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diff --git a/old/55115-h/55115-h.htm b/old/55115-h/55115-h.htm deleted file mode 100644 index a7840df..0000000 --- a/old/55115-h/55115-h.htm +++ /dev/null @@ -1,11284 +0,0 @@ -<?xml version="1.0" encoding="utf-8"?> - -<!DOCTYPE html - PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" - "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd" > - -<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" lang="en"> - <head> - <meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html;charset=UTF-8" /> - <title>The City Of Pleasure, by Arnold Bennett</title> - <meta content="pg2html (binary v0.17)" /> - <link rel="coverpage" href="images/cover.jpg" /> - <style type="text/css" xml:space="preserve"> - - body { margin:5%; background:#faebd0; text-align:justify} - P { text-indent: 1em; margin-top: .75em; margin-bottom: .75em; } - H1,H2,H3,H4,H5,H6 { text-align: center; margin-left: 15%; margin-right: 15%; } - hr { width: 50%; text-align: center;} - .foot { margin-left: 5%; margin-right: 5%; text-align: justify; font-size: 80%; font-style: italic;} - blockquote {font-size: 97%; font-style: italic; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%;} - .mynote {background-color: #DDE; color: #000; padding: .5em; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 95%;} - .toc { margin-left: 10%; margin-bottom: .75em;} - .toc2 { margin-left: 20%;} - .xx-small {font-size: 60%;} - .x-small {font-size: 75%;} - .small {font-size: 85%;} - .large {font-size: 115%;} - .x-large {font-size: 130%;} - .indent5 { margin-left: 5%;} - .indent10 { margin-left: 10%;} - .indent15 { margin-left: 15%;} - .indent20 { margin-left: 20%;} - .indent30 { margin-left: 30%;} - .indent40 { margin-left: 40%;} - div.fig { display:block; margin:0 auto; text-align:center; } - div.middle { margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; text-align: justify; } - .figleft {float: left; margin-left: 0%; margin-right: 1%;} - .figright {float: right; margin-right: 0%; margin-left: 1%;} - .pagenum {position: absolute; right: 1%; font-size: 0.6em; - font-variant: normal; font-style: normal; - text-align: right; background-color: #FFFACD; - border: 1px solid; padding: 0.3em;text-indent: 0em;} - .side { float: left; font-size: 75%; width: 15%; padding-left: 0.8em; - border-left: dashed thin; text-align: left; - text-indent: 0; font-weight: bold; font-style: italic; - font-weight: bold; color: black; background: #eeeeee; border: solid 1px;} - .head { float: left; font-size: 90%; width: 98%; padding-left: 0.8em; - border-left: dashed thin; text-align: center; - text-indent: 0; font-weight: bold; font-style: italic; - font-weight: bold; color: black; background: #eeeeee; border: solid 1px;} - p.pfirst, p.noindent {text-indent: 0} - span.dropcap { float: left; margin: 0 0.1em 0 0; line-height: 0.8 } - pre { font-style: italic; font-size: 90%; margin-left: 10%;} - -</style> - </head> - <body> - - -<pre> - -The Project Gutenberg EBook of The City Of Pleasure, by Arnold Bennett - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and most -other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions -whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of -the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at -www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you'll have -to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this ebook. - - - -Title: The City Of Pleasure - A Fantasia on Modern Themes - -Author: Arnold Bennett - -Release Date: July 15, 2017 [EBook #55115] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: UTF-8 - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE CITY OF PLEASURE *** - - - - -Produced by David Widger from page images generously -provided by the Internet Archive - - - - - - -</pre> - - <div style="height: 8em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h1> - THE CITY OF PLEASURE - </h1> - <h3> - A Fantasia on Modern Themes - </h3> - <h2> - By Arnold Bennett - </h2> - <h4> - Author Of “The Old Wives’ Tale,” “Clayhanger,” “The Old Adam,” Etc. - </h4> - <h4> - New York: George H. Doran Company - </h4> - <h3> - 1907 - </h3> - <p> - <br /><br /><a name="linkimage-0001" id="linkimage-0001"> </a> - </p> - <div class="fig" style="width:50%;"> - <img src="images/0001.jpg" alt="0001 " width="100%" /><br /> - </div> - <h5> - <a href="images/0001.jpg"><img src="images/enlarge.jpg" alt="" /> </a> - </h5> - <p> - <br /><br /><a name="linkimage-0002" id="linkimage-0002"> </a> - </p> - <div class="fig" style="width:50%;"> - <img src="images/0007.jpg" alt="0007 " width="100%" /><br /> - </div> - <h5> - <a href="images/0007.jpg"><img src="images/enlarge.jpg" alt="" /> </a> - </h5> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <p> - <b>CONTENTS</b> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2H_4_0001"> <b>THE CITY OF PLEASURE</b> </a> - </p> - <p> - <br /> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2H_PART"> <b>PART I—CARPENTARIA</b> </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2HCH0001"> CHAPTER I—Over the City </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2HCH0002"> CHAPTER II—Interviewed </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2HCH0003"> CHAPTER III—Inspiration </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2HCH0004"> CHAPTER IV—Mrs. Ilam </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2HCH0005"> CHAPTER V—The Band </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2HCH0006"> CHAPTER VI—The Black Burden </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2HCH0007"> CHAPTER VII—The Cut </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2HCH0008"> CHAPTER VIII—Disappearance of Juliette </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2HCH0009"> CHAPTER IX—The Dead Dog </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2HCH0010"> CHAPTER X—A Pinch of Snuff </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2HCH0011"> CHAPTER XI—The Return to Life </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2HCH0012"> CHAPTER XII—On the Wheel </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2HCH0013"> CHAPTER XIII—Performances of Mr. Jetsam - </a> - </p> - <p> - <br /> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2H_PART2"> <b>PART II—THE TWINS</b> </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2HCH0014"> CHAPTER XIV—Entry of the Twins </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2HCH0015"> CHAPTER XV—Proposal of Josephus </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2HCH0016"> CHAPTER XVI—The Box </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2HCH0017"> CHAPTER XVII—The Man on the Balcony </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2HCH0018"> CHAPTER XVIII—An Arrangement for a Marriage - </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2HCH0019"> CHAPTER XIX—The Heart of the City </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2HCH0020"> CHAPTER XX—What Jetsam Wanted </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2HCH0021"> CHAPTER XXI—Interrupting a Concert </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2HCH0022"> CHAPTER XXII—Carpentaria as Detective </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2HCH0023"> CHAPTER XXIII—The Talk in the Garden </a> - </p> - <p> - <br /> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2H_PART3"> <b>PART III—JETSAM</b> </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2HCH0024"> CHAPTER XXIV—The Boat </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2HCH0025"> CHAPTER XXV—-A Wholesale Departure </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2HCH0026"> CHAPTER XXVI—The Empty Bedroom </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2HCH0027"> CHAPTER XXVII—The Photograph </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2HCH0028"> CHAPTER XXVIII—The Dead March </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2HCH0029"> CHAPTER XXIX—Mr. Jetsam’s Recital </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2HCH0030"> CHAPTER XXX—The Words of Mrs. Ilam </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2HCH0031"> CHAPTER XXXI—Unison </a> - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2H_4_0001" id="link2H_4_0001"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h1> - THE CITY OF PLEASURE - </h1> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2H_PART" id="link2H_PART"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - PART I—CARPENTARIA - </h2> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0001" id="link2HCH0001"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER I—Over the City - </h2> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">C</span>arpentaria! - </p> - <p> - One of the three richly-uniformed officials who were in charge of the - captive balloon, destined to be a leading attraction of the City of - Pleasure, murmured this name warningly to his companions, as if to advise - them that the moment had arrived for them to mind their p’s and q’s. And - each man looked cautiously through the tail of his eye at a striking - figure which was approaching through crowds of people to the enclosure. - The figure was tall and had red hair and a masterful face, and it was - clothed in a blue suit that set off the red hair to perfection. Over the - wicket of the enclosure a small enamelled sign had been hung: - </p> - <h3> - “CITY OF PLEASURE. - </h3> - <p> - “<i>President</i>: Josephus Ilam. - </p> - <p> - “<i>Managing and Musical Director</i>: Charles Carpentaria. - </p> - <p> - “<i>Balloon Ascents every half-hour after three o’clock. Height of a - thousand feet guaranteed. Seats, half-a-crown, including field-glass</i>.” - </p> - <p> - The sign was slightly askew, and the approaching figure tapped it into - position, and then entered the enclosure. - </p> - <p> - “Good afternoon,” it said. “Everything ready?” - </p> - <p> - “’d afternoon, Mr. Carpentaria,” said the head balloonist - respectfully. “Yes, sir.” - </p> - <p> - The three men with considerable ostentation busied themselves among ropes, - while a young man in gold-rimmed spectacles gazed with sudden - self-consciousness into the far distance, just as if he had that very - instant discovered something there that demanded the whole of his - attention. - </p> - <p> - “Going up, sir?” inquired the head balloonist. - </p> - <p> - “Yes,” replied Carpentaria. “Mr. Ilam and I are going up together. We have - time, haven’t we? It’s only half-past two.” - </p> - <p> - “Yes, sir.” - </p> - <p> - Carpentaria examined the vast balloon, which was trembling and swaying and - lugging with that aspiration towards heaven and the infinite so - characteristic of well-filled balloons. He ignored the young man in - spectacles. - </p> - <p> - “Where’s the parachutist?” Carpentaria demanded. - </p> - <p> - A parachutist was to give éclat to the first public ascent of the silken - monster by dropping from it into the Thames or somewhere else. His - apparatus hung beneath the great circular car. - </p> - <p> - “He’ll be here before three, sir,” said the head balloonist. - </p> - <p> - “He’s been here once, sir,” added the second balloonist, anxious to prove - to himself that he also had the right to converse with the mighty - Carpentaria. - </p> - <p> - A few seconds later the august President arrived. Mr. Josephus Ilam was - tall, like his partner, but much stouter. He had, indeed, almost the - inflated appearance which one observes constantly in the drivers of - brewers’ drays; even his fingers bulged. His age was fifty, ten years more - than that of Carpentaria, and it was probably ten years since he had seen - his own feet. Finally, he was clean-shaven, with areas of blue on his chin - and cheeks like the sea on a map, and his hair—what remained of it—seemed - to be hesitating between black and grey. - </p> - <p> - “What’s the matter?” he asked of Carpentaria. - </p> - <p> - “Oh, I thought I would just like to make the first ascent with you alone,” - Carpentaria answered, and added, smiling, “I have something to show you up - there.” - </p> - <p> - His hand indicated the firmament, and his peculiar smile indicated that he - took Ilam’s consent for granted. - </p> - <p> - Ilam sighed obesely, and agreed. He did not care to argue before members - of the staff. Nevertheless, the futility of ascending to the skies on - this, the opening day, when the colossal organism of the show cried aloud - for continual supervision on earth, was sufficiently clear to his mind. He - climbed gingerly over the edge of the wickerwork car, which had a - circumference of thirty feet, with a protected aperture in the middle, and - Carpentaria followed him. - </p> - <p> - “Let go,” said Carpentaria, gleefully. “Let go!” he repeated with - impatience, when the balloon was arrested at a height of about ten feet. - </p> - <p> - “Right sir,” responded briskly the head balloonist. There appeared to have - been some altercation between the balloonists. - </p> - <p> - The day was the first of May, but the London spring had chosen to be - capricious and unseasonable. Instead of the snow and frost and east wind - which almost invariably accompany what is termed, with ferocious irony, - the merry month, there was strong, brilliant sunshine and a perfect calm. - The sun glinted and glittered on the upper surfaces of the balloon, but of - course the voyagers could not perceive that. They, in fact, perceived - nothing except that the entire world was gradually falling away from them. - The balloon had ceased to shiver; it stood as firm as consols, while the - City of Pleasure sank and sank, and the upturned faces of more than fifty - thousand spectators grew tinier and tinier. - </p> - <p> - It would be interesting and certainly instructive to unfold some of the - many mysteries and minor dramas which had diversified the history of the - making of the City of Pleasure, from the time when Carpentaria, having - conceived the idea of the thing, found the necessary millionaire in the - person of Josephus Ilam, to the hurried and tumultuous eve of the opening - day; but these are unconnected with the present recital. It needs only to - remind the reader of the City’s geography. Towards the lower left-hand - corner of any map of London not later than 1905, may be observed a large, - nearly empty space in the form of an inverted letter “U.” This space is - bounded everywhere, except across the bottom, by the Thames. It is indeed - a peninsula made by an extraordinary curve of the Thames, and Barnes - Common connects if with the mainland of the parish of Putney. Its - dimensions are little short of a mile either way, and yet, although - Hammersmith Bridge joins it to Hammersmith at the top, it was almost - uninhabited, save for the houses which lined Bridge Road and a scattering - of houses in Lonsdale Road and the short streets between Lonsdale Road and - the reservoir near the bridge. The contrast was violent; on the north side - of the Thames the crowded populousness of Hammersmith, and on the south - side—well, possibly four people to the acre. - </p> - <p> - Ilam and Carpentaria, with Ilam’s money, bought or leased the whole of the - middle part of the peninsula—over three hundred acres—with a - glorious half-mile frontage to the Thames on the east side. They would - have acquired all the earth as far as Barnes Common but for the fact that - the monomaniacs of the Ranelagh Club Golf Course could not be induced to - part with their links, even when offered a fantastic number of thousand - pounds per hole. They obtained the closing of the Bridge Road, which cut - the peninsula downwards into two halves, and the omnibus traffic between - Hammersmith and Barnes was diverted to Lonsdale Road—not without - terrific diplomacy, and pitched battles in the columns of newspapers and - in Local Government offices. They pulled down every house in Bridge Road, - thus breaking up some seventy presumably happy English homes, and then - they started upon the erection of the City of Pleasure, which they - intended to be, and which all the world now admits to be, the most - gigantic enterprise of amusement that Europe has ever seen. - </p> - <p> - As the balloon rose the general conformation of the City of Pleasure - became visible. Running almost north and south from Hammersmith Bridge was - the Central Way, the splendid private thoroughfare which had superseded - Bridge Road. It was a hundred feet wide, and its surface was treated with - westrumite, and a service of gaily coloured cable-cars flashed along it in - either direction, between the north and the south entrances to the City. - It was lined with multifarious buildings, all painted cream—the - theatre, the variety theatre, the concert hall, the circus, the panorama, - the lecture hall, the menagerie, the art gallery, the story-tellers’ hall, - the dancing-rooms, restaurants, cafés and bars, and those numerous shops - for the sale of useless and expensive souvenirs without which the - happiness of no Briton on a holiday is complete. The footpaths, 20 feet - wide, were roofed with glass, and between the footpaths and the roadway - came two rows of trees which were industriously taking advantage of the - weather to put forth their verdure. Footpaths and road were thronged with - people, and the street was made gay, not only by the toilettes and - sunshades of women, but also by processions of elephants, camels, and - other wild-fowl, bearing children of all ages in charge of gorgeous - Indians and Ethiops. From every roof floated great crimson flags with the - legend in gold: “City of Pleasure. President: Ilam; Director: - Carpentaria.” Add to this combined effect the music of bands and the - sunshine, and do not forget the virgin creaminess of the elaborate - architecture, and you will be able to form a notion of the spectacle - offered by the esplanade upon which Ilam and Carpentaria looked down. - </p> - <p> - Midway between the north and south entrances, the Central Way expanded - itself into a circular place, with a twenty-jetted bronze fountain in the - middle. To the west was the façade of what was called the Exposition - Palace, an enormous quadrangular building, containing a huge covered court - which, with its balconies, would hold twenty thousand people on wet days. - The galleries of the palace were devoted to an exhibition of everything - that related to woman, from high-heeled shoes to thrones; it was - astonishing how many things did relate to woman. North of the Exposition - Palace stretched out the Amusements Park, where people looped the loop, - shot the chute, wheeled the wheel, switched the switchback, etc.; and here - was the balloon enclosure. South of the palace lay the Sports Fields, - where a cricket match was progressing. - </p> - <p> - Finally, and most important of all, to the east of the circular place in - Central Way rose the impressive entrance to the Oriental Gardens, the - pride of Ilam and Carpentaria. The Oriental Gardens occupied the entire - eastern side of the City, and they sloped down to the Thames. They formed - over a hundred acres of gardens, wood, and pleasaunce, laid out with - formal magnificence. Flowers bloomed there in defiance of seasons. On - every hand the eye was met by vistas of trees and shrubs, and by lawns and - statues, and lakes and fountains. In the middle was Carpentaria’s own - special bandstand. A terrace, two thousand five. hundred feet long, - bordered the river, and from the terrace jutted out a pier at which - steamers were unloading visitors. - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0002" id="link2HCH0002"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER II—Interviewed - </h2> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">T</span>he occupants of - the balloon could see everything. They saw the debarcation from the - steamers; they saw the unending crowd of doll-like persons thrown up out - of the ground by the new Tube station at the south end of Hammersmith - Bridge; they saw the heavy persistent stream of vehicles and pedestrians - over the bridge; they saw the trains approaching Barnes on the - South-Western Railway; they saw the struggles for admittance at all the - gates of the City; they even saw flocks of people streaming Cityward along - the Barnes High Street and the Lower Richmond Road. It was not for nothing - that advertisements of the City of Pleasure had filled one solid page of - every daily paper in London, and many in the provinces, for a week past. - Visitors were now entering the city at the rate of seventy thousand an - hour, at a shilling a head. - </p> - <p> - There was a gentle tug beneath the car. The thousand feet of rope had been - paid out, and the balloon hung motionless. - </p> - <p> - Then a faint noise, something between the crackling of musketry and the - surge of waves on a pebbly beach, ascended from the city. - </p> - <p> - “They’re cheering,” said Josephus Ilam. “What for?” - </p> - <p> - “Cheering us, of course,” answered Carpentaria excitedly. “Isn’t it - immense?” - </p> - <p> - “Immense?” said Ilam heavily. “It’s hot. What did you want to show me up - here?” - </p> - <p> - “That!” exclaimed Carpentaria, pointing below to the city with a superb - gesture. “And that!” he added passionately, pointing with another gesture - to the whole of London, which lay spread out with all its towers and - steeples and its blanket of smoke, tremendous and interminable to the - east. “That is our prey,” he said, “our food.” - </p> - <p> - And he began to sing the Toreador song from “Carmen,” exultantly launching - the notes into the sky. - </p> - <p> - “Mr. Carpentaria,” said Josephus Ilam, with unexpected bitterness, “is - this your idea of a joke? Bringing me up here to see London and our show, - as if I didn’t know London and our show like my pocket!” - </p> - <p> - Ilam’s concealed, hatred of Carpentaria, which had been slowly growing for - more than a year, as a fire spreads secretly in the hold of a ship, seemed - to spurt out a swift tongue of flame in the acrimony of his tone. - Carpentaria was startled. Even then, in a sudden flash of illumination, he - grasped to a certain extent the import of Ilam’s attitude towards him, but - he did not grasp it fully. How should he? - </p> - <p> - “Why,” he said to himself, “I believe the old johnny dislikes mel What on - earth for?” He could not understand all Ilam’s reasons. “Pity!” he - reflected further. “If the managers of a show like this can’t hit it off - together, there may be trouble.” - </p> - <p> - In which supposition he was infinitely more right than he imagined. - </p> - <p> - He balanced himself lightly on the edge of the car, his left leg dangling, - and seized one of the field-glasses which hung secured by thin steel - chains round the inside of the wicker parapet, and putting it to his eyes, - he gazed down at the Oriental Gardens. He must have seen something there - that profoundly interested him, for the glasses remained glued to his eyes - for a long time. - </p> - <p> - “I repeat,” said Ilam firmly, standing up, “is this your idea of a joke?” - </p> - <p> - He was close to Carpentaria, and his glance was vicious. - </p> - <p> - “My friend,” murmured Carpentaria, dropping the glasses. “What’s the - matter with you is that you aren’t an artist, not a bit of one. You are an - excellent fellow, with a splendid head for figures, and I respect you - enormously, but you haven’t the artistic sense. If you had you would share - the thrill which I feel as I survey our creation and that London over - there. You would appreciate why I brought you up here.” - </p> - <p> - “I’m a business man—a plain business man, that’s what I am,” said - Ilam. “I’ve never pretended to be an artist, and I don’t want to be an - artist. Let me tell you that I ought to be in the advertisement - department, and not canoodling my time away up here, Mr. Carpentaria.” - </p> - <p> - “My dear sir,” said Carpentaria hastily, “accept my apologies. Let us - descend at once.” - </p> - <p> - “And while I’m about it,” pursued Ilam unheedingly—his irritation - was like a stone rolling down a hill—“while I’m about it, I’ll point - out that your objection to having advertisements on the walls of the - restaurants is fatuous.” - </p> - <p> - “But, my dear Ilam,” Carpentaria protested, “people don’t care to have to - read advertisements while they’re at their meals. It puts them off. For - instance, to have it dinned into you that G. H. Mumm is the only champagne - worth drinking when you happen to be drinking Heidsieck, or to have Wall’s - sausages thrust down your throat while you are toying with an ice-cream—people - don’t like it. We must think of our patrons. And, besides, it’s so inarti——” - </p> - <p> - “Rubbish!” said Ilam. “One way and another these ads. would be worth a - hundred’ a week to us.” - </p> - <p> - “Well, and what’s a hundred a week?” - </p> - <p> - “It’s the interest on a hundred and twenty thousand pounds,” Ilam replied - vivaciously. “And there’s another thing. It would be much better if you - employed more time in inspection instead of rehearsing and conducting your - precious band. Any fool can conduct a band. Give me a stick and I’d do it - myself. But inspection———” - </p> - <p> - “My precious band!” stammered Carpentaria, aghast. - </p> - <p> - His very soul was laid low; and considering that Carpentaria’s Band had - been famous in the capitals of two continents for twelve years at least, - it was not surprising that his soul should be laid low by this terrible - phrase. - </p> - <p> - “Yes,” said Ilam, “I’ve had enough of it.” His shoulder touched - Carpentaria’s, and his eyes—little, like a pig’s—shot arrows - of light. “Supposing I shoved you over? I should have the concern to - myself then, and no foolish interference.” - </p> - <p> - He twisted his face into a grim laugh. - </p> - <p> - “You have a sense of humour, after all, Ilam,” responded gaily the man on - the edge of the car, fingering his long red moustache, and he, too, - laughed, but he got down from his perch. - </p> - <p> - “I’d just like you to comprehend——” Ilam began again. - </p> - <p> - But at that instant a head appeared above the edge of the central aperture - of the car, and Ilam stopped. - </p> - <p> - It was the head of the young man in spectacles—gold-rimmed - spectacles. - </p> - <p> - “I’m Smithers, of the <i>Morning Herald</i>,” said the young man brightly - and calmly, “and I took this opportunity of seeing you privately. Your men - objected when I got into the parachute attachment, but you told ‘em to let - go, and so they let go. I’ve had some difficulty in climbing up here off - the parachute bar. Dangerous, rather. However, I’ve done it. I dare say - you heard the crowd cheering.” - </p> - <p> - “So it was him they were cheering,” muttered Ilam, and then looked at - Carpentaria. - </p> - <p> - Ilam was not a genius in the art of conversation. He could only say what - he meant, and when the running of the City of Pleasure demanded the art of - conversation he relied on Carpentaria, even if he was furious with him. - </p> - <p> - “What’s the game?” asked Carpentaria. - </p> - <p> - “Well,” said Smithers politely, “don’t you think I deserve an interview?” - </p> - <p> - “You know we have absolutely declined all interviews.” - </p> - <p> - “Yes, that’s why the <i>Herald</i> wants one so badly; that’s why I’m - dangling a thousand feet above my grave.” - </p> - <p> - Carpentaria and Ilam exchanged glances. Each read the thought of the other—that - the spectacled Smithers might have overheard their conversation, and - should therefore be handled with care, this side up. “Leave it to me,” - said the eyes of Carpentaria to the eyes of Ilam. - </p> - <p> - “Mr. Smithers, of the <i>Herald</i>”—Carpentaria blossomed into the - flowers of speech—“we heartily applaud your courage and your - devotion to duty in a profession full of perils, but you are trespassing.” - </p> - <p> - “Excuse me, I’m not,” said Smithers. “You can only trespass on land and - water, and this isn’t a salmon river or a forbidden footpath. Besides, - I’ve got my press season-ticket. Come now, talk to me.” - </p> - <p> - “We are talking to you.” - </p> - <p> - “I mean, answer my questions, for the benefit of humanity. I’m the father - of a family with two penniless aunts, and the <i>Herald</i> will probably - sack me if I fail in this interview. Think of that.” - </p> - <p> - “I prefer not to think of it,” said Carpentaria. “However, we will answer - any reasonable questions you care to put to us, on one condition.” - </p> - <p> - “Name it,” snapped Smithers. - </p> - <p> - “I will name it afterwards,” said Carpentaria, looking at Ilam. - </p> - <p> - “All right,” sighed Smithers, “I agree, whatever it is.” - </p> - <p> - “You look like an honourable man. I shall trust you,” Carpentaria - remarked. - </p> - <p> - “Journalists are always honourable,” said Smithers. “It is their employers - who sometimes—however, that’s neither here nor there. You may trust - me. Now tell me. Why this objection to interviews? That’s what’s puzzling - the public. You’re a business concern, aren’t you?” - </p> - <p> - “That’s just the reason,” said Carpentaria. “We aren’t a star-actor or a - bogus company. We’re above interviews, we are. Do you catch Smith and Son, - or Cook’s, or the North-Western Railway, or Mrs. Humphry Ward having - themselves interviewed?” - </p> - <p> - “Not much,” ejaculated Ilam glumly. - </p> - <p> - “People who refuse to be interviewed have a status that other people can - never have. Our business is our business. When we want the public to know - anything, we take a page in the <i>Herald</i>, say, and pay two hundred - and fifty pounds for it, and inform the public exactly what we do want ’em - to know, in our own words. We do not require the assistance of - interviewers. There’s the whole secret. What next?” - </p> - <p> - “That seems pretty straight,” Smithers agreed. “Another thing. Why have - you gone and called this concern the City of Pleasure?” - </p> - <p> - “Because it is the City of Pleasure,” growled Ilam. - </p> - <p> - “Yes. But it seems rather a fancy name, doesn’t it?—rather too - poetical, highfalutin?” - </p> - <p> - “That’s merely because you journalists never have any imagination,” - Carpentaria explained. “You aren’t used to this name yet. It was you - journalists who cried out that the Crystal Palace was a too poetical and - highfalutin name for that glass wigwam over there”—and he pointed to - the twin towers of Sydenham in the distance—“but you’ve got used to - it, and you admit now that it is the Crystal Palace and couldn’t be - anything else.” - </p> - <p> - Smithers laughed. - </p> - <p> - “Good!” said he. “All that’s nothing. Let me come to the core of the - apple. Do you expect this thing to pay? Do you really mean it to pay, or - is it only a millionaire’s lark? You know all the experts are saying it - can’t pay.” - </p> - <p> - “Can’t it?” ejaculated Ilam. - </p> - <p> - “We shall take fifteen thousand pounds at the gates to-day,” said - Carpentaria. “The highest attendance in any one day at the Paris - Exhibition of 1900 was six hundred thousand. Do you imagine we can’t equal - that? We shall surpass it, sir. Wait for our August fêtes. Wait for our - Congress of Trade Unions in September, and you will see! The average total - attendance at the last three Paris exhibitions has been forty-five - millions. We hope to reach fifty millions. But suppose we only reach forty - millions. That means two million pounds in gates alone; and let me remind - you that the minor activities of this show are self-supporting. Why, the - Chicago Exhibition made a profit of nearly a million and a half dollars. - Do you suppose we can’t beat that, with a city of six million people at - our doors, and the millions of Lancashire and Yorkshire within four hours - of us?” - </p> - <p> - “But Chicago was State-aided,” Mr. Smithers ventured. - </p> - <p> - “State-aided!” cried Ilam. “Chicago was the worst-managed show in the - history of shows, except St. Louis. If the State came to me I should—I - should——” - </p> - <p> - “Offer it a penny to go away and play in the next street.” Carpentaria - finished his sentence for him. - </p> - <p> - “You interest me extremely,” said the journalist. “And now, as to the - number of your employés.” - </p> - <p> - He chuckled to himself with glee at the splendid interview he was getting - out of Carpentaria and Ilam as they obligingly responded to his queries. - It was Ilam who at last revolted, and insisted that he must descend. - </p> - <p> - “Now for my condition,” said Carpentaria. - </p> - <p> - “Let’s have it,” said the journalist. - </p> - <p> - “You asked us to talk to you and we have talked to you. The condition is - that you regard all you have heard up here as strictly confidential—mind, - all! You tell no one; you print nothing..Remember, you are an honourable - man.” - </p> - <p> - “But this is farcical,” Smithers expostulated. - </p> - <p> - “Not at all,” said Carpentaria sweetly. “Do you imagine that because you - have an inordinate amount of cheek, a family and two penniless aunts, we - are going to break the habits of a life-time? For myself, I have never - been interviewed.” - </p> - <p> - “Is this your last word?” the journalist demanded. - </p> - <p> - “It is,” said Carpentaria. - </p> - <p> - “Very well,” said the journalist, and his head disappeared. - </p> - <p> - “Let us descend,” said Ilam, savagely pleased. And he waved the descent - flag. - </p> - <p> - “We shan’t descend just yet,” the journalist informed them, popping up his - head again. - </p> - <p> - “And pray, why not?” - </p> - <p> - “Because I’ve cut the rope.” - </p> - <p> - Carpentaria, always calm when art was not concerned, tore a fragment of - paper from an envelope in his pocket and threw it out of the car. It sank - away rapidly from the balloon. Moreover, it was evident, even to the eye, - that their distance from the earth was vastly increasing. - </p> - <p> - “I withdraw my promise now this moment,” said the journalist, climbing - carefully into the car. “Everything that you say henceforward will be - printed. We shall have quite an exciting trip. We may even get to France. - Anyhow, I shall have a clinking column for Monday’s <i>Herald</i>. You - evidently hadn’t quite appreciated what the new journalism is.” - </p> - <p> - Then there was silence in the mounting balloon. - </p> - <p> - Ilam bent his malevolent eyes longingly upon the disappearing scene below. - The glory of the sunshine was nothing to him. He wanted to be in the - advertisement department, arranging future contracts for spaces on the - programmes. He reflected that it was another of the mad caprices of - Carpentaria that had got him into this grotesque scrape. And he was so - angry that he forgot even to think of the danger to which he was exposed. - </p> - <p> - “So here we are!” said the journalist. “And you can’t do anything!” - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0003" id="link2HCH0003"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER III—Inspiration - </h2> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">P</span>ermit me to say, - Mr. Smithers,” Carpentaria remarked at last, “that your knavery is futile. - The resources of civilization are not yet exhausted. We are, in fact, - already descending.” - </p> - <p> - He held tightly in his hand the end of a rope, which reached up high above - them and was lost in the mass of cordage. He had opened the valve to its - widest. - </p> - <p> - “Don’t venture to move,” he added, “or Mr. Ilam will break your head for - you. This affair will cost us nothing but a few thousand cubic feet of gas - at a half-a-crown a thousand. What it will cost you, I shall have to - consider.” - </p> - <p> - And without saying anything further for the moment, he unloosed a very - thin cable that was wound round a windlass in the car itself, and, tying a - white flag at the end of it, he began to lower it rapidly over the edge of - the car. - </p> - <p> - Thanks to the perfect calm which reigned, the balloon was still well over - the Amusements Park. - </p> - <p> - Soon the voyagers could perceive the excited movements of the crowds - below, and then the white flag touched earth, and was seized by the eager - hands of the balloonists, and slowly the balloon, in a condition bordering - on collapse, subsided to the ground with the gentleness of a fatigued - British workman falling asleep. And great cheers, for the second time that - day, filled the air. - </p> - <p> - “You might have been sure,” said Carpentaria, when they were ten feet off - safety, “that in a show like this due precautions would be taken against - accidents and idiots!” - </p> - <p> - Smithers, nearly as limp as the balloon, made no reply. Josephus Ilam - glared over him. - </p> - <p> - “It’s nothing, it’s nothing!” cried Carpentaria to the staff, who besieged - the party with questions. “Fill her up as quick as you can, attach the - rope, and get ready for your public. Don’t bother me!” And he leapt out of - the car and was running, literally running, away, when Ilam called out: - “Hi! wait a minute. What’s to be done with this maniac here?” And Ilam - muttered to himself, “Why does he run away like that? What’s his next - caprice going to be?” - </p> - <p> - “I was forgetting,” said Carpentaria, stopping. “Young man”—and he - addressed Smithers severely—“follow me, and no nonsense!” - </p> - <p> - Smithers obediently followed, pushing after Carpentaria through the - curious crowds. They came at length to the Central Way, and Carpentaria - halted and took Smithers by the coat collar. - </p> - <p> - “Listen!” said he. “We’re much too busy to trouble with police-court - proceedings. And besides, there’s your brace of penniless aunts. Cut! - Clear out! Hook it! I rather admire you. See?” - </p> - <p> - Smithers saw, and vanished. - </p> - <p> - Carpentaria hastened on, rushing across the Central Way, scarcely avoiding - cable-cars, and so, by a private passage between two shops, into the - Oriental Gardens. Now, just within the Oriental Gardens, on either side of - the grand entrance to them, were two spacious houses, built in the - bungalow style, with enclosed gardens of their own. One of these was - occupied by Josephus Ilam and his mother, and the other by Carpentaria and - his half-sister, Juliette D’Avray. Between the house of Ilam and the back - of the shops in Central Way was one of those small waste trifles of ground - which often get left in planning a vast exhibition or show. It was - skilfully hidden from the view of the public by wooden palisades, and in - this palisading was a door, painted so as to escape detection. The plot of - ground, about three yards by two, was already being utilized for lumber. - Carpentaria entered by the door and shut it after him. A man—a - middle-aged man, in a blue suit of rather shabby appearance—was - seated on some planks. He started up, and then seemed to sway. - </p> - <p> - “What are you doing here?” Carpentaria curtly demanded. - </p> - <p> - “Look ’ere,” said the man, swaying towards Carpentaria, “I’m aw ri’—you’re - aw ri’—eh? I’m a gemman. Come here to re’—rest. You leave me - ’lone—I leave you ’lone. Stop, I give you my car’.” - </p> - <p> - The man was obviously inebriated and Carpentaria was in no mood to spend - precious minutes in diplomacy with a victim of Bacchus. He departed, - shutting the door, and leaving the victim fumbling with a card-case. He - meant to send some one to eject the man, but he forgot. - </p> - <p> - “Say!” cried the drunkard after him, “how ju know I wazz ’ere? Mus’ - been up in a b’loon—I repea’—b’loon.” - </p> - <p> - In another moment Carpentaria was in the study of his bungalow, panting. - </p> - <p> - “Quick!” he said to Juliette, an extremely natty little woman of thirty or - so. - </p> - <p> - He sank into the chair before his desk. Juliette placed some music-paper - in front of him and put a pen in his hand, and he scrawled across the top - of the page “The Balloon Lullaby,” and began to scribble notes—quavers, - crotchets, semibreves, and some other strange wonders—all over the - page. - </p> - <p> - “It came to me all of a sudden,” he murmured, “while we were up in the - balloon.” - </p> - <p> - “Don’t talk, dear,” said Juliette. “Write.” - </p> - <p> - And he wrote. - </p> - <p> - When it was finished Carpentaria wiped his brow and drank a whisky and - milk which Juliette had prepared for him. He sighed with content and - exhaustion. The creative crisis was over. - </p> - <p> - “Play it,” he ejaculated. - </p> - <p> - And Juliette sat down at the piano near the window overlooking the - magnificent gardens, and played softly the two hundred and forty-seventh’ - <i>opus</i> of Carpentaria. - </p> - <p> - “It is lovely,” she said. - </p> - <p> - “Yes,” he admitted. “It’s a classy little thing. Came to me just like - that!” He snapped his fingers. - </p> - <p> - “Your best ones always do,” Juliette smiled. - </p> - <p> - “I’ll have that performed this very night,” he stated. - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0004" id="link2HCH0004"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER IV—Mrs. Ilam - </h2> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">S</span>omewhat later on - the same afternoon, in the drawing-room of the house opposite, Josephus - Ilam was drinking tea with his mother. The aged Mrs. Ilam, who was very - thin and not in the least tall—her son would have made a dozen of - her—sat tremendously upright in her chair, while Josephus lolled his - great bulk in angry attitudes on a sofa, near which the tea-table had been - placed. Mrs. Ilam wore widow’s weeds, though it was many years since she - had lost her husband, a man who had made a vast fortune out of soda-water—in - the days when soda-water <i>was</i> soda-water. She had a narrow, hard - face, with intensely black eyes, and intensely white hair, and when she - directed those eyes upon her son, it became instantly plain that her son - was at once her idol and her slave. She lived solely for this man of - fifty, who had scarcely ever left her side. For her this mass of fifteen - stone four was still a young child, needing watchful care and constant - advice. Certainly she spoilt him; but, just as certainly, he went in awe - of her. The fact that by judicious investments in hotel and public-house - property he had more than doubled the fortune which his father left, did - not at all improve his standing with the antique dame; it only made him in - her view a clever boy with financial leanings. Moreover, every penny of - the Ilam fortune was legally hers during her lifetime. Even Ilam’s share - in the City of Pleasure was hers. When Carpentaria had discovered him, he - had had to decide whether or not he should put more than a million pounds - into the enterprise, and it was his mother who decided, who listened to - everything, and then briefly told him that he would be a fool to leave the - thing alone. - </p> - <p> - “Well,” she said, in her high quavering voice, as she passed him a cup of - tea—the cup rattled on the saucer in her blue-veined parchment hand—“so - you are not getting on with Carpentaria? I was afraid you wouldn’t.” - </p> - <p> - “He won’t listen to reason about the advertisements,” said Ilam crossly, - stirring his tea. - </p> - <p> - “No?” - </p> - <p> - “And he’s absolutely mad about his music. He’s spent ten hours in - rehearsing these last two days. All the work, I’ve had to do myself.” - </p> - <p> - “Indeed!” - </p> - <p> - “And then, to crown his exploits, he takes me up in the balloon, mother—wastes - a solid hour.” - </p> - <p> - “In the balloon!” - </p> - <p> - Ilam recounted the incident of the balloon. - </p> - <p> - “And, after all, he lets that impudent journalist go free—absolutely - free!” - </p> - <p> - “Jos,” said his mother, “it’s a wonder you’re alive, my dear.” - </p> - <p> - “It’s a pity Carpentaria’s alive,” rejoined Ilam. - </p> - <p> - His mother’s burning eyes met his. - </p> - <p> - “That’s just what I’ve been thinking,” she piped calmly. - </p> - <p> - Her son’s gaze dropped. - </p> - <p> - “Since when?” - </p> - <p> - “Since you began grumbling about him, last week but one, my pet.” - </p> - <p> - “He’s no use now,” Ilam grumbled. “We’ve carried out all his ideas, and - it’s simply a matter of business, and Carpentaria doesn’t know the meaning - of the word ‘business.’ Just think of his argument about those ads.!” - </p> - <p> - “Never mind that, Jos,” Mrs. Ilam put in. - </p> - <p> - “He’s only in the way now,” Jos proceeded gloomily. - </p> - <p> - “I suppose he wouldn’t retire,” Mrs. Ilam suggested. - </p> - <p> - “Retire? Of course he wouldn’t retire—nothing would induce him to - retire. He enjoys it—he enjoys annoying me.” - </p> - <p> - “Anyway,” said the mother, “you’ll have the satisfaction of a very great - success.” - </p> - <p> - She looked out of the window at the gardens. - </p> - <p> - “Yes,” growled Ilam. “And he gets half the profits. I’ve found all the - money, and he hasn’t found a cent. But he gets half the profits. What for? - A few ideas—nothing else. He pretends to direct, but he’ll direct - nothing except his blessed band. And I reckon we shall clear a profit of - ten thousand a week! Half of ten is five.” - </p> - <p> - “He only gets half the profits as long as he lives, Jos,” said Mrs. Ilam. - “After that—nothing.” - </p> - <p> - “Nothing,” agreed Jos, biting cruelly into a hot scone. “But as long as he - lives he’s costing me, say, five thousand a week, besides worry.” - </p> - <p> - “He mayn’t live long,” Mrs. Ilam ventured. “No, but he may live - fifty-years.” - </p> - <p> - “Supposing he died very suddenly, Jos,” Mrs. Ilam pursued calmly; “he - wouldn’t be the first person that was inconvenient to you who had - disappeared unexpectedly.” - </p> - <p> - “Mother!” Ilam almost shouted, starting up. “But would he?” Mrs. Ilam - persisted. - </p> - <p> - “No, he wouldn’t,” muttered Josephus, and his voice trembled. - </p> - <p> - Mrs. Ilam blew out the spirit-lamp under the kettle as though she was - blowing out Carpentaria. “I’m off,” said Josephus nervously. - </p> - <p> - “Wait a moment, child. Ring the bell for me.” A servant entered. - </p> - <p> - “Bring me your master’s knitted waistcoat,” said Mrs. Ilam. - </p> - <p> - “But, mother, I shan’t want it.” - </p> - <p> - “Yes, you will, Jos. There’s no month more treacherous than May. You’ll - put it on to please me.” - </p> - <p> - He obeyed, bent down to kiss his terrible parent, and departed. - </p> - <p> - “Think it over,” she called out after him. - </p> - <p> - Ilam stopped. - </p> - <p> - “And then, what about his sister?” he said. “Don’t mix up two quite - separate things,” Mrs. Ilam responded. “Besides, she isn’t his sister.” - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0005" id="link2HCH0005"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER V—The Band - </h2> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">T</span>hat night the City - of Pleasure was illuminated. Eighty thousand tiny electric lamps hanging - in festoons from standard to standard lighted the Central Way alone; the - façades of all the places of amusement were outlined in fire; the shops - glittered; and the cable-cars, as they flashed to and fro, bore the - monogram I.C. in electricity on their foreheads. At eight o’clock the - thoroughfare was crowded with visitors, and the stream of arrivals was - stronger than ever. In the superb restaurants, at all prices (no matter - what the price, they were equally superb in decoration), five thousand - diners were finishing five thousand dinners, their eyes undisturbed by the - presence of advertisements on the walls. The theatre, the music-hall, the - circus, the menagerie, the concerts, and the rest of the entertainments, - were filling up. In the Amusements Park people shot down railways into - water, slid down smooth slopes into mattresses, circled in great wheels, - floated in the latest novelties of merry-go-rounds, ascended in the - balloon, and practised all the other devices for frittering away eternity, - just as though night had not fallen. In the vast court of the Exposition - Palace a band was swelling the strains of the newest waltzes to three - storeys of loungers and sitters at café-tables, while within the interior - of the building men and women wandered about examining the multifarious - attractions of the Woman’s Exhibition. - </p> - <p> - But the chief joy was the Oriental Gardens, wherein a multitude of over - fifty thousand persons had gathered together. The Oriental Gardens were - illuminated, but in a different manner from the Central Way. Chinese - lanterns were suspended everywhere in the budding trees, giving the - illusion of magic precocious flowers that had blossomed there in a single - hour, in all the tints of the rainbow and many others entirely foreign to - the rainbow. The bandstand alone was picked out in electricity. It blazed - in the centre of the gardens like a giant’s crown, and, although yet - empty, it formed the main object of attention. Overhead stretched a - dark-blue sky, silvered with stars, and the wind had a warm and caressing - quality which encouraged sightseers to expose themselves to it to such an - extent that the fifteen cafés of the Oriental Gardens, some sheltered, - some quite open, but each a centre of light and laughter, were every one - crowded with guests. The four thousand chairs surrounding the bandstand - were occupied, and also the six thousand other chairs dispersed in various - parts of the gardens. The murmur of conversation, the rustle of dresses, - the tinkle of glasses, the rumour of uncountable footsteps, rose on the - air. The faces of pretty women could be observed obscurely in the - delicious gloom, and the glowing scarlet of cigars bobbed mysteriously - about like aspecies of restless glow-worm. - </p> - <p> - And everybody was conscious of the sensation of the extraordinary and - amazing success of the great show. The evening papers had carried the news - of the wonderful thing to each suburb of London. These papers gave from - hour to hour the number of the persons who had passed the turnstiles, and - calculated the number of tons of shillings that Ilam and Carpentaria would - have to bank on Monday morning. But the principal thing that struck the - evening papers was the complete readiness of the City of Pleasure. No - detail of it was unfinished, and all agreed that this phenomenon stood - unique in the history of the art of amusing immense crowds. All felt that - a new era of amusement enterprise had been ushered in by Ilam and - Carpentaria, that everything was changed, and that in the future an - enlightened and excessively exacting public would not be satisfied with - what had pleased it in the past. And the owners of the old-fashioned - resorts trembled in their shoes, and hated Ilam and Carpentaria, while the - myriad patrons of Ilam and Carpentaria on that first day flattered - themselves that they had personally assisted at the birth of the grand - innovation, and thought how they would say to their grandchildren: “Yes, I - was present at the opening of the City of Pleasure, and a marvellous - affair it was,” and so on, in the manner of grandparents. - </p> - <p> - All were expecting Carpentaria, the lion of the show. - </p> - <p> - His band was due to perform from eight o’clock to ten, and special bills, - posted on the sides of the gilded bandstand and in the cafés, announced: - “Carpentaria’s band will play the Balloon Lullaby, the latest composition - of Carpentaria, composed this afternoon.” - </p> - <p> - At ten minutes before eight the members of the band, sixty in number, and - clad in the imperial purple uniform, marched in Indian file across the - gardens to the stand. At a distance of ten paces from the end of the - procession came Carpentaria, preceded by a small page bearing his baton on - a cushion of purple velvet. Carpentaria always did things with - overwhelming style and solemnity. Superior persons laughed at the style - and solemnity, but the vast majority did not laugh; they cheered; they - appreciated. Whether they were right or wrong, the indubitable fact is - that these things came naturally to Carpentaria; they were the expression - of his exceedingly theatrical soul, the devices of a man who believes in - himself. - </p> - <p> - At eight o’clock precisely Carpentaria faced the fifty thousand from his - bandstand, and, after having bowed elaborately thrice, turned to the band, - and lifted the sacred stick. - </p> - <p> - It was a dramatic moment, the real inauguration of the City of Pleasure. - </p> - <p> - Cheers and hurrahs rolled in terrific volumes of sound across the gardens, - and they did not cease; and people not acquainted with the fame and renown - of Carpentaria perceived what it was to be a favourite of capitals, a - leading star in the galaxy of stars that the public salutes and - recognizes. - </p> - <p> - Carpentaria preserved the immobility of carven stone until the plaudits - had ceased; they lasted for exactly five and a half minutes. Consequently - the concert was exactly five and a half minutes late in commencing. - Carpentaria himself was never late, but his public had a habit of delaying - him. - </p> - <p> - Suddenly he brought rown his baton with a surprising shock. The carven - stone had started into life, and “God save the King” was under way. - </p> - <p> - Now to see Carpentaria conduct was one of the sights of the world. He - conducted not merely with his hand and eye, but with the whole of his - immortal frame and his uniform. It was said that he was capable of - conducting the Eroica Symphony of Beethoven with his left foot—and - who shall deny it? “God save the King” was child’s play to him. Moreover, - he showed a certain reserve in handling it. He merely conducted it as - though in conducting it he himself were literally saving the King. That - was all. But with what snap, what dash, what <i>chic</i>, what splash and - what magnificent presence of mind did he save the King! The applause was - wild and ample. - </p> - <p> - The next item was “The City of Pleasure March,” composed by Carpentaria. - Indeed, Carpentaria conducted nothing but national hymns, his own - compositions, and, as a superlative concession, Wagner and Beethoven. “The - City of Pleasure” was in Carpentaria’s finest style, and it was planned to - give him the fullest scope in conducting it. He had already made it famous - in a triumphal tour through the United States in the previous year. It - began with the utmost possible volume of sound. It had a contagious and - infectious lilt to it, and both the lilt and the volume of sound were - continued without the slightest respite during the whole composition. In - the course of this masterpiece Carpentaria performed physical feats that - would have astounded Cinquevalli and the Schaffer Troupe. In the frenzy of - self-expression he all but stood on his head. The bandstand was too small - for him; he needed a planet on which to circulate. By turns his baton was - a sceptre, a pump-handle, a maypole, a crutch, a drumstick, a flag, a - toothpick, a mop, a pendulum, a whip, a bottle of soothing-syrup, and a - scorpion. By turns he whipped, tortured, encouraged, liberated, - imprisoned, mopped up, measured, governed, diverted, pushed over, pulled - back, and turned inside out his band, and whenever their enthusiasm seemed - likely to lead them into indiscretions, he soothed them with the - soothing-syrup. By turns the conducting of the piece was a march, a - campaign, a house on fire, the race for the Derby, the forging of a - hundred-ton gun, a display of fireworks, a mayoral banquet, and a mother - scolding a numerous family. - </p> - <p> - It was colossal. - </p> - <p> - At the close, as sudden as the shutting of a door, there was a vast - strange silence, and then the applause, as colossal as the piece, broke - out like a conflagration. - </p> - <p> - Carpentaria bowed; the entire band bowed; Carpentaria bowed again. Lastly - he indicated a flute-player with his baton, and the flute-player came - forward and shared the glory of Carpentaria. Why a flute-player, no one - could have guessed. Forty flutes could not have been heard in that - terrific concourse of brass and drums. But Carpentaria was Carpentaria. - </p> - <p> - “Did any of you hear the sound of a shot?” Carpentaria said in a low voice - to his band. - </p> - <p> - “Shot? No, sir. No, sir,” came from a dozen mouths. “Why, sir?” - </p> - <p> - “Because a bullet has just grazed my ear. It was in the fourth bar from - the end.” He put his hand to his ear and showed blood on his finger. “It’s - nothing, nothing,” he quieted them. “I shall expect you to behave as - though nothing had occurred, as soldiers in fact.” - </p> - <p> - “Certainly, sir,” replied the intrepid band. - </p> - <p> - Carpentaria gazed at one of the iron supports of the roof of the - bandstand. In a line with his head the surface of the pillar had been - damaged and dented. He disturbed two trombone-players in order to search - the floor, and in a few seconds he had found a flattened bullet, which he - put in his pocket. - </p> - <p> - “Number two,” he said sharply, going to his desk and tapping it. - </p> - <p> - Number two was the lullaby. No more striking contrast to the march could - have been found. It was so delicate, so softly stealing, that you could - scarcely hear it; and yet you could hear it—you could hear it - everywhere. Carpentaria drew sweetness out of his band with the gestures - of a conjurer drawing an interminable roll of coloured paper from his - mouth, previously shown to be empty. It was the daintiest thing, swaying - in the air like gossamer. It brought tears to the orbs of mothers, and - made strong men close their eyes. Such was the versatility of Carpentaria. - </p> - <p> - The applause amounted to a furore. - </p> - <p> - “I give you my word of honour, ladies and gentlemen,” said Carpentaria, - coming to the rail of the stand and stilling the cheers with a gesture, - “at halfpast three this afternoon not a note of the little piece was - composed.” - </p> - <p> - His demeanour gave no sign of agitation. But at the close of the concert, - no more bullets having arrived, he wiped his brow with relief. Most of the - band did the same. - </p> - <p> - He walked about on the river terrace for over an hour, calming his spirit, - which had been through so many excitements, artistic and otherwise, during - the afternoon and evening. And he meditated, now on the bullet, and now on - Ilam. He could scarcely realize how nearly he had escaped quarrelling with - Ilam in the balloon; their relations hitherto had been invariably - amicable, at any rate on the surface; and he had done so much for Ilam; he - had put a second fortune in Ilam’s pocket. The dazzling success of the day - of inauguration was the success of Carpentaria’s ideas. And yet Ilam hated - him. He felt that Ilam hated him. He almost shuddered as he remembered the - moment when he had sat on the dizzy edge of the balloon-car, and Ilam had - threatened him, and then laughed. - </p> - <p> - The Oriental Gardens were empty and dark. The gay crowd had departed; the - lights were extinguished. Only the light in Ilam’s drawing-room shone - across the expanse as it had shone through all the evening. Carpentaria’s - own bungalow was dark. He wondered what Juliette was doing. - </p> - <p> - At length he set off home through the gardens. And just as he was entering - his front-door he recollected that he had given no instructions about the - drunken man in the enclosure. He turned back down the steps, and went into - the enclosure and struck a match. The man was lying on the ground, no - doubt asleep. - </p> - <p> - “Well, this is a caution!” he muttered. - </p> - <p> - A notion occurred to him, one of his fanciful pranks. He picked up the - unconscious man, who held himself stiff and did not even groan, and - carried him, not with too much difficulty—for Carpentaria was - extremely powerful—to the side-door of Ilam’s residence; he placed - the form against the door. Every night for weeks past Ilam had come out by - that door about midnight to take a final stroll of inspection. He felt - that he owed Ilam a grudge. Then he retired into the shadow and waited. - </p> - <p> - Presently the door opened, and Ilam fell over the man, as Carpentaria - hoped he would, and picked himself up with oaths and struck a match and - gazed at the form. - </p> - <p> - At the same instant a woman’s figure passed Carpentaria in the dark. He - was surprised to recognize Juliette. He touched her. - </p> - <p> - “Oh!” she cried softly, starting back. - </p> - <p> - “Why do you start like that?” he demanded. - </p> - <p> - “You—you—frightened me,” she said. - </p> - <p> - He escorted her into their house. When he came out again Ilam was - descending the steps by the side door. Nothing lay near the door. - </p> - <p> - “Seen anything of a drunken man?” Carpentaria called out. - </p> - <p> - “No,” said Ilam, after a pause. - </p> - <p> - “Not near your door?” - </p> - <p> - “No. Why?” - </p> - <p> - “Oh, nothing. Only I thought I saw one.” - </p> - <p> - “Good night,” growled Ilam, but instead of taking the air he returned - abruptly to the house. - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0006" id="link2HCH0006"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER VI—The Black Burden - </h2> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">C</span>urious! - Carpentaria meditated as he retired to his abode. “Having fallen over a - man lying drunk on his steps, why should my friend and partner, Mr. - Josephus Ilam, totally deny that he has seen a drunken man? With my own - eyes I saw him tumble. Now this mishap must have made Mr. Josephus Ilam - angry, because he is just the sort of person who does get angry upon the - provocation of a pure accident. Yet, so far as I could judge in the gloom, - there was no trace of anger in his demeanour when he answered my question. - On the contrary, he appeared to be rather subdued. - </p> - <p> - “And further—what has become of my friend the drunken man? The - drunken man must exist somewhere. Is he in Ilam’s house? And, if so, why - is he in Ilam’s house? Neither Josephus nor his mother is precisely a type - of the Good Samaritan. And if he is not in Ilam’s house, has he suddenly - recovered and walked away on his legs unaided? Impossible! I was once - drunk, and I say, impossible. Then, has Josephus carried him somewhere? - And where has he carried him, and why?” - </p> - <p> - Carpentaria unlocked his front-door and entered the hall of his dwelling, - and then locked and bolted the door. He was not in the habit of either - locking or bolting his front-door; the idea of so securing a house which - stood in the middle of half a square mile of private property, well - guarded at all its gates, seemed ridiculous. Nevertheless he did it, and - he could have given no reason for doing it. He imagined that he heard - footsteps in the passage leading from the hall to the kitchen, and he - quickly turned on the electric light and looked down the passage. But - there was nothing. He decided that he was very nervous and impressionable - that night. The servants had, doubtless, long since gone to bed. He - extinguished the light and made his way upstairs to his study, and sat - down in his chair—the famous chair in which he composed his famous - melodies. The faint illumination of the May night made the principal - objects in the room vaguely visible. He could discern the pale square of - the framed autograph letter from President McKinley which hung on the - opposite wall. He tried to collect his ideas and think in a logical - sequence. - </p> - <p> - Then, again, he fancied that he heard footsteps, and that he saw a dim - form near the door. - </p> - <p> - “Who’s that?” he cried sharply. - </p> - <p> - “It’s only me,” answered a woman’s voice, and the electricity was at the - same instant switched on. - </p> - <p> - Juliette stood there. - </p> - <p> - “Why are you sitting in the dark, Carlos?” she demanded. - </p> - <p> - Carlos was her pet name for him. - </p> - <p> - “I don’t know,” he said lamely. - </p> - <p> - “My poor dear,” she smiled, approaching him. “I haven’t said good-night to - you.” - </p> - <p> - She put her long and elegant hands on his shoulders, as was her wont each - evening, and kissed him on both cheeks in her French fashion. The - affection between Carlos and his half-French half-sister was real and - profound. He liked her for her Parisian daintiness, and for the eminently - practical qualities which she possessed in common with most Frenchwomen, - and also because she regarded him as a genius. To-night he thought she was - sweeter and more sisterly than ever. - </p> - <p> - “Good-night,” she said, and her voice trembled, and a slight humidity - glistened in her eyes. - </p> - <p> - “Good-night,” he responded. - </p> - <p> - And she tripped off, swinging the perfect skirt of her black <i>mousseline</i> - dress round the edge of the door. - </p> - <p> - “She’s mightily excited to-night,” he murmured to himself; and he - reflected, as all men reflect from time to time, that women are strange - and incomprehensible, a device invented by Providence to keep the wit of - man well sharpened by constant employment. - </p> - <p> - He passed into his bedroom, and went out on to the wooden balcony of the - bedroom, which commanded a view of Ilam’s side-door. A light showed - through the glass above the door, and Carpentaria noticed at length that - the door was slightly ajar. He stepped back into the bedroom, extinguished - all his own lights, and returned to the balcony to watch. He determined to - watch as long as Ilam’s door remained ajar. He sat down in a cane chair - provided for repose on the balcony, and his one regret was that the glow - of a cigarette or a cigar would betray him. - </p> - <p> - He grew calmer. The frenzy into which music always threw him had quite - worn itself away. He was able to think clearly. He did not, however, think - so much upon the incident of the drunken man as upon the incident of the - bullet; and this was perhaps natural. He was astounded now that he could - have remained in the bandstand, so utterly careless of danger, after the - arrival of the bullet. He was astounded, too, at the sang-froid of his - musicians. But, then, their ears had not been grazed, and his had. He saw - that he was at the mercy of any homicidal maniac who, on a dark night, - with a good rifle and a sure aim, chose to secrete himself in some - deserted alley of the vast Oriental Gardens, and shoot at him during a - loud burst of music. And he said: “Well, if I am to die, I am to die, and - there’s an end of it. Assuming that a given man A has really determined to - kill another given man B, and A is obstinate, nothing will ultimately save - B. I am B. Hence I must be philosophical.” - </p> - <p> - But who was A? - </p> - <p> - He thought of all the enemies he had made, all the rivals he had defeated, - but the process of their enumeration was perfunctory. For out of the - depths of his mind rose persistently one name, again, and again, and - again, and yet again, like a succession of bubbles, all alike, rising to - the surface of a pond and breaking there. And that name was the name of - Ilam. He forbade the name to rise, but it rose. With the simplicity which - marked some of his mental processes, he could not understand why Ilam - should hate him murderously. But the episode of the balloon had magically - and terribly cast a new and searching light on the recesses of Ham’s - character. He felt that hitherto he had been mistaken in Ilam, and that - Ilam was not a person with whom it was wise to have interests in common. - And the unknown designs of Ilam seemed to surround him in the night like - the web of a gigantic spider, and to bind him tighter and tighter. - </p> - <p> - Then his reflections were interrupted by a sound somewhere below the - balcony. - </p> - <p> - It was the sound of his own side-door being very cautiously opened. He - could hear it perfectly clearly in the still night; but whether the door - was being opened from the outside or the inside he could not tell. He - remembered that, though he had bolted and locked the front-door, he had - utterly forgotten the side-door. He leaned over the balcony as far as he - dared, but even so he could catch no glimpse of anything in the obscurity - beneath. - </p> - <p> - And then there were steps on the gravel, and he saw a white blur moving on - the top of a dark mass. In another moment he perceived that the apparition - was Juliette, with a white shawl wrapped round her head. What was she - doing there, and why had she opened the door so cautiously? Had she some - secret? He decided to watch her. She moved to the middle of the avenue - between the two houses and hesitated. And then the great clock in the - tower of the Exposition Palace tolled the hour of twelve solemnly, as it - were warningly, over the immense extent of the sleeping City of Pleasure. - </p> - <p> - The appeal of the clock seemed to Carpentaria to be almost dramatic. He - felt strongly that he could not spy upon Juliette, that he could not be - disloyal to this affectionate companion of his life, and honourably he - called out to her: - </p> - <p> - “Juliette, what are you doing?” - </p> - <p> - His own voice startled him. It was so clear and penetrative in the gloom. - </p> - <p> - There was a slight pause. Then Juliette replied: “Carlos, you seem bent on - frightening me tonight. I thought you were in bed and asleep. You’ll take - cold on that balcony. I only came out to get a little air.” - </p> - <p> - The notion struck him that her head was turned directly to Ham’s house, - and yet she made no comment on the light there and the door ajar. - </p> - <p> - “Go in, there’s a good girl,” said Carpentaria. “It’s you who’ll be taking - cold.” - </p> - <p> - “I’m going in,” she answered. - </p> - <p> - And she went in. - </p> - <p> - He had yet another alarm. Something moved on the balcony itself, near a - row of flower-pots. Then he felt a pressure against his leg. - </p> - <p> - “Ah, Beppo!” he whispered, suddenly relieved, smiling at his nervous - timidity. A great Angora cat leaped on to his knees, and began clawing at - the superb pile of his purple trousers. He stroked the animal, and Beppo - purred with a volume of sound equal to that of many sawmills. “Don’t purr - so loud, Bep,” he advised the cat; but the cat, under the impression that - it was the centre of importance in the best of all possible worlds, purred - with undiminished vigour. - </p> - <p> - Five minutes, ten minutes, a quarter of an hour passed so, and then - Carpentaria heard heavy footsteps in the avenue from the direction of the - Central Way. He jumped up, shattering the illusions of Beppo, and listened - intently. A man presently appeared, walking slowly. He wondered who it - could be; but when the figure paused at Ilam’s steps, mounted them, and - pushed open the unlatched door, he saw that it was Ilam himself, and that - Ilam was holding in his arms a bundle of what looked like black cloth. The - vision of him was but transient, for Ilam closed the door at once. Ilam, - then, must have left his house before Carpentaria had come on to the - balcony. The watcher on the balcony felt his heart beating rapidly. His - calm had vanished. The frenzy of the music, the perturbation caused by the - bullet, had passed, only to give way to another and perhaps a more - dreadful excitation. What could these secret journeys of Ilam portend? He - clutched fiercely the rail of the balcony in his apprehensive anxiety. - </p> - <p> - After a time—not a very long time—the door opened again, and - for at least five seconds Josephus Ilam stood plainly silhouetted against - a light within the house, and over his shoulders, which were bent, he - carried an enormous limp burden, draped in black. He looked back into the - house once, then turned awkwardly, because of his burden, to shut the door - behind him, and with excessive deliberation descended the steps and came - out into the avenue. The figure and its burden were now nothing but a - shape in the gloom. - </p> - <p> - Carpentaria decided in the fraction of a second what he would do. He - slipped into his bedroom, took off his boots, put on a pair of felt - slippers, scurried downstairs, opened the side-door, and gently slipped - out. Ilam, tramping slowly with clumsy footsteps, had reached the arch - leading to the Central Way. - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0007" id="link2HCH0007"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER VII—The Cut - </h2> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">C</span>arpentaria dogged - him with all the precautions of silence as he turned to the right down the - Central Way. The great thoroughfare of the City of Pleasure was, of - course, absolutely deserted. Its fountains were stilled; its pretty - cable-cars had disappeared; its flags had been hauled down. The meagre - trees rustled chilly in the night-wind. Its vast and floriated white - architecture seemed under the sombre sky to be the architecture of a - dream. The one sign of human things was the illuminated face of the clock - over the Exposition Palace, which showed twenty-five minutes past twelve. - Of the two thousand souls employed in the City, more than half had gone to - their homes in the other city, London, and several hundreds slept in the - dormitories that had been built for them at the southern extremity of the - Central Way. The remaining hundred or so were dispersed in various parts - of the City, either watching or asleep. Some had the right to sleep at - their posts. But the men of the highly-organized fire service would be - awake and alert. - </p> - <p> - Yet there happened to be no living creature on the Way, except its two - chiefs. Ilam crossed the Way, and turned off it through an avenue that lay - between the lecture hall and the menagerie. Carpentaria followed at a safe - distance, hiding in the thick shadows as he went. From the interior of the - menagerie came the subdued growls and groans of the wild beasts therein, - suffering from insomnia, and longing for the jungle. Among the treasures - of the menagerie was a society of twenty-seven lions, who went through a - performance twice a day under their trainer, Brant, the king of - lion-tamers, as he was called on the City of Pleasure programmes, and as - he, in fact, was. There were also a celebrated sanguinary tiger, that had - killed three men in New York, and various other delicate attractions. The - nocturnal noises of these fearsome animals were sufficiently appalling. - And when Ilam stopped before a little door in the south façade of the - menagerie building, a cold perspiration froze the forehead and the spirit - of Carpentaria. Was the man going to yield his mysterious black-enveloped - burden to the lions and the tigers, the jackals and the hyenas, of that - inestimable collection of African and Asiatic fauna? - </p> - <p> - But Ilam struggled onwards. And next they passed the electricity works, - which was in full activity, for the manufacture of light went on night and - day in the City of Pleasure. Ilam slunk along the front of the workshops, - increasing his pace. Fortunately for him, the windows were seven feet from - the ground, so that he could not be observed from within. The whirr of the - wheels revolving incessantly in front of gigantic magnets filled the air, - and from the high windows shone a steely-blue radiance, chequered by the - flying shadows of machinery. - </p> - <p> - Ilam turned again, and entered the Amusements Park, and, threading his way - among chutes, switchbacks, slides, and ponds, he crossed it from end to - end. - </p> - <p> - “Where is he going?” Carpentaria muttered. - </p> - <p> - And then, suddenly, it occurred to Carpentaria where Ilam was going. - </p> - <p> - Behind the Amusements Park, and abutting on the confines of the City - territory, was a large waste piece of ground which had been used for - excavations and for refuse. In the tremendous operation of levelling the - site of the City, digging foundations, and gardening in the landscape - manner, much earth had been needed in one spot, and much earth had had to - be removed in another. The waste piece of ground was the clearing-house of - this business. In certain parts it was humped like a camel’s back, and in - others it was hollowed into pits. Immense quantities of soil lay loose, - and there were, besides, barrows and spades in abundance. - </p> - <p> - Arrived in the midst of this sterile wilderness, Ilam unceremoniously - dropped his burden near a miniature mountain, which raised itself by the - side of a miniature pit. He then found a spade, and, having tested the - looseness of the soil, took up the black mystery and slipped it carefully - into the pit. Then he climbed with the spade on to the summit of the - hillock, and began to push the soil from the hillock into the pit. It - proved to be the simplest thing in the world. In five minutes the burden - of Ilam lay under several feet of soil. - </p> - <p> - Carpentaria, favoured by the nature of the spot, had crept closer. - </p> - <p> - “Earth to earth, ashes to ashes, dust to dust!” he heard Ilam reciting. - Amazing phenomenon! But nothing can be more amazing than the behaviour of - an utterly respectable man when he is committing a crime! - </p> - <p> - The affair finished, Ilam departed, passing within a few feet of - Carpentaria, who stretched himself flat on the ground to avoid detection. - </p> - <p> - And when Ilam had vanished out of sight, Carpentaria jumped up feverishly, - seized the spade, leapt into the pit and began to dig—to dig with a - fury of haste. Fate helped him, for the black mass was uncovered in less - time than had been taken to cover it. He dragged it slowly out of the pit, - and slowly, almost reluctantly, unwrapped it. He had been sure at the - first touch that it was the body of a man, and he was not mistaken. In the - gloomy night he could see the white patches made by the face and the - hands. The body was not yet stiff. He hesitated, and then struck a match. - He hoped the wind would blow it out, but the wind spared it; it flared - bravely, and lighted the face of the corpse, and the corpse was that of - the mysterious drunken man. - </p> - <p> - A thousand unanswerable questions fought together for solution in - Carpentaria’s brain. - </p> - <p> - He knew himself to be in the presence of a crime, of a murder. His legal - duty, therefore, was to fetch justice in the shape of a policeman. But he - reflected that no battalion of policemen and judges could undo the crime, - bring the dead to life, make innocent the guilty. He reflected also upon - the clumsiness of State justice, and the inconveniences attaching to it, - and upon the immeasurable harm its advent might do to the opening season - of the City of Pleasure. Moreover, he had a horror of capital punishment, - and he was a bold and original man, though an artist. He settled rapidly - in his mind that he himself would probe the matter to its root, and that - the justice involved should be the private justice of Carpentaria, not the - public justice of the realm. - </p> - <p> - And a few minutes later he had discovered a long, flat barrow, and was - wheeling away the burden that had bent the back of Josephus Ilam. He - brought it circuitously and gently by way of the Sports Fields round again - to the Central Way, and so to the neighbourhood of his own house. The - night had now grown darker than ever, and a few drops of rain began to - fall. - </p> - <p> - Suddenly, as he was approaching the two bungalows, he stopped and - listened. He thought he heard footsteps; but no sound met his ear, and he - raised the handles of the barrow again. By this time he was midway between - the bungalows and about to turn to the side-entrance of his own. Once more - he stopped; he distinctly did hear footsteps crushing the gravel. - </p> - <p> - “What is that? Anyone there?” cried a voice. - </p> - <p> - And it was Ilam’s voice, full of fear. Carpentaria crept away to the - shelter of his own wall, leaving the barrow that had become a bier in the - midst of the path. Vaguely and dimly he saw the form of Ilam coming down - the avenue, saw it stop uncertainly before the barrow, saw it bend down, - and then he heard a shriek—a shriek of terror—loud, violent, - and echoing, and Ilam fled away. Carpentaria heard him mount the steps of - his house and fumble with the door, and then he heard the bang of the - door. - </p> - <p> - With all possible speed he rushed to the barrow, wheeled it into his - garden, and thence to an outhouse, of which he carefully fastened the - padlock. - </p> - <p> - He stood some time hesitant in the avenue, wondering whether any further - singular phenomenon would proceed from the Ilam house that night. His - curiosity was rewarded. A most strange procession emerged presently from - the bungalow. First came old Mrs. Ilam, dressed in a crimson - dressing-gown, a white nightcap on her head, and carrying a lamp with an - elaborate drawing-room shade. Carpentaria could see that the lamp shook in - her trembling hand. Her hands always trembled, but her head never. She - came down the steps with the deliberation of extreme old age, peering in - front of her, and she was followed, timorously, by her son. The lamp threw - a large circle of yellow light on the ground, and at intervals Mrs. Ilam - held it up high so that it illuminated the faces of mother and son. They - came into the middle of the avenue. It was now seriously raining. - </p> - <p> - “I knew it wouldn’t be there,” Ilam whispered, in an awed tone. “It isn’t - the sort of thing that stays. But I saw it—I saw the cloth and I saw - a bit of its face.” - </p> - <p> - Mrs. Ilam looked about her. - </p> - <p> - “Nonsense, Jos,” she upbraided him, fixing her eyes on him in a sort of - reproof. “It’s your imagination.” - </p> - <p> - “It isn’t,” said Josephus. “I saw it; and what’s more, it was on a bier. - That’s the worst—it was on a bier. Mother, he will haunt me all my - life!” - </p> - <p> - “Don’t talk so loud, child,” put in Mrs. Ilam. “You’d better go to bed.” - </p> - <p> - “What’s the good of going to bed?” he inquired. “What! I took him and I - buried him as safe as houses. I left him there, and I came straight back - here, except that I was stopped by a watchman at the stables, who told me - the horses seemed to be all frightened. And I had a talk to the fellow; - and I find <i>it</i> on a bier here, right in my path. And now it’s gone - again.” - </p> - <p> - “Come in,” said Mrs. Ilam. - </p> - <p> - “And why were the horses frightened? That shows——” - </p> - <p> - “Come in,” Mrs. Ilam repeated. “I’ll get you some hot milk, and you must - try to sleep.” - </p> - <p> - “Sleep!” he murmured. “Mother, you mustn’t leave me.” - </p> - <p> - And the procession re-entered the house, and the door was closed, but a - light burned upstairs through the remainder of the night. - </p> - <p> - Carpentaria himself had little sleep; he scarcely tried to sleep. He arose - at seven o’clock, and dressed and went out on to the balcony. The rain had - ceased, and the Sunday morning was exquisitely calm and sunny. The whole - scene was so bright and clear that the events of six hours ago appeared - fantastic and impossible. Yet Carpentaria knew only too well that the - unidentified corpse lay in the outhouse. He meant first to examine the - corpse himself, and then to confide in a certain official of the city whom - he knew that he could trust. What he should do after that he could not - imagine. Decidely some process of burial would be speedily imperative. - </p> - <p> - All the blinds of the Ilam bungalow were drawn. He guessed that at least - the upper ones would remain so, and he was somewhat taken aback when Mrs. - Ilam herself appeared at a window and opened it. He was still more taken - aback to see Mrs. Ilam a moment later open the door, and with much - stateliness cross the avenue to his own dwelling. He knew that she was - friendly with Juliette, and that Juliette liked her. He, too, had admired - her, but only because she was so old and so masterful, such a surprising - relic. That she should be accessory to a crime did not seem strange to - him. He esteemed her to be a woman capable of anything. He would have to - warn Juliette. - </p> - <p> - At eight o’clock a servant brought up the French breakfast with which, - under Juliette’s influence, he compromised with hunger till lunch-time; - and with the breakfast came, as usual, the cat Beppo. The breakfast - consisted of a two-handled bowl of milk and a fresh roll and a pat of - butter. Beppo seemed determined to share the breakfast without delay. - Carpentaria, as was his frequent practice, took the roll off its plate and - poured on the plate as much milk as it would hold. And Beppo, to whom milk - was the answer to the riddle of the universe, leapt on to the table and - began to lap in his gluttonous masculine way. He had taken exactly four - laps when he ceased to lap. He looked up at his master, and there was a - disturbed and pained expression in his amber eyes. This expression changed - in an instant to one of positive fright. He was evidently breathing with - difficulty, and he was rather at sea, for he groped about on the table and - put both his forepaws into the bowl, splashing the milk in all directions. - He then gave a fearful shriek; his pupils dilated horribly in spite of the - strong sunshine, and he went into convulsions. His breath came quick and - short. Finally, he fell off the table. - </p> - <p> - He was dead. - </p> - <p> - Less than three minutes previously he had been a cat full of power, of - romance, and of the joy of life, with comfortable views on most things. - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0008" id="link2HCH0008"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER VIII—Disappearance of Juliette - </h2> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">P</span>eople may read - about crimes in newspapers all their lives, and yet never properly realize - that crime exists. To appreciate what crime is, one must be brought to - close quarters with crime, as Carpentaria was. Twelve hours ago murder to - him had been nothing but a name. Now he knew the horror that murder - inspires. And with the corpse of the cat Beppo lying at his feet, he felt - that horror far more keenly even than in the night as he unearthed the - corpse of the mysterious drunken man. He had actually seen the cat done to - death, and had it not been for the greediness of Beppo, he himself would - have lain there, stretched out in eternal quiet. - </p> - <p> - He looked at the half-empty bowl of milk and at the splashes of milk on - the round painted table, reflecting that each splash was no doubt - sufficient to kill a man. - </p> - <p> - He wondered what he must do, how he must begin to disentangle himself from - the coil of danger that was surrounding him. He was not afraid. He was - probably much too excited to be afraid. He was angry, startled, grieved, - and puzzled, and nothing more. His mind turned naturally to Juliette—Juliette, - his comforter and companion. He did not like the idea of frightening her - by a recital of what had occurred, but he knew that he would be compelled - to do so. He must talk confidentially to some one who understood him and - admired him. Now, at that hour in the morning the faithful Juliette, her - dress ornamented by an extremely small and attractive French apron, was in - the habit of personally dusting the writing-table in Carpentaria’s study - adjoining the bedroom. No profane hand ever touched that table, and - Juliette’s own hand never ventured to arrange its sublime disorder. There - were three servants in the house—the parlourmaid, the cook, and a - scullery-maid. There might have been a dozen had Juliette so wished. But - Juliette was a simple person; her father, the second husband of - Carpentaria’s mother, had belonged to the plain and excellent French - bourgeoisie, who know so well how to cook and how to save money, and - Juliette had inherited his tastes. Juliette was always curbing - Carpentaria’s instinct towards magnificence. She did not want even three - servants, and there were a number of delicate tasks, such as the dusting - of Carpentaria’s table, that she would not permit them to do. - </p> - <p> - Carpentaria touched nothing on the balcony. He went into the bedroom, - fastened the window, and then hesitated. He could hear Juliette’s soft - movements in the study. Ought he, could he, go to her and say bluntly: - “Juliette, some one is trying to murder me, and you must take more care - than you took this morning—you allowed my milk to be poisoned”? - </p> - <p> - At last he opened the door of the study. - </p> - <p> - But it was not Juliette dusting the sacred table. It was Jenkins, the - parlourmaid! - </p> - <p> - Such a thing had never before happened in the united domesticity of - Carpentaria and Juliette! It was astounding. It unnerved Carpentaria. - </p> - <p> - He locked the door of the bedroom, and put the key in his pocket. - </p> - <p> - “What are you doing here?” he demanded gruffly of the parlourmaid. - </p> - <p> - “Dusting your table, sir,” replied Jenkins, in a tone that respectfully - asked to be informed whether Carpentaria was blind. - </p> - <p> - “Who told you to dust my table?” - </p> - <p> - “Mistress, sir.” - </p> - <p> - “Where is your mistress?” - </p> - <p> - “I don’t know, sir. She told me to come up and dust the room.” A pause. “I—er—really - don’t know.” - </p> - <p> - “Go and find her. Ask her to speak to me at once.” - </p> - <p> - “Yes, sir.” - </p> - <p> - “Half a minute, Jenkins. It was you who brought my milk up?” - </p> - <p> - “Yes, sir.” - </p> - <p> - “Where did you take it from?” - </p> - <p> - “Mistress gave it me with her own hands, sir.” - </p> - <p> - “And you brought it direct to me?” - </p> - <p> - “Yes, sir.” - </p> - <p> - “No one else touched it?” - </p> - <p> - “No, sir.” - </p> - <p> - “Anybody called here this morning?” - </p> - <p> - “Called, sir?” Jenkins seemed ruffled. - </p> - <p> - “Yes. Anybody been to the house?” - </p> - <p> - “No, sir,” said Jenkins, as though in asking if anybody had called - Carpentaria was reflecting upon her moral character. And she blushed. - </p> - <p> - “Very well. Go and find your mistress.” - </p> - <p> - Jenkins departed, and came back in a surprisingly short space of time. - </p> - <p> - “Mistress doesn’t seem to be about, sir,” said Jenkins. - </p> - <p> - “What? She hasn’t gone out, has she?” - </p> - <p> - “Not that I know of, sir. But I can’t find her.” - </p> - <p> - “Have you looked in her bedroom?” - </p> - <p> - “I knocked at the door, sir.” - </p> - <p> - “And there was no answer?” - </p> - <p> - “No, sir.” - </p> - <p> - “When did you last see your mistress?” - </p> - <p> - “When she told me to dust this room, sir, after I had brought up your - milk.” - </p> - <p> - “Where was she?” - </p> - <p> - “In the dining-room, sir.” - </p> - <p> - A fearful thought ran through the mind of Carpentaria, cutting it like a - lancet. Suppose that Juliette had been poisoned! Suppose that an attempt - had been made against her, as against him, but with more success! He - hurried out of the room and knocked loudly at her bedroom-door. - </p> - <p> - “Juliette! Are you there?” - </p> - <p> - No answer. - </p> - <p> - “Juliette, I say!” - </p> - <p> - Again no answer. His heart almost stopped. He opened the door and entered - the room. It was empty, but already the bed had been made and everything - tidied. He penetrated to the dressing-room, which was equally neat and - equally empty. - </p> - <p> - Then he searched the house and the premises; he searched everywhere except - in the little outhouse wherein was hidden the corpse of the drunken man. - At length, after a futile cross-examination of the cook in the kitchen, he - perceived that the scullery-maid, in the scullery was surreptitiously - beckoning to him. - </p> - <p> - This ungainly chit, Polly, whose person was only kept presentable by the - ceaseless efforts of Juliette, had red hair, rather less red than - Carpentaria’s, and she worshipped him afar off. She had that “cult” for - him which very humble servants do sometimes entertain for masters who - never even throw them a glance. And now she was beckoning to him and - making eyes! - </p> - <p> - He followed her through the scullery into the yard. - </p> - <p> - “Do you want mistress, sir?” asked Polly in a whisper. - </p> - <p> - “Yes.” - </p> - <p> - “Well, she’s over the wye, sir.” - </p> - <p> - “Over the way?” - </p> - <p> - “Yes, sir, at Mr. Ilam’s. Mrs. Ilam’s been here this morning, sir. Don’t - tell mistress as I told you, sir, for the love of heving!” - </p> - <p> - Juliette was at Ilam’s! And he had twice found Juliette in the avenue - during the night! And she had been strangely excited when she came to kiss - him before going to bed. - </p> - <p> - In something less than fifteen seconds he was rattling loudly at Ilam’s - door. He received no answer. He heard no sound within the house. Wondering - where the servants could be, he assaulted the door again, this time - furiously. A man who was rolling a lawn in the Oriental Gardens glanced up - at him. Still there was no reply. He was just deciding to break into the - house by way of a window, when the door opened very suddenly, and as he - was leaning upon it, he pitched forward into the hall and into the arms of - old Mrs. Ilam, who, with her white cap, her black dress and her parchment - face, seemed aggrieved by this entrance. - </p> - <p> - “Mr. Carpentaria!” she protested, raising her shaking hands. - </p> - <p> - But she was admirably and overpoweringly calm, and her extreme age - prevented Carpentaria from taking the measures which he would have taken - had she been younger, less imposing, less august, less like a dead woman - who walked. - </p> - <p> - “My sister is here, and I must see her at once.” - </p> - <p> - “No, Mr. Carpentaria; your sister is not here.” Her tone startled him. It - was so cold and positive. But after a few seconds he thought she was - lying. - </p> - <p> - “She has been here, then?” - </p> - <p> - “No, Mr. Carpentaria. She has not been here.” - </p> - <p> - “Really! But you have seen her this morning. You came to my house.” - </p> - <p> - “No———” - </p> - <p> - “Excuse me, Mrs. Ilam, I saw you from my——” - </p> - <p> - “Ah!—from your balcony? You saw me cross the avenue, but you did not - see me enter your house. You could not have seen that from your balcony, - even if I had entered; and, as it happens, I didn’t enter.” - </p> - <p> - “My servants say you came.” - </p> - <p> - “Your servants probably say a good many things, Mr. Carpentaria,” she - smiled humorously. - </p> - <p> - The musician felt himself against a stone wall. “Can I see your son?” he - asked at length of the imperturbable old woman. - </p> - <p> - “My son is in bed and far from well,” said Mrs. Ilam. - </p> - <p> - “Then I should like to talk to you instead,” said Carpentaria. - </p> - <p> - She seemed to burst into welcome. - </p> - <p> - “Come in, then, my dear man, do! Come in!” And she preceded him into the - drawing-room, an apartment furnished in the richest Tottenham Court Road - splendour. They sat down on either side of the hearth, where a fire was - burning. He did not know exactly how to begin. - </p> - <p> - “Now, Mr. Carpentaria,” she encouraged him. - </p> - <p> - “Some very strange things have been happening, Mrs. Ilam,” said he. - </p> - <p> - He deemed that he might as well go directly to the point. He would come to - Juliette afterwards. So long as Juliette was not in Ilam’s house she was - probably in no immediate danger. - </p> - <p> - “To you?” asked the dame. - </p> - <p> - “To me. I saw some very strange things with my own eyes last night, and - within the last twelve Lours there have been two attempts to murder me.” - </p> - <p> - A slight flush reddened the wrinkled yellow cheek of Mrs. Ilam. It seemed - as though she tried to speak and could not. Her fingers worked - convulsively. - </p> - <p> - “You, too?” he murmured, with apparent difficulty. - </p> - <p> - “Why do you say ‘you, too’?” Carpentaria demanded. - </p> - <p> - She paused again. - </p> - <p> - “It was the milk?” she seemed to stammer. - </p> - <p> - “Yes, the second attempt; it was the milk,” admitted Carpentaria. - </p> - <p> - She hid her face. - </p> - <p> - “The same attempt has been made against Josephus,” she said. “And he was - so frightened it has made him ill. That is why he is not feeling very well - this morning.” - </p> - <p> - “But does Mr. Ilam take milk for breakfast? I thought he always had ham - and eggs?” - </p> - <p> - “Never!” said Mrs. Ilam. “Hot bread-and-milk. Nothing else.” - </p> - <p> - “And how did he find out that the milk was poisoned?” Carpentaria pursued. - </p> - <p> - “I—I don’t know,” said Mrs. Ilam. “But he did. He’s very particular - about his food, is Jos. And he suspected something. So he tried it on - Neptune, the Newfoundland. And Neptune is dead. He says he thinks it must - be prussic acid. Oh, Mr. Carpentaria, what is this plot against us all? - What are we to do?” - </p> - <p> - Carpentaria was reduced to muteness. The old lady had changed the trend of - his thoughts. He had been secretly accusing Ilam, but if Ilam’s life also - had been attempted, the case was very much altered. It was perhaps even - more perilous. Still, Mrs. Ilam had done nothing to explain the - extraordinary events of the night. He decided to be cautious. - </p> - <p> - “I happened to see lights in your house very late last night, or rather, - early this morning,” he said. “I was afraid that either you or Mr. Ilam - might be ill.” - </p> - <p> - His eyes sought hers and met them fully and squarely. - </p> - <p> - “Oh!” she exclaimed sadly. “Jos had a dreadful night. He does have them - sometimes, you know. Bad dreams. In many ways he is just like a child. - There are nights when I think his dreams are more real to him than his - real life. Now, last night he dreamed there was a corpse lying on a bier - in the avenue, and nothing would satisfy him but that I should come out - with him to see. Fancy it! at my age! However, there was nothing—of - course.” - </p> - <p> - Carpentaria said to himself that the old lady evidently was unaware of her - son’s midnight escapade, and that he could get no further with her. The - hope sprang up within him that Polly had been after all mistaken. Juliette - might have gone out merely for a stroll and have returned ere then. He - rose to take leave of Mrs. Ilam. - </p> - <p> - “What are you going to do?” she asked him. - </p> - <p> - “What about?” - </p> - <p> - “Well, my dear man, about this attempted poisoning.” - </p> - <p> - “I suppose we must inform the police,” he replied. - </p> - <p> - “Yes, I suppose so,” she agreed. “But perhaps it would be well to wait - until you had had a talk with Jos. He’ll be getting up during the day.” - </p> - <p> - “We’ll see,” said Carpentaria. - </p> - <p> - “It’s a good thing it’s Sunday and we’re free, isn’t it?” she remarked. - </p> - <p> - He had got precisely as far as the drawing-room door, when a voice reached - his ears from the upper story. “Mrs. Ilam! Mrs. Ilam! He’s eaten his ham - and eggs. What about the marmalade?” - </p> - <p> - Carpentaria dashed into the hall and looked up the stairs, and he saw the - head of Juliette over the banisters. - </p> - <p> - Behind him he heard a suppressed sigh from Mrs. Ilam. - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0009" id="link2HCH0009"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER IX—The Dead Dog - </h2> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">C</span>arpentaria ran up - the stairs. If he had not had flame-coloured hair, and the fiery temper - that goes with it, he would probably have pursued the more dignified - course of calling Juliette down and interrogating her in privacy. But he - was Carpentaria. She knew his moods, and she fled before him into a - sitting-room, where Ilam, a dressing-gown covering his suit of Sunday - black, reclined in an easy-chair by the side of a small table bearing an - empty plate and a knife and fork. - </p> - <p> - She cowered down on the floor. - </p> - <p> - “Oh, Carlos!” she exclaimed under her breath. - </p> - <p> - Carpentaria made the obvious demand: - </p> - <p> - “What are you doing in this house, Juliette?” - </p> - <p> - There was a silence. - </p> - <p> - “Look here, Carpentaria,” Ilam began, rising a little in a chair. - </p> - <p> - “Silence!” cried Carpentaria angrily and threateningly. - </p> - <p> - And at the noise the great dog Neptune, pride of the Ilams, emerged from - behind the chair and growled. - </p> - <p> - Juliette said at last: - </p> - <p> - “Mrs. Ilam told me that Jos—that Mr. Ilam was unwell, and so I—I - came to see how he was. That’s all.” - </p> - <p> - “Really!” said Carpentaria. “Is that all? Your philanthropic interest in - the sick and suffering, my girl, does you great credit. But as the invalid - seems to be doing fairly well you’d better come home with me. I want to - talk to you.” - </p> - <p> - Juliette gave a look of appeal to Ilam. - </p> - <p> - “I must tell him,” she whispered. “I must tell Carlos. Why did you want me - to keep it a secret? Carlos, Mr. Ilam and I are engaged to be married. We - love each other. We only want your consent, and Jos was afraid you - mightn’t give it. He was afraid. We’ve been engaged three days now, - haven’t we, Jos?” - </p> - <p> - “My consent!” Carpentaria shouted bitterly. “My consent!” His wrath was - dreadful, and yet to a certain extent he was controlling himself. “I - suppose,” he addressed Juliette, “it’s your love for this estimable - gentleman that leads you out into the gardens of a night, and I suppose - you take beautiful romantic moonlight strolls together. My consent! Ye - gods!” - </p> - <p> - The dog continued to growl. - </p> - <p> - Juliette gathered herself together, and moved to Ilam’s chair, and Ilam - took her hand protectively. - </p> - <p> - “My poor dear! Never mind!” murmured Ilam soothingly. - </p> - <p> - Genuine affection spoke in those tones uttered by the stout and otherwise - grotesque Mr. Ilam. Love itself unmistakably appeared in the attitude of - the pair as they clasped hands in front of Carpentaria’s fury. And - Carpentaria could not but be struck by what he saw. It sobered him, - puzzled him, diverted his thoughts. - </p> - <p> - “Come, Juliette,” he said in a quieter, more persuasive tone. - </p> - <p> - He turned to leave the room, and Juliette obediently followed. Allowing - her to pass before him, he stopped an instant and threw a glance at Ilam. - </p> - <p> - “So they’ve been trying to poison you, Ilam.” - </p> - <p> - “Poison me!” repeated Ilam, plainly at a loss. - </p> - <p> - “Yes,” said Carpentaria with a sneer. “And you never have ham and eggs for - breakfast. That’s the reason why that plate is streaked with yellow. You - always have milk. Naturally, you eat it with a knife and fork. And you - suspected the milk and gave some of it to Neptune, and he fell down dead. - He looks dead, doesn’t he?” - </p> - <p> - “I don’t know what you mean,” Ilam said. - </p> - <p> - “You must ask mamma,” replied Carpentaria, departing. - </p> - <p> - He saw now with the utmost clearness that the aged Mrs. Ilam had been - indulging him with some impromptu lying, invented, and clumsily invented, - to put him off the scent, were it only for a few hours. - </p> - <p> - “She may be clumsy in her lying,” he thought as he descended the stairs in - Juliette’s wake, “but she can act, the old woman can!” - </p> - <p> - He remembered that her acting had been perfect, and if Juliette had not - happened to disclose the fact of her presence, the lying of Mrs. Ilam, - clumsy as it was, might have succeeded. It is so easy to poison a dog, and - to arrange the remains of poisoned milk. - </p> - <p> - He was capable of congratulating her on her acting, but she had utterly - vanished from the ground-floor. - </p> - <p> - When he had deposited Juliette safely in his study, she began to cry - softly. It was impossible for him to maintain his anger against her. - </p> - <p> - “Juliette,” he said, “why do you have secrets from me?” - </p> - <p> - “Oh, Carlos, he wished it to be kept secret. He said he had reasons; and I - love him. No one has ever loved me before, and I’m thirty.” - </p> - <p> - “What about my affection?” asked Carpentaria. - </p> - <p> - “Oh, that’s different!” she cried. - </p> - <p> - Then he questioned her about Mrs. Ilam. - </p> - <p> - “I was at the kitchen window, preparing your milk, and the window was - open, and Mrs. Ilam came up outside, and told me that Jos was unwell, and - wanted to see me.” - </p> - <p> - “Did she touch the milk?” - </p> - <p> - “Touch the milk? No; why should she touch the milk?” - </p> - <p> - “Could she reach to touch the milk, supposing she had wished to?” - </p> - <p> - “I dare say she could. Yes, she could. But why?” - </p> - <p> - “Could you swear absolutely she didn’t?” - </p> - <p> - “I couldn’t swear; but I’m nearly sure. Carlos, what do you mean?” - </p> - <p> - “I’ll show you what I mean!” said Carpentaria. - </p> - <p> - He unlocked the bedroom door and led her to the balcony. - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0010" id="link2HCH0010"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER X—A Pinch of Snuff - </h2> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">T</span>hree hours later - Carpentaria, whose thoughts had been bent upon some solution of the - problem set by Juliette’s strange and incomprehensible love affair with - Josephus Ilam, was obliged to devote his brains to other and not less - disturbing matters. He received in his study, for the second time that - day, young Rivers, the newly-admitted doctor who had been officially - attached to the City of Pleasure. A medical cabinet and a pharmacy had - been judged quite indispensable to the smooth running of the City, and the - foresight which had provided them was entirely justified by the numerous - small accidents, faintings, and indispositions that marked the opening - day, when more than three hundred persons had patronized the pharmacy, and - more than twenty had received the attentions of the ardent young doctor. - </p> - <p> - Carpentaria had first met young Rivers when this youth was walking Bart’s, - and the accession of Rivers to the brilliant and brilliantly remunerated - position of physician and surgeon-in-ordinary to the City of Pleasure was - due to Carpentaria’s influence. Rivers was grateful, very grateful. - Moreover, he liked Carpentaria, thought him, in fact, the most wonderful - man, except Lord Lister, that he had ever met. - </p> - <p> - “Well,” said the fair youth of twenty-five, when Carpentaria had shut the - study-door, “I’ve made the analysis. It comes out to just about what I - expected.” - </p> - <p> - “Prussic acid?” - </p> - <p> - “Not exactly prussic acid. A soluble cyanide—cyanide of potassium. - Have you by any chance got a photographic bureau concealed somewhere in - the show?” - </p> - <p> - “Why, of course,” said Carpentaria. “Didn’t you know? It’s next door to - the lecture-hall.” - </p> - <p> - “Then the cyanide of potassium was probably got from there. It’s used by - photographers. Better make inquiries.” - </p> - <p> - “We will,” Carpentaria agreed. “And do you mean to say cyanide of - potassium will kill like that? How much prussic acid does it contain?” - </p> - <p> - “Scarcely any. Not two per cent.—not one per cent.” - </p> - <p> - “And poor Beppo was dead in a minute.” - </p> - <p> - “My dear Mr. Carpentaria,” said Rivers excitedly. “The strongest solution - of prussic acid known to commerce only contains four per cent, of pure - acid. And in the anhydrous state——” - </p> - <p> - “Anhydrous?” - </p> - <p> - “That means without water. In the anhydrous state,” Rivers proceeded - enthusiastically, “two grains will kill a man in a second of time. Like - that! It’s an amazing poison!” - </p> - <p> - Carpentaria shuddered. - </p> - <p> - “By the way,” he said, as if casually, “I’ve got a corpse I want you to - look at.” - </p> - <p> - “A corpse?” - </p> - <p> - “Keep calm, my young friend,” Carpentaria enjoined him. And he told him - the history of the drunken man. “Naturally all this is strictly - confidential,” he concluded. - </p> - <p> - “I should think so,” said Rivers, aghast. “Can you not see that you have - got yourself into a dreadful mess? You are an accessory after the fact. - You have been guilty of a gross illegality. I don’t know what the penalty - is; I’m not very well up in medical jurisprudence; but I know it’s - something pretty stiff. Why, you might be accused of the murder.” - </p> - <p> - “Yes, I am aware of all that,” answered Carpentaria. “But I was very - curious; and I didn’t want any police meddling here.” - </p> - <p> - “You are going just the way to bring them here.” - </p> - <p> - “Not at all. When you have made your examination I shall simply put the - body where I found it. No one will be the wiser.” - </p> - <p> - “And theft?” - </p> - <p> - “Then—we shall see. It will depend on your examination.” - </p> - <p> - “But, really, Mr. Carpentaria, I cannot lend myself——-” - </p> - <p> - “Not to oblige me?” - </p> - <p> - Carpentaria smiled an engaging smile, and they descended together to the - outhouse. - </p> - <p> - The outhouse was not more than eleven feet square, and the barrow with its - burden was stretched across it diagonally, so that when the two men were - inside, the place was full and the door would scarcely close. A small - window gave light. - </p> - <p> - Rivers gently pulled the black cloth aside. - </p> - <p> - “This is just such black cloth as photographers use,” he remarked. - </p> - <p> - “So it is,” said Carpentaria. - </p> - <p> - The eyes of the corpse were closed; he might have been a man asleep, this - strange relic from which a soul had flown and which would soon resolve - itself into its original dust. - </p> - <p> - “Poor fellow,” thought Carpentaria. “Once he lived, and had interests, and - probably passions, and thought himself of some importance in the - universe.” - </p> - <p> - The spectacle saddened Carpentaria, whereas the young doctor was not at - all saddened, he was merely intensely interested. - </p> - <p> - “A blow on the head among other things,” he observed, indicating to - Carpentaria the top of the skull which showed an abrasion together with an - extravasation of blood, now clotted. - </p> - <p> - “Would that do it?” queried Carpentaria. - </p> - <p> - “Don’t know. Might. By Jove, the rigor is extraordinarily acute.” - </p> - <p> - “Rigor?” - </p> - <h3> - 7.8 - </h3> - <p> - “The stiffness that follows death. Great Scott!” - </p> - <p> - The doctor assumed an upright position, and stared, first at the corpse - and then at Carpentaria. - </p> - <p> - “Great Scott!” he repeated. - </p> - <p> - “What’s up?” - </p> - <p> - The doctor made no reply, but tried to lift the left arm of the body. He - could not, without raising the entire body. - </p> - <p> - “This is most interesting,” he said. - </p> - <p> - “What is?” - </p> - <p> - Again Rivers did not answer. Instead, he took his watch from his pocket, - and put it suddenly against the ear of the corpse. - </p> - <p> - The corpse twitched; its head moved slightly; the eyelid lifted the eighth - of an inch. - </p> - <p> - “See that? You’re lucky! And so’s he!” said the doctor. “It’s catalepsy! - that’s all—A sudden slight noise at the ear itself will often - produce a change of position in catalepsy.” - </p> - <p> - “Then he’s not dead!” exclaimed Carpentaria. - </p> - <p> - “Dead? He’s no more dead than you are! It’s just catalepsy, induced - probably by that blow. But he must have been very excited previously, and, - no doubt, suffering from melancholia too. My dear Mr. Carpentaria, there - is only one absolutely reliable symptom of death, and that is—putrefaction. - Death is imitated by various diseases. But there are not many that will - imitate the coldness of death as catalepsy will. Feel that hand; it’s like - ice.” - </p> - <p> - “And how long will he remain in this condition?” asked Carpentaria, full - of joy and relief. - </p> - <p> - “Till you go and bring me some snuff. Snuff is the best thing in these - cases.” - </p> - <p> - “And he’ll be perfectly well again?” - </p> - <p> - “Yes, in a day or two.” - </p> - <p> - “He’ll remember—things?” - </p> - <p> - “Of course he will! Shall I go for that snuff, or will you?” - </p> - <p> - “I will run,” said Carpentaria, and he ran. - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0011" id="link2HCH0011"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER XI—The Return to Life - </h2> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">I</span>t was half-past - seven o’clock on Monday evening. More than thirty hours had elapsed since - young Rivers first began his operations to restore life to the cataleptic - patient, and he was only just succeeding in an affair which had proved - extremely difficult and protracted. Young Rivers, in fact, had found out - during the watches of Sunday night and the sunny morning of Monday that - the disease (if catalepsy may be called a disease) has a habit of flatly - defying the rules of medical text-books and the experience of even the - youngest doctors. But ultimately he had triumphed, though not by means of - the famous snuff, which Carpentaria had obtained, after exhaustive - research, from a bass-fiddle player in his band. - </p> - <p> - The patient reclined, alive, conscious, capable of movement and speech, - but otherwise a prodigious enigma, in an arm-chair in Carpentaria’s - bedroom. His existence was a profound secret from all except the doctor - and the musician. - </p> - <p> - And now these two, who had brought him back to earthly life, wanted him to - talk, to explain himself, to unravel the mysteries of Saturday afternoon - and Saturday night. And Carpentaria, dressed in his uniform, waited, watch - in hand; for in half an hour the daily concert must commence in the - Oriental Gardens. Nothing could interfere with Carpentaria’s presence in - the gorgeous illuminated bandstand. He had sacrificed his interest in his - half-sister, his curiosity about the doings of the Ilams, his inspection - of the affairs of the City, and even a rehearsal, to the care of the - recovering cataleptic, but the concert itself, with its audience of a - hundred thousand or so, could not be sacrificed. - </p> - <p> - “So you are Carpentaria?” murmured the patient, sipping at a glass of hot - milk. - </p> - <p> - His age now appeared to be fifty. He had grey hair and a short grey beard, - rather whiter than the hair, and his eyes bore the expression of a man who - has found that life bears no striking resemblance to a good joke. His - hands moved nervously over the surfaces of the chair. - </p> - <p> - “Yes,” Carpentaria admitted; “and you?” - </p> - <p> - It was the first direct question that he had ventured to put to the - enigma, and the enigma ignored it. - </p> - <p> - “You say I was buried and you unburied me?” he pursued. - </p> - <p> - “Yes,” said Carpentaria enthusiastically, and he described the journeys, - the disappearances and the reappearances, of the body of the enigma on the - opening night. - </p> - <p> - “I suppose I should have died really, if I’d been left alone?” the enigma - demanded of Rivers. - </p> - <p> - “Undoubtedly,” said Rivers. “Undoubtedly,” he repeated. - </p> - <p> - The enigma turned almost fiercely on Carpentaria. - </p> - <p> - “Then why, in the name of common sense, couldn’t you have left me alone?” - he cried. - </p> - <p> - It was as though he owed Carpentaria a grudge which the most cruel - ingenuity could not satisfy. - </p> - <p> - “I—I thought——” Carpentaria stammered, too surprised to - be able to argue well. - </p> - <p> - “You thought you were doing a mighty clever thing,” snapped the enigma. - </p> - <p> - “I merely——” - </p> - <p> - “Or, rather,” the enigma proceeded, “you didn’t think at all.” - </p> - <p> - Rivers and Carpentaria exchanged a glance, indicating to each other that - the man was an invalid and must therefore be humoured. - </p> - <p> - “Really, Mr.——-” Carpentaria began. - </p> - <p> - “Call me Jetsam,” the invalid interrupted. “It isn’t my name, but it’s - near enough.” - </p> - <p> - “Well, Mr. Jetsam——” - </p> - <p> - “Not at all,” said Mr. Jetsam, sitting up in the chair. “There I was, - comfortably dead, blind and deaf for evermore to the stupidities, the - shams, the crimes, and the tedium of this world, and you go and - deliberately recreate me! Is your opinion of the earth, and particularly - of England, so high that you imagine a man is better on it than off it? - Have you reached your present position and your present age, without - coming to the conclusion that a person once comfortably dead would never - want to be alive again? It seems to me, that you took upon yourselves the - responsibility, the terrible responsibility of putting me back into life - without giving the matter a moment’s serious thought. And I do verily - believe that you expected me to be grateful! Grateful!” - </p> - <p> - “It was a question of duty——” Carpentaria ventured. - </p> - <p> - “Yes, of course. It only remained for you to drag in that word; I - anticipated it. And why was it your duty? Who told you it was your duty? - What authority have you for saying it was your duty? None—absolutely - none! The sole explanation of your conduct is that, like most human - beings, you are an interfering busybody; you can’t leave a thing alone.” - </p> - <p> - At length Carpentaria laughed. He was conscious of a certain liking for - Mr. Jetsam. - </p> - <p> - “I can but offer you my humble apologies,” he said. “They are of no avail; - they will not undo what is done. But none the less I offer them to you. - You see, when I last saw you alive, you were so drunk, so very drunk——” - </p> - <p> - “I was not drunk at all,” said Mr. Jetsam. “And your inability to perceive - the fact proves that, though you may be able to wear a very stylish - uniform and to make a great deal of noise with a band, you are an infant - as a detective. No, sir, I had certain plans to execute, and you, with - that meddlesomeness that appears to characterize you, came along and - interfered. In order that I might be left alone I pretended to be drunk. I - have never been drunk in my life, which is conceivably more than you can - say for yourself, or you, sir”—and he pointed to the young doctor, - who had only recently finished being a medical student. - </p> - <p> - “And those plans—may one inquire?” Carpentaria murmured. - </p> - <p> - Mr. Jetsam covered his face with his hands. - </p> - <p> - “Ah!” he sighed, evidently speaking to himself. “I had done with all that, - and now I must begin again. My instincts will inevitably drive me to begin - again. My dear people”—he surveyed his two companions with an acid - and distant stare—“instead of saving life, you have only set in - motion a chain of circumstances that will lead to the loss of it. Murder - and the scaffold will probably be the net result of your officious zeal.” - </p> - <p> - There was a rap on the bedroom door. - </p> - <p> - “Five minutes to eight, sir,” called a voice. - </p> - <p> - “Right,” said Carpentaria, getting up; and to Mr. Jetsam, “I will see you - after the concert.” - </p> - <p> - “I doubt it,” said Mr. Jetsam. - </p> - <p> - “Why not?” - </p> - <p> - “Because I shall be gone. I am feeling quite strong.” - </p> - <h3> - 35 - </h3> - <p> - “I should like to talk to you about certain people,” pursued Carpentaria. - </p> - <p> - “Who?” - </p> - <p> - “Well, Josephus Ilam.” - </p> - <p> - “I know all about Josephus Ilam.” - </p> - <p> - “And his mother. Perhaps you don’t know all about his mother.” - </p> - <p> - Mr. Jetsam jumped to his feet with singular agility. - </p> - <p> - “Mrs. Ilam! She’s been dead for years,” he said gravely. - </p> - <p> - “She was very much alive this morning,” replied Carpentaria. - </p> - <p> - “He told me she was dead,” Jetsam muttered. - </p> - <p> - “He lied. She is in the bungalow opposite.” - </p> - <p> - “Oh!” Jetsam breathed, and he seemed to breathe the breath out of his - body. He swayed and fell back into the chair. - </p> - <p> - “By Jove! He’s fainted!” exclaimed Rivers. - </p> - <p> - “Look after him,” said Carpentaria, and flew downstairs and towards his - bandstand. - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0012" id="link2HCH0012"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER XII—On the Wheel - </h2> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">T</span>he concert was - over. If it had been as great a triumph as usual—and it had—the - reasons were perhaps that nothing succeeds like success, and that the - Carpentaria band was so imbued with the spirit of Carpentaria that it - would have played in the Carpentaria manner even had the shade of - Beethoven come down to conduct it. Certainly Carpentaria’s performances - with the baton, though wild and bizarre, lacked that sincerity and that - amazing invention which usually distinguished them. He had too much to - think about. There was the possibility of getting shot as he stood there. - There was the possibility of being poisoned at his next meal. There was - the possibility of some fearful complication with Juliette and Ilam. There - was the positive mystery of Ilam himself. There was the comparative - mystery of Ilam’s mother. And there was the superlative mystery of Mr. - Jetsam. Under these circumstances, with all these pre-occupations, the - plaudits of a hundred thousand people did not particularly interest - Carpentaria that night. His chief desire was to get back to Mr. Jetsam, - and to extract Mr. Jetsam’s secrets out of Mr. Jetsam either by force, by - fraud, or by persuasion. As he was bowing languidly for the nineteenth - time, and the entire orchestra was bowing behind him, amid a hurricane of - clapping, he thought to himself: - </p> - <p> - “It’s a good thing I’m not in love! It would only need that, in addition - to what I already have on my hands, to drive me crazy!” - </p> - <p> - As a fact, he had never been in love. Art, particularly as expressed by - brass instruments, was his mistress. - </p> - <p> - He turned to descend the steps from the bandstand, when he perceived a - tall African standing at attention at the bottom of the steps. - </p> - <p> - “What do you want?” he asked the African. - </p> - <p> - The man smiled the placid and infantile smile of his race, and handed a - note to Carpentaria. - </p> - <p> - “You from the Soudanese village?” - </p> - <p> - “Yes, sah.” - </p> - <p> - The inhabitant of the Soudanese village, which was one of the attractions - of the hippodrome, stood about six feet four inches high, and he was in - native costume, which consisted largely, but not exclusively, of beads and - polish. To gaze, dazzled, at the polish on that man’s face, shoulders, - chest, and calves, one would guess that the whole tribe must sit up at - nights bringing his polish to such a unique pitch of perfection. In his - cheek you could see yourself as in a mirror, and he had the air of being - personally well satisfied with the splendour of his mahogany skin. - </p> - <p> - Carpentaria opened the note. It read: - </p> - <p> - “Please come to me at once.—Ilam.” - </p> - <p> - Should he go? Or should he refuse this strange invitation, and hasten at - once to Mr. Jetsam and the doctor? - </p> - <p> - “Where is Mr. Ilam?” he demanded of the Soudanese. - </p> - <p> - The Soudanese merely increased his smile, and pointed vaguely in the - direction of the Amusement Park. - </p> - <p> - “Over there?” - </p> - <p> - “Yes, sah.” - </p> - <p> - “But where, man?” - </p> - <p> - “Yes, sah!” He lifted an arm and pointed. - </p> - <p> - The upper part of the illuminated rim of the giant wheel, a hundred feet - higher than any other wheel in the world, could be seen over the roofs of - the lofty white buildings in the Central Way. At this moment a rushing, - roaring noise was heard to the east, and simultaneously the lights of the - giant wheel were extinguished. Carpentaria glanced round. A rocket burst - with a faint reverberation in the sky, a little colony of crimson stars - floated for a few seconds amid the clouds—some stars had the shape - of the letter I and others of the letter C—and then they expired, - and the sky was black again. Cheers greeted the ingenious signal for the - commencement of the first pyrotechnic display of the City of Pleasure, and - a small crowd, which was beginning to form in the neighbourhood of the - Soudanese, frittered itself suddenly away in a rush towards the - Embankment. The fireworks were discharged from a plot of ground on the - other side of the river—a plot specially leased for that sole - purpose. - </p> - <p> - “I’ll come with you,” said Carpentaria to the Soudanese. He had decided - that an interview with Ilam could not do any harm, and there was always - the chance that it might in some way prove decisive. As for Mr. Jetsam, he - would deal with Mr. Jetsam later. Possibly Ilam might have determined to - make a general confession to him. - </p> - <p> - And he had his revolver. - </p> - <p> - The Soudanese walked quickly, and he was several inches taller than - Carpentaria. In something less than five minutes they had arrived at the - entrance to the Amusements Park, which was closing for the night. - </p> - <p> - “Where is Mr. Ilam?” Carpentaria asked again. - </p> - <p> - The Soudanese smiled. - </p> - <p> - They stood at the foot of the giant wheel, all of whose sixty cars were in - darkness save one, and this car was at the bottom, and its door was open. - Near the door stood a single official in the uniform of the City. - </p> - <p> - Carpentaria began to be puzzled. - </p> - <p> - “Mr. Ilam at the top?” he asked the official. - </p> - <p> - “I think so, sir,” said the official, after hesitating. - </p> - <p> - Carpentaria went into the car. The Soudanese shut the sliding door, - remaining himself outside. The official blew a whistle, and the giant - wheel began slowly to revolve with a terrific vibration and straining of - chains and rods. The car was designed to hold sixty people—when the - giant wheel was in full work it earned a hundred and eighty pounds per - revolution—and Carpentaria felt lonely in it. “Is this some trap?” - his thoughts ran; and he said to himself that he didn’t care whether it - was a trap or not. As the car rose in the sky he had a superb view of the - fireworks, which were now in full career—an immense and glittering - tapestry of changing coloured flame, reflected hue for hue and tint for - tint on the calm surface of the Thames beneath. And high above the - pyrotechnics lightning was beginning to play. The day had been hot, even - close, and it had been a pleasing surprise to the money-takers of the City - that rain had not fallen. - </p> - <p> - At last the wheel shuddered, shook, and stopped. The car was at the - summit, three hundred and forty feet above the level of the earth. A - figure appeared on the flying platform outside the car. The door was - opened, and Ilam entered. - </p> - <p> - “What’s the meaning of this?” Carpentaria demanded of him, standing up - suddenly, and instinctively feeling the handle of his revolver with his - right hand. - </p> - <p> - “It means that I wish to talk to you in private,” answered Ham, - emphasizing the last two words; “and there seems to me to be no place - particularly private down below now,” he added. - </p> - <p> - “What do you infer?” - </p> - <p> - “Perhaps I don’t quite know what I infer,” said Ilam. “All I can tell you - is that this City has been getting rather peculiar this last day or two.” - </p> - <p> - “It has,” Carpentaria agreed pointedly. - </p> - <p> - “And as you went to the trouble of taking me up in that thing”—he - indicated overhead, where the captive balloon was darting a searchlight to - and fro across the expanse of the grounds—“I thought I’d go to the - trouble of bringing you up here. It’s safer.” - </p> - <p> - Carpentaria noticed how pale the man was, how changed his visage, and how - nervous his demeanour. - </p> - <p> - “I hope it is,” said Carpentaria. “What do you want?” - </p> - <p> - “Let’s sit down,” replied Ilam, clearing his throat, and they sat down on - opposite sides of the car. “I’ll explain what I want in three words. How - much will you take to clear out? I’m a plain man—how much will you - take to clear out?” - </p> - <p> - “Clear out of the City? I won’t take anything,” said Carpentaria. “All the - gold of all the Rockefellers won’t clear me out. I’ve got the largest - audience for my band that any bandmaster ever had, and I like it. It’s - worth more than money to——” - </p> - <p> - “Is it worth more than life to you?” asked the heavy President, gloomily. - </p> - <p> - “No; but I reckon I can keep my life and my audience, too,” said - Carpentaria. “At any rate, you’ve tried to have my life twice and failed, - and that hasn’t frightened me. I’m less frightened than you are, even.” - </p> - <p> - “I’ve not tried to kill you,” said Ilam. - </p> - <p> - “You’ve tried to shoot me and to poison me. Why, I cannot imagine.” - </p> - <p> - “I’ve not,” repeated Ilam.’ - </p> - <p> - And, in spite of himself, Carpentaria was impressed by the apparent - truthfulness of Ilam’s tone. - </p> - <p> - “Then who has?” - </p> - <p> - “I’ve no idea,” said Ilam lamely. “I don’t know what you mean, what you - are referring to. But I’ll give you fifty thousand a year for ten years to - go—to go.” - </p> - <p> - “No,” said Carpentaria. “I’m here. I stay.” - </p> - <p> - “Then, you’ll take the consequences.” - </p> - <p> - “I always take the consequences. But what consequences, my friend?” - </p> - <p> - “Well,” Ilam coughed, “you say there have been attempts on your life. - Suppose they are continued? What then? I should like to save you. And - perhaps I can only save you by persuading you to vanish.” - </p> - <p> - “Awfully good of you,” Carpentaria sneered. “But I assure you that these - attempts on my life interest me enormously. I wouldn’t miss them for a - fortune. I’m beginning rather to like them. One gets used to an atmosphere - of mystery. No, Mr. President, I shall not go; but Juliette will go. I - shall send Juliette away to-morrow.” - </p> - <p> - Ilam bit his lip. - </p> - <p> - “That remains to be seen,” said he. “She likes me. I should make her a - good husband. Why do you object to me?” - </p> - <p> - “Why do you court her in the dark? Why do you force her to have secrets - from me?” - </p> - <p> - “That’s neither here nor there,” said Ilam. “I should make her a good - husband.” - </p> - <p> - “But what sort of a mother-in-law would she have if she married you?” - demanded Carpentaria. - </p> - <p> - Ilam made no reply. - </p> - <p> - “And,” continued Carpentaria, “I don’t think it’s a good thing for a woman - to have a husband who is always seeing ghosts.” - </p> - <p> - “Seeing ghosts?” - </p> - <p> - “Don’t you see ghosts?” sneered Carpentaria. “N—no.” - </p> - <p> - “Come down with me, and I’ll show you one, then,” said the bandmaster. - </p> - <p> - He had conceived the idea of confronting Ilam with Mr. Jetsam. - </p> - <p> - The shifting searchlight from the balloon fell dazzlingly across the car, - and through the window Carpentaria saw plainly for the fraction of a - second the polished face of the Soudanese. Then it disappeared. - </p> - <p> - He rushed to the door, flung it open, and gazed downwards into the weblike - tracery of the steel-work which shone dully in the white glare of the - searchlight. A zigzag stairway, incomparably slender, stretched away - towards earth along the face of the colossal wheel, and a dark figure - slipped rapidly from rung to rung of the dizzy ladder. Then the light - moved capriciously away, and all was indistinguishable blackness. - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0013" id="link2HCH0013"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER XIII—Performances of Mr. Jetsam - </h2> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">C</span>arpentaria slipped - back into the car with a shiver, as it occurred to him that Ilam, had he - so chosen, might have pushed him into three hundred and forty - perpendicular feet of space. But Ilam had not moved. - </p> - <p> - “I’ve had enough,” said Carpentaria. “We’ll descend. Ring the bell.” - </p> - <p> - “No,” said Ilam. “I want to——” - </p> - <p> - “We’ll descend,” Carpentaria insisted. - </p> - <p> - “It’s about Juliette,” pleaded Ilam. - </p> - <p> - “We’ll descend,” said Carpentaria a third time. “Ring the bell.” - </p> - <p> - He sat down, took his revolver from his pocket, and put it ostentatiously - on his knees. - </p> - <p> - Ilam sighed, and pushed the white disc that communicated with the - engine-house, and a few moments later a vibration went through the wheel, - and it resumed its revolution. The car came down on the side nearest the - river, and its occupants had a superb view of the final items of the - display of fireworks. Among them were two portraits, in living flame, of - the twin gods of the City of Pleasure, and under each headpiece was the - name of its subject: “Ilam,” “Carpentaria.” The cheers of the immense - multitude greeted their ears. Then there was another sound, but it came - from above instead of from below. Ilam shrank as if afraid. - </p> - <p> - “You needn’t be frightened,” said Carpentaria. “It isn’t the trumpet of - the Day of Judgment, it’s only the beginning of a thunderstorm. It’s just - come in nice time to soak everybody through on their way home.” - </p> - <p> - Rain spattered viciously on the windows. - </p> - <p> - When they reached the ground a strange sight met their eyes—the - sight of seas and oceans of black, shining umbrellas, surging in waves - from all directions towards the Central Way and the exits from the City, - and as the umbrellas reached the covered footpaths of the Central Way they - collapsed and showed human beings. And then, at all the exits from the - City, all these umbrellas—and it was estimated that there were over - a quarter of a million of them—sprang again into life, and hid their - owners. The tempest was already at its height. - </p> - <p> - “Come with me,” said Carpentaria, as Ilam sought to leave him, when they - quitted the Amusements Park. - </p> - <p> - “No,” said Ilam flatly. - </p> - <p> - They stood side by side in the open, heedless of the rain, while shelter - in the shape of the sidewalks of the Central Way was within a few yards of - them. - </p> - <p> - The searchlight from the balloon still swept about the grounds, but the - fireworks were finished. - </p> - <p> - “You shall come with me and see a ghost,” insisted Carpentaria angrily and - obstinately, “or I will make such a scandal in this place as will go far - to ruin it. Let me tell you that I know a great deal more than you think. - I am in a position, for example, to ask you, Ilam, whether you spend your - nights in bed or wandering about the grounds carrying mysterious burdens.” - </p> - <p> - A group of visitors hurried past them. - </p> - <p> - “What do you mean?” muttered Ilam. “I—you must be going off your - head.” - </p> - <p> - “Doubtless I’m a madman, eh? Well, come along with the madman.” - </p> - <p> - Ilam sighed. They passed into the Central Way, and had to fight for - progress against the multitudes that crowded the footpaths. No one - recognized them. - </p> - <p> - “I wish we could understand each other,” said Ilam. - </p> - <p> - “We shall, rest assured of that,” returned Carpentaria. “In quite a few - minutes we shall understand each other, or I am mistaken, and it may be - you that will have to leave this City—and with considerably less - than fifty thousand a year, my friend.” He pictured the moment when he - should confront Ilam with the man whose corpse Ilam had buried. Vistas - opened out before him. He saw the tables completely turned; he saw himself - sole master of the City, and the wielder of such power over Ilam as would - enforce obedience to his wishes. Then there would be no more insulting - requests to abandon his music, no more ridiculous suggestions, and no fear - of foolishness on the part of Juliette. It astonished him that he had not - realized before the enormous latent power which his knowledge of Saturday - night gave him over Ilam. - </p> - <p> - “You will come with me to my house,” he said. - </p> - <p> - “Who is there?” asked Ilam wearily. - </p> - <p> - “Dr. Rivers—and the ghost.” - </p> - <p> - “What is all this nonsense about a ghost?” - </p> - <p> - “You shall see him first, and then, when you have seen him—before he - has seen you—you shall tell me whether or not you would like to have - a chat with him. It is a ghost warranted to talk.” - </p> - <p> - Ilam said nothing. He was naturally at a complete loss. - </p> - <p> - They entered the bungalow by means of Carpentaria’s latchkey, and they - mounted to the first-floor, and they went into the study. The door of the - bedroom was shut. Carpentaria led Ilam out on to the balcony of the study - window, from which it was not difficult, even for Ilam, to climb into the - balcony of the bedroom. - </p> - <p> - “Now, you shall look into my bedroom,” said Carpentaria. - </p> - <p> - And he himself looked first. It may be said that he was astounded. - </p> - <p> - The room was lighted. There were no signs of Mr. Jetsam, but two chairs - had been overturned, and young Rivers lay prone on the floor, his eyes - shut, and some blood flowing from a wound in his forehead. - </p> - <p> - Carpentaria sprang into the room, and, strange to say, Ilam followed him. - The fact was that Ilam did really for the moment believe Carpentaria to be - mad, and the bedroom to be the scene of some maniacal crime. . - </p> - <p> - Just then Rivers came to his senses. - </p> - <p> - “That you, Mr. Carpentaria?” he murmured, rubbing his eyes. - </p> - <p> - “Yes. What’s happened? Where’s Jetsam, as he calls himself? You’re not - seriously hurt, are you?” - </p> - <p> - At the name of Jetsam, Ilam caught his breath and took hold of a bedpost. - </p> - <p> - “Jetsam?” he repeated. - </p> - <p> - “You evidently recognize the name of my ghost,” said Carpentaria, “though - he isn’t here.” - </p> - <p> - “He bashed me on the head with a chair,” said the doctor, sitting up and - putting a handkerchief to his head, “and I suppose I must have—— - It can’t be more than a minute or two since——” - </p> - <p> - “But what was he doing? Where’s he gone?” inquired Carpentaria - impatiently. - </p> - <p> - “He recovered consciousness quite quickly,” answered Rivers, “and I gave - him something to drink; then he asked me about Mrs. Ilam, and I told him - she lived with Mr. Ilam here, and he grew very excited, and said he must - go to her at once. I said he couldn’t; I said you wouldn’t allow that, and - he pretended to agree; but it was only a pretence. He began to talk about - other things, and then, all of a sudden, he sprang at me, and that’s as - much as I remember.” - </p> - <p> - Without a word Carpentaria ran out downstairs and into the avenue. The - door of Ilam’s house stood wide open. He entered. In the hall he perceived - that the door of the drawing-room was also wide open, and he entered the - drawing-room..There was no light in the room save that of a match, and the - match was held by Mr. Jetsam. Mr. Jetsam stood staring at Mrs. Ilam, and - Mrs. Ilam sat motionless in her chair, apparently trying to articulate and - not succeeding. An appalling fear shone in her eyes. No sound could be - heard except the rattling of the rain on the French window. - </p> - <p> - Mr. Jetsam turned, and in the same second he dropped the match. The room - was in darkness. Then followed a crash of glass and splintering of wood, - and then a heavy fall in the apartment itself. With some trouble, - Carpentaria found the electric switch and turned on the light. Mrs. Ilam’s - lips were still trembling in a vain effort to speak. Her son lay stretched - and whimpering at her feet. Mr. Jetsam had vanished. The window was in - ruins. - </p> - <p> - Dr. Rivers appeared. He had bandaged his forehead. - </p> - <p> - “She is paralysed!” said the doctor, when he had examined Mrs. Ilam. “She - will never again have the use of her limbs or her organs of speech. She - will be able to see and to hear, that’s all.” - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2H_PART2" id="link2H_PART2"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - PART II—THE TWINS - </h2> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0014" id="link2HCH0014"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER XIV—Entry of the Twins - </h2> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">I</span>t is a singular - fact that the secondary stage of the drama which I am relating was - tremendously, vitally, influenced by the marriage of Mr. Luke Shooter, - junior partner in Shooter’s, a firm of wholesale ribbon merchants in - Cannon Street. Luke Shooter did not know it. Luke Shooter had nothing - whatever to do with the drama; it is very, probable that he never even - heard of it, except such trifling fragments as got into the newspapers. - Nevertheless, by the mere fact of marrying, Luke Shooter unconsciously - changed the course of events in the City of Pleasure. For he was a man of - broad views, and he liked people to think well of him, and so it occurred - that, at his suggestion, the multitudinous staff of Shooter’s was given a - complete holiday on the day of his marriage, and that day happened to be - Tuesday, May 4. - </p> - <p> - So much for Mr. Luke Shooter. - </p> - <p> - Many of the employés spent the latter half of the day in the City of - Pleasure, which was now the rage, the craze, and the vogue of London, and - among these were the twin sisters, Pauline and Rosie Dartmouth. Pauline - and Rosie were typists in the house of Shooters. Their age was twenty-six. - They were tall, and rather slim; only Rosie, the younger, was not quite so - slim as Pauline. Pauline was dark; Rosie was inclined to fairness. In the - partnership between them Pauline supplied the common sense, while Rosie - supplied the gaiety; each supplied a considerable amount of beauty and - charm, and a sum of thirty-five shillings a week. It is obvious that on a - total income of three pounds ten a week, or a hundred and eighty-two - pounds a year, two girls living together in a small flat, with sense and - gaiety and full opportunity for acquiring ribbons at wholesale prices, may - have a very good time and cut quite a pretty figure in the world. And this - Pauline and Rosie certainly did manage to do. - </p> - <p> - They were orphans, and had been for a very long time. - </p> - <p> - They came to the City by the Tube from their flat in Shepherd’s Bush, and - Pauline put a florin down for the two of them at the northern entrance - gates, just as though they had been ordinary visitors; as, in fact, at - that moment they were. A few persons noticed them, but quite casually, and - only because they were dressed—and well dressed—almost exactly - alike. There are so many beautiful young women in London that Londoners - seldom turn their heads to look at one. It is left to Frenchmen to rave - about the blond charm of the Anglo-Saxon “mees.” What exuberant adjectives - the Frenchman would find to express his delight if he penetrated further - north, into Staffordshire, Lancashire, and Yorkshire, where ugly faces and - bad complexions are practically unknown, it is impossible to guess. - </p> - <p> - The City of Pleasure met with the entire approval of Pauline and Rosie. As - soon as they found themselves in the Central Way they began to get - enthusiastic. The sun was shining, the flags were flying, the cable-cars - were gliding, and thousands and thousands of visitors made gay the City. - They had never before seen anything like the Central Way, with its - colonnades, and its shops, and its coloured throngs, and its soaring, - gleaming, white architecture. - </p> - <p> - “It’s just as good as being abroad, isn’t it?” said Rosie. - </p> - <p> - “Better,” said Pauline. - </p> - <p> - But then they had never been beyond Boulogne. - </p> - <p> - They stopped at shop windows, as much to regard jewellery and - knick-knacks, as to observe whether their frocks and chiffons and hats - were in that immaculate order which a sunny day and the presence of one’s - fellow-creatures demand. It may be mentioned here that their dresses were - of dark blue, with blue belts, bunchy knots of white muslin at the throat, - white gloves, brown glacé kid boots, and large blue-and-black picture - hats. It was plain, but it was perfect, and they knew it was perfect. The - consciousness of perfection enabled them to sustain the judicial gaze of - other women, and the passing glance of innumerable young men, with a - supercilious stare. In truth they were secretly wild with the joy of life, - and the attractiveness of the City, and the sensations of their holiday, - but they did not show it. Oh, no! They did not show it. They were prim to - the most advanced degree, as became them. - </p> - <p> - “I should just love to go on one of those dear little cable-cars!” - exclaimed Rosie. - </p> - <p> - “Well, let’s,” Pauline agreed. - </p> - <p> - “Aren’t they delicious?” said Rosie. - </p> - <p> - And only in the girlish hop, skip, and jump, which landed them gracefully - on a car, was there a hint of the pent-up vivacity which surged in their - veins—a hint that vanished as rapidly as it had showed itself. As - Rosie smoothed out her skirt, and as Pauline opened the purse in her - gloved hand to give two pence to the conductor, they had the utter - demureness of duchesses. - </p> - <p> - The car was open to the sky, with crosswise seats, and, as it sailed - rapidly down the Central Way, constantly passing other cars coming in the - opposite direction, and passing fountains and flower-beds and elephants - and camels, and all the strange world of the City, the pleasure became - rather too keen for Rosie’s mercurial heart. She took Pauline’s hand and - pressed it, sitting a little bit closer to her. - </p> - <p> - “Suppose we meet him?” she whispered. - </p> - <p> - “What? In this crowd? Never! Besides, he isn’t likely to be outside,” said - Pauline. - </p> - <p> - She was only a few minutes older than Rosie, but she could not have played - the elder sister more completely had she been ten years older. - </p> - <p> - “We might meet <i>her</i>, anyway!” murmured Rosie. - </p> - <p> - “Nonsense, Rosie. You don’t imagine she’ll be here, do you?” - </p> - <p> - “I don’t know,” said Rosie, lifting her chin. “But suppose we do meet him, - or either of them.” - </p> - <p> - “Well, then,” said Pauline wisely, “we meet them, that’s all.” - </p> - <p> - “Shall you speak to them?” Rosie asked; “I shan’t.” - </p> - <p> - “We’ll think about that when we see them,” said Pauline. - </p> - <p> - “Oh!” cried Rosie. - </p> - <p> - This exclamation had nothing to do with the foregoing chatter. It merely - expressed some part of Rosie’s joy when the car came to the magnificent - circular place half-way down the Central Way, with the façade of the - Exposition Palace on the right, the stately entrance to the Oriental - Gardens on the left, and the superb vista of the thoroughfare before and - behind. - </p> - <p> - “Oh!” cried Rosie again, for quite a different reason. - </p> - <p> - Already she had forgotten the architectural and other beauties of this - scene, and was eagerly directing Pauline’s attention to a tall man with - vivid hair and an individual style, who had just crossed the rails in - front of the car and was proceeding towards the Oriental Gardens. - </p> - <p> - “There!” said Rosie, pointing frantically, yet primly. “Don’t you see - him?” - </p> - <p> - “Who? That man with the red hair?” - </p> - <p> - “Yes; it’s Carpentaria, isn’t it?” - </p> - <p> - “So it is, I do declare!” agreed Pauline, frankly as interested as her - sister. - </p> - <p> - It was. - </p> - <p> - “Oh!” breathed Rosie regretfully, as the car swept them further from the - figure of the popular hero. “Doesn’t he look lovely? He’s just like his - portraits, only nicer, isn’t he?” - </p> - <p> - “I—I couldn’t see him very well,” said the discreet Pauline. - </p> - <p> - “Yes, you could,” Rosie corrected her sharply. “You know you adore him. - But you’re always so mum.” - </p> - <p> - Pauline smiled placidly. - </p> - <p> - “I do wish we could meet him—be introduced to him I mean!” said - Rosie. - </p> - <p> - “My dear child,” Pauline reprimanded. “Don’t be silly. He’s frightfully - rich.” - </p> - <p> - “I know!” said Rosie sadly. “But he isn’t married. I think his hair’s - beautiful.” - </p> - <p> - In common with very many English and other girls, Rosie and Pauline were - capable of displaying brazenly, for a man they had scarcely seen, an - affection the tenth part of which certain males with whom they were - intimately acquainted would have been delighted to receive. Their virgin - hearts had never been touched, not even by the Apollos of the house of - Shooter; they prided themselves on their unapproachableness; yet they - could rave about Carpentaria, and openly profess that they were his - slaves. In Carpentaria’s presence they would doubtless have behaved, even - if they did not feel, differently. - </p> - <p> - The car whirled them to the other end of the City, and they began - systematically to do everything and to see everything that could be done - and seen, from the captive balloon (not that they did that—they were - content to see it) to the Soudanese native village, from the circus to the - exhibition relating to Woman, from the cricket field to the Freak Show, - and from the Art Galleries to the ladies’ afternoon-tea café. They were in - the ladies’ afternoon-tea café and paying for two pots of tea, seven - cakes, and an extra cream, just as the clock struck five. It then occurred - to them that a concert of military music began at precisely five o’clock - in the Oriental Gardens, and they decided to go and listen to it, even - though, sad to say, Carpentaria never conducted in person till the - evening. - </p> - <p> - They crossed the Central Way, and were strolling along the avenue to the - Gardens, when Pauline stopped. - </p> - <p> - “Well, I never!” she exclaimed. - </p> - <p> - “What is it?” - </p> - <p> - Coming down the steps of Ilam’s bungalow was the great Ilam himself, and - it was to Ilam she pointed. - </p> - <p> - “What shall we do?” whispered Rosie. “He’s lots older, isn’t he?... And - you said we shouldn’t meet him!” - </p> - <p> - They walked on, irresolute and blushing, and just as they arrived opposite - Ilam’s gate, with their eyes gazing studiously straight in front of them, - Ilam called out: - </p> - <p> - “Hi, there! Young ladies!” - </p> - <p> - Now, the avenue was generously sprinkled with people, but Pauline and - Rosie happened to be the only young ladies within hail, and to have - ignored such a loud and unmistakable appeal as Ilam’s would have drawn - down upon them more public attention than they desired. They therefore - stopped, still blushing, but delightfully blushing, and smiling with that - innate kindliness of heart which distinguished both of them. Rosie spoke - first. She was a woman, and had positively stated that under the - circumstances she should not speak. Hence, naturally, she spoke first. - </p> - <p> - “Good afternoon, cousin,” said she. - </p> - <p> - In her manner of pronouncing that word “cousin,” a non-committal manner, a - more-than-meets-the-eye manner, a defensive manner—in a word, a - family manner—she indicated a whole family history. When relatives - who are distant in more senses than one meet after a considerable period, - that particular manner is invariably employed by the one who speaks first. - </p> - <p> - The history of the Dartmouths and the Ilams was quite simple—indeed, - so usual as to be hardly worthy of record. Mrs. Dartmouth, mother of the - twins, had been an Ilam. She was the orphan child of Josephus’ dead uncle, - and therefore niece of Josephus’ father. And before her marriage she was - understood to have “expectations” from that mighty and opulent soda-water - manufacturer. However, heedless of these expectations, she went and - married beneath her—to wit, a solicitor’s clerk. The niece of a rich - soda-water manufacturer has no business to marry a solicitor’s clerk. The - result was a complete estrangement. Mrs. Dartmouth gave all the Ilams to - understand that she and her husband had no need of anyone’s money—that, - in fact, they scorned the Ilam millions. Mrs. Dartmouth met Josephus at - his father’s funeral. Ten years later Pauline and Rosie met Josephus at - Mrs. Dartmouth’s funeral. They shook hands formally, and made it clear to - Josephus that they would stoop to accept no gift from him, who had scorned - their mother, even should he offer it. - </p> - <p> - That was seven years ago, and Pauline and Rosie were now absolutely alone - in the world, and, moreover, age had taught them tolerance, and their - curiosity had been extremely excited by the news of their cousin’s - partnership with the world-renowned Carpentaria, and the subsequent birth - of the City of Pleasure. So that, in spite of anything they might have - previously said to each other, they were rather pleased to meet their - solemn cousin, who, after all, was a millionaire, and who really seemed - less aloof and stiff than he appeared at funerals. - </p> - <p> - “So you were going to cut me?” said Ilam, trying to smile. - </p> - <p> - “No, cousin,” said Pauline. “How are you? You don’t look very well.” - </p> - <p> - They shook hands over the gate. - </p> - <p> - “I’m not,” said Ilam. - </p> - <p> - “And Mrs. Ilam. She keeps pretty well, I hope,” put in Rosie decorously. - </p> - <p> - “That’s just it. She doesn’t. She’s—— Won’t you come in?” - </p> - <p> - And he opened the gate. - </p> - <p> - “Do you live here?” cried Rosie. “Fancy living in the middle of this - place! How jolly! And what a jolly house! Oh! what a delicious notion—living - in the show!” - </p> - <p> - And they disappeared into the bungalow. - </p> - <p> - The historic family coolness looked as if it was going to warm itself into - a sort of pleasant acquaintanceship. - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0015" id="link2HCH0015"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER XV—Proposal of Josephus - </h2> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">Y</span>es, Ilam was - saying when they came downstairs, “she has been like that since last - night, and the doctors—I have had two—assure me that at her - age no recovery is possible. She can take liquid food, and she can move - her eyes slightly—you noticed how her eyes turn?—but otherwise - she is incapable of movement, and, of course, she can’t articulate.” - </p> - <p> - He had taken his young relatives upstairs to see his mother, and the - picture of her, lying almost in the attitude of a corpse on the bed, with - a uniformed nurse sitting motionless beside her, had made a deep - impression on Pauline and Rosie. In fact, the whole house saddened them. - It was spacious and luxurious, but it was far from reaching that standard - of splendour which one might reasonably expect from the Ilam wealth. Ilam - did not look like a wealthy man. He did not talk like a wealthy man, and - both girls began to perceive, dimly, that wealth is useless to those who - have not sufficient imagination to employ it. Certainly the City of - Pleasure was an expression of the Ilam riches, but they knew, as all the - world knew, that the imagination which had brought into being the City of - Pleasure was Carpentaria’s. Hence, they felt sorry for Josephus Ilam, - partly because of the calamity to his mother, and partly because of his - forlorn and anxious air; they thought he wanted looking after, and that - this heavy pompous man was greatly to be pitied, despite his opulence. - </p> - <p> - “You haven’t told us how it happened, what caused it?” said Pauline - sympathetically. - </p> - <p> - “Oh!” said Ilam, “as to that, who can tell? Probably some fright, some - shock. But we can’t say. She was alone when it happened. And as she can’t - speak—can’t write—can’t—— Well, you see how it - is.” - </p> - <p> - “We are sorry for you,” murmured Rosie. - </p> - <p> - “And here I am, alone as it were,” Ilam continued. “What am I to do? What - can a man do by himself? I’ve got a nurse. I can get fifty nurses, if - necessary. And there are the servants. But what are nurses and servants? - You understand my position, don’t you?” - </p> - <p> - “Yes, quite,” said Pauline. - </p> - <p> - They were partaking of a second tea in the Ilam drawing-room. The appetite - of Rosie for cakes seemed unimpaired, though she did her best to hide it, - and to pretend that she was only eating cakes out of politeness. - </p> - <p> - Ilam swallowed his tea in great gulps. - </p> - <p> - “I’m utterly unnerved,” he said. - </p> - <p> - “You must be,” said Rosie kindly. - </p> - <p> - “There’s a vast amount of superintendence to do in the City, as you may - guess. But what am I fit for, with my poor old mother lying up there? You - can’t fancy what she was to me. I depended on her for everything—everything.” - </p> - <p> - And then tears showed themselves in the little eyes of Josephus Ilam. The - appearance of those tears in the eyes of a great strong man made Rosie - feel very uncomfortable, so much so, that she was obliged to look out of - the window. - </p> - <p> - “I wish we could help you,” said Pauline, after a pause. - </p> - <p> - “We’d do anything we could,” said Rosie. - </p> - <p> - Ilam glanced up. - </p> - <p> - “You can do everything,” he said. “I hesitated to ask you, but since - you’ve mentioned it yourselves... and I’ll make it worth your while. Rely - on that.” - </p> - <p> - “But what?” demanded Pauline, startled, while Rosie put down a fresh piece - of cake which she had just taken. - </p> - <p> - “Come and live here,” said Ilam bluntly. - </p> - <p> - “Both of us?” - </p> - <p> - “Both of you.” - </p> - <p> - “We couldn’t do that, really,” said Pauline. - </p> - <p> - “No, of course not. But wouldn’t it be lovely?” added Rosie. - </p> - <p> - “Why couldn’t you?” asked Ilam. “You are your own mistresses, aren’t you? - What is there to prevent you?” - </p> - <p> - “Well, you see,” said Pauline judicially, “we have our living to get, and - then there’s our flat, and——” - </p> - <p> - “I don’t know how much you earn,” Ilam cried. “But I’ll cheerfully - undertake to give you treble, whatever it is.” - </p> - <p> - “That would be five hundred and forty-six pounds a year, then,” said - Rosie, who was specially good at arithmetic. - </p> - <p> - “Let us say six hundred,” Ilam amended the figure with a tremendously - casual air. - </p> - <p> - The girls felt that, after all, perhaps he resembled a millionaire more - than they had at first thought. - </p> - <p> - “Come, now,” Ilam urged. “Say yes. It’s an idea that came to me all of a - sudden, while I was talking to you. But it’s an idea that gets better and - better the more I think about it.” - </p> - <p> - “But we couldn’t give up our situations,” objected Pauline. - </p> - <p> - “Why not?” Ilam asked. - </p> - <p> - “I don’t know,” Pauline stammered. “It seems so queer. It’s so sudden. - What would our duties be here?” - </p> - <p> - “Your duties would be to act as mistresses of this house, and to look - after my poor mother. Of course, there’d be a nurse as well. I don’t know - how many servants there are—five or six.” - </p> - <p> - “And we should have to manage everything?” said Pauline. - </p> - <p> - “Everything domestic. Come, you agree?” - </p> - <p> - “But suppose,” interpolated Rosie—“suppose we—you—we - didn’t suit you?” - </p> - <p> - What she meant was “Suppose you didn’t suit us?” - </p> - <p> - “Come a month on trial,” said Ilam. “At the end of that time, if you want - to leave, I’ll guarantee you a situation quite as good as you’re leaving. - I can’t say fairer than that, can I?” - </p> - <p> - There was a pause; the twins looked at each other. - </p> - <p> - “Just think how I’m fixed!” pleaded Ilam. - </p> - <p> - “What do you say, Rosie?” Pauline asked primly of her sister. - </p> - <p> - “Well,” answered Rosie, “as cousin is in such a dilemma, and poor Mrs. - Ilam so—so ill, perhaps——” - </p> - <p> - “Good!” exclaimed Ilam; “you agree. Good! I’m very much obliged to you. - You’re two really nice girls, and I can assure you you’ll have a free hand - here.” - </p> - <p> - “You decide for us,” said Pauline, smiling and reddening under Ilam’s - appreciation. - </p> - <p> - “We’ll begin at once, eh?” said Ilam. “Tonight.” - </p> - <p> - “Oh, that’s quite out of the question,” objected Rosie. “We shall be - obliged to give a month’s notice at Shooter’s.” - </p> - <p> - “Nonsense!” said Ilam. “I’ll send ‘em a cheque for a month’s salary - instead; then they can’t grumble.” - </p> - <p> - “But to-morrow? How will they manage without us?” persisted Rosie. - </p> - <p> - Ilam laughed—and it was not often that Ilam laughed. Either the - humour of the thing must have appealed to him very strongly, or it was a - symptom that his spirits had mightily improved. - </p> - <p> - “They’ll manage without you,” he said. - </p> - <p> - “It’s true they can get substitutes from the Typewriting Exchange,” said - Pauline. - </p> - <p> - Thus, it was arranged that Pauline and Rosie should take one of the City - automobiles to their flat, and return with trunks and boxes during the - evening. Before leaving the bungalow Pauline wrote to Shooter’s informing - them of the blow that had fallen on Shooter’s, and Ilam filled in a - cheque, and Rosie put it in the envelope and fastened the envelope. The - automobile, ordered by telephone, came round to the door. - </p> - <p> - “You’ll introduce us to Mr. Carpentaria, won’t you?” said Rosie smilingly, - as she was getting into the carriage. - </p> - <p> - Ilam frowned, and then cleared his face. - </p> - <p> - “Do you want to know him?” he asked. - </p> - <p> - “Why, of course!” - </p> - <p> - “Very well, I suppose you must,” Ilam agreed. - </p> - <p> - “Well, isn’t this the greatest fun?” Rosie whispered to Pauline when they - drove off. “We can go where we like in the City. We can save at least five - hundred a year, and perhaps we shall be his heiresses.” - </p> - <p> - “Hush!” Pauline admonished her. - </p> - <p> - And three hours later those two extremely practical twins were thoroughly - installed in the Ilam bungalow. They had the air of having lived there all - their lives as they chatted with Ilam in the drawing-room. Ilam himself - was decidedly looking a little better. - </p> - <p> - “I have been talking to nurse,” said Pauline importantly, “and I shall - sleep on the couch in Mrs. Ham’s room to-night. Nurse needs rest. She says - there is nothing to do, but some one should be there.” - </p> - <p> - “I don’t want you to begin by tiring yourselves,” said Ilam, “but, of - course——” - </p> - <p> - They heard a violent ring at the front-door, and presently a servant - entered. Ilam started. - </p> - <p> - “Mr. Carpentaria,” said the servant. - </p> - <p> - Ilam turned pale. - </p> - <p> - “Show him in,” said Rosie calmly to the servant. - </p> - <p> - “Yes, Miss Rose,” said the servant, who, in common with the other - servants, had already been clearly informed of the names, position, and - authority of the new-comers. - </p> - <p> - “You are to introduce him to us, you know,” Rosie murmured sweetly to - Ilam, “and I suppose we shall have to play hostesses now.” - </p> - <p> - Carpentaria came in, evidently hot from his concert. - </p> - <p> - “I say, Ilam——” he began. - </p> - <p> - Then he perceived the twins, and Ilam clumsily performed the - introductions. The girls were enchanted with his uniform and with him. He - said little, and he was pale, but then he was so distinguished; all his - movements were distinguished and magnificent. - </p> - <p> - “We saw you this afternoon,” Rosie ventured timidly. - </p> - <p> - “And I didn’t see you! The loss was mine,” he returned, gazing at Pauline. - </p> - <p> - Ilam had sunk back heavily into a chair. Carpentaria caught sight of his - face, and an awkward silence followed. - </p> - <p> - “I came on a matter of business,” Carpentaria said to Ilam, “but I won’t - trouble you now, it will do to-morrow. Good-night.” - </p> - <p> - “We shall hope to see more of you,” said Rosie when Carpentaria had - demonstrated that he really meant to go. - </p> - <p> - “Yes indeed,” said Pauline very quietly, and the visitor bowed. - </p> - <p> - And then Carpentaria, that glorious vision, had vanished. - </p> - <p> - “Cousin’s nerves are simply all to pieces,” commented Rosie, as the girls - were going upstairs; “even a casual visitor upsets him. Did you notice his - face as soon as the bell rang?” - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0016" id="link2HCH0016"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER XVI—The Box - </h2> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">P</span>auline had put the - book down on the bed, and was bending over the fire pulling the coals - together with the poker. She performed this homely, natural, everyday - action more to reassure herself, to convince herself that she was in an - everyday world, than because the fire needed attention. For the strange - mystery of the speechless creature on the bed, helpless as though bound - with chains and gagged by the devices of tortures, had seized and - terrified her. She held the poker in the air and listened. Not a sound - save the ticking of the clock on the mantelpiece! From all the sleeping - house, not a sound. She might have been alone with the living corpse in - the house, and yet she knew that Rosie, and Josephus Ilam, and the nurse, - and the halfdozen servants, were in various rooms of it, perhaps sleeping, - perhaps trying to sleep. - </p> - <p> - There was a sudden sharp noise behind her, near the bed. - </p> - <p> - She started violently and glanced round in fear. It was merely the book—the - harmless and amusing “The Lady or the Tiger?”—which had slipped from - the bed to the floor. Yet how could it have slipped? Had the paralytic, - who was incapable of the slightest movement, after all twitched a limb and - so shaken the book off the bed? Absurd. She had merely placed the book too - close to the edge of the bed; that was all. Nothing more natural, nothing - more probable. Her nervous fright was grotesque. - </p> - <p> - She rose, picked up the book, and looked again at her charge. The burning, - blazing eyes were still dropping tears, and the tears ran in a deep furrow - down either cheek. Softly Pauline wiped them away, her own eyes moist. The - tragedy of the life’s end of this old, old woman, whom every one had - regarded as fierce and formidable, rendered helpless in a moment by no one - knew what horrible visitation, chilled her heart’s core. - </p> - <p> - “What can she want? What is troubling her?” thought Pauline frenziedly. - </p> - <p> - And then she imagined that perhaps she had mistaken all the symptoms of - those eyes, and that Mrs. Ilam had wished her to continue to read. She - resumed the book, and read very slowly in a fairly loud voice. And - instantly the eyes began to blink irregularly—fast, then slow—and - the eyeballs themselves moved slightly from side to side. Obviously the - patient was not content. - </p> - <p> - Pauline put down the book again in despair. - </p> - <p> - The eyeballs still moved slightly to and fro. - </p> - <p> - “She wants something in the room. What can it be?”’ said Pauline to - herself. “It may be she is thirsty.” - </p> - <p> - She went to the night-table and poured a few drops of water into the - invalid’s cup, and brought it near Mrs. Ilam’s lips. But the eyes seemed - to close as if in refusal, and the face, which could only wear one - expression—that of grief—to deepen its inexpressible - melancholy. - </p> - <p> - And then an idea occurred to Pauline, and shone on her brow like a light. - </p> - <p> - “Listen,” she said kindly to the aged woman. “I will ask you some - questions. The answers will be only yes or no. If you mean ‘no’ try to - keep your eyelids still, but if you mean ‘yes’ blink them! as much as you - can. Do you understand?” - </p> - <p> - The eyelids blinked; and then they continued their terrible entranced - stare at a spot on the ceiling exactly above their owner’s head. - </p> - <p> - “Good,” said Pauline. “Are you in pain?” - </p> - <p> - No movement of the eyelids. - </p> - <p> - “Are you thirsty?” - </p> - <p> - A slight flickering, which the patient clearly endeavoured to suppress. - </p> - <p> - “You want something?” - </p> - <p> - The eyes blinked. - </p> - <p> - “Is it some person?” - </p> - <p> - The eyelids were steady. - </p> - <p> - “Something in this room?” - </p> - <p> - A violent blinking. - </p> - <p> - “Is it in a drawer?” - </p> - <p> - The eyelids were steady. - </p> - <p> - “Then I can see it as I stand here?” - </p> - <p> - The eyes blinked again. Pauline set the cup down on the night-table, and - gazed round the room. She went to the mantelpiece, and gave a list of the - things on it: candlestick, clock, matches, vases, keys, medicine-bottle, a - piece of crochet work, a long knitting-needle, a picture post-card. There - was no response from the invalid. - </p> - <p> - “How foolish I am!” murmured Pauline. “She cannot possibly want any of - these things.” Then she saw a few old letters half-hidden behind the - clock. “Is it there?” she asked, holding the letters near to Mrs. Ilam. - </p> - <p> - But there was still no response. She put back the letters and went to the - ottoman, on which was a large family Bible. But it was not the Bible that - Mrs. Ilam wanted, nor a spectacle case that lay on the Bible. Then Pauline - catalogued one by one the contents of the dressing-table, and then the - contents of the washstand, still with no result. At last, she came to a - chest of drawers, covered with a piece of white crewelwork, and bearing - some wax flowers, two small vases, a black lacquered box, sundry folded - linen, several books, and a few faded photographs. She described the - photographs and the linen and the books, as these seemed to be the most - likely objects, and then she came to the lacquered box. And suddenly, the - eyes began to blink furiously. - </p> - <p> - “You want this box?” - </p> - <p> - The eyes continued to blink. - </p> - <p> - She brought it to the bed: It was about eight inches square and three - inches in depth, and beautifully inlaid with mother-of-pearl in a design - to resemble a bunch of roses—just such a little cabinet as our - grandmothers valued, such as was scorned as being Early Victorian during - the aesthetic movement of the eighties and nineties, but such as we - ourselves are beginning to recognize as beautiful. It had prominent brass - hinges, and a keyhole, and it was locked. - </p> - <p> - “Do you want me to open it? It’s locked.” - </p> - <p> - The eyes were moderately still. - </p> - <p> - “Then you wish it put somewhere else?” - </p> - <p> - They blinked. - </p> - <p> - “In a drawer?” - </p> - <p> - No response. - </p> - <p> - “On the dressing-table?” - </p> - <p> - No response. - </p> - <p> - “Near you?” - </p> - <p> - The eyes blinked, - </p> - <p> - “On the bed?” - </p> - <p> - No response. - </p> - <p> - “Under the bed?” - </p> - <p> - No response. - </p> - <p> - Pauline was at a loss. - </p> - <p> - “Under your pillow?” she hazarded at length. - </p> - <p> - The eyelids moved up and down, if not with joy, at any rate with - satisfaction. - </p> - <p> - And very carefully Pauline raised the pillow, and - </p> - <p> - Mrs. Ilam’s head, and slipped the box underneath both the pillow and the - bolster. - </p> - <p> - “There; is that right?” - </p> - <p> - The tragic eyes blinked, and a slight sigh emanated weakly from between - those thin pale lips. But, slight as it was, it seemed to have come from - the innermost depths of the stricken woman’s being. It might have been a - sigh to indicate that her last wish was realized. - </p> - <p> - “I shall lie down now,” said Pauline, and turning out all the electric - lights except the tiny table lamp on the table, she stretched herself on - the couch which stood at the foot of the great bed, and she drew a rug - over her and shut her eyes and told herself that she must sleep. But she - could not sleep. Her brain was as busy as the inside of a clock and - electric lights seemed to be burning and fizzing in it, extinguishing - themselves and relighting themselves. What strange house had she and Rosie - wandered into? What was the hidden secret of this paralysis, and of - Josephus Ilam’s worn and worried mien, and of the sudden arrival and - equally sudden departure of Carpentaria? And, above all, what was the - meaning of the old woman’s desire for the box. What was in the box? - </p> - <p> - Do not imagine that Pauline regretted having come. She did not. Except - under the passing influences of night and of the presence of illness, she - was not a bit superstitious; nor was Rosie. They were not afraid of - mysteries. They were intensely practical young women, incapable of being - frightened or repulsed by what they did not understand. And that Pauline - was a girl entirely without the timidity of the doe, she abundantly proved - in the next few minutes. As she lay on the couch she could see, without - moving her head, the French window. She fancied that the heavy crimson - curtain was somewhat pulled aside in one place, at a height of about four - feet from the ground, and she fancied that she could see the end of a - finger on the end of the curtain. “No,” she said to herself, “this is - ridiculous. There cannot possibly be a finger there. I must not be silly,” - and she resolutely shut her eyes. The next time she opened them, the fire - had blazed up a little and, more than ever, the something on the edge of - the curtain resembled a finger. - </p> - <p> - Her little heart beating, but courageously, she noiselessly rose up from - the couch and approached the window. - </p> - <p> - It was the end of a finger on the edge of the curtain—a finger with - a rounded and very white finger-nail I Moreover, the curtain trembled - slightly, as it would do if held by some one who was endeavouring not to - move. Pauline remembered that the French window behind the curtain had - purposely been left slightly open, and that it gave on to a balcony, as - most of the windows of the bungalow did. - </p> - <p> - She advanced resolutely, and drew aside the curtain. - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0017" id="link2HCH0017"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER XVII—The Man on the Balcony - </h2> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">A</span> man was standing - behind it. The French window had been opened at least eight inches, and - the man stood partly in the aperture and partly in the room. He did not - flinch. He did not even seem scared, nor yet disturbed. He was a - middle-aged man, with grey hair, and a worn, rather sad face, and he wore - a blue suit of clothes, which showed earth-stains and other evidences of - an exciting and violent life. He was, in fact, the man whom Ilam had - buried, and who described himself to Carpentaria as Mr. Jetsam. - </p> - <p> - “What are you doing here?” demanded Pauline, in a low, brave voice. “What - do you want?” - </p> - <p> - She mastered her fear, though her heart was beating madly. She determined - that, just as she had proved equal to difficult situations in the past, - she would prove equal to this one. - </p> - <p> - “Now that you have seen me, I want to talk to you,” replied the man. - </p> - <p> - “You climbed up by the balcony, didn’t you?” she asked. - </p> - <p> - “Yes,” said the intruder. “Nothing more simple. I found a ladder.” - </p> - <p> - “Then you had better go as you came—and quickly!” said the girl. - </p> - <p> - “And the alternative?” - </p> - <p> - “Of course, I must call the master of the house. In any event I shall do - that.” - </p> - <p> - “No,” said Mr. Jetsam. “For heaven’s sake don’t call Jos.” - </p> - <p> - “Jos!” repeated Pauline, astounded at this familiarity. - </p> - <p> - “I said ‘Jos,’” the man insisted firmly. “What do you take me for?” - </p> - <p> - “Naturally I take you for a burglar. What else should you be?” - </p> - <p> - “Now, do I look like a burglar?” Mr. Jetsam asked severely. “Examine me, - and tell me whether I look like a burglar.” - </p> - <p> - “Whatever you are,” said Pauline, in a tone of decision, “I cannot remain - talking to you like this. I am in charge of an invalid here, and you must - go.” - </p> - <p> - The man gazed at her fixedly. She thought his eyes were very sad eyes, and - yet dignified, too. They reminded her of the eyes of Mrs. Ilam. And - presently, when they grew moist, they reminded her even more of the eyes - of Mrs. Ilam. - </p> - <p> - “Miss Dartmouth,” said the man, “I can easily prove to you that I am not a - burglar.” - </p> - <p> - “Then you know me?” - </p> - <p> - “I know of you. I know your name. I know you by sight. I know that you and - your sister have come into this stricken and fatal house from sheer - goodness of heart!’ - </p> - <p> - “Do not talk like that,” said Pauline, whom any praise, save of her - personal appearance, made extremely uncomfortable. She endeavoured to make - her voice cold, forbidding, and accusatory, but she could not. The eyes of - the grey-haired man seemed to hypnotize her, to rob her of initiative, and - of the power to decide things for herself. - </p> - <p> - “I will talk in any manner you like,” returned Mr. Jetsam, “provided you - will let me come into the room and explain to you what I want.” - </p> - <p> - “Impossible,” she replied. - </p> - <p> - “Why impossible? It is, on the contrary, perfectly easy,” said Mr. Jetsam. - “All I have to do is to close the window”—and he closed it—“to - come into the room”—and he came in—“and to ask you to be good - enough to listen.” - </p> - <p> - He put down his felt hat on a chair. - </p> - <p> - He now stood within the room, a couple of feet from Pauline, in the - direction of the bed, but with his back to it. - </p> - <p> - Pauline, with a sudden sharp movement, darted to the mantelpiece, by the - side of which was the bell-push. In the same instant he, too, darted - forward and clutched her wrist, just as she was about to touch the bell. - They held themselves rigid for a moment, like statues. - </p> - <p> - “I understand your feelings,” said Mr. Jetsam in a shaken voice. “I admire - you. But before you ring that bell, let me assure you most solemnly that - if you do ring it you will bring murder into this house. You will utterly - ruin one family, if not two. Believe what I say; you cannot help but - believe it. A man’s character for truthfulness shows itself in every - accent of his voice, and by this time, you must be very well aware that - when I speak, I speak the truth.” - </p> - <p> - Pauline moved from the mantelpiece and he loosed her arm. - </p> - <p> - “Well?” she said interrogatively. - </p> - <p> - She did not know it, but she was breathing very rapidly through her nose, - and her charming nostrils were distended. Still, she probably noticed the - admiration in Mr. Jetsam’s glance. - </p> - <p> - “Miss Dartmouth,” he began, and then stopped. - </p> - <p> - Simultaneously they both thought of the invalid stretched moveless on the - bed, and Pauline bent over that form. The eyes blinked irregularly, and - always they stared up at the same point of the ceiling. They were dry, but - Pauline noticed traces of tears on the rugged cheeks, and she wiped them - away—it was her mission. - </p> - <p> - “Ah!” she murmured. “You can’t advise me what I ought to do.” - </p> - <p> - And then she faced Mr. Jetsam once more, still standing by the bed. The - table-lamp, with the crimson silk shade, and the bright fire gave - sufficient light. - </p> - <p> - “Miss Dartmouth,” Mr. Jetsam recommenced, “a great crime was committed - long ago in the Ilam family, one of the most cruel crimes conceivable. It - can never be atoned for in full, or nearly in full: but, even now, after - many, many years, it can be partially atoned for.” - </p> - <p> - “Who committed this crime? and what was it? Murder?” gasped Pauline in a - breath. - </p> - <p> - “I cannot be sure who committed it,” replied the man; “and it was not - murder. It was worse than murder.” - </p> - <p> - “How do you know it was worse than murder? How does it concern you?” - </p> - <p> - “I was the victim,” said the man quietly. And then he raised his voice and - repeated: “I was the victim. I am the victim.” - </p> - <p> - “Hush!” she warned him. “Not so loud.” - </p> - <p> - He turned to the bed with a strange expression on his face. - </p> - <p> - “Why not so loud?” he demanded. “She can hear, even if we speak in a - whisper. She has heard everything, and she can do nothing.” - </p> - <p> - He spoke bitterly, and held a pointing finger at the old woman. And her - eyes remained ever fixed, blinking irregularly, regardless of the two - beings near her. - </p> - <p> - “You are cruel,” said Pauline. “You torture her.” - </p> - <p> - “Far from being cruel,” said Mr. Jetsam, “I am kind. Justice is always - kind, for it alone produces peace, and peace alone produces happiness.” - </p> - <p> - “You would not talk like that if you had ever been happy,” said Pauline. - </p> - <p> - “If I have not been happy, it is because justice has been denied me. If - this old woman and her son have never been happy it is because they have - denied me justice. But justice may now be done, and you yourself may be - the first instrument of it.” - </p> - <p> - “Tell me how,” said Pauline. - </p> - <p> - “You will be the blind instrument,” he said. - </p> - <p> - “Tell me how,” Pauline repeated. - </p> - <p> - “I have been watching a long time at that window,” said the man, always - with the utmost respect—“and what I saw convinces me that you know - more of this affair than you care to seem to know.” - </p> - <p> - “What do you mean?” demanded the girl defiantly. - </p> - <p> - “Well,” said Mr. Jetsam, “Mrs. Ilam cannot talk, cannot give instructions - of any kind. Yet I saw you take a particular box from off the chest of - drawers, and hide it under the invalid’s pillow. In order to hide it, you - actually disturbed the invalid. You lifted her head to enable you to - conceal the box in the bed beneath it. That is strange, Miss Dartmouth. - But I have no desire to pry into your secrets. You are a friend of the - family, nay more, a relative, and you had the right to do all that you - have done. But let me tell you at once that I have come in search of - precisely that box. I hoped to get it while everybody was asleep; but I - was prepared for emergencies. If your cousin Ilam had been here in your - place I should have obtained possession of it without asking his leave. - But you—well, I humbly ask you to give it to me.” - </p> - <p> - Pauline gazed at the poor organism on the bed. - </p> - <p> - “Is he to have the box?” she asked. “Is he to have the box, Mrs. Ilam?” - </p> - <p> - The staring, sad eyes did not move. There was not the slightest flutter of - the lids. - </p> - <p> - “Why do you put questions to her?” asked Mr. Jetsam moodily. - </p> - <p> - “She means that you are not to have the box,” said Pauline, and then she - addressed Mrs. Ilam anew. “You mean that he is to go away without the - box?” - </p> - <p> - The eyelids wavered and then blinked rapidly. - </p> - <p> - “That means ‘Yes.’ You must now go—at once. I have listened to you - too long,” said Pauline. - </p> - <p> - “It is impossible that you should refuse me,” argued the man. “Impossible! - I don’t suppose that motion of the eyelids means anything, but even if it - did, naturally she does not want me to have the box. Still, I must have - it. Miss Dartmouth, everything depends on my obtaining that box. Its - contents are essential to the bringing about of justice. I entreat you - most urgently and most solemnly to give it to me. You cannot doubt my - sincerity.” - </p> - <p> - “I will admit frankly,” answered Pauline, “that I do not doubt your - sincerity. But, all the same, you cannot have that box—at least from - my hands. It belongs to Mrs. Ilam; she evidently treasures it highly. I - put it under her pillow to satisfy her. Mrs. Ilam is helpless, and I am in - charge of her. You must go, I repeat—and at once. We have talked too - much.” - </p> - <p> - “Suppose I take it by force?” suggested the man. - </p> - <p> - “You would never dare,” said Pauline angrily, and she rushed again to the - bell. “If you attempt to take it I will ring the bell, and I will hold you - till some one comes, even if I die for it.” - </p> - <p> - “Mad creature!” he exclaimed acidly. “I could kill you. It is almost worth - while; but I won’t. You tell me to go, and I go; but my resources are not - yet exhausted. Good-night. I can’t leave without expressing the opinion - that you’ve got both sense and grit, and plenty of both. But you’ve made a - mistake to-night. Good-bye.” - </p> - <p> - And while she stood with her hand on the bell-push Mr. Jetsam passed very - calmly out of the window, and the curtain fell in front of him and hid - him. - </p> - <p> - It was the most curious adventure of Pauline’s life, which, indeed, had - hitherto been entirely free from the unusual and the mysterious. After a - short period of hesitation she went to the window, drew aside the curtain - boldly, and looked out into the night of the City. There was no sign of - her late visitor, but the ladder rested against the balcony, a proof of - his recent presence; otherwise, she might have persuaded herself that what - she had been through was a dream. She shut the window and bolted it, and - came back into the room. The old woman, with her dark burning eyes staring - always at the same spot on the ceiling, seemed now somewhat easier. - Pauline gazed at her, and, after having stirred the fire, lay down again - on the couch. - </p> - <p> - And as she closed her eyes, the strange enigma of Mrs. Ilam and her son - and the nocturnal visitant filled her mind with distracting and futile - thoughts. Who was this grey-haired man, at once so masterful, so - dignified, and so desperate? What could be the justice that he demanded? - what the contents of the lacquered box? She would have a real good talk - with Rosie in the morning. That prospect comforted her. Rosie—Rosie—— - Suddenly she started, and gradually she perceived that she had been asleep - a long time—two hours, perhaps—and that something, some - presence, had wakened her. Looking round, she noticed that the door, which - had been closed, was now open. - </p> - <p> - She jumped up and went out of the room to the passage, but she could - neither see nor hear anything. Then, as her eyes became accustomed to the - obscurity, she detected a very faint, thin pencil of light at the other - end of the passage, and on approaching it she found that it came from her - sister’s room. She crept forward, pushed open the door and went in. Rosie, - fully dressed, was sitting on a chair near the window, which was not quite - closed, and her face was hidden in her hands, and she appeared to be - crying. - </p> - <p> - “Rosie,” exclaimed Pauline, “whatever’s the matter? Why aren’t you in bed - and asleep?” - </p> - <p> - And Rosie subsided into her sister’s arms, weeping violently. - </p> - <p> - “I haven’t been to bed at all,” she said at last. “I’ve never slept in a - room with a balcony before, and I couldn’t resist going out on to this - balcony to see how beautiful the night was. And I began to think what a - splendid time we were having, and I watched the stars, and I heard the - clock strike in the tower over there, and the gardens looked so beautiful - in the starlight, and a long, long time must have passed. And then I saw a - man standing under my window. He was a man dressed in blue, with grey - hair, and he began to talk to me.” - </p> - <p> - “And why didn’t you tell him to go away, my dear?” - </p> - <p> - “He seemed so sad, and he said such interesting things. Pauline, darling, - there’s something very, very wrong in this house—some mystery! He - told me. No one could help believing what he says, and he has such a - beautiful voice. I cried, almost, in listening to him.” - </p> - <p> - “But who was he?” - </p> - <p> - “I think he must be some relative,” said Rosie. “I think so. He didn’t - say. What he did say was that there was a black box which it was - absolutely necessary he must have. Oh, Pauline, I’m sure he isn’t a thief! - He’s a man who has suffered a great deal, and he asked me to get the box - for him, and his face was so sad—well, I said I would. And he told - me exactly where it was.” - </p> - <p> - “Where did he say it was?” - </p> - <p> - “He said it was under Mrs. Ilam’s pillow; and it was, true enough.” - </p> - <p> - “How do you know?” cried Pauline, aghast. - </p> - <p> - “I crept into your room, and lifted Mrs. Ilam’s head, and took the box. - You were fast asleep. He asked me to see if you were asleep, and, if you - were, not to wake you. So I came as quietly as a mouse.” - </p> - <p> - “And you obeyed him like that?” murmured Pauline, astounded. - </p> - <p> - “I couldn’t help it. I felt so sorry for him. And his voice was so——” - </p> - <p> - “Rosie!” said Pauline. “You used to be sensible enough!” - </p> - <p> - “I couldn’t help it!” moaned Rosie again. - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0018" id="link2HCH0018"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER XVIII—An Arrangement for a Marriage - </h2> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">J</span>uliette D’Avray - had a small sitting-room of her own in the Carpentaria bungalow. It was on - the first floor, and it looked west, whereas Carpentaria’s study and - bedroom both looked north, on the avenue. Three days after the affair of - the black box, Carpentaria ran hastily up the stairs of his house and - touched the knob of the door of Juliette’s sitting-room, and then he drew - back his hand, nervous and hesitant. He was evidently perturbed, and he - pulled his fine beard in a series of quick twitches, and then he rapped - smartly on the door and coughed. - </p> - <p> - “Juliette!” he cried. He was very much surprised to discover that he had - not got complete control of his voice. It broke in the middle of his - half-sister’s name. “I must do better than this,” he thought, trying to - command himself. - </p> - <p> - There was a pause. - </p> - <p> - “Juliette!” he cried again, more firmly. - </p> - <p> - The word was scarcely out of his mouth when the door opened wide, and - Juliette stood before him. They gazed at each other for a fraction of a - second, as if inimically. - </p> - <p> - “Why don’t you come in, Carlos?” she murmured softly, and her eyes fell, - “instead of knocking and making such a noise. What’s the matter?” - </p> - <p> - Carpentaria was certainly astonished at the nature and tone of her remark. - She seemed to wish to run away. Then he gathered himself together, with an - immense show of force, as a man will when confronted by a woman who is - helpless before him, but of whom he is afraid. - </p> - <p> - “I don’t want to come in,” he said. - </p> - <p> - “Why?” she demanded. - </p> - <p> - “You know why,” he said. - </p> - <p> - “Indeed I don’t,” she asserted; and she laughed—a curt laugh. - </p> - <p> - “You promised me you wouldn’t see Ilam again at present,” said Carpentaria - stoutly. - </p> - <p> - Juliette tossed ever so little her charming head, with its admirable - coiffure. - </p> - <p> - “I did,” she admitted. - </p> - <p> - “Well,” said Carpentaria, “he is at this moment in the sitting-room.” - </p> - <p> - Juliette’s dainty nostrils began to dilate. - </p> - <p> - “Carlos,” she said disdainfully, “do you know what you are saying? To me! - Mr. Ilam is not here. I have already asked you to come in!” - </p> - <p> - “Yes,” said Carpentaria, “but you don’t make way for me. You keep well in - the doorway, Juliette!” - </p> - <p> - She moved aside with a gesture of the finest feminine scorn. - </p> - <p> - “Is there space for you to enter?” she said, bitterly sarcastic. - </p> - <p> - Carpentaria stepped forward one pace. His foot was on the door-mat. - </p> - <p> - “Stop a moment, Carlos,” she said warningly, lifting her arm. “I repeat - that Mr. Ilam is not here. I cannot imagine what put the idea into your - head. But whatever put it in, let me advise you to put it out again at - once. Under the circumstances, if you come into this room, now that I have - distinctly told you that Mr. Ilam is not here, it will be equivalent to - calling me a liar. I could not suffer that, even from you, Carlos. I - should leave you. We should quarrel for ever. Think what you are doing.” - </p> - <p> - Tears stood in her eyes. - </p> - <p> - Carpentaria shuffled his feet in an agony of uncertainty. - </p> - <p> - “Come in if you doubt me,” Juliette continued. “But if you do, it will be - the end.” - </p> - <p> - Carpentaria turned slowly away, and passed down the corridor. - </p> - <p> - “Of course I don’t doubt you,” he called out. - </p> - <p> - Juliette made no response. She waited till her half-brother had descended - the stairs, then she shut the door quietly, and ran to the Louis Quinze - sofa, with its gilded borders, that stood a little way from the window. - </p> - <p> - “You can come out,” she whispered. - </p> - <p> - And from behind the sofa emerged the bulky form of Josephus Ilam. - </p> - <p> - “Great heavens!” he muttered, searching in his pocket for a handkerchief. - </p> - <p> - Juliette sat down on a chair and burst into tears. The contrast between - their two handkerchiefs—Ham’s enormous, like himself, and Juliette’s - a fragment of lace no larger than a piece of bread-and-butter—was - one of those trifles which put an edge of the comical on the tragic stuff - of life. - </p> - <p> - “You are an astounding woman!” exclaimed Ilam, wiping his brow. - </p> - <p> - “I have lied to him—I have deceived him. You heard what I said?” - whimpered Juliette. - </p> - <p> - “You behaved superbly,” said Ilam. - </p> - <p> - “I behaved shamefully,” said the woman. “But I did it for you!” - </p> - <p> - And she looked at him over her handkerchief, with wet eyelashes. - </p> - <p> - Ilam would have gone through unutterable torture for her in that moment. - It was a highly strange thing—this late coming of love into the - existence of Josephus Ilam. It transformed him. It made him feel that, at - fifty, he was only just beginning to grasp the meaning of life. It made - him see that hitherto his days and his years had been wasted on vain - things, and that the only commodity really worth having in this world was - such a look as Juliette gave him out of her impassioned eyes. He could not - understand what so bewitching and lively a woman as Juliette could see in - a heavy, gloomy fellow like him. For the matter of that, probably no other - person, save only Juliette, could understand that mystery. But then, when - a woman loves a man, she sees him in a radiance shed from her own soul, - and it changes him. - </p> - <p> - “My poor friend,” said Juliette, composing herself, “why do you put me in - such an awkward position, coming upstairs like this, and in the middle of - the day, too? You must have bribed one of the servants.” - </p> - <p> - “I did,” said Ilam. - </p> - <p> - “Well, don’t tell me which,” Juliette put in quickly. - </p> - <p> - He bent down and kissed her. Yes, this heavy and rather creaky person, who - had laughed at love for several decades, bent down and kissed a pretty - woman sitting on a Louis Quinze sofa; moreover, he put his arms round her. - He did it clumsily, of course, but Juliette did not think so. - </p> - <p> - “I was obliged to see you,” he told her. “I couldn’t go without seeing - you. Why have you so persistently kept out of my way? You were so kind - that morning—when Carpentaria surprised you. Has he been bullying - you?” - </p> - <p> - “Ah!” exclaimed Juliette, suddenly excited. “I cannot tell you what he - said to me. You know I love him best in the world—next to—you. - But he said such things to me—such things!” - </p> - <p> - “He said—oh, my dearest!—he said his life was not safe—he - said no one’s life was safe in this City—he said he had been shot at - in the bandstand; and, you know, that business of the milk was dreadful. - The strange thing is that Carlos won’t consult the police about it.” - </p> - <p> - “But how does this affect us—affect you and me?” demanded Ilam - bravely. - </p> - <p> - “Dearest,” said Juliette, “poor Carlos thinks—he actually thinks——” - </p> - <p> - “That I am trying to kill him?” - </p> - <p> - “He thinks you have something to do with it.” - </p> - <p> - “But why? Why should I want to kill your brother—your brother?” - </p> - <p> - “Yes, indeed!” agreed Juliette. “And why should you want to kill anybody’s - brother?” she added. - </p> - <p> - “Of course,” he said hastily. “Why should I want to kill any person at - all?” - </p> - <p> - “Carlos says that he is not the only person you have tried to kill.” - </p> - <p> - “Ha! And who is the other? Give me the full catalogue.” - </p> - <p> - “I don’t know. He says you have buried a man in the grounds, and that he - saw you do it.” - </p> - <p> - “Juliette!” Ilam stepped backwards. Then he stopped. “Juliette,” he - repeated, “I swear to you most solemnly that I have never tried to kill - anyone.” - </p> - <p> - “Dearest, you shouldn’t have said that!” she remonstrated. “You shouldn’t - have sworn to me. It is an insult to my love. Do you imagine that I - believed Carlos for a single instant? Do you imagine it?” - </p> - <p> - She looked at him proudly, gloriously. - </p> - <p> - “How splendid you are!” muttered Josephus Ilam, son of the soda-water - manufacturer. The admiration was drawn out of him. He had not guessed that - women could be so fine. And then he perceived that he, too, must be - splendid, that he must be worthy of her; and so he proceeded: - “Nevertheless, it is true that I did bury a man in the grounds a few - nights ago.” - </p> - <p> - The perspiration stood afresh on his brow as he made the confession. - </p> - <p> - “You!” she murmured. - </p> - <p> - “I thought he was dead,” said Ilam, speaking quickly. “I thought I should - be accused of his murder. And so I—the fact is, I was mad. I was off - my head. I must have been. Until yesterday I actually fancied I was being - haunted by his ghost. Yes! me! me—thinking a thing like that! But I - did; and yesterday I was in that big crush, during the shower, in the - Court of the Exposition Palace, and he, too, was in the crowd. I saw him; - I touched him; he didn’t see me, thank Heaven! Then I knew that what I had - buried was not a corpse.” - </p> - <p> - “Who is this man?” asked Juliette calmly. - </p> - <p> - “My angel!” said Ilam, driven to poetry by the stress of his emotion, “you - mustn’t inquire; there are some things I can’t tell you—at least, - not yet. When we are married, when matters are settled a bit, I will tell - you everything, but not now.” - </p> - <p> - “Why not now?” she persisted. - </p> - <p> - “Look here,” he said, “if you persist I shall simply go and kill myself.” - </p> - <p> - She paused. - </p> - <p> - “My friend,” she resumed, “you do not love me as much as I love you. The - measure of love is trust, and you do not trust me completely.” - </p> - <p> - “I love you in my way,” said Ilam doggedly; “men are not like women.” - </p> - <p> - “That is true,” she admitted philosophically. - </p> - <p> - “I would tell you everything if I was free to do so,” he said. - </p> - <p> - “Dearest”—she addressed him in quite a new tone—“you know - something about those attacks on Carlos’ life.” - </p> - <p> - She spoke with an air of absolute certainty. - </p> - <p> - “I have had nothing to do with them,” he said. - </p> - <p> - “But you know something about them.” - </p> - <p> - “Why do you think so?” - </p> - <p> - “I can tell from your manner,” she said triumphantly. - </p> - <p> - “I know nothing for certain, nothing precise,” said Ilam—“nothing - that I can tell you—nothing that I dare tell you.” - </p> - <p> - “Dearest,” she remarked, with a faint acidity, “it seems to me that you - have come here to-day in order not to tell me things.” - </p> - <p> - He deprecated her tone with an appealing gesture. - </p> - <p> - “I can tell you, at any rate, this,” he said, “that your brother’s life is - no longer in danger—of that I am sure.” - </p> - <p> - “You are atoning,” she smiled. - </p> - <p> - “Which is more than can be said of my life,” Ilam proceeded, not heeding - her smile. - </p> - <p> - “Your life is in danger?” she questioned, rushing to him as though she - would protect him. - </p> - <p> - Ilam, without a word, led her to the window, from the corner of which a - glimpse of the avenue could be caught, and walking to and fro there in the - avenue was the Soudanese. - </p> - <p> - “You see that man?” said Ilam. “It’s the fellow they call ‘Spats’ in the - native village. I don’t know why. He is devoted to me; he is fully armed; - he follows me everywhere. I have only to blow this whistle”—and Ilam - produced a whistle from his pocket. - </p> - <p> - “Darling”—and Juliette clung to him—“is it so bad as that? Who - is it that threatens you?” - </p> - <p> - “The man that I buried,” said Ilam quietly. - </p> - <p> - “But what are you going to do?” - </p> - <p> - “Well,” said Ilam, “I’m come here to see you. We must get your brother on - our side.” - </p> - <p> - “I’ll force him to understand at once,” cried Juliette. - </p> - <p> - “No,” said Ilam, “perhaps you would fail, as things are, but if you were - my wife, you would not fail then. Carpentaria, once the thing was done, - would do everything in his power to protect your husband; he likes you - well enough for that. He might be angry at first, but he would see - reason.” - </p> - <p> - “Dearest, you want me to marry you secretly?” - </p> - <p> - “I merely want you to go with me to the registry office at Putney.” - </p> - <p> - “Is that what you came for?” - </p> - <p> - “That is what I came for.” - </p> - <p> - “My love!” she murmured. - </p> - <p> - Yet, with that cold and penetrating insight which women have, she saw - clearly that, though Ilam’s idea of getting Carpentaria’s assistance in a - moment of grave danger was doubtless quite serious, it was somewhat - fanciful, and that Ilam’s professed reason for their instant marriage was - also fanciful, and was not a real reason, but only an excuse. He merely - wanted to marry her at once, that was all, and although his life was - threatened, he thought little of that. She loved him the more. - </p> - <p> - “I can make the arrangements pretty quick,” said Ilam. “You will agree, my - angel?” - </p> - <p> - And she nodded, and the compact was sealed. They heard a scurrying in the - passages of the house. - </p> - <p> - “Juliette! Juliette!” - </p> - <p> - It was Carpentaria’s voice, and other voices mingled with it indistinctly—the - voices of the servants. “Yes!” she answered loudly and, whispering to - Ilam, “Get out of the window; whistle softly for your Soudanese. You can - get on to the roof of the outhouse. He will help you.” - </p> - <p> - And noiselessly she opened the window, and Ilam, struck by her tremendous - resourcefulness, passed out. She heard his low whistle, and then she ran - to the door and into the passage. - </p> - <p> - “The house is on fire,” said Carpentaria, meeting her. - </p> - <p> - “Is it?” she answered calmly. “Are the firemen come? where’s the fire?”—She - sniffed—“Yes,” she said, “I can smell it.” - </p> - <p> - She was amazingly calm. “No woman with a man concealed in her - sitting-room,” said Carpentaria to himself, “could behave so calmly upon - being informed that the house was on fire. Her first thought would have - been to secure the hidden man’s safety.” And Carpentaria ran downstairs - with a great show of activity. He was baffled, disappointed, for he had - deliberately set fire to his own house in order to drive Ilam from the - sitting-room, where he felt sure Ilam was. And the trick had failed. After - all, he had been mistaken. He had been convinced of his sister’s - deception, and lo! she had not deceived him. Carpentaria could have killed - himself. - </p> - <p> - Happily the fire was of no importance, and it was extinguished before it - had done more than about five pounds’ worth of damage and alarmed more - than about five thousand visitors to the City. - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0019" id="link2HCH0019"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER XIX—The Heart of the City - </h2> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">T</span>he situation of - the heart of the City was one of the secrets of the City. It was not - located, perhaps, exactly where you might have expected it to be, and for - a very good reason. The magnificent building which housed the managerial, - clerical, and inspectorial staff of the City was near the south end of the - Central Way. It comprised four floors, and more than a hundred clerks - spent seven hours a day there. On the first floor was the President’s - Parlour, where Ilam held consultations with Carpentaria and with the heads - of departments, from the department of catering to the department of - road-cleaning. On the floor above was the Manager’s and Musical Director’s - Parlour, where the august Carpentaria held consultations with Ilam and - with the heads of other departments, from that of music, with its - subsections (a) open-air bands, (b) theatre and other bands, (c) - restaurant bands, (d) vocal music, (e) pianolas, gramophones, and - mechanical orchestras, to the procession and fêtes department. But the - heart of the City was nowhere in this building. - </p> - <p> - There were also scattered about the immense grounds, various other - executive buildings of a smaller size, where sectional managers, viceroys - of Ilam and Carpentaria, held their mimic sway. But the heart of the City - was not in any of these, either. - </p> - <p> - Very few persons, even among those on the salary-list of the City, did - know where the heart was; for it was not talked about. Talking about it - was discouraged; the hearts of such places are never talked about. And it - is a most singular thing that visitors to the City scarcely gave a thought - to the question of the situation of the heart of the City. The most - interesting of all the many secrets of the City seldom aroused public - curiosity, so strange is the public. - </p> - <p> - The heart of the City, as I propose to reveal, was situated beneath the - Storytellers’ Hall, near the northern end of the Central Way, on your left - hand as you passed down from the north entrance-gates. The Storytellers’ - Hall was an invention of Carpentaria’s—one of his best. Between two - o’clock and four, between five o’clock and seven, and between half-past - eight and closing-time you could pay sixpence to go into the Storytellers’ - Hall and listen to a succession of American and Irish and English - performers, whose sole business it was to sit in an armchair on the - diminutive stage and tell funny stories. The entertainment consisted in - nothing else. It was the simplest thing in the world, and yet one of the - completest successes of the City. It was a success from the very first - hour of its existence. The little hall was nearly always crowded, chiefly - by men. One is bound to admit that women were not enchanted by it; either - they laughed in the wrong places, or they turned to their husbands, - sweethearts, uncles, nephews, at the end of the story, and asked if that - really was the end of the story, and, if it was, would their husbands, - sweethearts, uncles, nephews kindly explain the joke to them. - </p> - <p> - Well, the heart of the City was beneath that gay and mirthful structure. - While storytellers told stories above the level of the ground, the most - serious business of the City was being transacted a few feet away, below - the level of the ground. Let me explain. - </p> - <p> - Take an average intelligent visitor to the City. He approaches, say, the - northern entrance, and among the twenty patent turnstiles which confront - him he chooses the nearest one that is empty. He puts a shilling on the - iron table of the turnstile; an official in the livery of the City - scrutinizes the coin to make sure that it is what it pretends to be, and - then pushes it down a little hole. The shilling disappears—not only - from the sight, but from the thoughts of the visitor. - </p> - <p> - It is a highly remarkable fact—as he squeezes through the turnstile - he actually forgets all about his shilling, forgets it for evermore! - </p> - <p> - Yet shillings are being poured in a continuous stream into the mouth of - that turnstile and into the mouths of scores of similar turnstiles, all - day. What becomes of them? Surely this question ought to interest the - average intelligent visitor! What becomes of them? The turnstiles won’t - hold an unlimited number of shillings; nevertheless, shillings are falling - into them eternally and they are never emptied; they are never even moved; - they could not be moved, since they are imbedded in concrete. Here <i>is</i> - a puzzle for the average intelligent visitor. - </p> - <p> - It will occur to anyone that when four hundred thousand people have each - paid a shilling entrance, quite a nice little lot of money must have - accumulated somewhere in the City by nightfall; for, besides the entrance - shillings, there is the vast expenditure of the visitors after they have - entered. - </p> - <p> - The nice little bit of money runs to the heart of the City. That is what - the heart of the City is for; that is why it is called the heart. - </p> - <p> - Now, the heart was a long, wide, and low apartment, lighted by - electricity, and lined with concrete. In the centre, its top level with - the floor, was a huge safe, which by hydraulic power could be raised till - its top was nearly level with the ceiling, and its doors bared to the - persuasions of keys. Round about were large wooden tables, furnished with - large and small balances, copper scoops, bags, and steel coffers. A few - chairs completed the apparatus of the apartment. - </p> - <p> - The shillings of the clients of the City dropped through the mouths of the - turnstiles right down to a small subterranean chamber, which could only be - reached from a tunnel beneath each entrance. Thus, the officials in charge - of the turnstiles had no control whatever over the coins once they had - been slipped into the orifices. The coins were checked and collected by an - entirely separate set of officials, who visited the underground chambers - every three hours and brought back the booty, enclosed in coffers, in - specially constructed insignificant-looking carriages, to the solitary - door of the heart. And the door of the heart was by no means in the - Central Way; it gave on a back entry running parallel to the Way and just - wide enough to permit the passage of one carriage. The coffers were - received, and receipted for, by an official of the heart, and handed by - him into the interior. Neither he nor the collectors were ever allowed to - enter the heart. - </p> - <p> - On the evening of the day of the secret interview between Juliette and - Ilam, the inconspicuous door of the heart was guarded, not by its usual - official, but by a tall Soudanese, and waiting close to him was an - automobile with chauffeur on board. The automobile was one of several - employed specially to transport the riches of the City to the head offices - of the London and West-End Bank in King William Street. The journeys were - made at night, twice a week, and the offices of the London and West-End - were specially opened to receive the coin. Automobiles laden with vast - wealth are less apt to be remarked when they travel at night. - </p> - <p> - Within the heart itself were three people—Ilam; a middle-aged man - named Gloucester, who spent all his days in counting and weighing gold and - silver, and who was the presiding genius of the heart; and, thirdly, a - clerk from the London and West-End Bank. - </p> - <p> - Gloucester was weighing sovereigns, the clerk was counting coffers and - piling them up in a corner near the door, and Ilam was idly inspecting the - doors of the huge safe, which had been raised out of its well and stood - open and empty. - </p> - <p> - During that day and the previous two days, what with a monster Y.M.C.A. - fête then in progress, and what with the weather, over a million shillings - had been taken at the turnstiles. Now, a new shilling weighs eighty-seven - grains, and about seven thousand average current shillings go to the - hundredweight. A million shillings, or fifty thousand pounds in silver, - will weigh, therefore, something like seven tons. Nearly the whole of this - treasure had already started on its way to the famous vaults of the London - and West-End Bank; only a few coffers remained. But there was, in - addition, about ten thousand pounds in gold, which weighed about a couple - of hundredweight, and it was chiefly for this gold that the last - automobile was waiting. - </p> - <p> - “Seven coffers of silver, Mr. Gloucester,” said the clerk; “two of gold.” - </p> - <p> - “I shall be ready with the others in a few minutes,” replied Mr. - Gloucester. - </p> - <p> - “Then I’ll be making out the check-sheets,” said the clerk. - </p> - <p> - “Do so,” said Mr. Gloucester, who was a formal old person, and wore - steel-rimmed spectacles. And he continued his weighing of the gold. - </p> - <p> - At this interesting and dazzling juncture, the unique door of the - apartment, an affair of solid Bessemer steel, swung slowly on its hinges, - and disclosed the figure of a man in a blue suit, with grey hair under his - soft hat. Mr. Gloucester, being just a little short-sighted and just a - little hard of hearing, neither saw nor heard the visitor. Nor did Mr. - Ilam, who was actually within the safe, measuring its-shelves. But the - bank-clerk, who was quite close to the door, most decidedly did see the - man. And the clerk started, whether with fear, surprise, or mere - nervousness, will probably never be known. - </p> - <p> - The man shut the door. - </p> - <p> - “What——” began the clerk. - </p> - <p> - “Go to the other end of the room,” said the man commandingly. - </p> - <p> - “Mr. Ilam!” the clerk called out respectfully, alarmed. - </p> - <p> - “Go to the other end of the room,” repeated the man.’ - </p> - <p> - The clerk perceived then that he had a revolver. Mr. Gloucester also - perceived the man and his revolver, and Mr. Ilam came out of the safe - rather like a jack out of a box. - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0020" id="link2HCH0020"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER XX—What Jetsam Wanted - </h2> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">H</span>ullo, Jos! said - the intruder in a light, careless and rather scornful tone. - </p> - <p> - It was a stroke of genius on his part to address Mr. Ilam as “Jos.” That - curt and familiar monosyllable, directed like a bullet at the formidable - Ilam, the august President of the City, made such an impression upon both - Mr. Gloucester and the L. and W. E. Bank-clerk that they took no part - whatever in the immediately subsequent proceedings. They were astounded - into silence. They trembled lest lightning should descend and utterly - destroy the intruder. - </p> - <p> - And Ilam himself was plainly at a loss. He was about to say to the - intruder: “You have no right to speak to me in such a way,” and to order - him out of the place, when the ridiculousness of protesting and the - futility of ordering presented themselves vividly to his mind. - </p> - <p> - Besides, there was the revolver. - </p> - <p> - So Mr. Ilam said merely, in a sort of pained surprise: - </p> - <p> - “Jetsam!” - </p> - <p> - “Exactly,” said Jetsam. - </p> - <p> - And the imperturbable fellow, with his grey hair and his shabby suit and - his weary eyes, nonchalantly sat down on the edge of one of the - counting-tables, his legs dangling, and his body leaning forward. - </p> - <p> - The two employés were by this time convinced that the new-comer must be - either the Shah of Persia in disguise, or else some extremely intimate and - life-long friend of Ilam’s, perhaps richer than Ilam himself. The - bank-clerk knew by sight several chairmen of banks who were quite as badly - dressed as the man on the table. Nevertheless, they did not carry - revolvers. The revolver was certainly rather disquieting. However, they - bent to their work, as though both eyes of the Recording Angel were upon - them. - </p> - <p> - Ilam closed the door of the safe. - </p> - <p> - “The doorkeeper let you pass?” he ventured. - </p> - <p> - “No, not at all,” replied Jetsam. - </p> - <p> - “He isn’t at his post?” - </p> - <p> - “Not just at the moment. I’ve had him removed for a bit. He’ll doubtless - return as soon as I’ve gone. I thought it would be simpler to have my own - doorkeeper.” - </p> - <p> - “What did the Soudanese say, though?” - </p> - <p> - “Which Soudanese?” - </p> - <p> - “The Soudanese who is outside the door.” - </p> - <p> - “Oh, him? He didn’t say anything.” - </p> - <p> - “This is a serious breach of rules for you to be here, you know,” said - Ilam. “And I must ask you to go.” - </p> - <p> - “I really can’t go just yet,” said Jetsam. - </p> - <p> - “What are you doing here?” - </p> - <p> - “Nothing,” said Jetsam; “except nursing this revolver. I’m going to do - something soon.” - </p> - <p> - Both the bank-clerk and Mr. Gloucester looked up. They even went so far as - to glance at their employer for instructions; but their employer seemed to - avoid the eyes of the underlings. Then Mr. Gloucester spoke in a low tone - to the clerk, and the clerk replied, and some bags of gold were bundled - into a coffer and the coffer locked and double-locked, and the bank-clerk - murmured respectfully: - </p> - <p> - “These are the lot, sir. Shall I take them and go?” - </p> - <p> - “Yes,” said Ilam. - </p> - <p> - “Will you help me?” said the clerk to Mr. Gloucester. - </p> - <p> - “Yes,” said Mr. Gloucester. - </p> - <p> - And Mr. Gloucester and the clerk each picked up several coffers. - </p> - <p> - “Good-night, sir,” said the clerk. - </p> - <p> - “Good-night,” said Ilam. - </p> - <p> - “Stop that!” Jetsam exclaimed, turning his head slowly behind him to - follow the movements of the pair. - </p> - <p> - “I beg pardon?” murmured the clerk interrogatively. - </p> - <p> - “I thought I told you to go to the other end of the room,” thundered - Jetsam. - </p> - <p> - “But Mr. Ilam——” - </p> - <p> - “Go to the other end of the room, up there at that corner,” Jetsam - commanded sternly, adding, “or I’ll blow your idiotic brains out! Do you - hear?” - </p> - <p> - The clerk was in love with a girl who lived with her mother in a pretty - little semi-detached villa at Weybridge. He thought of her; he thought of - all the evenings he had spent with her; he conjured her up in all her - different dresses; he heard her voice in all its tones—and all this - in the fraction of a second. Then he put down the boxes and discreetly - betook himself to the corner indicated by Mr. Jetsam, thinking obscurely - and slangily that to be a bank-clerk was not all jam. - </p> - <p> - “And you, too!” ordered Jetsam, raising a finger to Mr. Gloucester. - </p> - <p> - Mr. Gloucester was not in love with a charming young thing at Weybridge. - He never had been in love; he had never lived with anyone except himself - and a bull-terrier; but he was fond of playing chess at night at - Simpson’s; and he suddenly saw Simpson’s and the chess-boards, and the - foamy quart, and the bull-terrier lying under the table. Life and - Simpson’s seemed infinitely precious to him in those instants. And he put - down his boxes and followed the bank-clerk to the suggested corner. - </p> - <p> - “I must really——” he began protestingly. - </p> - <p> - “Silence!” exploded Mr. Jetsam; and there was silence. - </p> - <p> - You must picture the large, low room, with its concrete lining and its - half-dozen sixteen candle-power electric lights burning in the ceiling; - and underneath these lights the four men—Ilam leaning against the - gigantic safe which rose out of the floor in the middle of the apartment; - Jetsam still nonchalantly swinging his legs as he sat on the table, facing - him directly; and the democracy, somewhat scared and undecided, in a - corner. Jetsam had his back to the door, and since the two piles of - coffers were near the door they were out of his field of vision. - </p> - <p> - Jetsam winked at Ilam—deliberately winked at him. - </p> - <p> - “Simple as a, b, c, isn’t it?” he pleasantly remarked. - </p> - <p> - “What?” demanded Ilam. - </p> - <p> - “What I’m doing now—holding up a strong room and its staff.” - </p> - <p> - “You’ll suffer for this,” said Ilam. - </p> - <p> - “That remains to be seen,” was the reply. “I gravely doubt if I shall - suffer for it. Up to now, what have I done? I have asked those gentlemen - to go into a corner and not to indulge in desultory and disturbing - conversation; and they have been good enough to humour my caprice; and I - have winked at you, Jos. Is there anything illegal in winking at you? A - few days ago you did more than wink at me—you nearly killed me!” - </p> - <p> - “I must go,” said Ilam. “I have an appointment—I——” - </p> - <p> - He moved slightly. - </p> - <p> - “Let me advise you not to move,” Jetsam warned him, raising the revolver - an inch or so. “It mightn’t be very good for your constitution. You must - grasp, the fact that you are being held up. A worn-out operation, you will - say—a trick lacking in novelty! Yes; but one, nevertheless, based on - the fundamental human instincts, and therefore pretty certain to succeed. - Indeed, I am surprised how simple it is. You might fancy from my easy - bearing that I had devoted a lifetime to holding people up. Not in the - least. I have never held anyone up before. And yet, how well I am - succeeding! The thing works like a charm; merely because you can see in my - eye that I mean to be obeyed.” - </p> - <p> - “I suppose you want money?” said Ilam savagely. - </p> - <p> - “I don’t want impudence!” retorted Jetsam. “Apologize, if you please, my - friend!” - </p> - <p> - “What have I said?” - </p> - <p> - “It isn’t what you said—it’s your manner of saying it that was - unworthy of you. You mean to apologize for wounding my feelings, don’t - you?” Jetsam smiled. “No, don’t move; merely express your regret!” - </p> - <p> - “I’m sorry,” muttered Ilam. - </p> - <p> - “There—you see!” cried Jetsam to the men in the corner. “Let that be - a lesson to you. And remember, that only great men like Mr. Ilam have - sufficient moral force, when they are in the wrong, to admit the fact. - Well, Jos, I accept your apology in the cheerful and generous spirit in - which you offer it; and I shall not deny that I do want money. That is - part of what I came for.” - </p> - <p> - “How much do you want?” asked Ilam. - </p> - <p> - “Well,” said Jetsam. “How much have you got handy?” - </p> - <p> - Mr. Ilam intimated that there was a small sum in gold. - </p> - <p> - “A thousand in gold?” queried Jetsam. - </p> - <p> - Ilam nodded. - </p> - <p> - “Probably more,” Jetsam commented. “But a thousand will suffice me. If I - need a fresh supply I can always come again, can’t I? And besides, all - that is yours is mine, eh?” - </p> - <p> - Ilam maintained silence. - </p> - <p> - “Eh?” repeated Jetsam persuasively. - </p> - <p> - “Yes,” growled Ilam, and his eye caught the eye of the young bank-clerk by - pure accident. - </p> - <p> - At that moment the young bank-clerk, fired by martial valour, a thirst for - glory, and the thought of what a splendid thrilling tale he would have to - tell to the charming young thing at Weybridge, sprang furiously forward in - the direction of Jetsam. - </p> - <p> - “Stop!” said Jetsam, slipping off the table and facing the youth, revolver - ready. - </p> - <p> - The youth hesitated for the fifth of a second. - </p> - <p> - “No,” said the youth, and came on. - </p> - <p> - Jetsam fired almost point-blank at the hero’s face, and the hero started - back and sank to the ground. And there was a great hush in the room and a - smell of powder and a little smoke. The youth lay still. - </p> - <p> - “Get up!” said Jetsam fiercely. “Get up, or I’ll kick you up!” - </p> - <p> - And, strange to relate, the youth discovered the whereabouts of his limbs - and got up, and returned to the corner. - </p> - <p> - “A singular example of what imagination will do!” commented Jetsam. “The - first chamber of this revolver was loaded with blank. I expected to have - to use it for theatrical effect, to begin with, and I was not wrong. Let - me add that the other five chambers are most carefully loaded, and that I - once earned my living in a music-hall by shooting the pips out of cards - with this revolver.” He then addressed Mr. Gloucester. “Now, old man,” he - said, “how much gold is there in one of those boxes?” - </p> - <p> - “Two thousand five hundred!” answered Mr. Gloucester politely. - </p> - <p> - “And it weighs?” - </p> - <p> - “About sixty pounds.” - </p> - <p> - “It isn’t worth while breaking into it,” said Jetsam smoothly, looking at - Ilam. “I’ll take the lot. In our final settlement it shall be brought into - account.” His glance shifted to Gloucester. “Thank you,” he added, “for - this information so courteously given. - </p> - <p> - “Perhaps you are satisfied now!” said Ilam. - </p> - <p> - “Why don’t you go? You think you won’t get caught, but you will.” - </p> - <p> - “Surely, you won’t give me away, Jos!” protested Jetsam. “I’m convinced - you won’t; because you see, if you begin to talk about me I should - probably begin to talk about you, and think how dreadful that would be.” - </p> - <p> - “Keep it up! Keep it up!” said Ilam. - </p> - <p> - “Hence,” Jetsam proceeded, ignoring the interruption, “I shall confidently - rely on you to see that these excellent gentlemen here in the corner keep - their elegant mouths shut. I shall rely on you for that. You understand, - gentlemen, Mr. Ilam wishes you not to prattle, even in the privacy of your - own homes.” - </p> - <p> - “Are you going?” said Ilam doggedly. - </p> - <p> - “Yes,” said Jetsam; “and so are you.” - </p> - <p> - “Me!” - </p> - <p> - “Yes, you. The money is a mere incidental. What I came for was your - distinguished self.” - </p> - <p> - “I’m not coming with you. I haven’t the slightest intention of coming with - you.” - </p> - <p> - “You may not have much intention, but you are coming,” said the suave - Jetsam. “Besides, who is going to carry this box outside for me? I can’t - carry the box and a revolver, too. Obviously Providence has designated - precisely you to carry this box. Come.” - </p> - <p> - “Not I!” Ilam defied him. - </p> - <p> - “Come!” repeated Jetsam. “I have a vehicle awaiting outside, and we shall - see what we shall see.” - </p> - <p> - “No!” insisted Ilam. - </p> - <p> - Mr. Jetsam advanced two paces. - </p> - <p> - “Listen!” said he angrily and yet calmly. “If you don’t come, I’ll shoot - you where you stand. You ought to be able to perceive that I mean what I - say.” - </p> - <p> - Ilam’s reply was a mute surrender. He dropped his eyes, and the next - moment the two underlings had the spectacle of the corpulent Mr. Ilam - lifting a sixty-pound weight and struggling with it to the door, followed - by the revolver and Mr. Jetsam behind the revolver. - </p> - <p> - “Stop in the doorway a second,” ordered Jetsam. He addressed the clerks - again. “If I were you, I shouldn’t hurry out of here. You might catch - cold.” - </p> - <p> - And then they saw Ilam disappear, the box in his arms, and Mr. Jetsam - follow him. Mr. Jetsam closed the door. The clerks were alone. - </p> - <p> - “Well, of all the——!” exclaimed the younger man. - </p> - <p> - “I wonder how soon it will be safe for us to leave!” said Mr. Gloucester. - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0021" id="link2HCH0021"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER XXI—Interrupting a Concert - </h2> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">T</span>hat evening the - nightly concert of the “Carpentaria Band” was held in the great court of - the Exposition Palace, partly because the weather was threatening, and - partly because the Y.M.C.A. wished it so. The stalwart members of the - Y.M.C.A. were prominent and joyous, and they pervaded the City to the - number of some fifty thousand. They were nearly all young, and they were - all, without exception, enthusiastic. They had taken possession of - practically the whole of the tables on the three tiers of balconies that - surrounded the court, and there was also a considerable sprinkling of them - on the ground floor. They liked Carpentaria; they liked his music; they - liked his way of conducting. They admired him when he split the drums of - their ears, and they equally admired him when he wooed those organs with a - hint of sound that was something less than a whisper. They violently - cheered his marches, and with the same violence they cheered his serenades - and his cradlesongs. - </p> - <p> - Consequently Carpentaria was content. He was more than content—he - glowed with pleasure. He was the centre of the vast illuminated court, - with its ornate architecture, and its wonderful roof, and its serried rows - of lights. All eyes were centred on him. He swayed not only his band, but - the multitude, by a single movement of the slim baton—that magic bit - of ivory which he held in his hand. He said to himself that he had never - had a better, a more appreciative and enthusiastic audience in the whole - of his glorious career. The result was, that-he conducted in his most - variegated and polychromatic manner. He did things with his wand that no - conductor had ever done with a wand before; he performed gyrations, - contortions, and acrobatics beyond all his previous exploits. In a word, - he surpassed himself. - </p> - <p> - He was in the very act of surpassing himself, in his renowned “Cockney - Serenade,” when he observed, out of the tail of his eye, a middle-aged - man, who was forcing his way at all costs across the floor of the hall - towards the bandstand. - </p> - <p> - When seven thousand people are packed on chairs on a single floor, it is - not the quietest task in the world to penetrate through them. And the - middle-aged man was not doing it quietly, in fact, he was making decidedly - more noise than the “Cockney Serenade,” and attracting quite as much - attention. - </p> - <p> - A number of ardently musical young men on the grand balcony leaned over - the wrought-iron parapet and advised the middle-aged man to lie down and - die, in a manner unmistakably ferocious. (It is extraordinary how - ferocious a youth can be on mere lemonade.) But the middle-aged man - continued his course, and he arrived at the bandstand, despite official - and unofficial protests, simultaneously with the conclusion of the - serenade. - </p> - <p> - Gales of applause swept about the court, and Carpentaria bowed, and bowed - again—bowed innumerably, all the time regarding the middle-aged man - with angry and suppressed curiosity. The middle-aged man had lifted up a - hand and pulled the triangle-player by the belt of his magnificent - uniform, and the triangle-player had bent down to speak to him. - </p> - <p> - “What is it? What is it?” asked Carpentaria, his nerves on edge. - </p> - <p> - “A person insists on speaking to you, sir,” replied the triangle-player. - </p> - <p> - “He cannot,” snapped Carpentaria. - </p> - <p> - “He says he shall,” said the triangle-player. - </p> - <p> - “I’ll——” Carpentaria began an anathema, and then stopped. He - went to the rail of the bandstand and leaned over to the middle-aged man. - </p> - <p> - “At your age,” he said grimly, “you ought to know better than to interrupt - my concerts in this way. Who are you? What do you want?” - </p> - <p> - “My name is Gloucester, sir,” was the answer. “Doubtless you recollect.” - </p> - <p> - “I do nothing of the kind,” said Carpentaria. - </p> - <p> - “I’m in charge of the—er——” Here Gloucester stood up on - tiptoe in an endeavour to whisper directly into Carpentaria’s ear—“the - strong-rooms.” - </p> - <p> - “Well,” asked Carpentaria, “what do you want?” - </p> - <p> - “Been robbed, sir.” - </p> - <p> - “Great Heavens, man!” Carpentaria exploded. “You come to interrupt my - concert because the strong-rooms have been robbed!” - </p> - <p> - “Two thousand five hundred pounds, sir.” - </p> - <p> - “I don’t care if it’s two thousand times two thousand five hundred pounds. - Go away! Go and worry Mr. Ilam.” - </p> - <p> - “That’s just it, sir. Mr. Ilam has been taken, too.” - </p> - <p> - By this time the multitudinous eyes of the audience were fixed on - Carpentaria and his interlocutor, and everybody was sapiently saying to - everybody else that something extraordinary must have occurred. - </p> - <p> - “What do you mean—Mr. Ilam been taken?” Carpentaria demanded. - </p> - <p> - “He’s been carried off—he carried the money off—he was forced - to, sir. Revolver, sir. Can’t you come, sir?” - </p> - <p> - “Can I come? Ye gods! Man, do you know what a concert is? Can I come? Of - course I can’t come!” - </p> - <p> - “Mr. Ilam may be dead, sir.” - </p> - <p> - “We shall have leisure to bury him after the concert,” said Carpentaria. - “Go away. Go and consult Lapping, head of the police department. Or, - rather, don’t. You’ll upset the audience making your way out. Sit down. - Sit right down there, and don’t move. We’re going to play my new - arrangement of the ‘Glory Song’ with variations. You’ll see it will bring - the house down. It will be something you’ll remember as long as you live.” - </p> - <p> - “But, sir,” pleaded Mr. Gloucester pathetically. - </p> - <p> - “Sit down—and listen,” Carpentaria repeated sternly. - </p> - <p> - He returned to the centre of his men. He rapped the magic wand on his - desk, and the next moment the band had burst deliriously into the now - famous orchestral arrangement of the “Glory Song.” The audience was - thrilled by the waves of sound that emanated from the instruments, - especially when the variations began. So the entertainment continued, - while Mr. Gloucester, consuming his middle-aged impatience as best he - could, ruminated upon the strange caprices of employers. He had been an - employé all his life; he had never commanded; and his conclusion, at the - age of fifty odd, was to the effect that the nature of employers is - incomprehensible, and that you never know what they will do next. - </p> - <p> - “Excuse me, sir.” He timidly touched Carpentaria when the concert was - over. - </p> - <p> - Carpentaria, it appeared, in the rush and fever of the music, had - forgotten all about him, and was on the point of leaving the court - deafened by applause. - </p> - <p> - “Ah, yes!” said Carpentaria. “That thief. Two thousand five hundred - pounds. And you say that Mr. Ilam has been carried off. Tell me all about - that. Come this way. Come into the street—it is always the most - private place.” - </p> - <p> - And in the Central Way, near the fountain, upon which coloured lights were - reflected from below, Mr. Gloucester related in detail to Carpentaria the - episode of the theft. - </p> - <p> - “You say it was a man dressed in blue, with grey hair?” - </p> - <p> - “Yes, sir.” - </p> - <p> - “And there were three of you, including Mr. Ilam, and you could not manage - to disarm him?” - </p> - <p> - “It might have meant death for the first of us, sir.” - </p> - <p> - “Well,” said Carpentaria absently, “what if it did?” - </p> - <p> - Mr. Gloucester grunted. - </p> - <p> - “You said I was to consult Mr. Lapping, sir. Shall we go there?” - </p> - <p> - “No,” said Carpentaria, “not yet. I will look into it myself first. The - principal mystery is that of the doorkeeper. What is his name?” - </p> - <p> - “Wiggins.” - </p> - <p> - “And he has disappeared?” - </p> - <p> - “He was not there when I left, sir. And he could not have been there when - the thief entered.” - </p> - <p> - “Why not?” - </p> - <p> - “Because he would not have allowed the thief to enter, sir. He has strict - orders.” - </p> - <p> - “Humph! Come along.” - </p> - <p> - They hastened up the Central Way, in a northerly direction. The rain had - kept off, and the illuminations, which were superb, evidently met with the - ecstatic approval of the Y.M.C.A. adherents, who paraded to and fro, and - filled the flying cars, with the hectic enjoyment of people who feel that - closing time is near. The progress made by Carpentaria and his companion - was therefore not of the quickest. - </p> - <p> - “It’s more than an hour since,” said Mr. Gloucester, daring to show his. - discontent. - </p> - <p> - “What is?” asked Carpentaria. - </p> - <p> - “Since the crime occurred.” - </p> - <p> - “The fellow must have calculated on my concert,” replied Carpentaria. “He - probably knew that everybody in this City runs to me when the slightest - thing goes wrong.” - </p> - <p> - “The slightest thing!” repeated Mr. Gloucester bitterly—but not - aloud, only in his secret soul. - </p> - <p> - They hurried round by the side of the Storytellers’ Hall, and so to the - passage at the back. And standing at the entrance to the vaults, - underneath a solitary jet of electric light, was Wiggins, the doorkeeper - of the heart of the City. He was a man aged about thirty-five, six feet - two high, and not quite so broad. - </p> - <p> - “So you’re here!” exclaimed Carpentaria. - </p> - <p> - “Yes, sir.” - </p> - <p> - “Where have you been since—since Mr. Ilam arrived here?” - </p> - <p> - “I did what you told me, sir,” said Wiggins, with an air of independence. - Wiggins was not a Mr. Gloucester. - </p> - <p> - “What was that?” demanded Carpentaria, mystified. - </p> - <p> - “Why, your note, sir.” - </p> - <p> - “What note?” - </p> - <p> - Wiggins pulled a crumpled paper from his pocket and handed it to - Carpentaria, who read: - </p> - <p> - “Come to me in my office at once. If I am not there, wait for me. The - bearer will take your duties meanwhile. - </p> - <p> - “C. Carpentaria.” - </p> - <p> - “Oh!” said Carpentaria. “And who brought this?” - </p> - <p> - “A Soudanese, sir.” - </p> - <p> - “Which Soudanese?” - </p> - <p> - “I don’t know. They’re all alike to me.” - </p> - <p> - “And it didn’t occur to you that this note was forged?” - </p> - <p> - “No, sir. Why should it?” - </p> - <p> - “It didn’t occur to you,” Carpentaria continued, “that I was conducting my - concert, and that therefore I couldn’t possibly be in my office?” - </p> - <p> - “I didn’t know anything about any concert, sir. I’m doorkeeper here——” - </p> - <p> - “Not know about my concert!” cried Carpentaria. Then he calmed himself. - “Mr. Ilam came before the Soudanese brought the note to you?” - </p> - <p> - “Yes, sir, but only a few seconds before. He had but just gone in when the - Soudanese came. I was talking to the driver of the motor-car as was - waiting, sir, here in front of the door.” - </p> - <p> - “Oh. So there was a motor-car?” - </p> - <p> - “Yes, sir. It was one of the City cars. No. 28, sir. To take the money - away, sir.” - </p> - <p> - “Good. Who was the driver? Do you know his name?” - </p> - <p> - “I think his name’s Pratt, sir.” - </p> - <p> - “Then you left immediately and went to my office and waited for me, and - then?” - </p> - <p> - “Then I got tired of waiting and I came back here, sir.” - </p> - <p> - “Good,” said Carpentaria. “Mr. Gloucester, the garage is indicated as our - next resort.” - </p> - <p> - The immense garage of the City was close to the northern entrance gates. - And it, too, was guarded by a doorkeeper, hidden in a little box near the - double-wooden doors. - </p> - <p> - “I want to know if Car No. 28 has come in,” said Carpentaria. - </p> - <p> - “Yes, sir,” was the reply. “Came in twenty minutes ago.” - </p> - <p> - “Did you see it?” - </p> - <p> - “Yes, sir,” said the doorkeeper. - </p> - <p> - “Who was driving it?” - </p> - <p> - “I didn’t notice, sir.” - </p> - <p> - “Show us the car, if you please.” - </p> - <p> - They passed into the desert expanse of the garage, where a few men were - cleaning cars. Car No. 28 was in its place. In shape it was rather like a - police-van, but smaller. Carpentaria noticed that its wheels were very - dirty. - </p> - <p> - “Open it,” said he. - </p> - <p> - The key was found, and the interior of the car exposed to the light of a - lantern. And at the extremity of the car could be seen a vague mass, a - collection of limbs and clothes on the floor. - </p> - <p> - “Get in,” said Carpentaria, “and see what that is.” - </p> - <p> - The next moment two men were dragged out of the car in a state of stupor. - One was the Soudanese entitled “Spats,” who had become Ilam’s bodyguard, - and the other wore the uniform of an automobile driver. - </p> - <p> - “Who is this?” Carpentaria asked. - </p> - <p> - “It looks precious like Pratt, the man as usually drives this car, sir,” - answered the doorkeeper. - </p> - <p> - All the attendants in the place had now gathered round. - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0022" id="link2HCH0022"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER XXII—Carpentaria as Detective - </h2> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">Y</span>ou will now relate - to me, as accurately as you can,” said Carpentaria somewhat peremptorily - to Pratt the chauffeur, “exactly what were the circumstances which led to - your ceasing to be master of your car.” - </p> - <p> - Carpentaria had had Pratt and the Soudanese carried to the strong-room, - the heart of the City, where a chemist and Dr. Rivers had united to treat - them for the effects of the narcotic which had evidently, by some means, - been administered to them. Rivers repeated that, so far as he could judge, - the narcotic employed was chloral hydrate, a drug more powerful than - morphine, more effective in its action on the heart, and less annoying to - other functional parts of the body. When Rivers and the chemist had - finished their ministrations, Carpentaria had politely intimated to them - that he did not absolutely insist on their remaining—a piece of - information which surprised the doctor, who, having been let into one of - his director’s secrets, expected, with the confidence of youth, to be let - into all of them. The three men, two white and one Ethiop, were thus alone - together in the chamber. - </p> - <p> - “Well, sir,” said Pratt, who was a fair man, talkative, with, just at - present, a terrific sense of his own importance as the central hero of a - mysterious drama. “It was like this: After I’d had the drink——” - </p> - <p> - “What drink?” demanded Carpentaria sharply. “The drink the other driver - offered to me, sir.” - </p> - <p> - “What other driver?” - </p> - <p> - “There came up another driver, sir.” - </p> - <p> - “In the City uniform?” - </p> - <p> - “Yes, sir.” - </p> - <p> - “Who was he? What was his name?” - </p> - <p> - “No idea, sir. I seemed to remember his face, like, but I couldn’t - recollect his name. I asked him his name, and he said: ‘Don’t try to be - funny, Pratt; you’ve had a drop too much.’” - </p> - <p> - “And had you?” - </p> - <p> - “Not I, sir—of course I hadn’t. I’d made two journeys to the Bank - with full loads, and the next one was to be the last, and——” - </p> - <p> - “And you hadn’t had anything to drink at all?” - </p> - <p> - “Nothing to speak of, sir. A glass of port at Short’s as I was coming back - the first time, and a pint of beer—or it might have been a pint and - a half—at the Redcliffe as I was coming back the second time.” - </p> - <p> - “That was absolutely all?” - </p> - <p> - “Yes, sir, except a drop of whisky which was left in my flask.” - </p> - <p> - “But how came the other driver to be in a position to offer you drink? Was - he carrying casks and other things about with him?” - </p> - <p> - “No, sir, only a flask. Every chauffeur has a flask. Necessary, sir. Cold - work, sir. And you’ll recollect it hasn’t been exactly sultry to-night.” - </p> - <p> - “What did he say? Are you in the habit of accepting drinks from men whose - names you can’t call to mind?” - </p> - <p> - “He was in the profession, sir, and in the uniform; besides, he said he’d - got a new cordial, fresh from Madeira, that would keep anyone warm, even - in the depth of winter, for at least two hours.” - </p> - <p> - “But this isn’t the depth of winter.” - </p> - <p> - “No, sir; but, as the cordial was handy, I thought I might as well try - it.” - </p> - <p> - “And when you had tried it?” - </p> - <p> - “I felt rather jolly, sir. I never felt better in my life, and thinks I to - myself: ‘I’d better write down the name and address of this cordial before - I forget it.’ So I says: ‘What’s-your-name,’ I says, meaning the other - driver, ‘what’s the name and address of this cordial, before I forget it?’ - And I was just taking a pencil out of my pocket to write it down when I - felt a bit less jolly and the pencil wouldn’t stop in my hand.” - </p> - <p> - “You were on your driving seat?” - </p> - <p> - “Yes, sir.” - </p> - <p> - “And that is all you remember?” - </p> - <p> - “Yes, sir. Except that once, dreamy like, I thought I was in prison for - exceeding the legal limit, and that all the lights in the prison were - turned out, and an earthquake was going on.” - </p> - <p> - “The other driver stood in the road by the car, eh?” - </p> - <p> - “Yes, sir.” - </p> - <p> - “How was he dressed?” - </p> - <p> - “I’ve told you, sir. This uniform. Blue and white cap, same as this, and - long overcoat.” - </p> - <p> - “You couldn’t see what he wore underneath the overcoat?” - </p> - <p> - “No, sir.” - </p> - <p> - “And you?” Carpentaria turned swiftly on the Soudanese. “Did you drink - too?” - </p> - <p> - “Yes, sah.” - </p> - <p> - Spats smiled. - </p> - <p> - “And after you had drunk?” - </p> - <p> - Spats shook his head, still smiling. - </p> - <p> - “You remember nothing?” - </p> - <p> - “Yes, sah.” - </p> - <p> - “What?” - </p> - <p> - “He means he doesn’t remember anything,” Pratt explained. - </p> - <p> - “You mean you remember nothing?” Carpentaria questioned. - </p> - <p> - “Yes, sah.” - </p> - <p> - “Why did you drink?” - </p> - <p> - “Yes, sah.” - </p> - <p> - The Soudanese looked at Pratt, smiling.. “Because Pratt drank?” - </p> - <p> - “Yes, sah.” - </p> - <p> - “You have been waiting on Mr. Ilam lately, haven’t you?” - </p> - <p> - “Yes, sah.” - </p> - <p> - “When he came to the outer door there, and entered in here, did he tell - you to wait outside?” - </p> - <p> - “Yes, sah.” - </p> - <p> - “You can both go,” said Carpentaria. “Come to me at eight o’clock - to-morrow, Pratt, in case I should want you.” - </p> - <p> - “Yes, sir,” said Pratt. “Yes, sah,” said the Soudanese. - </p> - <p> - “No, not you,” Carpentaria explained. - </p> - <p> - “Yes, sah.” - </p> - <p> - “One moment,” said Carpentaria to the Ethiopian. “Did Mr. Ilam or any - other person give you a note to hand to the doorkeeper outside there?” The - Soudanese shook his fierce and yet amiable head. - </p> - <p> - “What!” cried Pratt, addressing him in surprise, “didn’t you come up and - give a note to Wiggins and then go away again, and return a second time?” - The Soudanese shook his head once more. - </p> - <p> - “Then there must have been two of ’em, sir,” said Pratt to - Carpentaria. “This chap’s honest enough.” - </p> - <p> - “Me have brother,” said the Soudanese, “same me.” - </p> - <p> - “Where is your brother?” - </p> - <p> - The Soudanese shook his head. - </p> - <p> - “In the native village?” - </p> - <p> - “Yes, sah.” - </p> - <p> - “Go and fetch him,” ordered Carpentaria. - </p> - <p> - And the next moment he was alone in the great chamber, and he felt tempted - simply to go to the regular police, of whom a few were constantly employed - by the City, and tell them what had happened, and leave the whole affair - entirely in their hands. And then the strange attraction which always - emanates from a mystery appealed to him so strongly that he determined to - probe a little further into the peculiar matter of Ilam’s disappearance, - without the aid of professional detectives. He didn’t imagine for an - instant that Ilam was dead. He was capable of believing that Ilam had - disappeared willingly; and yet such a theory, having regard to the - recitals of Mr. Gloucester and of the bank-clerk (by this time doubtless - on his way to Weybridge, and the young thing) was to say the least - exceedingly improbable. - </p> - <p> - He unlocked the door and went outside. Wiggins was at his post, actuated - by the exaggerated alertness which characterizes one who has been caught - napping. - </p> - <p> - “Anything happened, Wiggins?” - </p> - <p> - “No, sir. Nothing whatever.” - </p> - <p> - “I shall return soon. If the Soudanese comes, keep him.” - </p> - <p> - “Yes, sir.” - </p> - <p> - He passed into the Central Way, which was almost deserted. The last - visitor, the very last stalwart of the Y.M.C.A., had departed, and the - sole signs of life in the great thoroughfare were a lamplighter - extinguishing the gas-lamps which were provided in case of a sudden - failure of electricity, and a road-sweeper in charge of a complicated - machine with two horses. The clock in the tower of the Exposition Palace - showed half an hour after closing time. The moon was peeping over the - eastern roofs. - </p> - <p> - Carpentaria went to the garage, and, not without difficulty, for it was - shut up, made his way into the interior and procured some light. He wished - to make a thorough examination of the car which had been employed as the - instrument of the plot. He had it drawn out to the centre of the garage, - under the full flare of an electric chandelier. A sleepy attendant hovered - in the background. - </p> - <p> - “Get a ladder and see if there’s anything on the roof of the van—any - tyres or boxes or anything,” said Carpentaria. - </p> - <p> - “There’s only this, sir,” replied the attendant when he had climbed up, - and he produced a cap and overcoat of the City uniform. - </p> - <p> - “Well, I’m——!” exclaimed Carpentaria, and a notion struck him. - </p> - <p> - “Doorkeeper gone to bed?” he queried. - </p> - <p> - “Yes, sir.” - </p> - <p> - “Wake him and tell him I want him.” - </p> - <p> - While waiting for the doorkeeper, Carpentaria scrutinized attentively the - wheels of the vehicle; those wheels, even on his first visit, had put an - idea into his head. Then the doorkeeper arrived, not quite as spruce and - perfect as a doorkeeper ought to be. - </p> - <p> - “No one can enter this garage except under your observation?” Carpentaria - asked him. - </p> - <p> - “No one,” said the doorkeeper, positively. - </p> - <p> - “But you don’t keep such a careful eye on the people who go out?” - </p> - <p> - “Naturally not, sir. They can’t go out till they’ve been in, and if - they’ve been in they’re all right.” - </p> - <p> - “Just so. Now try to remember. Soon after this car returned to the garage - to-night, did any one leave the garage who was unfamiliar to you?” - </p> - <p> - “I don’t remember, sir. You see, sir——” - </p> - <p> - “Exactly. I see. I am not blaming you. Your theory, though defective, is a - natural one. Now, do you remember, for instance, a man in a blue suit, - with grey hair, going out?” - </p> - <p> - “Upon my soul, I believe I do, sir.” - </p> - <p> - “You are certain?” - </p> - <p> - “Oh, no, sir. I’m not certain. But I have a sort of a hazy idea——” - </p> - <p> - “Look at these wheels,” Carpentaria cut him short. “That’s clayey mud, - isn’t it?” - </p> - <p> - “Yes, sir.” - </p> - <p> - “Where could the car have been to get that?” - </p> - <p> - “There’s that passage down under the embankment, sir, that way as leads to - the river.” - </p> - <p> - “Doorkeeper,” said Carpentaria, “you are brilliant. I also have thought of - that spot, where just such clay exists. But why should the car go down - there?” - </p> - <p> - “Ah,” said the doorkeeper. “There you beat me, sir.” - </p> - <p> - “Then perhaps you are not so brilliant after all,” said Carpentaria. - </p> - <p> - And having minutely examined the interior of the car, with no result, he - left the garage, and returned to the strong room. - </p> - <p> - The Soudanese was awaiting him at the door, and there were evident signs - of a quarrelsome temper on the part of Wiggins. Wiggins had not forgotten - the colour of the messenger who had handed him the forged note. - </p> - <p> - “Well?” Carpentaria asked of the Soudanese. “Where’s your brother?” - </p> - <p> - The man shook his head, but not smilingly. - </p> - <p> - “Has he gone?” - </p> - <p> - “Yes, sah.” - </p> - <p> - “No one knows at the village where he’s gone?” - </p> - <p> - Spats shook his head. - </p> - <p> - “Wiggins,” said Carpentaria. “Is this the man who brought you the note?” - </p> - <p> - Wiggins hesitated. - </p> - <p> - “No, sir,” he said at length’, resentfully. “But they’re all alike, them - folk are.” - </p> - <p> - “H’m!” murmured Carpentaria. “Since there is nothing to guard here, you - may as well go, Wiggins. You, too, Spats.” - </p> - <p> - Two minutes later he was crossing the Oriental Gardens in the direction of - the Thames. And when he had travelled two hundred yards or so he heard - footsteps behind him, light, rapid, irregular. He turned quickly, his hand - on the revolver in his pocket, to face his pursuer. His pursuer, however, - was Pauline Dartmouth and no other. So he left the revolver where it was. - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0023" id="link2HCH0023"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER XXIII—The Talk in the Garden - </h2> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">S</span>he was so out of - breath that at first it seemed as if she could not speak. He could hear - her hurried breathing, almost like the catch of a sob, and in the - moonlight he could see fairly clearly her flushed face, under the hat, and - her tall, rather imperious figure. But he could not make out the - expression of her eyes. Nevertheless, as he peered curiously into them, - the thought suddenly struck him: “She is angry with me.” - </p> - <p> - “Mr. Carpentaria, I want to have a word with you,” she said at length, - stiffly. - </p> - <p> - “My dear Miss Dartmouth,” he answered in his courtly and elaborate manner, - “I shall be delighted. What can I do for you? I regret very much that you - should have had to run after me like this.” - </p> - <p> - “I’ve been following you up for quite a long time,” she remarked, in a - more friendly tone. It appeared as if his attitude and greeting had made - some impression on her, in spite of herself. “First I went to your office. - Then to the strong-rooms, then to the garage, then to the strong-rooms - again, and now I’m here. I saw you crossing the gardens. Nobody seemed to - be inclined to give me any information about you.” - </p> - <p> - “No?” he murmured, in a cautious interrogative. “Now tell me; how can I be - of service to you?” - </p> - <p> - She scanned his features. They were alone together in the midst of the - immense gardens. A hundred yards away was the bandstand, the scene of the - greatest triumphs of his life. And yet in that moment his triumphs seemed - nothing to him as he stood under her gaze. Her personality affected him - powerfully. He said to himself that no woman had ever looked at him like - that. There was no admiration in her glance, no prejudice either for or - against him; nothing but a candid and judicial inquiry. “I hope I shall - come well out of this scrutiny,” his thoughts ran. And the masculine - desire formed obscurely in his breast to make this girl think favourably - of him, to make her admire him, love him, worship him. He felt that to see - love in these calm, courageous, independent eyes of hers would be a - recompense and a reward for all he had suffered in the forty years of his - existence. In a word she piqued him. He little knew that up to that very - evening she had worshipped him afar off as women do worship their heroes. - </p> - <p> - “Nobody ill, I hope,” he ventured. - </p> - <p> - She ignored the observation, and said: - </p> - <p> - “Mr. Carpentaria, what have you done with Cousin Ilam?” - </p> - <p> - “What?” he cried, amazed both by the question, and by the cold firmness - with which it was put. - </p> - <p> - “I think you heard what I said,” she replied. “What have you done with - Cousin Ilam? Where is he?” - </p> - <p> - “Miss Dartmouth, do you imagine for one instant that I know where Mr. Ilam - is? I should only like to know where he is. I’m looking for him now. But I - was not aware that the fact of his disappearance was known. Indeed, I - meant it to be kept as secret as possible. I——” - </p> - <p> - “No, no,” she interrupted him. “I was hoping you would be frank. I thought - you had an honest face, Mr. Carpentaria, and it is because of that that I - have come—like this. I have just left your poor sister. She is in - despair. She has told me all.” Carpentaria did not reply immediately. At - last he repeated: - </p> - <p> - “Told you all? All what? You have soon become fast friends, you and - Juliette.” - </p> - <p> - “It is possible,” said Pauline drily. “I have met your sister three times, - but in seasons of distress we women are obliged to cling to each other. As - for Miss D’Avray and me, we live next door to each other. What more - natural than that I should call on her this evening? And finding her in a - condition of—shall I say?—despair, what more natural than that - I should ask her what was the matter, and what more natural, seeing that - she has no women friends here, and is of a nature that demands sympathy, - than that on the spur of the moment she should confide in me?” - </p> - <p> - “I assure you, Miss Dartmouth,” said Carpentaria, “that I was entirely - unaware of my sister’s despair—as you call it. What precisely has - she confided to you?” - </p> - <p> - “Why, about her engagement to Cousin Ilam, and your opposition.” - </p> - <p> - “Pardon me, there has been no engagement,” said Carpentaria. - </p> - <p> - “Pardon me,” said Pauline, “there has been an engagement, because my - cousin and your half-sister made it. Is there anybody better qualified - than them to make an engagement?” - </p> - <p> - She lifted her chin. - </p> - <p> - “Well,” said Carpentaria. “Let us assume that there was an engagement.” - </p> - <p> - “They were to be married to-morrow,” remarked Pauline calmly. - </p> - <p> - “To-morrow!” Carpentaria exclaimed, aghast. “Secretly?” - </p> - <p> - “Why do you pretend to be surprised? As for the secrecy, your opposition - has forced them to secrecy, because your sister is afraid of you.” - </p> - <p> - “And now that your cousin has disappeared, of course, they can’t be - married to-morrow,” mused Carpentaria. “Hence this woe.” - </p> - <p> - “Why have you taken such extreme measures, such cruel measures, such - wicked measures?” asked Pauline, full of indignation. “I can understand - well enough that you, as a great artist, cannot be expected to behave like - other people; I can understand you doing mad things, original things. I - can understand you defying the law, and taking the most serious risks on - yourself. But I can’t understand you being so cruel to your sister, and so - utterly beside yourself, as to carry off Mr. Ilam by force.” - </p> - <p> - Her cheeks had flushed. - </p> - <p> - “By force?” murmured Carpentaria. - </p> - <p> - Then he laughed loudly, violently, magnificently, after his manner. His - laugh resounded through the deserted gardens. - </p> - <p> - “Juliette thinks I have removed her betrothed by force?” he queried. - </p> - <p> - “Naturally she does!” said Pauline. “The most extraordinary rumours are - about. It is even said that you have had a quarrel and killed him.” - </p> - <p> - “Tut-tut!” said Carpentaria, and after clearing his throat he proceeded: - “Miss Dartmouth, will you kindly fix your eyes on mine. I tell you I have - had nothing whatever to do with your cousin’s disappearance, and that I - was entirely unaware of his intention to marry Juliette to-morrow.” - </p> - <p> - She gazed at him doubtfully. - </p> - <p> - “On your honour?” - </p> - <p> - “No,” he said proudly, “not on my honour. When I talk to a person as I am - talking to you, if I say a thing is so, it is so. I decline to back my - assertions with my honour.” - </p> - <p> - “I believe you,” she whispered softly, and her eyes fell. - </p> - <p> - “Thanks!” he said. “Will you shake hands?” - </p> - <p> - And she gave him her hand loyally. And he thought it was a very slim and - thrilling hand to shake. - </p> - <p> - “Do you know,” he said, “it was exceedingly naughty of you to go and - credit me with being such a monster.” - </p> - <p> - “Well,” she replied, “perhaps I never did really believe it.” She smiled - at him courageously. “But I was angry with you for objecting to the match. - I suppose you won’t deny that you have objected to the match.” - </p> - <p> - “No,” he said, “I shan’t deny that.” - </p> - <p> - “And your reasons?” - </p> - <p> - “I could not disclose them to Mr. Ilam’s cousin,” he answered. “And - perhaps they are not as strong as they were. I am beginning to think that - just as you accused me wrongly, so I have accused your cousin wrongly. But - I can assure you I had better reason than you. Ah, Miss Dartmouth,” he - added, “it may well occur that you will infinitely regret ever having come - into the City.” - </p> - <p> - “Never!” she said positively. - </p> - <p> - “That’s very polite,” he commented. - </p> - <p> - “We are getting away from the point,” she remarked in a new tone. “I have - left your sister in a pitiable state. If you have not had anything to do - with the disappearance of Cousin Ilam, who has?” - </p> - <p> - “He may have disappeared voluntarily,” said Carpentaria. - </p> - <p> - “Impossible!” she replied. - </p> - <p> - “I think so too.” Carpentaria agreed. “At first I was capable of believing - that he had played an enormous comedy in order to disappear in the most - effective manner. But really the comedy grows too enormous to be any - longer a comedy. It may be a tragedy by this time.” - </p> - <p> - “And whom do you suspect?” queried Pauline impatiently. - </p> - <p> - “If I were you,” was Carpentaria’s strange response, “I should ask your - sister, Miss Rosie.” - </p> - <p> - “Rosie!” - </p> - <p> - “Rosie.” - </p> - <p> - “Mr. Carpentaria, what on earth do you mean?” - </p> - <p> - “I mean that your sister probably knows something of the affair. Where is - she at the present moment?” - </p> - <p> - “She is watching Mrs. Ilam, in place of the nurse.” - </p> - <p> - “I gravely doubt it,” said Carpentaria with firmness. - </p> - <p> - “But I have seen her there.” - </p> - <p> - “It is conceivable,” said Carpentaria. “But I gravely doubt if she is - still there.” - </p> - <p> - “I shall be compelled to think that after all you are a little mad,” - Pauline observed coldly. - </p> - <p> - “We are all more or less mad,” said Carpentaria. “Otherwise your sister, - for instance, would not hold long conversations with a highly suspicious - character every night from the window of her room.” - </p> - <p> - Pauline, in the light of her knowledge of what had taken place in and - about the Ilam bungalow on the first night of her residence there, could - scarcely affect not to understand, at any rate partially, Carpentaria’s - allusion. - </p> - <p> - “I don’t quite——” she began, lamely. - </p> - <p> - “Do you mean to say,” he interrupted her at once, “do you mean to say, - dear lady, that you are entirely unaware of the surreptitious visits of a - certain mysterious person to Mr. Ilam’s house?” - </p> - <p> - “I am not entirely unaware of them,” she said frankly! “I saw the man - myself one night. I spoke to him. My sister also—also spoke to him. - But I have not seen nor heard of him since. Nor has Rosie.” - </p> - <p> - “Of that you are sure?” - </p> - <p> - “Yes, I think I may say I am sure.” - </p> - <p> - “Then I must undeceive you,” Carpentaria spoke firmly. “I also have - acquired a certain curiosity as to that strange individual. And to satisfy - my curiosity I have kept a considerable number of vigils. And I am in a - position to state that, not only on the first night of your arrival, but - every night your sister has had speech with that person from the window of - her room.” - </p> - <p> - “Who is he? What can he want?” demanded Pauline, nervously. - </p> - <p> - “That is a question that I meant to put to you,” said Carpentaria in - reply. - </p> - <p> - “As for me, I know nothing.” - </p> - <p> - “When you spoke to him, as you admit you did, did he not ask you to do - something?” - </p> - <p> - “Yes, and I refused his request.” - </p> - <p> - “But your sister? What did she do?” - </p> - <p> - “Oh! Mr. Carpentaria,” murmured Pauline, “can I trust you?” - </p> - <p> - “You know that you can.” - </p> - <p> - She related to him all the details of the episode of the black box. - </p> - <p> - “And after that,” Carpentaria commented, “your sister continues to have - stolen interviews with this man.” - </p> - <p> - “I can’t help thinking you are mistaken. Rosie would never keep such a - secret from me.” - </p> - <p> - “It will be very easy to throw some light on the matter,” said - Carpentaria. “Let us go to your house and see whether Miss Rosie is in - Mrs. Ilam’s room as you imagine her to be, and as I imagine her not to be. - I may tell you quite openly my opinion that Miss Rosie has had something - to do with the disappearance of Mr. Ilam. I am convinced, indeed I know, - that he has been spirited away, together with a trifling amount of money, - by our mysterious visitor, and since our mysterious visitor talks to Miss - Rosie each night, she on her balcony and he beneath it—well, I leave - the inference to yourself.” - </p> - <p> - Pauline started back. - </p> - <p> - “Yes,” she said, in a low voice, “let us go and see.” - </p> - <p> - And they went, walking side by side in silence across the gardens. - </p> - <p> - “I will wait here,” said Carpentaria, when they arrived at the side-door - of the Ilam bungalow. “You can ascertain whether anything unusual has - occurred in the house, and particularly if your sister is still at her - post, and then you will be kind enough to come back and report to me. I - will watch here.” Without replying Pauline passed into the house. In a few - minutes she returned. Tears stood in her eyes. - </p> - <p> - “Well?” queried Carpentaria. - </p> - <p> - “Rosie is not in the house,” she answered. “Mrs. Ilam is alone. Happily - she is asleep. Everything is quiet. But Rosie——!” - </p> - <p> - A sob escaped her. - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2H_PART3" id="link2H_PART3"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - PART III—JETSAM - </h2> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0024" id="link2HCH0024"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER XXIV—The Boat - </h2> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">C</span>arpentaria and - Pauline continued to stand motionless outside the house, both of them - hesitant, recoiling before the circumstances which faced them. The night - remained clear, almost brilliant. - </p> - <p> - “The entire situation is changed,” said Carpentaria at length. “A new - factor has entered into it.” - </p> - <p> - “What factor?” Pauline demanded. - </p> - <p> - “Why, your sister, of course!” he replied, with a slight smile that - disclosed momentarily the quizzical male person in him. “Consider how it - complicates the affair. If I had to deal only with the mysterious - individual with grey hair and a blue suit—perhaps you do not know - that he calls himself Jetsam?—I could go to work in a simple - masculine fashion, and in the end one of us would suffer, probably he. But - with a woman in the case——” - </p> - <p> - “How can you be sure,” Pauline interrupted him, “that Rosie is in the - case?” - </p> - <p> - “Can you doubt it?” - </p> - <p> - “I cannot understand why she should behave so!” - </p> - <p> - “Perhaps she knew him before,” Carpentaria hazarded. - </p> - <p> - “Never,” said Pauline positively—“never.” - </p> - <p> - “Then he has certainly been able to exercise a most remarkable influence - over her.” - </p> - <p> - “Not a hypnotic influence, or anything of that kind?” - </p> - <p> - “Perhaps an influence of quite another kind—quite another kind.” - </p> - <p> - “But Rosie is scarcely half his age.” - </p> - <p> - “Do these things depend on age?” cried Carpentaria. “They depend on - glances, sympathies, and trifles even more subtle than sympathies. - Besides, she is more than half his age.” - </p> - <p> - “Oh,” murmured Pauline, with a sudden wistful appeal in her voice, “I - shall trust you to help me, Mr. Carpentaria. Rosie may be in danger; she - may be doing something very foolish, mixing herself up like this in the - kidnapping of poor Cousin Ilam. What is to be done?” - </p> - <p> - “She is decidedly doing something very foolish,” said Carpentaria, - “foolish, that is, from a mere ordinary common-sense point of view. But I - don’t think she is in any danger. I don’t think that either she or you are - the sort of woman that gets into danger without very good cause. As to - what is to be done, I have an idea. Mrs. Ilam will be all right alone?” - </p> - <p> - “Yes; for a few hours, at any rate.” - </p> - <p> - “Then will you come with me to the river? I have some investigations to - make.” - </p> - <p> - “Certainly,” said Pauline. - </p> - <p> - And as they crossed the Oriental Gardens for the second time that night, - he told her what he knew about the use, or rather the abuse, of the - automobile. - </p> - <p> - The marble parapet of the immense terrace of the gardens stood a dozen - feet above the level of high tide. The terrace was continuous from end to - end, but in several places it formed a viaduct over paths that ran from - the gardens at a steep slope down to the bed of the river. It was one of - these paths, a specially clayey one, at the point where it ran under the - terrace, that Carpentaria suspected the automobile of having taken. - Assuming his suspicion to be correct, the automobile could only have - descended to the Thames, and then, if the tide gave room, turned round and - returned; or, if the tide did not give room, backed out without turning. - </p> - <p> - “Its sole purpose,” said Carpentaria, as they talked the matter over, - “could have been to pass something to a boat. Don’t you think so?” - </p> - <p> - “Yes,” Pauline agreed, and then she added, “unless they merely wanted to - throw something into the river.” - </p> - <p> - “What!” He cried; “a corpse?” - </p> - <p> - “No,” she said calmly. “I was thinking of the two thousand five hundred - pounds in gold that you told me had been stolen.” - </p> - <p> - He paused. - </p> - <p> - “This is really very clever of you,” he said. “But why should they throw - it into the river.” - </p> - <p> - “Well,” she said, “it’s high tide, or rather it was, about an hour and a - half ago. They might have sunk the money, intending to recover it at their - leisure during the night when the tide sank.” - </p> - <p> - “Yes, I must repeat,” he said; “this is really very clever of you.” - </p> - <p> - They were already beginning to descend the broadest of the three paths - which led from the level of the gardens to the level of the river, and the - wheelmarks of an automobile were clearly visible thereon, when Carpentaria - halted. - </p> - <p> - “Suppose,” he whispered, “they are there now?” - </p> - <p> - “Who? Mr. Jetsam and my sister?” - </p> - <p> - “No, not your sister. Mr. Jetsam and his—other accomplices—whoever - they may be. I do not imagine that your sister has been concerned in the - actual—er—affair. Indeed, she was at home with you at the - time. But if Jetsam, for instance, should be down there now, alone or with - others, there might be a row on my appearance. I will therefore ask you to - stay where you are, Miss Dartmouth.” - </p> - <p> - She shook her head. - </p> - <p> - “I have begun,” she said, “and I will go through with it. Besides, what - danger could there be? People don’t go shooting and killing promiscuously - like that.” - </p> - <p> - “Oh, don’t they!” Carpentaria exclaimed. - </p> - <p> - “Moreover, I have no fancy to be left alone here now,” she added. “And - most likely there isn’t anyone there at all.” - </p> - <p> - “Hush!” said Carpentaria. “Can’t you hear the splash of an oar? Listen!” - </p> - <p> - They listened. - </p> - <p> - “Yes,” she murmured. “And is not that the noise of a boat crunching on the - beach?” - </p> - <p> - The path disappeared mysteriously before them under the terrace; they - could not see the end of it. But the sound-waves came clearly enough - through the little tunnel. - </p> - <p> - “We will go back,” said Carpentaria, “and slip on to the terrace. Behind - the parapet we can see anything that may happen to be going on. But - quietly, quietly, dear lady.” - </p> - <p> - In a few moments they were creeping across the broad terrace. - Simultaneously they bent down, side by side, under the parapet and looked - between its squat, rounded pillars at the water below. - </p> - <p> - Pauline gave a slight smothered cry, which Carpentaria, with an imperious - gesture, bade her check. - </p> - <p> - “Not a word,” he whispered in her ear. - </p> - <p> - Rosie—Rosie and no other—was manoeuvring a boat off the shore. - Her face, her dress, her hat, were plainly visible in the moonlight. She - stood up in the boat, and by means of a boat-hook hooked to a large oblong - stone, drew the boat to the shore. She then seized the painter and jumped - lightly out. - </p> - <p> - The curious thing was that she went directly to the large oblong stone, - and with a great effort, lifted it up in her arms, tottered with it to the - boat, and deposited it therein. Carpentaria perceived then that the stone - was not a stone, but one of the coffers in which was kept the gold of the - City of Pleasure. He perceived also that, attached to the coffer, was a - dozen feet or so of rope with a cork float at the end. Rosie followed the - coffer into the boat, pushed off, and then, at a distance of a few yards - from the shore, pitched the coffer into the river. This done, she landed, - made fast the painter of the boat to an iron ring in the wall of the - embankment and departed; and she did it all rather neatly. - </p> - <p> - Immediately she had disappeared under the terrace, Pauline cried, starting - up: - </p> - <p> - “I must go to her—I must ask her what she means by doing such - things.” - </p> - <p> - “Pardon me,” said Carpentaria; “you must do nothing of the kind. I most - seriously beg you to do nothing of the kind. By interfering now you may - spoil the coup which we may ultimately make.” - </p> - <p> - “I don’t quite comprehend you,” Pauline observed. “Miss Dartmouth,” he - addressed her excitedly, “there can be no doubt in your mind now that your - sister is concerned in this plot, whatever it is. I am perfectly convinced - that her motives are good, honourable, kind-hearted. But she is concerned - in it. We must, therefore, so far as we can, treat her as one of the - conspirators——” - </p> - <p> - “But surely——” - </p> - <p> - “Always with profound respect,” said Carpentaria. “Had the person in the - boat been any other than your sister, should we have revealed ourselves? - Certainly not! We should have followed the plot to its next development, - with this advantage—that we knew something which the conspirators - imagined to be a secret. The fact that the person in the boat was your - sister must not alter our course of conduct. And permit me to add, Miss - Dartmouth, that you first approached me on behalf of <i>my</i> sister. We - owe something to her, do we not?” - </p> - <p> - “Yes,” said Pauline in a low voice. “Then what do you mean to do next?” - </p> - <p> - “I suggest that we go back to your house, to see whether your sister has - returned. May I ask whether, when you last spoke to her, she gave you to - understand that she meant to stay with Mrs. Ilam?” - </p> - <p> - Pauline breathed a reluctant affirmative. - </p> - <p> - “No hint that she was going out?” - </p> - <p> - “None. And——” - </p> - <p> - “And what?” - </p> - <p> - “Oh, dear!” Pauline sighed. “Must I tell you? Yes, I must! I’m sure Rosie - is acting for the best, but really it was not her turn to watch Mrs. Ilam - to-night.” - </p> - <p> - “Whose turn was it?” - </p> - <p> - “The nurse’s.” - </p> - <p> - “And your sister changed the rotation?” - </p> - <p> - “Yes. She said the nurse needed a holiday, and told her she could go away - for twenty-four hours, and that she would take her place.” - </p> - <p> - “What time was that?” - </p> - <p> - “About six o’clock this evening, I think.” - </p> - <p> - “And where has the nurse gone?” - </p> - <p> - “The nurse has gone to a concert at Queen’s Hall, and will sleep at the - house of some friends at Islington.” - </p> - <p> - “And does your sister imagine you to be in bed?” - </p> - <p> - “I expect so,” said Pauline. - </p> - <p> - They slowly returned to the neighbourhood of the bungalows. Carpentaria - wanted to hurry, but it seemed as though Pauline was being held back by - some occult force. As a matter of fact, she dreaded the moment when she - should re-enter the house. But at length, they stood once again by the - doorstep of Josephus Ilam. - </p> - <p> - “What am I to do?” Pauline demanded sadly. “What do you think will be the - best thing to do?” - </p> - <p> - “We have not seen your sister in the gardens,” said Carpentaria. “She has - most probably returned. She would not be likely to leave Mrs. Ilam for - very long, would she? Go and see if she has returned, if she is in Mrs. - Ham’s room. And if she is, question her.” - </p> - <p> - “But how? What am I to say? Am I to ask her if she has been out?” - </p> - <p> - “By no means!” said Carpentaria promptly. “You are to pretend that you - know nothing. You must approach her diplomatically. Either she will tell - the truth or she will——” - </p> - <p> - “Lie! Lie!” cried Pauline. “Say it openly! Say the word! Admit that you - are persuading me to behave despicably to the creature who is dearest to - me in all the world.” - </p> - <p> - “If there is duplicity,” Carpentaria answered, “you, at any rate, did not - begin it. We are convinced of your sister’s good intentions. What else - matters? In a few days, perhaps to-morrow, all will be explained. Let me - entreat you to go at once. I will await your report.” - </p> - <p> - She shook her head sadly, opened the door with her latchkey, and was just - about to shut it when Carpentaria stopped her. - </p> - <p> - “One moment,” he said. “You have told me your sister believes you to be in - bed.” - </p> - <p> - “I say ‘probably.’” - </p> - <p> - “It is important that she should not be undeceived. I need not insist. You - can easily make it appear that, having been awakened by some noise, you - have got up. Eh?” And he smiled. - </p> - <p> - She tried to smile in return, and disappeared from his view. Within the - house, she crept upstairs, and into her bedroom, feeling like a thief. - When she emerged therefrom she had put on a <i>peignoir</i>, and her <i>coiffure</i> - was disarranged. She went to the door of Mrs. Ham’s room, and listened - intently. There was not a sound. If she was to obey Carpentaria she must - enter, and she must wear a false mask: to that sister to whom she had all - her life been as sincere as it is possible for one human being to be to - another. Well, she could not enter—she could not enter! Her legs - would not carry her through the doorway. And so, instead of going in, she - called: - </p> - <p> - “Rosie!” - </p> - <p> - But her voice was so weak that she scarcely even heard it herself. - </p> - <p> - No reply came from the interior. And she called again, this time quite - loudly: - </p> - <p> - “Rosie, dear!” - </p> - <p> - Then she opened the door an inch or two. There was a rush of skirts across - the room, and Rosie appeared. She was evidently in a state of extreme - excitement. - </p> - <p> - “What’s the matter? Are you ill?” asked Rosie. - </p> - <p> - “I—I was wakened by some noise or other,” said Pauline painfully, - and it appeared to her that Carpentaria was whispering in her ear the - words that she must say. “And—and—I—I thought perhaps - something had gone wrong here.” - </p> - <p> - “No,” was Rosie’s reply. “But how queer you look, darling! You must have - had a nightmare. You have quite startled me.” - </p> - <p> - Pauline did not answer at once. - </p> - <p> - “You aren’t undressed! You haven’t lain down,” she said at length. “I - thought you could always sleep very well on that sofa.” - </p> - <p> - “So I can,” said Rosie. “But I’ve been reading. And besides—it’s - rather upsetting about Cousin Ilam. I wonder where he can be.” - </p> - <p> - “Oh!” Pauline remarked summarily, “he’s pretty certain to turn up - to-morrow. I expect he’s gone into town.” - </p> - <p> - Rosie yawned. - </p> - <p> - “Yes,” she agreed. - </p> - <p> - “Well, good-night, darling,” said Pauline, and took Rosie’s hand. . - </p> - <p> - “Good-night.” - </p> - <p> - “How cold your hand is!” Pauline observed, with an inward tremor. “Have - you been out?” - </p> - <p> - “Been out? What do you mean?” - </p> - <p> - “Outside on to the balcony?” - </p> - <p> - “No. I haven’t stirred from my chair, darling. Bye-bye.” - </p> - <p> - They stared at each other for an instant, each full of dissimulation, and - yet also of love, and then they kissed one another passionately, and - Pauline departed. They were women. - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0025" id="link2HCH0025"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER XXV—-A Wholesale Departure - </h2> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">H</span>aving retired to - her bedroom and divested herself of the deceitful <i>peignoir</i>, Pauline - made her way, with all the precautions of secrecy, downstairs again, and - so to the door which gave on the avenue. Carpentaria was not in view when - she timorously put her head out of the door, and she was in a mind to rush - back to her sister in order to confide in her absolutely, and to demand in - return her entire confidence. She allowed herself to suspect for a brief - instant that, after all, Carpentaria had not been behaving openly with - her; but just then the musician arrived—he had evidently been - watching the other side of the house. - </p> - <p> - “You were right,” she whispered, before he had time to ask a question. - </p> - <p> - “Your sister denies that she has been out?” - </p> - <p> - Pauline nodded. - </p> - <p> - “Does this help us?” she inquired, as it were, bitterly. “Are we any - better off, now that I have lied to Rosie, and forced Rosie to lie to me?” - </p> - <p> - “I think so,” he said. - </p> - <p> - “I don’t,” Pauline retorted. “And I have passed the most dreadful five - minutes of all my life.” - </p> - <p> - She seemed to be desolated, to be filled with grief. - </p> - <p> - “I’m so sorry, so very sorry,” he murmured. - </p> - <p> - “No, no,” she said quickly. “You have been quite right. We find ourselves - in the centre of a mystery, and I have no excuse for being sentimental. My - trust in Rosie remains what it always was. Still, facts are facts, and I - am ready to do whatever you instruct me to do.” - </p> - <p> - “Well,” he said, “your sister must have had some reason for insisting on - watching Mrs. Ilam out of her turn; and that reason is not connected with - the little matter of the boat. If she had merely wished to go unobserved - to the boat she would have gone to bed as usual and said nothing, wouldn’t - she?” - </p> - <p> - Pauline nodded. - </p> - <p> - “It is obvious, therefore, that there is something else to be done, or to - occur—probably in Mrs. Ilam’s bedroom. For if it is not to happen in - Mrs. Ilam’s bedroom, why should your sister have voluntarily tied herself - up there?” - </p> - <p> - “But what could possibly happen in Mrs. Ilam’s bedroom?” demanded Pauline, - with a nervous start of apprehension. - </p> - <p> - “How do I know?” Carpentaria replied. “I can only point to certain - indications, which lead to certain conclusions. You will oblige me by - watching, Miss Dartmouth.” - </p> - <p> - “Where?” - </p> - <p> - “The landing and the stairs of your house. Is there a view of the stairs - from your room?” - </p> - <p> - “Yes,” said Pauline. - </p> - <p> - “Then you can watch from there. Do not burn a light.” - </p> - <p> - “And if anything strange does occur?” - </p> - <p> - “Go to your balcony, and tie a white handkerchief to the railings.” - </p> - <p> - “And you?” queried Pauline. - </p> - <p> - At that moment there was the sound of a window opening in Carpentaria’s - bungalow across the avenue, and a voice called plaintively: - </p> - <p> - “Carlos, is that you?” - </p> - <p> - “It is I,” he answered, as low as he could. - </p> - <p> - “Go to her. Comfort her,” Pauline enjoined him. - </p> - <p> - “I am coming to you,” he obediently called in the direction of the window. - </p> - <p> - Both of them could see the vague figure of Juliette, framed in the window. - </p> - <p> - “Poor thing!” murmured Pauline. - </p> - <p> - “Afterwards,” said Carpentaria hurriedly, “I shall come out again and - watch the outside of your house. With you inside and me outside, it will - be very difficult for anything peculiar to occur without our knowledge.” - </p> - <p> - And he left her, impressed by her common sense and her self-control, and - withal her utter womanliness. - </p> - <p> - The hall of his own house was dark, and all the rooms of the ground-floor - deserted. He mounted to the upper story. Juliette, hearing his footsteps, - had come to the door of the study, from whose window she had hailed him, - and she stared at him with a fixed and almost stony gaze as he approached. - Her figure was silhouetted against the electric light in the study. - </p> - <p> - “Turn that light out instantly,” he said, with involuntary sternness. - </p> - <p> - She did not move, and, obsessed by the importance of giving to anyone who - might be spying the impression that all the occupants of the house had - retired for the night, he pushed past her and turned off the switch. - </p> - <p> - “Oh, Carlos,” Juliette sighed, “how cruel you are?” - </p> - <p> - He now saw her indistinctly in the deep gloom of the chamber, and her form - seemed pathetic to him, and her sad, despairing voice even more pathetic. - He went up to her impulsively and took her hand. - </p> - <p> - “Juliette,” he said, “can you believe it of me?” - </p> - <p> - “Miss Dartmouth has spoken to you?” she asked, a glimmer of hope in her - tone. - </p> - <p> - “Yes,” he said. “Can you believe that I have—have caused anything to - be done to Ilam?” - </p> - <p> - “Have you not?” she demanded eagerly. - </p> - <p> - And he told her what he had previously told Pauline. - </p> - <p> - She thanked him with an affectionate kiss. - </p> - <p> - “Carlos,” she said, and the words fell in a little torrent from her mouth, - “I told you a falsehood this morning. I acted a part. He was in my - sitting-room all the time. Can you forgive me?” - </p> - <p> - “I was sure of it,” said Carpentaria calmly, “and I can forgive you,” he - added. - </p> - <p> - “You do not know what it is to love,” she said. “You have never cared for - anyone—in that way. I hadn’t—until I met——” - </p> - <p> - “Who says I don’t know what it is to love!” he stopped her. “Perhaps I am - learning. But tell me, when did you last see Ilam? Have you seen him since - this morning?” - </p> - <p> - “Yes,” she said. - </p> - <p> - “Where?” - </p> - <p> - “At his offices this evening.” - </p> - <p> - “He gave no hint that he was in any danger?” - </p> - <p> - “No immediate danger. Oh, Carlos, he is not what you think him to be. He - is an honest man, and I am so sorry for him, and I love him. Where is he? - What has happened to him?” - </p> - <p> - “I can’t tell you now,” was Carpentaria’s reply, “but before morning we - shall know more, or I am mistaken.” - </p> - <p> - “It is for the crimes of others that he is suffering,” said Juliette. - </p> - <p> - “He told you so?” - </p> - <p> - “No, but I guess; I am sure. I know all his faults—all of them. I do - not hide one of them from myself. Why should I, since he loves me and I - love him?” - </p> - <p> - “My child,” said Carpentaria abruptly, “you might have trusted me more.” - </p> - <p> - “I should have trusted you absolutely,” answered Juliette, “but he is - afraid of you. He would not let me. I could not disobey him. Sometime, - somehow, you must have said something to frighten him and, though he is so - big and strong, he is timid; he has timid eyes. It was because of his eyes - that I first began to like him. Carlos, what are you going to do?” - </p> - <p> - “I am going to watch,” was the response. - </p> - <p> - “A man came to the back-door not long since, and asked whether you were at - home.” - </p> - <p> - “A man came to the back-door?” repeated Carpentaria sharply, every nerve - suddenly on the strain. “Who was it? What did you say to him?” - </p> - <p> - “At first I thought it was one of the night-staff, and then the man’s face - made me suspicious; I imagined it might be a thief—you know what a - state I am in, Carlos—and so I told him you had just gone to bed, - and I shut the door in his face. I didn’t want him to think there were - only women in the house. But, of course, it couldn’t have been a burglar—here——” - </p> - <p> - “That is the wisest thing you have done this day, Juliette,” Carpentaria - remarked; and then he questioned her as to the appearance of the - mysterious inquirer. - </p> - <p> - “Are you going to leave me?” cried Juliette, when Carpentaria picked up - his hat, which had fallen from a chair to the floor. - </p> - <p> - “Yes,” he said; “you must try to rest.” - </p> - <p> - And then they were both startled by a strange noise on the window-pane. - They listened. The noise was repeated. - </p> - <p> - “Is it rain?” asked Juliette. - </p> - <p> - “No,” said Carpentaria, “it’s gravel.” - </p> - <p> - He went out on to the balcony. A form was discernible in the avenue below. - </p> - <p> - “Is that you, Miss Dartmouth?” he whispered. - </p> - <p> - “Yes,” came the reply. “I——” - </p> - <p> - “Hush!” he warned her. “I’ll be with you in a second.” - </p> - <p> - With a brief explanation to Juliette, he hastened downstairs and let - himself out of the house. Pauline was already standing at the door. - </p> - <p> - “Anything happened?” he questioned her. - </p> - <p> - “Nothing has happened,” said Pauline, “but there is something extremely - curious, all the same, in our house. It is a most singular thing that the - housemaid, who never forgets anything, forgot just to-night to leave some - milk in my room—a thing which I had specially reminded her to - remember, so I rang the bell for her. There is a bell that communicates - direct with her room—it used to be in Mrs. Ilam’s bedroom, but we - have had it changed—there was no answer. I rang again. No answer. - You know, I’m the sort of person that can’t stand that sort of thing from - servants, so I went upstairs to her. She was not in her room. There are - two beds in that room, the second one for the cook. Both beds were empty; - they had neither of them been slept in. I went into the rooms of the other - servants. They are all empty. Rosie and I and Mrs. Ilam are alone in the - house.” - </p> - <p> - Carpentaria paused. - </p> - <p> - “Did you tell your sister?” - </p> - <p> - “No, I came straight here.” - </p> - <p> - “That was very discreet of you,” said Carpentaria. - </p> - <p> - “I am beginning to get frightened,” Pauline added. “What can it mean? All - the servants gone——” - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0026" id="link2HCH0026"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER XXVI—The Empty Bedroom - </h2> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">W</span>ithin the bungalow - of the Ilams there remained only two persons who were legally entitled to - be there, and those persons were Mrs. Ilam, motionless for ever, but with - her bright, tragic eyes staring continually at the same point in the - ceiling, and Rosie Dartmouth. These two women, however, were decidedly not - alone in the house. It was a large house, a bungalow more by the character - of its architecture and its many balconies, than by its size and shape. - Most bungalows are long and low; this one was long without being low. On - the ground floor were the reception rooms and kitchen offices; on the - first floor were the principal bedrooms; and above these was a low-ceiled - floor of servants’ bedrooms. Nor was that all; for the steeply-sloping - roof had been utilized by an architect who hated to waste space as a miser - hates to waste money, and hence, above even the servants’ floor was a vast - attic, serviceable for storage. The attic was reached by a little flight - of stairs of its own, and it was lighted by two panes of glass let into - the roof, one on either side. - </p> - <p> - The ground-floor and the servants’ floor were now dark and uninhabited. On - the first floor the only occupied room was the bedchamber of Mrs. Ilam, - where Rosie stood nervously by the mantelpiece in an attitude of uneasy - expectation. The sole illumination was given by the small rose-shaded - lamp, which threw a circle of light on the white cloth of the invalid’s - night-table; all else, including Rosie, was in gloom. - </p> - <p> - Rosie was evidently listening—the door was ajar—and after a - few moments she stepped hastily outside on to the landing, and glanced up - the well of the staircase. At the summit of the staircase she saw the door - of the great attic open, and a figure emerge; the figure, which was - carrying a small electric lantern, carefully locked the door of the attic - behind it, and then, with some deliberation, descended the narrow attic - stairs, and, more quietly, the stairs from the servants’ floor to the - first floor. - </p> - <p> - The figure was that of Mr. Jetsam, clothed in his eternal suit of blue - serge. - </p> - <p> - The stairs and landing were quite dark, save for his lantern and the faint - glimmer that came from Mrs. Ilam’s bedroom. Mr. Jetsam had moved without a - sound, for he was wearing thick felt slippers. He did not immediately - notice Rosie on the landing, and when the light of his lantern caught and - showed her dress, he started back slightly. Rosie made no move. - </p> - <p> - “I did not expect you to be there,” he whispered. - </p> - <p> - She regarded him with steady eyes, and then, without a word, motioned him - to proceed further downstairs to the ground-floor. - </p> - <p> - “You want to talk to me?” he whispered again. - </p> - <p> - He had a voice which was curiously capable of being almost inaudible, and - yet at the same time distinct. - </p> - <p> - She nodded. - </p> - <p> - He pointed to the open door of Mrs. Ilam’s room, but Rosie shook her head. - </p> - <p> - “Why not?” he demanded. - </p> - <p> - She shook her head once more, and they went downstairs to the dining-room, - both silently creeping. With infinite precautions he opened the - dining-room door, and shut it when they had entered. - </p> - <p> - “It would have been better to remain upstairs,” he said mildly. “The least - possible movement is dangerous enough. At this stage a creaking stair - might spoil the whole business.” - </p> - <p> - “I cannot talk there,” she said. - </p> - <p> - “But, since Mrs. Ilam is utterly helpless,” he protested, “what can it - matter what she hears? She cannot talk.” - </p> - <p> - “The fact that she hears is more than enough to upset me,” said Rosie. “I - am like that, you see. I know it is silly, but I can’t help it. I wanted - to tell you that I have just had a dreadful scene with Pauline.” - </p> - <p> - “A dreadful scene! You’ve not quarrelled?” he demanded anxiously. - </p> - <p> - “Oh, no! But I’ve lied to her—I’ve lied to her in the most shocking - way, and, what is worse, I fancy she didn’t quite believe me.” - </p> - <p> - “She suspects something?” - </p> - <p> - His tone sounded apprehensive in the gloom. - </p> - <p> - “I don’t know; I hope not. In any case, what can she suspect? She’s been - in bed all the time.” - </p> - <p> - “True,” said Mr. Jetsam reflectively. “True! You have behaved - magnificently, Miss Rosie. Never, never, in this world, shall I be able to - thank you. I had not thought that such a woman as you existed. You have - given me the first sympathy I have ever had. Yes, the first!—without - you I could never have succeeded. I could scarcely have begun. And now I - shall succeed. Listen to me—I shall succeed! A wrong will be - righted. Justice will be done. If it isn’t, I shall kill myself.” - </p> - <p> - He finished grimly, as it were, ferociously. - </p> - <p> - “Don’t say that,” pleaded Rosie. - </p> - <p> - He laughed. Then he lifted the little lantern and threw its ray on her - face. She did not flinch. “You are very pale,” he remarked softly. - </p> - <p> - “What do you expect?” she answered. “You have gone much further—very - much further than I ever dreamt of. You have led me on.” - </p> - <p> - “No,” he said, “it is your own kindness of heart, your sympathy with the - unfortunate that has led you on. I assure you I was never so bold before I - met you, before I appealed to you that night when you stood on your - balcony. Do you regret? If you tell me to stop, to abandon my plans and - depart—well, I will depart.” - </p> - <p> - She smiled sadly. - </p> - <p> - “I do not want you to do that,” she said. “Nevertheless, I tremble for - what you have done.” - </p> - <p> - “Do not tremble,” he said coaxingly. “If I am not safe here, where am I - safe? Is not this the very last place where anyone would expect to find me - and my—my booty?” - </p> - <p> - “But, then, sending the servants away,” she exclaimed. - </p> - <p> - “Nothing simpler,” he commented. - </p> - <p> - “I don’t know how I did it,” she mused, as if aghast at the memory of what - she had achieved; “and as for to-morrow, how I shall explain it to Pauline - I really can’t imagine!” - </p> - <p> - “To-morrow,” he said, “everything will be over one way or the other; you - will be able to resume your habit of speaking the truth. By the way,” he - went on, in a tone carefully careless, “you managed to do what I asked you - with the boat?” - </p> - <p> - “Yes,” she replied. - </p> - <p> - “Did you meet anyone?” - </p> - <p> - “Not a soul.” - </p> - <p> - “And you pulled the plug out and cut the boat: adrift?” - </p> - <p> - “Pulled the plug out and cut the boat adrift!” she repeated after him, - amazed. “No; you never told me to do that!” - </p> - <p> - “Pardon me,” he said, “that was the most important thing of all. It is - essential that there should be no trace of the boat.” - </p> - <p> - “I didn’t understand,” she faltered. “I’m so sorry. I never heard——” - </p> - <p> - “I regret I didn’t make myself more clear,” he remarked. “You see, at - intervals during the night the watchmen do their patrols, and I know there - is a regular inspection of the terrace. Supposing the boat is seen?” - </p> - <p> - “I really don’t remember, that you asked me to do that,” she persisted. - </p> - <p> - “Anyhow,” he said politely, “what you have done deserves all my praise and - gratitude. But——” - </p> - <p> - “You would like me to go and sink the boat, wouldn’t you?” - </p> - <p> - “I hesitate to ask you. It is really too much——” - </p> - <p> - “Yes, yes,” she said passionately. “I will go and do it—alone.” Then - she paused. “But suppose I meet the patrol?” - </p> - <p> - “You are you,” was Jetsam’s response. “You are the President’s cousin. You - have the right to amuse yourself with a boat, at no matter what hour of - the day or night.” - </p> - <p> - “Just so,” she admitted. “I will go now. I shall be back quite soon. Shall - you be ready by the time I return?” - </p> - <p> - “Yes,” he said. - </p> - <p> - “Everything is all right?” She seemed to question him anxiously. - </p> - <p> - “Quite all right,” he said; “Let me thank you again.” - </p> - <p> - With an impulsive movement he took her hand and kissed it. She blushed and - trembled. Then he opened the door and they passed out into the hall. - </p> - <p> - “I will unfasten the front-door for you,” he whispered. “I think I can do - it more quietly than you. It may be left on the latch till you come back;” - and he unfastened the front-door. Through its panes a faint light entered - the hall. - </p> - <p> - “I must get my hat,” she said. - </p> - <p> - They went upstairs. - </p> - <p> - “I’ll leave you,” he whispered. “You can manage?” - </p> - <p> - She nodded. He put the light on a bracket on the landing and ascended to - the upper parts of the house. Rosie went into her bedroom. When she came - out, wearing a hat, she noticed for the first time that the door of - Pauline’s bedroom was not shut. She pushed it open very carefully, and - peered in. A feeble reflection of the moonlight redeemed it from absolute - obscurity, and Rosie perceived that the bed was unoccupied, that it had - not even been slept in. Instantly her mind became full of suspicions. Had - Pauline lied to her as she had lied to Pauline? Was her part in the plot - of Mr. Jetsam discovered? No, impossible! And yet—Then she - recollected having heard, or having thought that she had heard, the - distant ringing of one of the service-bells in the house some time before - Mr. Jetsam came downstairs. She had forgotten to mention this disturbing - fact to Mr. Jetsam. Evidently he had not heard the ringing, or he would - have questioned her about it. Supposing they were being watched, after - all? And in any case where was Pauline? Pauline had given her to - understand that she had retired to rest, and lo! the bed had not been - touched! Full of tremors, she silently shut the door on the empty room. - </p> - <p> - She remembered Jetsam’s threat of what he should do if his plans failed, - and she hesitated. - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0027" id="link2HCH0027"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER XXVII—The Photograph - </h2> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">M</span>r. Jetsam, having - with an attentive ear heard the vague sound of the shutting of a door, - came out a second time from the mysterious attic and descended the stairs. - He was a man to omit no precautions, and every door that he passed he - locked on the outside, not only on the servants’ floor, but on the first - floor. He penetrated then to the ground-floor, and fastened not merely - every door, but every window. At last he arrived at the front door. - </p> - <p> - “It’s a pity to lock her out,” he murmured to himself; “but what can I do? - It would be madness to let her assist at the scene I have to go through. - She expects to, but I must disappoint her.” - </p> - <p> - And he noiselessly bolted and locked the front door. - </p> - <p> - The fact was that Mr. Jetsam’s plans had been slightly deranged. He had - hoped to get through his great scene—the scene to which all his - efforts had tended—during Rosie’s first absence on the river. He - relied on Rosie; he had been amazed at her goodness and her fortitude; he - had been still more amazed at his singular influence over her; and he - naturally told her a great deal. But he did not tell her quite everything. - He feared to frighten her. Hence proceeded one of his reasons for sending - her to the boat, with the object of sinking the coffer further in the - river as the tide fell. But she had dispatched the business with such - extraordinary celerity, and he, on his part, had been so hindered by such - an unexpected contretemps, that she was back again before even he had - begun. - </p> - <p> - Thus, he had been obliged to invent a new errand for her, and he flattered - himself that he had invented the errand, and dispatched her on it, with a - certain histrionic skill—and he had the right so to flatter himself. - It desolated him to deceive her, to hoodwink her; but he saw no - alternative. - </p> - <p> - Having secured the house, he ascended again, this time taking less care to - maintain an absolute silence, to the first floor. The affair was fully - launched now, and no one could interrupt him. If Pauline awoke in her - locked bedroom and heard things, so much the worse for her, he reflected. - She could not go out on to her balcony because he had seen long ago to the - fastening of the window. Therefore she might cry as much as she liked. He - laughed as he thought of this, not having the least idea that he had so - elaborately fastened the door and the window of an empty room. - </p> - <p> - He went into Mrs. Ilam’s bedroom with a slight swagger, and shut the door. - A fire was burning in the grate. He cast a single glance at the bed and - its mute and helpless occupant, and putting his little lantern on the - mantelpiece, he walked round the room, inspecting its arrangement and its - corners. Then, suddenly remembering his own burglarious exploit of forcing - an entrance into the room by the window, he approached the window, flung - it wide open and stepped outside on to the balcony. Far across the expanse - of the Oriental Gardens, in the moonlight, he discerned a figure vaguely - moving in the direction of the river. It was a woman’s figure. - </p> - <p> - “There she is,” he murmured. “Admirable creature! Why did I not meet such - a woman when I was younger?” - </p> - <p> - Then he came in again, shut and fastened the window, and drew the heavy - curtains across it, taking care that no chink was left through which light - could be seen. Then he began to whistle softly, and he turned on all the - electricity in the apartment; there were a cluster of lamps in the - ceiling, and two lights over’ the dressing-table, besides the table-lamps, - and his own trifling gleam of a lantern. The room was brilliantly, almost - blindingly, lit, and every object stood revealed. - </p> - <p> - He stepped towards the bed, and deliberately gazed into the eyes of the - stricken old woman. Mrs. Ilam’s burning orbs blinked at intervals. - Otherwise she gave no sign of volition or of life. Jetsam placed his eyes - in the fixed line of her gaze, so that they were obliged to exchange a - glance. She appeared to be unconscious of it. Only a scarcely perceptible - trémulation ran along her arms, which lay stretched, as usual, outside the - coverlet, like the arms of a corpse. - </p> - <p> - “Well,” said Jetsam, “here I am at last, you see. Do you recognize me? - I’ve changed, haven’t I, old hag? But you can’t be mistaken in me.” - </p> - <p> - The pent-up bitterness of a lifetime escaped from him in the tones of his - voice. But the old woman showed no symptom that the terrible past was thus - revisiting her in its most awful form. - </p> - <p> - “You thought I was dead, didn’t you?” Jetsam continued. “For over forty - years you have been sure that I was dead, and that your crime was one of - the thousands of crimes which go unpunished. And look here,” he went on; - “if you have any doubt, murderess, as to my identity, look at this. I’ll - make you look at it, by heaven!” - </p> - <p> - He bent down, drew up the trouser of his left leg to the knee, and pushed - the sock into his boot, so that the calf of the leg was exposed. On the - fleshy part of the calf could be plainly seen a large birth-stain. With - the movement of an acrobat he raised that leg over the bed, over the eyes - of Mrs. Ilam, and held it there during several seconds. Then he dropped - it. - </p> - <p> - “There!” he exclaimed. “That’s to show you who it is you have to deal - with.” - </p> - <p> - His voice was cruel, icy, and inexorable. He had no pity, no trace of - mercy, for the woman who, whatever the enormity of her sins, was entitled - to some respect by reason of her extreme age, her absolutely defenceless - condition, and her suffering. - </p> - <p> - “They tell me you can answer ‘yes’ or ‘no,’” he said, “by your eyelids. - Blinking means ‘yes,’ and no movement means ‘no.’ I am going to put some - questions to you. Did you take the photograph out of the box? Answer.” - </p> - <p> - Mrs. Ilam closed her eyes and kept them closed. - </p> - <p> - “What does that mean?” Jetsam grumbled. “Open your eyes again, murderess.” - </p> - <p> - But Mrs. Ilam did not open her eyes again. She obstinately kept them - closed; and she might have been asleep, except that now and then a tear - exuded from under the lids. - </p> - <p> - “I’ll make you open them,” cried Jetsam. - </p> - <p> - His hand approached the old woman’s eyes, but even his implacable and - cruel bitterness recoiled from the coward villainy of touching that - stricken and helpless organism. He drew back his hand, and some glimmering - sense of the dreadfulness of the scene which he was acting reached his - heart. The thought ran through his brain that it was a good thing Rosie - had not been present. - </p> - <p> - “Very well,” he said, “as you like. Only I know that you, or one of you, - must have taken that photograph out of the box, and I have every reason to - believe that it is in this room. In any case I mean to know very shortly - whether it is or not.” - </p> - <p> - So saying, he went abruptly out of the room, shutting the door, and - climbed once more to the attic. - </p> - <p> - “Jakel” he called quietly. - </p> - <p> - And a Soudanese, the brother of Ilam’s protector, “Spats,” obediently - appeared. - </p> - <p> - “I am ready,” said Jetsam. “Come, pass in front of me. I will lock the - door myself.” - </p> - <p> - They went together to Mrs. Ilam’s bedroom. - </p> - <p> - “You know how to search, Jake?” Jetsam instructed him. “Everything in this - room has to be searched to find a photograph—a photograph, you know—the - same sort of thing as this.” And he pointed to a portrait of Josephus Ilam - that stood on the mantelpiece. - </p> - <p> - The Soudanese nodded. - </p> - <p> - “Begin with the chest of drawers,” he said. - </p> - <p> - In a quarter of an hour the room was in such a state of havoc as might - have resulted from the passage through it of a cyclone. Every drawer in - every piece of furniture had been ransacked and emptied. The Soudanese had - even climbed on a chair in order to inspect the top of the wardrobe, and - had dislodged therefrom a pile of cardboard boxes. Every book had been - torn to pieces. Piles of letters lay scattered about. The floor was heaped - up with Mrs. Ilam’s private possessions. Chairs were overturned. One or - two vases with narrow necks and wide bases had been smashed in order the - better to search their interiors. The place was wrecked. But the - mysterious photograph which Jetsam wanted had not been discovered. The - Soudanese had found dozens of photographs, but not the right one. - </p> - <p> - The bed of the invalid was alone undisturbed. Among all the ruins of the - chamber it remained untouched, white, apparently inviolate, and the old - woman’s arms lay ever in the same position, and her eyes, open and blazing - now, gazed ever at the same spot in the ceiling. - </p> - <p> - “I have it!” exclaimed Jetsam suddenly. “The bed—the bed! The box - was hidden under the bed, but I got it. The photograph is hidden under the - bed, and I will get it.” - </p> - <p> - He hesitated. Dare he search the bed? Dare he disturb its helpless burden? - He wondered. He was ready for anything. He was capable of slaughter, but - he wavered and retreated before the idea of searching for the photograph - in the place where the box had been. - </p> - <p> - Then he suddenly decided. - </p> - <p> - “Take firm hold of the bed itself, not the mattress,” he ordered the - Soudanese, “and I will take hold on this side. Be very gentle. Do not - disarrange the clothes. We will lift it over the foot of the bedstead and - place it on the floor. Carefully now—carefully!” - </p> - <p> - And with the utmost delicacy the two men lifted the bed bodily and laid it - very gently on the floor, and Mrs. Ilam’s gaze was directed to a new - point: of the ceiling. - </p> - <p> - “That will be a change for you,” said Jetsam, with a touch of compunction - in his voice. “I was obliged to do it. We’ll put you back presently.” - </p> - <p> - And he searched thoroughly the mattress and the bedstead, but there was no - photograph. - </p> - <p> - He paused and wiped, his brow. The Soudanese stood at attention by the - side of the bed. Jetsam looked at Jake. - </p> - <p> - “Go and fetch him down,” he said peremptorily to the Soudanese. - </p> - <p> - And Jake vanished. - </p> - <p> - “One way or another this shall end,” he murmured, gazing at the old woman - in her lowly position among the heaped confusion of the floor; and he - waited, eyeing at intervals the door. - </p> - <p> - At length the door opened, and the Soudanese came in, and he was leading - by the hand Josephus Ilam. Jetsam stepped quickly behind them and shut and - locked the door. - </p> - <p> - “Now then, Ilam,” said he, “sit down. Make him sit down, Jake.” - </p> - <p> - And quite obediently Ilam sat down on a chair, near the night-table. He - made no remark; he scarcely looked round; his senses seemed to be dulled; - it was as though his mind had retired to some fastness from which it - refused to emerge. - </p> - <p> - “What do you want?” Ilam demanded gloomily. “What have you been doing?” - </p> - <p> - “I’m going to make one last appeal to you, Ilam,” said Jetsam. “I - kidnapped you for this, I may tell you. I was determined to confront the - mother and the son if necessity should arise. But you nearly did for me by - swallowing too much of that blessed opiate. You are clumsy, even when you - are a victim. However, you’ve got over it nicely, haven’t you? Pretty - notion, wasn’t it,” he continued, “to conceal you in your own attic, where - no one would ever think of looking for you? But it wanted doing, my - weighty friend—it wanted doing.” - </p> - <p> - “What are you after?” Ilam asked again, as if in the grip of one fixed - idea. “You’ve got the money—what else do you want?” - </p> - <p> - “You know perfectly well what I want,” said Jetsam. “My case is complete - except for that photograph, and I’ve secured as much money as will keep me - on my pins till I’ve forced you to see reason. But the photograph is - lacking; you are aware of that. It’s certainly rather hard lines on you - that you should be forced to give up the very thing whose possession by me - will ruin you. But what would you have? I am desperate, and no one knows - better than you and this sad creature here that my cause is just. Tell me - where the photograph is.” - </p> - <p> - “I don’t know what you mean,” said Ilam doggedly. - </p> - <p> - Jetsam turned to Mrs. Ilam. - </p> - <p> - “Listen, murderess,” he said, and Ilam shuddered at that word: “if you do - not answer my questions I will kill your son before your eyes. Does Ilam - know where the photograph is?” - </p> - <p> - Once again the old woman obstinately shut her eyes and refused to give any - indication. - </p> - <p> - Ilam, who seemed mentally to be quickly regaining his normal state, stood - up and moved to the fireplace. - </p> - <p> - “Stand!” said Jetsam angrily, and he drew his revolver from his pocket. “I - will know where that photograph is or I will hang for you. I shall not be - the first man who has died in a good cause. Now, where is that photograph? - Did you or your mother take it out of the box?” - </p> - <p> - He lifted the revolver. - </p> - <p> - “I took it out of the box,” snarled Ilam—“I—I—I—and - my mother knew nothing.” - </p> - <p> - “And where is it?” asked Jetsam, smiling triumphantly. - </p> - <p> - “It is here,” Ilam cried, and he took a faded photograph from his breast - pocket. “You never thought of searching me, eh? Ass!” - </p> - <p> - “Give it me,” said Jetsam quietly. - </p> - <p> - “No,” said Ilam; and with a sudden movement he stuck it in the fire. - </p> - <p> - The flame destroyed it in an instant. - </p> - <p> - Jetsam sprang towards him, and then fell back as if stunned. Jetsam was - beaten, after all. He gave a sort of groan and walked to the other side of - the room, as if in a dream. He had failed, and he meant to commit suicide. - All his trouble, all his risks, had gone for nothing. He raised the - revolver again, and no one in the room quite guessed the tragedy that was - preparing for them. His finger was on the trigger. - </p> - <p> - Immediately behind him was a draught-screen, and the draught-screen began - mysteriously to sink forward. It lodged lightly on his shoulders. He - turned, the revolver at his temple; and round the screen, from behind it, - appeared Rosie. - </p> - <p> - “Don’t do that,” she said calmly, and she took the revolver out of his - unresisting hand. - </p> - <p> - Jetsam turned round, saw that the person who had so mysteriously - interfered was Rosie herself, and sank down on a chair. - </p> - <p> - “You have done me an evil turn,” he breathed, at the same time with a - gesture ordering the Soudanese to leave the room. - </p> - <p> - “I have saved your life,” she said simply. - </p> - <p> - “Yes,” he replied, with a trace of bitterness. “That is what I mean. You - are not the first who has saved my life. And if the first saviour had - refrained we should all have been happier now.” - </p> - <p> - “Do not say that,” she whispered. “I——” - </p> - <p> - “You—you would never have met me,” he said curtly. - </p> - <p> - “I am glad I have met you,” she retorted, bravely facing him. - </p> - <p> - “Ah!” he sighed. “And yet you play tricks on me! Yet you make promises to - me and break them!” - </p> - <p> - “No, no,” she cried. “I only promised to go to the boat, and I would have - gone to the boat afterwards.” - </p> - <p> - “Why did you not go at once?” - </p> - <p> - She told him how she had gone by accident into Pauline’s bedroom and found - it empty, and how thus all her suspicions were aroused. - </p> - <p> - “I was afraid your plans might fail,” she said; “and you had threatened to - kill yourself if they failed; and I thought something dreadful might - happen during my absence. And so—so—I hid myself here—without - thinking. I’m so sorry.” - </p> - <p> - And tears came to her eyes. - </p> - <p> - “A few minutes ago I might have been seriously perturbed by what you have - told me,” said Jetsam. “But what does it matter now? If your sister is - against me, if the house is surrounded by spies, it makes no difference. I - wanted to kill this man here. I should have killed him; but I thought of - the annoyance it would give you. Yes,” he smiled, “I did really. Not to - mention the futile trouble it would cause me. And on the whole I regarded - it as simpler and neater to kill myself. But you have stopped that. Will - you oblige me by putting down that revolver? It is at full cock.” - </p> - <p> - “You will not touch it?” she demanded. - </p> - <p> - “I will not touch it,” he replied. - </p> - <p> - She laid it at the foot of the bed, and then bent down inquiringly to old - Mrs. Ilam, who rested with closed eyes. - </p> - <p> - “She is asleep,” murmured Rosie. - </p> - <p> - “Through all this?” - </p> - <p> - “Yes, thank heaven! She sleeps very heavily sometimes. Will you not put - the bed back in its place? I do not like to see it here. It is painful, - very painful, in spite of all you have told me about her, to see this. She - is very old and very helpless.” During the conversation Ilam had remained - in a sort of stupor. It was as though the effort of putting the photograph - in the fire, and then the shock of Rosie’s sudden appearance, had - exhausted the energies which he had managed with difficulty to collect as - the results of the narcotic passed away; it was as though the narcotic had - resumed its sway over him for a time. But now he came brusquely forward, - taking two long steps across the room, and stood between Rosie and Jetsam, - and he put his face quite close to Rosie’s face, as an actor does to an - actress on the stage. - </p> - <p> - “Are you this scoundrel’s accomplice?” he asked hoarsely. - </p> - <p> - “Cousin,” said Rosie, “Mr. Jetsam is not a scoundrel, and I am nobody’s - accomplice.” - </p> - <p> - “He has nearly killed me, and he has robbed me of two thousand five - hundred pounds,” pursued Ilam. “If that is not being a scoundrel, what is? - Tell me that. You are his accomplice. You came into this house to serve - his ends.” - </p> - <p> - “Indeed, I did not,” protested Rosie, “I came into this house with my - sister at your urgent request.” - </p> - <p> - “Yes,” sneered Ilam. “That is what you made me believe, you chit! You - worked it very well; but I know different now.” - </p> - <p> - “Until I came here I had never seen Mr. Jetsam,” said Rosie. - </p> - <p> - “You have come to understand each other remarkably well in quite a few - days.” - </p> - <p> - “Perhaps we have,” admitted the girl. “But if you object you have a simple - remedy.” - </p> - <p> - “What is that?” - </p> - <p> - “You say he is a thief and almost a murderer. You say that I am his - accomplice; we are criminals therefore. Bring us to justice. Have the - entire affair thrashed out, Cousin Ilam.” - </p> - <p> - “You know that I cannot do that,” said Ilam. - </p> - <p> - “I am well aware that you dare not,” said Rosie. “The scandal would be - intolerable. Think of Pauline’s feelings.” - </p> - <p> - “But suppose Pauline, too, is in the conspiracy?” - </p> - <p> - “There would always be the scandal. It would ruin the City.” - </p> - <p> - “It is neither the scandal nor the City that you are thinking of, Cousin - Ilam,” said Rosie. “It is merely yourself or your mother. If it is your - mother, well and good.” - </p> - <p> - Ilam retired a couple of paces, uncertain what to say in reply, and - possibly fearing some attack from Mr. Jetsam, who stood behind him. There - was a silence, and then Ilam murmured: - </p> - <p> - “Ah! my poor mother, sleeping there in the midst of all this!” - </p> - <p> - It was a cry from the strange man’s heart, and another silence ensued. The - situation had reached such a point as baffled all the parties to it to - discover a solution. - </p> - <p> - It was Jetsam who broke the silence. - </p> - <p> - “I will leave you,” he said in a low voice. - </p> - <p> - “Good-bye,” he said, as no one replied. - </p> - <p> - “Where are you going to?” asked Rosie. - </p> - <p> - “I am merely going,” answered Jetsam. - </p> - <p> - “But you will tell me where?” she insisted. - </p> - <p> - “It is vague,” he replied. “Out of your life—that is all I can say. - It was too much to hope that at the end of a career which has been one - long and uninterrupted misfortune the sun of happiness should shine on me. - I was destined to failure from the beginning. You do not know all my - story; but you know some of it—enough to enable you, perhaps, to - forgive me. Good-bye!” - </p> - <p> - He moved to the door. - </p> - <p> - “You will not leave me like that,” said Rosie. “You dare not leave me like - that. You are going to kill yourself.” - </p> - <p> - “No,” he said. “I have got over that caprice, I think. I shall drag out my - existence to its natural end.” - </p> - <p> - “Give me your address,” Rosie said doggedly. - </p> - <p> - He shook his head. - </p> - <p> - “You are cruel,” she whimpered. “After——” - </p> - <p> - She was interrupted by Ilam himself, who said: - </p> - <p> - “Rosie, go downstairs. I have two words to speak to this fellow. Go - downstairs. Leave us.” His tone was cold and acid. - </p> - <p> - “Yes,” Jetsam agreed after a moment. “Leave us; we have to speak to each - other.” - </p> - <p> - “You will not go without seeing me?” asked Rosie. - </p> - <p> - “I will not,” replied Jetsam, and the next instant the two men were alone - together in the room, save for the unconscious form of Mrs. Ilam. - </p> - <p> - The door had been locked again, this time by Ilam. - </p> - <p> - “She is in love with you,” Ilam shouted fiercely. “You have imposed on - her; you have taken advantage of her ignorance of life, and she is in love - with you! It is infamous. I am stronger than you, and unless you promise - me——” - </p> - <p> - “Idiot!” Jetsam stopped him. “What are you raving about? You must be mad. - You must have forgotten—as your mother forgets. As for this poor - girl being in love with me——-” He stopped with a hard laugh. - “What has that to do with you?” - </p> - <p> - “It has everything to do with me,” cried Ilam, and, as if transported by - fury, he suddenly sprang on Jetsam, who was all unprepared, and, clasping - him in a murderous embrace, threw him to the ground. “I’ve had enough of - you,” he ground out the words through his teeth. “And if I finish you, I - can easily show that it was in self-defence.” - </p> - <p> - And he had scarcely spoken when his hands fell lax in astonishment and - alarm, for immediately outside the window, or so it seemed, there sounded - four notes of a trombone, brazen, clear, and imposing in the night. No one - who has heard Beethoven’s greatest symphony will ever forget the four - notes—commonly called the notes of fate—with which the most - tremendous of musical compositions opens. It was these notes which the - trombone had given forth. There was a silence, and the instrument repeated - them, and in the next pause that followed, the two men who an instant - before had been joined in a dreadful struggle, lay moveless, listening to - their own breathing; and a third time the trombone sounded. - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0028" id="link2HCH0028"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER XXVIII—The Dead March - </h2> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">W</span>hen Pauline, - standing outside Carpentaria’s bungalow, had communicated to Carpentaria - the fateful fact that all Ilam’s servants had disappeared from their - rooms, and had given expression to the vague and terrible fear that was - beginning to take possession of her, the musician said in reply: - </p> - <p> - “You have every reason to be afraid, and yet I shall ask you to try to - calm your apprehensions. Whether the servants are there or not, nobody can - get into your house without our knowing it, and when anybody starts to - attempt to get in, there will be plenty of time for you to alarm yourself - then.” - </p> - <p> - “But Rosie alone there with poor Mrs. Ilam!” sighed Pauline. - </p> - <p> - “Mrs. Ilam can’t do her any harm, at any rate,” said Carpentaria - comfortingly. - </p> - <p> - And with that he commenced a cautious perambulation of the exterior of - Ilam’s house, Pauline following him. - </p> - <p> - “I wish you would go to my sister until I have something to report,” he - murmured. “You will take cold, and you will work yourself up into a fever, - and do no good to anybody.” - </p> - <p> - “I shall not work myself up into a fever,” replied Pauline firmly. “I am - capable of being just as calm as you are yourself. Let us go at once into - the house—let us go to Rosie.” - </p> - <p> - “What!” expostulated Carpentaria, “and spoil whatever scheme is going on? - No, my dear young lady, we have gone so far that we must go a little - further. We must catch the schemers red-handed. If we do not, our night’s - work will have been wasted.” - </p> - <p> - The idea of weakly and pusillanimously changing a course of conduct at the - very moment when that course promised the most interesting adventures - shocked all the artist in him. - </p> - <p> - They stared blankly at the house, whose form was clearly revealed in the - misty moonlight, but none of whose windows showed the slightest glimmer of - light. It was an extremely modern tenement, and its architecture was in no - way startlingly original; nevertheless, in those moments it seemed to both - of them the strangest, the most mysterious, the most insubstantial house - that the hand of man had ever raised. - </p> - <p> - Suddenly Pauline clutched his arm. - </p> - <p> - “I hear some one walking somewhere in the grounds,” she said. - </p> - <p> - They both listened. In the stillness of the night regular steps sounded - plainly from a distance. - </p> - <p> - “It is the patrol on the terrace,” said Carpentaria. - </p> - <p> - “It is assuredly on the terrace—the sound of heavy boots on stone - flags, isn’t it?” - </p> - <p> - “Yes,” Pauline agreed, loosing his arm. - </p> - <p> - They were twenty or thirty yards from the house. - </p> - <p> - “I want you to be brave and to do something for me.” - </p> - <p> - Carpentaria turned to her. - </p> - <p> - “What is it?” - </p> - <p> - “Go to the patrol, and tell him I have sent you, and that he is to remain - within sight of the boat there, until further orders, keeping as much in - the background as possible. Will you go?” - </p> - <p> - “Alone?” - </p> - <p> - “Alone. There is no danger. Besides, one of us must remain here, and one - person can more easily keep out of sight than two. My fear is that the - boat may be used again. The patrol is not to prevent the boat being used. - He is not to show himself; he is merely to observe. You understand?” - </p> - <p> - “Then you insist on my going?” - </p> - <p> - “No, I entreat you to go.” - </p> - <p> - And without more words she went. It was her figure, and not the figure of - Rosie, that Mr. Jetsam had seen in the gardens when he peeped out of the - window of Mrs. Ilam’s bedroom. - </p> - <p> - Carpentaria, now alone, recommenced from a fresh spot his vigil over the - closed house. He argued with himself with much ingenuity as to what point - the persons who wished to enter it would choose for their appearance, but - he could decide nothing. They might, he thought, come by the avenue, or - round by the back from the other side of the buildings of the Central Way, - or even through the gardens. He was growing impatient of a delay - apparently interminable, and then his glance happened to wander upwards to - the roof of the house. He could not see the roof itself, because he was - now too near the wall, but it appeared to him that he detected a - phenomenon above the roof which was somewhat unusual. He walked carefully - away from the house until the expanse of roof became visible; and, indeed, - he had not been mistaken. There was a radiance there. The small square - pane of the attic, flat with the surface of the roof itself, was - illuminated, and sent up a faint shaft of light into the sky. - </p> - <p> - Instantly he saw his own shortcomings as a counter-schemer against - schemers. He had assumed that the schemers were not already in the house, - whereas he had had no grounds for such an assumption. The schemers were - most obviously in the house, and they had most obviously been there for a - considerable time, since no one could have recently entered it without his - knowledge. He was angry with the schemers, and he was more angry with - himself, and one of those wild ideas seized him—one of those ideas - which could only occur to a Carpentaria. He would catch these schemers - himself, by his own devices, and he would do it leisurely, dramatically, - and effectively. He would make such a capture as never had been made - before. He did not know precisely who the schemers were, nor their - numbers, nor their nefarious occupations in the house; and he did not - care. When once he was in the toils of a grand romantic idea he cared for - nothing except the execution of it. He laughed with joy. - </p> - <p> - “Why do you laugh?” said a voice behind him. - </p> - <p> - It was Pauline, who had returned. She had given the instructions to the - patrol. - </p> - <p> - “An idea,” he replied—“a notion that appealed to me.” And then he - perceived that he must at all costs get rid of Pauline, and he continued: - “My sister is extremely disturbed,” he said. “Will you not, as a last - favour, go and stay with her? Do not refuse me this. I will find some one - to assist me in my work here—one of my trombone-players on whom I - can rely. I—I really do not care for you to be out here like this. - The strain is too much for you.” - </p> - <p> - “But Rosie——” she objected again. - </p> - <p> - “Rosie is all right,” he reassured her. “I will answer for Rosie’s safety - with my life; and when I say that, I mean it.” - </p> - <p> - “I will do as you wish,” said Pauline at length. - </p> - <p> - “Let me see you into the house,” he murmured, enchanted. - </p> - <p> - He unlocked his front-door for her, and called out softly, “Juliette!” - </p> - <p> - “Is that you, Carlos?” said a voice in the darkness at the top of the - stairs. - </p> - <p> - “Yes,” he said. “Here is Miss Dartmouth come to keep you company. Do not - use a light—at least, use as little light as possible, until you - hear some music.” - </p> - <p> - “Hear some music? What music?” - </p> - <p> - “Never mind what music. If you should hear some music you will know that - you are at liberty to turn on all the lights you like. Miss Dartmouth will - tell you why I want darkness at present. Here are the stairs, Miss - Dartmouth. Cling to the rail. <i>Au revoir.</i>” - </p> - <p> - “But——” faltered Pauline. - </p> - <p> - “<i>Au revoir</i>, I said,” he whispered insistently. - </p> - <p> - Before leaving the house he rushed into the kitchen, found a long - clothes-line, of which he seemed to know exactly the whereabouts, and - appropriated it. - </p> - <p> - The next minute he was tying the handle of Ilam’s front-door firmly to the - railing, so that it would be impossible to open the door from the inside. - He secured in the same manner the side-door and also the gate in the wall - of the kitchen yard. He then fixed pieces of rope under windows, in such a - manner that a person endeavouring to leap from a window to the ground - would almost certainly be caught in the rope, and break a leg or an arm, - if not a neck or so. - </p> - <p> - “Cheerful for them!” he murmured maliciously. “I only hope it won’t be - Miss Rosie who tries to make her exit by the window. I have answered for - her. However, I must take the risks.” - </p> - <p> - He glanced finally round the house, throwing away some short unused pieces - of rope, but keeping two long pieces. He surveyed the house with - satisfaction. - </p> - <p> - “I think I can safely leave it for five minutes or so now,” he said to - himself; and he shut his penknife with a vicious snap and put it in his - pocket. - </p> - <p> - Then he ran off at a great speed in the direction of the Central Way. At - the southern end of the Central Way, nearly opposite to the general - offices of the City, was an elegant building known as the band-house. Here - dwelt the majority of the members of Carpentaria’s world-renowned - orchestra. Some members, being married to women instead of married to - their art, had permission to possess domestic hearths in London and the - suburbs, but these were few. The edifice was a very large one, as it. had - need to be. A peculiar feature of it was the rehearsal-room on the top - floor, constructed, like the finest flats in New York, in such a manner as - to be absolutely sound-proof. - </p> - <p> - Carpentaria rang the electric bell at the portals of the band-house, and - the portals were presently opened by a sleepy person whose duty it was to - admit bandsmen returning after late leave. - </p> - <p> - “Look ’ere,” said the porter, “this is a bit thick, this is. Do you - know as the hour is exactly——” - </p> - <p> - “Hold your tongue, you fool!” Carpentaria stopped him briefly, “and go and - bring Mr. Bruno to me at once; it’s very important. Let’s have some - light.” - </p> - <p> - “I beg pardon, sir,” said the porter, astounded by this nocturnal - apparition of the autocrat of the band. “Mr. Bruno is asleep, sir. He had - two whiskies to make him sleep, and went to bed afore midnight, sir.” - </p> - <p> - “I know he’s asleep. Do you suppose I thought he was standing on his head - waiting for the dawn? Go and waken him—and quicker than that! Here, - I’ll go with you.” - </p> - <p> - The two men went upstairs together, and Mr. Bruno, principal - trombone-player of the band, was soon sitting up in bed, awaking to the - presence of his chief. - </p> - <p> - “Bruno, my lad,” said Carpentaria, “give me your trombone.” - </p> - <p> - “My trombone, sir?” - </p> - <p> - “Yes,” said Carpentaria. “Mendelssohn once remarked that the trombone was - an instrument too sacred to use often, but I think the supreme occasion - has arrived for me to use it to-night.” - </p> - <p> - “It’s there, in the corner, sir,” said Bruno, wondering vaguely what was - this latest caprice of Carpentaria’s. - </p> - <p> - Carpentaria rushed to the thing, took it out of its case, and put it to - his mouth. - </p> - <p> - “H’m!” he murmured, after he had sounded a note gently. “I can do it, I - think. Listen, Bruno! The occasion is not only supreme; it is unique. You - are to rouse all the men; you are to dress, and take your instruments; and - you are to go out quietly and surround the bungalow of our honoured - President, Mr. Josephus Ilam. You are to make no noise of any kind until - you hear me give the first bars of a tune, either with my mouth or with - this instrument. You are then to join in that tune.” - </p> - <p> - “What tune, sir?” - </p> - <p> - “You will hear.” - </p> - <p> - “Where shall you be, sir?” - </p> - <p> - “You will see. Get up, now; don’t lose a second.” Carpentaria was off - again. He returned to Ilam’s house, and climbed to the balcony of the - window of Mrs. Ilam’s bedroom. It was fortunate that he had preserved the - rope, for he could not have climbed with the trombone in his arms. His - method was to leave the trombone on the ground, the rope tied to it; he - kept the other end of the rope in his hand, and drew the trombone after - him. - </p> - <p> - Then it was that he sounded on the trombone the terrible phrase of - Beethoven’s, which put a period to the struggle between Ilam and Jetsam. - </p> - <p> - He felt for the handle of the French window, and, finding the window - fastened on the inside, adopted the simple device of leaning with his full - weight against the window-frame. The whole thing gave way, and through a - crashing of glass, a splintering of wood, and the tearing of curtains he - backed into the room, the trombone held precariously in one hand and his - revolver very firmly in the other. - </p> - <p> - The scene that confronted him was sufficiently surprising. Amid the - extraordinary disorder of the chamber he found its three occupants all - stretched on the floor. The old woman was apparently oblivious, but the - two men, releasing each other, gazed at him for all the world like two - schoolboys caught in an act contrary to discipline. - </p> - <p> - “Did I startle you? I hope so,” said Carpentaria, when he had found his - bearings. “I meant to.” - </p> - <p> - Jetsam was the first to rise. - </p> - <p> - “You with the red hair!” cried Jetsam. “You are trying to save my life - again!” - </p> - <p> - “Never mind my red hair,” said Carpentaria, ruffled. “I am not trying to - save anybody’s life. I’m here on a mission of inquiry. No one leaves this - room until I have had a full explanation of everything. I have stood just - about as much as I can stand of the mystery that has been hanging over - this City for a week past. Ilam, let me beg you to get up and take a seat - over there in that corner. Thanks!” - </p> - <p> - He relinquished the musical instrument as Ilam clumsily resumed his feet - and obeyed. - </p> - <p> - “As for you, Mr. Jetsam,” continued Carpentaria, “you know, from accounts - which have reached me, the precise moral effect of a loaded revolver such - as I am now pointing at you. Go into the other corner.” - </p> - <p> - “I won’t,” said Jetsam. “You can fire if you like. As a matter of fact, - you daren’t.” - </p> - <p> - “You propose to leave the room and defy me?” - </p> - <p> - “I propose to leave the room.” - </p> - <p> - “Listen,” said Carpentaria. - </p> - <p> - He took the trombone and blew on it loudly a few notes which neither - Jetsam nor Ilam immediately recognized. But the musicians, who had by this - time surrounded the house, recognized them. And at once there entered by - the smashed window the solemn and moving strains of the Dead March in - “Saul.” The house seemed to be ringed in a circle of awful melody. - </p> - <p> - Jetsam shuddered. - </p> - <p> - “Now kindly stay where you are,” said Carpentaria. - </p> - <p> - And Jetsam stayed where he was, at the foot of the bed, his back to Mrs. - Ilam’s prone figure. - </p> - <p> - The playing continued. - </p> - <p> - “What foolery is this?” demanded Ilam slowly. - </p> - <p> - “It is part of a larger piece of foolery that has rescued you, Ilam,” - Carpentaria replied, and he was crossing the room to approach Ilam, when - he saw something in the looking-glass over the mantelpiece, and he started - back. - </p> - <p> - Mrs. Ilam, the paralytic, roused in some strange way, either by the - violence of the scenes at which she had assisted, or by the inexplicable - influence of the music, was almost erect in her bed, and her trembling - parchment hands had seized the revolver which Rosie had left on the floor, - and she was endeavouring to point it between Jetsam’s shoulders. The other - two men turned and saw the fatal and appalling movement of the aged - creature, who was evidently in the grip of some tremendously powerful - instinct—the kind of instinct that only dies with death. - </p> - <p> - Carpentaria alone retained his self-possession. With a swift and yet - gentle movement he disarmed the terrible old woman, and she sank back, - with streaming eyes, helpless and moveless as before. The incident was - over in a few seconds. - </p> - <p> - “And now,” said Carpentaria, “I will hear your story, Mr. Jetsam. But - first, we must lift this bed back to its proper-position.” - </p> - <p> - “Very well,” replied Jetsam, trembling in spite of himself. “You shall - hear my story.” - </p> - <p> - The music ceased. - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0029" id="link2HCH0029"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER XXIX—Mr. Jetsam’s Recital - </h2> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">W</span>e will go - downstairs,” said Carpentaria, when a certain amount of order had been - restored to the room. “We shall be more at ease there.” - </p> - <p> - “No,” cried Jetsam, and there was a note of passion in his voice. “This - old woman shall hear my tale. I tell it in her presence, or I tell it not - at all.” Carpentaria gazed at Mrs. Ilam’s eyes, which made no response. - Her bed was now replaced in its proper position, and those strange burning - eyes perused their old spot in the ceiling. After the brief and terrible - return of activity to that stricken body, it seemed to have sunk back into - a condition of helplessness more absolute even than before. The eyes - burned, but not quite with their former disturbing brilliance. - </p> - <p> - “Very well,” Carpentaria agreed. - </p> - <p> - Ilam was already seated, apparently half-comatose. The other two men each - seized a chair. And then there was a timid but insistent knocking. - </p> - <p> - “What is that?” demanded Carpentaria of Jetsam. “You ought to know; you - have been master here for some hours.” - </p> - <p> - “It is Miss Rosie, I imagine,” Jetsam answered. “Your singular music has - startled her.” - </p> - <p> - Carpentaria walked rapidly to the door, unlocked it, and opened it. Rosie - it indeed was who stood there. - </p> - <p> - “Ah, my dear young lady,” he said lightly, without giving her an - opportunity even to express her astonishment. “I would like you to go to - your sister, who is in my house over the way. But I fear you cannot open - any of the doors. Won’t you retire and rest a little, after your - complicated labours?” He smiled a little grimly. “Everything is all right - here, and should your aged relative need your ministrations you may rely - on me to call you. In the meantime, your cousin and I, and your particular - friend Mr. Jetsam, must have a chat on business matters.” - </p> - <p> - He bowed, covering the aperture of the door with his body so that Rosie - could not see inside the room. As for Rosie, she hesitated. - </p> - <p> - “I entreat you,” he insisted, “go and rest, and don’t have anything more - to do with boats; you might drown yourself. And believe me when I say that - nothing further will be done in secret. The moment I am free I will - endeavour to free the doors.” - </p> - <p> - Rosie moved reluctantly away down the landing. She had not spoken a word. - Carpentaria closed the portal softly and retired to his chair. - </p> - <p> - “You have my attention,” he remarked significantly to Mr. Jetsam. - </p> - <p> - “Well,” said Jetsam, after a moment’s pause. “It goes back a very long - time, this affair does, Mr. Carpentaria. It certainly began before you - were born—down at Torquay. Torquay, according to what they tell me, - was not the place then that it is now, not by a considerable distance; but - it was fashionable. It had got a bit of a name as a good place to go and - get fat in. Perhaps that was why a certain soda-water manufacturer went - there to spend a year or so. He was a very wealthy man, and he rented a - villa there. It’s one of those villas on the top of the hill between Union - Street and the sea, and it still exists. His age was about fifty, and he - was supposed to be worth half a million or so—all made out of gas - and splutter, you see. Being supposed to be worth half a million or so, of - course he soon had the entire population of Torquay knocking at his door - and throwing cards into his card-basket. He made a wide circle of friends - in rather less than no time, and being a simple, decent creature, though - not faultless, he was pretty well pleased with himself. Now among the - friends that he made was a certain widow, age uncertain—but in the - neighbourhood of thirty, and her name was Kilmarnock.” - </p> - <p> - At this time Mr. Jetsam stood up, and bending over Mrs. Ham’s bed with his - smile so ruthlessly cruel, he repeated, staring at the invalid: - </p> - <p> - “Her name was Kilmarnock, wasn’t it?” - </p> - <p> - Mrs. Ilam made no sign. Mr. Jetsam resumed his chair. - </p> - <p> - “A pretty woman, I believe she was, with magnificent black eyes; the most - wonderful eyes in the West Country, people said,” Mr. Jetsam proceeded. - “Husband dead some little time. Anyhow, she had gone out of mourning, and - her dresses were the amazement of the town. They’d look pretty queer - nowadays, I reckon, because that was before 1860. However, her dresses - have got nothing to do with it, especially as the soda-water manufacturer—have - I happened to mention that his name was Ilam?—especially as Mr. Ilam - couldn’t see them very well. Mr. Ilam was beginning to suffer from a - cataract; both his eyes were affected, and the disease was making progress - rapidly. You must remember that oculists didn’t know as much about - cataract then as they do now. Well, Mr. Ilam was himself a widower—a - widower with one child, aged three years. He had been a widower for two - years when he first met Mrs. Kilmarnock. He liked Mrs. Kilmarnock. She - seemed to have in her the makings of a good nurse, and one of the things - that Mr. Ilam wanted was a faithful, loving nurse. He was certainly in an - awkward predicament. He also wanted a mother for his child; and Mrs. - Kilmarnock took a tremendous fancy to the child—a simply tremendous - fancy. He was a man who talked pretty freely and openly, Mr. Ilam was, and - he made no secret of the fact that, though he preferred to marry a widow, - he would never permit himself to marry a widow who had children of her - own. And one day he said to Mrs. Kilmarnock that, since he had never heard - her mention a child, he assumed that she had no children. - </p> - <p> - “She replied that his assumption was correct, and that she continually - regretted being childless, as she adored children, and felt very severely - the need of something to give her a real interest in life. A month later - Mr. Ilam asked Mrs. Kilmarnock to marry him, and she consented like a - bird. Three months later they were married. Everybody said kind things; - for you must know that Mrs. Kilmarnock was not penniless herself. Oh, no! - She lived in very good style in Torquay, and gave dinners that Torquay - liked. And Torquay is a good judge of dinners. Her husband had been a - Scottish writer to the Signet, she said. So the marriage was celebrated - amid universal plaudits, and there was quite three-quarters of a column - about it in the <i>Western Morning News</i>.” - </p> - <p> - At this juncture Carpentaria ventured to interrupt the speaker. - </p> - <p> - “You appear,” he said, “to be remarkably well informed about matters which - occurred long before you were of an age to take an intelligent interest in - them. At the time of this marriage you surely were not in the habit of - reading newspapers?” - </p> - <p> - “I was not,” answered Jetsam drily. “I had attained the mature age of - three years. If I am well informed it is because I have taken the trouble - to inform myself. You see, I was interested, and I have spared no pains - during this last year or two to acquire all the circumstantial details of - the case.” - </p> - <p> - “I perceive,” said Carpentaria. “But how were you interested?” - </p> - <p> - “You will understand presently,” said Jetsam. “To continue. This Mrs. - Kilmarnock, whom we must now call Mrs. Ilam, used, both before and after - her second marriage, to pay visits to the town of Teignmouth, and these - visits were, not to put too fine a point on it, of an extremely discreet - nature; they were, in fact, strictly secret. Mrs. Ilam fell into the habit - of telling her husband that she was going to Exeter to shop, but instead - of going to Exeter she went only as far as Teignmouth. She was always - dressed very simply indeed for these Teignmouth visits. She used to walk - through the town from the station, and, having taken the ferry across the - Teign, she walked up the right bank of the river till she came to a - cottage that stood by itself in the marshy land thereabouts. At the - cottage an old man and woman and a little boy would meet her. And the - strange thing was that the old man spoke French; he could not speak - English. You may possibly not be aware that onion-boats from the coast of - Brittany are constantly arriving at the smaller Devonshire ports, such as - Torquay and Teignmouth. The old man was a Breton peasant, with all the - characteristics of a Breton peasant, who had arrived at Teignmouth once in - an onion-boat, and forgotten to go back again because he fell in love with - an Englishwoman—a Devonshire lass with a soft drawling accent. So - Mrs. Ilam used to talk to the Breton peasant in French, and to his wife in - English, and to the boy in baby language. She would cover the boy with - kisses; she would call him by pet names, and she saw him at least once a - week.” - </p> - <p> - “He was her son?” Carpentaria put in interrogatively. - </p> - <p> - “You have naturally guessed it,” Jetsam responded. “He was her son.” - </p> - <p> - “But if she was really a widow, and this was really her son, why did she——” - </p> - <p> - “Oh,” cried Jetsam, “I think she was really a widow, and there is not the - slightest shadow of doubt that this was really her son. Perhaps she kept - him a secret from Torquay because she felt that he might prove an obstacle - to the achievement of her desires in Torquay. Anyhow, she loved him - passionately. Her son was, beyond question, the greatest passion of her - life.” He turned abruptly again to the old woman, “Wasn’t he?” he - demanded. - </p> - <p> - And the aged creature’s burning eyes were filled with tears. - </p> - <p> - “I think perhaps it might be as well to leave Mrs. Ilam out of the - conversation,” suggested Carpentaria. - </p> - <p> - “Impossible to leave her out of the conversation,” said Jetsam quickly, - “because the conversation is almost exclusively about her. However, I will - not trouble her any more for confirmation of what I say. Well, for nearly - a year after her second marriage these clandestine visits of Mrs. Ilam to - the cottage on the banks of the Teign continued with the most perfect - regularity, and then something extremely remarkable happened.” - </p> - <p> - “What was that?” - </p> - <p> - “First, I must tell you that soon after the marriage Mr. Ilam’s cataract - got rapidly worse. In six months he could only distinguish objects - vaguely. He could not read anything except shop signs. In Mrs. Ilam he - found an admirable nurse and companion. Except for her shopping excursions - to Exeter she never left his side. She was a model wife, and all Torquay - admitted the fact. Even when Mr. Ilam’s impaired vision rendered him - captious, querulous, and indeed unbearable, she remained sweetness itself; - and Mr. Ilam would not admit anyone but her to his presence. He even took - a dislike to his child, his only son, and the infant was left in the - charge of servants and governesses, except that Mrs. Ilam saw him as - frequently as she could.” - </p> - <p> - “But this is not very remarkable,” said Carpentaria, “such things are - constantly happening.” - </p> - <p> - “I am coming to the remarkable part,” replied Jetsam, with a certain - solemnity of manner. “One day the old Breton fisherman told Mrs. Ilam that - a relative had left him property in his native district, and that he had - persuaded his wife to go with him to France so that they might end their - days there. Mrs. Ilam was extremely disturbed by this piece of news, - because she did not know what to do with the boy. She asked the Frenchman - how soon he proposed to leave, and the Frenchman said in about three - weeks. She left and said she would come back again in a few days. It is at - this point that the remarkable begins. Within a week all Torquay was made - aware that Mr. Ilam, at the solicitation of his wife, had decided to go to - Paris to consult a great specialist there.” - </p> - <p> - “I see,” breathed Carpentaria, while Ilam’s face wore at length a look of - interest. - </p> - <p> - “I doubt if you do see,” said Jetsam. “You think that Mrs. Ilam was - arranging to go to Paris in order to be nearer her son. Well, she was, but - not at all in the way you imagine. They departed from Torquay almost at - once, and in a somewhat remarkable manner, for Mrs. Ilam dismissed every - servant, even her own maid and Mr. Ilam’s man, and the child’s nurse—all - were dismissed in Torquay itself—and Mr. Ilam and his wife and child - left Torquay railway station entirely unaided, except by porters and the - domestics of a hotel. Mrs. Ilam would certainly have all her work cut out - to conduct the expedition, for you must remember that at this period Mr. - Ilam was practically blind. Well, they had to change at Exeter and catch - the Plymouth express, and at Exeter the old French peasant was waiting on - the platform, evidently by arrangement, and he held Mrs. Ilam’s own little - boy by the hand, and Mrs. Ilam and the peasant had a long talk by - themselves, and then the express came in, and the Ilams got into it, and - the express started off again for London, and the French peasant was left - standing on the platform holding the little boy by the hand. You see?” - </p> - <p> - “No,” said Carpentaria bluntly. - </p> - <p> - “Well,” proceeded Jetsam. “It was not the same little boy that the peasant - held by the hand. Mrs. Ilam had taken her own child with her, and left - behind her step-child.” - </p> - <p> - “Great heavens!” murmured Carpentaria. “Exactly,” said Jetsam. “Only the - heavens didn’t happen to interfere. This was no common case of - substitution at birth, it was a monstrously ingenious change which Mrs. - Ilam, out of her passionate love for her own son, had planned and carried - out in a manner suggested to her by the facts of the situation. Consider. - The two boys were the same age—about three years—and they were - dressed alike, Mrs. Ilam had seen to that. Mr. Ilam is nearly blind, - certainly he could not distinguish one child of three from another child - of three, even if they had been dressed differently. Moreover, Mr. Ilam is - not interested in the child. He is wrapped up in his own complaint, a - ferocious egotist, like most sufferers. Probably the child sleeps during - the journey to London—probably Mrs. Ilam gives him something to make - him sleep. The party arrive at Paddington, and are met by a new set of - servants whom Mrs. Ilam has engaged. She left Torquay with a child; she - arrived at Paddington with a child. Who, except the old French peasant, is - to know that there has been a change <i>en route?</i> The new child is - kept entirely out of Mr. Ilam’s presence. He is taught his new name; he is - taught to forget his past on the banks of the Teign; and he readily - succeeds in doing so. His new nurse is suitably discreet. During their - brief stay in London the Ilams stop at a hotel. They do not visit friends, - on the plea of Mr. Ilam’s complaint. Then they leave London for Paris.” - </p> - <p> - “The thing was perfect,” observed Carpentaria, astounded. - </p> - <p> - “It was fatally perfect,” Jetsam agreed. “Even had Mr. Ilam been cured at - once, the danger would have been but slight, because he had never seen his - own child clearly. However, Mr. Ilam was not cured at once, for it - happened that the famous oculist whom they meant to consult died on the - very day they entered Paris. It was seven years before Mr. Ilam got - himself cured; but in the end he was cured almost completely. The boy was - then aged ten years. What possible chance was there of a discovery of the - fraud? Even had Mr. Ilam ever seen his child clearly, what resemblance is - there between an infant of three and a boy of ten? None; none whatever. - Mrs. Ilam had triumphed: she had deposed the authentic heir of Mr. Ilam - and had put her own son on the throne in his stead.” - </p> - <p> - “And the other boy?” Carpentaria queried. - </p> - <p> - Jetsam paused, his eyes bent downwards. - </p> - <p> - “Do you know the Breton peasantry?” he demanded suddenly, at length. - </p> - <p> - “Not in the least,” said Carpentaria. - </p> - <p> - “Ah, well; that doesn’t matter! When you hear the sequel of the story you - will be able to imagine what a Breton peasant is capable of. He is the - equal of the Norman peasant, and no French novelist has ever yet dared to - write down the actual! truth about the Norman peasant. I told you that - Mrs. Ilam and the old Frenchman had a chat on Exeter platform. She told - him that she was giving him a new charge, preferring to take the other boy - herself. It was arranged that the new charge should accompany the Breton - to France, and live with him as his foster-child. Terms were fixed up, no - doubt to the entire satisfaction of the peasant. Then Mrs. Ilam ventured - to play her great card. She informed the Frenchman that his new charge was - a very delicate plant, frequently ill, and not apparently destined to long - life. This, by the way, was grossly untrue. ‘Of course, if he were to - die,’ she said in effect to the peasant, ‘you would lose the income which - I shall pay to you for looking after the child, and to compensate you for - that loss I will promise to give you, if he dies, the sum of five hundred - pounds.’ I expect she managed to put a peculiar and sinister emphasis on - these words. Anyhow, the Frenchman understood. That was just the kind of - thing that you might rely on a Breton peasant to comprehend without too - much explanation. Five hundred pounds is five hundred pounds; it is over - twelve thousand francs, and twelve thousand francs to a Breton peasant is - worth anything—it is worth eternal torture.” - </p> - <p> - “And so, in due course, Mrs. Ilam received news of her stepson’s death?” - </p> - <p> - “In due course she received news of her stepson’s death,” said Jetsam. “It - took a considerable time—six years, in fact—‘but it was - accompanied by legal proof, and when she received it Mrs. Ilam must have - been as happy as the day is long, especially as her own boy was growing up - strong and well, and Mr. Ilam had taken quite a fancy to him. So all trace - of the crime—would you call it a crime, or only a pleasing - manifestation of a mother’s love?—all trace of the crime was lost, - for the French peasant died; the English wife of the French peasant had - expired a long time before.” - </p> - <p> - And Jetsam paused again. - </p> - <p> - “I am accepting all that you say as gospel,” said Carpentaria. “Because - somehow it impresses me vividly as being true.” Here he looked at Josephus - Ilam, who avoided his glance. “But how does this matter concern yourself, - and in what way did you come upon the traces of the crime?” - </p> - <p> - “I’ll tell you,” Jetsam recommenced. “It was like this. The boy was not - dead.” - </p> - <p> - “Not dead?” - </p> - <p> - “No. He had run away. He had had a pretty hard time before the death of - the peasant’s wife. Afterwards, his existence was a trifle more exciting - than he could bear. He was starved and he was beaten. But that was not - all. On board fishing boats he was forced to accept dangers and risks of - such a nature that the continuance of his life was nothing less than a - daily miracle. So he ran away. He was aged nine, and he had a perfect - knowledge of two languages as his stock-in-trade.” - </p> - <p> - “But the legal proof of his death?” - </p> - <p> - “Nothing simpler. The foster-father was a great friend of the village - schoolmaster, and the schoolmaster, as you may know, is always the - secretary of the mayor in a French village. He it is who makes out all - certificates, and transacts every bit of the routine business of - population-recording. The foster-father suggested to the schoolmaster that - in exchange for a certificate of the boy’s death, the schoolmaster should - receive a note of the Bank of France for a thousand francs. This was more - than half a year’s salary to the schoolmaster, and the result was that the - foster-father got the certificate. No fear of discovery! None knew of the - issue of the certificate except these two men. And the lady for whose - benefit the certificate was issued would be extremely unlikely to visit a - remote French fishing village.” - </p> - <p> - “And what occurred to the boy?” - </p> - <p> - “The principal thing that occurred to the boy is that he is now sitting - here and telling you his story,” said Jetsam, calmly. - </p> - <p> - “I guessed it,” said Carpentaria, with equal calmness, “as soon as you - mentioned that the boy was not dead.” - </p> - <p> - Josephus Ilam maintained a stony silence. - </p> - <p> - “I knocked about for nine or ten years,” continued Jetsam, “both in - England and France, chiefly fishing. Then I suddenly became respectable. I - got a place in a house-agency in Cannes, chiefly on the strength of my - knowledge of French and English. Of course, that only lasted during the - winter season. But my employer had a similar agency in Ostend during the - summer. It was in Ostend that I became gay. I joined a theatrical troupe. - I travelled a great deal. I did everything except make money. And after - ten years of that I settled down again as a house-agency clerk. I really - was rather good at that, much better than as a music-hall performer with - revolvers, for instance. And in various ‘pleasure cities’ of Europe I - acted as a clerk for over twenty years. Think of it—twenty years! - And me growing older and narrower and more gloomy every year in the - service of ‘pleasure.’ I never saved any money to speak of, even though I - remained single, perhaps because I remained single. And then one day, - finding myself at St. Malo, I thought I would go and have a look at that - fishing village which I had fled from over thirty years before. My - delightful foster-father was, of course, dead; so was the schoolmaster; - but one or two people remembered me, and among them was an old woman who - had been a charming young girl when I left. It appeared that my old - foster-father had fallen deeply in love with her in a senile way, and at - her parents’ instigation she had married him for his money. He had - confided to her, once when he thought he was dying, the secret of the - substitution on Exeter platform. And now she told me. She had always liked - me. You should have heard her pronounce ‘Exeter.’ It was the funniest - thing.” - </p> - <p> - Mr. Jetsam laughed hardly. - </p> - <p> - “So that was how you got on the track?” said Carpentaria. - </p> - <p> - “Yes. I then pursued my inquiries in Torquay, and I found my old nurse. - She told me that the real child of Mr. Ilam had a large crimson birthmark - on the calf of his left leg. I had that mark. She also told me that there - existed a photograph—one of the old daguerreotypes—of me as a - child in the arms of my step-mother, my father standing close by, and that - the mark on my leg was most clearly visible on this photograph. And that - was the only real solid piece of information that I obtained, except that - the photograph used to be kept in an old lacquered box. I had an instinct - that the photograph had been preserved. And it was preserved—until - to-night! I relied on the photograph. I could dimly recollect Torquay and - Exeter platforms, but of what use would my assertions be without some - proof, some tangible proof? When I thought of my wasted and spoiled and - miserable life—and of what it might have been had I not been hated - by a woman, I was filled with hatred and with—with such sorrow as - you can’t understand.” - </p> - <p> - A sob escaped from Mr. Jetsam, and Carpentaria got up and took his hand. - </p> - <p> - “It is not too late for justice,” said Carpentaria. - </p> - <p> - “That woman has always hated me,” Jetsam murmured. “And even to-night her - hatred still burned so fiercely that she tried to kill me. Even if she - could speak, would she admit the truth? And she cannot speak.” - </p> - <p> - “I think I can cause her to communicate with us,” said Carpentaria. “You - will see in a moment.” - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0030" id="link2HCH0030"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER XXX—The Words of Mrs. Ilam - </h2> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">C</span>arpentaria bent - over the old woman, as if to search ‘her eyes and find some kindness - there. - </p> - <p> - And it seemed to him, indeed, that the character of her gaze had somewhat - changed, though those brilliant orbs, famous in Torquay fifty years ago - for their splendour, showed no trace of humidity. - </p> - <p> - Carpentaria himself was moved. It would have been impossible for anyone, - least of all an artist of romantic instincts such as he, to listen to - Jetsam’s recital without emotion. And now, when the narrative was - finished, Jetsam sat silent and preoccupied, the figure of grief and of - failure. One felt, in observing him, the immense tragedy of his life—a - life which would not have been a tragedy, but merely a little slice of the - commonplace, had he not by chance learned the sinister secret of his - origin. One understood how the discovery of that secret had completely - changed his view of existence, how it had filled him with ideas of frantic - hope, frantic revenge, and frantic regret at the long drab irrecoverable - years which the past had swallowed up. One penetrated, as it were, into - his brain, and watched how he was continually contrasting what his career - actually had been with what it might have been—with what it would - have been but for the ruthless action of the woman on the bed. - </p> - <p> - And then there was the burly, smitten figure of Josephus Ilam, too, - equally pathetic in its way. For love of this strong, heavy man, who once - had been a little boy in a sailor suit standing on Exeter platform, the - woman on the bed had committed a crime which was certainly worse than - murder. She had made one life and she had marred another. And now she - herself was stricken, withered, about to appear before the ultimate - tribunal. It was incontrovertible that, if she had sinned, she had sinned - magnificently, in the grand manner. - </p> - <p> - Carpentaria glanced at the two men, and then back again at the aged - mother. - </p> - <p> - “I understand, Mrs. Ilam,” he began in a voice strangely soft and - persuasive, “that you can indicate ‘yes’ or ‘no’ by a slight movement. - Miss Dartmouth told me the other day. Is this so? I entreat you to answer - me.” - </p> - <p> - With a sudden jerk Josephus Ilam rose from his chair and rushed to the - bedside. - </p> - <p> - “Answer him, mother.” - </p> - <p> - Mother and son exchanged a long gaze, and then Mrs. Ilam’s eyelids - blinked. It was the affirmative sign. - </p> - <p> - “Thank you,” said Carpentaria simply. “Now it seems to me, if you are not - too tired, that we can quite easily carry on a conversation upon this - basis. It will be slow, but it will be none the less sure. By successively - choosing letters out of the alphabet you can make up words, and so form - sentences. You can choose the letters thus: I will run through the - alphabet, and when I come to the letter you want, you will blink. Do you - comprehend my scheme?” - </p> - <p> - The eyes blinked. - </p> - <p> - “And are you willing to try it?” - </p> - <p> - There was a considerable pause, but in the end the eyes blinked. - </p> - <p> - “Very good,” said Carpentaria. “Now, quite probably you will want to begin - with the letter ‘I,’ eh?” - </p> - <p> - The eyes blinked. - </p> - <p> - “Excellent! Your first word is ‘I.’ Let us go to the next word. A, B, C, D————” - </p> - <p> - At “D” the eyes blinked again. - </p> - <p> - With infinite patience, Carpentaria continued to help Mrs. Ilam to express - herself, and though that mouth was incapable of speech and those hands - would never write again, the woman transmitted her first thought to the - outer world, and it went thus: - </p> - <p> - “<i>I do not regret</i>.” - </p> - <p> - There was something terrible, something majestic, in that unrepentant - enunciation. It illustrated the remorseless character of the aged - creature, whose spirit nothing apparently could conquer. Josephus Ilam - moved away from the bed and hovered uncertainly between the dressing-table - and the window. Jetsam got up from his chair and, taking Ilam’s place, - examined the features of the woman who had ruined his life and cheated him - out of all that was his. And even Jetsam could not forbear an admiring - exclamation. - </p> - <p> - “You are tremendous,” he murmured. “I could almost like you.” - </p> - <p> - Carpentaria waved him aside. - </p> - <p> - “Has Mr. Jetsam told us the truth, dear madam?” he interrogated her. - </p> - <p> - And the eyes blinked. It was as though they blinked joyously, defiantly. - </p> - <p> - “Do you agree that restitution should be made, so far as restitution is - possible?” Carpentaria asked. - </p> - <p> - There was no movement of the eyelids. - </p> - <p> - “You object to restitution, even now?” - </p> - <p> - Still there was no movement of the eyelids. But Josephus Ilam’s legs could - be heard shuffling on the floor. - </p> - <p> - “You wish to speak, then? A, B, C, D—————” - </p> - <p> - Carpentaria went on to “W” before Mrs. Ilam signified that the sentence - was to commence. The words ran: - </p> - <p> - “Why named Jetsam?” - </p> - <p> - The woman’s mind was evidently exploring, in a sort of indifferent - curiosity, the side-issues, the minor scenes, of the terrific drama which - she had started and of which she now witnessed the climax. - </p> - <p> - She appeared to have no sense at all of her own responsibility. - </p> - <p> - “It was a name I gave myself when I first found out who I was,” said - Jetsam bitterly. “Something chucked overboard and forgotten, you see.” - </p> - <p> - A slight smile seemed to illuminate the woman’s face. - </p> - <p> - “Do you agree that restitution should be made?” Carpentaria repeated - patiently. - </p> - <p> - The eyes of the paralytic made no sign until Carpentaria began again to go - through the alphabet. Then, letter by letter, the message came: - </p> - <p> - “If my son wishes.” - </p> - <p> - “Mother,” Ilam murmured, averting his face from the bed, “of course I - wish. I nearly killed him myself the other day. You thought I had been - dreaming—till you saw him yourself, and, and——” - </p> - <p> - He stopped; he broke down. - </p> - <p> - And then Mrs. Ilam proceeded, with Carpentaria’s help: - </p> - <p> - “My son must tell me about that.” - </p> - <p> - “No,” Jetsam put in authoritatively; “I will tell you about that. Ilam—or - rather I should say Kilmarnock—is in no condition to make speeches. - When I first came to this place to begin my struggle for what was mine, I - really had not got much of a plan in my head. It was so difficult to make - a start. It may seem to you quite a simple thing”—he turned away - from Mrs. Ilam and addressed Carpentaria—“to go up to a person and - say to him, ‘Look here, you are standing in my shoes, and your mother has - committed an act foully criminal!’ But in practice it isn’t quite as easy - as it seems. You want a gigantic nerve to make a statement like that as if - you meant it—although you do mean it. It sounds rather wild, you - see. And then I met my supplanter rather before I was ready for him. The - truth is that he came into that little place where I was hiding in just - the same way as you came in, Mr. Carpentaria. He caught me like you did—a - trespasser; and, of course, I was at a disadvantage. He spoke to me very - roughly, and then angered me——” - </p> - <p> - “How could I know who you were?” demanded Ilam. - </p> - <p> - “Exactly. You couldn’t know. But the effect on me was the same. Put - yourself in my place, Mr. Kilmarnock. I had been cheated out of my whole - career. You were in unlawful possession of it; and on the top of that you - came along, and behaved to me as if I were a dog. Well”—here Jetsam - addressed his stepmother again—“I told him who I was, and pretty - quick too, and I could see from his manner that he knew the history of our - origin, and the substitution on Exeter platform.” - </p> - <p> - “I knew,” Ilam admitted with a certain sadness. “My mother had once told - me—I came across traces of a mystery, and she told me.” - </p> - <p> - “And you did nothing?” queried Jetsam. “It was not on your conscience?” - </p> - <p> - “You must recollect that we had the legal proof of your death. What was - there to be done? I could not have made restitution to the dead, even had - my mother permitted.” - </p> - <p> - “But when I told you who I was,” rejoined Mr. Jetsam, “unless I am much - mistaken, you believed what I said.” - </p> - <p> - “I did,” Ilam agreed. “Moreover, you bear a most distinct likeness to a - portrait of my stepfather, painted when he was about your age.” - </p> - <p> - “You believed me, and your answer was to try to kill me?” Jetsam sneered. - </p> - <p> - The two men, the son and the stepson, were now opposite to one another, on - either side of the bed, while Carpentaria, intently listening, stood at - the foot. - </p> - <p> - “I did not try to kill you,” answered Ilam. - </p> - <p> - “You pretty nearly succeeded,” said Jetsam. - </p> - <p> - “I thought I had killed you,” Ilam said gravely. “But I had no intention - of doing so. You said something very scathing about my mother——” - </p> - <p> - “I said nothing that was not justified.” - </p> - <p> - “You insulted my mother. I lost my temper. I hated you. We always hate - those whom we have wronged. I struck you. You fell, and you must have - knocked your head against the pile of planks lying in the enclosure; you - never moved. I examined you. I could have sworn you were dead—I was - afraid—I thought of inquests. I knew the whole truth would come out. - I had not meant to kill. So I took you and buried you temporarily, while I - considered what I should do afterwards. I went back to the house and told - my mother. She would not believe me. She thought I had been dreaming. I do - frequently have bad nightmares. And certain things that occurred - afterwards made even me suspect that after all I had been dreaming. It was - not until you came again that I——” - </p> - <p> - “And even your mother believed then, eh?” said Jetsam. “Your mother - believed too suddenly. She saw me and she believed! And the result was - paralysis! I ought to have broken it to her more gently. That would have - been perhaps better for all of us—perhaps better!” - </p> - <p> - There was a pause. And Jetsam added, as if communing with himself: - </p> - <p> - “How she hated me! How she hates me still! even to-night, if some one had - not interfered in time——” - </p> - <p> - He could not get away from the amazing tenacity of Mrs. Ilam’s purpose. - </p> - <p> - “You wish to speak?” said Carpentaria, who had been observing the woman’s - eyes; the eyes were blinking nervously. - </p> - <p> - He began the alphabet again, and her message ran thus: - </p> - <p> - “I do not hate him; but I love my son. To-night I thought Josephus was in - danger. That was why—revolver. I always acted for my son. I love - him!” - </p> - <p> - These sentiments, so unmistakably clear in their significance, took some - time to transmit. Mrs. Ilam appeared to be exhausted. But after a few - moments she continued: - </p> - <p> - “Where is Rosie? She helped him. I want to know why.” - </p> - <p> - The men exchanged glances. - </p> - <p> - “Why did she help you?” Carpentaria asked of Jetsam. - </p> - <p> - “Better ask her!” replied Jetsam curtly. - </p> - <p> - Carpentaria did not hesitate an instant. He went to the door, opened it, - and called Rosie, and his voice resounded through the well of the - staircase and the empty rooms. And then Rosie came from; downstairs, like - an apparition. She had been crying. - </p> - <p> - “Mrs. Ilam wants you to explain why you have been helping Mr. Jetsam,” - said Carpentaria, as she entered. - </p> - <p> - “Helping him in what?” Rosie parleyed timidly. - </p> - <p> - “In his plans——” - </p> - <p> - “Against me,” Ilam added. - </p> - <p> - “I only helped him in his plans for justice,” said Rosie. - </p> - <p> - “But why?” - </p> - <p> - “Because I was sorry for him. Because there is something in his tone—because—oh! - if he has told you all, are you not all sorry for him? When I think of - what his life has been——” - </p> - <p> - She stopped and burst into tears. - </p> - <p> - “But my hair is grey,” murmured Jetsam. “How can you possibly be - interested in me? What does it matter what happens to me? My life is - over.” - </p> - <p> - “No it isn’t!” Rosie protested. “It hasn’t yet begun. It is just - beginning. Mrs. Ilam and Cousin Ilam will be just to you. You will not - bear them ill-will. The wrong is too old for that. You will forget it. You - will forget all the past. Your hair may be grey, but I’m sure your heart - isn’t. And your voice can influence even the Soudanese. The way that man - obeyed you! The way he got the better of his brother just to please you! - It seems strange, but I can understand it, because I have——” - </p> - <p> - Again she stopped. - </p> - <p> - Jetsam went up to her and took her hand, which she seemed willingly to - release to him. And he held it. - </p> - <p> - “How good you are!” he said steadily. “I am almost ashamed to have roused - your sympathy so much.” - </p> - <p> - The other two men watched. - </p> - <p> - “I don’t know what Pauline will say,” Rosie stammered. - </p> - <p> - Suddenly there was the sound of music. The band, which everybody in the - room had forgotten, had begun to play, apparently of its own accord. And - the melody it had chosen was, “See the Conquering Hero Comes.” - </p> - <p> - Carpentaria rushed to the window. And then, as he drew the curtains, all - noticed for the first time that the dawn had begun. - </p> - <p> - “What are you making that noise for?” he demanded angrily from the - balcony. The music ceased abruptly. - </p> - <p> - “We’re saluting the sun, sir,” came the reply. “It’s morning. We imagined - that possibly you had lost sight of the fact of our existence.” - </p> - <p> - “I had,” said Carpentaria. “However, you can go!” - </p> - <p> - “Mr. Carpentaria,” cried another voice—a woman’s, firm and - imperious. “Open the front door immediately and let me in. I insist.” - </p> - <p> - It was Pauline. - </p> - <p> - “Certainly, Miss Dartmouth,” said Carpentaria obediently. “Kindly cut the - rope which you will see tied to the handle. I will tell the Soudanese to - admit you.” - </p> - <p> - And he did so. - </p> - <p> - And presently footsteps were heard on the stairs, and both Pauline and - Juliette came in. - </p> - <p> - “Rosie!” exclaimed Pauline. The sisters were clasped in each other’s arms. - </p> - <p> - “Forgive me, dearest!” Rosie entreated; and they kissed. - </p> - <p> - “But what have you——?” Pauline began, naturally mystified to - the utmost. - </p> - <p> - “Ah, Miss Dartmouth,” said Carpentaria, “I fear you must wait for - enlightenment until you can hear the whole story.” - </p> - <p> - “But the servants?” cried Pauline. - </p> - <p> - “I sent them to sleep in the staff-dormitories. I said you wished it,” - answered Rosie, smiling. - </p> - <p> - “But why should I wish it?” - </p> - <p> - “I don’t know,” said Rosie. “When they asked me that, I told them I didn’t - know,” she smiled again faintly. “But Mr. Jetsam will explain it all to - you. I—I tried to help him, and I have succeeded—I think.” - </p> - <p> - During this conversation, Juliette, with that direct candour which - frequently distinguishes women in a crisis, had gone straight to Josephus - Ilam and seized his hand. She was assuring herself that he was not hurt, - when Mrs. Ilam once more gave a sign with her eyelids. Carpentaria resumed - his position as helper. - </p> - <p> - “It was because I loved him,” Carpentaria spelt out for her, “that I tried - to kill you—twice.” - </p> - <p> - Carpentaria fell back. Then he regained his self-command and, pushing his - fingers through his red-gold hair, he asked monosyllabically, “Why?” - </p> - <p> - And then he interpreted for her the answer to his own question. - </p> - <p> - “You worried Josephus. He wanted to get rid of you.” - </p> - <p> - Josephus disengaged his hands from those of Juliette. - </p> - <p> - “Mother!” he moaned sadly, and then added, “She is mad!” - </p> - <p> - But through Carpentaria Mrs. Ilam said: - </p> - <p> - “I am not mad. But my love has always been too strong.” - </p> - <p> - “Did you know of this, Ilam?” Carpentaria asked his partner solemnly. - </p> - <p> - “Of course I did not,” was the answer—“not till it was too late.” - </p> - <p> - “Then, why did you warn me up in the wheel?” - </p> - <p> - “Because I suspected. I suspected my poor mother was beginning to hate - you, and I feared that—— I can’t say any more.” - </p> - <p> - Carpentaria, powerfully moved, walked out of the room, and it was Pauline - who followed him. - </p> - <p> - Mrs. Ilam’s eyes were now shut. - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0031" id="link2HCH0031"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER XXXI—Unison - </h2> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">T</span>hat summer was - astoundingly fine and warm, not to say tropical. But since it remains - clearly in the memory of all, especially of the London water-companies, as - a unique caprice on the part of the English climate, there is no need to - go into details of its beauty. Towards the end of September the weather - was exceedingly lovely. And of course the City prospered accordingly. It - had been thought that the record “gates” during the great fêtes of August - would make the September returns look meagre and feeble. Such, however, - was not the case. In the first week of September over a million people - paid fifty thousand pounds at the turnstiles to enjoy the charms of the - City. And a water-famine in most other parts of London did not impair - their pleasure, for Ilam and Carpentaria had sunk their own Artesian - wells, and they had sunk them deep enough. Consequently, the glorious - lawns of the Oriental Gardens and the turf of the cricket field kept a - vivid green through that solitary summer. - </p> - <p> - The consumption of multi-coloured liquids in the cafés dotted about the - gardens exceeded the most sanguine estimates. It was stated that during - one of Carpentaria’s concerts twelve thousand pints of Pilsen beer (the - genuine article, imported daily in casks from the Erste Pilsen - Actien-Brauerei, Pilsen) were consumed within sight of the bandstand. - </p> - <p> - “This,” said Carpentaria emphatically, “is success. No - composer-conductor,” he added, “has ever before been able to say that he - was listened to by an audience that put away Pilsen beer at the rate of a - hundred pints a minute.” - </p> - <p> - And he was right. Success was written large all over the place. Success - shone on the faces of the entire staff, and it shone particularly on the - face of Carpentaria, though he tried to pretend that it was nothing to - him. It was, naturally, a great deal to him. He was the lion of London, - and he knew it. All his previous triumphs were nothing in comparison with - this triumph, which was the triumph of his ideas as well as a personal - triumph. - </p> - <p> - Fifty amusement-mongers in London were asking themselves why they had not - thought of building a City of Pleasure—and they were not getting - satisfactory replies to the conundrum! - </p> - <p> - One evening, towards the middle of September, after a more than usually - effective concert, Carpentaria laid down his baton on the plush cushion - provided for its repose, and bowed and bowed and bowed again, in response - to the enthusiastic plaudits, but with a somewhat pre-occupied mien. - </p> - <p> - “What’s up with the old man?” a French-horn player whispered to his mate. - </p> - <p> - “Dashed if I know!” replied the second French-horn-player. “Unless he’s in - love.” - </p> - <p> - “Well, he is,” said the first. “Everybody knows that.” - </p> - <p> - They called him the old man, no doubt, because his age was barely forty - and because he looked younger than any of them. - </p> - <p> - Carpentaria descended from his throne, smiling absently at the applause of - his band as he made his way through them to the steps leading down from - the bandstand to the level of the gardens. He had only to move a few paces - in order to be lost in the surging crowd. But before he could do this, he - heard a voice: - </p> - <p> - “Mr. Carpentaria.” - </p> - <p> - He turned sharply. It was a woman’s voice. It was more—it was - Pauline’s voice. Had she come to meet him? Impossible! That would have - been too much happiness. However, he determined to ascertain, and he - ascertained in his usual direct manner. - </p> - <p> - “Did you come specially to meet me?” he demanded. - </p> - <p> - And she replied, in a low voice: - </p> - <p> - “Yes.” - </p> - <p> - “That was extremely kind of you,” he said, trembling with joy. - </p> - <p> - “No,” she protested. “I had something to tell you—and———” - She hesitated, and then stopped. - </p> - <p> - “Suppose we take a little stroll,” he suggested. - </p> - <p> - And she said, quite naturally: - </p> - <p> - “I should love to.” - </p> - <p> - “This woman is simply the divinest creature,” he told himself. “She is not - like other women. She would like to go for a stroll with me, and she does - not pretend the contrary. I am a great man, but I have done nothing, - absolutely nothing, to deserve her goodness.” - </p> - <p> - They crossed the gardens, with difficulty, in the direction of the - terrace. And around were the light and laughter of the City—the - brilliant illuminated cafés and the sombre trees for a background, and - thousands of pretty toilettes and thousands of men gazing at the pretty - toilettes, so attractive in the gloom under the starry sky. A burst of - minor music would come now and then from some little café-orchestra, or - the sound of the popping of guns from a distant shooting-gallery or the - roar of a lion, forced unwillingly to go through its performance in the - menagerie. Then, every woman in the gardens gave a little start or a - little shriek at the noise of the great cannon which signalled the - commencement of the fireworks, and the rush to the terrace, where the best - view was to be obtained, became a stampede. - </p> - <p> - “Do you mean to go on to the terrace?” asked Pauline. - </p> - <p> - “No, madam,” said Carpentaria, teasingly. “I mean to go on to the - foreshore of the river. The tide is low—we shall be alone—we - shall see both the crowd and the fireworks; and we shall be secure from - interruption.” - </p> - <p> - With one of his pass-keys he unlocked a gate giving access to a tunnel - leading down to the river. They passed through, and he locked the gate - again. They arrived at the edge of the stream just as the first cluster of - rockets was expanding itself in the firmament. The scene was impressive, - and the roaring cheers of the serried crowd behind and above them did not - detract from its impressiveness. - </p> - <p> - “So you have something to tell me?” he remarked, tapping his foot idly - against a stone. “I also have something to tell you.” - </p> - <p> - “Really?” she answered. - </p> - <p> - He examined her face and figure. She was dressed in mourning, for Mrs. - Ilam had died within two days of the events set down in the previous - chapter, and Carpentaria thought that black had never suited any woman so - well as it suited Pauline.... There was something about her face... In - short... Well, those who have been through what Carpentaria was going - through will readily understand. - </p> - <p> - “And what are you going to tell me?” he queried. - </p> - <p> - “It’s a message from Cousin Ilam,” said Pauline. “You haven’t seen him - to-day, have you?” - </p> - <p> - “No. I’ve been very much alone to-day. Juliette’s been away all day—I - suppose preparing for the wedding—there’s only a few days left now.” - </p> - <p> - “Well,” said Pauline, “Cousin Ilam told me to tell you they aren’t going - to be married next week.” - </p> - <p> - “What!” cried Carpentaria, “after all? Why not?” - </p> - <p> - “Because they were married this morning. They’re already on their - honeymoon.” - </p> - <p> - “And Juliette has played this trick on me?” murmured Carpentaria. - </p> - <p> - “In any case, the marriage would have had to be very quiet,” said Pauline. - “I fancy Cousin Ilam didn’t particularly care for your notion of having a - section of your band to play at the church. Anyhow, he wanted the affair - absolutely quiet. You know how nervous and self-conscious he is.” - </p> - <p> - “Now I come to think of it,” Carpentaria said, “Juliette did kiss me this - morning rather fervently, and I wondered why.” - </p> - <p> - “You wonder no longer,” observed Pauline, smiling. “It was just a little - plot.” - </p> - <p> - “Extraordinary! Most extraordinary!” Carpentaria exclaimed. - </p> - <p> - “I don’t think it’s quite so extraordinary as all that!” said Pauline. - </p> - <p> - “You don’t know what I mean,” Carpentaria replied. “I also have a message—for - you. It is from our friend Mr. Jetsam Ilam and your sister. Have you seen - Miss Rosie since this morning?” - </p> - <p> - “No,” said Pauline; “she went with Juliette.” - </p> - <p> - “Exactly. She went with Juliette. And she has done what Juliette has done. - I was asked by Mr. Jetsam Ilam to inform you that instead of marrying your - sister next week he has married her this week. He is very sorry. He has a - perfect horror of publicity. In fact they chose the registry office.” - </p> - <p> - “What a shame!” cried Pauline. “What a shame!” - </p> - <p> - “Ah,” said Carpentaria, “you didn’t mind them deceiving me! But when it - comes to deceiving you——! It must have been a united plot on - the part of those two pairs of people to deceive us two; and, I must say, - they managed the thing pretty well. Don’t you think so?” - </p> - <p> - “I think they’ve been horrid,” said Pauline. - </p> - <p> - “And we two are quite alone, for one solid week—you in your house, - and I in mine,” said Carpentaria. - </p> - <p> - There was a pause, and then he heard a sob. - </p> - <p> - “You aren’t really crying, are you?” he demanded. - </p> - <p> - Pauline made no answer. - </p> - <p> - In crying she had lost herself. She had given herself away—she had - precipitated a crisis which, in any event, could not have been long - postponed. In a word, he tried to comfort her. You may guess how he did - it. You may guess whether she objected. You may guess if he succeeded. In - a quarter of an hour she was telling him that she had always liked him, - that, formerly, she and Rosie used to worship him—Rosie even more - than she—but that that sort of worship was nothing compared to the - feelings which she at present entertained—<i>et seq</i>. - </p> - <p> - And the fireworks and the applause of the vast crowd provided the kind of - setting that Carlos Carpentaria loved. - </p> - <h3> - THE END - </h3> - <div style="height: 6em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - - - - - - - -<pre> - - - - - -End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The City Of Pleasure, by Arnold Bennett - -*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE CITY OF PLEASURE *** - -***** This file should be named 55115-h.htm or 55115-h.zip ***** -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: - http://www.gutenberg.org/5/5/1/1/55115/ - -Produced by David Widger from page images generously -provided by the Internet Archive - - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will -be renamed. - -Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, -so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United -States without permission and without paying copyright -royalties. 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