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diff --git a/42498-0.txt b/42498-0.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..510050e --- /dev/null +++ b/42498-0.txt @@ -0,0 +1,5195 @@ +*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 42498 *** + +Transcriber's Notes: + + 1. Page scan source: + http://books.google.com/books?id=hT4VAAAAQAAJ + (Oxford University) + + 2. The diphthong oe is represented by [oe]. + + + + + + MIRACLE GOLD. + + + + + + + New Novels at the Libraries. + + * * * * * + + MARVEL. By the Author of "Molly Bawn." 3 vols. + FOR FREEDOM. By TIGHE HOPKINS. 2 vols. + MOLLY'S STORY; a Family History. 3 vols. + AN ADVENTURESS. 2 vols. + LADY STELLA AND HER LOVER. 3 vols. + ONE MAID'S MISCHIEF. By G. M. FENN. 3 vols. + UNCLE BOB'S NIECE. By LESLIE KEITH. 3 vols. + A VOICE IN THE WILDERNESS. By C. FOTHERGILL. 3 vols. + + * * * * * + + WARD & DOWNEY, PUBLISHERS, LONDON. + + + + + + + MIRACLE GOLD. + + + A Novel. + + + + + + BY + + RICHARD DOWLING, + + AUTHOR OF + + "The Mystery of Killard," "The Weird Sisters," + "Tempest Driven," "Under St. Paul's," &c. + + + + + _IN THREE VOLUMES_. + + + VOL. I. + + + + + + LONDON: + + WARD AND DOWNEY, + + 12, YORK STREET, COVENT GARDEN, W.C. + + 1888. + + [_All rights reserved_.] + + + + + + + PRINTED BY + KELLY AND CO., GATE STREET, LINCOLN'S INN FIELDS, + AND KINGSTON-ON-THAMES. + + + + + + + CONTENTS. + + + CHAP. + + I.--Too Late. + + II.--Voices of the Unseen. + + III.--An Offer of Marriage. + + IV.--On The Wing. + + V.--Mr. Leigh's Deputy. + + VI.--Oscar Leigh's Cave of Magic. + + VII.--The Negro Juggler. + + VIII.--The Juggler's Last Feat. + + IX.--"Only a Woman." + + X.--Leigh Promises One Visit and Pays Another. + + XI.--Stranger than Miracle Gold. + + XII.--An Omen. + + + + + + + MIRACLE GOLD. + + + + + + + MIRACLE GOLD. + + + + + CHAPTER I + + TOO LATE. + + +"The 8.45 for London, miss? Just gone. Gone two or three minutes. It's +the last train up to town this evening, miss. First in the morning at +6.15, miss." + +"Gone!" cried the girl in despair. She reached out her hand and caught +one of the wooden pillars supporting the roof of the little station at +Millway, near the south-east coast of England. + +"Yes, miss, gone," said the porter. He was inclined to be very civil +and communicative, for the last train for London had left, the +enquirer seemed in great distress, and she was young and beautiful. +"Any luggage, miss? If you have you can leave it in the cloak-room +till the first train to-morrow. The first train leaves here at a +quarter past six." + +She did not speak. She looked up and down the platform, with dazed, +bewildered eyes. Her lips were drawn back and slightly parted. She +still kept her hand on the wooden pillar. She seemed more afraid of +becoming weak than in a state of present weakness. + +The porter, who was young and good-looking, and a very great admirer +of female charms, thought the girl was growing faint. He said: "If you +like, miss, you can sit down in the waiting-room and rest there." + +She turned her eyes upon him without appearing to see him, and shook +her head in mechanical refusal of his suggestion. She had no fear of +fainting. For a moment her mental powers were prostrated, but her +physical force was in no danger of giving way. With a start and a +shiver, she recovered enough presence of mind to realize her position +on the platform, and the appearance she must be making in the eyes of +the polite and well-disposed railway porter. + +"Thank you, I have no luggage--with me." She looked around +apprehensively, as though dreading pursuit. + +"Would you like me to call a fly for you, miss?" + +"No. Oh, no!" she cried, starting back from him in alarm. Then seeing +the man retire a pace with a look of surprise and disappointment, she +added hastily, "I do not want a cab, thank you. It is most unfortunate +that I missed the train. Is it raining still?" + +"Yes, miss; heavy." + +From where she stood she could have seen the rain falling on the +metals and ballast of the line; she was absolutely looking through the +rain as she asked the question, but she was in that half-awakened +condition when one asks questions and hears answers without interest +in the one or attention to the other. She knew heavy summer rain was +falling and had been falling for more than an hour; she knew that she +had walked two miles through the rain with only a light summer cloak +and small umbrella to protect her from it, and she knew that she could +not use a cab or fly for two reasons; first, she could not spare the +money; second, she durst not drive back, if back she must go, for she +must return unperceived. When she thought of getting back, and the +reason for concealment, an expression of disgust came over her face, +and she shuddered as one shudders at a loathsome sight unexpectedly +encountered. + +The porter lingered in the hope of being of use. He had no mercenary +motive. He wanted merely to remain as long as possible near this +beautiful girl. He would have done any service he could for her merely +that he might come and go near where she stood, within the magic +radius of her eyes. Even railway porters, when they are in quiet +stations, are no more than other men in the presence of the beauty of +woman. + +It was almost dark now. Nine o'clock had struck. The straight warm +rain was falling through the dusky, windless air. It was an evening +towards the end of June--the last Wednesday of that month. There was +not a sound but the dull muffling beat of the rain upon the roof. Not +a soul visible but the girl and porter. + +She took her hand away from the wooden pillar, and gathered her cloak +round her, in preparation for going. + +"Can I do anything for you, miss? Have you far to walk?" asked the +man. Offering service was the nearest thing he could do to rendering +service. + +She did not answer his question; she asked instead: "Do you think the +rain will stop soon?" + +He glanced at the thin line of dull, dark, leaden sky, visible from +where he stood at a low angle between the roofs of the platform. "No, +miss, I don't think it will. It looks as if 'twould rain all night." +If she had been a plain girl of the dumpy order, or his own degree, he +would have tried to make himself agreeable by prophesying pleasant +things. But the high privilege of answering so exquisitely beautiful a +young lady demanded a sacrifice of some kind, and he laid aside his +desire to be considered an agreeable fellow, and said what he believed +to be the truth. + +She sighed, moved her shoulders under the cloak to settle it, and +saying "Thank you," in a listless, half-awake way, moved with down +dropped eyes and drooping head, slowly out of the station, raised her +umbrella and, turning sharply to the left, walked through the little +town of Millway and under the huge beeches of a broad, deserted road +leading southward. + +The trees above her head were heavy with leaves, the road was very +dim, almost dark, this night of midsummer. The perpendicular rain fell +unseen through the mute warm evening. A thick perfume of multitudinous +roses made the soft air heavy with richness. No sound reached the +young girl but the faint clatter of the rain upon the viewless leaves +overhead, the pit and splash of the huge drops from the leaves close +to her feet, and the wide, even, incessant dull drumming of the shower +upon the trees, looming dimly abroad in the vapourous azure dusk of +the dark. + +After walking a while the girl sighed and paused. Although her pace +had not been quick, she felt her breath come short. The mild, moist, +scent-laden air seemed too rich for freshening life and cooling the +blood. She was tired, and would have liked to sit down and rest, but +neither time nor place allowed of pause. She must get on--she must get +back as quickly as possible, or she might be too late, too late to +regain Eltham House and steal unperceived to her room there. To that +hateful Eltham House, under which to-night rested that odious Oscar +Leigh. Oscar Leigh, the grinning, bold, audacious man. + +Edith Grace turned her attention for a moment away from her thoughts +to her physical situation and condition. She listened intently. She +heard the patter of the rain near and the murmur of it abroad upon +grass and trees. But there was some other sound. A sound nearer still +than the patter at her feet, and more loud and distinct, and emphatic +and tumultuous, than the roll of the shower far away. + +For a while she listened, catching her breath in fear, not knowing +what this sound could be. Then she started. It was much nearer than +she thought. It was the heavy, fierce, irregular beating of her own +heart. + +At first she was alarmed by the discovery. She had never felt her +heart beat in this way before, except after running when a child. Upon +reflection she recollected that nervous excitement sometimes brought +on such unpleasant symptoms, and that the best way to overcome the +affection was by keeping still and avoiding alarm of any kind. She +would stand and, instead of thinking about the unpleasantness and risk +of going back to Eltham House, fix her mind upon the events which +prompted her flight. She could not hope to keep her mind free from +considering her present position, and the occurrences leading to it, +but it is less distressing to review the unpleasant past than to +contemplate a lowering immediate future. + +Owing to the loss of the little money left her by her father, she had +been obliged to try and get something to do, as she could not consent +to encroach on the slender income of her grandmother, Mrs. Grace, the +only relative she had in the world. As she had been so long with Mrs. +Grace, she thought the thing to suit her best would be a companionship +to an elderly or invalid lady. She advertised in the daily papers, and +the most promising-looking reply came from Mr. Oscar Leigh, of Eltham +House, Millway, who wanted a companion for his infirm mother. Mr. +Leigh could not give much salary, but if advertiser took the +situation, she would have a thoroughly comfortable and highly +respectable home. Mr. Leigh could make an appointment for a meeting in +London. + +The meeting took place at Mrs. Grace's lodgings in Grimsby Street, +Westminster, and although Miss Grace shrank from the appearance and +manners of Mr. Leigh, she accepted the situation. The poor old +grandmother was so much overcome by the notion of impending separation +between her and Edith, that she took no particular notice of Mr. +Leigh, and looked upon him simply as a man indifferent to her, save +that he was arranging to carry beyond her sight the girl she had +brought up, and who now stood in the place of her own dead children +who had clung to her knees in their curly-headed childhood, grown-up, +and long since passed away for ever. + +Mr. Oscar Leigh was very short, and had shoulders of unequal height, +and a slight hunch on his back. His face was long and cadaverous, and +hollow-cheeked. The eyes small and black, and piercingly bright. His +expression was saturnine, sinister, cruel; his look at one and the +same time furtive and bold. His arms were long to deformity. His hands +and fingers long, and thin, and bony, and where they were not covered +with lank, shining black hair, they were of a dull brown yellow +colour. His teeth were fang-like and yellow. His voice hollow when he +spoke low, and harsh when he raised it. His breath came in short gasps +now and then, and with sounds, as though it disturbed dry bones in its +course. He drooped towards the right side, and carried a short and +unusually thick stick, with huge rugged and battered crook. When he +stood still for any time, he leant upon this stick, keeping his +skinny, greedy, claw-like hand on the crook, and the crook close +against his right side. He wore a glossy silk hat, a spotless black +frock coat, and moved through a vapour of eau-de-cologne. His feet +were large, out of all proportion to the largest man. They were flat, +with no insteps, more like a monkey's than a man's. She would have +pitied him only for his impudent glances. She would have loathed him +only she could not forget that his deformities were deserving of pity. + +"You will have one unpleasantness to endure," he had said. "You will +have to make your mind up to one cruel privation." He smiled a hard, +cruel, evil smile. + +"May I know what my child will have to do without?" asked Mrs. Grace. +And then, without waiting for an answer, she said: "I know what _I_ +shall have to do without." + +"And what is that, madam? What will you have to do without?" + +"I shall have to do without _her_." + +"Ah, that _would_ be a loss," he said, with hideous, offensive +gallantry. "You are to be pitied, madam. You are, indeed, to be +pitied, madam. Miss Grace will have to make up her mind on her side to +do without----" + +"Me; I know it," broke in the old woman, bursting into tears. + +"Yes, madam; but that is not what I was going to say. I was about to +say your granddaughter will have to do without _me!_" Here he leered +at Edith. "I am much occupied with my mechanical studies in London, +and am seldom at Eltham House. I hope you may be always able in your +heart to do without _me_." He was standing leaning his misshapen, +crooked body on his misshapen, crooked stick. He did not move his +right hand from his waist, into which it was packed and driven by the +weight of his body upon the handle of the stick. He put his long, +lean, left, dark hand on his right breast, and bowed low by swinging +himself to the right and downward on the crook of his stick. "Miss +Grace will see, oh! so little of me," he added, as he rose and looked +with his bold eyes at Edith and her grandmother. + +"Oh!" cried the unhappy, tactless old woman, "I dare say she can +manage that." + +"I dare say she can," he said, gazing at Edith with eyes in which +boldness and scorn seemed strangely, abominably blended, or rather +conflicting. + +At the time she felt she could cry for joy at the notion of seeing +little of this hideous, deformed, monstrous dwarf. + +The bargain was there and then completed, and it had been arranged +that she should go to Eltham House that day week. + +This night that was now upon her and around her, this dull, dark, +heavy-perfumed, rain-drowned midsummer night, was the night of that +day week. Only one week lay between the visit of this hunchback to +their place in Grimsby Street, Westminster, and this day. This morning +she had left London and seen Millway for the first time in her life. +She had got there at noon and driven straight to Eltham House, two +miles south of the little coast town. The hire of the cab had made +considerable inroad on the money in her pocket. The sum was now +reduced to only a few pence more than her mere train fare to +London--not allowing even for a cab from Victoria Terminus to Grimsby +Street, Westminster. When she got to Victoria she should have to walk +home. Oh! walking home through the familiar streets thronged with +everyday folk, would be so delightful compared with this bleak, +solitary Eltham House, this hideous, insolent, monstrous, deformed +dwarf. + +It was impossible for her to stay at Eltham House, utterly impossible. +This man Leigh had told her he should see little or nothing of her at +the place, and yet when she reached the house his was the first face +and figure she laid eyes on. He had opened the door for her and +welcomed her to Eltham House, and on the very threshold he had +attempted to kiss her! Great heavens! it was incredibly horrible, but +it was true! The first man who had ever dared to try to kiss her was +this odious beast, this misshapen fiend, this scented monster! + +Ugh! The very attempt was degradation. + +The girl shuddered and looked around her into the dim, dark gloom +abroad, beyond the trees where the grass and corn lay under the +invisible sky, and where the darkness of the shadow of trees did not +reach. + +And yet, when she halted here, she had been on her way back to Eltham +House! There was no alternative. She had nowhere else to go. For lack +of courage and money she could not venture upon an hotel. She had +never been from home alone before, and she felt as if she were in a +new planet. She was not desperate, but she was awkward, timid, afraid. + +Wet and lonely as the night was, she would have preferred walking +about till morning rather than return to that house, if going back +involved again meeting that horrible man. All the time she was in the +house he had forced his odious, insolent attentions upon her. He had +followed her about the passages, and lain in wait for her with +expostulations for her prudery in not allowing him to welcome her in +patriarchal fashion to his house! Patriarchal fashion, indeed! He had +himself said he knew he was not an Adonis, but that he was not a +Methuselah either, and his poor, simple, paralysed mother told her he +was thirty-five years old. She would not take all the money in the +world to stay in a house to which he was free. At eight o'clock that +evening she had pleaded fatigue and retired to her own room for the +night. She then had no thought of immediate flight. When she found +herself alone with the door locked, she thought over the events of the +day and her position, and in the end made up her mind to escape and +return to town at once, that very evening. She wrote a line to the +effect that she was going, and placed it on the dressing-table by the +window. + +Her room was on the ground-floor, and the window wide open. Mrs. +Brown, the only servant at the house, slept not in the house but in +the gate lodge. Mrs. Brown had told her the gate was never locked +until eleven o'clock, when she locked it before going to bed in the +lodge. So that if she got back at any hour before eleven, she could +slip in through the gate and get over the low sill of her bed-room +window. She could creep in and change her wet boots and clothes and +sit up in the easy-chair till morning. Then she could steal away +again, walk to the railway station and take the first train for +London. + +She felt rested and brave now. She would go on. Heaven grant she might +meet no one on the way! + + + + + CHAPTER II. + + VOICES OF THE UNSEEN. + + +Edith Grace gathered her cloak around her and began walking once more. +The road, under the heavy trees, was now blindly dark. She had taken +nothing out of that house but the clothes she wore, not even her +dressing bag. In the first place, she had not cared to encumber +herself; and, in the second place, if she by chance met Mrs. Brown or +Oscar Leigh, she would not appear to be contemplating flight. She +could write for her trunk and bag when she found herself safely at +home once more. + +She was new to the world and affairs. She did not know or care whether +her action in leaving Eltham House was legal or not. The question did +not arise in her mind. If she had been told she had incurred a +penalty, she would have said: "All I own on earth is in that house; +but I would forego it all, I would die rather than stay there." If she +were asked why, she would have said: "Because that odious, insolent +man lied when he said I should see little of him. He was the first +person I met. Because he dared--had the intolerable impudence to try +and kiss me. Because, having failed in his attempt, he pursued me +through the house with his hateful attentions. I am very poor. I am +obliged to do something for a living. I am not a cook or a dairymaid. +My father was a gentleman, and my mother was a lady. We come of an old +Derbyshire family. I am a lady, and you can kill me, but you cannot +make me bow my head or shame my blood. If, when he tried to kiss me in +the hall, I had had a weapon, I should have stabbed him or shot him. +If I had a father or a brother he should be chastised. I know nothing +of the law, care nothing for it." + +If she had been asked: "Do you think his offence would have been less +if you happened to be a cook or a dairymaid?" + +She would have answered: "I am not concerned to answer in a purely +imaginary case. I am not a cook or a dairymaid. I am a lady. All I +know is that attempting to kiss me was an unpardonable outrage, and if +he ventured upon such an attempt again I should kill him if I had a +weapon by me. Yes, kill him!" + +And now, for want of a few shillings, she was returning to the house +from which she had fled in indignation and dread a little while ago. +She could not walk about all night in this unknown country. She had +not the means to secure accommodation at an hotel. She could not spare +money enough even for a cab from the railway station. She had in her +pocket no more than her fare to London, and a few odd, useless +pennies. + +Dark and unfamiliar as the road was to Edith Grace, there was no +chance of her losing the way. It was an unbroken line from the little +town of Millway to Eltham House. A few by roads right and left made no +confusion, for they were at right angles. The road itself was not much +frequented by day, and by night was deserted. The heavy rain of the +evening kept all folk who had the choice under cover. From the time +the girl cleared the straggling outskirts of the town until she gained +the high hedge and gateway of her destination she did not meet or +overtake a soul. + +With serious trepidation, she pushed the gate open and entered the +grounds. The gate groaned in opening and shutting, and she was +thankful that no dog found a roof in that house. + +The tiny gate lodge was dark and silent. From this she judged Mrs. +Brown had not retired for the night. Mrs. Brown had told her that when +Mr. Leigh was not at home, and Mrs. Leigh had no companion, she slept +at the house. But that when there was either Mr. Leigh or a companion, +she always spent the night in her own little home, the gate lodge. +This night Mr. Leigh, his mother, and Mrs. Brown believed a companion +and Mr. Leigh would be in the house. Well, there would be, but not +exactly as it was designed and believed by them. She had given no +word--made no sign that she was leaving. She had found her bed-room +window open, and she had not shut it. Owing to the warmth of the +night, that fact was of itself not likely to claim attention. + +The unshaded carriage-drive from the gate to the house was winding, +and about a hundred yards long. A straight line across the ill-kept +lawn would not measure more than fifty paces. Edith chose this way +because of the silence secured to her footsteps by the grass, and the +additional obscurity afforded by its darker colour. In front of the +house ran a thick row of trees and evergreen shrubs. So that in +daylight, when the trees were in leaf, the ground-floor of the house +was hidden from the road, and the road from the ground-floor of the +house. + +The house itself was of modest appearance and dimensions. In the front +stood the porch and door, on each side of which was a window. On the +floor above were three windows, and in the roof three dormers. On the +right hand of the hall lay the drawing-room, on the left-hand side the +dining-room, behind the drawing-room the library, which had been +converted into a sleeping chamber for Mrs. Leigh, who, owing to her +malady, was unable to ascend the stairs. Behind the dining-room stood +the breakfast parlour, which had been converted into a sleeping +chamber for Mrs. Leigh's companion, so that the companion might be +near Mrs. Leigh in the night time. At the rear of the companion's +sleeping chamber was a large conservatory in which the invalid took +great delight, seated in her wheeled chair. Behind the library was the +kitchen, no higher than the conservatory. The back walls of the +breakfast-room and library formed the main wall of the house. The +conservatory and kitchen were off-builds, and separated from one +another by a narrow flagged yard, in which were a large uninhabited +dog kennel, water butts, a pump, and ashbin. Beyond the flagged yard +lay a large, neglected vegetable garden. The flower garden spread +beneath the conservatory, and on the other side of the house to the +right of the kitchen, as one looked from the lawn, languished an +uncared-for orchard. + +The floor above consisted wholly of bed and dressing-rooms, except the +large billiard-room, in which there was no table. Above the first +floor nestled a number of attics, for servants and bachelors in +emergency. Only two of the bedrooms on the first floor were furnished, +and the attic story had been locked up all the time Mrs. Brown acted +as lodge-keeper, about five years. + +The few people who had ever asked Oscar Leigh why he kept so large a +house for so small a household, were informed by him, that it was his +white elephant. He had had to take it in lieu of a debt, and he could +neither sell nor let it at a figure which would pay him back his +money, or fair interest on it. Besides, he said his mother liked it, +and it suited him to go there occasionally, and forget the arduous, +scientific studies in which most of his days were spent in London. + +But very little or nothing of Mr. Oscar Leigh or his affairs was known +in Millway. He had no friends or even acquaintances there, and spoke +to no one in the town, save the few tradespeople who supplied the +household with its modest necessities. Indeed, he came but seldom to +his mother's home; not more than once a month, and then his arrival +brought no additional custom to the shops of the town, for he +generally brought a box or hamper with him full, he told the driver of +the fly he hired, of good things from the Great Town. The tradespeople +of Millway would gladly have taken more of his money, but they had +quite as much of his speech and company as they desired--more than +they desired. + +Edith Grace walked straight to the left hand corner of Eltham House, +and looked carefully through the trees and shrubs before venturing out +on the drive. Not a soul was stirring. She could hear no sound but the +rain which still fell in heavy sheets. No light was visible in any +room, but whether this was due to the absence of light inside, or to +heavy curtains and blinds she could not say. Against the glass of the +fan-sash in the porch a faint light, like that of a weak candle or +dimmed lamp, gleamed, making a sickly solitary yellow patch upon the +black, blank front of the house. + +The rain and the soddenness of the gravel were in Edith's favour. The +sound of the rain would blunt the sound of her footsteps, and the +water among the gravel would lessen the grating of the stones. + +She emerged from the cover of the trees, and hastened across the open +drive. She gained left-hand corner of the house, and passed rapidly +under the dining-room windows in the left side. + +Should she find the sash of her room down? That would be a distracting +discovery. It would mean she should have to pass the night in the open +air. That would be bad enough. It would mean that her flight had been +discovered already. It might mean that Oscar Leigh was now lying in +wait for her somewhere in this impenetrable darkness behind her back. +That would be appalling--unendurable. Hurry and see. + +Thank heaven, the window was open! + +It was much easier to get out through that window than back through +it. But at last, after a severe struggle, she found herself in the +room. Strange it seemed that she should feel more secure here, under +the roof which covered this man, than outside. Yet it was so. He +might, in the dark, outside, spring upon her unawares. He looked like +a wild beast, like some savage creature that would crouch, and spring, +and seize, and rend. Here she felt comparatively safe. The door was +locked on the inside. She had locked it on coming into the room hours +ago. If she sat down in the old arm-chair she could not be approached +from behind. However, ere sitting down she must get some dry clothes +to put on her, and she must find them and effect the change without +noise or light. It was now past ten o'clock, and no one in the house +must fancy she had not gone to bed, or there might be knocking at her +door to know if she required anything. She required nothing of that +house but a few hours' shelter. + +With great caution she searched where she knew her trunk lay open, +found the garments she needed, and replaced her wet clothing with dry. +This took time; she could not guess how long, but as it was at length +accomplished, and she was taking her first few moments of rest in the +easy-chair, she heard the front door shut. Mrs. Brown had gone back to +her lodge, and under the roof of Eltham House were only Oscar Leigh, +his paralysed mother, and herself. + +The banging of the front door made her shudder. The knowledge that +Mrs. Brown had gone away for the night increased the isolation of the +house. There were now only three people within its walls instead of +four, and this circumstance seemed to bring the loathsome Oscar Leigh +closer to her. She resolved to sit still. It was eleven o'clock. It +would be bright daylight in a few hours. As soon as the sun rose she +should, if the rain had ceased, leave the house and wander about in +the bright open daylight until the time to take the first train for +London. It would be dawn at three o'clock. From eleven to three was +only four hours. Four hours did not seem long to wait. + +The chair she sat in was comfortable, spacious, soft. There was little +danger of her falling asleep. In her present state of excitement and +anxiety sleep would keep off. But even if she should happen to doze, +there was small risk. Nothing could be more unlikely than that she +should slip out of that capacious chair and attract attention by the +noise of her fall to the floor. + +She sat herself further back in the chair to avoid the possibility of +such an accident. She had remarked during the day, that sound passed +easily and fully through the building, owing, no doubt, to the absence +of furniture from many of the rooms and the intense stillness +surrounding the house. + +Until now, she had not noticed the utter silence of the place. All day +long she had been too much agitated to perceive it. She was accustomed +to the bustle and hum of Great London, which, even in its quietest +streets, day and night, never suffers solution of the continuity of +sound, artificial sound, sound the product of man. In that deepest +hush, that awful calm that falls upon London between one and three in +the morning, there may be moments when distinct, individualized sound +is wanting, but there is always a faint dull hum, the murmur of the +breathing of mute millions of men. + +Here, in this room, was not complete silence, for abroad the rain +still fell upon the grass and trees with a murmur like the secret +speeding of a smooth fast river through the night. + +She sat with her back to the partition between her and the +dining-room. She had not dared to move the heavy chair for fear of +making noise. The chair stood with its back to the partition. It was +midway between the outer wall of the house and the partition of the +inner hall. On her left, four yards from where she sat, rose a pale +blue luminous space, the open window through which she had entered. On +her right, at an equal distance, was the invisible door which she had +locked upon retiring hours ago. The large, old-fashioned mahogany +four-posted bedstead stood in the middle of the room, between the door +and the window. The outline of the bedstead facing the window was +dimly discernible in mass. No detail of it could be made out. +Something stood there, it was impossible to say what. All the rest of +the furniture was lost, swallowed up in gloom, annihilated by the +dark. + +The room was large and lofty. It was wainscotted as high as a man +could reach. Above the wainscot the wall was painted dark green. A +heavy cornice ran round the angles of the walls. From door to window +was twenty feet. From the partition against which she sat to the wall +opposite her was twenty-four feet. The curtains of the bedstead were +gathered back at the head and foot posts. + +Of all this, beyond the parts of the bedstead fronting the window, +Edith could see nothing now. She sat with her hands folded in her lap, +her arms close to her side, her head resting on the back of the chair. +She closed her eyes, not from drowsiness, but to shut out as much as +possible the memory of the place, the thoughts of her situation. She +told herself she was once more back in her unpretending little room in +Grimsby Street. She tried to make herself believe the beating of the +rain on the trees and glass of the conservatory and gravelled carriage +sweep in front of the house was the dull murmur of London heard +through some new medium. She should hear her grandmother's voice soon. + +"Have you done, Oscar?" + +"Yes, mother. I have finished for the night." + +Edith Grace sat up in her chair and gasped with terror. The words +seemed spoken at her ear. The voices were those of Oscar Leigh, the +hunchback dwarf, and his mother, Mrs. Leigh, the paralysed old woman! +Whence came those voices? What was she about to hear? + +For a moment Edith hardly breathed. She had to exercise all her powers +of self-control to avoid springing up and screaming. The voices seemed +so close to her she expected to hear her own name called out, to feel +a hand placed upon her shoulder. + +"Yes," the voice of the man said, "I have made the drawings and the +calculations. It has taken me time. A great deal of time, mother. But +I am right. I have triumphed. I generally _am_ right, mother. I +generally _do_ triumph, mother." He spoke in a tone of elation that +rose as he progressed in this speech. His accents changed rapidly, and +there was a sound of some one moving. "But, mother, you are tired. It +has been a long day for you. You would like to go to your room." His +voice had fallen, and was low and guttural, but full of eager +solicitude and tenderness. + +"Not tired; no, Oscar. I am feeling quite well and lively and strong +to-night. For an old woman, who has lost the use of her limbs, I keep +very well. When you are with me, Oscar dear, I do not seem so old as +when you are away from me, my son." The voice was very low, and +tremulous with maternal love. + +"Old! Old!" he cried with harsh emphatic gaiety. "You are not old, +mother! You are a young woman. You are a girl, compared with the old +women I know in London, who would fly into a rage if you hinted that +they were past middle life--if you did not, in fact, _say_ they were +young. Why, mother, what is seventy? Nothing! I know dozens of women +over eighty, and they keep up their spirits and are blithe and gay, +and ready to dance at a wedding, if any man should only ask them. +Up to sixty-five, a woman ages faster than a man, but once over +sixty-five, women grow young again." Towards the end his voice had +lost its tone of unpleasant excitement, it became merely jocular and +buoyant. + +"My spirits are always good when you are here, my son. But when you +are away I am very dull. Very dull, dear. It is only natural for me to +feel dull, when half of my body is dead already. I cannot be long for +the world, Oscar." + +"Nonsense," said the other voice gaily. "Your affliction has nothing +to do with death. The doctors say it is only a local disturbance. +Besides, you know, cracked vessels are last broken. You are compelled +to take more care of yourself than other women, and you _do_ take care +of yourself, I hope. If you do not, I shall be very angry, and keep +away altogether from Eltham." + +"I take every care of myself, Oscar dear. Every care. I do not want to +go away from you. I want to stay with you as long as I can. Oscar +dear, I hope it may be granted to me to see your children before I +die, dear." The voice was low and tremulous and prayerful. The +mournfulness of a mother's heart was in the tone. + +"And so you shall, mother," he said briskly, cheerfully. "I mean to +astonish you soon. I mean to marry a very handsome wife. I have one in +my eye already, mother." He added more gravely, "I have a very +handsome wife in my eye. I mean to marry; and I mean to marry her. You +know I never make up my mind to do anything that in the end does not +come off. But before I marry I must finish my great work. When I have +put the last touches to it I shall sell it for a large sum, and retire +from business, and live here with you, mother, at my ease." + +"And when, my dear son, do you think the great clock will be finished? +Tell me all about it. It is the only thing in the world I am jealous +of. Tell me how it gets on. Have you added any new wonders to it? When +will you be done with it?" + +The fright had by this time died out of Edith's heart. She now +understood who the owners of the voices were, why the speakers seemed +so near. Oscar Leigh was talking to his mother in the dining-room. +They both believed she was in deep sleep and could not hear, or they +forgot the thinness of the substance separating them. Between the +dining-room and where she sat was only the slight panel of a folding +door. This room, now a sleeping apartment, had once been the +breakfast-parlour. She had not in the daytime noticed that the two +rooms were divided only by folding doors. If she had the alternative, +she would have got up and left the room. But she had no alternative. +She would much rather not hear the words, the voices of these two +people. If she coughed, or made a noise, she would but attract +attention to herself, bring some one, perhaps, knocking at her door. +Nothing could be more undesirable than a visitor, or inquiries at her +door. If she coughed, to show the speakers that she was awake, Mrs. +Leigh, or he, might knock and speak to her. Mrs. Leigh might, on some +plea, ask to see her, ask to be allowed to roll her invalid chair into +the room, and then she would find the tenant of it dressed for out of +doors, the bed untossed, the floor littered with the scattered +contents of her trunk, the wet bedraggled clothes and boots she had +taken off. There was nothing for her to do but to remain perfectly +still. She was not listening, in the mean or hateful sense of the +word. She did not want to overhear, but she could not help hearing. +She could not cover her ears, for that would shut out all sound, and +the use of hearing was essential to her own safety, her own +protection, situated as she found herself. Leigh had given her to +understand he was a mechanician. He was telling his mother of his +work. He was about to give her particulars of a clock upon which he +was engaged. Let them talk on about this clock. It was nothing to her. +She was interested intensely in the passage of time, but in no clock. +She did not want to hear of an hour-measurer, but of the hour-maker. +She cared nothing for man's divisions of time: she prayed with all her +heart for a sight of God's time-marker, the sun. + + + + + CHAPTER III. + + AN OFFER OF MARRIAGE. + + +"Soon, soon, mother. I shall be finished soon. I cannot tell exactly +when, but not very far off. I see the end of my labours, the reward of +all my study, the fruit of all my life," said the voice of the +hunchbacked dwarf. + +There was a pause in the speech. "Hah," breathed Leigh, in loud +inspiration. Then there was a snuffing sound, and another loud +inspiration. "Hah! that is refreshing--most refreshing. Will you have +some, mother? Do. You won't? Very well. What was I saying?" + +The strong, subtle vapour of eau-de-cologne penetrated through the +slits and joints of the folding-doors, and floated past Edith towards +the open windows. + +"About the clock," said Mrs. Leigh. "You were going to tell me what +new wonders you have added to it, and when the crowning wonder of all +was to be fixed." + +"What?" cried the voice of the dwarf, loudly, harshly, angrily. "What +do you know of the crowning wonder? Tell me, woman, at once!" His tone +was violent, imperious, threatening. + +"Oscar! Oscar! What is the matter? What do you mean by calling me +'woman'? Oscar, my son, are you ill? What is the matter? Why do you +look at me in that way? You are crushing my hand. What is the matter, +Oscar, my own boy?" The woman's accents were full of alarm. + +"Agh! Agh! Pardon me. Agh! Pardon me, my dear mother. Agh!" he coughed +violently, hoarsely. "The spirit of the eau-de-cologne must have gone +down my throat and caught my breath. I am quite right now. Pray excuse +me, mother. What was I saying?" + +"Something about the clock, dear. But, Oscar, do not mind telling me +about it now. You seem not well. Perhaps you had better rest yourself. +You can explain about the clock to-morrow." + +"Oh, ay, the clock. Of course. I am quite well, mother. You need not +be uneasy about me. What was I going to tell you about the clock?" + +"You were going to tell me--I do not know really what. I asked you +when it would be completed. That is my chief anxiety, for then you +will be always here--always here, near me, my dear son." + +"Certainly; when I sell my unrivalled clock, I'll give up living in +London and come down here to you, mother, and become a private +gentleman." + +"But why can't you come down and stop here always, my Oscar? Surely +your clock could be brought to Millway, and back to London again when +'tis finished?" The voice of the woman was caressing, pleading. "I +have not very long to live, Oscar. Might not I have you near me that +little time?" The tone was tremulous and pathetic. + +"Dear, dear mother," he said softly, tenderly. "I cannot--I cannot +move the clock. You forget how large it is. I have told you over and +over again it would half fill this room. Besides, I have other +business in London I cannot leave just now. I will come as soon as +ever I can. You may take my word for that. Let us say no more on that +subject at present. I was going to explain to you about my marvellous +clock. Let me see. What have I already told you?" + +"Oh, it was too wonderful to remember. Tell me over again." + +"Very well. To begin with, it will, of course, measure time first of +all. That is the principal and easiest thing to contrive. It will show +the year, the month, the day of the month, the day of the week, the +hour of the day, the minute of the hour, the second of the minute, the +tenth of the second. All these will be shown on one dial." + +"That much alone puzzles and astonishes me. It will be the most useful +clock in the world." + +"So far that is all easy, and would not make it even a very remarkable +clock, mother. It will take account of leap year, and be constructed +to run till the year ten thousand of the Christian era." + +"When once wound up?" + +"Oh no, you simple mother. It will have to be wound up every week." + +"But will not the machinery wear out?" + +"Yes, the metal and the stones will wear out and rust out before eight +thousand years. But the principle will have eight thousand years of +vitality in it. Steel and brass and rubies yield to friction and time, +but a principle lives for ever if it is a true principle----" + +"And a good principle," interrupted the voice of the old woman, +piously. + +"Good or bad, if it is true it will last," said the voice of the +hunchback, harshly. Then he went on in more gentle and even tones. "On +another face it will tell the time of high water in fifty great +maritime cities. There will be four thousand Figures of Time, figures +of all the great men of the past, each bearing a symbol of his +greatest work, or thought, or achievement, and each appearing on the +anniversary of his death, thus there will be from eight to twenty +figures visible each day, and that day will be the anniversary of the +one on which each of the men died years ago." + +"Four thousand figures! Why, it will cost a fortune!" + +"Four thousand historic figures each presented on the anniversary of +death! I am at work on the figures of those who died on the 22nd of +August just now. They are very interesting to me, and one of them is +the most interesting of all, the most interesting of all the four +thousand figures." + +"And who died on the 22nd of August, Oscar? Whose is the figure that +interests you most of all, my son?" + +"Richard Plantagenet of Gloucester," fiercely. + +"Eh?" in a tone of intense pain. + +"Richard Plantagenet of Gloucester, commonly called Richard the Third +of England, and nicknamed the Hunchbacked Tyrant," maliciously. + +"Oscar!" in a tone of protest and misery. + +"Yes. Hump and all, I am now making the figure of the most famous +hunchback in history. I take a delight in modelling the figure of my +Hunchback Tyrant. In body and soul I can sympathise with--him." He +spoke furiously, and there was a sound in the room as if he rose. + +"Oh, you break my heart, my boy, my boy, my son! Don't, for God's +sake, don't. You cut me to the soul! You frighten me when you look in +that way." She spoke in terror and anguish. + +There were hasty, halting, footsteps pacing up and down the +dining-room. The folding-doors behind Edith's head trembled, the +windows of the dining-room rattled. The girl wondered he did not think +of her. He knew her room lay beyond the dining-room, and he must be +aware nothing divided her room from the front one but the thin panels +of the folding-doors. It was plain to her now he did not care whether +she heard or not. + +"Break your heart, mother!" he went on in a tone of excitement but +less acerbity. "Why should what I say break your heart? What hurt can +words do? Look at me! Me! If I were to say my heart was broken, no one +would wonder. I am not reproaching you. Heaven knows, if I turned upon +you, I should have no friend left in all the world. Not one soul who +would care for me--care whether I lived or died, whether I prospered +or was hanged by the common hangman on a gibbet!" + +"Oh, Oscar, what is it? What has done it? What has soured you so? You +never talked in this way until now. What has changed you?" The voice +of the woman was broken. She was weeping through her words. + +"A girl's face. A girl's face has changed me. I, who had a heart of +adamant, a heart of the core of adamant befitting the crooked carcase +in which it is penned and warped and blackened by villainous +obstructions. But there! I have been vapouring, mother. Let my words +pass. I am a fool and worse to break out in such a way before you, my +good, gentle mother." His voice became less excited, his steps more +slow and light. "It is passed. I am myself again. I know your advice +is good. I mean to follow it. I will marry a wife. I will marry a +pretty, shapely wife. You shall have grand children at your knee, +mother, before long, before you go. Well-favoured and gay and +flawless, and straight-backed, and right-limbed little children who +will overtop me, exceed me in height before they begin their teens, +but will never, never, never mother, grow to near the degree of love I +have for you." His voice and steps ceased, as though he paused at her +side. + +"Do not kneel," she whispered huskily. "Do not kneel, my son. I was +frightened a moment ago, and now I feel suffocated with joy. There! +That is right. Sit in your own chair again." + +For a while Edith heard sobs--the sobs of a man. + +The woman had ceased to weep. + +When the sobbing stopped, the woman said: "Who is she? Do I know her? +Do I know even her name?" + +"All that is my secret, mother. I will not say any more of her but +that I am accustomed to succeed, and I will succeed here. I will keep +the secret of her name in my heart to goad me on. I am accustomed to +succeed. Rest assured I will succeed in this. We will say no more of +it. Let it be a forbidden subject between us until I speak of it +again; until, perhaps, I bring her to you." + +"As you will, Oscar. Keep your secret. I can trust and wait." + +"It is best. I feel better already. That storm has cleared the air. I +was excited. I have reason to be excited to-day. At this moment--it is +now just twelve o'clock--at this moment I am either succeeding or +failing in one of my most important aims." + +"Just now, Oscar. Do you mean here?" + +"No, not here. In London. You do not believe in magic, mother?" + +"Surely not. What do you mean? You do not believe in anything so +foolish?" + +"Or in clairvoyance or spectres, mother?" + +"No, my child. Nor you, I hope. That is, I do not believe in all the +tales I hear from simple folk." + +"And yet not everything--not half everything--is understood even now." + +"Will you not tell me of this either?" + +"Not to-night, mother. Not to-night. Another time, perhaps, I may. You +know I had a week ago no intention of coming here to-day. I did not +come to welcome Miss Grace. I had another reason for coming. I am +trying an experiment to-night. At this moment I am putting the result +of many anxious hours to the touch. If my experiment turns out well I +shall come into a strange power. But there, I will say no more about +it, for I must not explain, and it is not fair to tell you, all at +once, that I have two secrets from you. And now, mother, it is very +late for you. We must go to bed. That patent couch still enables you +to do without aid in dressing?" + +"Yes. I am still able to do without help. I think some of the springs +want oiling. You will look at them to-morrow?" + +"Yes. But it must be early. I am going back to town at noon." + +"So soon? I did not think you would leave till later, Oscar. I don't +want to pry into your secrets, but you spoke of gaining some strange +powers. Do you think it wise to play with--with--with?" + +"With what, mother?" + +"With strange powers." + +"That depends on what the strange powers are." + +"But tell me there is no danger." + +"To me? No, I think not." + +"Oscar, I am uneasy." + +"We have sat and talked too long. You are worn out. I will wheel you +to your room. I am sleepy myself." + +Edith Grace heard the sound of Mrs. Leigh's invalid chair moving +towards the dining room door, then the door open and the chair pass +down the hall and into Mrs. Leigh's bedroom. Words passed between the +mother and son, but she did not catch their import. She heard the door +of Mrs. Leigh's room opposite her own close and then the dragging, +lame footsteps of the hunchback on the tiles of the back hall. + +The girl listened intently. She did not move. She was sitting bolt +upright in her chair with her face turned towards the door of the +room. + +Leigh's irregular, shuffling footsteps became more distinct. He was +crossing the hall from his mother's room to the stairs, which began at +the left-hand side of the back hall, close to the door of the room +where Edith sat. + +"He is going upstairs to his own room. When he is gone the house will +be still and I shall be at ease. Daylight will soon come and then I +can slip away again and wait till the first train for London--for +home! He must be mad. Even if he had not pressed his hateful +attentions on me I would not stay in this house for all the world," +thought Edith Grace. + +The slow, shuffling footsteps did not ascend the stairs. They paused. +They paused, she could not tell exactly where. All her faculties were +concentrated in hearing, and she heard nothing, absolutely nothing, +but the rain. Could it be he had reached the stairs and was ascending +inaudibly? Could it be he had already ascended? She thought it was but +a moment ago since he closed his mother's door. He might have gone up +unheard. It might be longer since the door shut than she thought. She +could not judge time exactly in the dark, and when she was so +powerfully excited. Should she get up out of that chair, open the door +as quietly as possible, and peer into the hall? What good would that +do? If he were there he would see her; if he were not there all was +well. Besides, it would be quite impossible to unlock the door and +open it without making a noise, without the snap of the lock, the +grating of the latch, the creaking of the hinge. It was better to +remain quiet. + +Suddenly she heard a sound that made her heart stand still, her breath +cease to come. She grew rigid with terror. + +She heard a something soft sliding over the outside of that door. A +hand! It touched and rattled the handle. The handle turned, and with a +low, dull sound the door opened! She could not see the door. The light +which had illumed the fan sash in the porch had evidently been +extinguished, for there was no gleam through the open door. That part +of the room was so intensely dark, even the masses in it were +invisible. But she knew by the dull, puffing sound the door had been +opened, and by the surge of the heavy, damp, warm air. + +She could not move or cry out if she would. She was completely +paralysed, frozen. She was aware of possessing only two senses, +hearing and seeing. She was not conscious of her own identity beyond +what was presented to her sensations through her ears or her eyes. She +did not even ask herself how he had come there, how he had opened from +the hall the door she had left locked upon the inside. + +He entered the room with slow, deliberate, limping steps. She could +hear the footfall of his left foot and the slight, brushing touch of +his right foot as he drew it after the left. + +On slowly he came until he touched the bed. She could dimly make out +the white of his face and shirt-front against the gleam from the +window as he advanced. It was plain he could not see as well as she, +for he walked up against the bed. His eyes had not become accustomed +to the darkness. + +He turned to his left, towards where she sat, and came on, feeling his +way by the bed. She heard him feeling his way. As soon as he reached +the foot-post he turned right, round where she sat in the deepest +gloom of the room and then walked to the window. + +When he reached the window he stood full in front of it and muttered: +"Rain, rain still." He thrust his arms out of the window and drawing +them back in a moment, rubbed his face with his hands. "That is +refreshing," he muttered. "Hah! They say rainwater is the best lotion +for preserving the beauty of the skin. Hah! They do. They say Ninon de +L'Enclos kept her beauty up to past seventy by rain-water. Hah! They +do. They say she did. Hah! I wonder how long would it preserve _my_ +beauty. Ha-ha-ha! More than a century, I suppose. I wonder would +rain-water preserve the beauty of my hump. I believe my hump is one of +the most beautiful ever man wore. But it doesn't seem to count for +much among a man's attractions. People don't appear to care much for +humps, whether they are really beauties of this kind or not. Hah! They +don't. People don't. Hah! They are not educated up to humps. Hah!" + +At each exclamation "Hah!" he made a powerful expiration of breath. +Before each exclamation he rubbed his forehead with one hand drawn in +wet from the rain falling outside the window. + +"_She_, for instance," he went on, "doesn't care much for humps. She +prefers straight-backed men with straight strong legs. And yet +straight-backed men with straight strong legs are common enough in +all conscience. Most of the beggars even are straight-backed and +strong-legged. I am not. Hah! How cool and refreshing this rain-water +is. I am a novelty and yet people don't care for such a novelty as I +am. No; they prefer men cut to pattern. _She_ would rather have a +straight-backed beggar than me, and yet I am more interesting, more +uncommon. I am more remarkable to look at, and then I have genius. +Yes; I have a form of body far out of the common, and a form of mind +far out of the common, too. I have a hump and genius. Hah! But no one +cares for a hump or genius. _She_ doesn't, for instance. Hah! But I +mean that she shall like me. I mean to make love to her. I mean to woo +her, and to win her. Hah! She doesn't know me now as well as she will +know me later. I have never been in love before. I can't say I like +the feeling. I used to be very valiant and self-sufficing, and at +my ease in my mind. Hah! I looked on women as the mere dross of +humanity--not worthy to associate with cripples. Hah! Of course, I +except my mother, who is the best and dearest soul God ever sent to +earth. But now I am in love, and this girl, this young girl, seems +precious to me. Hah! Certainly I shall win her. I have not yet learned +to fail, and I don't mean to learn how to fail now. Hah! How cool and +refreshing the rain is. What is it I came into this room for? Stay. +Let me think. Oh, yes! my mother asked me to put the window down +before I went upstairs. Hah! Yes. I will. There!" + +He let the window down without any regard to the noise. It smote +harshly upon the sill. Edith did not move, did not make a sound. She +was glad at the moment, though she did not realize that she was glad, +because he had let down the window. The diminished light would reduce +the chance of his seeing her even now that his eyes had grown used to +the darkness. She did not realize that she was glad until afterwards. +All her consciousness was still concentrated on hearing and seeing. + +Leigh turned away from the window, and began slowly retracing his +steps to the door, muttering as he went along the side of the bed +opposite the window: + +"Yes, she has run away. Run away from this house a few hours after +entering it. Run away, frightened, terrified by my ugliness." + +He had reached the foot of the bed by this time, and, crossing between +where she sat, turned in the darkness at the foot-board. Only his head +rose above the high foot-board. His hand moved in dim relief against +the background of the white head part of the bed discernible over the +foot-board. + +As he spoke these words her first thought beyond a desire to hear and +see entered her mind. It gave her instant and enormous relief, +although as before she was not at the moment attentive to the relief. +The feeling, however, took in her mind the form of words. "He knows I +left the house. He does not know I have come back." + +He paused directly in front of her, and seemed to rest against the +foot-board. He muttered in a voice more deep and faint than the one in +which he had hitherto spoken: + +"She ran away, this Edith Grace, she ran away from my ugliness. +Ha-ha-ha! We shall see, Edith Grace. We shall see. I did not tell my +mother the name of the girl I mean to marry. She shall know it soon +enough, and not all the wiles or force of man shall keep me from my +purpose, keep Edith Grace from me!" + +He thrust his arms out to their full length in front of him and drew +them back swiftly towards him. The air from the motion of his long +thin hands touched her cheek. + +She drew her head back a hand's breadth. Otherwise she did not stir. +She sat motionless. She had no power over the actions of her body. She +could not cry out or move further. + +Oscar Leigh turned, crept slowly along the foot and right side of the +bed, fumbled for the door handle, and, having found it, went out of +the room, closing and latching the door quietly after him. + +Then she heard him toilfully, ponderously, going up stairs. Presently +a door above was closed and complete silence fell upon the house. + +The spell lifted from the girl, and covering her face with her hands +she sank back in the chair with a tremulous, heavy sigh of relief. + + + + + CHAPTER IV. + + ON THE WING. + + +Edith lay in the large easy-chair for a long time without stirring. +She did not even think. It was enough that she had been delivered from +the danger of discovery, and that she was free to take wing and fly +away at the streak of earliest dawn. + +She did not know how long she sat with her face covered with her +hands. She had resolved not to move for a long time, and for a long +time she remained motionless. There was no fear of her sleeping. +Although her mind was not actively employed about anything it was +sharply awake. The first thing to challenge her attention was a sound. +No boding or terrible sound, but the faint, weak shrill chirp of a +bird. She scarcely realized what it was at first, for she was +unfamiliar with the country and unused to the early notes of field and +wood. + +She took her hands from before her face and looked at the window. The +light was still very grey and blue. But it was light, and, moreover, +light that would grow stronger every minute, every second. When the +day is breaking for joy or deliverance, the light fills the veins with +an ethereal intoxication. Thoughts which during darkness can be met +only with pallid terror can, when the shadow of night has passed away, +be faced with vital courage and endurance. + +She rose with care, but there was firmness and decision in her +movements. She was fully dressed for walking. The rain had stopped and +the sky above the trees spread clear and stainless, a vast plain of +open blue. + +Oscar Leigh had lowered the window. She caught the sash and raised it +very gently but with no trepidation. If the door had that moment +opened, she would have simply sprung through the window, without a +word. The want of sleep dulls the apprehensions of fear as well as the +other faculties of the mind. It sobers the judgment and reduces the +susceptibility to extravagance of emotion. + +When she had got the sash up to its full height, she stepped +resolutely out on the gravelled carriage-sweep. She felt almost at +ease. She paused a moment, looked back into the room, and under the +shadow of her hand saw that the note she had placed on the table was +gone. She turned away from the window and began walking along the +gravelled drive towards the gate. + +In the face of freedom and the growing light of day the events of last +night were beginning to lose all aspect of mystery or terror and to +assume a commonplace aspect. The wild talk of the hunchback with his +mother grew to have little or no significance worthy of attention, and +the soliloquy at the window was, upon review, becoming absurd. +Indisputably she was right in leaving that house. It would be entirely +unpleasant to live in a house where a man whom she did not like, +forced attentions on her. She would go back to London and tell her +story at home, and get another place. That was all. No one but her +grandmother and herself need know of this first unpleasant experience +of trying to earn her bread. + +Here was the gate. Locked! Of course. Mrs. Brown had told her the gate +was locked by her every night when she came from the house at eleven +o'clock. Edith had forgotten this. She had not bargained for finding +her way barred a short distance from the house. A couple of hours ago +this would have seemed an insuperable obstacle. Now she was free, and +quite destitute of terror, of fear, of even grave uneasiness. She felt +she could be almost angry, indignant, with this gate and those who had +shut and fastened it against her egress. + +She turned her face from the gate and looked back at Eltham House. All +there appeared quiet and asleep. She looked at the little lodge on her +right. Here all seemed quiet and asleep too. The door was shut, the +curtains of the windows, one on each side of the door, were close +drawn. She could hear no sound but the chatter of the small birds in +the hedges, the cawing of distant rooks, and afar off the vexatious +crowing of a cock. + +The solitude of morning in the country around her was widely different +from the solitude of the night just gone by. The solitude of midnight +seemed designed for the return of banished spirits; the solitude of +the dawn a desert from which man had fled for ever. A sense of +desolation came upon her. She wanted to be free, to be at the other +side of that gate, but when she found herself on the open road what +should she do? For hours to come the people of Millway would not be +stirring. She was fleeing from that house into a desolate and +uninhabited plain, for though there might be people within call, they +were not within sight. Anyway, she could not stay here at the gate. +She was now the most conspicuous object on which the upper windows of +the house looked, and if he were to come to a front window he could +not fail to see her. If anyone happened to pass along that road she +would be a conspicuous and most remarkable figure inside that gate at +this hour. + +She walked to the door of the lodge and softly placed her hand on the +latch. It yielded to her touch. She pressed against the door; it moved +inward. Disclosed to view was a tiny square hall, in which were two +doors. Close to the door which she had opened a large iron holdfast +projected from the wall, and upon the holdfast hung a large, clumsy +key. The key of the gate? Perhaps so. + +In a moment she had taken the key off the hook, gone back to the gate, +and inserted the key in the lock. In a minute she was outside the gate +on the open road. She closed the gate noiselessly behind her, and +hastened away, she knew not whither. + +Before she had gone a hundred yards she discovered she had turned to +the right instead of to the left. She intended walking towards the +town, and it lay on her left as she came through the gateway. She +hastened back and found the gate quickly. She kept on at this pace +until she was about as far on this side of the gate as she had been on +the other. Then she slackened her speed, moving demurely along the +road. + +After all, from what was she fleeing? Why was she hastening away? What +prevented her staying in the house until ten o'clock, and then going +to the railway station, in the ordinary way? + +She could not remain in the house to be found there when it was +believed she had left it for good. But why had she rushed out of it +the previous night in a panic? Surely there had been nothing to alarm +her. No doubt Mr. Leigh had tried to kiss her upon her arrival, and +she could not stay after that affront. It was intolerable that any man +should attempt to kiss _her_. He had tried to excuse himself by saying +he had only offered her a patriarchal welcome. The idea of a man who +was only thirty-five years claiming the privileges of age was absurd. +But, upon reflection, he might not have meant patriarchal to imply +length of life, but method of life. He might have intended to convey +that he, as male head of the house, assumed the privileges which +obtained in patriarchal times, in remote times, when the head of the +house posed as the father of all dwelling within its gates. But even +if that were so, there was an affront in any such presumption, and she +could not consent to remain under that roof longer than necessary. His +gallantries of bows, and civil speech, and offers of service, +following his atrocious attempt, were enough to warrant her in leaving +if there had been no other provocation. + +But there had been no occasion for mysterious or surreptitious flight. +Plainly no desire existed of detaining her against her will. She had +been permitted to retire to her room on pleading fatigue, the window +was then fully open, the gate had not been fastened, and even when the +gate was locked for the night the key was left lying accessible to +anyone within the grounds. True, he believed her to be now in London. +He did not know she had lost the train. Seemingly, he had taken not +the least trouble to detain her in the house or to ascertain what her +movements were when she quitted it. + +Viewed by the sober light of day it appeared she had been making a +silly romance out of some half-jocular attentions paid to her by a +vulgar man, almost old enough to be her father! His soliloquy at the +window about making her his wife had been only a little more absurd +than his share in the dialogue between him and his mother. Presently, +in a few days, the whole affair would appear nothing more than an +unpleasant dream. In all likelihood she should never see Mrs. Leigh or +her son again. The chances were a million to one against her +encountering either during the remainder of her life. She would +dismiss the whole affair from her mind and think of other matters. + +Not a soul to be seen or heard yet. What a ridiculous thing it was to +say that people of the country were earlier risers than people of the +town! Fancy walking a mile at any time in the morning through London +without meeting a soul! + +About half-a-mile from Millway a seat had been placed by the side of +the road. It was formed of three square bars of wood supported upon +three square pillars of stone. Edith sat down and rested. She did not +move until she heard the sound of approaching wheels and horses. She +rose and walked briskly in the direction from which she heard the +sounds. She walked quickly, with her head down, as though knowing well +whither she was going, and being in haste. Two sleepy men in a cart +looked with drowsy eyes at her as they passed, but said nothing. These +were the first people she had met since she left Eltham House. They +did not speak to her, ask her any questions, seem to take the +slightest interest in her. This was reassuring. When the cart was out +of sight, she returned to the seat and rested again. She would not go +back towards the house lest she might be seen by Mr. Leigh or Mrs. +Brown; she would not go among the sleeping houses lest she might +attract attention, invite inquiries. No one else came near for +half-an-hour. Then a scattered group of labourers, tramping doggedly +onward from the town, disturbed her solitude. She got up and passed +these quickly, as before. One of the men said "Good morning," civilly. +Before they disappeared from view a second cart sounded on the road. +The country was at length awake. It would not be desirable for her to +sit on that bench in the view of people at that early hour. She +resolved to keep moving now until the railway station opened. + +After leaving that bench finally, she walked into the town as if on +business of urgency, but of no alarm. It would not do to seem careless +of her route or speed; it would not do to seem eagerly in haste; it +would not do to seem as though she was strange to the place. She had +no fear but that shy fear of attracting attention instinctively +developed in those who flee, no matter from what they flee. + +She wandered through many streets and roads that day, but took no note +of them. She adopted a plan to avoid losing her bearings. There were +six roads leading out of Millway. She took them one after the other +from her left hand, went forward upon each a thousand steps, counting +each step in her mind, and then came back to the point from which she +had started, also counting each step as she returned. This prevented +her wandering far, or losing her way. Counting the steps kept her mind +fully occupied, and prevented her noticing the fatigue, or becoming +unhappily conscious of her unusual position. + +Upon comparing the numbers of outward and backward steps, she found +that the stretch of road which measured a thousand from town, measured +never more than nine hundred and fifty back. As soon as she turned +towards Millway, although she knew the station would not be open when +she arrived there, she unconsciously increased the length of each +pace. + +Only once in her monotonous and fatiguing task did anything unpleasant +come in her path, and then the unpleasant object was a plain +white-washed wall. Yet it gave her a sick thrill of terror. +Fortunately it was in her last radiation from Millway. + +She was quite unfamiliar with the town. She had never seen it until +the day before, and then only as the fly drove from the station to +Eltham House. This morning she had determined her course from left to +right, taking the wide and open streets, down which she could see far. +She passed by several ways which did not look main arteries of +traffic. When it was half an hour of train time, she left behind two +narrow and unpromising-looking streets, and coming upon the broadest +and most open one she had yet encountered, committed herself to it +without hesitation, merely making the reflection, "This is my last +turn. It will be time to go to the station when I reach this corner +again." + +After that she took no heed of the street in which she was, but kept +on. Fatigue, and the knowledge that her walk was approaching an end, +made her duller and more indifferent than before. She did not look +around her. She counted her steps in a purely mechanical manner. They, +as it were, went on counting themselves without effort on her part. It +is doubtful if she then could have stopped the enumeration. Her plan +up to this had been to count up to a hundred and then begin again, +closing up a finger for each five score told. + +The road was not straight. She did not notice that at the end of the +first hundred, the street had narrowed, and the flagging ceased. +Before the end of the second hundred was chronicled, the pathway +disappeared, the houses grew mean and dilapidated. Before she counted +two hundred and fifty, she was traversing an alley, filthy under foot, +with battered, squalid houses and hovels on either side. This was the +most foul and disreputable part of Millway. It was inhabited by the +unfortunate, the dissolute, and the disreputable. No one of good +repute and appearance had been down there for years and years. + +She saw nothing of what lay around her, did not notice the filthy, +rutty ground on which she trod; did not observe the windless, noisome +air through which she moved. + +All at once she drew up with a quick start, and uttered a suppressed +cry of alarm. She was in front of a blank white-washed wall. She +glanced around in terror, looking for an avenue of escape. There was +none except the way by which she had come. She found herself at the +end of a frowsy, villainous-looking _cul-de-sac_. + +She shuddered and stood still, not knowing for the moment what to do. +There was no going forward; to go back, was to confess she had lost +her way. Even the white radiance of the morning could not make that +close, f[oe]tid, ruinous street look innocent. It had vice and crime +written too deeply on its evil face. Fortunately, no one was stirring +in the street, but each house and hovel had windows, and windows of +fearful aspect, and behind these windows she imagined hideous winking +eyes, and fleering faces. What, if some one, some hulking, slouching +figure, should shamble out of one of those sinister doorways, and +plant itself in the middle of the lane, blocking up her path, and +forbidding her flight! + +She caught her breath, and stooped her head, and ran swiftly, +fiercely, madly, as though pursued by a pack of ravenous wolves. She +fancied she heard the clatter of swift, relentless feet, the clamour +of ruthless voices behind her ears. She imagined she felt the touch of +claw-like hands upon her shoulder. She imagined she could see out of +the corners of her eyes the foul fingers of her pursuers on her +shoulder, on her sleeve! She thought she heard, felt, their breathings +at her ears! She ran as for life from awful death. + +All at once the figure of a man barred her way, blocked her path. With +a cry of despair she stood still. The man seemed to be awaiting her +approach. He moved a step towards her and said: "Beg pardon, miss. You +need not run. There's plenty of time. The train does not start till +six-fifteen, and it's only a quarter to six." + +This was the friendly railway-porter of the night before. He had just +stepped out of his lodging. She had failed to notice that she had left +the reeking slum behind her, and was once more in the main street of +the town. + +She made a powerful effort and collected herself. + +"Plenty of time, miss," said the man respectfully, "if you are going +up to London by the six-fifteen." He waved his hand in the direction +of the station. + +"Thank you. I am much obliged to you. I--I did not wish to be late." +Her breath was so short from running she spoke irregularly and with +difficulty. + +"I am going to open the station, miss. Would you like to sit in the +waiting room?" + +"Thank you. I would." + +He drew aside and she passed him. He followed at a deferential +distance. + +In five minutes they stood on the platform. He opened the door of the +waiting room. Then he paused and thought a moment. He turned to her +and said, pointing to a line of carriages drawn up at the platform: +"That's the train for London. You haven't to change until you get +there. Are you going to Victoria or Ludgate?" + +"Victoria." + +"That," pointing, "part of the train is for Victoria--the forward +part, miss." He looked at her again, and noticed that her boots showed +signs of a long walk. "Perhaps you would like to go straight into a +carriage?" + +"I should prefer that." + +"I can see to your luggage and get your ticket for you, miss, so that +you need not stir once you get in." + +"I have no luggage here. It will be sent after me. Not first-class, +thank you. I shall travel third, if you please." She coloured a little +more deeply. Her usually pale face was faintly flushed from her late +haste and excitement. "Here is the money for the ticket. You have been +very kind to me--I am extremely sorry I--I--I can't make you a little +present--but----" + +"Don't mention it, miss. It's my duty, miss, to do what I can to +oblige passengers. Take the far corner with your back to the engine. +I'll lock you in. We haven't many passengers by this train, and I may +be able to keep the carriage altogether for you, at starting, anyway. +The ticket office won't be open for a few minutes. With your back to +the engine, miss. I'll bring you the ticket in time. You are locked in +now, miss, and you need not stir until you get to Victoria." + +She thanked him again and he left her. Now the full effect of her long +walk, the reaction from the excitement of the night and want of sleep, +fell upon her with leaden weight of drowsiness. She was safe, at rest +now, on her way home. This was a blessed change from the strain of +mind in the darkness, and the weary, weary walking and counting in the +light. She went on counting still, exactly at the rate of her paces on +the road. + +Her head rested in the corner of the narrow compartment. Her brain +still went stolidly on counting whether she would or not. She closed +her eyes. A delicious numbness began to steal over her. She had a +faint consciousness that a few people were out on the platform. She +heard as from afar off the sound of voices and feet. + +"Your ticket, miss." + +Something was placed in her hand, she started and caught it in her +gloved fingers, closely. + +"I'll lock the door again, miss. You are all right now till you get to +Victoria." + +"Thank you, very much." + +This dialogue sounded faintly in her ears, she had no clear perception +that she had taken part in it. In another minute she was fast asleep +with her head resting in the corner of the carriage and a soft smile +upon her lips. + +After her eyelids closed and she became unconscious in sleep, the +following dialogue took place on the platform, outside the window of +her carriage: + +"You are not to go in there, sir, that compartment is engaged." + +"Third class compartment engaged! Rubbish! Open the door, I say, at +once!" + +"No, sir, I cannot. I do not mean that the compartment is engaged by +paying for it." + +"Open it this instant." + +"The lady has been very ill of some catching complaint and must travel +alone. See, she is asleep." + +"No matter. _I_ too am very ill of a catching complaint. Open the +door. You wont! Oh, it doesn't make any difference, I'll open it +myself. I always carry a key. Porter, you have lost a shilling. But +there, I won't be vindictive, here's a shilling for being good to the +lady. She is a friend of mine. You are doing well this morning, +porter. She paid you first for reserving the compartment, then I pay +you instead of reporting you for being impertinent and corrupt." + +"She gave me nothing. The lady had only her bare fare to Victoria, and +if you know her she will tell you that I got her ticket and she had no +money left." + +"You're new to this place. I never saw you here before. Go away. Only +you are so young a fool I'd get you into trouble." + +All this was said in low voices so as to be inaudible to the girl, +even if she had been awake, but she was not awake, she was in profound +sleep. + +The new passenger was seated in the compartment, and, as the porter +turned away, he closed and locked the door softly. In less than a +minute the train steamed out of the station. The girl slept on with a +smile of relief and deliverance around her fresh young mouth. + +The second traveller sat facing the engine on the side opposite Edith, +and directly in front of her, by the open window. He was a short +deformed man and carried a heavy crooked walking-stick. For a few +minutes after the train began to move he remained without moving. The +girl slept heavily, swaying slightly from side to side with the motion +of the train, her two gloved hands lay placidly on her lap. Between +the thumb and fore-finger of her right hand was the ticket bought for +her by the friendly porter, and representing all the money she had had +beyond a few half pence. + +When the train had been five minutes on its way and had gained its +full speed, the man leaned forward towards the sleeping girl, and with +infinite gentleness and care drew the ticket out of her hand, keeping +his eyes on her eyelids the whole time. Without taking his eyes off +her face, he raised his right hand, thrust it, holding the ticket +between his thumb and finger, out of the carriage window, and dropped +the ticket into the rushing air. Then he sat back in his corner +opposite Edith, and sighed and smiled. + + + + + CHAPTER V. + + MR. LEIGH'S DEPUTY. + + +It was early in the afternoon the same day, the last Thursday of June. +The rain of the night before had been general in the South of England. +It had fallen heavily in London, and washed and freshened the dusty, +parched streets. Now all London capable of being made fresh and blithe +by weather was blazing gallantly in the unclouded radiance of summer. +Even Chetwynd Street, a third rate thoroughfare of the less delectable +and low-lying part of Westminster, looked gay in comparison with its +usual squalor, for it had been scoured clean and sweetened by the +waters of Heaven. The wind, and the rain, and the sun of Heaven, were +all the friends Chetwynd Street seemed to have. Man had built it. It +was man's own, and man seemed to despise his handiwork, and neglect +his duty towards what he had made. + +Few civilians with good clothes and sound boots visited Chetwynd +Street. Policemen go everywhere, and were to be seen in this street +now and then, and soldiers often strayed into it, for they are common +in all the region. But although the publicans and pawnbrokers of the +thoroughfare were well-to-do people, they did not put their wealth +upon their backs. It would have been considered ostentatious for +ordinary mortals to wear broadcloth within the precincts of the +street. The sumptuary laws of the place forbade broadcloth for +every-day wear to all except clergymen, doctors, and undertakers. On +Sundays, or festivals, such as marriages and funerals, broad-cloth +might be worn by the prosperous tradespeople without exciting anger or +reproach. + +The two most prosperous shopkeepers in the place were Mr. Williams, +landlord of the Hanover public house, at the corner of Welbeck Place, +leading to Welbeck Mews, and Mr. Forbes, baker, at the opposite corner +of Welbeck Place. Mr. Williams's house was all glitter and brightness +on the ground floor. He had two large plate-glass windows, divided +only by a green and gilt iron pillar, looking into Chetwynd Street, +and two large plate glass windows, divided only by a green and gilt +iron pillar, looking into Welbeck Place. The door of Mr. Williams's +house faced Chetwynd Street. Mr. Forbes was not so lavish of glass or +gaslight as his neighbour, of the Hanover. His only window on the +shop-floor, looking into Chetwynd Street, was composed of panes of +crown glass of moderate size. In Welbeck Place, on the ground floor, +he had a blank wall, and farther up the Place, a modest door. In +Chetwynd Street, beyond the shop door, was another door belonging to +him; the door to the staircase and dwelling part of the house above +the shop. The door in Welbeck Place led also to the base of the +staircase, and to the bakehouse at the rear. The side door was not +used for business purposes of the bakery. The back of the bakehouse at +the rear stood in Welbeck Mews, and here was a door through which Mr. +Forbes's flour and coal came in and loaves went out. Mr. Forbes had +several bakeries in the neighbourhood. He did not reside in the upper +part of his house in Chetwynd Street. He used the first floor as a +warehouse. He stored all kinds of odds and ends here, including empty +sacks, and sometimes flour. One of the rooms he had used as an office, +but gave it up, and now kept it locked, idle. It was not easy to let +the upper parts of houses to respectable people in this street. It +would not suit his business to let the house in tenements to any +lodgers who might offer. + +For the second floor he had a most respectable tenant, who paid his +rent with punctuality, and gave no trouble at all. There were three +rooms on the second or top floor. A sitting-room, a bed-room, and a +workshop. The sitting-room was farthest from Welbeck Place, being over +the hall and part of the shop. The bed-room was over the middle +section of the shop. The work-room was at the eastern end of the +house. The bed-room looked into Chetwynd Street. The sitting-room +looked into the same street. The work-shop looked into Welbeck Place. +The bed-room and sitting-room were immediately over that part of the +house used by Mr. Forbes as a store or lumber room. The workshop on +the top floor was directly over what once served as an office for the +baker, and was now locked up. + +The man and his wife in charge of the business slept in the bakehouse +at the back which opened into the mews. The only person sleeping in +the house proper was the tenant of the second floor. At the top of the +staircase, on the second floor, there was a stout door, which could be +locked on either side, so that the tenant had a flat all to himself, +and was as independent as if he owned a whole house. In the matter of +doors, he was rather better off than his neighbours, who had whole +houses; for he had, first of all, the door of his own flat at the top +of the stairs, and was allowed a key for the outer door into Chetwynd +Street, and one for the door into Welbeck Place. For the door at the +back, that one from the bakehouse into the mews, he had not been given +a key by the landlord, nor did he ask for one. When something was said +about it on his taking the place, he laughed, and declared, "Two +entrances to my castle are enough for a man of my inches." + +The tenant of the top floor of the bakery was Mr. Oscar Leigh. The +room over the hall was his bed-room: the room over the store was his +sitting-room; the room looking into Welbeck Place was his workshop. + +Mr. Oscar Leigh made an unclassified exception to the rule of not +wearing broad cloth in Chetwynd Street. He never was seen there in +anything else. The residents took no offence at his glossy black +frock-coat. The extreme oddness of his figure served as an apology for +his infringement upon the rules. In Chetwynd Street the little man was +very affable, very gallant, very popular. "Quite the gentleman," +ladies of the locality who enjoyed his acquaintance declared. Among +the men he was greatly respected. They believed him to be very rich, +notwithstanding that he pleaded poverty for living so high up as the +top floor of Forbes's bakery, and dispensing with a servant. Mrs. +Bolger, the old charwoman, came in the morning and got him his +breakfast, and tidied his rooms. That is she tidied the sitting-room +and bed-room. No one had ever been admitted to the workshop. Mrs. +Bolger left about noon, and that was all the attendance Mr. Leigh +needed for the day. He got his other meals out of his lodgings. + +The men of the district in addition to believing him rich credited him +with universal knowledge. "Mr. Leigh," they said, "knew everything." +They always spoke of him as "Mr." Leigh because they were sure he had +money. If they believed him to be poor or only comfortable they would +have called him little Leigh. His appearance was so uncommon they +readily endowed him with supernatural powers. But upon the whole they +held his presence among them as a compliment to their own worth, and a +circumstance for congratulation, for his conversation when +unintelligible seemed to do no one harm, when intelligible was +pleasant, and he was free with his society, his talk, and his money. + +That Thursday afternoon he walked slowly along Chetwynd Street from +the eastern end, nodding pleasantly to those he knew slightly, and +exchanging cheerful greetings with those he knew better. When he came +to the Hanover public-house, lying between him and his own home, he +entered, and, keeping to the right down a short passage, found himself +in the private bar. + +The Hanover was immeasurably the finest public-house in the +neighbourhood. The common bar was plain and rough, and frequented by +very plain and rough folk; but the private bar was fitted in mahogany +and polished white metal. There no drink of less price than twopence +was served, and people in the neighbourhood thought it quite genteel +and select. A general feeling prevailed among the men who frequented +the private bar of the "Hanover" that the only difference between the +best West End club and it was that in the former you got more display, +finer furniture, and a bigger room; but that for excellence of liquor +and company the latter was the better of the two. It was a well-known +fact that Mr. Jacobs, the greengrocer who came from Sloane Street to +get three-pennyworth of the famous Hanover rum hot, never smoked +anything less than cigars which he bought cheap of his friend, Mr. +Isaacs, at sixpence each. It was a custom for the frequenters in turn +to say now and then to Mr. Jacobs, "That's a good cigar, Mr. Jacobs; +my word, a good cigar." At which challenge Mr. Jacobs became grave, +took the cigar out of his mouth and looked at it carefully while he +held it as though making up his mind about its merits, and then said +"Ay, sir; pretty fair--pretty fair," or other modest words to that +effect. He spoke almost carelessly at such times, as though he had +something else on his mind. About once a month the thought he was +reserving followed and he added: "I bought a case of them from my +friend, Isaacs of Bond Street. They come to about sixpence each." +After this he would put his cigar back into his mouth, roll it round +carelessly between his lips, and take no more heed of it than if he +had bought it for twopence across the counter. + +When Mr. Oscar Leigh found himself in the private bar, neither Mr. +Jacobs nor anyone else was there. Behind the bar in his shirt-sleeves +was the potman who attended to the ordinary customers, and Mr. +Williams, the proprietor, in a tweed coat of dark and sober hue. + +"Good afternoon, Mr. Williams," said the new-comer, wriggling up on a +high cane-seated stool, pulling out a white handkerchief and rubbing +his face vigorously, puffing loudly the while. + +"Good afternoon, Mr. Leigh," said the landlord in a gracious and +pleasant voice. "Very hot walking out of doors." + +"Very. Will you have a brandy--a split?" + +"It's almost too hot. But I will for the sake of company, as you are +kind enough to ask me." + +The landlord busied himself getting the drinks, and then set them on +the counter. Mr. Leigh took his up, nodded to Williams, saying +laconically, "Health," to which the other responded in due form. The +hunchback drained his glass at one draught, the landlord sipped his. + +"I wanted that badly," said Leigh. "It's good stuff. Anything wrong?" +"Well, Mr. Williams, it is my breakfast and dinner--up to this." + +"Ah. That's bad. Why didn't you get your breakfast. A man isn't any +good unless he eats a hearty breakfast, I say. What's the matter, Mr. +Leigh. Anything wrong down in the country?" + +"No, no. I feel better already. As you say, that's fine brandy. Give +me another. I'm tired. I've had such a morning. I feel better, a good +deal better. Isn't it hot?" + +"Blazing. So you have had a busy morning?" + +"Yes. Oh, very busy morning, Mr. Williams, No breakfast yet, but +this," tapping the second glass of brandy and soda. "I must be careful +not to knock up my digestion, Mr. Williams. When a man's digestion is +upset he isn't fit for figures, for calculations, you know. It takes a +man all his time, and the coolest head he can saw off a brass monkey, +to make calculations such as I deal in." + +"You're a wonderful man, and I always say it." Mr. Williams was a +personable, good-looking man, with a large white face and lardy skin. +He believed that Mr. Leigh knew a vast number of things, and that he +himself had a great reserve of solid wisdom which, for reasons +undefined to himself, he kept inactive for his own secret pleasure, as +a man might hoard a priceless jewel, gloating over the mere sense of +possession. He had a firm conviction that if it were only possible to +mould Mr. Leigh's mind and his own into one, the compound might be +trusted to perform prodigies, always provided that Mr. Leigh had +little or nothing to do with the direction of its activities. + +Up to this point of the conversation it had been obvious the two men +were not speaking freely. Williams was hesitating and laconic beyond +his custom; Leigh was too vivacious, tired, exhausted. During the +pauses of their talk the pair frequently looked at one another in a +way which would have provoked enquiry. + +Mr. Williams at last made a backward jerk of his head at the potman, +and then a sideway nod of his head towards the door leading into the +bar-parlour. The gesture meant plainly, "Shall I get rid of him?" + +Leigh nodded quickly and cordially. + +"Tom," said the landlord, turning fully round and putting his back +against the bar, "the bitter is off. Go down and put on another." + +"Right, sir," said Tom, as he hurried away. + +As soon as he was out of view, and before he could be heard among the +casks and pipes, Mr. Williams turned round and said, leaning over the +counter and speaking in a whisper: "He's gone. No one can hear now." + +Mr. Leigh sprinkled some eau-de-cologne from a tiny silver flask in +his palm, buried his face in his hands and inhaled the perfume +greedily. "Hah! That is so refreshing. Hah!" The long lean hands, with +the glossy shining black hairs, shook as he held them an inch from his +face. The withdrawal of the potman seemed to have relieved him of +restraint. + +"Well," he said, laying both his thumbs on the pewter top of the +counter, and pressing hard with his forefingers under the leaf of the +counter, "you were saying, Williams----?" He looked into the face of +the other with quick blinking eyes and swayed his misshapen body +slowly to and fro. + +"I wasn't saying anything at all," said the landlord, raising his +black, thin, smooth eyebrows half-way up his pallid, smooth, greasy +forehead. + +"I know," whispered Leigh eagerly. He now drew himself up close to the +counter "I meant what you were going to say. Did you watch?" keenly +and anxiously. + +"I did." + +"At between twelve and one?" + +"Yes." + +"And did you see anything?" tremulously. + +"I did," stolidly. + +"What? Tell me what you saw?" + +"You told me a man was to come and wind up your clock, as near to +twelve as could be, and you asked me to watch him, and keep an eye on +him, to time his coming, and see that he was sharp to his hour and +that he wound up the machinery by the left-hand lever close to the +window." + +"Quite right, quite right. I wanted to find out if the fellow would be +punctual and do my work for me while I was away in the country, down +in Millway. Did you see him come? Did you see him come in through the +shafts and straps and chains?" The blinking of the eyes had now ceased +and Leigh was staring fixedly, with dark devouring eyes upon the +pallid, lardy, stolid face of the publican. + +"No, I did not see him come. The window," pointing up to the top +window of the house at the opposite corner of the road, "was dark at +twelve by our clock." + +"By _your_ clock. But _your_ clock is always five minutes fast, isn't +it? You didn't forget _your_ clock is _always_ five minutes fast?" + +"No, I did not forget that. Our clock is fast to allow us to clear the +house at closing time. But I thought he might be a few minutes too +soon." + +"He couldn't. He couldn't be a minute too soon. He couldn't be a +second too soon. He couldn't be the ten thousandth part of a second +too soon." + +Williams smiled slightly. "Couldn't be a second too soon, Mr. Leigh! +What's a second? Why _that!_" He tapped his hand on the pewter top of +the counter before and after saying the word "that." + +"Let me tell you, Mr. Williams, he couldn't have been there the one +millionth part of a second before the stroke of twelve. But go on. Go +on. I am all anxiety to hear if he was punctual. Tell me what you +_did_ see." His eyes were blazing with haste. + +"Well, you are a strange man, and a positive man too. At twelve by my +clock the room was dark. We were very busy then. I looked up again at +six minutes past twelve by _my_ clock here, a minute past twelve by my +own watch, which I always keep right by Greenwich, and it's a good +chronometer, as you know----" + +"Yes, yes," interrupted the little man hastily. "It's a good watch. Go +on!" + +"Light was in the room then. A dull light such as you have when you're +at work." + +"Yes, dim on account of my weak eyes. And by the light you saw----?" + +"I saw the man sitting in your place, and in a few seconds he began to +wind up the machinery by the lever on the left near the window." + +"You saw him working at the lever?" in a voice almost inaudible. + +"Yes." + +"You saw him often between that and closing time? between that and +half-past twelve?" + +"Well, yes, I may say often. Three or four times anyway." + +"And each time he was winding up the machinery?" + +"Now and then." + +"Hah! Only now and then." + +"About as often as you yourself would, it seemed to me." + +"And, tell me, did you see his face. Did he waste any of his precious +time gaping out of the window into the bar?" + +"He turned his head towards the window only once, while I was +watching, and I saw him plain enough." + +"What was he like? Very like me?" + +"Like you, Mr. Leigh! Not he! Not a bit like you! Stop, are you trying +if I am speaking the truth?" Williams became suddenly suspicious, +ready to resent any imputation upon his word. + +"No, no, no. My dear Williams. Nothing of the kind, I assure you. Only +I am most desirous to know all facts, all you saw. You know how well I +have guarded the secrets of my great clock. I am most anxious that no +one but this man who wound the clock for me last night should learn +anything about it. Suppose he let several people into the room, I +should have all my secrets pried into and made common property." + +"And can't he tell everybody if he cares to betray you?" + +"Not very well. He cannot. He is deaf and dumb, and can't write," with +a triumphant smile. "Describe what the man you saw was like." + +"Well, you are a wonderful man, Mr. Leigh. He was a broad-shouldered +big man with fair hair and beard. He wore a round hat the whole time, +and, like you, sat very steady when he was not winding up. + +"That's he! That's he to the life! I told him how to sit. I showed him +how to sit. And tell me, when closing time came he stood up and +wriggled out of the clock?" + +"I did not see. We were shut a minute before half-past twelve by +my own watch. I kept my eyes on him until half-past twelve. He must +have turned out the light before he got up, for the gas went out at +half-past twelve, just as he stopped working the lever." + +"Yes. And did you watch a while after, to see there was no danger of +fire?" + +"Yes, a minute or two, but all kept dark and I knew he was gone." + +"Hah! Thank you, very much, Williams. I am very, very much obliged to +you." + +"Oh, it's nothing." + +"Williams, it's a great deal. If you want to do me another favour say +nothing about the matter. I don't want anyone to know this man was in +my workshop. A lot of curious and envious thieves would gather round +him and try to get some of my secrets out of him." + +"All right. I'll say nothing." + +Leigh took out his little silver flask of eau-de-cologne, moistened +his hands with the perfume and drew the pungent fragrant vapour +noisily into his nose. "So refreshing," he whispered audibly, "So +refreshing." Then lifting his face out of his hands he held the flask +toward the landlord, saying, "Try some. It's most refreshing." + +"Pah, no," said Williams with a gesture of scorn, "I never touch such +stuff." + +"Hah! If you were like me you would. If you were always reeking with +oil, steeping in the fish-oil of machines, you'd be glad enough to +take the smell of it out of your nose with any perfume. I told you I +have been busy this morning. The want of my breakfast, and the +business I was on, pretty nearly knocked me up. Bah! The dust of that +job is in my throat still." + +"Drink up your brandy and soda and have another with me," said the +landlord encouragingly. + +"No, no. I won't have any more. Hah! it was a dusty job." + +"What was it, Mr. Leigh, may I ask?" + +"Well, you have done me a good turn in keeping your eye on that fellow +for me, and you're going to do me another good turn by saying nothing +about it; so I'll tell you. Have you ever heard anything of Albertus +Magnus?" + +"Albertus Magnums? No, I never heard of magnums of that brand." + +"Hah! 'Tisn't a wine, but a man. Albertus Magnus was a man who studied +magic, one of the greatest of the magicians of old. He attributes +wonderful powers to the powdered asphaltum of mummies." + +"Oh, magnums of Mumm? Of course I have heard of magnums of Mumm." + +"No! I don't mean wine; the mummy coffins were filled with a kind of +pitch, and Albertus attributes wonderful powers to this old pitch +which the ancient Egyptians poured hot over the dead. It was used by +the Egyptians to prevent the ravages of time upon the faces of the +dead. Now, I am going to paint the dials of my clock with mummy-pitch +to prevent time ravaging the faces of my clock. Do you see? Hah!" + +"I always said, Mr. Leigh, that you were a wonderful, a most wonderful +man." Williams's mind had been plunged by the words of the other into +a dense mist. He could see nothing and he was sure there must be a +wonderfully profound meaning in the speaker's words because he could +make nothing of them. + +"And to-day I bought a mummy, the mummy of a great Egyptian prince, +for I must have good mummy asphaltum to preserve the faces of my clock +from the influence of time. Asphaltum is a bituminous pitch, as you +know," said Leigh, getting down off the high stool and preening +himself like a bedraggled raven. + +By this time Williams began to realize that the dwarf had, for some +reason or other, with a view to use in some unknown way, become +possessed of a mummified prince. He had never before spoken to any one +who owned a mummy; he knew, by report, that such things were to be +seen in the British Museum, but he had never been inside the walls of +that crushing-looking fane of history. It was utterly impossible for +him to imagine any way in which a mummy could be employed; but this +only went to prove how necessary to Leigh a mummy must be. Now that he +came to think of the matter he found himself surprised Leigh had not +had a mummy long ago. His face relaxed into a smile. "And what are you +going to do with his royal highness?" he asked, chuckling. + +"I only want the asphaltum as a pigment." + +"But what are you going to do with his royal highness?" he repeated, +being slow to relinquish this cleverness of his, which to him had the +rare glory of a joke. + +"Oh," said Leigh, preparing to go, "I am told they burn beautifully. +What do you say to burning him as a guy in Welbeck Place on the fifth +of November? Ha-ha-ha!" and with a harsh laugh the little man hurried +out of the Hanover, leaving Mr. Williams pleased and puzzled. + + + + + CHAPTER VI. + + OSCAR LEIGH'S CAVE OF MAGIC. + + +When Mr. Oscar Leigh emerged from the door of the public house, he +crossed to the other side of Welbeck Place and moved rapidly along the +front of Forbes's bakery until he reached the private entrance to that +house. Then he opened the door with a latch-key and entered. In the +hall there was nothing but a small hand-truck standing up against the +wall. He ascended four flights of stairs, found himself opposite the +door of his flat, opened that door with another latch-key, and went +in. + +The door at the head of the stairs rose up from the edge of the +topmost step so that there was no landing outside it. The whole depth +of the landing was enclosed by the door and belonged to the tenant. +The little man slammed the door behind him and went down a passage +leading east. He came to the sitting-room, passed through it, then +through the sleeping chamber beyond and thence into a completely dark +passage, out of which opened two doors, one into the sleeping chamber +from which he had come, and one into the workshop or clock-room. The +latter door he unlocked with a small patent key. He pushed the door +open very cautiously. Before the space between the edge and the jamb +was an inch wide, some small object placed on the inside against the +door, fell with a slight noise. He now pushed boldly, entered, and +closed the door behind him. It shut with a snap and he was locked in. + +The noise of some object falling had been caused by the over-turning +of a small metal egg-cup on the floor. It had been so placed that the +door could not be pushed open from the passage without upsetting it, +for a strip of wood two inches wide was fixed on the door an inch and +a half from the ground and this ledge touched the egg-cup while the +door was shut and pressed against the upper rim of the cup the moment +the door began to move inward. Around the spot on which the vessel had +fallen spread a little pool of liquid on the floor. + +Leigh stooped, dipped the tip of his long thin left forefinger in the +liquid and then touched the top of his tongue with the wet tip of his +finger. A gleam of satisfaction and triumph shone on his face. +"Sweet," he whispered, as he straightened his crooked figure. "Sweet +as sugar! Any fool who wanted to find if his sanctuary had been +defiled by strange feet during his absence might think of placing a +vessel of water against the inside of his door There is nothing easier +than to draw it up close to the door from the outside. All you have to +do is to place the vessel on a long slip of paper in the line of the +door, and then, having shut the door, draw the paper carefully under +the door and away from beneath the vessel. The ground must be level +and the paper smooth, and you must have a nice ear and a steady hand. +Any fool could manage that. + +"Then if defiling hands opened the door and overturned the vessel and +spilt the water, and the hands belonged to a head that wasn't that +quite of a fool, the hands could replace the vessel full of water +against the shut door as it had first been placed there. But the sugar +was a stroke of genius, of ray genius! Who that did not know the +secret would think of putting sugar in the water?" Leigh touched his +tongue again with the tip of his finger. "Sweet as honey. Here is +conclusive proof that my sanctuary has been inviolate while I have +been from home. Poor Williams! A useful man in his way; very. One of +those men you turn to account and then fling on a dung-hill to rot. A +worthy soul. I have succeeded in my first great experiment. I wonder +how it goes with my dumb deputy of last night? Ha-ha-ha!" + +He turned away from the door and confronted a thicket of shafts and +rods and struts and girders and pipes and pulleys and wheels and drums +and chains and levers and cranks and weights and springs and cones and +cubes and hammers and cords and bands and bells and bellows and gongs +and reeds, through all of which moved a strange weird tremulousness +and plaintive perpetual low sounds, and little whispers of air and +motion, as though some being, hitherto uncreate, were about to take +visible life out of inertia, and move in the form of a vast harmonious +entity in which all this distracting detail of movement would emerge +into homogeneous life. + +From where Oscar Leigh stood, contemplating his machine, it would be +absolutely impossible for anything stouter than a wand to reach the +one window through the interminable complicacies of the clock. + +Again a look of satisfaction and triumph came into his narrow swarthy +face as he muttered, "Even if anyone had got as far as where I stand, +he could stir no further without unintentionally blazing his way as +plainly as ever woodman did with axe in Canadian forest." + +The framework of the clock consisted of four upright polished steel +pillars, one at each angle of a parallelogram. The pillars touched the +ceiling of the room about nine feet from the floor. One side of the +parallelogram measured twelve feet, the other ten. The sole window in +the room was in the middle of one of the larger sides of the +parallelogram, and could be approached only through the body of the +clock itself. The body of the clock close by the window was not fully +filled up with mechanism, and this free space, combined with the +embrasure of the window, made a small interior chamber, in which were +a stout high-backed easy Windsor chair, and an oak watchmaker's bench. +The framework of the clock was secured to the floor by screws. + +From the outside, where Leigh now stood leaning his back against the +wall, it was impossible to approach the window except through the body +of the clock; for the mechanism filled all the space from floor to +ceiling, and with the exception of the bay around the window, all the +space from the outer pillars to the wall. + +The main body of the mechanism within the four polished steel pillars +filled about half the room. In the remainder, which took the form of a +narrow passage running round three sides of the clock, were small +pieces of mechanism, some detached from the main body, some connected +by slender shafts or tiny bands. This passage contained a single +chair, a small oak table, and a narrow stretcher bed. + +After a long and searching look through the metallic network of the +machine, Oscar Leigh sat down on the one chair, and resting his elbow +on the table, gave himself up to thought. + +The ticking, and clicking, and clanking, and whizzing, and buzzing of +the machinery made altogether no louder sound than the noise of a busy +thoroughfare in London, and there was no perceptible vibration. In +that room Leigh was completely unconscious of sound. While all the +machinery went as designed, he heard nothing of it unless he bent his +attention upon hearing. If any movement became irregular, or any +movement that ought to go on suddenly stopped, he would have been as +much startled as though a pistol had been exploded at his ear. So long +as all went well he heard nothing of it. When he began to work at the +clock he indulged in the habit of telling himself aloud what he was +meaning to achieve with the mechanism; later he altered his method, +and told the clock what it was going to do, speaking to it as if it +were a docile child of enormous potentialities. Later still, he spoke +much aloud to himself on many subjects when in the loneliness of his +isolated lodging; he knew that distance from people secured him from +being overheard, and the sound of his own voice mitigated his +solitude. Here in this place, the sound of his own voice was often the +only way he had of assuring himself that he had still power +independent of the machine, that all his movements were not because of +some weight or spring involved in the bewildering intricacies of the +clock. + +"Ay," he said, this Thursday afternoon, crossing one of his short legs +over the other. "I have succeeded so far in my labours here. I began +my clock as an excuse, as a cloak to cover"--he waved his hand as if +to waft aside smoke before his eyes, although he was not smoking--"to +cover any other matter that might come my way. It has grown on me from +day to day, from week to week, from month to month, from year to year, +until it has swelled in size and efficacy altogether beyond my +original designs or desires. I wished to have a slave that might be +used as an excuse for solitariness and eccentricity in dealing quietly +in precious metals and precious stones, and now I find myself face to +face with a master. Whither will this master lead me? I do not know. I +do not care. I first intended this room as a chamber of mystery; it +has become a cave of magic. My heart ought to be drunk with joy. My +heart would be drunk with joy only for----" + +He paused and waved his hand once more before his eyes as if to clear +the air before him. "Only for that girl. This mere girl, this mere +Edith Grace, this mere Edith Grace whom I have seen but----" + +He paused and rose. An unusual sound in the street, aroused him. + +"What noise is that in the street? Something out of the common in +Welbeck Place." + +He caught hold of one of the polished steel pillars that formed the +framework of the breathing machine and dropped his chin on his +misshapen chest. "With care I could now become rich--no matter how. A +fortnight ago I brought all my arrangements to perfection. I have hit +upon a plan for transcending the wonders of mystery gold with its tin +and platinum and copper imposture. I have hit upon the plan of making +miracle gold! Ay! miracle gold, the secret of which will die with me +when it has served my purpose. I can be rich and give my poor old +mother every luxury and pleasure riches may secure for one so old and +so afflicted. A fortnight ago I had made up my mind to go on with the +manufacture of miracle gold. I am but a weak, fickle creature, I who +had been so firm and strong, and whole hearted! I who had been as +whole hearted as I am marred bodied! I advertise for a companion for +my poor old mother and I see this girl, this Edith Grace, with her +airs and graces and high notions. + +"I took that sight of her as a sign, as a bid for my soul, for my +better self. I said to myself, 'Will you forego the miracle gold and +cleave to her instead?' I would have given all the fair gold and foul +gold in the world for her, with her airs and graces and high notions. +A man must fill his heart with something, no matter in what kind of a +body that heart may be lodged. I had made up my mind to fill it with +the god of wealth. I had made up my mind to erect the throne of Plutus +in my soul. I would make gold, some way, and I had lighted upon an +ingenious method, an original method, an old alchemy under a new name, +and then I saw her, and my resolve was shaken, it crumbled down with +Plutus and his throne. + +"And now she will not have me, she will not rest under the roof to +which I am free, she flees from me as from vile contagion, and I am +driven back upon this miracle gold. Timmons will be here with some of +it tonight. That is the first step on the way Down---- + +"There's that noise again below. Let me see what it is." + + + + + CHAPTER VII. + + THE NEGRO JUGGLER. + + +Meanwhile two unusual things had taken place in Chetwynd Street; from +the western end (the street ran nearly due east and west) the canons +regarding broadcloth had been violated once more, for John Hanbury, +twenty-six years of age, of independent fortune, had entered it in a +black frock coat and low black felt hat, with Dora Ashton, aged +twenty, to whom he was privately engaged to be married. Dora had never +seen any of the poorer parts of London, and he, after much +expostulation and objection, consented to escort her through Chetwynd +Street, not a mile distant from Westminster Abbey. + +At the eastern end, William Sampson, Negro, and Street Entertainer, +had entered, passed down the street until he came to Welbeck Place, +and there prepared to perform, hoping to win a few coppers from the +loungers about the mews and the Hanover public-house. Men with faces +blackened by pursuit of various trades and arts were common in +Chetwynd Street; but a black man, wholly a product of nature, was a +rare visitor. + +"I--I never was in a place of this kind before, Jack," said Dora +Ashton, clinging more closely to Hanbury's arm as they moved along the +left-hand side of the street. + +"I should think not," he said shortly. He did not like the expedition +at all. He was not accustomed to wearing a round topped hat when +escorting a lady in London; but on this occasion he put one on rather +than provoke the inhabitants to throw brickbats at him. When Dora +suggested that he should wear a tweed coat he declined point blank. A +line most be drawn somewhere. + +"I'm--I'm not in--in the least afraid, Jack," she said with grave +tremulousness in her fresh voice. + +"Not in the least, of course!" he said ungraciously, scornfully. "But +you _would_ come, you know. Nice place, eh? Nice looking houses, eh? +Aren't you glad you came?" His manner was contemptuous, almost fierce. +Jack Hanbury had the reputation of being, clever, extremely clever. He +was very fond of Dora, but like many clever young men, he had a great +scorn of women when they assumed, or took an interest in things out of +their sphere. Dora knew the impetuous, volcanic nature of Jack, and, +under ordinary circumstances, admired and smiled at his outbursts, for +she knew that while they might be provoked by her, personally, they +were not directed against her personally, but against her sex +generally. + +"Indeed, Jack, you wrong me, if you think I am alarmed. I am only +surprised, not frightened." + +"You would come, you know," he repeated, a little softened. The heart +of the man would be hard indeed, if he could be insensible to the +beauty of her face and her voice, and the touch of her trembling, +confiding, delicate, brown-gloved hand. + +With a little shudder of reassurance, she looked round, "And, Jack, +are these the people who live here?" + +"Yes," he answered, moving his eyes from right to left in disdain, +"these are the people who live here. I told you they weren't nice. Are +they? How should you like to live here in _this_ part of Westminster?" + +She shuddered again and pressed his arm to convince herself of his +presence and protection. "It is of no consequence whether I should +like to live here or not----" + +"No; because you are not obliged to live here." + +"That is not what I was going to say. It is of no consequence whether +I should like to live here or not. What is of consequence is that +these poor people have to live here, Jack." + +"They aren't people at all, I tell you. The _people_ of no country are +people in the sense of fine ladies." + +"Jack!" she said, in protest and expostulation. + +"They are not people, I say. It is only philanthropists and other idle +men, and those who want the applause of the crowd, who call them +people. Look at him, for instance. There is a creature who is more +than one of the people. He is a Man, and a Brother too. Ugh!" Hanbury +turned away in disgust. + +William Sampson, the negro, a tall man with round shoulders and +restless eyes, was gesticulating violently, at the open end of Welbeck +Place, and addressing loud speech, apparently to the first-floor +windows of the houses opposite him in Chetwynd Street. + +"What is he, Jack?" asked the girl, whose composure was gradually +returning. + +"Can't you see, he's a Nigger?" + +"I know. But what is he going to do? Why is there a crowd gathering +about him?" + +The two drew up under the windows which the Negro seemed to be +addressing. A couple of dozen people had drifted near the Negro, who +was now declaring, in stentorian voice, that he undertook to perform +feats hitherto unattempted by man. + +"I don't know what he's going to do, at first. Collect money in the +end, I am certain. Conjuring; balancing straws or chairs; fire-eating, +or something of that kind. Would you like to stay and see, Dora?" His +manner softened still further, and he bent his body towards her in a +caressing and lover-like way. + +She looked up and down, apprehensively. "Yes, if you are not afraid." + +"Afraid! Afraid!" he laughed, "afraid of what? You do not think he is +a cannibal? and even if he were, they don't permit Niggers to eat +harmless English folk in the public streets of London. The days for +that kind of thing are gone by here," and he laughed again. + +She looked at him protestingly. "You know I didn't mean any such +folly. You ought to know what I did mean." + +"I confess I don't. Tell me what you did mean." + +She coloured slightly. "I meant did you think this is a fit place for +me to stand still in?" + +He became grave all at once and glanced hastily around. "No one of +your acquaintance will see you here, if you mean that." + +"Then I will stay," she answered with a little sigh. She had not +dreaded any one seeing her. Jack was very dull, she thought. + +He caught a look of disappointment on her face, and gathered from it +that he had not answered her question as she expected. He added +quickly: "They will not molest you, if that is your doubt." + +She shook her head. "I cannot bear--it's very silly, I know--I cannot +bear to hear people say dreadful things. Will that Negro swear, Jack?" + +He laughed. "That Negro swear! Oh, dear no. The Lord Chamberlain would +not license the piece if there were any bad language in it. Let us +cross over, Dora, if you would really care to see. You may be sure he +will use no bad language. He would not dare go half as far in that way +as the writer of a comedy for a Quaker audience." + +The two crossed and stood in front of Forbes's bakery, a few yards +from the thin crowd around the Negro. The people noticing that the +young girl and her companion were well dressed, fell back a little +right and left to leave a clear view of the performer. The people did +this not from servility or courtesy, but that the Negro might benefit +by the contribution from the well-off strangers. + +The Negro turned his face towards John Hanbury and Dora Ashton. He had +beside him, on the ground, two cubes of stone, one the size of an iron +half-hundredweight, the other somewhat bigger. In his hand he held a +small square of thin board. + +"Yes, ladies and gentlemen," said he, "like a great opera singer, I +earn the bread I put into my mouth with the mouth I put it into. I +have a lovely mouth," opening an enormous cavern and showing a +magnificent set of teeth, the lower row of which projected half an +inch beyond the upper. + +Dora shuddered and clung closer to her companion. Hanbury straightened +his back and squared his shoulders, and whispered: "Don't be afraid, +Dora." He was tall and powerful, and solid-looking for a man of +six-and-twenty. He could have answered for any man among the +spectators. The Negro stood half-a-head taller, and looked powerful +and stubborn. Hanbury surveyed him curiously and finished his +examination by thinking, "I shouldn't mind taking him on. I dare say +he knows how to use his fists." He himself had taken lessons with the +gloves, and was a creditable amateur in the art. Young amateur boxers +always look on every strange man as a possible antagonist. Hanbury +felt great pleasure in his own physical prowess when he thought of the +hand of the young girl on his arm and looked down at the pale olive +face and into the confiding hazel eyes. "Don't be afraid." he +murmured. + +"Yes, ladies and gentlemen," the Negro went on, "I grind my own corn +with my own mill-stones," showing his fine, large, white teeth. "Men +in Parliament are celebrated for their jaw, so am I. I am like them +all round. With my teeth and my mouth and my jaw, I get my living. +Here is my stock in trade," patting his chin and cheek and teeth, "and +I never can sell them that puts faith in me, as the Parliament men do, +for these here things of mine would be no use to anyone else, and I +couldn't sell 'em the same as votes if I would." He made a hideous +grimace, at which there was another laugh mingled with a cheer. + +This laugh brought Mr. Williams, landlord of the Hanover, to his door, +and finally into the street. He glanced at the Negro and the crowd +with benignant toleration, then turning his eyes upwards he saw Leigh +at the window, whither he had been attracted by the noise of the +crowd. The window was open, and Leigh was leaning out and watching the +group below. + +Williams called out to the hunchback, "His trumpeter isn't dead," +nodding to the Negro. "Come down Mr. Leigh, and see the fun." A man +who could afford to give good English money for a dead Egyptian prince +would surely be interested in a living African black, whom he could +see and hear for nothing. + +Leigh hesitated for a moment, then called out, "All right," and +disappeared from the window. + +Meanwhile the athlete was continuing his harangue. Such artistes are +prodigal of personal history, reticent of the feats they intend to +perform. This one told the audience his name was William Sampson, but +that the President of the United States, King Ja-Ja, and the Emperor +of China, called him Black Sam, when he dined with them in private. +"The ladies, who are to a man fond of me, call me Black Sam too. You +may laugh, but you won't see me blush when you laugh at me. You don't +find this Nigger so green as to blush because he's popular with the +ladies. Not me! I was born at midnight, in the Black Country near +Brummagem, that accounts for my dark complexion, and I'm in mourning +for my great grandfather, Adam, which accounts for my being called +Sam, and also for my nobby head of hair." + +He paused awhile, and walked round the two cubes of stone which he had +placed on the ground. He surveyed them as though they were living +animals of priceless value. Then he returned to his first position +facing Welbeck Place, and resumed: + +"I carry them stones there about with me to prove to any man, who +won't take my word for it, that I am the strongest jawed man in all +the world. Ladies and gentlemen, when I was last in America, I went +out West. You have often heard of the Rocky Mountains--there," +pointing to the stones, "there they are. Now I am going to prove my +words to you." + +"What will he do with the stones, Jack?" whispered Dora, with some +apprehension of danger. + +"Eat them," answered Hanbury in a whisper. "Didn't you hear him say +so?" + +At this point Oscar Leigh opened the side door of Forbes's bakery, the +door in Welbeck Place, and stepped into the street. + +"You're just in time," shouted Williams, across the street, "He's +going to begin." + +John Hanbury, with Dora Ashton on his arm, was standing at the curb on +the footway in Chetwynd Place against the blank wall of Forbes's +bakery. + +About fifty people, men, women, and children, were now gathered at the +head of Welbeck Place. Half-a-dozen men stood behind the Negro, +between him and the gateway of Welbeck Mews, at the end of the Place. +There was a clear view of the Negro from where Hanbury and Miss Ashton +stood, and from where Williams the landlord lounged directly opposite. +When Leigh reached Williams's side nothing intervened between him and +the stranger except the Negro. + +Leigh took up his place by the landlord, without a word, and stood +leaning heavily on his stick. He fixed his quick, piercing eyes on the +Negro. + +Black Sam had finished his introductory speech, and was getting ready +for his performance. His preparations consisted in violent gestures +menacing the four cardinal points of the heavens, and then the four +cardinal points of earth, and finally the two stone cubes on the +ground in front of him. + +Leigh watched with a cynical smile. "What is he going to do with the +stones, landlord?" + +"Try which is the hardest, his head or them," said Williams, with a +laugh. He had a great turn for humour when in the open air near his +house. + +"Then the stones are going to have a bad time?" said Leigh. + +The Negro first took up the smaller block, tossed it high into the +air, and let it fall on the road, saying, in a defiant voice, +"Eighteen pounds." Then he took the larger block, and treating it in +the same way, said, "Twenty-four pounds. The two together forty-two +pounds!" + +"And not an ounce more taken off for cash down?" said a man in the +crowd. + +"Any gentleman that doubts my word is at liberty to weigh them. If I +am a pound out, I'll stand a bottle of champagne to the men, give a +shilling's worth of jujubes to the children, and present each lady +here with a gold wedding-ring." The people laughed. + +"And a husband?" asked the man who had spoken before. + +"And the best husband in this whole country--meaning myself." He +placed his hand on his heart and bowed profoundly. + +The people were in the best of good humour, except the children, who +thought that a serious matter, such as jujubes, was being treated with +disgraceful levity. + +Then Black Sam began a series of tricks with the stones. Before +starting, he placed on the ground the square piece of white thin board +he held in his hand. It was about a quarter of an inch thick, and six +inches by four. Then he balanced a stone on the point of the first +finger of each hand, and then jerked the lesser stone from the point +of his left fore-finger to the top of the larger stone, still balanced +on the fore finger of his right hand, and kept both upright on the +point of his right fore-finger for half a minute. + +Suddenly he dropped both towards the ground together, and kicking away +the heavier one as they fell caught the lighter one on the toe of his +left foot, flung this stone into the air, and received and retained it +on his right shoulder. + +"That must hurt his shoulder dreadfully," whispered Dora. + +"Padded and resined," said Hanbury laconically, unsympathetically. He +was interested in the performance by this time. It was new to him, and +an amateur athlete is always wanting to know, although always +extremely knowing. + +The Negro stooped carefully, seized the larger stone, threw it a few +feet into the air, and caught and balanced it on the top of the +smaller one still resting on his shoulder. + +"Good," said Hanbury, in the tone of a connoisseur, who, although he +knows much, is not ungenerous. + +The people applauded out loud, and twopence were cast on the ground +close to the black man's huge feet. He smiled at the applause, and +affected to know nothing of the twopence. The mercenary spirit ought +not to exist in the bosom of the real artiste--for pence, anyway. + +Black Sam shook his back, and the two stones fell to the ground. Then +he stooped once more and took up the piece of flat white board and +placed it between his gleaming teeth, rolling back his lips so that +the spectators might see the white teeth closed upon the white wood. +His lower jaw projected enormously, even for a Negro. By no motion of +the lower jaw could its front teeth be made to meet the front teeth of +the upper. + +"Going to bolt the timber?" asked the landlord of the Hanover, with a +laugh and a wink at Leigh. + +The Negro took no notice of the question. Leigh did not see the wink. +Something more wonderful than the contortions of Black Sam had at that +moment attracted Leigh's attention. He had caught sight of Dora +Ashton; the roadway between her and him was free save for the Negro, +and Leigh's eyes had travelled beyond the burly man of colour and were +fixed on the slender form and pale olive face of the girl, with an +expression of amazement. He looked like an animal that suddenly sees +something it dreads, and from which it desires to remain concealed. He +seemed stupefied, stunned, dazed. All the scorn had gone out of his +face. He leaned forward more heavily than formerly on his crooked +stick. He appeared to doubt the evidence of his senses. + +The Negro went on with his performance. + +John Hanbury's attention was wholly absorbed in Black Sam. Leigh never +took his fascinated gaze off the girl at Hanbury's side. Hanbury was +an athlete examining the feats of another athlete. Leigh was a man +looking at the incredible, seeing the invisible, beholding in full +daylight a ghost whom he must not challenge, and whom he cannot leave. +Dora was watching with mingled fear, disgust and pity, the dangerous +gyrations of a man of pathetically low type, a man who seemed in his +own person connecting the race of man with the race of beasts, as put +forth in recent theories. + +With a piece of wood in his mouth, Black Sam made the circuit of the +little crowd. The line of gleaming white teeth upon the line of white +wood in the distorted ebony face made the head seem cut in two at the +line of the folded back upper lip, and the polished upper part of the +head with its rolling eyes, as if placed on a trencher. + +At length he took up his position in the centre of the ring. Then he +stooped, raised the lesser stone, and placed it on the piece of white +board, now at right angles to the ebony glittering face, and parallel +to the horizon. + +Then he did a thing that looked horrible. + +Still keeping the piece of white board parallel to the horizon, he +began slowly leaning his head back. This he did by gradually opening +his huge mouth from ear to ear, the piece of wood being jambed in the +angle of the jaws, and resting on the teeth of the huge undershot +lower jaw. He bent back the upper part of his head until his eyes +stared vertically into the unclouded blue sky of the June afternoon. +It appeared as if the Negro's lower jaw had been torn down from the +skull by the weight of the stone, and would presently be rent from its +place and dashed to the ground. The red palate and arch of the gullet +were visible above the white tongue of wood lying on the teeth, and +jambed into the angles of the jaws above the invisible red tongue of +the mouth. + +All eyes were fixed on the Negro, all eyes but those of Oscar Leigh. +His eyes were rivetted on the face of Dora Ashton. + +The crowd watched the Negro in breathless expectancy. Oscar Leigh +watched the girl in amazement, incredulity, fear. + +With both hands Black Sam bespoke attention. All saw and responded, +all but Oscar Leigh. He had eyes for no one, nothing but the girl +opposite him. He was in a trance of wonder. + +Suddenly, while the head remained motionless, the lower jaw of the +Negro swept upon its hinges, the piece of wood was brought into swift +contact with the upper teeth, and the stone, impelled from the +catapult formed by the muscles of the jaws, flew over the Negro's +head, and fell to the ground a dozen feet behind his clumsy heels. + +There was a shout of applause from all. + +Dora drew back with a sigh of relief. + +"I never saw anything like that," said the landlord of the Hanover to +Oscar Leigh, with the Negro in his mind. + +"Nor I," said Oscar Leigh, "anything like it," having the girl +opposite in his mind. "Pray excuse me!" He crossed the road, and +placed himself on the curb within a couple of paces of where she +stood, and stared at her furtively with unbelieving eyes. + + + + + CHAPTER VIII. + + THE JUGGLER'S LAST FEAT. + + +After the shout of applause this time fell a little shower of coppers. +The Negro, with as much rapidity as he had before shown +deliberateness, placed the heavier stone on the piece of board and +shot it still further behind him by the force of the mere muscles of +his jaws. + +"He's about done now," said the landlord of the Hanover to the air. +Leigh was no longer near, and no one else within hail seemed worthy of +a prosperous licensed victualler's speech outside his own bar and +house. Inside the portals he was a publican, outside he was a private +being with individual existence, rights and tastes, an impressively +large waistcoat and watch-chain to match, and an opinion of himself +out of all proportion with even his waistcoat or watch-chain. When +half a man is concealed from you behind a counter, his individuality +can never impress you nearly so much as when he stands forth +disenthralled from sole to crown. The ordinary man glides into his +most private aspect when he slips behind the door of his own home; the +publican when he emerges from his house. + +The Negro now took up the two stones and placing the less on the +greater and the greater on the white ledge of wood jerked them both +together over his head, as easily as he had thrown the light one by +itself. + +Then he made a gesture for silence. All the spectators were more than +attentive, all except Oscar Leigh, who with the air of one in a trance +of perplexity and wonder stole glances at the exquisite line of the +girl's cheek and forehead; no more of her face could be seen from his +position. She was bent forward and breathless with excitement. She had +often seen feats of strength and dexterity before, many more wonderful +than Sam's; but she had never until now stood in the arena with the +performer. The propinquity was fascinating, the presence horrible, the +situation novel, exciting, confounding. + +Black Sam drew the two stones towards him with his huge unhandsome +feet, and stooped down, holding the piece of wood still in his mouth. +He moved his feet a little this way, a little that, selecting their +final resting place with care. He passed the cubes back between his +legs and, setting one on the other, sat on the upper of the two, +looked up and expanding his chest drew a full breath. The people could +not now take their gaze off him if they tried. Still Oscar Leigh had +no eyes for him. He watched the girl as though his life, the fate of +his soul, depended on not losing sight of her for an instant. "She +must have seen me, and yet she does not notice me! Are her presence +here and her indifference to my presence the result of magic--of real +magic, not charlatan tricks?" he thought. + +Black Sam lifted his body a couple of inches, resting his entire +weight on his feet then passing his hands back he slid them under the +lower cube, and raised both hands from the ground, the lower cube +resting on the palms. With back bent like a bow he thrust out his +head, holding the piece of board in his mouth parallel to the horizon, +then he swung his body, first forward, then backward, and with a +prodigious effort and violent thrust of his arms and head between his +legs, threw the two cubes up into the air, straightened himself like a +flash, stepped back a pace and, still holding the piece of white board +in his enormous mouth parallel to the horizon, caught the two cubes on +it as they fell. + +There was a loud cry of exultation. Hanbury forgot the girl by his +side, forgot everything but the black man and his feat and shouted: + +"Well done by----, Nigger!" + +Dora started as though she had been stung. She had more horror of an +oath than of a serpent or a blow. She had never heard one so near her +before. The words men utter with no thought behind them beyond the +desire for emphasis had to her a meaning, not only a meaning through +the reason but through the imagination. When she heard the oath her +imagination became filled with the spectacle of an august and outraged +Presence. Profanity was more horrible to her than almost any other +crime. It was a deliberate impiety, a daring and blasphemous +insolence. + +Hanbury became conscious of the girl's presence by her abrupt +withdrawal of her hand from his arm. He turned his eyes, flashing with +admiration of the Negro's dexterity and strength. "Wasn't that good?" +he asked Dora joyously. + +She looked bewildered, and glanced hastily round as though seeking a +way of escape. She opened her mouth to speak, but no word came. + +"What is it?" he asked in alarm. "Are you not well, Dora?" + +"Oh, Jack, how dreadful! You terrify me!" + +"I--I--I," he cried swiftly, and in sore and sudden perplexity and +dismay. He had shouted out the oath without consciousness that he +spoke. In a moment his words came back upon his ears and he +recollected her dread. He flushed with confusion and remorse. "Oh, +Dora, I beg your pardon, I am miserably ashamed of myself. There is no +excuse for me; it was the act of a blackguard--worse still, Dora, of a +cad. Pray, pray forgive me." + +"I--I am frightened now," she said turning pale and swaying slightly +to and fro. She looked at the entrance to Welbeck Place; it was by +this time choked up with a dense crowd of people watching the +performance. + +"Would you like to go away dear? You look ill. Oh, pray forgive me! +What I said was forced from me by the excitement of the moment. It was +only the result of a bad habit. There was no meaning in my words." + +She began to recover her equanimity. To force a way through that crowd +would be very disagreeable to her. She replaced her hand on Hanbury's +arm saying: "No. Let us stay and see this out. I am all right again. I +am very foolish, Jack. Try to forgive me, Jack." + +"Forgive you, my darling! Forgive you for what? The only thing I can't +forgive you for is tolerating a beast like me." + +"Hush, Jack! Don't speak of it again. I am quite well now, and you are +the dearest Jack in the world, only don't say that dreadful thing any +more, it makes me quite ill. It may be silly, but I cannot help +myself. What is the Negro going to do now? Look!" + +"I don't know. I don't care. I only care for you, about you, and here +I have distressed you, shocked you. It is horrible. You feared to stay +lest the Nigger should use strong language, and now it is I, your +protector, who offends against good manners and good morals, and +outrages your ears!" He had drawn her close to him by the hand that +lay on his arm and was pouring his words in a low voice into her ears, +his eyes blazing with earnestness, his face working with solicitude +and remorse. + +"There, Jack, it is all over and forgiven long ago. If you want to +please me, let the matter rest. I am much interested in the +performance. I never saw anything like it before. Tell me what he is +doing now? I cannot make out. What does he mean by throwing himself +down in that way and lying still? What are the people laughing at? Is +he ill? Is he hurt? Why doesn't someone go to him? What do these +foolish people mean by laughing? The man is hurt? Look, look! They +cannot see. They are all in front of him. Look there! What is that +oozing under his face? Go, see, help him, Jack. Look under his face on +the ground! That is Blood!" + +John Hanbury did not move. He too had seen something was wrong. He too +saw the swelling pool of bright scarlet blood under the black face of +the Negro now lying at full length. Still, he did not move. He had +grown deadly pale and cold and limp. His head felt light, the colour +faded out of objects, and everything became a white and watery blue. +The light shivered and then grew faint and far away. Sounds waxed +thin, attenuated, confused. + +"I can't go, Dora. I am not well. I always faint at the sight of +blood," and he staggered back, dragging her with him until he leaned +against the blank wall of Forbes's bakery. She disengaged her arm from +his, and sought to support him with both her hands. His legs suddenly +bent under him, and he slipped from her grasp and fell with legs +thrust out across the flagway, and back drooping sideway and forward +partly supported by the wall. + +At that moment Oscar Leigh stepped back from his post on the curb, and +uncovering his head, bowed lowly to Dora, and said: "I beg your +pardon. Will you allow me to assist you?" + +In her haste, confusion, anxiety, Dora glanced but casually at the +speaker, saying: "It is not I who want assistance, but he." + +"I would assist even my rival for your sake," he said humbly, bowing +low and remaining bent before her. "I did not hope to meet you again +so soon. I did not think it would be my good luck to meet you once +more to-day until I called at Grimsby Street." + +The girl looked at Hanbury's recumbent form with anxiety and dread, +and then in dire perplexity at the hunchback who had just raised his +uncovered head: "If you will be so good as to help me I shall be very +much obliged. Oh! I am terrified. But I do not know what you mean by +saying you met me to-day. I have, I think, never seen you until now. +What shall I do? Is there a doctor here?" + +"He has only fainted. Never seen me before! Never at Eltham yesterday! +Not to-day! Not this morning, Miss Grace, am I mad." + +"You are mistaken. I never saw you before. My name is not Grace. My +name is Ashton, and this is Mr. John Hanbury. Oh! will no one help +me?" + +The crowd had by this time gathered closely round the prostrate Negro. +No one but Leigh was near Miss Ashton and Hanbury. + +Leigh seized Hanbury and drew him away from the wall. "The best thing +we can do is to lay him flat. So! The others are too busy with the +Nigger, and we are better off without a crowd, they would only keep +the air away. Pray, forgive and forget what I said, Miss Ashton. I was +sure you were Miss Grace, a lady I know, whom I met yesterday and this +morning. Such a likeness never was before, but I can see a little +difference now; a difference now that you look at me and speak." He +had placed the young man flat on his back, and was gazing up into the +face of the girl with a look half of worship, half of fear. + +She could not see or hear clearly. "Oh! can nothing be done for him?" +she cried pitiously. She fell upon her knees beside the prostrate man, +and raised his head in her arms. + +"Don't do that. Do not raise his head. Have no fear. I will fetch some +brandy. Here, bathe his forehead with this. I will be back in a +moment." He handed her a small silver flask of eau-de-cologne from +which he had screwed the top, and then hastened away. + +He skirted the crowd and rushed into the Hanover, crying out "Brandy!" +The place was deserted. No one in front of the counter. No one in the +bar. With strength and agility, for which none would give him credit, +he seized the top of the counter in his long arms, and drew himself up +on it, and jumped into the bar, clutched a bottle of brandy from a +shelf, and with a glass in his other hand was back over the counter +again in a minute, and hurrying to where Dora knelt beside the +insensible Hanbury. Leigh knocked the head off the bottle with a blow +of his stick, shook out half the brandy to carry away the splinters, +and poured some of what was left into the glass. + +"Can you open his mouth? Let me try. Raise his head now." He knelt +down and endeavoured to force the spirit into Hanbury's mouth. "Now, +please, stand up. Leave him to me. You are not strong." She hesitated +to rise. "Oh, pray get up! You will only make yourself ill. He will be +quite well in a few minutes." + +The girl rose. She was trembling violently. She placed one hand +against the wall to steady herself. Her breath came short and sharp. + +Leigh forced the mouth open and moistened them with brandy and +moistened the temples also. Dora, weak and pale and terrified, with +lips apart, looked out of dilated eyes down on the swooning man. + +In a few seconds he showed signs of life. His eyelids flickered, his +chest heaved, his colour began to return, he sighed and raised his +hand. Leigh lifted his head higher and forced more of the brandy into +his mouth. Then he got up, and stood waiting the result. Gradually +Hanbury came to himself, and with the joint aid of Leigh and Dora +tottered to his feet. + +"There, take some more of this," said Leigh holding out the glass to +Hanbury. The latter passed his hand across his eyes to collect his +faculties and clear his vision. + +"I must have fainted," he whispered. "Is the man dead? I fainted twice +before when I saw blood. Once at the gymnasium. Is he dead?" + +"Swallow the stuff," said Leigh. "It will put you right." He looked +around. The crowd bearing in its core the form of the Negro, was +moving through the archway at the bottom of Welbeck Place into the +Mews. "I don't know whether he is really dead or not. It looks like +it. Do you feel better?" + +"Thank you, I feel quite well again. Would you mind fetching a cab. +Dora, I am very sorry for my miserable weakness. I could not help it. +I am everlastingly disgraced. Would you be kind enough to fetch a +cab?" + +The request was addressed to Leigh, who glanced with pity and worship +at Dora, and said, without looking away: + +"Yes; I'll go for a cab. You are not able to walk yet. Stay here till +I come back. Will you have more?" He turned and held out the neckless +bottle to Hanbury. + +"No, thank you." + +Leigh threw the bottle and glass into the road and hastened off on his +errand. He had no thought of serving Hanbury. If the young man had +been alone Leigh would have left him where he stood until the +convalescent was strong enough to shift for himself. But he was under +a double spell, the spell of the extraordinary likeness between this +girl, Miss Ashton, and that other girl, Miss Grace, and the spell of +Miss Ashton's beauty. As a rule his thought was clear, and sharp, and +particular; now it was misty, dim, glorious, vague. Edith Grace had, +at first sight, wrought a charm upon him such as he had never known' +before; Dora Ashton renewed and heightened the charm and carried it to +an intolerable yearning and rapture. He was beside himself. + +"Dora," said Hanbury, after a little while and much thought, "Will you +promise me one thing?" He looked around. They were quite alone. The +crowd had followed the bearers of the Negro into the mews, through +which there was a short cut to an hospital. + +"Yes, if I can do what you ask, Jack." + +"Say nothing to a soul about my fainting. You will not tell your +father or mother, or my mother? I was able to keep the other occasions +quiet. If this got about I should have to clear out of London. I'd be +the laughing stock of the clubs. That man need not know more than he +has seen." + +"But he will return with the cab. You can ask him not to say anything +about it." + +"Come, Dora," he said, with sudden and feverish energy, "let us go. I +feel a horrible repugnance to this place." + +"But the man with the cab? He will be here in a minute," she said, +looking at him in pain and surprise. Surely he was selfish. + +"No, no. Not a second. I feel as if I should faint again. There isn't +a cab-rank within a mile, and he cannot be back for half-an-hour. +Come, Dora." + +She took his proffered arm with a view to giving, not receiving, aid, +and he hurried her along Chetwynd Street until he met the first cross +road leading north; into this he hastened, casting a quick glance +behind, and finding to his great relief that he was not followed. +After a couple of hundred yards he reduced the pace, and said: "I am +afraid, Dora, I have been going too fast for you; but I would not wish +for anything that my name should get into the newspapers in connection +with this miserable affair and place. It would be bad enough to have a +fellow's name connected with such a place as Chetwynd Street; but to +have it published that a fellow fainted there because he saw a Nigger +drop dead, would be against a fellow for life. It would be worse than +an accusation of crime--it would make a man ridiculous." + +"And I wonder," said the girl, looking up quietly at him, "how my name +would look in print connected with this miserable affair and place, +and that Negro and _you?_" + +He stopped short, dropped her arm, and looked at her with an +expression of alarm and apology. "Dora, Dora. I beg your pardon. I +most sincerely beg your pardon. There is something wrong with me +to-day. I never thought of that. You would not, Dora, be very much put +out if you saw your name connected with mine in print? Our engagement +is not public, but there is no reason it should not." + +"Under these circumstances? I should most surely not like the +publicity of the papers. But I did not think of that until you spoke +of your own name." + +He looked at her as she walked now slowly by his side. He felt cut to +the quick, and the worst of it was he experienced no resentment, was +not cheered and sustained by anger. He had allowed consideration for +his own personal risk to swallow up all consideration for everyone +else, Dora Ashton included. If a line of soldiers were drawn across +this wretched street with levelled rifles, and his moving towards them +would draw their fire into his breast, he would there and then have +marched up to them rather than that harm should touch Dora. + +It was in accordance with Dora's wishes the engagement between them +had not been announced. She had views which in the main he shared and +admired. She was intensely independent. Why should the world know they +were pledged to one another? It was no affair of the world's. But to +have her name bracketed with his in newspapers and _then_ their +engagement announced, would be hideous, unbearable to her. + +He would freely give his life to save her from hurt, but to be laughed +at--Oh! Any man who was half a man would rather die heroically than be +laughed at. To be the subject of amusing paragraphs in the sly evening +papers! To be ironically complimented on his nerve--Oh! To become a +by-word! To hear men at the clubs chuckle and whisper "Nigger!" and +then chuckle again and say louder some word that had nothing to do +with the matter! To be asked significantly if he felt better, and +recommended tonics and a bracing climate! Oh! To see the hall-porter +smile! To be asked by the waiter if he wished his coffee black! Oh! +Oh! Oh! + +"There's a cab at the end of the street," she said. + +"So there is--a four-wheeler, too." He started at her voice, and then +called the cab. "I cannot tell you how much I am ashamed of myself, +for the third time to-day," he said to her. + +"Of fainting?" she asked coldly, chillily. + +"I could not help that. No! Not--not of fainting. I was ashamed of the +fainting a few minutes ago. I was not thinking of that now. It was +wrong of me to faint, no doubt." + +"You could not help it, you know," she said coldly still. + +"I could not help it then, but I should have taken precautions against +anything of the kind by familiarizing myself with unpleasant and +trying sights. No man ought to be a----" + +"Woman," she said, finishing the sentence for him with an icy laugh. +His want of consideration had exasperated her. + +"Yes," he said gravely, "no man ought to be a woman." + +"But which is it more like a woman, to faint at a hideous sight or run +away from a paltry unpleasantness?" + +His face grew very dark. He did not answer. + +At this moment, the four-wheeler he had called drew up. Hanbury opened +the door, and handed her in. He was about to follow when she stopped +him with a gesture. "It now occurs to me that you had better go back +and see that man who was so good to me, and whom you sent for the cab +for yourself." Her eyes were flashing angrily now. + +"Why?" he asked with the door in his hand. + +"Well, I just recollect that I gave him your name and my own. You had +better see him if you want to keep our names out of the papers. Drive +on." + + + + + CHAPTER IX. + + "ONLY A WOMAN." + + +John Hanbury turned away and began retracing his steps slowly. When he +reached Chetwynd Street he looked up and down it anxiously. He saw no +appearance of anything unusual, no undue crowd, no hurrying of people; +he heard no loud talk, no excited exclamations. + +He had now completely recovered from the effect of the weakness which +had seized him a few minutes ago. He stood at the corner, and drew +himself up to his full height, with his chin well in, his head back, +and a contemptuous look on his face. + +He was dark-eyed, dark-skinned, dark-bearded, close upon six feet, +good-looking, but not handsome, and yet his face was more attractive +than most faces regularly ordered. The whole mask was extremely +mobile, and always changing when he spoke, or when the current of his +thoughts altered; a flashing and flitting light seemed to come, not +from his eyes only, but from all his face. The eyes were large and +restless, or perhaps it would be more correct to say unresting, and +when animated they flamed and burned with passion and earnestness. His +figure was thick-set for his years, but his height carried off the +bulk. He was lithe, active, hardy, and the last man anyone would +expect to faint or show physical weakness. Some men who became +illustrious surgeons have had to overcome this revulsion from blood, +and horror at the sight of it. + +He turned to the right and began walking rapidly. A few small groups +of people were gathered around the mouth of Welbeck Place, discussing +the event of that afternoon. Hanbury looked around. If that man had +come back with a cab he must have dismissed it, for no cab was in +sight. + +For a moment he paused in doubt. He approached one of the little knots +of people. "Could you tell me, if you please, where I should be likely +to see a low-sized gentleman who carries a heavy stick? I think he +belongs to this neighbourhood," said Hanbury to a man standing at the +corner, a very low-looking type of man, in a shabby jacket. + +"You mean little Mr. Leigh?" said the man. + +"I don't know his name. He is a small man, and there is something +wrong with his back." + +"It's Mr. Leigh you want," said the man. "That's him; 'e's a +humpback." + +"Yes," said Hanbury, who had waited in vain for an answer to his +question. The man in the jacket had forgotten his question. He was in +sore want of sixpence, and was wondering how he could come by the +money. On principle he had no objection to using honest means, +provided they were not laborious. He was not a good specimen of the +natives of this part of London. + +"Do you know where I should be likely to find him?" + +"Where you'd be likely to find 'im? No I don't. If 'e was about 'ere +you couldn't see 'im very heasy, 'e's that small, and 'e isn't about +hany where, as you can see if you look." The speaker had observed +Leigh go into the Hanover five minutes before, and knew he was even +now in the private bar. But then he wanted sixpence badly, and saw a +chance of making it out of this stranger and his knowledge of Leigh's +person, ways and locality. + +Hanbury looked around as if about seeking information elsewhere. The +man felt the money slipping through his fingers, and hastened to add, +"I'm hout of work, I ham, gov'nor, an' I'd be glad of hany job. +_You_'d never be hable to find 'im 'ere, but I think I could, if you +want me to." + +"Very good. If you find out for me where he is I'll give you +half-a-crown," said Hanbury, putting his hand in his trouser's pocket. + +This was a serious and perplexing matter for the man in the jacket. It +would be only right to show a pretence of earning the money, and it +would be unsafe to leave the offerer of the reward alone, for he might +fall into the hands of sharks, and so the half-crown might get into +the pocket of some one not half so deserving as he. "I'm not sure, +sir, where 'e is, but if you come with me I'll show you where I think +'e is." He led the way to the door of the Hanover, and pointing to the +entrance marked "Private" said: "If you try in there, and if you don't +find 'im I'll go round with you, sir, to all the places 'e's likely to +be in, for I'm 'ard set for what you was so kind has to promise me." +This was a very excellent way out of his difficulty. It secured the +reward in the present, and saved appearances at the expense of a +promise which he knew need not be fulfilled. + +Hanbury looked in, and seeing Leigh, paid the man in the jacket the +money and entered the private bar. The dwarf was there alone. This +apartment had few visitors until evening, and all the idle people had +been drawn off in the wake of the Negro's litter. Even Williams the +landlord had been induced by curiosity to make one of the crowd. + +"Hah," said Leigh, when he saw Hanbury come in and shut the door. "You +thought better of waiting for that cab. I wasn't very long. I am glad +you came back. I hope you are again quite well? Eh?" His words and +accent were polite--too polite the young man thought. There was a +scornful glitter in the hunchback's eyes. A huge volume bound in red +cloth lay on the polished metal counter beside him. When Hanbury saw +the volume his face flushed vividly. The book was the _Post Office +Directory_. + +"I am quite well again, thank you. I came back on purpose to see you." +He drew a high stool towards him and sat down, trying to cover his +confusion by the act. + +"Greatly honoured, I'm sure," said the other man, with all the outward +seeming of sincerity, but with that nasty glitter in the bright +deep-sunken eyes. + +"No, no," said Hanbury, with emphatic gestures of his arms. "My going +off so suddenly must have seemed strange----" + +"Oh dear no! Hah! I have often heard of men going off in a dead faint +in the same way. I was just trying to make up my mind which of the +Hanburys in the _Directory_ you were. Let me see," opening the huge +book. + +"I don't mean my--my illness. That's not what I meant when I said +'going off.' I meant that you must have been surprised at my going +away before you came back with the cab. But I was anxious to get away, +and quite confused at the moment, and it was not until the lady with +me reminded me of your kindness that I resolved to come back. I am +sure I don't know how to thank you sufficiently. Only for you I cannot +think how I should have got on. The lady----" + +"'Miss Ashton,' she told me her name was," said Leigh, with a peculiar +smile that made the young man flush again. The implication he took of +the smile being that she was able to speak when he was senseless. + +"Yes," he said with constraint; he could not bring himself to utter +her name in such a low place, a common pot-house! + +"May I ask you if you are Mr. John Hanbury?" + +"That is my name," said he, looking around apprehensively. + +"Hah! I thought so. I had the honour of hearing you speak----" + +Hanbury again looked round as though in fear of hearing his own name, +and interposed: "Please do not. You will add to the great favour you +have already done me if you say nothing of that kind. I am most +anxious to have a little conversation--private conversation with +you--this is no place," again he cast his eyes around him +apprehensively. There was no one but the potman, Tom Binns, in the +bar, and in the "public department," only the man who had got the +half-crown. + +"It is the best, the only good place, hereabouts, unless you would +condescend to cross my humble threshold and accept the poor +hospitality I can offer you." It is difficult to say where the +politeness was overdone in the manner, but the overdoing was as +conspicuous in the manner as in the words; but again allowance is +always made for people of exceptional physical formation. Hanbury +could not tell why he disliked this man and shrank from him, but he +looked on him as if he were a dangerous wild beast playing at being +tame. He did want five minutes' talk with him. It could do no harm to +accept his invitation. + +He got briskly off the stool, saying: "I shall be delighted to go to +your place with you, I am sure." + +Leigh led the way in ceremonious silence, and opened the private door +in Chetwynd Street, and bowed his guest in, saying: "I shall have to +trouble you to climb two pair of stairs. The poor of earth, we are +told, will be rich hereafter. In this life, anyway, they live always +nearest to Heaven." + +Preceded by Hanbury he mounted to his flat, and ushered his companion +into the sitting-room. + +"I am only an humble clockmaker, and in my business it is as well to +keep an eye on the sun. One cannot guard too carefully against +imposture. Pray take a chair. You were pleased to say you wished to +speak to me in private. We are alone on this floor. No one can hear +us." + +Hanbury felt greatly relieved. This was the only man who knew his +name. There had not yet been time for him to tell it to any one likely +to publish it in the newspapers. He began: + +"In the first place I have again to thank you most sincerely for your +great services to me a while ago. Believe me, I am very grateful and +shall always hold myself your debtor." + +"You are too kind. It is a pleasure to do a little service for a +gentleman like Mr. Hanbury, the great orator. If only Chetwynd Street +knew it had so distinguished a visitor it would be very proud, +although the cause in which I heard you speak in Bloomsbury is not +very popular in the slums of Westminster. However, you may rest +assured the public shall not be allowed to remain in ignorance of the +distinction conferred upon our district, this obscure and poor and +unworthy corner of Westminster. When you saw me in the Hanover, I was +preparing a little paragraph for the papers." The dwarf smiled +ambiguously. + +Hanbury started and coloured and moved his feet impatiently, uneasily. +He could not determine whether the clockmaker was sincere or not in +what he had said in the earlier portions of this speech; he was +startled by what he said at the end. "Mr. Leigh, you have done me a +favour already, a great favour, a great service. They say one is +always disposed to help one he has helped before. Do me another +service and you will double, you will quadruple, my gratitude. Say +nothing to any one of seeing me here, above all let nothing get into +the papers about it." + +"Hah," said Leigh, throwing himself back on his chair, thrusting his +hands down to the bottom of his trousers' pockets and looking out of +the window. "Hah! I see! I understand. A woman in the case," in a tone +of conviction and severity. He did not remove his eyes from the +window. + +The colour on Hanbury's face deepened. His eyes flashed. It was +intolerable that this low, ill-shapen creature should refer to Dora, +to Dora to whom he was engaged, who was to be his wife, as "a woman in +the case." Something disgraceful generally attaches to the phrase. +Anyway, there was nothing for it but to try to muzzle Leigh. He forced +himself to say calmly. "Oh, dear no. Not in the unpleasant sense. The +lady who was with me is----" + +"Miss Ashton." + +"Yes. She told me she gave you her name and mine. Well, Mr. Leigh, you +are good enough to say you remember me as a speaker in Bloomsbury. I +am seriously thinking of adopting a public career. I could not, for a +time at all events, appear on any platform of disputed principles if +this unfortunate fainting of mine got into the papers. Some opponent +would be certain to throw it in my face. Will you do me the very great +favour of keeping the matter to yourself?" + +Hanbury was extremely earnest; he leaned forward on his chair and +gesticulated energetically. Leigh swiftly turned his face from the +window and said: "It can't be done, Mr. Leigh. I suppose you will +allow that I, even humble I, may have principles as well as you?" + +"Most assuredly, and it would be bad for the community if all public +men agreed. Politics would then corrupt from stagnation." + +"Well," said the clockmaker, shaking himself into an attitude of +resoluteness. "You are a Tory, I am a Radical. Fate has delivered you +into my hands, why should I spare you, why should I not spoil you?" + +Hanbury winced and wriggled. This was very unlooked-for and very +unpleasant. "I may have spoken on a Tory platform but I have never +adopted fully the Tory programme----" + +"Tory programme, bah! There never was and never can be such a thing, +except it be a programme to cry. 'Hold on.'" + +"Well, let me substitute Tory platform for Tory programme; anyway, +whatever side I may take the publication of this affair would cast +such ridicule upon me that I should be compelled to keep off any kind +of platform for a time." + +"You are an extremely able speaker for so young a man. Mr. Hanbury, I +am afraid it is my duty to send a paragraph to the papers. A paragraph +of that kind always tells. Anything unkind and true invariably amuses +our own side and injures the other side and sticks like wax." + +Hanbury writhed. "The hideous beast," he thought. He would have liked +to throw the little monster through the window. He rose and began +walking up and down the room hastily. "Mr. Leigh, if you will not, as +a party man, let this unfortunate thing lie still, will you oblige me +personally and say nothing about it? If you do I will consider myself +under a deep obligation to you." He had an enormously exaggerated idea +of the importance of the affair, but so have most men and particularly +young men when the affair threatens to cover them with scorn or +ridicule. + +"A personal favour from me to you. On what grounds do you put the +request?" + +"On any honourable grounds you please. You said you were not rich----" + +"I did not say I was corrupt." His manner was quick, abrupt, final. +His face darkened. His eyes glittered. "Mr. Hanbury you are a rich +man----" + +"Not rich, surely." + +"You are rich compared with any man in this street. You are a rich +man. You got your money without work or risk. You are young and clever +and tall and straight and healthy and good-looking and eloquent and +dear to the most beautiful lady I ever laid eyes on----" + +"Curse him!" thought Hanbury, but he held his peace, remained without +movement of limb or feature. + +"Rich, good-looking, sound, beloved, eloquent, young. Look at me with +the eyes of your mind, and the eyes of your body. Poor, ill-favoured, +marred and maimed, loathed, ungifted in speech, middle-aged. Do not +stop me. I have no chance if I allow you, a gentleman of your +eloquence, to speak against me. Think of it all, and then work out a +little calculation for me, and tell me the result. Will you do so +candidly, fairly, honestly?" + +"Yes, indeed, I will." + +"Very well. You who are gifted as I have said, come to me who am +afflicted as I have said, and ask me to do you a favour, ask me to +sell you a favour. Suppose the favour you ask me to do you cost me +ten, at how much do you estimate its value to you?" + +"A hundred. Anything you like." + +"I am not thinking of money." + +"Nor am I. Anything ten-fold returned to you I will freely give." + +"Wait a moment. Let me think a while." + +Hanbury ceased to walk up and down, and stood in the window leaning +against the old-fashioned folding shutters painted the old-fashioned +dirty drab. + +Leigh sat with his chin sunken deeply on his chest, and his eyes fixed +on the floor. Then he spoke in a low tone, a tone half of reverie: + +"Nature deals in wonders, and I am one of them. And I in turn deal in +wonders, and there are many of them. If I chose I could show you the +most wonderful clock in all the world, and I could show you the most +wonderful gold in all the world, more wonderful a thousand times than +mystery gold. But I will not show you these things now. I will show +you a more wonderful thing still. Will you come with me a little way?" + +"Yes, but you have not set me that question in arithmetic yet." + +"I cannot do so until you have come a little way with me. I want to +show you the most wonderful thing you ever saw." + +"May I ask what it is?" + +"_You_ need not be afraid." + +"Why need not I be afraid?" + +"Because _you_ are not hump-backed and chicken-breasted and lop-sided +and dwarfed and hideous." + +"But what are you taking me to see?" + +"Something more wonderful and more precious than any mystery gold, +than my own miracle gold or my clock, and yet of a kind common +enough." + +"What?" + +"A woman." + +"But why should I go?" + +"Come, and if you ask me that when you have seen, I will ask nothing +for my silence." + +"Only a woman?" + +"Only a woman." + +They descended the stairs. + + + + + CHAPTER X. + + LEIGH PROMISES ONE VISIT AND PAYS ANOTHER. + + +That morning when Edith Grace fell asleep in the corner of the +third-class carriage, on her way from Millway to London, she sank into +the most profound unconsciousness. No memory of life disturbed her +repose. No dreams intruded. The forward movement of the train was +unheeded. The vibration did not break in upon her serenity. At the +various stations where the train stopped people got in or out, the +door banged, men and women talked to one another, the engine shrieked, +and still Edith not only slept, but slept as peacefully and free from +vision or fear as though all were silent and at rest. Before closing +her eyes she took fully into her mind the friendly porter's assurance +there would be no need to change her carriage between Millway and the +end of her journey. + +When she opened her eyes they had arrived at Grosvenor Road, where +tickets are taken up for Victoria. She was conscious of being shaken +by the shoulder; she awoke and saw opposite her a stout, kind-faced +countrywoman, with a basket on her arm. The woman said: "This is +Grosvenor Road. We are just at Victoria. They want your ticket." + +Two other women were in the carriage--no man. A ticket-collector +standing at the door, impatient of delay, was flicking the tickets in +his hand. + +She started and coloured, and sat upright with all haste and began +searching quickly, anxiously, despairingly. Her memory up to the +moment of giving the money to the friendly porter was perfect. After +that all was dim until all became blank in sleep. She could not +clearly recollect the man's giving her the ticket. She remembered a +dull sensation in her hand, as though she had felt him thrust the +ticket into it, and she remembered a still duller sensation of peace +and ease, as though she believed all was right till her journey's end. +Then came complete oblivion. She was now burning with confusion and +dismay. + +"Ticket, please, the train is waiting." + +"I--I can't find my ticket." + +"Pray, try. The train is waiting." + +"I cannot find it." + +The collector said nothing, but made a sign, and entered the +compartment. The train moved on. "Try your pockets well, miss," said +the collector civilly; "you are sure to find the ticket. You had one, +of course?" + +She tried her pocket and stood up and looked around her. Misfortunes +came thick upon her. She had but just escaped from Eltham House, had +thrown up her situation, had been wandering about the country all the +morning, and now was back in London without a ticket or a sixpenny +piece! People were sent to prison for travelling without a railway +ticket. She had slept nothing last night, was she to spend this night +in gaol? She sat down in despair. + +"Indeed, I cannot find it." She was white now, and the trembling with +which she had been seized on finding her loss had gone. She was pale, +cold, hopeless, indifferent. + +"Where did you come from?" + +"Millway. I got in at Millway. The porter said he would get my ticket +for me. I gave him all the money I had, only enough for the ticket, +and----" + +"Did he give you the ticket?" + +"I don't know." + +"Don't know! Don't know whether he gave you the ticket or not?" The +collector's manner, which had been sympathetic and encouraging, +hardened into suspiciousness. + +"I do not know. I fell asleep in the carriage, and did not wake up +until just now. What shall I do?" + +"You will have to pay your fare from Millway." + +"But I can't. I told you I haven't any money. I gave it all to the +porter." + +"If you haven't a ticket and can't pay it will be a bad job. Is it +likely any friend of yours will be waiting for you at the station?" + +"Oh, no! I am coming up quite unexpectedly." + +"It's a bad job, then," said the collector. + +"But you will let me go home? You will not keep me here? You will not +detain me?" she asked piteously. Her indifference was passing away and +she was becoming excited at hideous possibilities conjured up by her +imagination while the train glided slowly into the terminus. + +"I don't know. We must see what the Inspector says." + +The train had stopped and the two other women got out, the one who had +spoken to her saying: "I hope it will be all right, my dear. You don't +look as if you was up to anything bad. You don't look like one of them +swindling girls that they sent to prison for a fortnight last week." + +"Oh, my God!" cried Edith piteously, as she stepped out on the +platform. She covered her face with her hands and burst into tears. + +She was one of the last passengers to leave the train and the shallow +fringe of alighting passengers had thinned and almost cleared away. +She felt completely overwhelmed, as if she should die. She caught with +one hand the side of the open carriage door for support, and kept the +other hand before her face. She ceased to sob, or cry or weep. The +collector and two guards were standing round her, waiting until she +should recover herself. Presently a fourth man came up slowly from the +further end of the train and stood among the three men. + +"What is the matter?" he asked softly of one of the guards. "Has +anything happened to the lady? Is she ill?" + +A shiver went through Edith. There was something familiar in the +voice, but unfamiliar in the tone. + +"Lost her ticket and hasn't got any money. We have sent for the +Inspector," answered the collector. + +"Pooh, money," said the new-comer contemptuously. "I have money. Where +has the lady come from? How much is the fare?" + +"Come from Millway," answered the collector. + +"Millway! So have I. What class? First?" + +"No; Third. Five and twopence." + +"Here you are." The new-comer held out his hand to the collector with +money in it. + +"This gentleman offers to pay, miss," said the collector turning to +Edith. "Am I to take the money?" + +The girl swayed to and fro, and did not answer. It was plain she heard +what had been said. Her movement was an acknowledgment she had heard. +She did not answer because she did not know what to say. Two powerful +emotions were conflicting in her. The feeling of weakness was passing +away. She was trying to choose between gaol (for so the matter seemed +to her) and deliverance at _his_ hands. + +"Of course, the lady will allow me to arrange this little matter for +her. She can pay me back at any time. I will give her my name and +address: Oscar Leigh, Forbes's bakery, Chetwynd Street." + +"Am I to take the money, miss? We are losing time. The train is going +to back out. Here's the Inspector. Am I to take the five and twopence +from this gentleman?" + +"Yes," she whispered. She loosed her hold upon the carriage door, but +did not take down her hand from her face. + +The collector wrote out and thrust a ticket into her disengaged hand. +The touch of the hand recalled the dim memory of what had happened +earlier that day. Her fingers closed firmly, instinctively, on the +paper. + +"Now, miss, it's all right. Please stand away. The train is backing +out." + +She dropped her hand from her face, moved a pace from the edge of the +platform and looked round. She knew she should see him with her eyes, +she had heard him with her ears. She shrank from the sight of him, she +shrank still more from the acknowledgment she should have to make. + +Leigh was standing in front of her, leaning on his stick and gazing +intently at her. With a cry of astonishment he let his stick fall and +threw up his arms. "Miss Grace! Miss Grace, as I am alive! Miss Grace +here! Miss Grace here now!" + +He dropped his arms. His cry and manner bereft her of the power of +speech. She felt abashed and confounded. She seemed to have treated +badly this man who had just delivered her from a serious and +humiliating difficulty. + +"Pray excuse me," he said, bowing low and raising his hat as he picked +up his stick. "The sight of you astonished me out of myself. I thought +you were miles and miles away. I thought you were at Eltham House. To +what great misfortune does my poor mother owe your absence? You are +not--please say you are not ill?" + +"I am not ill." It was very awkward that he should speak of his +mother's loss, of her abandoning his mother. She had felt a liking in +their short acquaintance for the poor helpless old woman. She had come +away without saying a word to Mrs. Leigh. True, she had left a note, +and as she was quitting the place that morning the note had not been +where she had placed it. Perhaps it had merely been blown down or +knocked away by the wind or by herself, or by him in the dark. She was +conscience-stricken at having deserted Mrs. Leigh, she was bewildered +at the inconsistency of his words now, and his visit to that room from +which he believed she had fled last night. She had, too, overheard him +say to his mother that he would put something right in Eltham for her +this day. She had gathered he had had no intention of leaving Eltham +until about noon, and it was not nine o'clock yet! He surely did not +know she was in that dark room when he made the soliloquy. To suppose +he thought she was there would be madness. He knew at that time she +had left the house with the intention of not returning and he believed +she had not returned. How then could he imagine she was still at +Eltham? Why had he left Millway so early? Ah, yes, of course, as far +as that went, Mrs. Brown must have discovered her flight on missing +the key of the gate from its hook in the little hall of the +gate-house. She must have given information and he must have come up +by this train, but why? Ah, the whole thing was horribly confused, and +dull, and dim, and she heard a buzzing in her ears. + +All this went through her mind as quickly as wind through a tree, and +like wind through a tree touching and moving the many boughs and +branches of thought in her mind simultaneously. + +Leigh, upon hearing her say "I am not ill," drew back with a gesture +of astonishment and protest, and said, "You were not ill, and yet you +fled from us, Miss Grace! Then we must have been so unfortunate as to +displease Miss Grace unwittingly. But you are tired, child, and I am +inconsiderate to keep you waiting. You are going where?" His voice +became suave and gracious. His manner showed to advantage contrasted +with his half sly and wholly persistent manner of yesterday. + +"I was going home to Grimsby Street." + +"Then this is our way. You have no baggage, I presume?" + +"No, I left it behind me. I also left a note----" + +"Hah! Here we are. Now Miss Grace, you must be far too tired and put +out by your early journey and this most unpleasant experience on the +platform to be allowed by me to speak a word of explanation. Pray step +in. I shall call to enquire how you are later in the day." + +He hurried her into a four-wheeler and gave the driver his fare and +the address before she had time to hesitate or protest. Then he turned +briskly away, and leaving the terminus, clambered to the top of an +omnibus going east. + +When he arrived at the Bank he descended. He looked sharply around, +and after scrutinizing the faces of all those standing or moving +slowly near him, walked rapidly a few hundred yards back over the way +the omnibus had come, along clattering and roaring Cheapside. Then he +pulled up suddenly, and cast quick, furtive glances at the men on +either side, particularly those who were standing, and those moving +slowly. + +It was certain Oscar Leigh was trying to find out if he was watched. + +"Hah!" cried he under his breath. "No one. All right." He then turned +into one of the narrow streets leading south out of the main +thoroughfare and walked rapidly. Here were large, slow-moving vans and +carts and drays in the roadway and a thin stream of men, with now and +then a woman of homely aspect and dingy garments, hurrying by. As one +walked it was quite possible to take note of every person and no one +escaped the dark flashing eyes of Leigh. In the eyes of City men when +they walk about through the mazes of their own narrow domain there is +always an introspective look. They are not concerned with the sticks +and stones or the people they encounter. They know every stick and +stone by rote and they are not abroad to meet people in the street, +but to call upon people in warehouses, shops, or offices. Their eyes +are turned inward, for their minds are busy. As they step swiftly +forward they are devising, inventing, calculating, plotting, planning. +They are on their way from one place to another and all the +things they pass by are to them indifferent. They have the air of +sleep-walkers who have only their bournes in their minds and are +heedless of all things encountered by the way. + +Oscar Leigh was the very opposite to the denizens of the City. His +whole attention was given to his environment. He kept on the left-hand +pavement and close to the houses so that he could see all before him +without turning his head. Thus he obviated any marked appearance of +watchfulness. + +When he came to a cross street he stood still, looked back and mopped +his forehead with his handkerchief. He waited a minute and then, +muttering again a satisfied "Hah! No one," struck into the cross +street by the left and proceeded very slowly. This was a still +narrower artery than the former one. When he reached the end of it he +paused once more, and stood regarding the ground he had just covered. +It was plain that by this time all anxiety had been removed from his +mind. + +He faced about, threading his way through alleys of great secrecy and +gloom and silence, and moved in a south-easterly direction until he +emerged at the head of London Bridge. + +He crossed the river on foot, and keeping to the right through mean +streets out of Borough High Street found himself in London Road, where +from noon to midnight, all the year round, a market for the poor is +held on the pavement and in the kennel. + +He crossed this street and entered another, Tunbridge Street, the +dirtiest and dingiest one he had yet traversed. It seemed given up +wholly to vehicles out of work. Here were a couple of dozen large, +unhandsome, stores, warehouses and small factories, and half-a-dozen +of very poor houses, let in tenements. An ill-smelling, close, foul, +low-lying, little-used street. + +The ground floor of one of the houses was devoted to commerce. The +floor, as far in as one could see, was littered with all kinds of +odds and ends of metal machines and utensils and implements. On a +washed-out blue fascia-board, in washed-out white letters, over the +door, were the words "John Timmons," in large letters, and beneath in +small letters, once black and now a streaky grey, "marine store +dealer." Into the misty twilight of this house of bankrupt and +forgeless Vulcan Leigh disappeared. Any one passing down Tunbridge +Street a quarter of a minute after he stepped across the threshold +would not have been able to detect any living being in the business +establishment of Mr. John Timmons, marine-store dealer. + +But if a listener had been at the back of the store, behind the boiler +of a donkey-engine, or leant over the head of the dark cellar in the +left corner, he would have heard the following dialogue carried on by +careful whispers in the darkness below: + +"Yes. I have come back sooner than I expected. I went to Birmingham +yesterday morning to consult a very clever mechanist there about the +new movement for the figures of time in my clock--Hah!" + +"You told me you were going away, but I thought it was to Edinburgh." + +"Hah!" said the former speaker, "I changed my mind about Edinburgh and +went to Birmingham instead. I thought when I was speaking to you last +that Edinburgh would be best, but I got the name of the best man in +Birmingham and went to him instead. My friend in Birmingham not only +put me right about the new movement, but when I told him I thought I +was on the point of perfecting my discovery of the combination in +metals he told me he would be able to find a market for me if I was +sure the new compound was equal to representation. Of course, I told +him the supply would be limited until I could arrange for a proper +laboratory and for help. I explained that no patent could protect all +the processes of manufacture and that for the present the method must +be a profound secret. I also told him I proposed calling my invention +Miracle Gold." + +"No doubt about no patent being sufficient to protect. You were right +enough there. Ho-ho-ho-ho." + +"It was best to say that. Anyway, he is ready to take any quantity, if +the thing is equal to representation." + +"There's no doubt it will be. Ho-ho-ho-ho." + +"I told him my great difficulty at present, was the colour--that it +was very white--too like Australian gold--too much silver." + +"Ho-ho-ho-ho, that was clever, very clever. You are the cleverest man +I ever met, Mr. ----." + +"Hah--stop. Isn't it best not to mention names here?" + +"Well, it's always best to be on the safe side and even walls can't +tell what they don't hear, can they?" + +"I told him also that for the present the quantity would be small of +the miracle gold, but that I hoped soon to increase the supply as soon +as I got fully to work." + +"That's true." + +"He says he will take all I can make, no matter how much, if it is +equal to representation----" + +"Ho-ho-ho-ho! Equal to representation! That's splendid. I can't help +laughing at that." + +"No. It was clever of me. But the affair is hardly a laughing matter. +May I beg of you not to laugh in that way again? I dare say the most +uncomfortable place after a prison into which anyone goes is a grave, +and this place looks and smells like a grave. Besides, there is +fearful danger in this affair, fearful danger. Pray don't laugh." + +"But you will go on with the thing now?" + +"Yes, I will go on with it. But, observe, I cannot increase my risk by +a grain weight. I am already risking too much. I deal, mind you, with +nothing but the _alloy_." + +"I don't want you to deal with anything else. You know nothing of the +matter beyond the alloy. What did the Birmingham gentleman say the +stuff would be worth?" + +"In the pure metal state?" + +"Of course. After you are done with it?" + +"Hah! He will not say until he has a specimen. When can you have some +ready?" + +"Now. This minute. Will you take it away with you?" + +"No, not now. What are you doing tonight?" + +"Nothing particular." + +"Can you come to my place between twelve and half past?" + +"Certainly." + +"Without fail?" + +"I'll be there to the minute you say." + +"Very well. Let it be twelve exactly. I have a most excellent reason +of my own for punctuality. Bring some of the alloy with you. Knock at +the door once, one knock, the door in Chetwynd Street, mind. I'll open +the door for you myself. Mind, not a word to a soul, and above all +don't go into the Hanover hard by. I have reasons for this--most +important reasons." + +"Do not fear. I shall be there punctually at twelve. I never go into +public houses. I can't afford it. They are places for only talking and +drinking and I can't afford either. Are you going?" + +"Yes. I must run away now. The National Gallery folk are in a fog +about a Zuccaro. They are not certain whether it is genuine or not. +There is a break in the pedigree and they will do nothing until I have +seen the picture and pronounced upon it. Good-bye. Twelve sharp." + +"Good-bye. I'll not keep you waiting for me to-night." + +Oscar Leigh came quickly out into Tunbridge Street and thence into +London Road, and got on the top of an omnibus going north. He changed +to the top of one going west when he reached Ludgate Circus. + +If you have sharp eyes, and want to see with them that you are not +followed, the top of an omnibus is an excellent way of getting about +through London. + +Leigh alighted from the second omnibus at Charing Cross, and walked +from that straight to the Hanover in Chetwynd Street. The nation was +not that day made richer by his opinion of the genuineness of the +alleged Zuccaro, nor had he up to this moment conceived the +advisability of inventing the mummified Egyptian prince, much less of +buying his highness, with a view to painting the dial of his clock +with the asphalatum from the coffin. + +He had spent the time between his arrival at Victoria and his brandy +and soda with Williams at the Hanover in going to and coming back from +Tunbridge Street, and in his visit to John Timmons, marine-store +dealer. + + + + + CHAPTER XI. + + STRANGER THAN MIRACLE GOLD. + + +Grimsby Street, where Mrs. Grace, Edith's grandmother, had lodgings, +to which Edith Grace had been driven that morning from Victoria, is +one of the humble, dull, dingy, thoroughfares formed of small private +houses in Chelsea. The ground here is very low and very flat. The +houses have all half-sunken basements, bow windows on the first +floor and two floors above. They are all painted of the same light, +washed-out drab. They all have light drab Venetian blinds. All have +tiny areas paved with light drab flags; all three steps rising six or +eight inches each from the front gate to the front door. All have six +steps descending from the flagged passage to the dark drab, blistered +low house-door under the steps. The aspect of dull, respectable +mediocrity of the whole monotonous street is heart-breaking. The sun, +even of this cloudless June day, did not brighten it. The sun cannot +make washed-out drab look pleasant. From end to end is not a tree or +shrub or creeper, not even a single red brick to break the depressing +uniformity; the chimney-pots are painted drab too. The area-railings +are all black. All the doors are the colour of unpolished oak. The +knockers flat and shapeless and bulged with blistered paint. + +Mrs. Grace lived at Number 28, half-way down the street. She rented +the first floor unfurnished. She had lost some money in the disaster +which swallowed up her granddaughter's little all. The utmost economy +now became necessary for the old woman, and she had resolved to give +up the tiny room until now Edith's. + +Mrs. Grace was a tall, well-made woman, of seventy years, very upright +and youthful in manner for one of her years. She was of quick nature, +and looked upon all matters from an extremely optimist or pessimist +point of view. This disposition had little or no effect upon her +spirits. It afforded her as much satisfaction to consider the direst, +as the pleasantest, results. She was uniformly good-natured, and +always saw the hand of beneficent Providence in calamity. + +That Thursday morning when Edith alighted from the cab, Mrs. Grace was +sitting in her front room window looking out at the placid, drab +street. With an exclamation of surprise and dismay she ran down +stairs, let the girl in, embraced and kissed her vehemently, crying, +"My darling! my darling child! What has happened? Is there no such +place at all as Eltham House, or has it been burned down?" + +Edith burst into tears. She was not given to weeping, but the relief +at finding herself at home, after the anxiety and adventures through +which she had gone, broke her down, and, with her arm round the old +woman's waist, she led Mrs. Grace upstairs to the sitting-room. + +"Sit down, dear. Sit down and have your cry out. Take off your hat and +rest yourself. Have you had your breakfast? Did you find Mrs. Leigh +dead? or has there been a railway accident? Have your cry out. I am +sorry I ever let you away from my sight. You are not hurt, are you? +Where is your luggage? I declare that cabman has driven off with it. I +must get someone to run after him. Did you take his number?" + +"No, mother." Edith called her grandmother simply mother. It was +shorter than grandmother, and more respectful than granny. "I have no +luggage with me. I left it at Eltham House. No accident has happened. +Simply I did not like the place. I could not stop there. I felt +strange and lonely and afraid, and I came back. I ran away." + +"And quite right too, dear. I am very, very sorry I ever let you go +away from me. I am sure I do not know how I have got on since you left +me. I thought of telegraphing you to come back. But it's all right now +that you are here again, and I shall take good care you do not go off +from me any more until some fairy prince comes for my child. We shall +be able to live some way together, dear. With a little economy we need +not be separated. Your room is just as you left it; nothing stirred. I +hadn't the courage to go into it. Go into your own room, pet, and take +off your things." She took Edith by the hand and led her to the little +room which had been hers so long, and which seemed so secure after +that large chamber in which she had spent so many minutes of anxiety +and fear at Eltham House. + +Then, in few words, she told all to the old woman, omitting the visit +of Leigh to the room when he believed her to be gone. She explained +her flight by saying this Mr. Leigh had wearied her with attentions. +She said nothing about his having asked her to let him kiss her +patriarchally. She wound up by declaring she could not endure him and +his objectionable devotion, and that she had come away by the first +train, having left a note to say the place did not suit her, and that +her luggage was to be sent after her. Then she told of the loss of her +ticket and Mr. Leigh's opportune appearance, and last of all, of his +promise or threat of calling. + +The story, as it met the ears of Mrs. Grace, did not show Leigh in a +very offensive light. No doubt he had been at Eltham House when Edith +arrived, and that gave the girl an unpleasant shock, for which she was +not prepared, and which coloured all her subsequent thoughts of him. +She had been a little put out, or offended, or frightened. She had +gone to her room, locked the door and slipped away back to London next +morning. That was all, and the old woman made much of getting the girl +home again, and dwelt little on the reason of her flight. She put down +the cause of flight to an over-sensitive young girl confronted for the +first time with vulgar admiration and the cold world beyond home. + +Edith confessed to have eaten no breakfast, and slept nothing during +the night, so Mrs. Grace insisted upon her taking food, and lying down +awhile in her room. Then she came away, shutting the door softly +behind her, and sat in the window-place of the sitting-room to think +over the affair. + +Thought with Mrs. Grace was never logical or consequential, and at the +present moment the delight of regaining Edith coloured her ideas with +pleasant hues. It had been sorely against her grain she allowed the +girl to go from her at all. Nothing but her granddaughter's emphatic +wish would have brought her to consent to it. Before they lost their +money they had had enough for modest luxury in these cheap lodgings. +All Edith's money had been engulfed, and some of her own. There was +still enough for the existence of two. Edith was not fit for the +world, and this experience afforded convincing evidence that no other +experiment of the kind should be tried. + +When the little man, Leigh had come to arrange about Edith, she looked +on him with scant favour. He was about to take the child from her. He +had told Edith he would call later to-day to ask how she had got on. +She should receive him with pleasure. No doubt he had persecuted Edith +a little, and the girl had been put out and frightened. But was not +this very persecution the means of driving Edith back to her home? And +were not his attentions not only a proof, if proofs were needed, of +the girl's beauty, but also of the unadvisability of letting her stray +from her side? That argument would be conclusive with Edith when they +talked the matter over quietly. If a man of this man's appearance had, +under the potent spell of her beauty, so far forgotten himself as to +offer her marked attentions, how much more persistent and emphatic +would be the homage drawn towards her from other men. Her good looks +had turned the head of this Leigh until he forgot his deformities. +Could she expect other men, men of fair proportions, would be more +insensible or less persistent? + +Mrs. Grace did not believe Edith had any insuperable objection to +marriage, or the notion of a suitor. But she knew the girl's pride of +family would prevent her ever attorning to the attentions of an +admirer who was not a gentleman. The Graces of Gracedieu, in +Derbyshire, had come over with the Norman William, and although her +own husband had been only the poor cadet of that house, and her son, +Edith's father, a lawyer, who died young, leaving little for his widow +and orphan, Edith was as proud of her lineage as though through her +veins ran "all the blood of all the Howards." Indeed Edith had +somewhat strained and fantastic theories of family and breeding and +blood. She had always impressed upon Edith that she was a lady by +birth and breeding. Edith was disposed to assume that she was a +duchess by descent. There was no haughtiness or arrogance in her +grand-daughter; the girl was extremely simple, and gentle, and +good-natured; but she kept aloof from the people round her, not out of +disdain, but because of the feeling that she was not of them, that +they would not understand her or she them, and that they by her +presence would only be made unhappy in reflecting on their own humble +origin. + +When Edith first declared her resolution of earning her own bread, and +going out as a governess or companion, Mrs. Grace had made sure this +pride of family or birth would successfully bar the way to any +bargain, and when the bargain was struck with Mr. Leigh, she felt +confident the arrangement would not last long. The end had come sooner +than she had dared to hope, and she was delighted. She was thankful to +Leigh for being the cause of Edith's failure to rest from home. + +Another aspect of the affair was that Edith had come away from Eltham +House suddenly, without leave, and without notice. This Mr. Leigh was +to call. If he chose to be disagreeable he might urge that breach of +contract and something unpleasant might arise from Edith's hasty act. +The best thing to do was to see the man when he came, and be polite to +him. If he had been a little impudent, over attentive, that was not a +very great fault, and all chance of repetition was past. He had been +most useful to Edith that morning when she found she had no ticket. Of +course, she should pay him the money back--that is, if she had it in +the house, which she doubted--and, of course, she should thank him for +his goodness to her darling daughter. No duties could be plainer than +these. Edith too must apologise for her flight, and thank Mr. Leigh +for his kindness to her this morning. That was obviously necessary, +and then all the unpleasantness would be as though it had never taken +place. + +Off and on Mrs. Grace sat at the window until afternoon. At one +o'clock she ate a light luncheon; having by a visit to Edith's room +found that the girl slept, she let her sleep on. In health, after +fatigue and excitement, no one should be waked for food. When the old +woman had finished her meal, and the table was cleared by the +landlady's daughter who attended upon the lodgers, Mrs. Grace took her +work and resumed her place by the window. + +Time slipped away, and she began to think that after all Mr. Leigh +might not come, when, lifting her eyes from her work, she saw two men +cross the road and approach the house. One of these was the dwarf, the +other a complete stranger to her, a tall, powerful-looking young man +in a frock-coat and low crowned hat. The two seemed in earnest +discourse. Neither looked up. The younger man leant over the elder as +if listening intently. They disappeared from view and Mrs. Grace heard +them ascend the steps and knock. She hastened to Edith, whom she found +just awake and told her Mr. Leigh had arrived. Then she went back to +the sitting-room and, when word came up that Mr. Leigh and a friend +wished to see her, sent down an invitation for the gentlemen to come +up. The two were shown in. + +"I do myself, Mrs. Grace, the great pleasure and honour of calling +upon you to inquire after Miss Grace, and I have taken the liberty of +asking my friend to keep me company," said the little man, bowing +profoundly and sweeping the ground with his hat. His tones were most +respectful, his manner intensely ceremonious. + +Mrs. Grace, waving her hand to a couple of chairs, said: "I am glad to +see you and your friend, Mr. Leigh. Will you, please, be seated." + +"Mrs. Leigh, my friend, Mr. John Hanbury, whose fame as a public +speaker is as wide as the ground covered by the English language." + +"Very happy, indeed, to make Mr. Hanbury's acquaintance, and very much +honoured by Mr. Hanbury's call," said the old lady bowing again, and +then sitting down with another gesture towards the chairs. + +The two men sat down. Hanbury felt uncomfortable at Leigh's bombastic +introduction, but at the moment he was completely powerless. He felt +indignant at this man calling him a friend, but Leigh had it in his +power to make him seem ridiculous over a good part of London; there +was nothing for this but to grin and bear it. + +"Mr. Hanbury and I happening to have business this way, and I +remembering my promise to call and enquire how Miss Grace is after her +journey this morning, I thought I'd presume on your kindness and bring +him with me." + +Mrs. Grace said no apology was necessary, that she was glad Mr. Leigh +had brought his friend. + +Hanbury winced again. What had this man brought him here for? What was +the meaning of his hocus-pocus talk about miracle gold. Was this poor +fellow as misshapen in mind as in body? Who was this old woman? Could +she be the woman he had spoken of? Nonsense. She was a lady, no doubt, +not the kind of woman you would expect to find in such a street of +Chelsea, but what then? What of her? + +"I hope Miss Grace has taken no harm of her fright?" + +"No, thank you, Mr. Leigh? I am sure I don't know what she would have +done only for your opportune appearance on the scene. Here she is, to +thank you in person." + +The two men rose. + +The door opened and Edith Grace, pale and impassive, entered the room. + +Hanbury made a step forward, and cried, "Dora!" + +The little man laid his hand on the young man's arm and held him back. + +Hanbury looked down at the dwarf in anger and glanced quickly at the +girl. + +"My grand-daughter, Miss Grace--Mr. John Hanbury, whose speeches I +have often asked you to read for me, Edith." + +Hanbury fell back a pace and bowed mechanically like one in a dream. +He looked from the dwarf to the girl and from the girl to the dwarf, +but could find no word to say, had no desire to say a word. He was +completely overcome by amazement. The presence of five thousand +people, with eyes fixed in expectation upon him, would have acted as a +powerful stimulant to composed exaltation, but the presence of this +one girl half stunned him. + +He was dimly conscious of sitting down and hearing a long explanation +about trains and disinclination to leave home and regrets and cabs, +but nothing of it conveyed a clear idea to his mind. He gathered +vaguely that this girl, who was one of the Graces of Gracedieu in +Derbyshire, had arrived in London that morning without ticket or +money, and the dwarf happened providentially to be in the same train +and paid the fare for her. + +What he heard left little or no impression upon him except when she +spoke. All his attention was fixed in wondering regard upon her face +and form. + +It was not until Leigh and he were in the street once more that he +recovered from the shock and surprise. + +"That is the most marvellous thing I ever saw in all my life," said +he, as the two walked away. + +"Yes," said Leigh, "the most marvellous." + +"I can scarcely believe it even yet," said Hanbury in a tone of +reverie. + +"When you fainted in Welbeck Place," began the dwarf with great +emphasis and deliberation. + +"Ay," said Hanbury with a start and in a voice of sharp and painful +wakefulness. For a while he had forgotten why he had so uncouth a +companion. + +"When you fainted in Welbeck Place," repeated Leigh coldly, steadily, +"I went over to where you were lying, took off my hat to your young +lady----" + +"Eh?" interrupted Hanbury, with a grimace. "Great Heavens," he +thought, "is Dora Ashton, grand-daughter of Lord Byngfield, to be +called 'my young lady' by this creature? Why doesn't he call her my +young woman, at once? Ugh!" + +"I was saying when you interrupted me," said Leigh sternly (it was +plain to Hanbury this man was not going to overlook any point of +advantage in his position) "that when you were lying in a dead faint +in Welbeck Place, and I went to offer help, I took off my hat to your +young lady and said, 'Miss Grace, can I be of any use?' or words to +that effect." + +"I do not wonder." He forgot for a moment his annoyance and disgust. +"It is the most astonishing likeness I ever saw in all my life. It may +be possible to detect a difference between the two when they are side +by side, but I could not tell one from the other when apart." + +"Hah! You could not tell one from the other. I could not when I first +saw your young lady----" + +"May I ask you to say Miss Ashton, or if you would still further +oblige me, not to speak of the lady at all." + +"Oh-ho! That's the sort of thing it is, is it? Hah! Sly dog! Knowing +shaver! Hot 'un!" + +Hanbury's face blazed, and for a moment he seemed about to forget +himself, turn on the dwarf and rend him. Making a powerful effort he +controlled his rage. "You are disastrously wrong, and you give me +great pain." + +"Very good. I'll do you a favour and take your word for it. Hah!" + +This insolence was intolerable, and yet--and yet--and--yet it must be +borne with for a while. + +"I was saying, when you interrupted me a second time, that I could not +tell the difference between the two, when I saw Miss Ashton this +afternoon. _Now_ I could." + +"Indeed?" said Hanbury, with frigid politeness. At first this wretched +creature had been all silky fur and purring sounds; now he seemed all +claws and hisses. + +"Yes. Miss Ashton has more go more vitality, more vigour, more +_verve_, more enterprise, more enthusiasm, more divinity." + +Hanbury turned round and gazed at the hunchback with astonishment. +There was the hurry of eloquence in his words, and the flash of +enthusiasm in his eyes. This man was not an ordinary man, physically +or intellectually. Hanbury instantly altered his mental attitude +towards the dwarf. He no longer assumed the pose of a superior, the +method of a master. He recognised an equal. As Leigh had named the +qualities of Dora, one by one, Hanbury had felt that thrill which +always goes through a man of eloquent emotions when listening to +felicitous description. In the judicious and intelligent use of a term +there is freemasonry among intellectual men. It is by the phrase, and +not the thought, that an intellectual man recognises a fellow. Thought +is common, amorphous; with words the intellectual man models it into +forms of beauty. + +"I do not understand you," said Hanbury. "How do you connect vigour +and divinity? The great gods did nothing." + +"Ay, the great gods of the Greeks did nothing. But here in the North +our gods are hard-working. You, I know, are a Tory." + +"Well, it is somewhat doubtful what I am." + +"I am for the people." + +"So am I." + +"But we differ _in toto_ as to the means by which the people may be +helped." + +"Yes, _in toto_." + +"Now then, here is the position: You are a Tory and I am a Radical." + +"I do not call myself a Tory. Indeed, I came into this neighbourhood +to-day in the democratic interest, if I may put it in that way. But +shall we get anything out of a political discussion?" + +"I daresay not." + +"Then shall we say good-bye to one another here? I may rely on your +keeping this whole affair quiet?" + +"But you have not heard my request yet. I told you I could show you +something more wonderful than mystery gold. I told you I could show +you a more wonderful thing than even miracle gold. I have shown that +to you. Now I want my hush money." + +"What is it?" + +"An introduction to Miss Ashton." + +"An introduction to Miss Ashton!" + +"Yes. Ah, look! That is the first poster of an evening paper I have +seen to-day. How dull the evening papers are, to be sure." + +"When do you wish to meet Miss Ashton?" + +"Now. There never was any time past or future as good as the present." + +"Come with me." + + + + + CHAPTER XII. + + AN OMEN. + + +Hanbury turned west and led the way. He smiled grimly but said +nothing. Here was poetic justice for Dora with a vengeance. Here was +Nemesis in the person of this misshapen representative of the people. +Here was a bridegroom of Democracy from a Chelsea slum. She had been +anxious to see the people of the slums and now one of the people was +anxious to see her. Poetic justice was fully vindicated or would be +when he introduced this stunted demagogue to the daughter of a hundred +earls. + +For a while Leigh said nothing, so that Hanbury had ample time for +thought. Two years ago he had made his first appearance on a platform +as a Tory Democrat. His own birth and surroundings had been of neither +the very high nor the very low. His father, years dead, William +Hanbury, had been a merchant in Fenchurch Street, his mother, still +living, was daughter of the late Sir Ralph Preston, Baronet, and +brother of the present General Sir Edward Preston. John Hanbury did +not know much about his father's family. For two or three generations +the Hanburys had lived as private gentlemen of modest means, until +some whim took his father, and he went into business in Fenchurch +Street and made money. John was the only child, and had a couple of +thousand a year of his own, and the reversion of his mother's money. +He was thus well off for a young man, and quite independent. He had +money enough to adopt any career or pursue none. + +Up to a couple of years ago he had been roving in taste. Then he made +a few speeches from Tory Democratic platforms and people said he was a +born orator, and born orators, by perversion of thought, are supposed +to be born statesmen as well. Hence he had made up his mind to devote +himself to politics. But up to this time he had few strong political +views and no political faith. + +He seemed to be about growing into a philosophical politician, that +is, a politician useful at times to each party and abhorred by both. + +In feeling and tastes John Hanbury was an aristocrat. Although his +father had been in business he had never sunk to the level of a City +man, whose past and present was all of the City. William Hanbury had +been known before his migration into the regions of commerce, and +William Hanbury's wife was a baronet's daughter, and no baronet of +yesterday either, and John Hanbury had had two grandfathers who did +not work, and furthermore the money which William Hanbury put into +business had not, as far as could be traced, come out of business. + +It was about a year after John Hanbury made his first platform speech +that he became very friendly with the Ashtons. He had known Dora's +father for a little while as a member of a non-political West End +club. When Mr. Ashton saw that the young man had been haranguing from +a platform he took him in hand one day at luncheon at the club and +pointed out that meddling in politics meant suicide to happiness. +"Both my wife and my daughter are violent politicians; but I will +encourage no politics while I am at home. A man's house is to cover +and shield him from the storms of the elements, and the storms of +parties, and I will have no wrangle under the house tree. I don't want +to say anything against politicians, but I don't want to have anything +to do with them." + +"And what side do Mrs. Ashton and Miss Ashton hold with?" + +"The wrong side, of course, sir; they are women. Let us say no more of +them. I do not know what their side is called by the charlatans and +jugglers of to-day. I hear a jargon going on often when it is fancied +I am not attending to what is being said. With everything I hear I +adopt a good and completely impartial plan. I alter all the epithets +before the nouns to their direct opposite. This, sir, creates as great +a turmoil and confusion in my own head as though I were an active +politician; but, sir, I save my feelings and retain my self-respect by +giving no heed, taking no interest, saying no word. When a man adopts +politics he takes a shrew, an infernal shrew, sir, for a wife." + +The Honourable Mrs. Ashton (she was daughter of Lord Byngfield) saw +the summarised report of Hanbury's speech and immediately took an +intense interest in the young man. From the printed reports and the +verbal accounts she got of him she conceived a high expectation of the +future before him, if he were taken in hand at once, for, alas! was he +not on the wrong path? + +Accordingly she made up her mind to lie in wait for him and catch him +and convert him or rather divert him, for as yet he was not fully +committed to any party. She met him in the drawing-room of a friend. +She invited him to her small old house in Curzon Street, and when he +came set about the important work of conversion or diversion. + +Mrs. Ashton was a tall, thin woman of forty-five with very great +vitality and energy. How so frail and slender a body sufficed to +restrain so fiery and irrepressible a spirit was a puzzle. It seemed +as though the working of the spirit would shake the poor body to +pieces. It was impossible to be long near her without catching some of +her enthusiasm, and at first John Hanbury, being a young man and quite +unused to female propagandists, was almost carried away. But in time +he recovered his breath and found himself firm on his feet and at +leisure to look around him. + +Then he saw Miss Ashton, Dora Ashton, and she was another affair +altogether, and affected him differently. He fell in love with Dora. +She certainly was the loveliest and most sprightly girl whose hand his +hand had ever touched. Notwithstanding the fiery earnestness of her +mother, and the statement of her father that his wife and daughter +were politicians, she was no politician in a party sense. She was an +advocate of progress and the poor, subjects which all parties profess +to have at heart, but prominence to which justly or unjustly gives a +decidedly Liberal if not Radical tinge to the banner carried by their +advocates. + +In time Dora began to show no objection to the company of John Hanbury +and later the two became informally engaged. They were both opposed to +affording the world food for gossip and they agreed to say nothing of +their engagement until a very short time before their marriage. They +understood one another. That was enough for them. It was certain +neither family would object. No question of money was likely to arise. +In fact true love would run as smooth as the Serpentine. A little +savour of romance and difficulty was imported by a wholly unnecessary +secrecy. + +John Hanbury had not yet made any distinct profession of political +faith. Dora said the man who had not settled his political creed was +unfit for matrimony. This was said playfully, but the two agreed it +would be advisable for John to take his place in public before he took +his place as a householder. At present he lived with his widowed +mother, who had for some secret reason or other as great, nay, a +greater horror of politics than even Mr. Ashton himself. + +Dora had long importuned John to take her through some of the poorer +streets of Westminster, the Chelsea district, for instance. She did +not mean slumming in the disguise of a factory girl, but just a stroll +through a mean but reputable street. Under persistent pressure he +consented, and out of this walk to-day had sprung the meeting with +this strange being at his side and the meeting with the beautiful girl +so astonishingly like Dora. + +Dora had asked, insisted in her enthusiastic way, upon piercing this +unknown region of Westminster in order to see some of the London poor +in the less noisome of their haunts. At the shocking catastrophe which +had overtaken the negro, one of the people, he had fainted and fallen, +for the purposes of blighting ridicule, into the hands of this man of +the people by his side. This man of the people had mistaken Dora for +that girl in Grimsby Street and he had mistaken the girl in Grimsby +Street for Dora. This man of the people had introduced him to that +girl who was so like Dora, and now claimed to be introduced to Dora +who was so like that girl. This was indeed the ideal of poetic +justice! Dora had been the cause of bringing this man and him together +and putting him in this man's power. Dora was an aristocratic advocate +of the people. By introducing this man to Dora in Curzon Street he +should silence him, thus getting back to the position in which he was +before he set out that afternoon and this man should have introduced +him to Miss Grace, who was Dora's double, and he should have +introduced this man to Dora who was Miss Grace's double. + +So far the situation had all the completeness of a mathematic problem, +of a worked-out sum in proportion, of a Roland for an Oliver, or a +Chinese puzzle. + +But over and above there was, for John Hanbury, a little gain, a tiny +profit. Dora in her enthusiasm might have no objection to walk through +the haunts of the people; how would she like the people to walk into +her mother's drawing-room, particularly when the people were +represented by the poor, maimed, conceited creature at his side. + +John Hanbury suddenly looked down. Leigh was hobbling along +laboriously at his side. It all at once struck Hanbury with remorse +and pity that he had been walking at a pace in no way calculated for +the comfort of his companion. In his absorption he had given no heed +to the stunted legs and deformed chest at his side. He slackened his +steps and said, with the first touch of consideration or kindness he +had yet displayed: "I beg your pardon, Mr. Leigh. I fear I have been +going too fast." + +"Hah!" said the little man, "most young men go too fast." + +"I assure you," said he, keeping to the literal meaning of his words, +"I was quite unconscious of the rate I was walking at." + +"Just so. You forgot me. You were thinking of yourself." + +"I am afraid I was not thinking of you." + +"Don't bother yourself about me. I am used to be forgotten unless when +I can make myself felt. Now you would give a good deal to forget me +altogether. Hah!" + +"We have not very much farther to go. But I ought to have called a +cab." + +"And deprived me of the honour of walking beside you! That would have +been much more unkind. But I am glad we have not much farther to walk. +And you are glad we have not much farther to walk--together. Do you +know why you are taking this stroll with me?" + +"Oh, yes. It is part of our bargain." + +"Ah, the bargain is only an accident. The reason why you are taking +this stroll with me is because you do not want to cut a ridiculous +figure in the papers." + +"No doubt." + +"Because you do not want to appear contemptible for a few hours, a few +days, a few weeks. How would you like to walk from your childhood to +your grave the butt and derision of all who set eyes on you?" + +Hanbury did not answer the question. + +"This little walk I am taking with you now is only a short stage on +the long road I am always travelling between lines of people that +point and laugh and jeer and grin and howl at me. I am basking in the +splendours of your youth and your fame." + +Hanbury did not see his way to say anything to this either. + +"Have you read much fiction?" asked Leigh after a pause. + +"Well, yes," with a laugh. "Government statistics and Blue Books +generally." He wanted to alter the current of conversation if +possible. + +"I don't mean books of fiction dealing with figures of that kind, but +works of fiction dealing with figures of another kind. With human +figures, for instance? For instance, have you read Hugo's 'Notre +Dame'?" + +"Yes," with a frown. + +"And Dickens's 'Old Curiosity Shop'?" + +"Yes," with a shudder. + +"And which do you consider the most hideous and loathsome, Quasimodo, +Quilp, or Leigh?" + +"Mr. Leigh, you surely are not adopting this means of punishing me for +my heedlessness in hurrying just now? If so you are adopting an +extremely painful way of reminding me of my rudeness." + +"Painful means! Painful means! As I live under Heaven, this man is +thinking of himself now! Thinking of himself still! He is thinking of +the pain it gives him to remember I am a hump-backed cripple, and not +of the pain it is to me to be the hump-backed cripple!--to be the +owner of the accursed carrion carcase he would spurn into a sewer if +he met one open _and it were dark!_" + +Leigh paused and flamed and frothed. + +"If you allow yourself to give way to such absurd vagaries as these, +how do you expect me to fulfil the final part of our compact?" + +"Quite right, Mr. Hanbury. I will moderate my raptures, sir. This is +not, as you might say, either the time or place for heroics. The idiot +boy is a more engaging part than the iconoclast maniac. The truth is, +I have eaten nothing to-day yet, and I am a bit lightheaded. You don't +use eau-de-cologne? Few men do. I do. It is very refreshing. Now let +us go on. I am quite calm." + +They had stopped a minute, and Leigh spilled some perfumed spirit from +his small silver flask, and inhaled the spirit noisily. + +"Hah! I feel all right again. Speaking of the idiot boy makes me think +of asking you if, when you were at school, you had the taste for +speaking?" + +"Mr. Leigh," said Hanbury severely, "you allow yourself great freedom +with liberties." + +"Ha-ha-ha! Capital. You are right. I should not have said that. You +will try to forgive me. I shall remember your words, though. They +would go well in a play. But we must dismiss folly. The weather is too +hot for repartee. At least, I find it too hot. Talking of heat reminds +me of a furnace, and that brings me back to something I said to you +about my having made a discovery or invention in chemistry, which will +completely outshine mystery gold. The Italians have a saying that as a +man grows old he gives up love, and devotes himself to wine. Love has +never been much in my way, and now that I have passed the bridge, the +_pons asinorum_ over which all men who are such asses as to live long +enough go when they turn thirty-five, I have no intention of taking to +wine, for it does not agree with me. But I am seriously thinking of +taking to gold. Gold, sir, is a thing that becomes all times of life, +and glorifies age. There is a vast fortune in my discovery. Hah!" + +"And what may be the nature of your discovery?" + +"Do you know anything of chemistry?" + +"Nothing." + +"Or of metallurgy even?" + +"No." + +"What a pity! I cannot therefore hope to rouse in you the divine +enthusiasm of a scientist. I had just come back from Stratford-at-Bow +when I had the pleasure and honour of meeting you to-day. I had been +down there looking after the first drawing of the retorts, and my +expectations had never dared to contemplate such a result as I have +reached." + +"May I know what your discovery is?" + +"The philosopher's stone, sir. Ha-ha ha! You will laugh at me. So will +all sensible men laugh at me when I say I have discovered the +philosopher's stone. The universal agent. The great solvent. The +mighty elixir. But remember, sir, in the history of the world's +progress it is always the sensible men who have been the fools." + +"I am afraid you will not have many believers in the beginning." + +"I know I shall not. But I do not want many believers. I am not like +the advertising stockbrokers who are willing to make any man's fortune +but their own. I shall keep my secret dark, and make my fortune in +quiet, with no more noise about how I am doing it than an army +contractor." + +"And what do you purpose making gold out of--lead?" + +"No, sir, phosphorus. Out of phosphorus." + +"It is the right colour, to begin with." + +"And it is in the right place." + +"Where?" + +"Here," tapping his brown, wrinkled forehead, "in my brain. I am going +to turn the phosphorus of my brain into gold. All the things that have +been made by man have been made out of the phosphorus of the brain, +why not gold also?" + +"Truly, why not gold also?" + +"You were right when you said I should have few believers at first. In +the beginning there will be little or no profit. Bah, let me not talk +like a fool. Of course, you and I know that gold cannot be made until +we discover the universal atom and learn how to handle it. My +discovery is a combination of substances which will defy all the known +tests for gold. The dry or the wet method will be powerless confronted +with it. The cupel and acid will proclaim it gold. It will scorn the +advances of oxygen and remain fixed a thousand years in the snowy +heart of the furnace. It will be as flexible as ribbed grass, as +ductile as the web of a spider, as malleable as the air between the +gold-beater's skins. + +"You say it will be almost as dear as gold itself at the beginning." + +"Yes, almost as dear as gold." + +"How much will it cost?" + +"I have not yet counted up all the cost. There are certain ingredients +the cost of which it is difficult to ascertain," he said in an +abstracted voice. + +"This is Mrs. Ashton's house." + +Leigh aroused out of the abstraction and looked up. Miss Ashton was at +the open window of the drawing-room. + +"I am so troubled about the calculation that I am not sure whether it +will pay at all to make it. Yesterday morning I had given up all +thought of my alchemy. I resolved to direct my studies towards the +elixir of life. Yesterday I made up my mind the elixir was beyond me, +and I resolved to go on making the gold. To day I am in doubt again. +Like all alchemists, I am superstitious. I shall look for an omen to +guide me." + +"Miss Ashton is at the window. She recognises you. She is saluting +you." + +The dwarf drew a pace back from the house and swept the ground with +his hat. + +"Take that for a good omen," said Hanbury, as he went up to the door. + +"Did I not tell you I would show you something more wonderful than +mystery gold?" + +"Yes." + +"Did I keep my word?" + +"The likeness is most astonishing. Come in." + +"If the likeness is not complete it may go hard with the miracle +gold." + + + + + CHAPTER XIII. + + IN CURZON STREET. + + +The Honourable Mrs. Ashton's drawing-room would, under ordinary +circumstances, be open to any friend or acquaintance brought there by +Hanbury. He was a well-received frequenter of the house, and though +the relations between him and Miss Ashton had not been announced, they +were understood in the household, and any of the family who were +within were always at home to him. + +Of course, if Mrs. Ashton's had been an ordinary West-end +drawing-room, Hanbury would not bring there a man he had picked up +accidentally in the street. But Mrs. Ashton's was not by any means an +ordinary West-end drawing-room. Neither good social position nor good +coats were essentials in that chamber of liberty. So long as one was +distinguished in arts, or science, or politics, but particularly in +politics, he was welcome, and all the more if he were a violent +Radical. Being merely cracked, did not exclude anyone, so long as the +cracked man was clever. Mere cleverness or talent, however, would not +qualify for entrance. It was necessary to be fairly respectable in +manner and behaviour, and not to be infamous at all. Mrs. Ashton was +an enthusiast, but she was no fool. She did not insist upon Dukes +being vulgar, or Radicals being fops, but she expected Dukes to be +gentlemen, and Radicals before coming to her house to lay aside all +arrogance because of their humble birth or position. Mrs. Ashton had +the blood of a lady, and the manners of a lady, and the habits of a +lady, by reason of her birth and bringing-up. To these qualities she +had the good sense to add the heart of a Christian and the good taste +to reject the Christian cant. She did not employ either the curses or +the slangs of any of the creeds, but contented herself with trying to +live up to the principle of the great scheme of charity to be found +running through all Christ's teachings. She was an Episcopalian, +because her people before her had been Episcopalian, but she had +nowhere in the New Dispensation found any law enjoining her to hate +Mahommedans or Buddhists, or even Christians of another sect. Indeed, +although at heart a pious woman, she preferred not to speak of +religious matters. But she set her face against impieties. "To put it +on no higher ground," she would say, "they are bad taste, bad form. A +blasphemy is not worth uttering unless there is some human being to +hear it, and the only reason it is of any value then, is because it +hurts or shocks the hearer, and to do anything of the kind ought not +to be allowed." So that, having found out Leigh was more or less a +Radical, and had streaks of cleverness in him, Hanbury was not very +shy of introducing him at Curzon Street. + +There was another reason why the young man experienced no doubt of +Leigh's welcome. This was Thursday, late in the afternoon, and Mrs. +Ashton was at home every Thursday from four to seven. In the little +crowd of people who came to her informal receptions, were many of +strange and interesting views and theories and faces and figures. +Leigh's would, no doubt, be the most remarkable figure present that +day, but the callers would be too varied and many-coloured and +cosmopolitan to take a painful interest in the dwarf. In the crowd and +comparative hurry of a Thursday afternoon, Leigh would have fewer +chances than at ordinary times of attracting attention by solecisms of +which he might be guilty. + +Before knocking at the door, Hanbury turned to Leigh and said: "By the +way, there are likely to be a good number of people here at this hour +on Thursday." + +"I know. An At home." + +"Precisely. You will not, of course, say a word about what occurred +earlier. I mean in that blind street." + +"Welbeck Place, you mean; no, no. Why to speak, to breathe of it among +a lot of people who are only your very intimate and most dear friends +would be worse than publishing it in every evening newspaper. I +suppose no one here will mention anything about it." + +"No," answered Hanbury. "No one here," was a great improvement in +synonyms for Dora upon "your young lady." This halt and miserable +creature seemed capable of education. He had not only natural +smartness, but docile receptivity also when he chose to exercise it. +"Miss Ashton will say nothing about it," he added aloud. "And now, Mr. +Leigh, most of the people you will meet here to-day are smart people, +and I should like to know if I may say you are the last and the first +of the alchemists, last in point of time and first in point of power? +or am I to refer to you as a Radical--you will find several Radicals +here?" + +"Hah! Neither. Do not refer to me as either an alchemist or a Radical. +You said there would be politicians?" + +"Yes. Undoubtedly politicians'" + +"Very good. Introduce me as a Time Server. If politicians are present +they will be curious to see a man of my persuasion. Sir, the dodo is +as common as the English goose compared with a man of my persuasion +among politicians." + +"Is not the joke rather a stupid one? Rather childish? Eh? You can't +expect to find that intelligent people will either laugh or wince at +such a poor pleasantry? They will only yawn." + +"Sir, you do _my_ intelligence an injustice when you fancy I try jokes +upon men of whose intelligence I am not assured. If there is a joke in +what I said, I beg _your_ pardon. I had no intention of making one." + +"Oh, all right," said Hanbury with a reckless laugh as the door opened +and the two entered the house. + +While they were going up stairs, Hanbury asked in a tone of amused +perplexity: + +"How on earth am I to say 'Mr. Leigh, the distinguished Time Server?'" + +"You have said it very well now, for a first attempt. You will say it +still better after this rehearsal: practice makes perfect." + +When they got into the drawing-room, Hanbury led his companion towards +Mrs. Ashton, who was standing talking to a distinguished microscopist, +Dr. Stein. He had of late been pursuing the unhappy microbe, and had +at last pushed the beast into a corner, and when it turned horrent, at +bay upon him and he had thrust it through the body with an antiseptic +poisoned in an epigram, and so slain the beast summarily and for ever. +The hostess had been listening to the doctor's account of the expiring +groans of the terrified microbe, and had just said with an amused +smile: + +"And now, Dr. Stein, that the microbe has been disposed of, to what do +you intend directing your attention?" + +"I am not yet sure. I have not quite decided." The speaker's back was +towards the door which Mrs. Ashton faced. "I have been so long devoted +to the infinitely little I think I must now attack big game. Having +made an end of the microbe, I am going to look through the backward +telescope of time and try to start the mastodon again. I am sick of +the infinitely little----" + +"Ah, Mr. Hanbury," said the hostess, seeing the young man and his +small companion, and feeling that the words of the doctor must be +overheard by the dwarf. + +"My friend, Mr. Leigh," said Hanbury, with a nervous laugh, "who +wishes to be known as a distinguished Time Server, is most anxious to +be introduced to you, Mrs. Ashton. Mrs. Ashton--Mr. Leigh." The latter +bowed profoundly. + +"I am delighted to meet a gentleman who has the courage to describe +himself as a time-server." She was in doubt as to what he intended to +convey, and repeated his description of himself to show she was not +afraid of bluntness, even if she did not court it in so aggressive a +form. + +Dr. Stein moved away and was lost to sight. + +"Pardon me," said Leigh, bowing first to her and then to Hanbury, +"there is no great courage on my part. It is infamous to be a +time-server. I am a servant of time." + +Hanbury flushed angrily and bit his lip, and secretly cursed his +weakness in bringing this man to this place. Before he could control +himself sufficiently for speech Leigh went on: + +"I am not as great a master of phrases as Mr. Hanbury," (the young +man's anger increased), "and in asking him to say time-server I made a +slip of the tongue." + +"Liar!" thought the other man furiously. + +"I should have described myself as a servant of time; I am a +clock-maker." + +"The miserable quibbler!" thought Hanbury, somewhat relieved. "I dare +say he considers this a telling kind of pun. I am very sorry I did not +face the newspapers, rather than bring him here. I must have been mad +to think of introducing him." + +"And what kind of clock do you admire most, Mr. Leigh?" asked Mrs. +Ashton, smiling now. She set down the little man with the short +deformed body as an eccentric being, who had a taste for verbal +tricks, by some supposed to be pleasantries. + +"I prefer, madam, the clocks that go." + +"Fast or slow?" + +"Fast. It is better to beat the sun than to be beaten by the sun." + +"But are not the clocks that go correctly the best of all?" + +"When a clock marks twenty-five hours to the day we live twenty-five +hours to the day: when it marks twenty-three we live twenty-three. +There are thus two hours a day in favour of going fast." + +"But," said Hanbury, who suddenly recovered his good humour or +semblance of it; for Leigh was not doing or saying anything +outrageous, and Dora had risen from her seat by the window and was +coming towards them. "It does not make any difference whether you go +fast or slow, each spindle will wear out in its allotted number of +revolutions, no matter what the speed." + +"No," said Leigh, his eyes flashing as he caught sight of Miss Ashton +"The machinery is not so liable to rust or the oil to clog when going +fast as when going slow. Fluidity of the oil ensures the minimum of +friction. Besides, it is better to wear out than to rust out." + +"That depends," laughed Hanbury, "on what you are or what you do. +Would you like, for instance, to wear out our hangman?" + +"That, in its turn, would depend to an enormous extent on the material +you set him to work upon?" said Leigh with a saturnine smile. + +"So it would, indeed, Mr. Leigh, but let us hope we have not in all +this country enough worthy material to try the constitution of the +most feeble man. Mr. Leigh, Miss Ashton, my daughter." + +Dora smiled and bent graciously to him. He bowed, but not nearly so +low as when Hanbury introduced him to her mother. There was no +exaggeration in his bow this time. He raised his head more quickly, +more firmly, and then threw it up and held it back, looking around him +with hard, haughty eyes. To Hanbury's astonishment Leigh appeared +quite at his ease. He was neither confused nor insolent. + +As Hanbury saw Dora approach and meet Leigh, he was more struck than +before with the extraordinary likeness between her and Edith Grace. +Dora had just perceptibly more colour in her pale olive face, and just +perceptibly more vigour in her movements, and just perceptibly more +fire in her eyes; but the difference was extremely slight, and would +certainly be missed by an ordinary observer. + +Was she still angry with him? She showed him no sign of resentment or +forgiveness. She gave her eyes and attention to this man whom he had +been forced to bring with him. This lying, malignant satyr, who hid +the spirit of the Inquisition in the body of a deformed gorilla! Bah! +how could Dora Ashton, whose blood went back to the blood of those who +escaped the Saxon spears and shafts and blades at Hastings, look with +interest and favour upon this misshapen manikin! + +"Yes," went on Leigh, turning to Mrs. Ashton, "I am a servant of time. +I am now engaged in making a clock which will, I think, be the most +remarkable in the world." + +"Have you been to Strasburg?" asked Hanbury, because he believed Leigh +had not been there. + +"Bah! Strasburg, no! Why should I go to Strasburg? To see other clocks +is only to see how effects have been produced. With a conjuror the +great difficulty is not to discover how to perform any trick, but to +discover a trick that will be worth performing. If you tell any +mediocre mechanist of an effect produced in mechanism, he can tell how +it is done or how it could be done." + +"What! Can you construct a clock like Burdeau's, I mean one that would +produce the same effects?" asked Hanbury with a scarcely perceptible +sneer. + +"Produce the same effect! Easily. Burdeau's clock represented Louis +XIV. surrounded by upper lackeys, other monarchs who did him homage. +Hah! There is nothing easier. It is more fit for a puppet show to +amuse the groundlings of a country fair than for a monumental work of +genius like a great clock." + +"Did not the machinery of Burdeau's clock go wrong upon the occasion +of its public exhibition?" asked Hanbury with a polite, malicious +smile. + +"It did, and the figure of the Grand Monarque, who, like me, was not +over tall, instead of receiving homage from the figure of William +III., fell down before the effigy of William and grovelled. Bah! there +was no difficulty or merit in producing that effect." + +"I was thinking of some effect wrought by that public exhibition and +eccentricity on the part of the clock." + +"You mean getting Burdeau thrown into the Bastille by the Grand +Monarque?" + +"Yes. Do you think an effect of that kind could be produced in our day +by a clock?" + +"Upon a clock maker?" + +"Suppose so." + +"Hah! You would, no doubt, like _me_ to try it?" + +"Well, you boasted you could produce any effect." + +"Hah! If they did take me and throw me into the Bastille to-day, now, +at this moment, I should not mind it, nor would my clock mind it +either. It is not in the power of any king or potentate of earth to +divorce me from my clock!" He swelled out his chest and flung his +shoulders and head back. + +"What! Even if he put you in the Bastille? Ha-ha-ha!" laughed Hanbury +derisively. "That is too much indeed. Why, it is not clock making, but +necromancy." + +The little man stepped back a pace, looked at Hanbury contemptuously +from head to foot, and said: + +"It is true, although you may not be able to understand it." Then +turned to Mrs. Ashton. "A clock cannot be made to go for ever quite +independent of man. But I think I have invented a new means of dealing +with clocks; indeed, I am quite sure my plan is absolutely new. If a +constitutional tyrant were to lock me up in any bastile this instant, +my clock, I mean what of it is now completed and in working order, +would be wound up to-night between twelve and one o'clock, just as if +I were there. I admit no stranger into my workshop." + +"That is very extraordinary," said Miss Ashton, speaking for the first +time. + +Leigh made a gesture deprecating extraordinariness. + +"I am not going in for any nonsense about perpetual motion. There will +be thousands of figures in my clock, thousands of automaton Figures of +Time to move in one endless procession. These figures will differ from +all others to be found in horloges. They will be designed wholly to +please and educate the eye by their artistic virtues and graces. +The mechanical movements will be wholly subject to naturalness and +beauty. I have been in great difficulty to find a worthy model for my +Pallas-Athena. Until to-day I was in despair." + +There appeared nothing unpleasantly marked or emphatic in Leigh's +manner; but Hanbury knew he meant the model for the donor of the olive +had been found in Dora. Good Heavens! this creature had dared to +select as model for some imperfectly draped figure in this raree-show +of charlatan mechanism the girl to whom _he_, John Hanbury, was +engaged! + +Mrs. Ashton understood the implication in the speech by an almost +imperceptible reverence of the poor blighted deformed body to her +beautiful, shapely, well-born daughter. A look of amusement and +tenderness came into her thin, mobile, sympathetic face. "And you have +been so fortunate as to find a model for your goddess?" + +"Yes, and no. I did not find so much a model for my goddess as a +goddess who had strayed down from the heights of Greek myth." + +"This must be a lucky day with you, Mr. Leigh," Mrs. Ashton said +pleasantly, and speaking as though his words referred to no one in +whom she took interest. She was curious to see how he would extricate +himself from a direct question. That would test his adroitness. "And +when did you meet your divinity?" + +"In the afternoon. I saw her in the afternoon." He looked angrily at +Hanbury. The latter thought, "He is under obligation not to say +anything of the Welbeck Place event; he, the traitorous wretch, will +content himself with referring to it, so that Dora and I may know what +he means. The false sneak!" He felt his face burn and blaze. + +Other people came in, and Hanbury moved off a little and looked at +Leigh and swayed his head slightly, beckoning him away. + +Dora turned pale. She knew nothing of what had passed between the two +men since she saw them last, and felt faint when she thought of John +Hanbury's rage if the little man referred to their earlier meeting. +Yet she could not believe he was going to speak of that. Why had John +brought him here? She had no need to guess who the goddess was. She +herself was the deity meant by him. That was plain enough. + +"Mr. Hanbury was with me at the time," said Leigh, disregarding the +signal made by the other. + +Hanbury fixed his eyes on the mechanist with threatening +deliberateness. Dora grew cold and paler and faint. She felt there was +certain to be a scene, a most unpleasant scene. Mrs. Ashton saw +nothing, understood nothing. + +"Had we not better move aside, Mr. Leigh? I am afraid we are blocking +the way." He thought: "This beast has saved up his poison till now. He +will strike here." + +"No, no," said Mrs. Ashton energetically. "I shall hear of nothing +better all day than a goddess--it is not to be expected I can hear of +anything better. Where did you meet this Pallas-Athena?" + +"In Grimsby Street," answered Leigh with a bow to Miss Ashton and a +look of malignant triumph at Hanbury. + +The latter started and looked round him with as much surprise as if he +suddenly found himself unexpectedly in a strange place. This man was +too subtle and lithe for him. Who could have expected this wriggle? + +Dora glanced up with an expression of relief. The colour came back +quickly to her face, and the aspect of alarmed expectancy vanished. + +Mrs. Ashton turned from one to another with quick, enquiring, puzzled +eyes. She saw now there was something unusual beneath the surface in +all this. "What is the mystery? You will tell me, Mr. Leigh?" + +"No mystery at all," answered Leigh, in a quick, light, off-hand way. +"I happened to come across Mr. Hanbury accidentally and we met the +lady of whom I speak." + +"Oh, then she is a lady. She is not a professional model." + +"Hah! No. She is not a professional model. She is a lady, of a +Derbyshire family." + +"I wonder do I know her. May I hear her name?" + +"Mr. Hanbury will, I have no doubt tell you," said Leigh, moving off +with a smile. "He was introduced to her at the meeting, I was not. He +was as much struck by the likeness as I." + +"The likeness! The likeness to Pallas-Athena?" said Mrs. Ashton in +perplexity. + +"Yes," said the dwarf with another smile, as he made room for two men +who were coming up the room to Mrs. Ashton. + + + + + END OF VOLUME I. + + + + + + + PRINTED BY + KELLY AND CO., GATE STREET, LINCOLN'S INN FIELDS, + AND KINGSTON-ON-THAMES. + + + + + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg's Miracle Gold (Vol. 1 of 3), by Richard Dowling + +*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 42498 *** |