady May affably.</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>“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?”</p> + +<p>“Perhaps a little.”</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—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, “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?</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—well, perhaps, +that he did not appreciate the social omnipotence of money.</p> + +<p>“Where is Sir Reginald at present?” asked Lady May.</p> + +<p>“Not here, you may be sure,” answered Richard. “My +father does not admit my visits, you know.”</p> + +<p>“Really! And is that miserable quarrel kept up still?”</p> + +<p>“Only too true. He is in France at present; at Vichy—ain't +it Vichy?” he said to Alice.</p> + +<p>But she, not choosing to talk, said simply, “Yes—Vichy.”</p> + +<p>“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.</p> + +<p>“I only feared I was boring you all. Nothing, <em>you</em> know, +would give me half so much pleasure,” he answered.</p> + +<p>“Well, then, she'll expect your visits, mind.”</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—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>“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.”</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>“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.”</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">“By-the-bye</span>, 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?”</p> + +<p>“Certainly, I should like extremely,” said Mr. Longcluse.</p> + +<p>They were now at the door of the housekeeper's room, and +Richard Arden knocked.</p> + +<p>“Come in,” 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, +“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.</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, “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.</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—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.”</p> + +<p>“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?”</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, “My God, lighten our darkness, we +beseech thee!” and she looked as if she were on the point of +fainting.</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>“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?”</p> + +<p>“Very bad, Sir. I beg your pardon for sitting, but I could +not help; and the gentleman will excuse me.”</p> + +<p><a class="pagenum" name="Page_9" title="9"> </a>“Of course—but what's the matter?” said Richard.</p> + +<p>“A sudden fright like, Sir. I'm all over on a tremble,” she +quavered.</p> + +<p>“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!”</p> + +<p>“I beg your pardon, a thousand times, but I find my old friend +Martha feels a little faint and ill,” said Richard.</p> + +<p>“Dear me! I hope she's better,” said Mr. Longcluse, +approaching with solicitude. “Can I be of any use? Shall I +touch the bell?”</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>“Don't you think a glass of wine might do her good?” asked +Mr. Longcluse.</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>“You look better,” said Richard.</p> + +<p>“I'm quite right again, Sir,” she said, with a sigh. She had +taken her “drops,” and seemed restored.</p> + +<p>“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.”</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>“Poor old Tansey! She looked awfully ill,” said Richard +Arden at last.</p> + +<p>“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?”</p> + +<p>“No. She grumbles a good deal, but I really think she's a +healthy old woman enough. She says she was frightened.”</p> + +<p>“We came in too suddenly, perhaps?”</p> + +<p>“No, that wasn't it, for I knocked first,” said Arden.</p> + +<p>“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.</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—a picture presented but for a +fraction of a second, but thenceforward ineffaceable—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, “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?”</p> + +<p>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 <i lang="la" xml:lang="la">lues Napoleonica</i> 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.”</p> + +<p>“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,” 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.”</p> + +<p>“Happiness is for <em>no</em> 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 <em>my</em> miserable +case.”</p> + +<p>Richard Arden laughed, as he lighted his second cigar.</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>“I wish, Arden, I dare tell you all; but some day I'll tell you +more.”</p> + +<p>“The only thing is<span style="white-space: nowrap;">——</span> You'll not mind my telling you, as +you have been so frank with me?”</p> + +<p>“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?”</p> + +<p>“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 +<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.”</p> + +<p>“A thousand thanks for any hints that strike you,” said +Longcluse <ins title="good humouredly">good-humouredly</ins>.</p> + +<p>“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?”</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>“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 <em>that night</em>, I +think—summat awful. And who <em>was</em> there? No one. Lighten +our darkness, we beseech thee, O Lord! for my heart is sore +troubled.”</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 “Guy of Warwick,” +<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>“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.”</p> + +<p>“You make too much of these. Lady May thinks your face, +she says, very interesting—upon my honour, she does.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, heaven!” exclaimed Mr. Longcluse, with a shrug and +a laugh.</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>“It won't do, Arden; you are too good-natured,” said he, +laughing more bitterly.</p> + +<p>“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.</p> + +<p>“But the heaviest curse upon me is that which, perhaps, you +do not suspect—the curse of—secrecy.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, really!” 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>“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.”</p> + +<p>There followed here a silence of two or three minutes, and +then, on a sudden, pathetically, Mr. Longcluse broke forth—</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>“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 <em>you</em> +are agreeable, successful and wealthy—you must see what +follows.”</p> + +<p>“I'm out of spirits,” 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 “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.</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—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.</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, “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.</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>“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 <em>illness</em> but for you. How can I ever +thank you half enough?”</p> + +<p>“And the grand secret—the political difficulty—Monsieur +found it well evaded,” he said, mysteriously touching his upper +lip with two fingers.</p> + +<p>“Not all quiet yet. I suppose you thought I was in Vienna?”</p> + +<p><a class="pagenum" name="Page_18" title="18"> </a>“Eh? well, yes—so I did,” answered Lebas, with a shrug. +“But perhaps you think this place safer.”</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>“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;">——</span>”</p> + +<p>“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?”</p> + +<p>“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!”</p> + +<p>“You left all at home well, I hope—children?” He was going +to say “Madame,” but a good many years had passed.</p> + +<p>“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.</p> + +<p>Longcluse laughed kindly, and laid his hand upon his +shoulder.</p> + +<p>“You must take charge of a little present for each from me, +and one for Madame. And the old business still flourishes?”</p> + +<p>“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.</p> + +<p>“<em>Hush!</em>” 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.</p> + +<p>“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> +‘You can't wash your shirt but you must tell the world.’ It is +my weakness truly. She is a woman of extraordinary penetration.”</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>“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.”</p> + +<p>“Monsieur is too good,” he said with effusion.</p> + +<p>“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?”</p> + +<p>“I see perfectly, Monsieur.”</p> + +<p>“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—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?”</p> + +<p>“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;">——</span>”</p> + +<p>“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?”</p> + +<p>“But in a pocket-book, Monsieur.”</p> + +<p>“All the more convenient for the <i lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">chevalier d'industrie</i>,” 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.”</p> + +<p>“Gabriel thought there would be none here but men distinguished,” +said Lebas, in some consternation.</p> + +<p>“Distinguished by the special attention of the police, some of +them,” said Longcluse.</p> + +<p><a class="pagenum" name="Page_20" title="20"> </a>“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!”</p> + +<p>“It proves, at all events, Lebas, that there are people here +other than gentlemen and men of honest lives,” said Longcluse.</p> + +<p>“But,” said Lebas, brightening a little, “I have this weapon,” +producing a dagger from the same pocket.</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>“I can return to the Hill of Ludgate—eh?”</p> + +<p>“Pity to lose the game; they won't let you back again,” said +Longcluse.</p> + +<p>“What shall I do?” 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>“Listen to me,” said Longcluse, suddenly. “Is your brother-in-law +here?”</p> + +<p>“No, Monsieur.”</p> + +<p>“Well, you have some London friend in the room, haven't +you?”</p> + +<p>“One—yes.”</p> + +<p>“Only be sure he is one whom you can trust, and who has a +safe pocket.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, yes, Monsieur, entirely! and I saw him place his purse +so,” he said, touching his coat, over his heart, with his fingers.</p> + +<p>“Well, now, you can't manage it here, under the gaze of the +people; but—<em>where</em> 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.”</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>“Don't mind; how is the baron?” asked Longcluse.</p> + +<p><a class="pagenum" name="Page_21" title="21"> </a>“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;">——</span>”</p> + +<p>“<em>Hush!</em>” whispered Longcluse, sternly.</p> + +<p>“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.”</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>“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.</p> + +<p>“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.</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 “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,—</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>“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.</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—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?</p> + +<p>“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.</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 “a convulsive smile,” 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>“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.”</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>“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.”</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—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.</p> + +<p>“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 +<a class="pagenum" name="Page_27" title="27"> </a> +was fumbling in his pockets, and pretending a difficulty about +finding change.</p> + +<p>“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.</p> + +<p>“A trifle past ten, Sir.”</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>“Will you please to get in, Sir?” 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 “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.</p> + +<p>“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;">——</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?”</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>“Where's Franklin?”</p> + +<p>“Arranging things in your room, Sir.”</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>Up-stairs went the pale master of the house. “Franklin!” +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>“Yes, Sir.”</p> + +<p>“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.</p> + +<p>“Shall I fetch your tea, Sir?”</p> + +<p>“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.”</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 “turn out” for their daily labour that sleep at +length visited the wearied eye-balls of the Crœsus.</p> + +<p>Three hours of death-like sleep, and Mr. Longcluse, with a +little start, was wide awake.</p> + +<p>“Franklin!”</p> + +<p>“Yes, Sir.” And Mr. Franklin stood at his bedside.</p> + +<p>“What o'clock is it?”</p> + +<p>“Just struck ten, Sir.”</p> + +<p>“Hand me the <cite>Times</cite>.” This was done.</p> + +<p>“Tell them to get breakfast as usual. I'm coming down. +Open the shutters, and draw the curtains, quite.”</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—“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.</p> + +<p>“How awfully seedy I am looking!” he muttered, after a +careful inspection. “Better by-and-by.”</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>“I should hardly know myself,” muttered he. “What a +confounded, sinful old fogey I look, and I so young and +innocent!”</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>“When I have had my tub, I shall be quite another man,” +said he.</p> + +<p>But it did not give him the usual fillip; on the contrary, he +felt rather chilled.</p> + +<p>“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 +<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!—hand, heart, every joint. I have grown such +a muff!”</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>“Dressing-gown and slippers—what a lazy dog I +am compared with you!” said Longcluse gaily as he entered.</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>“Won't you take something?”</p> + +<p>“Well, as I have had no breakfast, I don't mind if I do,” +said Arden, laughing.</p> + +<p>Longcluse rang the bell.</p> + +<p>“When did you leave that place last night?” asked Longcluse.</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>He handed him the <cite>Times</cite>.</p> + +<p>“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?”</p> + +<p><a class="pagenum" name="Page_32" title="32"> </a>“I never saw so many together in a place of the kind +before,” said Longcluse.</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>“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—<em>very</em> soon, or never. <em>Never</em>, perhaps, would be +wisest.”</p> + +<p>“Speak <em>now</em>, 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.”</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, “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.”</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>“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?”</p> + +<p>“Well, perhaps I do—perhaps I don't. Give me some +clue.”</p> + +<p>“Have you formed no conjecture?” asked Longcluse.</p> + +<p>“Perhaps.”</p> + +<p>“Is it anything in any way connected with your sister, Miss +Arden?”</p> + +<p>“It may be, possibly.”</p> + +<p>“Say what you think, Arden, I beseech you.”</p> + +<p>“Well, I think, perhaps, you admire her.”</p> + +<p>“Do I? Do I? Is that all? Would to God I could say +that is all! Admiration, what is it?—Nothing. Love?—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?”</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>“Well, what's the matter? My dear Longcluse, you talk as +if I had shown signs of wavering friendship. Have I? Quite +the contrary.”</p> + +<p>“Quite the contrary, that is true,” said Longcluse eagerly. +“Yes, you <em>should</em> 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!”</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>“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.”</p> + +<p>He continued to hold Arden's hand in his as he spoke.</p> + +<p>“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 <i lang="la" xml:lang="la">fædere icto</i>. I'm an +exacting friend, but a good one.”</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>Longcluse pressed his hand, which he had not relinquished, +at these words, with a firm grasp and a quick shake.</p> + +<p>“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!—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.”</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>Longcluse spoke with a gloomy excitement that his companion +did not quite understand.</p> + +<p>“That is quite true, of course,” said Arden.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>“By Jove! How awfully dark in a moment!” said Arden, +looking from the face thus suddenly overcast through the +window towards the sky.</p> + +<p>“Dark as the future we were speaking of,” said Longcluse, +with a sad smile.</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>“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—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?”</p> + +<p>“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!” said Arden.</p> + +<p>“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 <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.”</p> + +<p>“Well, I have seen you pretty often together, and you must +see there is nothing of that kind,” said Arden.</p> + +<p>“You speak quite frankly, do you? For Heaven's sake don't +spare me!” urged Longcluse.</p> + +<p>“I say exactly what I think. There can't be any such +feeling,” said Arden.</p> + +<p>Longcluse sighed, looked down thoughtfully, and then, raising +his eyes again, he said—</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>“Certainly,” answered his companion.</p> + +<p>“Does your sister like anyone in particular—is she attached +to anyone—are her affections quite disengaged?”</p> + +<p>“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.</p> + +<p>“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?”</p> + +<p>“I give you my honour I have not the least idea.”</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>“Surely you can't mean Vivian Darnley?” exclaimed Richard +Arden.</p> + +<p>“I do. I mean no other.”</p> + +<p>“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,” 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.”</p> + +<p>Here was another pause. Longcluse was again thoughtful.</p> + +<p>“May I ask one other question, which I think you will have +no difficulty in answering?” said he.</p> + +<p>“What you please, dear Longcluse; you may command me.”</p> + +<p>“Only this, how do you think Sir Reginald would receive +me?”</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>“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!”</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>“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.</p> + +<p>Longcluse smiled.</p> + +<p>“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!”</p> + +<p>At the door there was another parting.</p> + +<p>“There's a long dull day before me—say, rather, <em>night</em>; +<a class="pagenum" name="Page_37" title="37"> </a> +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!”</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>“Where are the boots that I wore yesterday?” +asked he.</p> + +<p>“If you please, Sir,” said Mr. Franklin, “the man called this +morning for the right boot of that pair.”</p> + +<p>“What man?” asked Mr. Longcluse, rather grimly.</p> + +<p>“Mr. Armagnac's man, Sir.”</p> + +<p>“Did you desire him to call for it?” asked Mr. Longcluse.</p> + +<p>“No, Sir. I thought you must have told some one else to +order him to send for it,” said Franklin.</p> + +<p>“<em>I?</em> You ought to know I leave those things to <em>you</em>,” 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?”</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>“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.”</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 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.</p> + +<p><a class="pagenum" name="Page_39" title="39"> </a>“What's all this about my boot?” demanded Mr. Longcluse, +peremptorily. “<em>Who</em> has got it?”</p> + +<p>“A man called for it this morning, Sir.”</p> + +<p>“What man?”</p> + +<p>“I think he said he came from Mr. Armagnac's, Sir.”</p> + +<p>“You <em>think</em>. Say what you <em>know</em>, Sir. What <em>did</em> he say?” +said Mr. Longcluse, looking dangerous.</p> + +<p>“Well, Sir,” said the man, mending his case, “he did say, +Sir, he came from Mr. Armagnac's, and wanted the right +boot.”</p> + +<p>“What right boot?—<em>any</em> right boot?”</p> + +<p>“No, Sir, please; the right boot of the pair you wore last +night,” answered the servant.</p> + +<p>“And <em>you</em> gave it to him?”</p> + +<p>“Yes, Sir, 'twas me,” answered Charles.</p> + +<p>“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; <em>you</em> shall bring it back, you +understand? And you had better make haste.”</p> + +<p>“I made bold, Sir,” said Mr. Franklin, “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.”</p> + +<p>“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.”</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>“The right foot? By Jove! it may not be the one.”</p> + +<p>The boot that was left was already in his hand. He was +examining it curiously.</p> + +<p>“Ay, by heaven! The right <em>was</em> the boot! What's the +meaning of this? Conspiracy? I should not wonder.”</p> + +<p>He examined it carefully again, and flung it into its corner +with violence.</p> + +<p>“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.”</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—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—face and figure all white.</p> + +<p>“Well, what about it? Where's the boot?” he demanded, +sharply.</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>“<ins title="Oh">Oh,</ins> oh! very good. And now, Sir,” he said, in rising +fury, turning upon Charles, “what have <em>you</em> got to say for +yourself?”</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>“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.”</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:—</p> + +<p>“See, Charles, it was you who saw and spoke with that man?” +said Longcluse.</p> + +<p>“Yes, Sir.”</p> + +<p>“Should you know him again?”</p> + +<p>“Yes, Sir, I think I should.”</p> + +<p>“What kind of man was he?”</p> + +<p>“A very common person, Sir.”</p> + +<p>“Was he tall or short? What sort of figure?”</p> + +<p>“Tall, Sir.”</p> + +<p>“Go on; what more? Describe him.”</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>“Describe his face,” said Longcluse.</p> + +<p>“Nothing very particular, Sir; a shabby sort of face—a bad +colour.”</p> + +<p>“How?”</p> + +<p><a class="pagenum" name="Page_41" title="41"> </a>“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.”</p> + +<p>“How old?”</p> + +<p>“He might be nigh fifty, Sir.”</p> + +<p>“Ha, ha! very good. How was he dressed?”</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>“And he asked for the right boot?” asked Mr. Longcluse.</p> + +<p>“Yes, Sir.”</p> + +<p>“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?”</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>“He asked for the boot I wore yesterday, or last night—which +did he say?” asked Mr. Longcluse.</p> + +<p>“I think it was last night he said, Sir,” answered Charles.</p> + +<p>“Try to recollect yourself. Can't you be certain? Which +was it?”</p> + +<p>“I think it was <em>last night</em>, Sir, he said.”</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>“I recollect it perfectly well, Sir.”</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>“Yes, Sir,” answered Charles.</p> + +<p>“I sha'n't want you, Franklin; let some one call a cab.”</p> + +<p>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. <em>I</em> 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.”</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, “What +stock is up, and what down, on a sudden, to-day, that Longcluse +looks so radiant?”</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—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.”</p> + +<p>“Yes, a man like that had been dismissed from the detective +department within the last fortnight.”</p> + +<p>“What was his name?” Mr. Longcluse asked.</p> + +<p>“Paul Davies, Sir.”</p> + +<p>“If it should turn out to be the same, I may have a more +serious charge to bring against him,” said Mr. Longcluse.</p> + +<p>“Do you wish to go before his worship, and give an information, +Sir?” urged the officer, invitingly.</p> + +<p>“Not quite ripe for that yet,” said Mr. Longcluse, “but it is +likely very soon.”</p> + +<p>“And what might be the nature of the more serious charge, +Sir?” inquired the officer, insinuatingly.</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>“Connecting him with the murder?” whispered the man, +something like reverence mingling with his curiosity, as he discovered +the interesting character of his interrogator.</p> + +<p>“I can only say possibly connecting him in some way with it. +Where does the man live?”</p> + +<p><a class="pagenum" name="Page_44" title="44"> </a>“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?”</p> + +<p>“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?”</p> + +<p>“Quite. I want a servant of mine to have a sight of him,” +said Longcluse.</p> + +<p>“If you like, Sir, to leave your address and a stamp, we'll +send you the information by post, and save you calling here.”</p> + +<p>“Thanks, yes, I'll do that.”</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—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 +“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.</p> + +<p>“It's a runaway. Them horses has took head. What do +you think, Thomas?” he asked of the old waiter who stood +beside him.</p> + +<p>“No. See, the post-boys is whipping the hosses. No, Sir, +it's a gallop, but no runaway.”</p> + +<p>“There's luggage a' top?” said the innkeeper.</p> + +<p><a class="pagenum" name="Page_45" title="45"> </a>“Yes, Sir, there's something,” answered Tom.</p> + +<p>“I don't see nothing a-followin' them,” said Mr. Truelock, +shading his eyes with his hand as he gazed.</p> + +<p>“No—there <em>is</em> nothing,” said Tom.</p> + +<p>“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.</p> + +<p>“Lawk! <em>there</em> was a jerk. They <em>was</em> nigh over at the finger-post +turn,” 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 “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.</p> + +<p>“See to the gentleman, will ye?” 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>“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.”</p> + +<p>“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 <em>is</em> +deceased.”</p> + +<p>“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.</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 “Royal +<a class="pagenum" name="Page_46" title="46"> </a> +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.</p> + +<p>“He'll not be dead yet,” repeated the postilion dogmatically.</p> + +<p>“What happened him?” asked Mr. Truelock.</p> + +<p>“I don't know,” answered the post-boy.</p> + +<p>“Then how can you say whether he be dead or no?” demanded +the innkeeper.</p> + +<p>“Fetch me a pint of half-and-half,” said the dismounted post-boy, +aside, to one of the “Royal Oak” people at his elbow.</p> + +<p>“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.’”</p> + +<p>By this time their heads were in the carriage again.</p> + +<p>“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.”</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 “Royal Oak.”</p> + +<p>“Who is he?” inquired Mr. Truelock.</p> + +<p>“I don't know,” answered the postilion.</p> + +<p>“What's his name?”</p> + +<p>“Don't know that, neither.”</p> + +<p>“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.</p> + +<p>“Nothing on that but ‘R. A.,’” answered the man, who had +examined it half an hour before, with the same object.</p> + +<p>“Royal Artillery, eh?”</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>“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.”</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>“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.”</p> + +<p>“Is there no letter in his pockets?”</p> + +<p>“Not one,” 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: “My dearest +papa.”</p> + +<p>“We are all right, by Jove, we're in luck!”</p> + +<p>“How does she sign herself?” said the doctor.</p> + +<p>“‘Alice Arden,’ and she dates from 8, Chester Terrace,” +answered the clergyman.</p> + +<p>“We'll telegraph forthwith,” said the doctor. “It had best be +in your name—the clergyman, you know—to a young lady.”</p> + +<p>So together they composed the telegram.</p> + +<p>“Shall it be <em>ill</em> simply, or <em>dangerously</em> ill?” inquired the +clergyman.</p> + +<p>“Dangerously,” said the doctor.</p> + +<p>“But <em>dangerously</em> may terrify her.”</p> + +<p>“And if we say only <em>ill</em>, she mayn't come at all,” 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—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.</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>“I wonder why it is that sunset, which is so beautiful, makes +us all sad!”</p> + +<p>“It never made me sad,” said good Lady May Penrose, +comfortably. “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—it must be cheerful. Don't you think so, Alice?”</p> + +<p>Alice was, perhaps, thinking of something quite different, for +rather listlessly, and without a change of features, she said, “Oh, +yes, very.”</p> + +<p><a class="pagenum" name="Page_49" title="49"> </a>“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.”</p> + +<p>Thus rebuked by Lady Penrose, and deserted by Alice, +Darnley laughed and said—</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>“Some very remote cousinship, of which I am very proud,” +answered the young man gaily, with a glance at Alice.</p> + +<p>“And what is that—what about uncle David?” inquired the +young lady, with animation.</p> + +<p>“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?”</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>“You know him, <ins title="Mr">Mr.</ins> Darnley?” inquired Lady May.</p> + +<p>“By Jove, I do!”</p> + +<p>“And like him?”</p> + +<p>“No one on earth has better reason to like him,” answered +the young man warmly—“he has been my best friend on +earth.”</p> + +<p>“It is pleasant to know two people who are not ashamed to +be grateful,” 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>“And what is the story about Uncle David?” asked Alice +again.</p> + +<p><a class="pagenum" name="Page_50" title="50"> </a>“Well, what will you say—and you, Mr. Darnley, if it should +be a story about a young lady?”</p> + +<p>“Do you mean that Uncle David is going to marry? I think +it would be an awful pity!” exclaimed Alice.</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>“And who is the young lady?” asked Alice.</p> + +<p>“Did you ever happen to meet anywhere a Miss Grace +Maubray?”</p> + +<p>“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 +<em>always</em>. And is she really the young lady?”</p> + +<p>“Yes, and<span style="white-space: nowrap;">——</span> Dear me! Mr. Darnley, I'm afraid my +story has alarmed you.”</p> + +<p>“Why should it?” laughed Vivian Darnley, partly to <ins title="cover">cover,</ins> +perhaps, a little confusion.</p> + +<p>“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?”</p> + +<p>Alice laughed, and Darnley laughed; but he was embarrassed.</p> + +<p>“And Colonel Maubray, is he still living?” asked Alice.</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>“I should not wonder,” said Alice smiling—and then became +silent.</p> + +<p>“Do you know the young lady, this fortunate Miss Maubray?” +said Lady May, turning to Vivian Darnley again.</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p><a class="pagenum" name="Page_51" title="51"> </a>“Well, I know her a little, also,” said Lady May. “I thought +her pretty—and she sings a little, and she's clever.”</p> + +<p>“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 <i lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">dot</i>.”</p> + +<p>“What benevolent people! <em>You</em> don't object, I dare say, +Vivian.”</p> + +<p>“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.”</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>“I saw Longcluse this morning. He has not been here, has +he?” he added, as a little silence threatened the conversation.</p> + +<p>“No, he has not turned up. And what a charming person he +is!” exclaimed Lady May.</p> + +<p>“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, <em>chess</em>, 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!”</p> + +<p>“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.</p> + +<p>“An Admirable Crichton!” murmured Vivian Darnley, with +a rather hackneyed sneer. “Do you like his style of—<em>beauty</em>, I +suppose I should call it? It has the merit of being very uncommon, +at least, don't you think?”</p> + +<p>“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.</p> + +<p>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 +<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—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?</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>“He's not that,” said Alice. “No one could be ugly with so +much animation and so much expression.”</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>“So he would be,” said Richard Arden. “It would upset +him for a week, I have no doubt.”</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—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>“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.”</p> + +<p>“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.</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>“Can there be a better introduction than a kindness?” asked +Alice.</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>“I really can't see. Richard need not have taken his horse +if he had not liked,” she answered.</p> + +<p>“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?”</p> + +<p>“I really don't recollect; but does it very much matter?”</p> + +<p>“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 <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.”</p> + +<p>“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.</p> + +<p>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 +<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>“That was so kind of you, Mr. Longcluse! You have had a +great deal of trouble. It <em>is</em> such an interesting story!” 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>“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.”</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>“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?”</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>“And I think, were I he, I could altogether die to earn one +such sentence, so spoken,” said Mr. Longcluse.</p> + +<p>“Could you lend it to me for a very few days?” asked the +young lady.</p> + +<p>“As many—as long as you please. I am only too happy.”</p> + +<p>“I should so like to make a large drawing of this in chalks!” +said Alice, still gazing on the miniature.</p> + +<p>“You draw so beautifully in chalks! Your style is not often +found here—your colouring is so fine.”</p> + +<p>“Do you really think so?”</p> + +<p><a class="pagenum" name="Page_56" title="56"> </a>“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.</p> + +<p>“Yes, he was, and we got on very well together. Some of +his young lady pupils were very much afraid of him.”</p> + +<p>“Your poetry is fired by that picture, Miss Arden. Your +copy will be a finer thing than the original,” said he.</p> + +<p>“I shall aim only at making it a faithful copy; and if I can +accomplish anything like that, I shall be only too glad.”</p> + +<p>“I hope you will allow me to see it?” pleaded Longcluse.</p> + +<p>“Oh, certainly,” she laughed. “Only I'm a little afraid of +you, Mr. Longcluse.”</p> + +<p>“What can you mean, Miss Arden?”</p> + +<p>“I mean, you are so good a critic in art, every one says, that +I really <em>am</em> afraid of you,” answered the young lady, laughing.</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>“Well, whether you mean it or not, I <em>am</em> 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.”</p> + +<p>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—</p> + +<p>“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?”</p> + +<p>“Stentoroni?”</p> + +<p>“Yes; the newspapers and critics promise wonders.”</p> + +<p>“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 +<a class="pagenum" name="Page_57" title="57"> </a> +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.”</p> + +<p>“And now, Mr. Longcluse, I shall try your good-nature.”</p> + +<p>“How?”</p> + +<p>“I am going to make Lady May ask you to sing a song.”</p> + +<p>“Pray don't.”</p> + +<p>“Why not?”</p> + +<p>“I should so much rather you asked me yourself.”</p> + +<p>“That's very good of you; then I certainly shall. I <em>do</em> ask +you.”</p> + +<p>“And I instantly obey. And what shall the song be?” asked +he, approaching the piano, to which she also walked.</p> + +<p>“Oh, that ghostly one that I liked so much when you sang it +here about a week ago,” she answered.</p> + +<p>“I know it—yes, with pleasure.” And he sat down at the +piano, and in a clear, rich baritone, sang the following odd +song:—</p> + +<div class="poetry"> +<div class="stanza"> +<div class="line">“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">‘I'm here, my love,’ says he.<br/></div> +<div class="line indent1">‘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">“‘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">“‘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.’”<br/></div> +</div> +</div> + +<p>“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?”</p> + +<p><a class="pagenum" name="Page_58" title="58"> </a>“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—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?”</p> + +<p>“Any one, if you desire it, may choose anything I possess, +and have it,” 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>“Your servant is waiting, Sir, please, for orders in the awl,” +murmured the man.</p> + +<p>“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.</p> + +<p>“Pray read your note, Mr. Longcluse, and don't mind us,” +said Lady May.</p> + +<p>“Thank you very much. I think I know what this is. I gave +some evidence to-day at an inquest,” began Mr. Longcluse.</p> + +<p>“That wretched Frenchman,” interposed Lady May, +“Monsieur Lebrun or<span style="white-space: nowrap;">——</span>”</p> + +<p>“Lebas,” said Vivian Darnley.</p> + +<p>“Yes, so it was, Lebas; what a frightful thing that was!” +continued Lady May, who was always well up in the day's +horrors.</p> + +<p>“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.</p> + +<p>“And you actually gave evidence, Mr. Longcluse?” said +Lady May.</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>“Then you saw something occur that excited your suspicions?” +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>“And this note, I daresay, is the one they promised to send +me, telling the result of their inquiries,” he added.</p> + +<p>“Pray open it and see,” 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>“Well, Mr. Longcluse, a long note it seems to have been,” +said Lady May, curiously.</p> + +<p>“Not very long, but what is as bad, very illegible,” said Mr. +Longcluse gaily.</p> + +<p>“And what about the man—the person the police were to +have inquired after?” she persisted.</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>“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.</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>“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.</p> + +<p>“I'm afraid papa is very ill,” she whispered, handing the +paper, which trembled very much in her hand, to Lady May.</p> + +<p>“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?”</p> + +<p>“I'll go, of course,” said Alice.</p> + +<p><a class="pagenum" name="Page_60" title="60"> </a>“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.”</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—“It is a post-town—only thirty-six miles +from London,” said Mr. Darnley.</p> + +<p>“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 <ins title="he ll">he'll</ins> arrange +everything; and how soon do you wish to go?”</p> + +<p>“Immediately, instantly—thanks, darling. I'm <em>so</em> much +obliged!”</p> + +<p>“Will your brother go with you?”</p> + +<p>“No, dear. Papa, you know, has not forgiven him, and it +is, I think, two years since they met. It would only agitate +him.”</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, “If anything should +go <em>very</em> wrong, be sure to telegraph for me. Here is my +address.”</p> + +<p>“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.”</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—</p> + +<p>“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?”</p> + +<p>“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!”</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 “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.</p> + +<p>“I sha'n't go to the opera to-night; it is out of the +question,” said she. “But <em>you</em> shall. You go to my box, +you know; Jephson will put you in there.”</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—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.</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—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!</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—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—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!</p> + +<p>“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—<em>tell</em> me you do!”</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 “Royal Oak.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, Louisa! Here it is,” 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>“Don't knock—only ring the bell. He may be asleep, God +grant!” 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—“An old gentlemen +has been ill here, and a telegram was sent; is he—how +is he?”</p> + +<p>“He's better, Ma'am,” said the man.</p> + +<p>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.</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 “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 <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 “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 +<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>“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—no more than I do.”</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 “Royal Oak” 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 +“swell” 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—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.</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—and perhaps, all things considered, so much the +better.</p> + +<p>“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.”</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—“Good gracious!”</p> + +<p>“Hollo! what is it?” cried the fierce, thin voice of the +baronet. “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?” 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?”</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>“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<span style="white-space: nowrap;">——</span>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p><a class="pagenum" name="Page_67" title="67"> </a>“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.</p> + +<p>“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?”</p> + +<p>“Yes, Sir—close by.”</p> + +<p>“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!”</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—<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 “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.</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—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,</p> + +<p>“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.”</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;">——</span>'s, and his afternoon whist at W<span style="white-space: nowrap;">——</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>“You know that man?” said Sir Reginald sharply, as he saw +Mr. Longcluse raise his hat to her as they passed.</p> + +<p>“Yes, I've met him pretty often at Lady May's.”</p> + +<p>“H'm! I had not an idea that anyone knew him. He's a +man who might be of use to one.”</p> + +<p>Here followed a silence.</p> + +<p>“I thought, papa, you wished to go direct to Mortlake, and I +don't think this is the way,” suggested Alice.</p> + +<p>“Eh? heigho! You're right, child; upon my life, I was not +<a class="pagenum" name="Page_70" title="70"> </a> +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.</p> + +<p>“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.”</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 “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.</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p><a class="pagenum" name="Page_71" title="71"> </a>Sir Reginald wrote his note, talking at intervals.</p> + +<p>“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!”</p> + +<p>“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.</p> + +<p>“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!”</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:—</p> + +<p>“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 +<a class="pagenum" name="Page_73" title="73"> </a> +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 +<ins title="decased">deceased</ins>; the particulars were as follows:—”</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—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.</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—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, “put on his considering cap.”</p> + +<p>“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 <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.”</p> + +<p>He was looking with some anxiety in the triangular fragment +of looking-glass—balanced on a nail in the window-case—at his +features.</p> + +<p>“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.”</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>“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.”</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, “The Ratcatcher's Daughter,” he thought rather +sweetly—so well, indeed, that he listened for two whole verses—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—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.</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, “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.</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>“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.”</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>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.</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>“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.”</p> + +<p>He poked open the door of his sitting-room with the point of +his walking-stick.</p> + +<p>“Nothing ready, I dare swear,” 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>“Ha! Crozier, at last! Here, get off this coat, and these +mufflers, and<span style="white-space: nowrap;">——</span> I was d<span style="white-space: nowrap;">——</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—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!”</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—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!</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 “making her book” rather prematurely in dozens of pairs +of gloves, for the Derby. Lord Wynderbroke was deep in it. +So was Vivian Darnley.</p> + +<p>“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.</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>“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.</p> + +<p>“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.</p> + +<p>“I quite forgot. He was to see papa this evening. They +wanted to talk over something together.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, I see!” 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—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—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.</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>“I should have been here before, Sir, but your letter did not +reach me until an hour ago,” said Richard Arden.</p> + +<p>“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.”</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>“You will take something, Dick, won't you?”</p> + +<p>“Nothing, Sir, thanks.”</p> + +<p>Sir Reginald was stealthily reading his face. At last he began +circuitously—</p> + +<p>“I've a little bit of news to tell you about Alice. How long +shall I allow you to guess what it is?”</p> + +<p><a class="pagenum" name="Page_80" title="80"> </a>“I'm the worst guesser in the world—pray don't wait for me, +Sir.”</p> + +<p>“Well, I have in my desk there—would you mind putting it +on the table here?—a letter from Wynderbroke. You know +him?”</p> + +<p>“Yes, a little.”</p> + +<p>“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.”</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>“Well, Richard, what do you think?”</p> + +<p>“There can be but one opinion about it. Nothing can be more +handsome. Everything suitable. I only hope that Alice will +not be foolish.”</p> + +<p>“She sha'n't be that, I'll take care,” said the old man, locking +down his desk again upon the letter.</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>“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?”</p> + +<p>“Not that I know of,” said Richard.</p> + +<p>“You'll find it will all be right—it <em>will</em>—all right. It <em>shall</em> +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.</p> + +<p>“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 <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—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 +<a class="pagenum" name="Page_81" title="81"> </a> +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!”</p> + +<p>“I am grieved, Sir, to think you suffer so much.”</p> + +<p>“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 <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—I'll kneel +to you. I'll go on my knees to you.”</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>“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.”</p> + +<p>“You have been with the Jews!” cried the old man, jumping +to his feet. “You have been dealing, by way of <i lang="la" xml:lang="la">post obit</i>, +with my estate!”</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>“But what could I do, Sir? I had no other resource. I +was forbidden your house; I had no money.”</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>“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 +<em>would</em>—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!”</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. “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 <ins title="ever?">ever!</ins>”</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—loyal, +and somewhat rustic—and, certainly, had the baronet +been less in want of money, not exactly the servant he would +have chosen.</p> + +<p>“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.”</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—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>“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.”</p> + +<p>“Sit ye down, Mrs. Tansey, Ma'am; you should take just a +thimbleful of something. What has frightened <ins title="you!">you?</ins>”</p> + +<p>“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!”</p> + +<p>The old woman clasped her fingers over her eyes, and shook +her head slowly.</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>“So it is—and no good meeting and argufying; for Mr. +Dick will never open the estate,” remarked Mr. Crozier.</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>“He <em>may</em> 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.”</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—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>“What are you doing there?” said the horseman roughly.</p> + +<p>“Counting the stars,” answered he.</p> + +<p>Thus the signs and countersigns were exchanged, and the +stranger said—</p> + +<p>“You're alone, Paul Davies, I take it.”</p> + +<p>“No company but ourselves, mate,” answered Davies.</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>“I didn't put them there,” said Paul, a little sulkily.</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>“What's up?” asked the ex-detective.</p> + +<p>“Jest this—there's leaves enough for a bird to roost there, so +this won't do. Now, then, move on you with me.”</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>“I don't care a cuss,” said Davies. “I'm half sorry I came +a leg to meet yer.”</p> + +<p>“Growlin', eh?” said the horseman.</p> + +<p>“I wish you was as cold as me, and you'd growl a bit, maybe, +yourself,” said Paul. “I'm jolly cold.”</p> + +<p>“Cold, are ye?”</p> + +<p>“Cold as a lock-up.”</p> + +<p>“Why didn't ye fetch a line o' the old author with you?” +asked the rider—meaning brandy.</p> + +<p>“I had a pipe or two.”</p> + +<p>“Who'd a-guessed we was to have a night like this in +summer-time?”</p> + +<p>“I do believe it freezes all the year round in this queer +place.”</p> + +<p>“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.</p> + +<p>“Drink what's there, mate. D'ye like it?”</p> + +<p>“It ain't to be by no means sneezed at,” 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>“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.”</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>“I don't mind if I have another pull,” said Paul, replenishing +the goblet that fitted over the bottom of the flask.</p> + +<p>“Fill it again, and no heel-taps,” 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>“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.</p> + +<p>“I can't tumble to a right guess what you means,” said Mr. +Davies.</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>“'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?” sneered Paul Davies.</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>“A good many rows o' pins, I'm thinkin',” sneered Mr. +Davies.</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>“So do I, mate,” said Paul Davies, who could play at brag +as well as his neighbour.</p> + +<p>“I'm on another lay, a safer one by a long sight. My maxim +is the same as yours, ‘Grab all you can;’ but <em>I</em> do it safe, d'ye +see? You are in a fair way to end your days on the twister.”</p> + +<p>“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?”</p> + +<p>“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.</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>“A queer gill, mayhap. I think I know you,” said Mr. +Davies, archly.</p> + +<p>“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.</p> + +<p>“Then I take you for Mr. Longcluse,” said Paul Davies, with +a wag of his head.</p> + +<p>“For Mr. Longcluse!” echoed the horseman, with a boisterous +laugh. “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!”</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>“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 +<a class="pagenum" name="Page_89" title="89"> </a> +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.”</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>“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 <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?”</p> + +<p>“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?”</p> + +<p><a class="pagenum" name="Page_90" title="90"> </a>“That's true, you can't tell, mate.”</p> + +<p>“And what do I know about you? What's your name?” +pursued Paul Davies.</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>“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?”</p> + +<p>“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.</p> + +<p>“Well, what's up now?—what's the hurry?” demanded Mr. +Davies.</p> + +<p>“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.</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">“If</span> 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.”</p> + +<p>“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?”</p> + +<p>“Well, supposin' I say ay, how soon will it be settled?” said +Paul Davies, beginning to think better of it.</p> + +<p>“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 <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?”</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>“What's your name?” again asked Davies, a little abruptly.</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>“Well, Tom, that's the figure,” said Davies.</p> + +<p>“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.”</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,—“Mind, Paul +Davies, I comes from no one, and I goes to no one; and I +never seed you in all my days.”</p> + +<p>“And where are you going?”</p> + +<p>“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.</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—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.</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>“Wasn't it good of her to come?” said Alice.</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>“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.</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>“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?”</p> + +<p>“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.”</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—<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>“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?”</p> + +<p>“No—Darnley,” whispered Alice; “Vivian is his Christian +name.”</p> + +<p>“Very romantic names; and, if he really means half he says, +he is a very romantic person.” She laughed.</p> + +<p>“What has he been saying?” Alice wondered. But, after +all, it was possible to be romantic on almost any subject.</p> + +<p>“And the other?”</p> + +<p>“He's a Mr. Longcluse,” answered Alice.</p> + +<p>“He's rather clever,” said the young lady, with a grave +decision that amused Alice.</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>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 <ins title="Derby,">Derby.</ins>”</p> + +<p>“I can place a drag at her disposal,” said Mr. Longcluse.</p> + +<p>“And a splendid team—I saw them,” threw in Darnley.</p> + +<p>“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?”</p> + +<p>“I'll try,” said the young lady gaily.</p> + +<p>“We must all set upon Lady May,” said Alice. “She is so +good-natured, she can't resist us.”</p> + +<p>“Suppose we begin now?” suggested Darnley.</p> + +<p>“Hadn't we better wait till we have her quite to ourselves? +Who knows what your papa and your uncle might say?” said +<a class="pagenum" name="Page_95" title="95"> </a> +Grace Maubray, turning to Alice. “I vote for saying nothing +to them until Lady May has settled, and then they must only +submit.”</p> + +<p>“I agree with you quite,” said Alice laughing.</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, anything might be done in ten days,” said Grace. “I'm +sorry it is so far away.”</p> + +<p>“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.”</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>“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.”</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>“I believe,” said Mr. Longcluse, with a <ins title="laugh.">laugh,</ins> “I +am growing metaphysical.”</p> + +<p>“Well, shall I confess, Mr. Longcluse, you do sometimes say +things that are, I fear, a little too wise for my poor comprehension?”</p> + +<p>“I don't express them; it is my fault,” he answered, in a very +low tone. “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—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.”</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—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>“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!”</p> + +<p>From the other side her uncle said very softly—“What do +you think of my ward, Grace Maubray?”</p> + +<p>“Oughtn't I to ask, rather, what you think of her?” she +laughed archly.</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>“Who?” asked Alice, although she knew very well whom he +meant.</p> + +<p>“I mean that pretty creature over there, Grace Maubray, and +Vivian Darnley,” 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>“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.”</p> + +<p>“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.”</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>“Your neighbour who is talking to Lady May is a Mr. +Longcluse?”</p> + +<p>“Yes.”</p> + +<p>“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?”</p> + +<p>“Yes, a little, perhaps. Don't <ins title="you.">you?</ins>”</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>“My brother Dick told me that Mr. Longcluse made a speech +there.”</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>“How dreadful!” said Alice, and Uncle David laughed a +little at her horror.</p> + +<p>“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.</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>“Command! I thought the prayer-book said something +about obeying, on the contrary,” said Uncle David.</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>“Nevertheless, when the right man comes, he need but +beckon with his finger, and away you go, Miss Alice, and +undertake it all.”</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p><a class="pagenum" name="Page_99" title="99"> </a>“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.”</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>“Does she? And why?”</p> + +<p>“Well, they say she would not object to be a little more +nearly related to you than she is.”</p> + +<p>“You can't mean papa—or <em>yourself</em>!”</p> + +<p>“Oh, dear, no!” he answered, laughing. “I mean that she +misses Dick a good deal.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, dear! uncle, you can't be serious!”</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>“It is a great pity,” said she.</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>“Ungallant old man! I really believe she is.”</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>“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,” said David +Arden, addressing Mr. Longcluse.</p> + +<p>“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.</p> + +<p>“He was robbed, too, wasn't he?” croaked Sir Reginald, +who was growing tired; and with his fatigue came evidences of +his temper.</p> + +<p>“Oh, yes,” said David; “nothing left in his pockets.”</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>“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 <em>self</em>—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 +<em>worshipping</em> 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 <em>that</em>. 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.”</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>“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.”</p> + +<p>“But is it so certain that the man was robbed?” said Vivian +Darnley.</p> + +<p>“Everything he had about him was taken,” said Mr. Longcluse.</p> + +<p>“But they pretend to rob men sometimes, when they murder +them, only to conceal the real motive,” persisted Vivian +Darnley.</p> + +<p>“Yes, that's quite true; but then there must be <em>some</em> 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.”</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>“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 +<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.”</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>“No more, thanks.”</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>“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.</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>“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.”</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—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>“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?”</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>“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?”</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>“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.”</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>“How do you do, Martha?” said he, striding cheerily into +the room.</p> + +<p>“Ah! Master David? So it is, sure!”</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>“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>,” she answered dolorously.</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>“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 <em>have</em> 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.</p> + +<p>“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?”</p> + +<p>“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.</p> + +<p>“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?”</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>“I know, Martha, you liked poor Harry well,” said David +Arden, not with a smile, but with a very sad countenance.</p> + +<p>“That I did,” said Mrs. Tansey.</p> + +<p>“And I think you like me, Martha?”</p> + +<p>“Ye're not far wrong there, Master David.”</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>“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. “<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'?”</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>“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?”</p> + +<p>“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; ‘and, +by Jove!’ said he, ‘<em>I</em> didn't either—Martha stared so.’”</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>“First let me hear your recollection of what happened,” said +David Arden.</p> + +<p>“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.”</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">“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,” 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?”</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>“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?”</p> + +<p>“I like the fire, Martha, and I like the moon, and I like your +company best of all.”</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>“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 <em>that</em> first; and then I want to ask +you for some particular information, which I am sure you can +give me.”</p> + +<p>“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?”</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>“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.”</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>“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?”</p> + +<p>“To be sure I do,” acquiesced David Arden.</p> + +<p>“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, +<a class="pagenum" name="Page_110" title="110"> </a> +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—<em>you'll</em> 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.”</p> + +<p>“You saw him distinctly, then?” said David.</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>“That was toward the Islington side?”</p> + +<p>“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'.”</p> + +<p>“Did you see the same man again that night?” asked +David.</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>“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,” said Mr. Arden.</p> + +<p>“'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 +<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.”</p> + +<p>“You saw that face distinctly?” asked David Arden.</p> + +<p>“As clear as yours this minute.”</p> + +<p>“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.</p> + +<p>“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?”</p> + +<p>“You are a good creature, Martha. I am sorry to pain +you, but I pain myself, and you know why I ask these +questions.”</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>“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?”</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p><a class="pagenum" name="Page_113" title="113"> </a>“How was that, Martha? Did he resemble the other man—the +man who was aiding?”</p> + +<p>“That fellow was hanged, ye'll mind, Master David.”</p> + +<p>“Yes, but a likeness might have struck and startled you.”</p> + +<p>“No, Sir—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,” 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.”</p> + +<p>“Do you think there was another man by, besides the two +villains in the gig?” suggested David Arden.</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>“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—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.</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>“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.”</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>“Was the poor girl fool enough to accept his invitation?” +inquired Miss Maubray.</p> + +<p>“That I really can't say,” laughed Mr. Longcluse.</p> + +<p>“Yes, indeed, poor thing! I so hope she didn't,” said Lady +May.</p> + +<p>“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<span style="white-space: nowrap;">——</span>”</p> + +<p>“Oh, dear Reginald!” exclaimed Lady May.</p> + +<p>“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?”</p> + +<p>And Sir Reginald closed his eyes again.</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>“Shall I tell that to Sir Reginald?—it would amuse him,” +inquired Darnley.</p> + +<p>“Not as my remark; but I make you a present of it.”</p> + +<p><a class="pagenum" name="Page_116" title="116"> </a>“Thanks; but that, even with your permission, would be a +plagiarism, and robbing you of his applause.”</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>“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?”</p> + +<p>“A demon, surely,” answered Longcluse, “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, ‘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.”</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>“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.”</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—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—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.</p> + +<p>“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! <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—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.’”</p> + +<p>Uncle David's carriage now drove by.</p> + +<p>“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!”</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—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.</p> + +<p>“Oh!—Mr. Longcluse?” exclaimed David Arden, coming +suddenly to a halt.</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>“So you did; it is waiting near the gate for me. Can I give +you a seat into town?”</p> + +<p>“Thanks,” said Longcluse, smiling; “mine is waiting for me +a little further on.”</p> + +<p>Longcluse walked slowly on toward the gate, with David +Arden at his side.</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>“It was this wonderful moon that led me, also, into this +night-ramble on foot,” said Mr. Longcluse; “I found the +temptation absolutely irresistible.”</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—</p> + +<p>“By-the-bye, we were talking of that shocking occurrence in +the Saloon Tavern; and connected with it, I have had two +threatening letters.”</p> + +<p>“Indeed!” said David Arden.</p> + +<p>“Fact, I assure you,” 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>“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.”</p> + +<p>“Certainly,” said David, “you have a right to your own +terms.”</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>“<span class="small-caps">Sir</span>,—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.”</p> +</blockquote> + +<p>“That's a cool letter, upon my word,” said David Arden. +“Have you an idea who wrote it?”</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>David Arden's curiosity was piqued. He took the last note +and read as follows:—</p> + +<blockquote> +<p>“<span class="small-caps">Sir</span>,—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;">“I remain, Sir, Your obedient servent,</span><br/> +“<span class="small-caps">Paul Davies</span>.</p> + +<p>“No. 2 Rosemary Court.”</p> +</blockquote> + +<p>“Well, that's pretty frank,” said Longcluse, observing that +he had read to the end.</p> + +<p>“Extremely. What do you suppose his object to be—to +extort money?”</p> + +<p>“Possibly; but he may have another object. In any case, he +wants to make money by this move.”</p> + +<p>“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,” said David Arden, +with his eye upon Mr. Longcluse.</p> + +<p>“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.</p> + +<p>“Really! believes that you committed the murder?” +said Uncle David, again coming to a halt and looking full at +him.</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>“How? Why don't you arrest him?” 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,—</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, really!”</p> + +<p>“Yes, I was clear I ought to meet him, but I would consent +to nothing with an air of concealment.”</p> + +<p>“I think you were right, Sir.”</p> + +<p><a class="pagenum" name="Page_123" title="123"> </a>“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.”</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>“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.”</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—</p> + +<p>“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>”</p> + +<p>“That's very kind—only what I should have expected, also, +from your public spirit. I'm extremely obliged.”</p> + +<p>They resumed their walk towards the gate.</p> + +<p>“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?”</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 +“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.</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—“Mr. Davies, Sir.”</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>“Sit in that chair, please,” 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>“You came here to see Mr. Longcluse?” asked David +Arden.</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>“And who am I, do you suppose?”</p> + +<p>The man, still smiling, looked at him shrewdly. “Well, I +don't know, I'm sure; I may 'a' seen you.”</p> + +<p>“Did you ever see that gentleman?” 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. “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.”</p> + +<p>“Do you know my name?” said David Arden.</p> + +<p>“Well, no, I don't at present remember.”</p> + +<p>“Do you know that gentleman's <ins title="name!">name?</ins>”</p> + +<p>“His name?”</p> + +<p>“Ay, his name.”</p> + +<p>“Well, no; I may have heard it, and I may bring it to mind, +by-and-by.”</p> + +<p>Longcluse smiled and shrugged, looking at Mr. Arden, and +he said to the man—</p> + +<p>“So you don't know <em>that</em> gentleman's name, nor mine?”</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—“No, I don't at +present. I say I don't know your names, either of you +gentlemen, and I <em>don't</em>.”</p> + +<p>The two gentlemen exchanged glances.</p> + +<p>“Is either of us as tall as Mr. Longcluse?” asked David +Arden, standing up.</p> + +<p>The man stood up also, to make his inspection.</p> + +<p>“You're both,” he said, after a pause, “much about his +height.”</p> + +<p>“Is either of us like him?”</p> + +<p><a class="pagenum" name="Page_127" title="127"> </a>“No,” answered Davies, after a pause.</p> + +<p>“Did you write these letters?” asked Mr. Longcluse laughing.</p> + +<p>“Well, I did, or I didn't, and what's that to you?”</p> + +<p>“Something, as you shall know presently.”</p> + +<p>“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.”</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>“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 <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.”</p> + +<p>“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 <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.”</p> + +<p>“And have you a case against him?”</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>“So I am; that is quite true.”</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>“This is Mr. Longcluse—I know of no other—and he resides +in this house,” said David Arden. “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.”</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>“I see what you mean,” said David Arden.</p> + +<p>“And fair enough, I think,” 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>“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.’”</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>“‘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<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>.”</p> + +<p>“But do you think you can discover the man?” asked Mr. +Arden.</p> + +<p>“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'.”</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>“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.</p> + +<p>“It is the reward he is thinking of,” said Longcluse.</p> + +<p>“Yes, he won't spare himself; you mentioned that your own +suspicions respecting him were but vague,” said David Arden.</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>“Quite right, Sir.”</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>“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—</p> + +<p>“As you say, Mr. Longcluse, courage is safety, and honesty +the best policy. Good-night, Sir.”</p> + +<p>“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 +<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.”</p> + +<p>“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?”</p> + +<p>“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—</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>“Well, Mr. Arden, I <em>am</em> very <em>much</em> 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.</p> + +<p>“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.</p> + +<p>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.</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—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.”</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>“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 <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?”</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>“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.”</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>“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—a little more yellow, perhaps. +Yes; how does it look now?—what do you think?”</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>“I'm growing so vain! you will quite spoil me, Mr. Longcluse.”</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>“I do. Beautiful, and so romantic, and full of legends! the +whole place with its belongings is a poem.”</p> + +<p>“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?”</p> + +<p>“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?”</p> + +<p>“No, I did not hear it.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, it is a very striking one, and won't take many words to +tell. Shall I tell it?”</p> + +<p>“Pray do,” 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—</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p><a class="pagenum" name="Page_135" title="135"> </a>“I don't think these phantom ladies are at all out of date,” +said Mr. Longcluse.</p> + +<p>“Well, men have grown wiser, at all events.”</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>“I have made that shadow a little more purple—do you +think it an improvement?”</p> + +<p>“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 <i lang="la" xml:lang="la">genus loci</i> is there.”</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—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.</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:—</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>“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.”</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—</p> + +<p>“Certainly, Sir.”</p> + +<p>“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?”</p> + +<p>“I do, Sir, everything.”</p> + +<p>“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 <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?”</p> + +<p>“Perfectly, Sir.”</p> + +<p>“As to Wynderbroke, the thing is settled—it is <em>there</em>.” 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?”</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>“Nothing, Sir,” said Richard, rising.</p> + +<p>“No, no; so I supposed. You may go, Sir—nothing.”</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>“So my father seems disposed to relent ever so +little—and ever so little, you know, is better than +nothing,” said Richard Arden.</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>“You are a good little soul, Alice—a dear little thing! This +is very pretty,” he said, looking at her drawing. “What is +it?”</p> + +<p>“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?”</p> + +<p>“No—I don't know—I hope not,” said Richard shortly.</p> + +<p>“Hope not! why?” said she. “I thought you liked him +extremely.”</p> + +<p>“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—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>.”</p> + +<p>“Really?”</p> + +<p>“Yes, really.”</p> + +<p>“But you used to speak so highly of him. I'm so surprised!”</p> + +<p>“I did not know half what people said of him. I've heard a +great deal since.”</p> + +<p>“But is it true?” asked Alice.</p> + +<p><a class="pagenum" name="Page_138" title="138"> </a>“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.”</p> + +<p>“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?”</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>“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. <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?”</p> + +<p>“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 <em>must</em> drop <ins title="him">him.</ins> And now, darling, good-bye.”</p> + +<p>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, +<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—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.</p> + +<p>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 +<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>“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.”</p> + +<p>Was Mr. Longcluse also a very little embarrassed as he +descanted thus on light and colour?</p> + +<p>“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.”</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 “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.</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">“I was</span> 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!”</p> + +<p>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.”</p> + +<p>“What a fib!” 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, “It is a year, Miss Arden, since I first saw you.”</p> + +<p>“Is it really? I daresay.”</p> + +<p>“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.”</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—too +precipitate and impetuous. He raised his hand entreatingly,—</p> + +<p>“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 +<a class="pagenum" name="Page_142" title="142"> </a> +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.”</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>“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!”</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>“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.</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>“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.”</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>“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.”</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>He opened a door, and looking in said—</p> + +<p>“Yes, we shall be quite to ourselves here.”</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>“And what did he say?” asked Richard.</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>“Has it? I did not mean it, I assure you,” said Richard Arden, +with a little laugh.</p> + +<p>“Oh! yes, Arden, it <em>has</em>, and you must know it, and—pardon +me—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?”</p> + +<p>“Nothing of all these, that I know of,” said Richard, with a +cold little laugh.</p> + +<p>“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.”</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>“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.”</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>“Yes, perhaps—yes, I may, I suppose I did. But don't you +see, dear Longcluse, things may come to mind, on thinking +over.”</p> + +<p>“<em>What</em> 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.</p> + +<p><a class="pagenum" name="Page_145" title="145"> </a>“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.”</p> + +<p>“Can you define them?” said Longcluse coldly.</p> + +<p>“I don't want to vex you, Longcluse, and I don't want to +quarrel.”</p> + +<p>“That's extremely kind of you.”</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>“Will you give me your reasons?”</p> + +<p>“I really don't see that I can add anything in particular to +what I have said.”</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>“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.”</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—</p> + +<p>“We disagree totally upon that point, and I rather think the +time will come when you <em>must</em> explain.”</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>“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.</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>“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.” Mr. Longcluse laughed again +icily.</p> + +<p>“And so shall I, mine,” said Arden sharply.</p> + +<p>“You have no right to treat anyone so,” said Longcluse +angrily—“as if one had broken his honour, or committed a +crime.”</p> + +<p>“A crime!” repeated Richard Arden. “Oh! <em>That</em>, indeed, +would pretty well end all relations.”</p> + +<p>“Yes, as, perhaps, you shall find,” 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>“Please, Sir, have you done with the room, Sir?” asked the +man.</p> + +<p>“Yes,” said Longcluse, and laughed again as he turned on +his heel.</p> + +<p>“Because three gentlemen want the room, if it's not engaged, +Sir. And Lord Wynderbroke is waiting for you, please, Mr. +Arden.”</p> + +<p>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 <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>“Is Miss Arden at home?”</p> + +<p>“No, Sir.”</p> + +<p>“Not at home?”</p> + +<p>“Miss Arden is gone out, Sir.”</p> + +<p>“Oh! perhaps in the garden?”</p> + +<p>“No, Sir; she has gone out, and won't be back for some +time.”</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—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!</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:—</p> + +<blockquote> +<p>“<span class="small-caps">Dear Miss Arden</span>,—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.</p> + +<p>“I have the honour to remain, dear Miss Arden, with deep compunction +and respect, but not altogether without hope in your mercy,</p> + +<p>“Yours the most unhappy and distracted man in England,</p> + +<p class="right small-caps">“Walter Longcluse.”</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—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, +“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.</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>“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.”</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—a secret which she +could not keep without a sort of understanding growing up +between them—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>“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.”</p> + +<p>“Really!” said Alice. Her large eyes looked larger as they +fixed on him.</p> + +<p>“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—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 <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.”</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>“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.”</p> + +<p>“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!”</p> + +<p>“Oh! There's worse than that,” said Richard, with a faint +sinister smile.</p> + +<p>“What?” said she, returning it with an almost frightened +gaze.</p> + +<p>“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—and +this poor girl was killed.”</p> + +<p>“Good heavens! Richard—what can you mean?”</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>“You ought to tell May Penrose,” said she, after a silence of +dismay.</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>“Well, if you think it best<span style="white-space: nowrap;">——</span>” she began.</p> + +<p>“Certainly,” said he. And a silence followed.</p> + +<p>“Here is a carriage at the door,” said Richard Arden. “Let +us dismiss Longcluse, and look a little more like ourselves.”</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>“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?”</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>“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?”</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—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—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, +<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 Crœsus, 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—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.</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—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.</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—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—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>“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?”</p> + +<p>“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?”</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>“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.</p> + +<p>Lady May answered quite promptly—</p> + +<p>“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?”</p> + +<p>“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!”</p> + +<p>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!”</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—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>“Have you seen Mr. Arden?” she inquired of him.</p> + +<p>“Yes, he's at the door, at the steps.”</p> + +<p>“Would you mind telling him kindly that I want to say a +word to him?”</p> + +<p>“Certainly, most happy,” said Longcluse, without any +distinct plan as to how he was to execute her awkward +commission.</p> + +<p>“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—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 <i>Joe Willett's</i> +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.</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>“Just like my luck!” he thought bitterly; “and if she is +gone, when shall I have an opportunity of seeing her again?”</p> + +<p>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.”</p> + +<p>To which the distracted lover made answer, “I quite agree +with you, Lady Hummington.”</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—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.</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—</p> + +<p>“I am told, Mr. Longcluse, that you are a very good +musician.”</p> + +<p>“A very indifferent performer, Lady Hummington.”</p> + +<p>“Lady May Penrose tells a very different tale.”</p> + +<p>“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 <ins title="muscian">musician</ins> having +departed, their stay in that room would not be very long.</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>“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!”</p> + +<p>“Oh! yes, I'll sing you one of those with pleasure,” 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, +“Once I Loved a Maiden Fair.” 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:—</p> + +<div class="poetry"> +<div class="stanza"> +<div class="line">“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.”<br/></div> +</div> +</div> + +<p>When he had finished the song, he said coldly, but very +distinctly, as he rose—</p> + +<p>“I like that song, there is a melancholy psychology in it. It +is a song worthy of Shakespeare himself.”</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>“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.”</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>Mr. Longcluse was talking his nonsense with the high spirits +which sometimes attend a painful excitement.</p> + +<p>“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!”</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>“I'll sit at this side, thank you; I don't want to be seen by +Mr. Bagshot.”</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>“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.”</p> + +<p>“With her brother, I fancy.”</p> + +<p>“Oh! yes, to be sure—I saw him here. I forgot. But Alice +is very independent, just now, of his protection,” and she +laughed.</p> + +<p>“How do you mean?”</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>“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.</p> + +<p>“Yes, Lord Wynderbroke. Why, haven't you heard of +that?”</p> + +<p>“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?”</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>“You know him very well, then?” said Longcluse, with an +effort to contribute his share to the talk.</p> + +<p>“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.”</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—not, perhaps, destined to be +much more happy.</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>“Had he a high nose?”</p> + +<p>“Yes, rather a thin, high nose, and his face is very brown.”</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>“And has this been going on for some time, or is it a sudden +thing?”</p> + +<p>“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?”</p> + +<p>“And I suppose there is no objection anywhere?” said +Longcluse, smiling. “It is a pity he is not a little younger, +perhaps.”</p> + +<p>“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.</p> + +<p>“No; I haven't been asked.”</p> + +<p>“Lord Wynderbroke is going.”</p> + +<p>“Oh! of course he is.”</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>So said the young lady, looking very innocent. But I think +she suspected more than she said.</p> + +<p>“No, I did not hear it,” he said carelessly; “or, if I did, I +forgot it. But do you blame the young lady?”</p> + +<p>“Blame her! not at all. Besides, I am not so sure that she +knows.”</p> + +<p><a class="pagenum" name="Page_164" title="164"> </a>“How can you think so?”</p> + +<p>“Because I think she likes quite another person.”</p> + +<p>“Really! And who is he?”</p> + +<p>“Can't you guess?”</p> + +<p>“Upon my honour, I can't.”</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, “I assure you I don't think I ever heard; I'm rather +curious to know.”</p> + +<p>“I mean Mr. Vivian Darnley.”</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>“Well, I say yes,” laughed the young lady, “and we shall +see who's right.”</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>“If Alice Arden resembles me,” said the young lady, “she +thinks there are just two things to marry for—either love or +ambition.”</p> + +<p>“You place love first, I'm glad to hear,” said Mr. Longcluse, +with a smile.</p> + +<p>“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?”</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>“Is he affectionate?”</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>“But you know him intimately; surely you must know something +of him.”</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>“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.</p> + +<p>“So they are,” she answered. “I'm so much obliged to you, +Mr. Longcluse! I think they are leaving.”</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>“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—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.</p> + +<p>“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!”</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,—</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>“Oh! tell her ladyship I am so <em>very</em> 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 +<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?”</p> + +<p>“Thanks, I came with my brother, and here is my cousin, +Mr. Darnley, who can tell me where he is.”</p> + +<p>“With a croquet party, near the little bridge. I'll be your +guide, if you'll allow me,” said Vivian Darnley eagerly.</p> + +<p>“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!”</p> + +<p>“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—and—the whole thing is ineffably provoking.”</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>“Alice,” at last he said—“Miss Arden, what have I done +that you are so changed?”</p> + +<p>“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.</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>“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?”</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p><a class="pagenum" name="Page_169" title="169"> </a>“That's a quotation from a song of Tennyson's.”</p> + +<p>“I don't know what it is from. Being melancholy myself, I +say the words because they are melancholy.”</p> + +<p>“Surely you can find some friend to console you in your +affliction.”</p> + +<p>“It is not easy to find a friend at any time, much less when +things go wrong with us.”</p> + +<p>“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. ‘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.”</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>She laughed.</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>“I remember them very kindly—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;">——</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.”</p> + +<p>“I am going also—it was so kind of her!—she asked me to +be of her party,” said Vivian Darnley.</p> + +<p>“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?”</p> + +<p>“No.”</p> + +<p>“I hardly thought he was, but I saw Grace Maubray, +and I fancied he might have come with her,” she said carelessly.</p> + +<p><a class="pagenum" name="Page_170" title="170"> </a>“Yes, she was here; she came with Lady <ins title="Tramways">Tramway</ins>. They +went away about half-an-hour ago.”</p> + +<p>So Richard joined her, and they walked to the house together, +Vivian Darnley accompanying them.</p> + +<p>“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 <i lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">tendre</i> for his sister, and did +not choose that Alice should suspect it. “Grace Maubray is a +very pretty girl.”</p> + +<p>“She may be that, though it doesn't strike me,” began +Darnley.</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>“Yes, she is very pretty,” said Alice.</p> + +<p>“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,” 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>“Ascot would have been more in <em>our</em> 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.”</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>“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?”</p> + +<p>“So it is,” said Lady May. “I thought he was in France. +He doesn't see us, I think.”</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>“What a fright that man is!” said Lord Wynderbroke.</p> + +<p>“But his team is the prettiest in England, except Longcluse's,” +said Darnley; “and, by Jove, there's Longcluse's drag!”</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>Longcluse was seated on the box, with a veil on, through +which his white smile was indistinctly visible.</p> + +<p>“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!”</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>“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.”</p> + +<p>“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.</p> + +<p>“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.</p> + +<p>“And the young corn, I'm glad to see, is looking very well,” +said Lord Wynderbroke, who claimed to be something of an +agriculturist.</p> + +<p><a class="pagenum" name="Page_173" title="173"> </a>“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.</p> + +<p>“Remember, Miss Arden, our wager,” said Lord Wynderbroke; +“you have backed May Queen.”</p> + +<p>“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.</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>“I sha'n't let you off, though. I'm told I'm very likely to win—isn't +it so?” she asked Vivian.</p> + +<p>“Yes, the odds are in favour of May Queen now; you might +make a capital hedge.”</p> + +<p>“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<span style="white-space: nowrap;">——</span>” 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—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.</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—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>“Young Dick Harden's 'ere,” said Mr. Levi.</p> + +<p>“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.</p> + +<p>“Walking down there,” said Levi, pointing with his thumb +over his shoulder. “I shaw him shpeak to a fellow in chocolate +and gold livery.”</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>“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', ‘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.”</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, “Twenty to five on +Dotheboys;” or, “A hundred to five against Parachute.”</p> + +<p>“In what?” called Mr. Longcluse to the latter challenge.</p> + +<p>“In assassins!” cried a voice from the crowd.</p> + +<p>Mr. Longcluse hustled his way into the thick of it.</p> + +<p>“Who said that?” 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>“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.”</p> + +<p>The bells had not yet rung out their warning, and Alice said +to Vivian,—</p> + +<p>“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?”</p> + +<p>“Do you really wish to see her again?” said Vivian. “Then +if she's to be found on earth you shall see her.”</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, “They're off, they're off!” 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. “Red's first!” “No, Blue!” “White leads!” +“Pink's first!”</p> + +<p>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!</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—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>“Miss Arden, will you forgive my venturing to restore this +glove, which I happened to see you drop as the horses +passed?”</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>“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.”</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>“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.”</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, “Please follow me;” +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 +“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.</p> + +<p>“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,” 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 +<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—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?”</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>“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.”</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—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.”</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 +“satisfaction,” 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—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, “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,—</p> + +<p>“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;">——</span>”</p> + +<p>He paused, thinking that Richard Arden was going to interpose +something, but nothing followed, and he continued,—</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>“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: <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.”</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>“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.”</p> + +<p>“Only that I know you so well,” said Lady May, “I should +tell Reginald—I mean your father—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—you saw him, of course—how miserably +ill poor Pindledykes is looking? I don't think, really, he'll +be alive in six months.”</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>“And what pleasure can a person so very ill as he looks take +in going to places like that?”</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>“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.</p> + +<p>“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!”</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>“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.”</p> + +<p>“Upon my word, you disguised this one admirably, for I mistook +you for two people on tolerably friendly terms.”</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>David nodded.</p> + +<p>“Something has gone wrong with him,” said David Arden, +“and I thought you might possibly know.”</p> + +<p>“Not I.”</p> + +<p>“I think he has lost money on the races to-day,” said David.</p> + +<p>“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>,” snarled +Sir Reginald, and ground his teeth.</p> + +<p>“If he has been gambling, he has disappointed me. He can, +however, disappoint me but once. I had better thoughts of +him.”</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>“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.”</p> + +<p>“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<span style="white-space: nowrap;">——</span>”</p> + +<p>“Oh, but, really, Miss Maubray has been quite alone,” urged +poor Lady May, very much pleased; “and you <em>must</em>, to please +<em>me</em>; I'm sure you will.”</p> + +<p>Instantly he arose.</p> + +<p>“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.” 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,—</p> + +<p>“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.”</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—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.</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>“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.”</p> + +<p>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.”</p> + +<p>“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 <i lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">de trop</i> where there is so much love-making; +and I am a very bad gooseberry.”</p> + +<p>“A very dangerous one, I should fancy. And who are all +these lovers?”</p> + +<p>“Oh, really, they are so many, it is not easy to reckon them +up. Alice Arden, for instance, had <em>two</em> lovers—Lord Wynderbroke +and Vivian Darnley.”</p> + +<p>“What, two lovers charged upon one lady? Is not that +false heraldry? And does she really care for that young +fellow, Darnley?”</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>Mr. Longcluse felt giddy and stunned; but he said, quite +gaily—</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>“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.</p> + +<p>“What is it?”</p> + +<p>“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?”</p> + +<p>“There again my information is quite behind yours. I did +not hear a word of it.”</p> + +<p>“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?”</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>“Oh? I wasn't aware. I fancied you would have heard all +from him.”</p> + +<p>“No, not a word—no.”</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>Longcluse laughed.</p> + +<p>“He has always been very particular and a little tender in +that quarter; very sweet upon Lady May, I thought,” said he.</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>“A great many people do lose money so. For the sake of +excitement, they incur losses, and risk even their utter ruin.”</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, then, there can be no difficulty now.”</p> + +<p>“No, I heard yesterday it is all settled.”</p> + +<p>“And what does Caroline Chambray say to that?”</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. “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.”</p> + +<p>In this we know he was a little unjust.</p> + +<p>“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?—</p> + +<div class="poetry"> +<div class="stanza"> +<div class="line">‘Once I held thee dear as pearl,<br/></div> +<div class="line indent1">Now I do abhor thee.’”<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>“Is Lady May Penrose at home?” he asked.</p> + +<p>“I'll inquire, Sir.”</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—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:—“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.”</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—</p> + +<p>“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<span style="white-space: nowrap;">——</span>”</p> + +<p>Poor Lady May was obviously struggling with the difficulties +of her explanation, and Mr. Longcluse relieved her.</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>“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.”</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—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:—</p> + +<p>“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 <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.”</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>“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 <ins title="passing">passing.</ins> +That sunset, that sky—how grand, and glorious, and serene—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—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?”</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—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 “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.</p> + +<p>“How d'ye do, Mr. Goldshed? Anything particular to say to +me?”</p> + +<p>“Nothing, no, Mr. Longclooshe. I sposhe you heard of that +dip in the Honduras?”</p> + +<p>“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?”</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>“Shertainly, Mr. Longclooshe, shertainly, Shir.”</p> + +<p>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.</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 “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.</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, “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.</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 “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—</p> + +<div class="poetry"> +<div class="stanza"> +<div class="line">“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”?<br/></div> +</div> +</div> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>“You lost, of course,” said Richard savagely; “you followed +my lead. Any fellow that does is sure to lose.”</p> + +<p>“Yes,” answered Vandeleur, “I did, heavily; and, I give you +my honour, I believe I'm ruined.”</p> + +<p>“How much?”</p> + +<p>“Two hundred and forty pounds!”</p> + +<p>“<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?”</p> + +<p>“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, +<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—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.”</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>So it was the old case—“<i>Enter Tilburina, mad, in white +satin; enter her maid, mad, in white linen.</i>”</p> + +<p>And Richard Arden continued—</p> + +<p>“What's your aunt good for? You <em>know</em> she will pay that; +don't let me hear a word more about it.”</p> + +<p>“And your uncle will pay yours, won't he?” said Van, with +an innocent gaze of his azure eyes.</p> + +<p>“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.”</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,—</p> + +<p>“And why don't you give your luck a chance?”</p> + +<p>“Whenever I give it a chance it hits me so devilish hard,” +replied Richard Arden.</p> + +<p>“But I mean at play to retrieve,” said Van.</p> + +<p>“So do I. So I did, last night, and lost another thousand. +It is utterly monstrous.”</p> + +<p>“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!”</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>“Nor I, a moment,” said Van.</p> + +<p><a class="pagenum" name="Page_197" title="197"> </a>“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.”</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>“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?”</p> + +<p>“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.</p> + +<p>“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 <em>might</em> 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?”</p> + +<p>“No, I'm quite sure,” said Van. “I thought so all along.”</p> + +<p>“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, ‘<i lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">Vive +mon oncle! Vive ma tante!</i>’?”</p> + +<p>So, in better spirits, Arden prepared to visit his uncle.</p> + +<p>“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 +<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.”</p> + +<p>They got in, and sitting side by side, said Vandeleur to him, +after a minute's silence,—</p> + +<p>“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?”</p> + +<p>“I've been an awful fool, Van.”</p> + +<p>“How so?”</p> + +<p>“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 <em>quite</em> impossible.”</p> + +<p>“Why should it be? He seemed to like you; and I venture +to say he'd be very glad to shake hands.”</p> + +<p>“So he might, but <em>I</em> 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.”</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">“Is</span> my uncle at home?”</p> + +<p>“No, Sir; I expect him at five. It wants +about five minutes; but he desired me to show +you, Sir, into the study.”</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—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 <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>“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?”</p> + +<p><a class="pagenum" name="Page_200" title="200"> </a>“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.</p> + +<p>“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.” 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 +<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.”</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>“Well, I think I know everything; Lord Pindledykes makes +no secret of it. He's the man, isn't he?”</p> + +<p>“Yes, Sir.”</p> + +<p>“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?”</p> + +<p>“I am afraid, uncle, it is very near that.”</p> + +<p>“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. <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.”</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>“I know what people are saying; but it isn't so immense a +sum, by any means.”</p> + +<p>“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 <em>will</em>, mind—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—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?”</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—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—</p> + +<p>“Well?”</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>“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 +<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.”</p> + +<p>“It's an awful pity you quarrelled with Longcluse!” exclaimed +Vandeleur.</p> + +<p>“That's done, and can't be undone,” said Richard Arden, +resuming his cigar.</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>“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.”</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>“Who shall I say, Sir?” 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, “funked it altogether,” and gone away. He hesitated for +a moment, and determined upon the form most likely to procure +an interview.</p> + +<p>“Say Mr. Vandeleur—a friend of Mr. Richard Arden's; you'll +remember, please—a friend of Mr. Richard Arden's.”</p> + +<p>In a moment the man returned.</p> + +<p>“Will you please to walk up-stairs?” 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 “friend” a little too +technically. He made him a ceremonious bow, in French +fashion, and placed a chair for him.</p> + +<p>“I had the pleasure of being introduced to you, Mr. Longcluse, +at Lady May Penrose's. My name is Vandeleur.”</p> + +<p>“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.”</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—</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>“I shall be happy to continue this conversation, Mr. Vandeleur, +upon one condition.”</p> + +<p>“Pray name it.”</p> + +<p>“That you report it fully to the gentleman for whom you are +so kind as to interest yourself.”</p> + +<p>“Yes, I'll certainly do that.”</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—I +can't say absolutely, it may have been fancy—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>“I shall be happy, then, to hear anything you have to say,” +said Longcluse gently.</p> + +<p>“You are very kind. I was just going to say that he has been +so unlucky—he has lost so much money<span style="white-space: nowrap;">——</span>”</p> + +<p><a class="pagenum" name="Page_207" title="207"> </a>“I had better say, I think, at once, Mr. Vandeleur, that nothing +shall tempt me to take any part in Mr. Arden's affairs.”</p> + +<p>Van's mild blue eyes looked on him wonderingly.</p> + +<p>“You could be of so much use, Mr. Longcluse!”</p> + +<p>“I don't desire to be of any.”</p> + +<p>“But—but that may be, I think it must, in consequence of +the unhappy estrangement.”</p> + +<p>He had been conning over phrases on his way, and thought +that a pretty one.</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>“I should be so extremely happy,” said Van lingeringly, “if +I were instrumental in inducing both parties to shake hands.”</p> + +<p>“I don't desire it.”</p> + +<p>“But, surely, if Richard Arden were the first to offer<span style="white-space: nowrap;">——</span>”</p> + +<p>“I should decline.”</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>“I hope I am not very impertinent,” he said, “but I can +hardly think, Mr. Longcluse, that you are quite indifferent to a +reconciliation.”</p> + +<p>“I'm not indifferent—I'm averse to it.”</p> + +<p>“I don't understand.”</p> + +<p>“Will you take some tea?”</p> + +<p>“No, thanks; I do so hope that I don't quite understand.”</p> + +<p>“That's hardly my fault; I have spoken very distinctly.”</p> + +<p>“Then what you wish to convey is<span style="white-space: nowrap;">——</span>” said Van, with his +hand now at the door.</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, perfectly—I<span style="white-space: nowrap;">——</span>”</p> + +<p>“Pray take some tea.”</p> + +<p>“And my visit is a failure. I'm awfully sorry I can't be of +any use!”</p> + +<p>“None here, Sir, to Mr. Arden—none, no more than I.”</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>“No trouble—none. I am glad everything is clear now. +Good-night.”</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, +“Good-night,” 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:—</p> + +<blockquote> +<p class="small-caps">“Sir,</p> + +<p class="larger-indent">“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,</p> + +<p class="right small-caps">“Richard Arden.</p> + +<p>“To Walter Longcluse, Esq.”</p> +</blockquote> + +<p>“Does any one wait for an answer?” he asked, still smiling.</p> + +<p>“Yes, Sir: Mr. Thompson, please, Sir.”</p> + +<p>“Very well; ask him to wait a moment,” said he, and he +wrote as follows:—</p> + +<blockquote> +<p>“Mr. Longcluse takes the liberty of returning Mr. Arden's letter, +and begs to decline any correspondence with him.”</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 “advice” +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:—</p> + +<blockquote> +<p class="small-caps">“Dear and Honoured Sir,</p> + +<p class="larger-indent">“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.”</p> +</blockquote> + +<p><a class="pagenum" name="Page_210" title="210"> </a>“H'm! what can he mean? I suppose he explains a little +further on,” mused Mr. Arden.</p> + +<blockquote> +<p>“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.”</ins></p> +</blockquote> + +<p>“Can this noble baron be a distiller of poisons?” David +Arden ruminated.</p> + +<blockquote> +<p>“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.”</p> +</blockquote> + +<p>“Ay, that's the day he named at parting. What a punctual +fellow that is!”</p> + +<blockquote> +<p>“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;">——</span>”</p> +</blockquote> + +<p>“Yes, so it may,” acquiesced Uncle David.</p> + +<blockquote> +<p class="no-indent">“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;">——</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.”</p> +</blockquote> + +<p>“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.</p> + +<blockquote> +<p>“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:—‘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.”</p> +</blockquote> + +<p>“Well, in all that, I certainly go with him. We Londoners +ought to be ashamed of ourselves.”</p> + +<blockquote> +<p>“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.”</p> +</blockquote> + +<p>“I'm not good at dealing with such people—I never was. I +must engage some long-headed fellow who understands them,” +said he.</p> + +<blockquote> +<p>“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,</p> + +<p class="right small-caps">“Christopher Blount.”</p> +</blockquote> + +<p>“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—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.”</p> + +<p>At that moment her unopened note caught his eye, as it lay +on the table. He opened it, and read these words:—</p> + +<blockquote> +<p class="small-caps">“My dearest Uncle David,</p> + +<p class="larger-indent">“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,</p> + +<p class="right small-caps">“Alice.”</p> +</blockquote> + +<p>He read this short note over again.</p> + +<p>“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.”</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>“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 +<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;">——</span> Here we are at the <ins title="hall-door">hall-door.</ins> Don't +mind knocking, ring the bell,” he said to the driver.</p> + +<p>He was himself at the threshold before the door was opened.</p> + +<p>“Can I see my brother?” he asked.</p> + +<p>“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.”</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>“Well, I sha'n't disturb him. Is Miss Alice<span style="white-space: nowrap;">——</span>”</p> + +<p>“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?”</p> + +<p>“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?”</p> + +<p>“My dear uncle, I have been so miserable!”</p> + +<p>“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.”</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—</p> + +<p>“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.”</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>“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.”</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>“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.”</p> + +<p>“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 <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—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.</p> + +<p>“Do you mean to say that he won't take your refusal?” said +her uncle, looking very angry.</p> + +<p>“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 +<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!”</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>“I would rather <em>die</em>! If this goes on, I sha'n't stay here. I'd +go and be a governess rather.”</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>“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 <em>am</em> I to do?”</p> + +<p>“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.</p> + +<p>“Oh! I beg pardon—Miss Alice, please,” she said, dropping +a curtsey and drawing back.</p> + +<p>“Don't go,” said Uncle David, “we shall want you. What's +the matter?”</p> + +<p>“Sir Reginald has been took bad with his foot again, please, +Miss.”</p> + +<p>“Nothing serious?” said Uncle David.</p> + +<p>“Only pain, please, Sir, in the same place.”</p> + +<p>“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?”</p> + +<p>“No, Sir, please; he is in his own room.”</p> + +<p>“Are the gentlemen who dined still here?”</p> + +<p>“Two left, Sir, when Sir Reginald took ill; but Lord +Wynderbroke remains.”</p> + +<p>“Oh! and where is he?”</p> + +<p>“Sir Reginald sent for him, please, Sir—just as I came up—to +his room.”</p> + +<p>“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.”</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">“Lord Wynderbroke!”</span> said Uncle David, +and bowed rather ceremoniously.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>The urbane and smiling peer looked on him for a moment—rather +darkly—with a shrewd eye; and he said, still smiling,—</p> + +<p>“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.”</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>“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?”</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>“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;">——</span>”</p> + +<p>“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—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 +<em>at all</em>, Sir, in connection with me. I take the liberty of +insisting upon that, <em>peremptorily</em>.”</p> + +<p>Mr. Arden bowed, and went on:</p> + +<p>“And when the young lady distinctly declines the honour you +propose, you persist in paying your addresses, as though her +answer meant just nothing.”</p> + +<p>“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?”</p> + +<p>Uncle David was a little fiery, and answered, holding his +head high,—</p> + +<p>“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>!” 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.</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>“You'll take something, won't you?”</p> + +<p>“Nothing, thanks,” answered David. “I came to beg a +favour.”</p> + +<p><a class="pagenum" name="Page_221" title="221"> </a>“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.”</p> + +<p>“You'll be all the better, Reginald, for this little attack; it is +so comfortably established in your foot.”</p> + +<p>“Comfortably! I wish you felt it,” said Sir Reginald, +sharply; “and it's confoundedly late. Why didn't you come +to dinner?”</p> + +<p>David laughed good-humouredly.</p> + +<p>“You forgot, I think, to ask me,” said he.</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>“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.</p> + +<p>“I'll take the best care of her. Yes, she <em>is</em> gone,” said +David.</p> + +<p>“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?”</p> + +<p>“Why, it is exactly because Lord Wynderbroke is here, that +I thought it the best time for her to make me a visit.”</p> + +<p>“I protest to Heaven, David, I believe you're deranged! Do +you the least know what you are saying?”</p> + +<p>“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—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.”</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,—</p> + +<p>“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. <i lang="it" xml:lang="it">Bravo! +bravi tutti! brava!</i> 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 <ins title="other">other end</ins> +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 <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—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<span style="white-space: nowrap;">——</span>”</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>“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.”</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>“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.”</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>“There is Dick,” she said, touching her uncle's arm, “looking +so miserable! Shall we speak to him!”</p> + +<p>“No, dear, never mind him—he's well enough.” <ins title="David,">David</ins> +Arden peeped at his nephew as they passed. “He is beginning +to take an interest in what really concerns him.”</p> + +<p>She looked at her uncle, not understanding his meaning.</p> + +<p><a class="pagenum" name="Page_225" title="225"> </a>“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.</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—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, “Levi.” Then he glanced to +the top, and read, “<span class="small-caps">Dear Sir</span>.”</p> + +<p>This easy form of address he read with proper disdain.</p> + +<blockquote> +<p class="larger-indent">“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;">“Yours truly,</span><br/> +“<span class="small-caps">Israel Levi</span>.</p> + +<p>“P.S.—In furtherance of the above, I shall be at Dignum's Divan, +Strand, from 11 <span class="small-caps all-upper">P.M.</span> to-night to 1 <span class="small-caps all-upper">A.M.</span>”</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—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.</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 “<span class="small-caps">Dignum's Divan</span>,” 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.</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, “losht sheven pound sheventeen, ash <ins title="I m">I'm</ins> a +shinner!”</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 “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,—</p> + +<p>“I think you are Mr. Levi.”</p> + +<p>“The shame,” responded Levi, still smiling; “and 'ow ish +Mr. Harden thish evening?”</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>“Every shtiver,” replied the Jew cheerfully.</p> + +<p>“I can have it all? Well, this is rather a noisy place,” +hesitated Richard Arden, looking around him.</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>“Do so,” 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 10s., for which +Mr. Levi handed him cheques of his firm for £1,000.</p> + +<p>Having exchanged these securities, Richard Arden said—</p> + +<p>“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.</p> + +<p>Levi understood him and beckoned in silence, and when they +both stood in the passage he said—</p> + +<p>“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.”</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">“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,” said Richard +Arden, in a more conciliatory tone. “Will your +instructions permit you to tell me who that person is?”</p> + +<p>“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'.”</p> + +<p>“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?”</p> + +<p>“I think the pershon as makesh the advanshe is a bit of a +shwell. There, now, that'sh enough.”</p> + +<p>“But I said a <em>gentleman</em>,” persisted Arden.</p> + +<p>“You mean to ask, hashn't a lady got nothing to do with it?”</p> + +<p>“Well, suppose I do?”</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>“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.”</p> + +<p>“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 <em>are</em> ladies, and +some gentlemen, and I have a right to know to whom I owe this +money.”</p> + +<p>“To our firm; who elshe? We have took your paper, and +you have our cheques on Childs'.”</p> + +<p><a class="pagenum" name="Page_230" title="230"> </a>“<em>Your</em> 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 <em>is</em> that principal +for whom you act?”</p> + +<p>“I don't know.”</p> + +<p>“Come, Mr. Levi! you are no simpleton; you may as well +tell me—no one shall be a bit the wiser—for I <em>will</em> know.”</p> + +<p>“Azh I'm a shinner—as I hope to be shaved<span style="white-space: nowrap;">——</span>” began +Mr. Levi.</p> + +<p>“It won't do—you may just as well tell me—out with it!”</p> + +<p>“Well, here now; I <em>don't</em> know, but if I did, upon my shoul, +I wouldn't tell you.”</p> + +<p>“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?”</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>“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.”</p> + +<p>“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.</p> + +<p>“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, <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—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!”</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. “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?”</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 “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.</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 “open sesame,” 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>“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?”</p> + +<p>Mr. Levi waited to bolt his sandwich, and then swallow down +his champagne.</p> + +<p>“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?”</p> + +<p>“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?”</p> + +<p>“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?”</p> + +<p>“I'll take it all,” said Richard Arden. “I wish I could have +it without these blackguards seeing.”</p> + +<p>“They don't care, blesh ye! if you got it from the old boy +himself. That <em>is</em> 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.”</p> + +<p>“Say two, like the other, and don't keep me waiting.”</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>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.”</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>“Well, what way you like, only be quick,” 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, “Master +Richard!” 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, “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.</p> + +<p>“That's Crozier talking,” said Richard.</p> + +<p>“Yes, Sir,” said Crozier, in a low tone; “I'm here half-an-hour, +Sir, waiting till you should wake.”</p> + +<p>“Let in some light; I can't see you.”</p> + +<p>Crozier opened half the window-shutter, and drew the curtain.</p> + +<p>“Are ye ailin', Master Richard—are ye bad, Sir?”</p> + +<p>“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<span style="white-space: nowrap;">——</span>”</p> + +<p>“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.</p> + +<p>“Good God!” cried Richard, starting up in his bed and +staring at old Crozier with a frightened look.</p> + +<p>“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.”</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>“'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—<em>there</em>,’ he'd say, ‘and <em>there</em>—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.”</p> + +<p>Crozier paused for a moment, and shook his head.</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>“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.”</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—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!</p> + +<p>“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.”</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—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.</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—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>“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.”</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>“Ah! How was that? How long ago?” asked Mr. Arden.</p> + +<p>“About twenty years, Sir.”</p> + +<p>“And where was that funeral?”</p> + +<p>“The same place, Sir, Mortlake.”</p> + +<p>“Yes, I know that was<span style="white-space: nowrap;">——</span>?”</p> + +<p>“It was Mr. 'Enry, or rayther 'Arry Harden. We 'ad to take +back the plate, Sir, and change 'Enry to 'Arry—'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.”</p> + +<p>“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.</p> + +<p>“There was, Sir,—and it affected me very sensibly. My +niece, Sir, had a wery narrow escape.”</p> + +<p>“Your niece! Really? How could that be?”</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>“I know—so he undoubtably had—and the poor young lady, +I suppose, was greatly shocked and distressed.”</p> + +<p>“Yes, Sir, and she died about a year after.”</p> + +<p>David Arden expressed his regret, and then he asked—</p> + +<p>“You have often seen that man, Yelland Mace?”</p> + +<p>“Not often, Sir.”</p> + +<p>“You remember his face pretty well, I daresay?”</p> + +<p>“Well, no, Sir, not very well. It is a long time.”</p> + +<p>“Do you recollect whether there was anything noticeable in +his features?—had he, for instance, a remarkably prominent +nose?”</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>“Really? I should be so much obliged if you would allow me +to see it.”</p> + +<p>“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.”</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?”">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">“<span style="white-space: nowrap;">——</span>inky cloak, good mother,<br/></div> +<div class="line indent1">And customary suits of solemn black;”<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 “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.</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>“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?”</p> + +<p>“Tolerable, Sir, thankye, considerin'. It's a great upset to +her.”</p> + +<p>“Yes, poor thing, of course. And has Mr. Paller been here—the +person who is to—to<span style="white-space: nowrap;">——</span>”</p> + +<p>“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?”</p> + +<p><a class="pagenum" name="Page_242" title="242"> </a>“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?”</p> + +<p>“In her room, Sir, I think.”</p> + +<p>“I won't see her there. Ask her to come to the oak-room.”</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>“How's a' wi' you, Master Richard? A dowly house ye've +come too. Ye didna look to see this sa soon?”</p> + +<p>“Very sudden, Martha—awfully sudden. I could not let the +day pass without coming out to see you.”</p> + +<p>“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 <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.”</p> + +<p>“Don't say that, Martha, unless you would have me think +you expect to find me less kind than my father was.”</p> + +<p>“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,” she continued considerately. +“Ye broke his heart, Master Richard; he was never the same +man after he fell out wi' you.”</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>“Come and see him,” said the old woman grimly, taking up +the candle.</p> + +<p>“No, Martha, no; set it down again—I'll not go.”</p> + +<p>“And when will you see him?”</p> + +<p>“Another time—not now—I can't.”</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>“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.”</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">“He's</span> lookin' very nice and like himself,” 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>“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.”</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>“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.”</p> + +<p>“Yes, Martha, we all have our troubles.”</p> + +<p><a class="pagenum" name="Page_245" title="245"> </a>“Ay, it's well to know that in time: the young seldom does,” +she answered sardonically.</p> + +<p>“I'll go, Martha. I'll return to the oak-room. I wish my +uncle were come.”</p> + +<p>“Well, you have took your last look, and that's but decent, +and<span style="white-space: nowrap;">——</span> Dear me, Master Richard, you do look bad!”</p> + +<p>“I feel a little faint, Martha. I'll go there; and will you give +me a glass of sherry?”</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—</p> + +<p>“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!”</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>“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.</p> + +<p>The entrance of Martha Tansey at this moment gave the talk +a new turn.</p> + +<p>“By-the-bye, Martha,” said he, “has Mr. Plumes come? He +said he would be here at eight o'clock.”</p> + +<p>“He's waitin', Sir; and 'twas to tell you so I came in. Shall +I tell him to come here?”</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>“May I remain?” asked Richard.</p> + +<p>“Do; certainly.”</p> + +<p>“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.</p> + +<p>When Mr. Plumes was seated, he said, with much deliberation, +in reply to Uncle David's question—</p> + +<p>“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?”</p> + +<p>“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?”</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>“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.”</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>“Oh!” exclaimed Uncle David with considerable disappointment, +“I thought it was a miniature; this is only a silhouette; +but you are sure it <em>is</em> the profile of Yelland Mace?”</p> + +<p>“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.”</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>“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 <em>ever</em> knew.”</p> + +<p><a class="pagenum" name="Page_247" title="247"> </a>“No,” said Richard; “I don't recollect any one the least like +it.” And he replaced it in his uncle's hand.</p> + +<p>“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?”</p> + +<p>“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.”</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>“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.</p> + +<p>“I can't say he was a friend; he was an acquaintance, but +even that is quite ended.”</p> + +<p>“What! you don't know him any longer?”</p> + +<p>“No.”</p> + +<p>“You're quite sure!”</p> + +<p>“Perfectly.”</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>He looked at his nephew, who returned his steady look with +one of utter surprise.</p> + +<p>“Oh, dear! no. There is not a vestige of a resemblance,” +said Richard. “I know his features very well.”</p> + +<p>“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.”</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 “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.</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—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 <ins title="folowing">following</ins> terms:—</p> + +<blockquote> +<p class="small-caps">“Dear Mr. Longcluse,</p> + +<p class="larger-indent">“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;">“Ever yours sincerely,</span><br/> +“<span class="small-caps">May Penrose</span>.”</p> +</blockquote> + +<p>Mr. Longcluse smiled darkly, as he read this note again. “It +is better to be sought after than to offer one's self.”</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>“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?”</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>“You have only to say, dear Lady May, what I can do. I +am too happy to place my poor services at your disposal.”</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>Mr. Longcluse was earnest in his assurances of secresy and +good faith.</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>“Oh! Really?” Mr. Longcluse expressed his well-bred surprise +very creditably.</p> + +<p>“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 +<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—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.”</p> + +<p>“You are quite sure of that, Lady May?” said Longcluse.</p> + +<p>“I heard it all as I tell you. My man of business told me; +and I saw David Arden,” she answered.</p> + +<p>“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?”</p> + +<p>“Certainly; <em>only</em> she—only Miss Arden—only Alice.”</p> + +<p>He looked down in thought, and then again in her face, paler +than usual. He had made up his mind.</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>He was going.</p> + +<p>“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?”</p> + +<p>“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—and it is the <em>last</em> 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.”</p> + +<p>“But do you really wish me to write? I'll take an +opportunity of speaking to her. Would not that be less +formal?”</p> + +<p>“Perhaps so; but, forgive me, it would not answer. I beg of +you to write.”</p> + +<p>“But why do you prefer my writing?”</p> + +<p>“Because I shall then read her answer.”</p> + +<p>“Then I must tell her that you are to read her reply.”</p> + +<p>“Certainly, dear Lady May; I meant nothing else.”</p> + +<p>“Well, Mr. Longcluse, there is no great difficulty.”</p> + +<p>“I only make it a request, not a condition. I shall do my +utmost in any case. Pray tell her that.”</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>“That will answer as well. How can I thank you?”</p> + +<p><a class="pagenum" name="Page_251" title="251"> </a>“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.”</p> + +<p>“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.”</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>“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 <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?” 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>“Certainly, Mr. Longcluse—certainly, Sir. Will you allow +me, Sir, to conduct you?”</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—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<span style="white-space: nowrap;">——</span>,” 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.”</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 “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.</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 “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 +<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 “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.</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 “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.”</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,—</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>“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.</p> + +<p>“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!”</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,—</p> + +<p>“Don't mind what I say about that fellow, for I have no +patience with myself for having ever known him.”</p> + +<p>“I am so glad, Dick, you have dropped <em>that</em> acquaintance!” +said the young lady.</p> + +<p>“You have come at last to think as I do,” said Richard.</p> + +<p><a class="pagenum" name="Page_255" title="255"> </a>“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.”</p> + +<p>“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.”</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—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.</p> + +<p>“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?”</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>“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.”</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 “what dar' Longcluse say or do that she need fear?” +And was not Crozier dozing there in the chair, “ready at +call?”</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—</p> + +<p>“What's your will wi' me?”</p> + +<p>“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.</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, “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.”</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>“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.</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—</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>Mrs. Tansey curtseyed again.</p> + +<p>“Pray take this note.”</p> + +<p>She took it.</p> + +<p>“Give it to Crozier; and pray tell Miss Alice Arden, immediately, +that she need have no fears. Good-night.”</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>“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 <em>two</em> 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 <em>give</em> a thousand—<em>ten</em> 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 <em>break</em> 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, +<i lang="la" xml:lang="la">cujus nulla est pars</i>—the mere stand-point of a retrospect +and a conjecture. Ha! There are the wheels: there goes the +funeral!”</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—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>“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 <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.”</p> + +<p>He sighs, and looks toward the house, and sighs again.</p> + +<p>“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—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.”</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—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>“So, my dear, do what I may, there she will remain, in that +<i lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">triste</i> 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.”</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>“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.”</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>Longcluse sighed.</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>A little silence followed.</p> + +<p>“How is Miss Arden?” asked he in a low tone, and hardly +raising his eyes.</p> + +<p>“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?”</p> + +<p>“Yes, more than once,” 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>“I was going to say that I hoped Miss Arden was not vexed +at my having ventured to interfere as I did.”</p> + +<p>“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 <i lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">pendule</i> 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.”</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>“Will you shpare me one word, Mr. Lonclushe?”</p> + +<p>“Not to-day, Sir.”</p> + +<p>“But I've been to your chambers, Sir, and to your houshe, +Mr. Lonclushe.”</p> + +<p>“You've wasted time—waste no more.”</p> + +<p>“I do assure you, Shir, it'sh very urgent.”</p> + +<p>“I don't care.”</p> + +<p>“It'sh about that East Indian thing,” and he lowered his +voice as he concluded the sentence.</p> + +<p>“I don't care a pin, Sir.”</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>“And everything elshe is going sho vell; and it would look +fishy, don't you think, to let thish thing go that way?”</p> + +<p>“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.”</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>“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 <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—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.”</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>“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?”</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, he knows everybody.”</p> + +<p>“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?”</p> + +<p>“I only know that her husband made a great deal of money +by a contract.”</p> + +<p>“That sounds very badly, and she is such a vulgar +woman?”</p> + +<p><a class="pagenum" name="Page_267" title="267"> </a>“I know no more of them; but Lady May had her to Raleigh +Hall, and surely she can satisfy your scruples.”</p> + +<p>“No, it was my guardian who asked for their card, so that +goes for nothing. It is really too bad.”</p> + +<p>“My heart bleeds for you.”</p> + +<p>“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.</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>“‘Oh! Pity such difference should be<span style="white-space: nowrap;">——</span>.’”</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>“He ought to marry some one with money, and give up +play.”</p> + +<p>“What! give up play, and commence husband? I'm afraid +he'd think that a rather dull life.”</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>“I'm glad of that; she's always so kind.” 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>“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?”</p> + +<p>“Certainly, upon my honour.”</p> + +<p>“Well, she says<span style="white-space: nowrap;">——</span>”</p> + +<p>Miss Maubray gets up quickly, and settles some flowers over +the chimney-piece.</p> + +<p>“She says that there is a coolness in that quarter also.”</p> + +<p>“I don't quite see,” says Mr. Longcluse.</p> + +<p>“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—she's so good-natured—to use +my influence—she said <em>my</em> influence! She ought to know I've +<em>no</em> influence.”</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>“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.”</p> + +<p>“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 <em>have</em> promised—not to tell any +one?”</p> + +<p>“I have—I do—I promise. Lady May herself said she would +show me that letter.”</p> + +<p>“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.”</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>“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.”</p> + +<p>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”):—</p> + +<blockquote> +<p class="small-caps">“Dearest Merry,</p> + +<p class="larger-indent">“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 +<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.—Your +affectionate,</p> + +<p class="right small-caps">“Alice Arden.”</p> +</blockquote> + +<p>“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.</p> + +<p>“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>!”</p> + +<p>“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?”</p> + +<p>“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.</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>“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.”</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">“Dear Lady May,</p> + +<p class="larger-indent">“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,</p> + +<p class="right small-caps">“Walter Longcluse.”</p> + +<p>“P.S.—I don't forget your kind invitation to lunch to-morrow.”</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 +“down in the mouth,” and his big black eyes are glowing +angrily.</p> + +<p>“Ho! Shir Richard Harden,” he says, rising, “I did not +think we was sho near the time. Izh it a bit too soon?”</p> + +<p>“A little later than the time I named.”</p> + +<p>“Crikey! sho it izh.”</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>“So you <em>will</em> want that bit o' money in hand?” said Mr. +Levi.</p> + +<p>“I told you so.”</p> + +<p>“Don't you think they'll ever get tired helpin' you, if you keep +pulling alwaysh the wrong way?”</p> + +<p>“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,” said Sir Richard, a +little sourly.</p> + +<p>“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.</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>“That's my own affair, I fancy,” replied Sir Richard, as +haughtily as prudence would permit. “You are simply an +agent.”</p> + +<p>“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!”</p> + +<p>“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.</p> + +<p>Mr. Levi nodded surlily.</p> + +<p>“Have you drawn those bills?”</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,—</p> + +<p>“The date is ridiculously short!”</p> + +<p>“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!”</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>The Jew smiled mysteriously.</p> + +<p>“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.</p> + +<p>“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!”</p> + +<p>“You're mistaken; I don't choose to have any transactions +with Mr. Longcluse.”</p> + +<p>There was a little pause.</p> + +<p>“By-the-bye, I saw in some morning paper—I forget which—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.”</p> + +<p>“I know, in the <cite>Timesh</cite>,” interposed Levi.</p> + +<p>“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?”</p> + +<p>“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!”</p> + +<p>“Give me the cheque,” said Sir Richard, extending his fingers.</p> + +<p>“Pleashe, Shir Richard, accept them billsh,” replied Levi, +pushing an ink-stand toward him, “and I'll get our cheque +for you.”</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>“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-<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—'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.”</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,—</p> + +<p>“It <em>ish</em> 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.”</p> + +<p><a class="pagenum" name="Page_275" title="275"> </a>“I can get notes for one of these cheques to-night?” said +Sir Richard.</p> + +<p>“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.</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>“I've travelled all this way,” she said, “to make you come +with me on Friday to the Abbey.”</p> + +<p>“On Friday? Why Friday, dear?” answered Alice.</p> + +<p>“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—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.”</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>“Does your uncle come out here to see you?” asks Lady +May.</p> + +<p>“Often; he's very kind,” she replies.</p> + +<p>“And Grace Maubray?”</p> + +<p>“Oh, yes; I see her pretty often—that is, she has been here +twice, I think—quite often enough.”</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>“I don't know that,” says Alice.</p> + +<p>“Oh! really?” says Lady May, “and who is it?”</p> + +<p>“It is merely a suspicion,” says Alice.</p> + +<p>“Yes—but you think she likes some one—do, like a darling, +tell me who it is,” urges Lady May, a little uneasily.</p> + +<p>“You must not tell anyone, because they would say it was +sisterly vanity, but I think she likes Dick.”</p> + +<p>“Sir Richard?” says Lady May, with as much indifference +as she could.</p> + +<p>“Yes, I think she likes my brother.”</p> + +<p>Lady May smiles painfully.</p> + +<p>“I always thought so,” she says; “and he admires her, of +course?”</p> + +<p>“No, I don't think he admires her at all. I'm certain he +doesn't,” said Alice.</p> + +<p>“Well, certainly he always does speak of her as if she +belonged to Vivian Darnley,” remarks Lady May, more +happily.</p> + +<p>“So she does, and he to her, I hope,” said Alice.</p> + +<p>“Hope?” repeated Lady May, interrogatively.</p> + +<p>“Yes—I think nothing could be more suitable.”</p> + +<p>“Perhaps so; you know them better than I do.”</p> + +<p>“Yes, and I still think Uncle David intends them for one +another.”</p> + +<p>“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?”</p> + +<p>“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 +<a class="pagenum" name="Page_278" title="278"> </a> +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.”</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>Alice sighs, and looked wearily through the window, as if the +subject bored her; and she said listlessly,—</p> + +<p>“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.”</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>“The Baron Vanboeren?” inquires Uncle David courteously.</p> + +<p>The baron, who is smoking, nods gruffly.</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>The baron grunts and nods again.</p> + +<p>“I wrote a note to beg the pleasure of a very short interview, +and you have been so good as to admit me.”</p> + +<p>The baron smokes on.</p> + +<p><a class="pagenum" name="Page_279" title="279"> </a>“I am told that you possibly are possessed of information +which I have long been seeking in vain.”</p> + +<p>Another nod.</p> + +<p>“Monsieur Lebas, the unfortunate little Frenchman who was +murdered here in London, was, I <ins title="believe">believe,</ins> in your employment?”</p> + +<p>The baron here had a little fit of coughing.</p> + +<p>Uncle David accepted this as an admission.</p> + +<p>“He was acquainted with Mr. Longcluse?”</p> + +<p>“Was he?” says the baron, removing and replacing his pipe +quickly.</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>The baron took his pipe from his mouth, and blew out a thin +stream of smoke.</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>“You knew him in Paris, I believe?” urges Uncle David.</p> + +<p>“Nosing but zat—ze greadest respect,” repeats the baron. “I +sink him a very worzy gendleman.”</p> + +<p>“No doubt, but I venture to ask whether you were acquainted +with Mr. Longcluse in Paris?”</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>And on completing this sentence the baron replaced his pipe, +and delivered several rapid puffs.</p> + +<p>“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?”</p> + +<p>“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—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?”</p> + +<p>He looks positively ferocious as he delivers this expostulation.</p> + +<p>“My request must be more unreasonable than it appeared to +me.”</p> + +<p><a class="pagenum" name="Page_280" title="280"> </a>“Nosing can be more unreasonable!”</p> + +<p>“And I am to understand that you positively object to giving +me any information respecting the persons I have named?”</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—</p> + +<p>“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;">——</span>”</p> + +<p>“Never, upon my honour.”</p> + +<p>“Nor to say you have talked with me here in London<span style="white-space: nowrap;">——</span>”</p> + +<p>“Never.”</p> + +<p>“I will tell you that I have no objection to sbeak wis you, +<em>privately</em> 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.”</p> + +<p>He opens the door and wags his head peremptorily, and points +with his pipe to the lobby.</p> + +<p>“You'll not forget your promise, Baron, when I call? for visit +you I will.”</p> + +<p>“I never forget nosing. Monsieur Arden, will you go or +<em>nod</em>?”</p> + +<p>“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.</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>“That old fool,” he mutters, in his native German, “won't +come near me again while I remain in London.”</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>“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.”</p> + +<p>The baron shrugs, shakes his head, and rolls his eyes dismally.</p> + +<p>“Ah, my friend, ze exbenses are enormous.”</p> + +<p>“And the receipts still more so,” says Longcluse cheerfully; +“you must be making, among you, a mint of money.”</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>“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<span style="white-space: nowrap;">——</span>”</p> + +<p>“Bardon, Monsieur, bardon! I am doo old. I have no +spirits.”</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>“Well, if you don't care for billiards, we'll find something +else,” replies hospitable Mr. Longcluse.</p> + +<p>“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?”</p> + +<p>“I did indeed, and it amused me beyond measure,” says +Longcluse joyously.</p> + +<p>“Amuse!” repeats the baron, “how so?”</p> + +<p><a class="pagenum" name="Page_283" title="283"> </a>“Because it is so diverting; one might almost fancy it was +meant to ask me for fifteen hundred pounds.”</p> + +<p>“I have lost, by zis sing, a vast deal more zan zat.”</p> + +<p>“And, my dear Baron, what on earth have I to do with +that?”</p> + +<p>“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?”</p> + +<p>“Not as much as I gave Lebas,” said Longcluse, eyeing him +askance, with a smile.</p> + +<p>“I don't know what you mean.”</p> + +<p>“Not a napoleon, not a franc, not a sou.”</p> + +<p>“You are jesding; sink, sink, sink, Monsieur, what a friend I +have been and <em>am</em> to you.”</p> + +<p>“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!”</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—</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>“Farewell, dear Baron. How can I thank you enough for +this kind meeting? Try one of my cigars as you go home.”</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>“That bloated spider?” mused Mr. Longcluse. “How many +flies has he sucked! It is another matter when spiders take to +catching wasps.”</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—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 <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>“SAUL.”</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>“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 +<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.” 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.”</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">“I would that, by thy art, thou bring me up<br/></div> +<div class="line indent1">The man whom I shall name,”<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—</p> + +<div class="poetry"> +<div class="stanza"> +<div class="line">“If heaven denies thee aid, seek it from hell.”<br/></div> +</div> +</div> + +<p class="no-indent">And the soprano sends forth the answering incantation, wild +and piercing—</p> + +<div class="poetry"> +<div class="stanza"> +<div class="line">“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.”<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—</p> + +<div class="poetry"> +<div class="stanza"> +<div class="line">“Such haughty beauties rather move<br/></div> +<div class="line indent1">Aversion, than engage our love.”<br/></div> +</div> +</div> + +<p class="no-indent">He might with an undivulged anguish have heard the adoring +strain—</p> + +<div class="poetry"> +<div class="stanza"> +<div class="line">“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.”<br/></div> +</div> +</div> + +<p>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.</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>“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.”</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—</p> + +<p>“Miss Arden, a word with you.”</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>“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 <em>I</em> am the demon of <em>your</em> +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 +<cite>Times</cite> and all the rest next morning.”</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>“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 <em>my</em> story. But there's +another way, if you don't like that. Your brother's not afraid—<em>he</em>'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 <ins title="t">it</ins>—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!”</p> + +<p>This pale man enjoys her terror cruelly.</p> + +<p>“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 <em>are</em> such a good listener!”</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>“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 +<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!”</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>“My dear, how pale you look! Are you tired?” exclaims +Lady May, when they have come to a halt at the door.</p> + +<p>“Yes, indeed, so she does. Are you ill, dear?” added her +uncle.</p> + +<p>“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.</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>“I can't imagine, dear Alice, why you <em>will</em> 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.”</p> + +<p>“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 +<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.”</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>“Oh! my dear Dick, you can't mean that! All the northern +property, and this, and Morley?”</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>“What friend?”</p> + +<p>“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?”</p> + +<p>“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,” 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.”</p> + +<p>“No, certainly,” said Richard; “and he said it was he who +lent it?”</p> + +<p>“Yes, distinctly.”</p> + +<p>“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.”</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">“Here</span> 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.”</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 “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!</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>“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.”</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>Sir Richard Arden hears this with a stare of surprise.</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>“But are any of these things proved?” urges Miss Arden.</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>“Well, Dick, you know I reminded you before—you used not +to believe those stories till you quarrelled with him.”</p> + +<p>“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?”</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—</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>She burst into tears.</p> + +<p>“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. <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,” he +says, a little suddenly, after a considerable silence.</p> + +<p>Alice looks at him, doubtful whether he is serious.</p> + +<p>“I really mean it. It is the only honest way of making or +mending a fortune now-a-days.”</p> + +<p>“Well, Dick, it is time enough to think of that by-and-by, +don't you think?”</p> + +<p>“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;">——</span>”</p> + +<p><a class="pagenum" name="Page_298" title="298"> </a>“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?”</p> + +<p>“I have plenty to live on; I know that exactly,” said Dick.</p> + +<p>“What is it?”</p> + +<p>“My wife's fortune.”</p> + +<p>“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?”</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>“I don't understand you.”</p> + +<p>“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, ‘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!”</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—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.</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—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>“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 <em>ruined</em>.”</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 “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.</p> + +<p>“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 <em>robbed</em>—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!”</p> + +<p>“I'll make out that in an hour's time. They'll tell me at the +houshe who the shentleman wazh.”</p> + +<p>“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 <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—without thinking of something.”</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>“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?”</p> + +<p>“Not he. He'd rather give me a shove under.”</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>“For money?” exclaimed Richard.</p> + +<p>“Not at a—all,” drawled the Jew impatiently. “Lishen—mind. +The old fellow, your friend<span style="white-space: nowrap;">——</span>”</p> + +<p>“He's out of town,” interrupted Richard.</p> + +<p>“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 <ins title="harmlesh.”">harmlesh.’”</ins></p> + +<p>“I don't think I can,” said Sir Richard; “I can't be quite +sure, though. It is just possible he might.”</p> + +<p>“Well, let Blount try,” 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 “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.</p> + +<p>“If he won't do that, there'sh but one chansh left.”</p> + +<p>“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.</p> + +<p>“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.”</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>“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.”</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>“Yes, I suppose so,” said Sir Richard, abstractedly. “To-morrow +night—to-morrow evening at nine o'clock.”</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>“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.”</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>“Will you take a biscuit and a glass of sherry, Sir Richard?” +asked Mr. Blount.</p> + +<p>“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?”</p> + +<p>“Perfectly; he authorised me to say so two months ago, and +on the eve of his departure on Friday last he repeated his +instructions.”</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, “Who +could his mysterious benefactor be?”</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 “old party” 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>“Mr. David Arden very well, I hope?”</p> + +<p>“Quite well, thanks. He has left town.”</p> + +<p>“Indeed! And where has he gone—the moors?”</p> + +<p>“To Scotland, but not to shoot, I think. And he's going +abroad then—going to travel.”</p> + +<p>“On the Continent? How nice that is! What part?”</p> + +<p>“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.</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>“He never tells us where a letter will find him, and the consequence +is his holidays are never spoiled.”</p> + +<p>“Not a bad plan, Mr. Blount. Won't he visit the Paris +Exhibition?”</p> + +<p>“I rather think not.”</p> + +<p>“Can I do anything for you, Mr. Blount?”</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>“Is Sir Richard Arden interested in it?” inquired Mr. Longcluse, +gently and coldly.</p> + +<p>“Yes, I rather fancy he would be benefited.”</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>“It was not <em>directly</em>, but simply as a surety<span style="white-space: nowrap;">——</span>”</p> + +<p>“All the same, so far as I'm concerned,” said Mr. Longcluse +sharply.</p> + +<p>“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;">——</span>”</p> + +<p>“I won't do it,” said Mr. Longcluse, a little brusquely; and +he took out his watch and glanced at it impatiently.</p> + +<p>“Sir Richard, I think, will be in funds immediately,” said +Mr. Blount.</p> + +<p>“How so?” asked Mr. Longcluse. “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.”</p> + +<p>“Well,” said Mr. Blount, who saw that his last words had +made an impression, “Sir Richard is likely to be married, very +advantageously, immediately.”</p> + +<p>“Are settlements agreed on?” inquired Mr. Longcluse, with +real interest.</p> + +<p>“No, not yet; but I know all about them.”</p> + +<p>“He is accepted then?”</p> + +<p>“He has not proposed yet; but there can be, I fancy, no +doubt that the lady likes him, and all will go right.”</p> + +<p>“Oh! and who is the lady?”</p> + +<p>“I'm not at liberty to tell.”</p> + +<p>“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.</p> + +<p>“It is my opinion,” said Mr. Blount, “the kindness would +involve absolutely no risk whatever.”</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,—</p> + +<p>“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?”</p> + +<p>“Unless he should take a sudden thought to return, he'll be +away at least two months.”</p> + +<p>“Where is he?—in Scotland?”</p> + +<p>“I <em>really</em> don't know.”</p> + +<p>“Couldn't one see him for a few minutes before he starts? +Where does he take the steamer?”</p> + +<p>“Southampton.”</p> + +<p>“And on what day?”</p> + +<p>“You really want a word with him?” asked Blount, whose +hopes revived.</p> + +<p>“I may.”</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>“Humphries, of Pendle Castle. Very good; thanks.”</p> + +<p>Mr. Longcluse looks again at his watch.</p> + +<p>“And perhaps you will reconsider the matter I spoke of?”</p> + +<p>“No use, Mr. Blount—not the least. I have quite made up +my mind. Anything more? I am afraid I must be off.”</p> + +<p>“Nothing, thanks,” 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>“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.”</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>“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?”</p> + +<p>“Quite true. It is a very bad quarrel, and I'm afraid it can't +be made up,” said Mr. Longcluse.</p> + +<p>“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?”</p> + +<p>“At <em>least</em>. And you heard, I suppose, of poor old Lady +Glare?”</p> + +<p>“No!”</p> + +<p>“She has been rolling ever so long, you know, in a sea of +troubles, and now, at last, she has fairly foundered.”</p> + +<p>“How do you mean?”</p> + +<p>“They have sold her diamonds,” said Mr. Longcluse. “Didn't +you hear?”</p> + +<p>“No! Really? Sold her diamonds? Good Heaven! Then +there's nothing left of her but her teeth. I hope they won't sell +them.”</p> + +<p>“It is an awful misfortune,” said Mr. Longcluse.</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>“You're talking riddles; pray speak plainly.”</p> + +<p>“Well, Lady May is one of several ladies who are to be +honoured with a proposal.”</p> + +<p>“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?”</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>“I don't think you like him, Mr. Longcluse; is not that a +story a little too like ‘The Merry Wives of Windsor?’”</p> + +<p>“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.”</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,—</p> + +<p>“But how shall we know whether he really speaks to Lady +May?”</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>“He was a little unfortunate in showing you his list, wasn't +he?” said Grace Maubray.</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>“Oh! Mr. Blount, I'm told, is a very honest man.”</p> + +<p>“Quite so; particularly accurate, and I don't think anything +on earth would induce him to tell an untruth,” testifies Mr. +Longcluse.</p> + +<p>After a little pause, Miss Maubray laughs.</p> + +<p>“One certainly does learn,” she said, “something new every +day. Could any one have fancied a <em>gentleman</em> descending to so +gross a meanness?”</p> + +<p>“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.”</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—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—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.</p> + +<p>“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 <em>is</em> such an odd affair—not quite that; such +an odd scene, I don't know where or how to begin.”</p> + +<p>“I wish I could help you,” said Miss Maubray laughing.</p> + +<p>“Oh, my dear, you'd never guess in a hundred years.”</p> + +<p><a class="pagenum" name="Page_312" title="312"> </a>“How do you know? Hasn't a certain baronet something to +do with it?”</p> + +<p>“Well, well—dear me! That is <em>very</em> extraordinary. Did he +tell you he was going to—to—Good gracious! My dear, it <em>is</em> +the most extraordinary thing. I believe you hear everything; +but—a—but <em>listen</em>. 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 <em>everything</em>, 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!”</p> + +<p>“I wish you would tell <em>me</em> 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.”</p> + +<p>“<em>You</em>, my dear?” said Lady May after a pause, during which +she was staring at the smiling face of the young lady; <ins title="you">“you</ins> +can't be serious!”</p> + +<p>“<em>He</em> 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.”</p> + +<p>She opened the door of the boudoir adjoining the room.</p> + +<p>“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.”</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—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,—</p> + +<p>“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<span style="white-space: nowrap;">——</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.”</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>“Nor do I,” he said, archly.</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>“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>.”</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>“Now, really, that is too bad. I may have put my hand to +my side, when it ached from laughing.”</p> + +<p><a class="pagenum" name="Page_314" title="314"> </a>“How can you talk so? You know very well I have heard +you tell her how you admire her music and her landscapes.”</p> + +<p>“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?”</p> + +<p>“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?”</p> + +<p>“I wish I dare be frank with you,” said Sir Richard.</p> + +<p>“And why not?”</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>Sir Richard looked at her quickly, but her looks were +perfectly artless.</p> + +<p>“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!”</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—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.</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—only to break through all this, and begin extemporising +wildly—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>“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!”</p> + +<p>This jealousy flattered Sir Richard.</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>“Now, now, now! How can you say that? Is that fair?”</p> + +<p>“You do.”</p> + +<p>“No, really, I swear—that's <em>too</em> bad!”</p> + +<p>“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?’”</p> + +<p>“I didn't, I swear.”</p> + +<p>“Oh! you did; I heard every syllable; ‘false’ was the +word.”</p> + +<p>“Well, if I said ‘false,’ I must have been thinking of her +hair; for she is really a very honest old woman.”</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>“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 <em>can</em> people be so? how <em>can</em> they? Oh! +I'm very angry—I'm very angry—I'm very angry!”</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, “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!”</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>Sir Richard, I believe, said “Good-bye.” 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—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 “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, <ins title="almos">almost</ins> +breathlessly,—</p> + +<p>“Oh, poor old thing! I really am sorry. Who could have +thought she cared so much? Poor old soul! what a ridiculous +old thing!”</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>“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.”</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>“Well, <em>he</em>'sh come a mucker, anyhow,” 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>“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 <ins title="candles">candles)</ins>: “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—good +heaven! was there ever man so treated? and there's the +bank letter—<em>there</em>—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! <em>Do</em>, Levi, think; you're +accustomed to—to emergency, and unless you will, I'm +<a class="pagenum" name="Page_319" title="319"> </a> +utterly ruined—ruined, by heaven, before I have time to +<ins title="think?">think!</ins>”</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>“What about them shettlements, Sir Richard—a nishe young +lady with a ha-a-tful o' money?” insinuated Levi.</p> + +<p>“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.”</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>“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.”</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>“There's just one fiddle-string left to play on,” muses the +Jew.</p> + +<p>“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.</p> + +<p>“Shir Richard, will you be so good as to come nearer +a bit? There, that'sh the cheeshe. I brought thish 'ere +thing.”</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>“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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p><a class="pagenum" name="Page_320" title="320"> </a>“I'm not quite myself, I can't follow it; too much to think of. +What is it?”</p> + +<p>“A bond and warrant to confess judgment.”</p> + +<p>“What is it for?”</p> + +<p>“Ten thoushand poundsh.”</p> + +<p>“Sign it, shall I? Can you do anything with it?”</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>“But—but my signature wouldn't satisfy him,” began Sir +Richard bewildered.</p> + +<p>“Oh! <em>no</em>—no, no?” murmured Mr. Levi, fiddling with the +corner of the bank's reminder which lay on the table.</p> + +<p>“Mr. Longcluse won't sign it,” 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>“Well,” said Levi, after both had been some time silent, “it +ain't much, only to write his name on the penshil line, <em>there</em>, you +see, and <em>there</em>—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!”</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>“Leave it with me,” he said faintly.</p> + +<p>Levi got up with an unusual hectic in each cheek, and his +eyes very brilliant.</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>Sir Richard was trembling.</p> + +<p>“Between one and two, mind. Hang it! Shir Richard, don't +you be a fool about nothing,” 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>“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.”</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>. “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.”</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—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—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.</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—</p> + +<p><a class="pagenum" name="Page_324" title="324"> </a>“Levi, you wouldn't—you could not run any risk with that?”</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>“<em>Sha-afe!</em>—that'sh the word,” 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:—</p> + +<p>“Give me that parchment back,” says he.</p> + +<p>Satan finds his tongue again.</p> + +<p>“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 <em>nothing</em>.”</p> + +<p>Levi was taking out his keys as he spoke, and as he fumbled +them over one by one, he said—</p> + +<p>“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!”</p> + +<p>Hereupon, with great alacrity, Mr. Levi began to apply the +key to the lock.</p> + +<p>“Don't mind. Keep it; and mind, you d<span style="white-space: nowrap;">——</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!”</p> + +<p>Mr. Levi looked hard at him, and nodded. He was +accustomed to excited language in certain situations.</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>“May God Almighty have mercy on me!” groans Sir Richard, +hardly above his breath.</p> + +<p>“You shall have the cheques then. He'll be here all right.”</p> + +<p>“I—I forget; did you say an hour?”</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—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.</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>“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—<em>thing</em> all right.”</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>“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.”</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, +“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.</p> + +<p>“Who?” asked the young man, a little uncertain, in +consequence of the character of that look.</p> + +<p>“Your—that—your friend, of course,” 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, “Ay, it's +him.”</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, “Is +all right?”</p> + +<p>“All <em>right</em>,” 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—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.</p> + +<p>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.</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,—</p> + +<p>“Thank God, it's over! Take me away; I'm ready to go.”</p> + +<p>“You shall go, time enough; I have a word to say first,” 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—he could not tell how many—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">“Clear</span> 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.”</p> + +<p>Longcluse smiled.</p> + +<p>“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>”</p> + +<p>Sir Richard heard all this with a helpless stare.</p> + +<p>“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?”</p> + +<p>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.”</p> + +<p>“And you are such an admirable judge of what is manly, or +<a class="pagenum" name="Page_330" title="330"> </a> +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 <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.”</p> + +<p>“That is all?” inquired Sir Richard, faintly, after a minute's +silence.</p> + +<p>“All for the <em>present</em>,” was the reply; “you will see more +clearly, by-and-by, that you are my property, and you will act +accordingly.”</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 “sponging house,” 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>“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.</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,—</p> + +<blockquote> +<p class="small-caps">“My Darling Alice,</p> + +<p class="larger-indent">“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,</p> + +<p class="right small-caps">“Dick.”</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 “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.</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>“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!” 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,—</p> + +<p>“Open the window the least bit in life.”</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>“No one up in the house but you?” he whispers, as soon as +the window is open.</p> + +<p>“Not one!”</p> + +<p>“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!”</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>“What makes you look so white and dowley?” mutters +the old woman, as she secures the window, and bars the +shutters again.</p> + +<p>“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!”</p> + +<p>“Won't you have some supper?”</p> + +<p>“No, thanks.”</p> + +<p>“A glass of sherry and a bit o' something?”</p> + +<p>“Nothing.”</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,—</p> + +<p>“I'll give you a light,” and he repeats, with a wondrous heavy +sigh, “Good-night, dear old Martha.”</p> + +<p>“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.”</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: “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—but from garret to cellar, I'm <em>master</em>. +I'll look it over, and tell you what is to be done.”</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—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.</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—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>“Oh, Alice? You didn't expect me: I'm very busy, looking +for—looking over papers. Don't mind.”</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>“Oh! it don't matter. I thought—I thought—I did not +know.”</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>“What is the matter with the little fool! There, there—don't, +don't—nonsense!”</p> + +<p>With an effort she recovered herself.</p> + +<p>“Only a little startled, Dick; I did not think you were there—good-night.”</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, “I am frightened,” 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—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>“Good Dick, to come so early! welcome, darling,” 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>“That was an odd little visit I paid last night,” said he, with +<a class="pagenum" name="Page_337" title="337"> </a> +his dark eyes fixed on her, inquiringly she thought—“very late—quite +unexpected. You are quite well to-day?—you look +flourishing.”</p> + +<p>“I wish I could say as much for you, Dick; I'm afraid you +are tiring yourself to death.”</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>Alice looked away, and then said carelessly, but very +gravely—</p> + +<p>“I did—I saw Mr. Longcluse. I could not believe my eyes, +Dick. You must promise me one thing.”</p> + +<p>“What is that?”</p> + +<p>“That he sha'n't come into this house any more—while I am +here, I mean.”</p> + +<p>“That is easily promised,” said he.</p> + +<p>“And what did he come about, Dick?”</p> + +<p>“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.”</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—</p> + +<p>“You seem to think, Alice, that one can never make a mistake, +or change an opinion.”</p> + +<p>“But I did not say so; only, Dick, I must tell you that I +have such a horror of that man—a <em>terror</em> of him—as nothing +can ever get over.”</p> + +<p>“I'm to blame for that.”</p> + +<p>“No, I can't say you are. I don't mind stories so much as<span style="white-space: nowrap;">——</span>”</p> + +<p>“As what?”</p> + +<p>“As looks.”</p> + +<p>“Looks! Why, you used to think him a gentlemanly-looking +fellow, and so he is.”</p> + +<p>“Looks <em>and language</em>,” said Alice.</p> + +<p>“I thought he was a very civil fellow.”</p> + +<p>“I sha'n't dispute anything. I suppose you have found him +a good friend after all, as you say.”</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p><a class="pagenum" name="Page_338" title="338"> </a>“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 <ins title="matter!">matter?</ins>”</p> + +<p>“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.</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>“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.”</p> + +<p>“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;">——</span>”</p> + +<p>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.”</p> + +<p>Quite another thought had been in Richard's mind, but he +was glad to accept Alice's conjecture.</p> + +<p>“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 <em>you</em> be a fool, Alice; mind what I say.”</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—</p> + +<p>“Yes, mind what I say, for God's sake, and we may all be a +great deal happier.”</p> + +<p>He kisses her, and is gone. Her eyes follow him, as she +thinks with a sigh—</p> + +<p>“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.”</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>“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.”</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p><a class="pagenum" name="Page_340" title="340"> </a>“That is a happy thought,” said Alice, laughing.</p> + +<p>“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.</p> + +<p>“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.”</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 “GUY OF WARWICK.”</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 “Guy of +Warwick.” 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>“I did not send for you. You can go!” said Alice.</p> + +<p><a class="pagenum" name="Page_342" title="342"> </a>“I don't like a house that has children in it, they gives a deal +o' trouble,” said the woman.</p> + +<p>“But I say you may go; you must go, please.”</p> + +<p>The woman looked round the room.</p> + +<p>“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;">——</span>”</p> + +<p>“Go, this moment, please, I insist on your going; do you +hear me, pray?”</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>“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.”</p> + +<p>“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;">——</span>”</p> + +<p>But here again she is overpowered by the strong voice of her +visitor.</p> + +<p>“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!”</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:—</p> + +<p>“Please don't come to me except when I send for you.”</p> + +<p>“La! Ma'am, I forgot!” exclaims the woman, when she +had examined it; “my orders was not to read any of <em>your</em> +writing.”</p> + +<p>“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.”</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>“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.”</p> + +<p>Mr. Levi wagged his head darkly as he made this political +revelation.</p> + +<p>“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.”</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:—</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>Mr. Levi eyed the women horribly all round as he ended the +sentence, and he added,—</p> + +<p>“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.” 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.”</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 “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.”</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>“Ye're there, are ye?” inquired Mr. Levi, playfully, as he +crossed the door-stone, and placed his fists on the bar grinning.</p> + +<p>“What will you take, Sir, please?” inquired the young +woman, at one side of whom was the usual row of taps and +pump-handles.</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>“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.”</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, “Three o'clock +sha-arp, mind; good-bye, Phœbe, lass, and don't you forget all +I said.”</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, “working at high blast,” 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>“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!”</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 “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.</p> + +<p>Sir Richard Arden entered the room.</p> + +<p>“You were not at Mortlake to-day,” said he.</p> + +<p>“No.”</p> + +<p>“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.”</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,—</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>Then he kissed her. How horribly agitated he looked! How +cold was the pressure of his hand!</p> + +<p>“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.</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:—</p> + +<blockquote> +<p class="small-caps">“Sir,</p> + +<p class="larger-indent">“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;">“Your obeediant servant to command,</span><br/> +“<span class="small-caps">Paul Davies</span>.”</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 “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!</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—</p> + +<blockquote> +<p class="small-caps">“Paul Davies,</p> + +<p class="larger-indent">“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;">“Yours,</span><br/> +“<span class="small-caps">Walter Longcluse</span>.”</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—</p> + +<div class="poetry"> +<div class="stanza"> +<div class="line">“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>.”<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>“You made your visit?” asked Mr. Longcluse.</p> + +<p>“Yes.”</p> + +<p>“Anything to report?”</p> + +<p>“Absolutely nothing.”</p> + +<p>A silence followed.</p> + +<p>“Where is Mr. Arden, your uncle?”</p> + +<p>“In Scotland.”</p> + +<p>“How soon does he return?”</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>“And makes some little stay there?”</p> + +<p>“I think he stays one night.”</p> + +<p>“Then I'll go down and see him, and you shall come with +me.”</p> + +<p>Sir Richard stared.</p> + +<p>“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 <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.”</p> + +<p>A dark flush crossed Arden's face as he rose.</p> + +<p>“Not a word now,” cried Longcluse harshly, extending his +hand quickly towards him; “I may do that which can't be +undone.”</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>“Oh,” she often repeated, “that Uncle David were in town, +or that I knew where to find him!”</p> + +<p>“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.”</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>“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.”</p> + +<p>He kissed his sister, sighed deeply, and looking in her eyes +for a little, fixedly, he said—</p> + +<p>“Alice, darling, you must try to think what sacrifice you can +make to save your wretched brother.”</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, “History repeats +itself,” 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>“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!” (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 <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.”</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—anger +now fired her eye and cheek.</p> + +<p>“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.”</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>“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 <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—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—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 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.” (She had reached +the hall door). “Up the steps! Yes; you wish to enter? +Certainly.”</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, +“I'll call.”</p> + +<p>The young lady, hearing his step, turned round and stood on +the stair, confronting him fiercely.</p> + +<p>“You must leave this house this moment,” she cried, with a +stamp, with gleaming eyes and very pale.</p> + +<p>“By-and-by,” 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>“I have friends here who will turn you out, Sir!”</p> + +<p>“You have <em>no</em> friends here,” 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>“My brother will protect me.”</p> + +<p>“Is he here?”</p> + +<p>“He'll call you to account to-morrow, when he comes.”</p> + +<p>“Will he say so?”</p> + +<p>“Always—brave, true Richard!” she sobbed, with a strange +cry in her words.</p> + +<p>“He'll do as I bid him: he's a forger, in my power.”</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>“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.</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,—</p> + +<p>“You villain! you villain! you villain!”</p> + +<p>“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.”</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>PHŒBE 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 “keep things quiet.”</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—none for escape, none for a catastrophe, +none for acting upon Alice's feelings.</p> + +<p>“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!”</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—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>“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.”</p> + +<p>“Is he still in the house?” she whispered.</p> + +<p>“Not he.”</p> + +<p>“Are you certain?”</p> + +<p>“Perfectly; with all his rant, he dares not stay: it would be +a police-office affair. He's gone long ago.”</p> + +<p>“Thank God!” 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>“Who are you?” said Alice, sitting up. “I rang for my +maid, Louisa Diaper.”</p> + +<p>“Please, my lady,” she answers, with a short curtsey, “she +went into town to fetch some things here from Sir Richard's +house.”</p> + +<p>“How long ago?”</p> + +<p>“Just when you was getting better, please, my lady.”</p> + +<p>“When she returns send her to me. What is your name?”</p> + +<p>“Phœbe Chiffinch, please 'm.”</p> + +<p>“And you are here<span style="white-space: nowrap;">——</span>”</p> + +<p>“In her place, please my lady.”</p> + +<p>“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.”</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—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.</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 “Guy of +Warwick,” 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 Phœbe 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>“Tell me, now, what servants there are in the house,” asked +Alice.</p> + +<p>“Only two women and myself, please, Miss.”</p> + +<p>“Is there anyone else in the house, besides ourselves?”</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>“I was told, Ma'am, not to talk of nothing here, Miss, except +my own business, please, my lady.”</p> + +<p>“My God! This girl mayn't speak truth to me,” exclaimed +Alice, clasping her hands aghast.</p> + +<p>The girl looked up uneasily.</p> + +<p>“I should be sent away, Ma'am, if I do.”</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>She looked again, very much frightened, in her face, and was +silent.</p> + +<p>“No one shall ever know but I. Trust me entirely, and I'll +never forget it to you.”</p> + +<p>“Well, Ma'am, there is two men.”</p> + +<p>“Who are they?”</p> + +<p>“Two men, please 'm. I knows one on 'em—he was keeper +<a class="pagenum" name="Page_359" title="359"> </a> +on the ‘Guy o' Warwick,’ please, my lady, when there was a +hexecution in the 'ouse. They're both sheriff's men.”</p> + +<p>“And what are they doing here?”</p> + +<p>“A hexecution, my lady.”</p> + +<p>“That is, to sell the furniture and everything for a debt, isn't +that it?” inquired the lady, bewildered.</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>“Take <em>me</em>?”</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>“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.”</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 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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p><a class="pagenum" name="Page_361" title="361"> </a>“Here's a latch-key, Miss; maybe you know what it opens?”</p> + +<p>“Where did you find it?”</p> + +<p>“In the old china vase over the chimney, please 'm.”</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>“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 <em>think</em>. 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.</p> + +<p>“You thought they might lock us up?” whispered Alice.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>“Didn't I hear another key clink as you put your hand in?” +asked Alice.</p> + +<p>The girl smiled, and drew out a large key, and nodded, still +smiling as she replaced it.</p> + +<p>“What does that open?” whispered Alice eagerly.</p> + +<p>“<em>Nothing</em>, 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.”</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—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,—</p> + +<p>“You are not looking yourself, Dick; you ought to have run +down to the moors, and got up an appetite. How is Alice?”</p> + +<p>“Alice? Oh! Alice is very well, thanks.”</p> + +<p>“I should like to run up to Mortlake to see her. She has +been complaining, eh?”</p> + +<p>“No, no—better,” says Sir Richard.</p> + +<p>“And you forget to tell your uncle what you told me,” interposes +Mr. Longcluse, “that Miss Arden left Mortlake for Yorkshire +yesterday.”</p> + +<p>“Oh!” said Uncle David, turning to Richard again.</p> + +<p>“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.</p> + +<p>“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?”</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>“Well, I have some news to tell you. His exploring voyage +will come to nothing; you did not hear?”</p> + +<p>“No.”</p> + +<p>“Why, the poor fellow's dead. I got a letter—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—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.”</p> + +<p>“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?”</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>“For Paris?” inquired Mr. Longcluse, carelessly.</p> + +<p>“Yes, Sir, for Paris,” answered Uncle David deliberately, +looking at him; “yes, for Paris.”</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 “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—</p> + +<p>“Be true to me now, and we may make it up yet.”</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>“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<span style="white-space: nowrap;">——</span>d selfishness!”</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—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.</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>“I wish to see Monsieur the Baron, if he will permit me an +interview,” answered Mr. Arden in very fair French.</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>“But Monsieur the Baron appointed me to call to-night at +ten o'clock.”</p> + +<p>“Is Monsieur sure of that?”</p> + +<p>“Perfectly.”</p> + +<p>“Eh, very well; but, if he pleases, I must first learn Monsieur's +name.”</p> + +<p>“My name is Arden.”</p> + +<p>“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<span style="white-space: nowrap;">——</span>”</p> + +<p>“A-r-d-e-n,” interrupted and continued the visitor, spelling +his name, with a smile.</p> + +<p>“A-r-d-e-n,” she followed, reading slowly from her paper; +“yes, Monsieur is right. You see, this paper says, ‘Admit +<a class="pagenum" name="Page_366" title="366"> </a> +Monsieur David Arden to an interview.’ Enter, if you please +Monsieur, and follow me.”</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, “Monsieur the Baron +here is arrived Monsieur David d'Ardennes.”</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—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 “put out,” 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—</p> + +<p>“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>.”</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>“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.”</p> + +<p>“This house must have been the hotel of some distinguished +family, Baron; it is nobly proportioned,” 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>“Ha! Monsieur,” growls the baron, “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?”</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>“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 +<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.”</p> + +<p>“Thanks, Baron, a glance will suffice, for I am nothing of an +artist.”</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>“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!”</p> + +<p>“You are lucky, Baron.”</p> + +<p>“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'œuvre</i>. 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?”</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>“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—possible, +just possible.”</p> + +<p>“I shall certainly mention them to some friends.”</p> + +<p>“Wealthy men, of course,” said the baron.</p> + +<p>“It is an expensive taste, Baron, and none but wealthy people +can indulge it.”</p> + +<p>“True, and these would be <em>very</em> expensive. They are unique; +that lady there is the <cite>Du Barry</cite>—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>—with bacon one +catches mice!”</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>“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>—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.”</p> + +<p>“But this is not a case of attending a patient, Baron,” said +David Arden, a little haughtily.</p> + +<p>“And what ze devil <em>is</em> 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 <em>well</em> paid for +them, eh?”</p> + +<p>“Of course. I meant nothing else,” said David Arden.</p> + +<p>“Then, Sir, we understand one another so far, and that saves +time. Now, what information can the Baron Vanboeren give to +Monsieur David Arden?”</p> + +<p>“I think you would prefer my putting my questions quite +straight.”</p> + +<p>“Straight as a sword-thrust, Sir.”</p> + +<p>“Then, Baron, I want to know whether you were acquainted +with two persons, Yelland Mace and Walter Longcluse.”</p> + +<p>“Yes, I knew zem bos, slightly and yet intimately—intimately +and yet but slightly. You <ins title="wish. perhaps">wish, perhaps,</ins> to learn particulars +about those gentlemen?”</p> + +<p><a class="pagenum" name="Page_370" title="370"> </a>“I do.”</p> + +<p>“Go on: interrogate.”</p> + +<p>“Do you perfectly recollect the features of these persons?”</p> + +<p>“I ought.”</p> + +<p>“Can you give me an accurate description of Yelland Mace?”</p> + +<p>“I can bring you face to face with both.”</p> + +<p>“By Jove! Sir, are you serious?”</p> + +<p>“Mr. Longcluse is in London.”</p> + +<p>“But you talk of bringing me face to face <ins title="withthem">with them</ins>; how +soon?”</p> + +<p>“In five minutes.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, you mean a photograph, or a picture?”</p> + +<p>“No, in <ins title="the the">the</ins> solid. Here is the key of the catacombs.” +And he took a key that hung from a nail on the wall.</p> + +<p>“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! +<i lang="de" xml:lang="de">Ich bin klug und weise</i>—you sing zat song. I am +intelligent and wise, eh, he! gra-a, ha, ha!”</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>“Not much life where we are going; but you shall see zem +bose.”</p> + +<p>“You speak riddles, Baron; but by all means bring me, as +you say, face to face with them.”</p> + +<p>“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.</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>“Monsieur Yelland Mace? Yes, I will show you him; he is +among ze dead.”</p> + +<p>“Dead?”</p> + +<p>“Ay, zis right side is <em>dead</em>—all zese.”</p> + +<p>“Do you mean,” says David Arden, “<em>literally</em> that Yelland +Mace is no longer living?”</p> + +<p>“A, B, C, D, E, F, G,” mutters the baron, slowly pointing his +finger along the right wall.</p> + +<p>“I beg your pardon, Baron, but I don't think you heard me,” +said David Arden.</p> + +<p>“<em>Perfectly</em>, excuse me: H, I, J, K, L, M—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?”</p> + +<p>“Intensely—<em>most</em> intensely!” 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>“Permit me to ask,” said the baron, “are your inquiries +directed to a legal object?”</p> + +<p><a class="pagenum" name="Page_372" title="372"> </a>“I have no difficulty in saying yes,” answered he; “a legal +object, strictly.”</p> + +<p>“A legal object, by which you gain considerably?” he asked +slowly.</p> + +<p>“By which I gain the satisfaction of seeing justice done upon +a villain.”</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>“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.</p> + +<p>“Not an estate? not a slice of an estate? Come, come! +<i lang="de" xml:lang="de">Thorheit!</i> That is foolish talk.”</p> + +<p>“I have told you already, nothing,” repeated David Arden.</p> + +<p>“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 <em>yours</em>. I am candid, Sir, and I think you cannot misunderstand +me; I must be paid for my time and opportunities.”</p> + +<p>“I never meant anything else,” said Mr. Arden sturdily; “I +shall pay you liberally for any service you render me.”</p> + +<p>“That, Sir, is equally frank; we understand now the +principle on which I assist you. You wish to see Yelland Mace, +so you shall.”</p> + +<p>He turned about, and struck the key sharply on the iron +door.</p> + +<p>“There he waits,” said the baron, “and—did you ever see +him?”</p> + +<p>“No.”</p> + +<p>“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?”</p> + +<p>“Accurately.”</p> + +<p>“Well, there is some little sense in it, after all. You shall +see.”</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>“Hé! you see,” said the baron, pointing with his key, “my +mummies are cased in hieroglyphics. Come! <em>Here</em> is the +number, the date, and the man.”</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>“You are quite sure of the identity of this?” 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, “Yelland Mace, suspect for his politics, +May 2nd, 1844.”</p> + +<p>“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?”</p> + +<p>“Yes, in cypher.”</p> + +<p>“And in what language?”</p> + +<p>“German.”</p> + +<p>David Arden looked at it.</p> + +<p>“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 <em>friends</em>; this being secret.”</p> + +<p>“Secret?—oh!” said Uncle David.</p> + +<p>“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!”</p> + +<p>“Yes, I promise that also,” said Uncle David dryly, and to +himself he thought, “What a consummate old scoundrel!”</p> + +<p>“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.”</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>“Please, Sir, walk with me into this room. Ay, so. Here +are the <em>resurrections</em>. Will you be good enough—L, Longcluse, +M, one, two, three, four; <em>three</em>, yes, to hold this candlestick for +a moment?”</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>“Yes, right, Walter Longcluse. I tell you how you will see it +best: there is brilliant moonlight, stand there.”</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>“You see it—you know it! Ha! ha! His pretty face!”</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>“There is no doubt about <em>that</em>. But when was it taken? +Will you read what is written upon it?”</p> + +<p>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.”</p> + +<p>“The same year in which Mace's was taken?”</p> + +<p>“So it is, 1844.”</p> + +<p>“But there is a great deal more than you have read, written +upon the parchment in this one.”</p> + +<p>“It looks more.”</p> + +<p>“And <em>is</em> more. Why, count the words, one, two, <ins title="four">four,</ins> six, +eight. There must be thirty, or upwards.”</p> + +<p>“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.”</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>“Set the candle on this table,” says he. “I'll light another +for a time. See all the trouble and time you cost me!”</p> + +<p>He placed the two boxes on the table.</p> + +<p>“I am extremely sorry<span style="white-space: nowrap;">——</span>”</p> + +<p>“Not on my account, you needn't. You'll pay me well for +it.”</p> + +<p>“So I will, Baron.”</p> + +<p>“Sit you down on that, Monsieur.”</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—</p> + +<p>“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.</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">“You</span> 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?”</p> + +<p>This abrupt invitation Mr. Arden civilly declined.</p> + +<p>“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.</p> + +<p>“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! <i lang="la" xml:lang="la">mutat terra +vices!</i> Come, we shall look at these again, and you shall hear +more.”</p> + +<p>He placed the two masks upon the chimney-piece, leaning +against the wall.</p> + +<p>“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.</p> + +<p>“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?”</p> + +<p><a class="pagenum" name="Page_377" title="377"> </a>“Nothing. Is he living?”</p> + +<p>“Suppose he is dead, what then?”</p> + +<p>“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?”</p> + +<p>“A very intimate correspondence,” said the baron.</p> + +<p>“Of what nature?”</p> + +<p>“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!”</p> + +<p>“And in crime, you say?”</p> + +<p>“Ay, in crime—in all things.”</p> + +<p>“Is Yelland Mace still living?” urged David Arden.</p> + +<p>“Those features, in life, you will never behold, Sir.”</p> + +<p>“He is dead. You said that you took that mask from among +the dead. <em>Is</em> he dead?”</p> + +<p>“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?”</p> + +<p>“Very highly, provided he may be secured and brought to +trial; and you, Baron, must arrange to give your testimony to +prove his identity.”</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>“I rely upon your aid, Baron,” said Mr. Arden, who was becoming +agitated. “Your trouble shall be recompensed; you +may depend upon my honour.”</p> + +<p>“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.”</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>“I understood, Baron, that you had quite made up your mind +to retire within a very few weeks,” said David Arden.</p> + +<p>“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—you understand. Bah! you are no fool; it is <ins title="plain.">plain,</ins> +all I sacrifice.”</p> + +<p>“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?”</p> + +<p>“I never trouble my head about details; it is enough, the +man is a political refugee, and his object concealment.”</p> + +<p>“But he was no political refugee; he had nothing to do with +politics—he was simply a murderer and a robber.”</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>“And Mr. Longcluse, was <em>he</em> your patient also?”</p> + +<p>“Ha! to be sure he was. You won't drink some beer? No; +well, in a moment.”</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>“I will tell you something concerning those gentlemen, Mr. +Longcluse and Mr. Mace, which may amuse you. Listen.”</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">“My</span> 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 <em>there</em> exactly what I saw.”</p> + +<p>He extended his hand toward the mask of Yelland Mace.</p> + +<p>“‘You are an Austrian,’ I said, ‘a native subject of the +empire?’</p> + +<p>“‘Yes.’</p> + +<p>“‘Italian?’</p> + +<p>“‘No.’</p> + +<p>“‘Hungarian?’</p> + +<p>“‘No.’</p> + +<p>“‘Well, you are not <em>German</em>—ha, ha!—I can swear to that.’</p> + +<p>“He was speaking to me in German.</p> + +<p>“‘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?’”</p> + +<p><a class="pagenum" name="Page_380" title="380"> </a>“You were not a statuary?” said Uncle David, astonished at +his versatility.</p> + +<p>“Oh, yes! A statuary, but only in grotesque, you understand. +I will show you some of my work by-and-by.”</p> + +<p>“And I shall perhaps understand.”</p> + +<p>“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—it +was Yelland Mace. <em>That</em> is Yelland Mace.”</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, “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?”</p> + +<p>“I confess, Baron, I do not.”</p> + +<p>“You shall, however. Here is the case—a political refugee, +like Monsieur Yelland Mace<span style="white-space: nowrap;">——</span>”</p> + +<p>“But he was no such thing.”</p> + +<p>“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?”</p> + +<p>“Yes, I do! I think I understand you clearly. But, Lord +bless me! what a nefarious trade!” exclaimed Uncle David.</p> + +<p>The baron was not offended; he laughed.</p> + +<p>“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?”</p> + +<p>Uncle David did not care to discuss this point in ethics, but +simply said,—</p> + +<p>“And Mr. Longcluse was also a patient of yours?”</p> + +<p>“Yes, certainly,” said the baron.</p> + +<p><a class="pagenum" name="Page_381" title="381"> </a>“We Londoners know nothing of his history,” said Mr. +Arden.</p> + +<p>“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; <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.”</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>“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'œil</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.” (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 +<a class="pagenum" name="Page_382" title="382"> </a> +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!”</p> + +<p>“You mean to say that Yelland Mace and Walter Longcluse +are the same person?” cried David Arden, starting to his feet.</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>“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.</p> + +<p>“Ay, the masks and the witness to explain them,” said the +baron, sturdily.</p> + +<p>“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!”</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>“Certainly.”</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>“I don't think, Baron, you can be serious,” said Mr. Arden, +as soon as he had recovered breath.</p> + +<p>“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?”</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, “Do you like my offer?”</p> + +<p>“Certainly not, Sir,” said David Arden, sternly.</p> + +<p><a class="pagenum" name="Page_383" title="383"> </a>“Then <em>was</em> 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.</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.”">tell.</ins></p> + +<p>“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?”</p> + +<p>“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?”</p> + +<p>“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.”</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, “I shall have advice, and you shall +<em>most certainly</em> hear from me again.”</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, “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.</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>“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!”</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,—</p> + +<p>“How d'ye do, Mr. Longcluse?”</p> + +<p>The gentleman stops, smiles, and shrugs.</p> + +<p>“Pardon, Monsieur,” he says in French, “I do not speak +English or German.”</p> + +<p>The quality of the voice that spoke these words was, he +thought, different from Mr. Longcluse's—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>“I believe I have made a mistake, Sir,” 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,—</p> + +<p>“I thought, Monsieur, I had met you before in England.”</p> + +<p>“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 <em>there</em>.”</p> + +<p>He pauses politely.</p> + +<p><a class="pagenum" name="Page_386" title="386"> </a>“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 <em>are</em> Mr. Longcluse.”</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,—</p> + +<p>“Monsieur must not trouble himself of having made a +mistake: my name is St. Ange.”</p> + +<p>“I believe I <em>have</em> made a mistake, Monsieur—pray excuse +me.”</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>“Monsieur!” says he a little grimly, drawing himself up as +he comes to a sudden halt.</p> + +<p>“The impression has forced itself upon me again that you +<em>are</em> no other than Mr. Walter Longcluse,” says Uncle David.</p> + +<p>The tall gentleman recovered his good-humour, and smiled +as before, with a shrug.</p> + +<p>“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, +<a class="pagenum" name="Page_387" title="387"> </a> +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.”</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>“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.”</p> + +<p>“Not one, pray,” replies the Frenchman, with great good-humour +and gaiety. “I felicitate myself on a mistake which +promises to result so happily.”</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—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, +“Take care!”</p> + +<p>David Arden stopped short.</p> + +<p>“Eh, bien?” said his polite companion, stopping simultaneously, +and staring in his face a little grimly.</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>“Surely Monsieur will not disappoint me—surely Monsieur is +<a class="pagenum" name="Page_389" title="389"> </a> +not going to treat me so oddly?” expostulated Monsieur St. +Ange.</p> + +<p>“Good-night, Sir. Farewell!” 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—whether there is a weapon in it, I know not; but he +exclaims fiercely,—</p> + +<p>“Ha! robber! my purse!”</p> + +<p>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!”</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:—</p> + +<blockquote> +<p class="larger-indent">“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">“Emmanuel Vanboeren.”</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 “matrices” 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:—</p> + +<blockquote> +<p>“From Monsieur David Arden, etc., to Monsieur Blount, +5 Manchester Buildings, Westminster, London.</p> + +<p>“Pray telegraph immediately to say whether Mr. Longcluse is at his +house, Bolton Street, Piccadilly.”</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—</p> + +<blockquote> +<p>“Mr. Longcluse is ill at his house at Richmond—better to-day.”</p> +</blockquote> + +<p>To this promptly he replied—</p> + +<blockquote> +<p>“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.”</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:—</p> + +<blockquote> +<p>“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.”</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 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.</p> + +<p>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.”</p> + +<p>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 +<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>“The Lord be thanked, that's over and done!” she exclaims, +with a face pale from excitement.</p> + +<p>“Sit down, Phœbe; you are trembling; you must drink a +little water. Are you well?”</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>“Go on; I recollect perfectly.”</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>“I understand; go on, Phœbe.”</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>“It was kind of you not to tell me; go on,” said the young +lady.</p> + +<p>“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 +<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—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.”</p> + +<p>By this time the girl was on her knees, concealing the key +between the beds, with the others.</p> + +<p>“Thank God, Phœbe, you have got it! But, oh! all that is +before us still!”</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>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 +<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>“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?”</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>“Wha'at letter?”</p> + +<p>“The letter you gave me last night for her.”</p> + +<p>“O-oh! Ah! I wonder—eh? Do you happen to know +what wa'azh in that ere letter?” he asked, in an insinuating +whisper.</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>“Well, I don't want to know, <em>I'm</em> sure. Did she talk of going +out of doors since?”</p> + +<p>“No; there's a frost in the hair still, and she says till that's +gone she won't stir out.”</p> + +<p>“That frost will last a bit, I guess. Any more newshe?”</p> + +<p>“Nothing.”</p> + +<p>“Wait a minute 'ere,” 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>“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, +<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.”</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>“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.”</p> + +<p>The girl curtseyed, and said “Yes, Sir,” at the second effort, +for she was startled. He had taken out and opened his pocket-book.</p> + +<p>“Here are <em>ten</em> 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.</p> + +<p>“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.”</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>“You gave Miss Arden a letter last night. You know what +was in it?”</p> + +<p>“Yes, Sir.”</p> + +<p>“What was it?”</p> + +<p>“An offer of marriage from you, Sir.”</p> + +<p>“Yes: how do you know that?”</p> + +<p>“She told me, please, Sir.”</p> + +<p>“How did she take it? Come, don't be afraid.”</p> + +<p>“I'd say it pleased her well, Sir.”</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>“Yes; it <em>is</em> the best way out of her troubles; she begins to +see that,” he said, with a strange smile.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>“You will receive some directions from Mr. Levi; take care +you understand and execute them.”</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> 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.</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 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.</p> + +<p>Her young mistress got up and approached her, also growing +pale, for she perceived that danger was at the door.</p> + +<p>“I wish there was bolts to these doors. They've got other +keys. Never mind; I know it all <ins title="know">now</ins>,” 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.”</p> + +<p>“For God's sake, what is it?” said Alice faintly, her eyes +gazing wider and wider, and her very lips growing white.</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>“Yes; quite strong, Phœbe. Are we to leave this?”</p> + +<p><a class="pagenum" name="Page_400" title="400"> </a>“I hope, Miss. We can but try.”</p> + +<p>“There's light, Phœbe,” she said, glancing with a shiver from +the window. “It's a bright night.”</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>“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!”</p> + +<p>“La, bless you child! why that parson had his two pen'orth +long ago, and spends half his nights in the lock-up.”</p> + +<p>“I don't understand, Phœbe.”</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>“We must get away! I'll lose my life, or I'll escape!”</p> + +<p>Phœbe looked at her in silence. I think she was measuring +her strength, and her nerve, for the undertaking.</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>After a moment's search on her knees, she produced +them.</p> + +<p>“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—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?”</p> + +<p>Alice did perfectly.</p> + +<p>“Hish-sh!” said the maid, with a prolonged caution.</p> + +<p>A dead silence followed; for a minute—several minutes neither +seemed to breathe.</p> + +<p>Phœbe whispered at length—</p> + +<p>“<em>Now</em>, Miss, are you ready?”</p> + +<p>“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.</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. Phœbe 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>“Eh! Mr. Vargers, smoking after <em>all</em> I said to you!” murmured +Miss Phœbe severely, advancing toward her round-shouldered +sweetheart, with her finger raised.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>Vargers stood up suddenly.</p> + +<p><a class="pagenum" name="Page_402" title="402"> </a>“Hullo! what's gone with the door there?” 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 Phœbe was quick-witted +and prompt, and saying, in hushed tones—</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>“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.</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, “And now for the favour, Mr. Vargers: you must +let me down to the kitchen for five minutes.”</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 “swells” 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—</p> + +<p>“What's the row?”</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>“Well, Mr. Boult, and what <em>is</em> 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 +<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>“What's the row?—<em>you're</em> the row! What brings you down +here, Miss Chivvige?”</p> + +<p>“My legs! There's your answer, you cross boy.” She +laughed wheedlingly.</p> + +<p>“Then walk you up again, and be d—d.”</p> + +<p>“On! Mr. Boult.”</p> + +<p>“P! Miss Phibbie.”</p> + +<p>Mr. Boult was speaking thick, and plainly was in no mood to +stand nonsense.</p> + +<p>“Now Mr. Boult, where's the good of making yourself disagreeable?”</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>“All the more need to be quick, Mr. Boult, Sir, and why will +you keep me 'ere talking?” she replies.</p> + +<p>“You'll go up them 'ere stairs, young 'oman; you'll not put a +foot in the kitchen to-night,” he says more doggedly.</p> + +<p>“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.’”</p> + +<p>“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 <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!”</p> + +<p>With which magnanimous sentiment he turned on his clumsy +heel, and entered his apartment again.</p> + +<p>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 +<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>“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.</p> + +<p>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.</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 Phœbe 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 +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 +<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>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.</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>“I'm better, Phœbe; I'm quite well again. Come on—come +on!”</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>“Which way?”</p> + +<p>“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?”</p> + +<p>“To my Uncle David's house.”</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—</p> + +<p>“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?”</p> + +<p>“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 <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.” And he clenched his vehement disclaimer with +an imprecation.</p> + +<p>Longcluse was silent for a minute.</p> + +<p>“She has gone, I assume, to David Arden's house,” he said, +looking down. “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.”</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>“Let no one in,” said Longcluse sternly to the man, who +locked the iron gate on their passing out.</p> + +<p>“Hallo! What brings <em>her</em> here? That's the old housekeeper!” +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>“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.</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. +“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?”</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>“Sir Richard Arden is at the door, and he wants to know +whether his sister, Miss Arden, has arrived here from Mortlake.”</p> + +<p>“Yes, Sir; she's up-stairs; but not by no means well, Sir.”</p> + +<p>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.</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>“Oh! Mr. Arden?” says Longcluse, advancing as if he had +come in search of him.</p> + +<p>“That's enough, Sir,” cries Mr. Arden, extending his hand +peremptorily toward him; and he adds, with a glance at the +constables, “<em>There's</em> the man. That is Walter Longcluse.”</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, “What is the +meaning of all this?”</p> + +<p>“A warrant, Sir,” answers the foremost policeman, clutching +him by the collar.</p> + +<p>“No use, Sir, making a row,” expostulates the next, also +catching him by the collar and arm.</p> + +<p>“Mr. Arden, can you explain this?” says Mr. Longcluse +coolly.</p> + +<p>“You may as well give in quiet,” says the third policeman, +producing the warrant. “A warrant for murder. Walter Longcluse, +<i lang="la" xml:lang="la">alias</i> Yelland Mace, I arrest you in the Queen's name.”</p> + +<p>“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?”</p> + +<p>“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.</p> + +<p>“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?”</p> + +<p>“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.</p> + +<p>“You'll send for my attorney, of course? I'm not to be humbugged, +you know.”</p> + +<p>“I must tell you, Mr. Longcluse, I can't listen to such +language,” observes Mr. Harman sublimely.</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>“The informations are very strong, Sir, and the offence, you +know as well as I do, Mr. Longcluse, is not bailable.”</p> + +<p>Mr. Longcluse shrugged, and laughed gently.</p> + +<p>“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?”</p> + +<p>“You can sit in the study, if you please,” 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>“I don't want any man taken by surprise or at disadvantage; +I simply wish for truth,” 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>“Do you despair?” asked Mr. Longcluse sharply, after a long +disquisition.</p> + +<p>“Let me ask you one question, Mr. Longcluse. You have, +before I ask it, I assume, implicit confidence in us; am I +right?”</p> + +<p>“Certainly—implicit.”</p> + +<p>“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.</p> + +<p>“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.”</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>“One effect of a judgment in this case is forfeiture?” inquired +Mr. Longcluse.</p> + +<p>“Yes,” answered counsel.</p> + +<p>“Everything goes to the Crown, eh?”</p> + +<p>“Yes; clearly.”</p> + +<p>“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?”</p> + +<p>“Certainly,” said Mr. Blinkinsop. “No judgment no forfeiture.”</p> + +<p>“And now, Doctor, don't be afraid; tell me truly, shall I <em>do</em>?” +said Mr. Longcluse, leaning back, and looking darkly and +steadily in his face.</p> + +<p>“It is a nasty case.”</p> + +<p>“Don't be afraid, I say. I should like to know, are the +chances two to one against me?”</p> + +<p>“I'm afraid they are.”</p> + +<p>“Ten to one? Pray say what you think.”</p> + +<p>“Well, I think so.”</p> + +<p>Mr. Longcluse grew paler. They were all three silent. After +about a minute, he said, in a very low tone,—</p> + +<p>“You don't think I have a chance? Don't mislead me.”</p> + +<p>“It is very gloomy.”</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>“We must make a great fight of this,” said Mr. Longcluse +suddenly. “We'll fight it hard; we must win it. We <em>shall</em> win +it, by<span style="white-space: nowrap;">——</span>”</p> + +<p>And after a short pause, he added gently,—</p> + +<p>“That will do. I think I'll rest now; more, perhaps, another +time. Good-bye.”</p> + +<p>As they left the room, he signed to the attorney to stay.</p> + +<p>“I have something for you—a word or two.”</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>“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.”</p> + +<p>“It is not any <em>legal</em> paper<span style="white-space: nowrap;">——</span>” began Sir Richard.</p> + +<p>“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?”</p> + +<p>“No; what is it?”</p> + +<p>“Oh, dear, really! They have heard it some time at Mr. +Arden's. You didn't hear about Mr. Longcluse?”</p> + +<p>“No, nothing, excepting what we all know—his arrest.”</p> + +<p>The attorney's countenance darkened, and he said, dropping +his voice as low as he would have given a message in church—</p> + +<p>“Oh, poor gentleman! he died to-day. Some kind of fit, I +believe; he's gone!”</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, “Has Levi got hold of that instrument of torture and +ruin—the forged signature?”</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—</p> + +<blockquote> +<p>“Paid by W. Longcluse before due.</p> + +<p class="right small-caps">“W. Longcluse.”</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—</p> + +<blockquote> +<p>“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>“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>“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>“My life has been arduous and direful. That miserable crime hung +over me, and its dangers impeded me at every turn.</p> + +<p>“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">“Walter Longcluse.”</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—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 <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 “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.</p> + +<p>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, +<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>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.</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/> +“<span class="correction">Oh</span> oh! very good. And now, Sir,” he said, in rising<br/> +“<span class="correction">Oh,</span> oh! very good. And now, Sir,” he said, in rising +</li> +<li><a href="#Page_49">Page 49</a>:<br/> +“You know him, <span class="correction">Mr</span> Darnley?” inquired Lady May.<br/> +“You know him, <span class="correction">Mr.</span> Darnley?” inquired Lady May. +</li> +<li><a href="#Page_50">Page 50</a>:<br/> +“Why should it?” laughed Vivian Darnley, partly to <span class="correction">cover</span><br/> +“Why should it?” 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:—”<br/> +<span class="correction">deceased</span>; the particulars were as follows:—” +</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>”<br/> +here again, slam it in his face. I have done with him for <span class="correction">ever!</span>” +</li> +<li><a href="#Page_83">Page 83</a>:<br/> +thimbleful of something. What has frightened <span class="correction">you!</span>”<br/> +thimbleful of something. What has frightened <span class="correction">you?</span>” +</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>”<br/> +that party to the <span class="correction">Derby.</span>” +</li> +<li><a href="#Page_96">Page 96</a>:<br/> +“I believe,” said Mr. Longcluse, with a <span class="correction">laugh.</span> “I<br/> +“I believe,” said Mr. Longcluse, with a <span class="correction">laugh,</span> “I +</li> +<li><a href="#Page_98">Page 98</a>:<br/> +“Yes, a little, perhaps. Don't <span class="correction">you.</span>”<br/> +“Yes, a little, perhaps. Don't <span class="correction">you?</span>” +</li> +<li><a href="#Page_105">Page 105</a>:<br/> +world, I'm <span class="correction">thinking'</span>,” she answered dolorously.<br/> +world, I'm <span class="correction">thinking</span>,” 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/> +“Do you know that gentleman's <span class="correction">name!</span>”<br/> +“Do you know that gentleman's <span class="correction">name?</span>” +</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.”<br/> +and we <em>must</em> drop <span class="correction">him.</span> And now, darling, good-bye.” +</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/> +“Yes, she was here; she came with Lady <span class="correction">Tramways</span>. They<br/> +“Yes, she was here; she came with Lady <span class="correction">Tramway</span>. They +</li> +<li><a href="#Page_177">Page 177</a>:<br/> +“Now, Sir, you'll be so good as <span class="correction">to to</span> observe that you have<br/> +“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.”</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;">——</span> Here we are at the <span class="correction">hall-door</span> Don't<br/> +the chase, and<span style="white-space: nowrap;">——</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,” he screamed, dashing his hand on the table, at the <span class="correction">other</span><br/> +you,” 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/> +“No, dear, never mind him—he's well enough.” <span class="correction">David,</span><br/> +“No, dear, never mind him—he's well enough.” <span class="correction">David</span> +</li> +<li><a href="#Page_227">Page 227</a>:<br/> +hanged, “losht sheven pound sheventeen, ash <span class="correction">I m</span> a<br/> +hanged, “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?”</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—that says he'll stay <span class="correction">still</span> your Uncle David<br/> +Plumes is his name—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:—<br/> +Lady May Penrose a note, in the <span class="correction">following</span> terms:— +</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?”<br/> +murdered here in London, was, I <span class="correction">believe,</span> in your employment?” +</li> +<li><a href="#Page_279">Page 279</a>:<br/> +“I am in London, Sir, ubon my business, and no one else's. <span class="correction">I I</span><br/> +“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—I'll stand <span class="correction">t</span>—and I don't think he'll need<br/> +or where he likes—I'll stand <span class="correction">it</span>—and I don't think he'll need +</li> +<li><a href="#Page_293">Page 293</a>:<br/> +“Yes, as <span class="correction">were</span> driving into town to-day, Uncle David told me<br/> +“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, ‘My<br/> +think she would marry me at <span class="correction">all.</span> Isn't it better to say, ‘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.”</span><br/> +Lonclushe <span class="correction">harmlesh.’”</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">“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>: “do now, you're sure to see<br/> +all this time towards the <span class="correction">candles)</span>: “do now, you're sure to see +</li> +<li><a href="#Page_319">Page 319</a>:<br/> +<span class="correction">think?</span>”<br/> +<span class="correction">think!</span>” +</li> +<li><a href="#Page_321">Page 321</a>:<br/> +<span class="correction">withhish</span> name shined to it. There, now you have everything.”<br/> +<span class="correction">with hish</span> name shined to it. There, now you have everything.” +</li> +<li><a href="#Page_329">Page 329</a>:<br/> +friends will <span class="correction">laugh?</span>”<br/> +friends will <span class="correction">laugh!</span>” +</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!” she says<br/> +<span class="correction">you</span> told Miss Alice you'd not be here till to-morrow!” 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>”<br/> +you look ill and unhappy: what's the <span class="correction">matter?</span>” +</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/> +“But you talk of bringing me face to face <span class="correction">withthem</span>; how<br/> +“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/> +“No, in <span class="correction">the the</span> solid. Here is the key of the catacombs.”<br/> +“No, in <span class="correction">the</span> solid. Here is the key of the catacombs.” +</li> +<li><a href="#Page_372">Page 372</a>:<br/> +“Bah! what a wise <span class="correction">man</span> Then I may show you whom I<br/> +“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/> +“And <em>is</em> more. Why, count the words, one, two, <span class="correction">four</span> six,<br/> +“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—you understand. Bah! you are no fool; it is <span class="correction">plain.</span><br/> +You see—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.”</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>,” she whispered, as she<br/> +keys. Never mind; I know it all <span class="correction">now</span>,” 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 + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK CHECKMATE *** + +***** This file should be named 38460-h.htm or 38460-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/3/8/4/6/38460/ + +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) + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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