An African Millionaire Episodes in the Life of the Illustrious Colonel Clay By Grant Allen First published in 1897 CONTENTS 1. The Episode of the Mexican Seer 2. The Episode of the Diamond Links 3. The Episode of the Old Master 4. The Episode of the Tyrolean Castle 5. The Episode of the Drawn Game 6. The Episode of the German Professor 7. The Episode of the Arrest of the Colonel 8. The Episode of the Seldon Gold-Mine 9. The Episode of the Japanned Dispatch-Box 10. The Episode of the Game of Poker 11. The Episode of the Bertillon Method 12. The Episode of the Old Bailey I THE EPISODE OF THE MEXICAN SEER My name is Seymour Wilbraham Wentworth. I am brother-in-law andsecretary to Sir Charles Vandrift, the South African millionaire andfamous financier. Many years ago, when Charlie Vandrift was a smalllawyer in Cape Town, I had the (qualified) good fortune to marry hissister. Much later, when the Vandrift estate and farm near Kimberleydeveloped by degrees into the Cloetedorp Golcondas, Limited, mybrother-in-law offered me the not unremunerative post of secretary;in which capacity I have ever since been his constant and attachedcompanion. He is not a man whom any common sharper can take in, is CharlesVandrift. Middle height, square build, firm mouth, keen eyes--thevery picture of a sharp and successful business genius. I have onlyknown one rogue impose upon Sir Charles, and that one rogue, as theCommissary of Police at Nice remarked, would doubtless have imposedupon a syndicate of Vidocq, Robert Houdin, and Cagliostro. We had run across to the Riviera for a few weeks in the season. Ourobject being strictly rest and recreation from the arduous dutiesof financial combination, we did not think it necessary to take ourwives out with us. Indeed, Lady Vandrift is absolutely wedded to thejoys of London, and does not appreciate the rural delights of theMediterranean littoral. But Sir Charles and I, though immersed inaffairs when at home, both thoroughly enjoy the complete change fromthe City to the charming vegetation and pellucid air on the terraceat Monte Carlo. We _are_ so fond of scenery. That delicious viewover the rocks of Monaco, with the Maritime Alps in the rear, andthe blue sea in front, not to mention the imposing Casino in theforeground, appeals to me as one of the most beautiful prospects inall Europe. Sir Charles has a sentimental attachment for the place. He finds it restores and freshens him, after the turmoil of London, to win a few hundreds at roulette in the course of an afternoonamong the palms and cactuses and pure breezes of Monte Carlo. Thecountry, say I, for a jaded intellect! However, we never on anyaccount actually stop in the Principality itself. Sir Charles thinksMonte Carlo is not a sound address for a financier's letters. Heprefers a comfortable hotel on the Promenade des Anglais at Nice, where he recovers health and renovates his nervous system by takingdaily excursions along the coast to the Casino. This particular season we were snugly ensconced at the Hôtel desAnglais. We had capital quarters on the first floor--salon, study, and bedrooms--and found on the spot a most agreeable cosmopolitansociety. All Nice, just then, was ringing with talk about a curiousimpostor, known to his followers as the Great Mexican Seer, andsupposed to be gifted with second sight, as well as with endlessother supernatural powers. Now, it is a peculiarity of my ablebrother-in-law's that, when he meets with a quack, he burns toexpose him; he is so keen a man of business himself that it giveshim, so to speak, a disinterested pleasure to unmask and detectimposture in others. Many ladies at the hotel, some of whom had metand conversed with the Mexican Seer, were constantly telling usstrange stories of his doings. He had disclosed to one the presentwhereabouts of a runaway husband; he had pointed out to another thenumbers that would win at roulette next evening; he had shown athird the image on a screen of the man she had for years adoredwithout his knowledge. Of course, Sir Charles didn't believe a wordof it; but his curiosity was roused; he wished to see and judge forhimself of the wonderful thought-reader. "What would be his terms, do you think, for a private séance?" heasked of Madame Picardet, the lady to whom the Seer had successfullypredicted the winning numbers. "He does not work for money, " Madame Picardet answered, "but forthe good of humanity. I'm sure he would gladly come and exhibit fornothing his miraculous faculties. " "Nonsense!" Sir Charles answered. "The man must live. I'd pay himfive guineas, though, to see him alone. What hotel is he stopping at?" "The Cosmopolitan, I think, " the lady answered. "Oh no; I remembernow, the Westminster. " Sir Charles turned to me quietly. "Look here, Seymour, " hewhispered. "Go round to this fellow's place immediately afterdinner, and offer him five pounds to give a private séance at oncein my rooms, without mentioning who I am to him; keep the name quitequiet. Bring him back with you, too, and come straight upstairswith him, so that there may be no collusion. We'll see just how muchthe fellow can tell us. " I went as directed. I found the Seer a very remarkable andinteresting person. He stood about Sir Charles's own height, but wasslimmer and straighter, with an aquiline nose, strangely piercingeyes, very large black pupils, and a finely-chiselled close-shavenface, like the bust of Antinous in our hall in Mayfair. What gave himhis most characteristic touch, however, was his odd head of hair, curly and wavy like Paderewski's, standing out in a halo round hishigh white forehead and his delicate profile. I could see at aglance why he succeeded so well in impressing women; he had thelook of a poet, a singer, a prophet. "I have come round, " I said, "to ask whether you will consent togive a séance at once in a friend's rooms; and my principal wishesme to add that he is prepared to pay five pounds as the price of theentertainment. " Señor Antonio Herrera--that was what he called himself--bowed tome with impressive Spanish politeness. His dusky olive cheeks werewrinkled with a smile of gentle contempt as he answered gravely-- "I do not sell my gifts; I bestow them freely. If your friend--youranonymous friend--desires to behold the cosmic wonders that arewrought through my hands, I am glad to show them to him. Fortunately, as often happens when it is necessary to convinceand confound a sceptic (for that your friend is a sceptic I feelinstinctively), I chance to have no engagements at all thisevening. " He ran his hand through his fine, long hair reflectively. "Yes, I go, " he continued, as if addressing some unknown presencethat hovered about the ceiling; "I go; come with me!" Then he put onhis broad sombrero, with its crimson ribbon, wrapped a cloak roundhis shoulders, lighted a cigarette, and strode forth by my sidetowards the Hôtel des Anglais. He talked little by the way, and that little in curt sentences. Heseemed buried in deep thought; indeed, when we reached the door andI turned in, he walked a step or two farther on, as if not noticingto what place I had brought him. Then he drew himself up short, andgazed around him for a moment. "Ha, the Anglais, " he said--and I maymention in passing that his English, in spite of a slight southernaccent, was idiomatic and excellent. "It is here, then; it is here!"He was addressing once more the unseen presence. I smiled to think that these childish devices were intended todeceive Sir Charles Vandrift. Not quite the sort of man (as the Cityof London knows) to be taken in by hocus-pocus. And all this, I saw, was the cheapest and most commonplace conjurer's patter. We went upstairs to our rooms. Charles had gathered together afew friends to watch the performance. The Seer entered, wrapt inthought. He was in evening dress, but a red sash round his waistgave a touch of picturesqueness and a dash of colour. He paused fora moment in the middle of the salon, without letting his eyes reston anybody or anything. Then he walked straight up to Charles, andheld out his dark hand. "Good-evening, " he said. "You are the host. My soul's sight tellsme so. " "Good shot, " Sir Charles answered. "These fellows have to bequick-witted, you know, Mrs. Mackenzie, or they'd never get onat it. " The Seer gazed about him, and smiled blankly at a person or twowhose faces he seemed to recognise from a previous existence. ThenCharles began to ask him a few simple questions, not about himself, but about me, just to test him. He answered most of them withsurprising correctness. "His name? His name begins with an S Ithink:--You call him Seymour. " He paused long between each clause, asif the facts were revealed to him slowly. "Seymour--Wilbraham--Earlof Strafford. No, not Earl of Strafford! Seymour WilbrahamWentworth. There seems to be some connection in somebody's mind nowpresent between Wentworth and Strafford. I am not English. I do notknow what it means. But they are somehow the same name, Wentworthand Strafford. " He gazed around, apparently for confirmation. A lady came to hisrescue. "Wentworth was the surname of the great Earl of Strafford, " shemurmured gently; "and I was wondering, as you spoke, whetherMr. Wentworth might possibly be descended from him. " "He is, " the Seer replied instantly, with a flash of those darkeyes. And I thought this curious; for though my father alwaysmaintained the reality of the relationship, there was one linkwanting to complete the pedigree. He could not make sure thatthe Hon. Thomas Wilbraham Wentworth was the father of JonathanWentworth, the Bristol horse-dealer, from whom we are descended. "Where was I born?" Sir Charles interrupted, coming suddenly to hisown case. The Seer clapped his two hands to his forehead and held it betweenthem, as if to prevent it from bursting. "Africa, " he said slowly, as the facts narrowed down, so to speak. "South Africa; Cape of GoodHope; Jansenville; De Witt Street. 1840. " "By Jove, he's correct, " Sir Charles muttered. "He seems really todo it. Still, he may have found me out. He may have known where hewas coming. " "I never gave a hint, " I answered; "till he reached the door, hedidn't even know to what hotel I was piloting him. " The Seer stroked his chin softly. His eye appeared to me to have afurtive gleam in it. "Would you like me to tell you the number ofa bank-note inclosed in an envelope?" he asked casually. "Go out of the room, " Sir Charles said, "while I pass it round thecompany. " Señor Herrera disappeared. Sir Charles passed it round cautiously, holding it all the time in his own hand, but letting his guests seethe number. Then he placed it in an envelope and gummed it downfirmly. The Seer returned. His keen eyes swept the company with acomprehensive glance. He shook his shaggy mane. Then he tookthe envelope in his hands and gazed at it fixedly. "AF, 73549, "he answered, in a slow tone. "A Bank of England note for fiftypounds--exchanged at the Casino for gold won yesterday atMonte Carlo. " "I see how he did that, " Sir Charles said triumphantly. "He musthave changed it there himself; and then I changed it back again. In point of fact, I remember seeing a fellow with long hair loafingabout. Still, it's capital conjuring. " "He can see through matter, " one of the ladies interposed. It wasMadame Picardet. "He can see through a box. " She drew a little goldvinaigrette, such as our grandmothers used, from her dress-pocket. "What is in this?" she inquired, holding it up to him. Señor Herrera gazed through it. "Three gold coins, " he replied, knitting his brows with the effort of seeing into the box: "one, an American five dollars; one, a French ten-franc piece; one, twenty marks, German, of the old Emperor William. " She opened the box and passed it round. Sir Charles smiled a quietsmile. "Confederacy!" he muttered, half to himself. "Confederacy!" The Seer turned to him with a sullen air. "You want a better sign?"he said, in a very impressive voice. "A sign that will convince you!Very well: you have a letter in your left waistcoat pocket--acrumpled-up letter. Do you wish me to read it out? I will, if youdesire it. " It may seem to those who know Sir Charles incredible, but, I ambound to admit, my brother-in-law coloured. What that lettercontained I cannot say; he only answered, very testily andevasively, "No, thank you; I won't trouble you. The exhibition youhave already given us of your skill in this kind more than amplysuffices. " And his fingers strayed nervously to his waistcoatpocket, as if he was half afraid, even then, Señor Herrera wouldread it. I fancied, too, he glanced somewhat anxiously towards MadamePicardet. The Seer bowed courteously. "Your will, señor, is law, " he said. "Imake it a principle, though I can see through all things, invariablyto respect the secrecies and sanctities. If it were not so, I mightdissolve society. For which of us is there who could bear the wholetruth being told about him?" He gazed around the room. An unpleasantthrill supervened. Most of us felt this uncanny Spanish Americanknew really too much. And some of us were engaged in financialoperations. "For example, " the Seer continued blandly, "I happened a few weeksago to travel down here from Paris by train with a very intelligentman, a company promoter. He had in his bag some documents--someconfidential documents:" he glanced at Sir Charles. "You know thekind of thing, my dear sir: reports from experts--from miningengineers. You may have seen some such; marked _strictly private_. " "They form an element in high finance, " Sir Charles admitted coldly. "Pre-cisely, " the Seer murmured, his accent for a moment lessSpanish than before. "And, as they were marked _strictly private_, I respect, of course, the seal of confidence. That's all I wish tosay. I hold it a duty, being intrusted with such powers, not to usethem in a manner which may annoy or incommode my fellow-creatures. " "Your feeling does you honour, " Sir Charles answered, with someacerbity. Then he whispered in my ear: "Confounded clever scoundrel, Sey; rather wish we hadn't brought him here. " Señor Herrera seemed intuitively to divine this wish, for heinterposed, in a lighter and gayer tone-- "I will now show you a different and more interesting embodimentof occult power, for which we shall need a somewhat subduedarrangement of surrounding lights. Would you mind, señor host--forI have purposely abstained from reading your name on the brain ofany one present--would you mind my turning down this lamp just alittle? . . . So! That will do. Now, this one; and this one. Exactly!that's right. " He poured a few grains of powder out of a packet intoa saucer. "Next, a match, if you please. Thank you!" It burnt with astrange green light. He drew from his pocket a card, and produced alittle ink-bottle. "Have you a pen?" he asked. I instantly brought one. He handed it to Sir Charles. "Oblige me, "he said, "by writing your name there. " And he indicated a place inthe centre of the card, which had an embossed edge, with a smallmiddle square of a different colour. Sir Charles has a natural disinclination to signing his name withoutknowing why. "What do you want with it?" he asked. (A millionaire'ssignature has so many uses. ) "I want you to put the card in an envelope, " the Seer replied, "andthen to burn it. After that, I shall show you your own name writtenin letters of blood on my arm, in your own handwriting. " Sir Charles took the pen. If the signature was to be burned as soonas finished, he didn't mind giving it. He wrote his name in hisusual firm clear style--the writing of a man who knows his worthand is not afraid of drawing a cheque for five thousand. "Look at it long, " the Seer said, from the other side of the room. He had not watched him write it. Sir Charles stared at it fixedly. The Seer was really beginning toproduce an impression. "Now, put it in that envelope, " the Seer exclaimed. Sir Charles, like a lamb, placed it as directed. The Seer strode forward. "Give me the envelope, " he said. He took itin his hand, walked over towards the fireplace, and solemnly burntit. "See--it crumbles into ashes, " he cried. Then he came back tothe middle of the room, close to the green light, rolled up hissleeve, and held his arm before Sir Charles. There, in blood-redletters, my brother-in-law read the name, "Charles Vandrift, " inhis own handwriting! "I see how that's done, " Sir Charles murmured, drawing back. "It'sa clever delusion; but still, I see through it. It's like thatghost-book. Your ink was deep green; your light was green; you mademe look at it long; and then I saw the same thing written on theskin of your arm in complementary colours. " "You think so?" the Seer replied, with a curious curl of the lip. "I'm sure of it, " Sir Charles answered. Quick as lightning the Seer again rolled up his sleeve. "That'syour name, " he cried, in a very clear voice, "but not your wholename. What do you say, then, to my right? Is this one also acomplementary colour?" He held his other arm out. There, insea-green letters, I read the name, "Charles O'Sullivan Vandrift. "It is my brother-in-law's full baptismal designation; but he hasdropped the O'Sullivan for many years past, and, to say the truth, doesn't like it. He is a little bit ashamed of his mother's family. Charles glanced at it hurriedly. "Quite right, " he said, "quiteright!" But his voice was hollow. I could guess he didn't care tocontinue the séance. He could see through the man, of course; but itwas clear the fellow knew too much about us to be entirely pleasant. "Turn up the lights, " I said, and a servant turned them. "Shall Isay coffee and benedictine?" I whispered to Vandrift. "By all means, " he answered. "Anything to keep this fellow fromfurther impertinences! And, I say, don't you think you'd bettersuggest at the same time that the men should smoke? Even theseladies are not above a cigarette--some of them. " There was a sigh of relief. The lights burned brightly. The Seer forthe moment retired from business, so to speak. He accepted a partagawith a very good grace, sipped his coffee in a corner, and chattedto the lady who had suggested Strafford with marked politeness. Hewas a polished gentleman. Next morning, in the hall of the hotel, I saw Madame Picardet again, in a neat tailor-made travelling dress, evidently bound for therailway-station. "What, off, Madame Picardet?" I cried. She smiled, and held out her prettily-gloved hand. "Yes, I'm off, "she answered archly. "Florence, or Rome, or somewhere. I've drainedNice dry--like a sucked orange. Got all the fun I can out of it. Now I'm away again to my beloved Italy. " But it struck me as odd that, if Italy was her game, she went by theomnibus which takes down to the train de luxe for Paris. However, a man of the world accepts what a lady tells him, no matter howimprobable; and I confess, for ten days or so, I thought no moreabout her, or the Seer either. At the end of that time our fortnightly pass-book came in fromthe bank in London. It is part of my duty, as the millionaire'ssecretary, to make up this book once a fortnight, and to comparethe cancelled cheques with Sir Charles's counterfoils. On thisparticular occasion I happened to observe what I can only describeas a very grave discrepancy, --in fact, a discrepancy of 5000 pounds. On the wrong side, too. Sir Charles was debited with 5000 poundsmore than the total amount that was shown on the counterfoils. I examined the book with care. The source of the error was obvious. It lay in a cheque to Self or Bearer, for 5000 pounds, signed by SirCharles, and evidently paid across the counter in London, as it boreon its face no stamp or indication of any other office. I called in my brother-in-law from the salon to the study. "Lookhere, Charles, " I said, "there's a cheque in the book which youhaven't entered. " And I handed it to him without comment, for Ithought it might have been drawn to settle some little loss on theturf or at cards, or to make up some other affair he didn't desireto mention to me. These things will happen. He looked at it and stared hard. Then he pursed up his mouth andgave a long low "Whew!" At last he turned it over and remarked, "I say, Sey, my boy, we've just been done jolly well brown, haven't we?" I glanced at the cheque. "How do you mean?" I inquired. "Why, the Seer, " he replied, still staring at it ruefully. "Idon't mind the five thou. , but to think the fellow should havegammoned the pair of us like that--ignominious, I call it!" "How do you know it's the Seer?" I asked. "Look at the green ink, " he answered. "Besides, I recollect thevery shape of the last flourish. I flourished a bit like that inthe excitement of the moment, which I don't always do with myregular signature. " "He's done us, " I answered, recognising it. "But how the dickensdid he manage to transfer it to the cheque? This looks like yourown handwriting, Charles, not a clever forgery. " "It is, " he said. "I admit it--I can't deny it. Only fancy hisbamboozling me when I was most on my guard! I wasn't to be takenin by any of his silly occult tricks and catch-words; but it neveroccurred to me he was going to victimise me financially in thisway. I expected attempts at a loan or an extortion; but to collarmy signature to a blank cheque--atrocious!" "How did he manage it?" I asked. "I haven't the faintest conception. I only know those are thewords I wrote. I could swear to them anywhere. " "Then you can't protest the cheque?" "Unfortunately, no; it's my own true signature. " We went that afternoon without delay to see the Chief Commissaryof Police at the office. He was a gentlemanly Frenchman, much lessformal and red-tapey than usual, and he spoke excellent Englishwith an American accent, having acted, in fact, as a detective inNew York for about ten years in his early manhood. "I guess, " he said slowly, after hearing our story, "you've beenvictimised right here by Colonel Clay, gentlemen. " "Who is Colonel Clay?" Sir Charles asked. "That's just what I want to know, " the Commissary answered, inhis curious American-French-English. "He is a Colonel, because heoccasionally gives himself a commission; he is called Colonel Clay, because he appears to possess an india-rubber face, and he canmould it like clay in the hands of the potter. Real name, unknown. Nationality, equally French and English. Address, usually Europe. Profession, former maker of wax figures to the Museé Grévin. Age, what he chooses. Employs his knowledge to mould his own noseand cheeks, with wax additions, to the character he desires topersonate. Aquiline this time, you say. Hein! Anything like thesephotographs?" He rummaged in his desk and handed us two. "Not in the least, " Sir Charles answered. "Except, perhaps, as to theneck, everything here is quite unlike him. " "Then that's the Colonel!" the Commissary answered, with decision, rubbing his hands in glee. "Look here, " and he took out a penciland rapidly sketched the outline of one of the two faces--that ofa bland-looking young man, with no expression worth mentioning. "There's the Colonel in his simple disguise. Very good. Now watchme: figure to yourself that he adds here a tiny patch of wax to hisnose--an aquiline bridge--just so; well, you have him right there;and the chin, ah, one touch: now, for hair, a wig: for complexion, nothing easier: that's the profile of your rascal, isn't it?" "Exactly, " we both murmured. By two curves of the pencil, and ashock of false hair, the face was transmuted. "He had very large eyes, with very big pupils, though, " I objected, looking close; "and the man in the photograph here has them smalland boiled-fishy. " "That's so, " the Commissary answered. "A drop of belladonnaexpands--and produces the Seer; five grains of opium contract--andgive a dead-alive, stupidly-innocent appearance. Well, you leavethis affair to me, gentlemen. I'll see the fun out. I don't say I'llcatch him for you; nobody ever yet has caught Colonel Clay; butI'll explain how he did the trick; and that ought to be consolationenough to a man of your means for a trifle of five thousand!" "You are not the conventional French office-holder, M. LeCommissaire, " I ventured to interpose. "You bet!" the Commissary replied, and drew himself up like acaptain of infantry. "Messieurs, " he continued, in French, with theutmost dignity, "I shall devote the resources of this office totracing out the crime, and, if possible, to effectuating the arrestof the culpable. " We telegraphed to London, of course, and we wrote to the bank, witha full description of the suspected person. But I need hardly addthat nothing came of it. Three days later the Commissary called at our hotel. "Well, gentlemen, " he said, "I am glad to say I have discoveredeverything!" "What? Arrested the Seer?" Sir Charles cried. The Commissary drew back, almost horrified at the suggestion. "Arrested Colonel Clay?" he exclaimed. "Mais, monsieur, we are onlyhuman! Arrested him? No, not quite. But tracked out how he did it. That is already much--to unravel Colonel Clay, gentlemen!" "Well, what do you make of it?" Sir Charles asked, crestfallen. The Commissary sat down and gloated over his discovery. It wasclear a well-planned crime amused him vastly. "In the first place, monsieur, " he said, "disabuse your mind of the idea that whenmonsieur your secretary went out to fetch Señor Herrera that night, Señor Herrera didn't know to whose rooms he was coming. Quiteotherwise, in point of fact. I do not doubt myself that SeñorHerrera, or Colonel Clay (call him which you like), came to Nicethis winter for no other purpose than just to rob you. " "But I sent for him, " my brother-in-law interposed. "Yes; he _meant_ you to send for him. He forced a card, so tospeak. If he couldn't do that I guess he would be a pretty poorconjurer. He had a lady of his own--his wife, let us say, or hissister--stopping here at this hotel; a certain Madame Picardet. Through her he induced several ladies of your circle to attend hisséances. She and they spoke to you about him, and aroused yourcuriosity. You may bet your bottom dollar that when he came tothis room he came ready primed and prepared with endless factsabout both of you. " "What fools we have been, Sey, " my brother-in-law exclaimed. "I seeit all now. That designing woman sent round before dinner to say Iwanted to meet him; and by the time you got there he was readyfor bamboozling me. " "That's so, " the Commissary answered. "He had your name readypainted on both his arms; and he had made other preparations ofstill greater importance. " "You mean the cheque. Well, how did he get it?" The Commissary opened the door. "Come in, " he said. And a young manentered whom we recognised at once as the chief clerk in the ForeignDepartment of the Crédit Marseillais, the principal bank all alongthe Riviera. "State what you know of this cheque, " the Commissary said, showingit to him, for we had handed it over to the police as a piece ofevidence. "About four weeks since--" the clerk began. "Say ten days before your séance, " the Commissary interposed. "A gentleman with very long hair and an aquiline nose, dark, strange, and handsome, called in at my department and asked if Icould tell him the name of Sir Charles Vandrift's London banker. He said he had a sum to pay in to your credit, and asked if wewould forward it for him. I told him it was irregular for us toreceive the money, as you had no account with us, but that yourLondon bankers were Darby, Drummond, and Rothenberg, Limited. " "Quite right, " Sir Charles murmured. "Two days later a lady, Madame Picardet, who was a customer of ours, brought in a good cheque for three hundred pounds, signed by afirst-rate name, and asked us to pay it in on her behalf to Darby, Drummond, and Rothenberg's, and to open a London account with themfor her. We did so, and received in reply a cheque-book. " "From which this cheque was taken, as I learn from the number, by telegram from London, " the Commissary put in. "Also, that onthe same day on which your cheque was cashed, Madame Picardet, in London, withdrew her balance. " "But how did the fellow get me to sign the cheque?" Sir Charlescried. "How did he manage the card trick?" The Commissary produced a similar card from his pocket. "Was thatthe sort of thing?" he asked. "Precisely! A facsimile. " "I thought so. Well, our Colonel, I find, bought a packet of suchcards, intended for admission to a religious function, at a shopin the Quai Massena. He cut out the centre, and, see here--" TheCommissary turned it over, and showed a piece of paper pasted neatlyover the back; this he tore off, and there, concealed behind it, laya folded cheque, with only the place where the signature should bewritten showing through on the face which the Seer had presentedto us. "I call that a neat trick, " the Commissary remarked, withprofessional enjoyment of a really good deception. "But he burnt the envelope before my eyes, " Sir Charles exclaimed. "Pooh!" the Commissary answered. "What would he be worth as aconjurer, anyway, if he couldn't substitute one envelope for anotherbetween the table and the fireplace without your noticing it? AndColonel Clay, you must remember, is a prince among conjurers. " "Well, it's a comfort to know we've identified our man, and thewoman who was with him, " Sir Charles said, with a slight sigh ofrelief. "The next thing will be, of course, you'll follow them upon these clues in England and arrest them?" The Commissary shrugged his shoulders. "Arrest them!" he exclaimed, much amused. "Ah, monsieur, but you are sanguine! No officer ofjustice has ever succeeded in arresting le Colonel Caoutchouc, aswe call him in French. He is as slippery as an eel, that man. Hewriggles through our fingers. Suppose even we caught him, what couldwe prove? I ask you. Nobody who has seen him once can ever swearto him again in his next impersonation. He is impayable, this goodColonel. On the day when I arrest him, I assure you, monsieur, Ishall consider myself the smartest police-officer in Europe. " "Well, I shall catch him yet, " Sir Charles answered, and relapsedinto silence. II THE EPISODE OF THE DIAMOND LINKS "Let us take a trip to Switzerland, " said Lady Vandrift. And any onewho knows Amelia will not be surprised to learn that we _did_ take atrip to Switzerland accordingly. Nobody can drive Sir Charles, excepthis wife. And nobody at all can drive Amelia. There were difficulties at the outset, because we had not orderedrooms at the hotels beforehand, and it was well on in the season;but they were overcome at last by the usual application of a goldenkey; and we found ourselves in due time pleasantly quartered inLucerne, at that most comfortable of European hostelries, theSchweitzerhof. We were a square party of four--Sir Charles and Amelia, myself andIsabel. We had nice big rooms, on the first floor, overlooking thelake; and as none of us was possessed with the faintest symptom ofthat incipient mania which shows itself in the form of an insanedesire to climb mountain heights of disagreeable steepness andunnecessary snowiness, I will venture to assert we all enjoyedourselves. We spent most of our time sensibly in lounging about thelake on the jolly little steamers; and when we did a mountain climb, it was on the Rigi or Pilatus--where an engine undertook all themuscular work for us. As usual, at the hotel, a great many miscellaneous people showed aburning desire to be specially nice to us. If you wish to see howfriendly and charming humanity is, just try being a well-knownmillionaire for a week, and you'll learn a thing or two. WhereverSir Charles goes he is surrounded by charming and disinterestedpeople, all eager to make his distinguished acquaintance, and allfamiliar with several excellent investments, or several deservingobjects of Christian charity. It is my business in life, as hisbrother-in-law and secretary, to decline with thanks the excellentinvestments, and to throw judicious cold water on the objects ofcharity. Even I myself, as the great man's almoner, am very muchsought after. People casually allude before me to artless storiesof "poor curates in Cumberland, you know, Mr. Wentworth, " or widowsin Cornwall, penniless poets with epics in their desks, and youngpainters who need but the breath of a patron to open to them thedoors of an admiring Academy. I smile and look wise, while Iadminister cold water in minute doses; but I never report one ofthese cases to Sir Charles, except in the rare or almost unheard-ofevent where I think there is really something in them. Ever since our little adventure with the Seer at Nice, Sir Charles, who is constitutionally cautious, had been even more careful thanusual about possible sharpers. And, as chance would have it, theresat just opposite us at table d'hôte at the Schweitzerhof--'tisa fad of Amelia's to dine at table d'hôte; she says she can't bearto be boxed up all day in private rooms with "too much family"--asinister-looking man with dark hair and eyes, conspicuous by hisbushy overhanging eyebrows. My attention was first called to theeyebrows in question by a nice little parson who sat at our side, and who observed that they were made up of certain large and bristlyhairs, which (he told us) had been traced by Darwin to our monkeyancestors. Very pleasant little fellow, this fresh-faced youngparson, on his honeymoon tour with a nice wee wife, a bonnie Scotchlassie with a charming accent. I looked at the eyebrows close. Then a sudden thought struck me. "Doyou believe they're his own?" I asked of the curate; "or are theyonly stuck on--a make-up disguise? They really almost look like it. " "You don't suppose--" Charles began, and checked himself suddenly. "Yes, I do, " I answered; "the Seer!" Then I recollected my blunder, and looked down sheepishly. For, to say the truth, Vandrift hadstraightly enjoined on me long before to say nothing of our painfullittle episode at Nice to Amelia; he was afraid if _she_ once heardof it, _he_ would hear of it for ever after. "What Seer?" the little parson inquired, with parsonical curiosity. I noticed the man with the overhanging eyebrows give a queer sortof start. Charles's glance was fixed upon me. I hardly knew whatto answer. "Oh, a man who was at Nice with us last year, " I stammered out, trying hard to look unconcerned. "A fellow they talked about, that's all. " And I turned the subject. But the curate, like a donkey, wouldn't let me turn it. "Had he eyebrows like that?" he inquired, in an undertone. I wasreally angry. If this _was_ Colonel Clay, the curate was obviouslygiving him the cue, and making it much more difficult for us tocatch him, now we might possibly have lighted on the chance ofdoing so. "No, he hadn't, " I answered testily; "it was a passing expression. But this is not the man. I was mistaken, no doubt. " And I nudgedhim gently. The little curate was too innocent for anything. "Oh, I see, " hereplied, nodding hard and looking wise. Then he turned to his wifeand made an obvious face, which the man with the eyebrows couldn'tfail to notice. Fortunately, a political discussion going on a few places fartherdown the table spread up to us and diverted attention for a moment. The magical name of Gladstone saved us. Sir Charles flared up. Iwas truly pleased, for I could see Amelia was boiling over withcuriosity by this time. After dinner, in the billiard-room, however, the man with the bigeyebrows sidled up and began to talk to me. If he _was_ ColonelClay, it was evident he bore us no grudge at all for the fivethousand pounds he had done us out of. On the contrary, he seemedquite prepared to do us out of five thousand more when opportunityoffered; for he introduced himself at once as Dr. Hector Macpherson, the exclusive grantee of extensive concessions from the BrazilianGovernment on the Upper Amazons. He dived into conversation withme at once as to the splendid mineral resources of his Brazilianestate--the silver, the platinum, the actual rubies, the possiblediamonds. I listened and smiled; I knew what was coming. All heneeded to develop this magnificent concession was a little morecapital. It was sad to see thousands of pounds' worth of platinumand car-loads of rubies just crumbling in the soil or carried awayby the river, for want of a few hundreds to work them with properly. If he knew of anybody, now, with money to invest, he could recommendhim--nay, offer him--a unique opportunity of earning, say, 40 percent on his capital, on unimpeachable security. "I wouldn't do it for every man, " Dr. Hector Macpherson remarked, drawing himself up; "but if I took a fancy to a fellow who hadcommand of ready cash, I might choose to put him in the way offeathering his nest with unexampled rapidity. " "Exceedingly disinterested of you, " I answered drily, fixing myeyes on his eyebrows. The little curate, meanwhile, was playing billiards with SirCharles. His glance followed mine as it rested for a moment onthe monkey-like hairs. "False, obviously false, " he remarked with his lips; and I'm boundto confess I never saw any man speak so well by movement alone;you could follow every word though not a sound escaped him. During the rest of that evening Dr. Hector Macpherson stuck to meas close as a mustard-plaster. And he was almost as irritating. Igot heartily sick of the Upper Amazons. I have positively waded inmy time through ruby mines (in prospectuses, I mean) till the meresight of a ruby absolutely sickens me. When Charles, in an unwontedfit of generosity, once gave his sister Isabel (whom I had thehonour to marry) a ruby necklet (inferior stones), I made Isabelchange it for sapphires and amethysts, on the judicious plea thatthey suited her complexion better. (I scored one, incidentally, forhaving considered Isabel's complexion. ) By the time I went to bedI was prepared to sink the Upper Amazons in the sea, and to stab, shoot, poison, or otherwise seriously damage the man with theconcession and the false eyebrows. For the next three days, at intervals, he returned to the charge. Hebored me to death with his platinum and his rubies. He didn't want acapitalist who would personally exploit the thing; he would preferto do it all on his own account, giving the capitalist preferencedebentures of his bogus company, and a lien on the concession. Ilistened and smiled; I listened and yawned; I listened and was rude;I ceased to listen at all; but still he droned on with it. I fellasleep on the steamer one day, and woke up in ten minutes to hearhim droning yet, "And the yield of platinum per ton was certifiedto be--" I forget how many pounds, or ounces, or pennyweights. These details of assays have ceased to interest me: like the manwho "didn't believe in ghosts, " I have seen too many of them. The fresh-faced little curate and his wife, however, were quitedifferent people. He was a cricketing Oxford man; she was a breezyScotch lass, with a wholesome breath of the Highlands about her. Icalled her "White Heather. " Their name was Brabazon. Millionairesare so accustomed to being beset by harpies of every description, that when they come across a young couple who are simple andnatural, they delight in the purely human relation. We picnickedand went excursions a great deal with the honeymooners. They wereso frank in their young love, and so proof against chaff, that weall really liked them. But whenever I called the pretty girl "WhiteHeather, " she looked so shocked, and cried: "Oh, Mr. Wentworth!"Still, we were the best of friends. The curate offered to row us ina boat on the lake one day, while the Scotch lassie assured us shecould take an oar almost as well as he did. However, we did notaccept their offer, as row-boats exert an unfavourable influenceupon Amelia's digestive organs. "Nice young fellow, that man Brabazon, " Sir Charles said to me oneday, as we lounged together along the quay; "never talks aboutadvowsons or next presentations. Doesn't seem to me to care two pinsabout promotion. Says he's quite content in his country curacy;enough to live upon, and needs no more; and his wife has a little, avery little, money. I asked him about his poor to-day, on purpose totest him: these parsons are always trying to screw something out ofone for their poor; men in my position know the truth of the sayingthat we have that class of the population always with us. Wouldyou believe it, he says he hasn't any poor at all in his parish!They're all well-to-do farmers or else able-bodied labourers, andhis one terror is that somebody will come and try to pauperise them. 'If a philanthropist were to give me fifty pounds to-day for use atEmpingham, ' he said, 'I assure you, Sir Charles, I shouldn't knowwhat to do with it. I think I should buy new dresses for Jessie, whowants them about as much as anybody else in the village--that is tosay, not at all. ' There's a parson for you, Sey, my boy. Only wishwe had one of his sort at Seldon. " "He certainly doesn't want to get anything out of you, " I answered. That evening at dinner a queer little episode happened. The manwith the eyebrows began talking to me across the table in his usualfashion, full of his wearisome concession on the Upper Amazons. Iwas trying to squash him as politely as possible, when I caughtAmelia's eye. Her look amused me. She was engaged in making signalsto Charles at her side to observe the little curate's curioussleeve-links. I glanced at them, and saw at once they were asingular possession for so unobtrusive a person. They consistedeach of a short gold bar for one arm of the link, fastened by atiny chain of the same material to what seemed to my tolerablyexperienced eye--a first-rate diamond. Pretty big diamonds, too, and of remarkable shape, brilliancy, and cutting. In a moment Iknew what Amelia meant. She owned a diamond rivière, said to beof Indian origin, but short by two stones for the circumferenceof her tolerably ample neck. Now, she had long been wanting twodiamonds like these to match her set; but owing to the unusualshape and antiquated cutting of her own gems, she had neverbeen able to complete the necklet, at least without removing anextravagant amount from a much larger stone of the first water. The Scotch lassie's eyes caught Amelia's at the same time, and shebroke into a pretty smile of good-humoured amusement. "Taken inanother person, Dick, dear!" she exclaimed, in her breezy way, turning to her husband. "Lady Vandrift is observing your diamondsleeve-links. " "They're very fine gems, " Amelia observed incautiously. (A mostunwise admission if she desired to buy them. ) But the pleasant little curate was too transparently simple a soulto take advantage of her slip of judgment. "They _are_ good stones, "he replied; "very good stones--considering. They're not diamondsat all, to tell you the truth. They're best old-fashioned Orientalpaste. My great-grandfather bought them, after the siege ofSeringapatam, for a few rupees, from a Sepoy who had looted themfrom Tippoo Sultan's palace. He thought, like you, he had got a goodthing. But it turned out, when they came to be examined by experts, they were only paste--very wonderful paste; it is supposed they hadeven imposed upon Tippoo himself, so fine is the imitation. But theyare worth--well, say, fifty shillings at the utmost. " While he spoke Charles looked at Amelia, and Amelia looked atCharles. Their eyes spoke volumes. The rivière was also supposed tohave come from Tippoo's collection. Both drew at once an identicalconclusion. These were two of the same stones, very likely tornapart and disengaged from the rest in the mêlée at the capture ofthe Indian palace. "Can you take them off?" Sir Charles asked blandly. He spoke inthe tone that indicates business. "Certainly, " the little curate answered, smiling. "I'm accustomed totaking them off. They're always noticed. They've been kept in thefamily ever since the siege, as a sort of valueless heirloom, forthe sake of the picturesqueness of the story, you know; and nobodyever sees them without asking, as you do, to examine them closely. They deceive even experts at first. But they're paste, all the same;unmitigated Oriental paste, for all that. " He took them both off, and handed them to Charles. No man in Englandis a finer judge of gems than my brother-in-law. I watched himnarrowly. He examined them close, first with the naked eye, thenwith the little pocket-lens which he always carries. "Admirableimitation, " he muttered, passing them on to Amelia. "I'm notsurprised they should impose upon inexperienced observers. " But from the tone in which he said it, I could see at once he hadsatisfied himself they were real gems of unusual value. I knowCharles's way of doing business so well. His glance to Amelia meant, "These are the very stones you have so long been in search of. " The Scotch lassie laughed a merry laugh. "He sees through themnow, Dick, " she cried. "I felt sure Sir Charles would be a judgeof diamonds. " Amelia turned them over. I know Amelia, too; and I knew from theway Amelia looked at them that she meant to have them. And whenAmelia means to have anything, people who stand in the way may justas well spare themselves the trouble of opposing her. They were beautiful diamonds. We found out afterwards the littlecurate's account was quite correct: these stones _had_ come fromthe same necklet as Amelia's rivière, made for a favourite wife ofTippoo's, who had presumably as expansive personal charms as ourbeloved sister-in-law's. More perfect diamonds have seldom beenseen. They have excited the universal admiration of thieves andconnoisseurs. Amelia told me afterwards that, according to legend, a Sepoy stole the necklet at the sack of the palace, and then foughtwith another for it. It was believed that two stones got spiltin the scuffle, and were picked up and sold by a third person--alooker-on--who had no idea of the value of his booty. Amelia hadbeen hunting for them for several years to complete her necklet. "They are excellent paste, " Sir Charles observed, handing them back. "It takes a first-rate judge to detect them from the reality. LadyVandrift has a necklet much the same in character, but composedof genuine stones; and as these are so much like them, and wouldcomplete her set, to all outer appearance, I wouldn't mind givingyou, say, 10 pounds for the pair of them. " Mrs. Brabazon looked delighted. "Oh, sell them to him, Dick, " shecried, "and buy me a brooch with the money! A pair of commonlinks would do for you just as well. Ten pounds for two pastestones! It's quite a lot of money. " She said it so sweetly, with her pretty Scotch accent, that Icouldn't imagine how Dick had the heart to refuse her. But hedid, all the same. "No, Jess, darling, " he answered. "They're worthless, I know; butthey have for me a certain sentimental value, as I've often toldyou. My dear mother wore them, while she lived, as ear-rings; andas soon as she died I had them set as links in order that I mightalways keep them about me. Besides, they have historical and familyinterest. Even a worthless heirloom, after all, _is_ an heirloom. " Dr. Hector Macpherson looked across and intervened. "There is apart of my concession, " he said, "where we have reason to believe aperfect new Kimberley will soon be discovered. If at any time youwould care, Sir Charles, to look at my diamonds--when I get them--itwould afford me the greatest pleasure in life to submit them to yourconsideration. " Sir Charles could stand it no longer. "Sir, " he said, gazing acrossat him with his sternest air, "if your concession were as full ofdiamonds as Sindbad the Sailor's valley, I would not care to turn myhead to look at them. I am acquainted with the nature and practiceof salting. " And he glared at the man with the overhanging eyebrowsas if he would devour him raw. Poor Dr. Hector Macpherson subsidedinstantly. We learnt a little later that he was a harmless lunatic, who went about the world with successive concessions for ruby minesand platinum reefs, because he had been ruined and driven mad byspeculations in the two, and now recouped himself by imaginarygrants in Burmah and Brazil, or anywhere else that turned up handy. And his eyebrows, after all, were of Nature's handicraft. We weresorry for the incident; but a man in Sir Charles's position is sucha mark for rogues that, if he did not take means to protect himselfpromptly, he would be for ever overrun by them. When we went up to our salon that evening, Amelia flung herself onthe sofa. "Charles, " she broke out in the voice of a tragedy queen, "those are real diamonds, and I shall never be happy again till Iget them. " "They are real diamonds, " Charles echoed. "And you shall have them, Amelia. They're worth not less than three thousand pounds. But Ishall bid them up gently. " So, next day, Charles set to work to higgle with the curate. Brabazon, however, didn't care to part with them. He was nomoney-grubber, he said. He cared more for his mother's gift and afamily tradition than for a hundred pounds, if Sir Charles were tooffer it. Charles's eye gleamed. "But if I give you _two_ hundred!"he said insinuatingly. "What opportunities for good! You couldbuild a new wing to your village school-house!" "We have ample accommodation, " the curate answered. "No, I don'tthink I'll sell them. " Still, his voice faltered somewhat, and he looked down at theminquiringly. Charles was too precipitate. "A hundred pounds more or less matters little to me, " he said; "andmy wife has set her heart on them. It's every man's duty to pleasehis wife--isn't it, Mrs. Brabazon?--I offer you three hundred. " The little Scotch girl clasped her hands. "Three hundred pounds! Oh, Dick, just think what fun we could have, and what good we could do with it! Do let him have them. " Her accent was irresistible. But the curate shook his head. "Impossible, " he answered. "My dear mother's ear-rings! UncleAubrey would be so angry if he knew I'd sold them. I daren't faceUncle Aubrey. " "Has he expectations from Uncle Aubrey?" Sir Charles asked ofWhite Heather. Mrs. Brabazon laughed. "Uncle Aubrey! Oh, dear, no. Poor dear oldUncle Aubrey! Why, the darling old soul hasn't a penny to blesshimself with, except his pension. He's a retired post captain. "And she laughed melodiously. She was a charming woman. "Then I should disregard Uncle Aubrey's feelings, " Sir Charlessaid decisively. "No, no, " the curate answered. "Poor dear old Uncle Aubrey! Iwouldn't do anything for the world to annoy him. And he'd be sureto notice it. " We went back to Amelia. "Well, have you got them?" she asked. "No, " Sir Charles answered. "Not yet. But he's coming round, Ithink. He's hesitating now. Would rather like to sell them himself, but is afraid what 'Uncle Aubrey' would say about the matter. Hiswife will talk him out of his needless consideration for UncleAubrey's feelings; and to-morrow we'll finally clench the bargain. " Next morning we stayed late in our salon, where we alwaysbreakfasted, and did not come down to the public rooms till justbefore déjeûner, Sir Charles being busy with me over arrears ofcorrespondence. When we _did_ come down the concierge steppedforward with a twisted little feminine note for Amelia. She tookit and read it. Her countenance fell. "There, Charles, " she cried, handing it to him, "you've let the chance slip. I shall _never_ behappy now! They've gone off with the diamonds. " Charles seized the note and read it. Then he passed it on to me. It was short, but final:-- "Thursday, 6 a. M. "DEAR LADY VANDRIFT--_Will_ you kindly excuse our having gone offhurriedly without bidding you good-bye? We have just had a horridtelegram to say that Dick's favourite sister is _dangerously_ ill offever in Paris. I wanted to shake hands with you before we left--youhave all been so sweet to us--but we go by the morning train, absurdly early, and I wouldn't for worlds disturb you. Perhaps someday we may meet again--though, buried as we are in a North-countryvillage, it isn't likely; but in any case, you have secured thegrateful recollection of Yours very cordially, JESSIE BRABAZON. "P. S. --Kindest regards to Sir Charles and those _dear_ Wentworths, and a kiss for yourself, if I may venture to send you one. " "She doesn't even mention where they've gone, " Amelia exclaimed, in a very bad humour. "The concierge may know, " Isabel suggested, looking over myshoulder. We asked at his office. Yes, the gentleman's address was the Rev. Richard Peploe Brabazon, Holme Bush Cottage, Empingham, Northumberland. Any address where letters might be sent at once, in Paris? For the next ten days, or till further notice, Hôtel des DeuxMondes, Avenue de l'Opéra. Amelia's mind was made up at once. "Strike while the iron's hot, " she cried. "This sudden illness, coming at the end of their honeymoon, and involving ten days' morestay at an expensive hotel, will probably upset the curate's budget. He'll be glad to sell now. You'll get them for three hundred. Itwas absurd of Charles to offer so much at first; but offered once, of course we must stick to it. " "What do you propose to do?" Charles asked. "Write, or telegraph?" "Oh, how silly men are!" Amelia cried. "Is this the sort of businessto be arranged by letter, still less by telegram? No. Seymour muststart off at once, taking the night train to Paris; and the momenthe gets there, he must interview the curate or Mrs. Brabazon. Mrs. Brabazon's the best. She has none of this stupid, sentimentalnonsense about Uncle Aubrey. " It is no part of a secretary's duties to act as a diamond broker. But when Amelia puts her foot down, she puts her foot down--a factwhich she is unnecessarily fond of emphasising in that identicalproposition. So the self-same evening saw me safe in the train onmy way to Paris; and next morning I turned out of my comfortablesleeping-car at the Gare de Strasbourg. My orders were to bring backthose diamonds, alive or dead, so to speak, in my pocket to Lucerne;and to offer any needful sum, up to two thousand five hundredpounds, for their immediate purchase. When I arrived at the Deux Mondes I found the poor little curateand his wife both greatly agitated. They had sat up all night, theysaid, with their invalid sister; and the sleeplessness and suspensehad certainly told upon them after their long railway journey. Theywere pale and tired, Mrs. Brabazon, in particular, looking ill andworried--too much like White Heather. I was more than half ashamedof bothering them about the diamonds at such a moment, but itoccurred to me that Amelia was probably right--they would now havereached the end of the sum set apart for their Continental trip, and a little ready cash might be far from unwelcome. I broached the subject delicately. It was a fad of Lady Vandrift's, I said. She had set her heart upon those useless trinkets. And shewouldn't go without them. She must and would have them. But thecurate was obdurate. He threw Uncle Aubrey still in my teeth. Threehundred?--no, never! A mother's present; impossible, dear Jessie!Jessie begged and prayed; she had grown really attached to LadyVandrift, she said; but the curate wouldn't hear of it. I went uptentatively to four hundred. He shook his head gloomily. It wasn'ta question of money, he said. It was a question of affection. I sawit was no use trying that tack any longer. I struck out a new line. "These stones, " I said, "I think I ought to inform you, are reallydiamonds. Sir Charles is certain of it. Now, is it right for a manof your profession and position to be wearing a pair of big gemslike those, worth several hundred pounds, as ordinary sleeve-links?A woman?--yes, I grant you. But for a man, is it manly? And you acricketer!" He looked at me and laughed. "Will nothing convince you?" he cried. "They have been examined and tested by half a dozen jewellers, andwe know them to be paste. It wouldn't be right of me to sell themto you under false pretences, however unwilling on my side. I_couldn't_ do it. " "Well, then, " I said, going up a bit in my bids to meet him, "I'll put it like this. These gems are paste. But Lady Vandrifthas an unconquerable and unaccountable desire to possess them. Money doesn't matter to her. She is a friend of your wife's. As apersonal favour, won't you sell them to her for a thousand?" He shook his head. "It would be wrong, " he said, --"I might even add, criminal. " "But we take all risk, " I cried. He was absolute adamant. "As a clergyman, " he answered, "I feelI cannot do it. " "Will _you_ try, Mrs. Brabazon?" I asked. The pretty little Scotchwoman leant over and whispered. She coaxedand cajoled him. Her ways were winsome. I couldn't hear what shesaid, but he seemed to give way at last. "I should love LadyVandrift to have them, " she murmured, turning to me. "She _is_ sucha dear!" And she took out the links from her husband's cuffs andhanded them across to me. "How much?" I asked. "Two thousand?" she answered, interrogatively. It was a big rise, all at once; but such are the ways of women. "Done!" I replied. "Do you consent?" The curate looked up as if ashamed of himself. "I consent, " he said slowly, "since Jessie wishes it. But as aclergyman, and to prevent any future misunderstanding, I shouldlike you to give me a statement in writing that you buy them on mydistinct and positive declaration that they are made of paste--oldOriental paste--not genuine stones, and that I do not claim anyother qualities for them. " I popped the gems into my purse, well pleased. "Certainly, " I said, pulling out a paper. Charles, with hisunerring business instinct, had anticipated the request, and givenme a signed agreement to that effect. "You will take a cheque?" I inquired. He hesitated. "Notes of the Bank of France would suit me better, " he answered. "Very well, " I replied. "I will go out and get them. " How very unsuspicious some people are! He allowed me to go off--withthe stones in my pocket! Sir Charles had given me a blank cheque, not exceeding two thousandfive hundred pounds. I took it to our agents and cashed it for notesof the Bank of France. The curate clasped them with pleasure. Andright glad I was to go back to Lucerne that night, feeling that Ihad got those diamonds into my hands for about a thousand poundsunder their real value! At Lucerne railway station Amelia met me. She was positivelyagitated. "Have you bought them, Seymour?" she asked. "Yes, " I answered, producing my spoils in triumph. "Oh, how dreadful!" she cried, drawing back. "Do you think they'rereal? Are you sure he hasn't cheated you?" "Certain of it, " I replied, examining them. "No one can take me in, in the matter of diamonds. Why on earth should you doubt them?" "Because I've been talking to Mrs. O'Hagan, at the hotel, and shesays there's a well-known trick just like that--she's read of it ina book. A swindler has two sets--one real, one false; and he makesyou buy the false ones by showing you the real, and pretending hesells them as a special favour. " "You needn't be alarmed, " I answered. "I am a judge of diamonds. " "I shan't be satisfied, " Amelia murmured, "till Charles has seenthem. " We went up to the hotel. For the first time in her life I saw Ameliareally nervous as I handed the stones to Charles to examine. Herdoubt was contagious. I half feared, myself, he might break out intoa deep monosyllabic interjection, losing his temper in haste, as heoften does when things go wrong. But he looked at them with a smile, while I told him the price. "Eight hundred pounds less than their value, " he answered, wellsatisfied. "You have no doubt of their reality?" I asked. "Not the slightest, " he replied, gazing at them. "They are genuinestones, precisely the same in quality and type as Amelia's necklet. " Amelia drew a sigh of relief. "I'll go upstairs, " she said slowly, "and bring down my own for you both to compare with them. " One minute later she rushed down again, breathless. Amelia is farfrom slim, and I never before knew her exert herself so actively. "Charles, Charles!" she cried, "do you know what dreadful thinghas happened? Two of my own stones are gone. He's stolen a coupleof diamonds from my necklet, and sold them back to me. " She held out the rivière. It was all too true. Two gems weremissing--and these two just fitted the empty places! A light broke in upon me. I clapped my hand to my head. "By Jove, "I exclaimed, "the little curate is--Colonel Clay!" Charles clapped his own hand to his brow in turn. "And Jessie, " hecried, "White Heather--that innocent little Scotchwoman! I oftendetected a familiar ring in her voice, in spite of the charmingHighland accent. Jessie is--Madame Picardet!" We had absolutely no evidence; but, like the Commissary at Nice, we felt instinctively sure of it. Sir Charles was determined to catch the rogue. This second deceptionput him on his mettle. "The worst of the man is, " he said, "he has amethod. He doesn't go out of his way to cheat us; he makes us go outof ours to be cheated. He lays a trap, and we tumble headlong intoit. To-morrow, Sey, we must follow him on to Paris. " Amelia explained to him what Mrs. O'Hagan had said. Charles took itall in at once, with his usual sagacity. "That explains, " he said, "why the rascal used this particular trick to draw us on by. If wehad suspected him he could have shown the diamonds were real, andso escaped detection. It was a blind to draw us off from the factof the robbery. He went to Paris to be out of the way when thediscovery was made, and to get a clear day's start of us. What aconsummate rogue! And to do me twice running!" "How did he get at my jewel-case, though?" Amelia exclaimed. "That's the question, " Charles answered. "You _do_ leave it about so!" "And why didn't he steal the whole rivière at once, and sell thegems?" I inquired. "Too cunning, " Charles replied. "This was much better business. Itisn't easy to dispose of a big thing like that. In the first place, the stones are large and valuable; in the second place, they'rewell known--every dealer has heard of the Vandrift rivière, and seenpictures of the shape of them. They're marked gems, so to speak. No, he played a better game--took a couple of them off, and offered themto the only one person on earth who was likely to buy them withoutsuspicion. He came here, meaning to work this very trick; he hadthe links made right to the shape beforehand, and then he stole thestones and slipped them into their places. It's a wonderfully clevertrick. Upon my soul, I almost admire the fellow. " For Charles is a business man himself, and can appreciate businesscapacity in others. How Colonel Clay came to know about that necklet, and to appropriatetwo of the stones, we only discovered much later. I will not hereanticipate that disclosure. One thing at a time is a good rule inlife. For the moment he succeeded in baffling us altogether. However, we followed him on to Paris, telegraphing beforehand to theBank of France to stop the notes. It was all in vain. They had beencashed within half an hour of my paying them. The curate and hiswife, we found, quitted the Hôtel des Deux Mondes for parts unknownthat same afternoon. And, as usual with Colonel Clay, they vanishedinto space, leaving no clue behind them. In other words, theychanged their disguise, no doubt, and reappeared somewhere else thatnight in altered characters. At any rate, no such person as theReverend Richard Peploe Brabazon was ever afterwards heard of--and, for the matter of that, no such village exists as Empingham, Northumberland. We communicated the matter to the Parisian police. They were _most_unsympathetic. "It is no doubt Colonel Clay, " said the officialwhom we saw; "but you seem to have little just ground of complaintagainst him. As far as I can see, messieurs, there is not much tochoose between you. You, Monsieur le Chevalier, desired to buydiamonds at the price of paste. You, madame, feared you had boughtpaste at the price of diamonds. You, monsieur the secretary, triedto get the stones from an unsuspecting person for half their value. He took you all in, that brave Colonel Caoutchouc--it was diamondcut diamond. " Which was true, no doubt, but by no means consoling. We returned to the Grand Hotel. Charles was fuming with indignation. "This is really too much, " he exclaimed. "What an audacious rascal!But he will never again take me in, my dear Sey. I only hope he'lltry it on. I should love to catch him. I'd know him another time, I'm sure, in spite of his disguises. It's absurd my being trickedtwice running like this. But never again while I live! Never again, I declare to you!" "Jamais de la vie!" a courier in the hall close by murmuredresponsive. We stood under the verandah of the Grand Hotel, in thebig glass courtyard. And I verily believe that courier was reallyColonel Clay himself in one of his disguises. But perhaps we were beginning to suspect him everywhere. III THE EPISODE OF THE OLD MASTER Like most South Africans, Sir Charles Vandrift is anything butsedentary. He hates sitting down. He must always "trek. " He cannotlive without moving about freely. Six weeks in Mayfair at a time isas much as he can stand. Then he must run away incontinently forrest and change to Scotland, Homburg, Monte Carlo, Biarritz. "Iwon't be a limpet on the rock, " he says. Thus it came to pass thatin the early autumn we found ourselves stopping at the Métropoleat Brighton. We were the accustomed nice little family party--SirCharles and Amelia, myself and Isabel, with the suite as usual. On the first Sunday morning after our arrival we strolled out, Charles and I--I regret to say during the hours allotted for Divineservice--on to the King's Road, to get a whiff of fresh air, and aglimpse of the waves that were churning the Channel. The two ladies(with their bonnets) had gone to church; but Sir Charles had risenlate, fatigued from the week's toil, while I myself was sufferingfrom a matutinal headache, which I attributed to the close air inthe billiard-room overnight, combined, perhaps, with the insidiouseffect of a brand of soda-water to which I was little accustomed; Ihad used it to dilute my evening whisky. We were to meet our wivesafterwards at the church parade--an institution to which I believeboth Amelia and Isabel attach even greater importance than to thesermon which precedes it. We sat down on a glass seat. Charles gazed inquiringly up and downthe King's Road, on the look-out for a boy with Sunday papers. At last one passed. "Observer, " my brother-in-law called outlaconically. "Ain't got none, " the boy answered, brandishing his bundle in ourfaces. "'Ave a Referee or a Pink 'Un?" Charles, however, is not a Refereader, while as to the Pink 'Un, heconsiders it unsuitable for public perusal on Sunday morning. It maybe read indoors, but in the open air its blush betrays it. So heshook his head, and muttered, "If you pass an Observer, send him onhere at once to me. " A polite stranger who sat close to us turned round with a pleasantsmile. "Would you allow me to offer you one?" he said, drawing acopy from his pocket. "I fancy I bought the last. There's a runon them to-day, you see. Important news this morning from theTransvaal. " Charles raised his eyebrows, and accepted it, as I thought, just atrifle grumpily. So, to remove the false impression his surlinessmight produce on so benevolent a mind, I entered into conversationwith the polite stranger. He was a man of middle age, and mediumheight, with a cultivated air, and a pair of gold pince-nez; hiseyes were sharp; his voice was refined; he dropped into talk beforelong about distinguished people just then in Brighton. It was clearat once that he was hand in glove with many of the very best kind. We compared notes as to Nice, Rome, Florence, Cairo. Our newacquaintance had scores of friends in common with us, it seemed;indeed, our circles so largely coincided, that I wondered we hadnever happened till then to knock up against one another. "And Sir Charles Vandrift, the great African millionaire, " he saidat last, "do you know anything of _him_? I'm told he's at presentdown here at the Métropole. " I waved my hand towards the person in question. "_This_ is Sir Charles Vandrift, " I answered, with proprietary pride;"and _I_ am his brother-in-law, Mr. Seymour Wentworth. " "Oh, indeed!" the stranger answered, with a curious air of drawingin his horns. I wondered whether he had just been going to pretendhe knew Sir Charles, or whether perchance he was on the point ofsaying something highly uncomplimentary, and was glad to haveescaped it. By this time, however, Charles laid down the paper and chimed intoour conversation. I could see at once from his mollified tone thatthe news from the Transvaal was favourable to his operations inCloetedorp Golcondas. He was therefore in a friendly and affabletemper. His whole manner changed at once. He grew polite in returnto the polite stranger. Besides, we knew the man moved in the bestsociety; he had acquaintances whom Amelia was most anxious to securefor her "At Homes" in Mayfair--young Faith, the novelist, and SirRichard Montrose, the great Arctic traveller. As for the painters, it was clear that he was sworn friends with the whole lot of them. He dined with Academicians, and gave weekly breakfasts to themembers of the Institute. Now, Amelia is particularly desirousthat her salon should not be considered too exclusively financialand political in character: with a solid basis of M. P. 's andmillionaires, she loves a delicate under-current of literature, art, and the musical glasses. Our new acquaintance was extremelycommunicative: "Knows his place in society, Sey, " Sir Charles saidto me afterwards, "and is therefore not afraid of talking freely, as so many people are who have doubts about their position. " Weexchanged cards before we rose. Our new friend's name turned outto be Dr. Edward Polperro. "In practice here?" I inquired, though his garb belied it. "Oh, not medical, " he answered. "I am an LL. D. Don't you know. Iinterest myself in art, and buy to some extent for the NationalGallery. " The very man for Amelia's "At Homes"! Sir Charles snapped at himinstantly. "I've brought my four-in-hand down here with me, " hesaid, in his best friendly manner, "and we think of tooling overto-morrow to Lewes. If you'd care to take a seat I'm sure LadyVandrift would be charmed to see you. " "You're very kind, " the Doctor said, "on so casual an introduction. I'm sure I shall be delighted. " "We start from the Métropole at ten-thirty, " Charles went on. "I shall be there. Good morning!" And, with a satisfied smile, herose and left us, nodding. We returned to the lawn, to Amelia and Isabel. Our new friend passedus once or twice. Charles stopped him and introduced him. He waswalking with two ladies, most elegantly dressed in rather peculiarartistic dresses. Amelia was taken at first sight by his manner. "One could see at a glance, " she said, "he was a person of cultureand of real distinction. I wonder whether he could bring the P. R. A. To my Parliamentary 'At Home' on Wednesday fortnight?" Next day, at ten-thirty, we started on our drive. Our team has beenconsidered the best in Sussex. Charles is an excellent, thoughsomewhat anxious--or, might I say better, somewhat careful?--whip. He finds the management of two leaders and two wheelers fills hishands for the moment, both literally and figuratively, leaving verylittle time for general conversation. Lady Belleisle of Beaconbloomed beside him on the box (her bloom is perennial, and appliedby her maid); Dr. Polperro occupied the seat just behind with myselfand Amelia. The Doctor talked most of the time to Lady Vandrift: hisdiscourse was of picture-galleries, which Amelia detests, but inwhich she thinks it incumbent upon her, as Sir Charles's wife, toaffect now and then a cultivated interest. Noblesse oblige; and thewalls of Castle Seldon, our place in Ross-shire, are almost coverednow with Leaders and with Orchardsons. This result was first arrivedat by a singular accident. Sir Charles wanted a leader--for hiscoach, you understand--and told an artistic friend so. The artisticfriend brought him a Leader next week with a capital L; and SirCharles was so taken aback that he felt ashamed to confess theerror. So he was turned unawares into a patron of painting. Dr. Polperro, in spite of his too pronouncedly artistic talk, provedon closer view a most agreeable companion. He diversified his artcleverly with anecdotes and scandals; he told us exactly whichfamous painters had married their cooks, and which had only marriedtheir models; and otherwise showed himself a most diverting talker. Among other things, however, he happened to mention once that hehad recently discovered a genuine Rembrandt--a quite undoubtedRembrandt, which had remained for years in the keeping of acertain obscure Dutch family. It had always been allowed to be amasterpiece of the painter, but it had seldom been seen for thelast half-century save by a few intimate acquaintances. It was aportrait of one Maria Vanrenen of Haarlem, and he had bought itof her descendants at Gouda, in Holland. I saw Charles prick up his ears, though he took no open notice. This Maria Vanrenen, as it happened, was a remote collateralancestress of the Vandrifts, before they emigrated to the Cape in1780; and the existence of the portrait, though not its whereabouts, was well known in the family. Isabel had often mentioned it. If itwas to be had at anything like a reasonable price, it would be asplendid thing for the boys (Sir Charles, I ought to say, has twosons at Eton) to possess an undoubted portrait of an ancestressby Rembrandt. Dr. Polperro talked a good deal after that about this valuable find. He had tried to sell it at first to the National Gallery; butthough the Directors admired the work immensely, and admitted itsgenuineness, they regretted that the funds at their disposal thisyear did not permit them to acquire so important a canvas at aproper figure. South Kensington again was too poor; but the Doctorwas in treaty at present with the Louvre and with Berlin. Still, it was a pity a fine work of art like that, once brought into thecountry, should be allowed to go out of it. Some patriotic patronof the fine arts ought to buy it for his own house, or elsemunificently present it to the nation. All the time Charles said nothing. But I could feel him cogitating. He even looked behind him once, near a difficult corner (while theguard was actually engaged in tootling his horn to let passers-byknow that the coach was coming), and gave Amelia a warning glanceto say nothing committing, which had at once the requisite effectof sealing her mouth for the moment. It is a very unusual thingfor Charles to look back while driving. I gathered from his doingso that he was inordinately anxious to possess this Rembrandt. When we arrived at Lewes we put up our horses at the inn, and Charles ordered a lunch on his wonted scale of princelymagnificence. Meanwhile we wandered, two and two, about the townand castle. I annexed Lady Belleisle, who is at least amusing. Charles drew me aside before starting. "Look here, Sey, " hesaid, "we must be _very_ careful. This man, Polperro, is a chanceacquaintance. There's nothing an astute rogue can take one in overmore easily than an Old Master. If the Rembrandt is genuine Iought to have it; if it really represents Maria Vanrenen, it's aduty I owe to the boys to buy it. But I've been done twice lately, and I won't be done a third time. We must go to work cautiously. " "You are right, " I answered. "No more seers and curates!" "If this man's an impostor, " Charles went on--"and in spite of whathe says about the National Gallery and so forth, we know nothing ofhim--the story he tells is just the sort of one such a fellow wouldtrump up in a moment to deceive me. He could easily learn who Iwas--I'm a well-known figure; he knew I was in Brighton, and hemay have been sitting on that glass seat on Sunday on purpose toentrap me. " "He introduced your name, " I said, "and the moment he found out whoI was he plunged into talk with me. " "Yes, " Charles continued. "He may have learned about the portraitof Maria Vanrenen, which my grandmother always said was preservedat Gouda; and, indeed, I myself have often mentioned it, as youdoubtless remember. If so, what more natural, say, for a rogue thanto begin talking about the portrait in that innocent way to Amelia?If he wants a Rembrandt, I believe they can be turned out to orderto any amount in Birmingham. The moral of all which is, it behovesus to be careful. " "Right you are, " I answered; "and I am keeping my eye upon him. " We drove back by another road, overshadowed by beech-trees inautumnal gold. It was a delightful excursion. Dr. Polperro's heartwas elated by lunch and the excellent dry Monopole. He talkedamazingly. I never heard a man with a greater or more varied flowof anecdote. He had been everywhere and knew all about everybody. Amelia booked him at once for her "At Home" on Wednesday week, and he promised to introduce her to several artistic and literarycelebrities. That evening, however, about half-past seven, Charles and I strolledout together on the King's Road for a blow before dinner. We dine ateight. The air was delicious. We passed a small new hotel, verysmart and exclusive, with a big bow window. There, in evening dress, lights burning and blind up, sat our friend, Dr. Polperro, with alady facing him, young, graceful, and pretty. A bottle of champagnestood open before him. He was helping himself plentifully tohot-house grapes, and full of good humour. It was clear he and thelady were occupied in the intense enjoyment of some capital joke;for they looked queerly at one another, and burst now and againinto merry peals of laughter. I drew back. So did Sir Charles. One idea passed at once throughboth our minds. I murmured, "Colonel Clay!" He answered, "_and_Madame Picardet!" They were not in the least like the Reverend Richard and Mrs. Brabazon. But that clinched the matter. Nor did I see a sign of theaquiline nose of the Mexican Seer. Still, I had learnt by then todiscount appearances. If these were indeed the famous sharper andhis wife or accomplice, we must be very careful. We were forewarnedthis time. Supposing he had the audacity to try a third trick ofthe sort upon us we had him under our thumbs. Only, we must takesteps to prevent his dexterously slipping through our fingers. "He can wriggle like an eel, " said the Commissary at Nice. We bothrecalled those words, and laid our plans deep to prevent the man'swriggling away from us on this third occasion. "I tell you what it is, Sey, " my brother-in-law said, withimpressive slowness. "This time we must deliberately lay ourselvesout to be swindled. We must propose of our own accord to buy thepicture, making him guarantee it in writing as a genuine Rembrandt, and taking care to tie him down by most stringent conditions. Butwe must seem at the same time to be unsuspicious and innocent asbabes; we must swallow whole whatever lies he tells us; pay hisprice--nominally--by cheque for the portrait; and then, arrest himthe moment the bargain is complete, with the proofs of his guiltthen and there upon him. Of course, what he'll try to do will be tovanish into thin air at once, as he did at Nice and Paris; but, thistime, we'll have the police in waiting and everything ready. We'llavoid precipitancy, but we'll avoid delay too. We must hold ourhands off till he's actually accepted and pocketed the money; andthen, we must nab him instantly, and walk him off to the local BowStreet. That's my plan of campaign. Meanwhile, we should appearall trustful innocence and confiding guilelessness. " In pursuance of this well-laid scheme, we called next day on Dr. Polperro at his hotel, and were introduced to his wife, a daintylittle woman, in whom we affected not to recognise that arch MadamePicardet or that simple White Heather. The Doctor talked charmingly(as usual) about art--what a well-informed rascal he was, to besure!--and Sir Charles expressed some interest in the supposedRembrandt. Our new friend was delighted; we could see by hiswell-suppressed eagerness of tone that he knew us at once forprobable purchasers. He would run up to town next day, he said, andbring down the portrait. And in effect, when Charles and I took ourwonted places in the Pullman next morning, on our way up to thehalf-yearly meeting of Cloetedorp Golcondas, there was our Doctor, leaning back in his arm-chair as if the car belonged to him. Charlesgave me an expressive look. "Does it in style, " he whispered, "doesn't he? Takes it out of my five thousand; or discounts theamount he means to chouse me of with his spurious Rembrandt. " Arrived in town, we went to work at once. We set a private detectivefrom Marvillier's to watch our friend; and from him we learned thatthe so-called Doctor dropped in for a picture that day at a dealer'sin the West-end (I suppress the name, having a judicious fear ofthe law of libel ever before my eyes), a dealer who was known to bemixed up before then in several shady or disreputable transactions. Though, to be sure, my experience has been that picture dealersare--picture dealers. Horses rank first in my mind as begetters andproducers of unscrupulous agents, but pictures run them a very goodsecond. Anyhow, we found out that our distinguished art-criticpicked up his Rembrandt at this dealer's shop, and came down withit in his care the same night to Brighton. In order not to act precipitately, and so ruin our plans, we inducedDr. Polperro (what a cleverly chosen name!) to bring the Rembrandtround to the Métropole for our inspection, and to leave it with uswhile we got the opinion of an expert from London. The expert came down, and gave us a full report upon the allegedOld Master. In his judgment, it was not a Rembrandt at all, buta cunningly-painted and well-begrimed modern Dutch imitation. Moreover, he showed us by documentary evidence that the realportrait of Maria Vanrenen had, as a matter of fact, been broughtto England five years before, and sold to Sir J. H. Tomlinson, thewell-known connoisseur, for eight thousand pounds. Dr. Polperro'spicture was, therefore, at best either a replica by Rembrandt; orelse, more probably, a copy by a pupil; or, most likely of all, a mere modern forgery. We were thus well prepared to fasten our charge of criminalconspiracy upon the self-styled Doctor. But in order to makeassurance still more certain, we threw out vague hints to him thatthe portrait of Maria Vanrenen might really be elsewhere, and evensuggested in his hearing that it might not improbably have got intothe hands of that omnivorous collector, Sir J. H. Tomlinson. Butthe vendor was proof against all such attempts to decry his goods. He had the effrontery to brush away the documentary evidence, and todeclare that Sir J. H. Tomlinson (one of the most learned and astutepicture-buyers in England) had been smartly imposed upon by a needyDutch artist with a talent for forgery. The real Maria Vanrenen, hedeclared and swore, was the one he offered us. "Success has turnedthe man's head, " Charles said to me, well pleased. "He thinks wewill swallow any obvious lie he chooses to palm off upon us. But thebucket has come once too often to the well. This time we checkmatehim. " It was a mixed metaphor, I admit; but Sir Charles's tropesare not always entirely superior to criticism. So we pretended to believe our man, and accepted his assurances. Next came the question of price. This was warmly debated, for form'ssake only. Sir J. H. Tomlinson had paid eight thousand for hisgenuine Maria. The Doctor demanded ten thousand for his spuriousone. There was really no reason why we should higgle and dispute, for Charles meant merely to give his cheque for the sum and thenarrest the fellow; but, still, we thought it best for the avoidanceof suspicion to make a show of resistance; and we at last beat himdown to nine thousand guineas. For this amount he was to give us awritten warranty that the work he sold us was a genuine Rembrandt, that it represented Maria Vanrenen of Haarlem, and that he hadbought it direct, without doubt or question, from that good lady'sdescendants at Gouda, in Holland. It was capitally done. We arranged the thing to perfection. We had aconstable in waiting in our rooms at the Métropole, and we settledthat Dr. Polperro was to call at the hotel at a certain fixed hourto sign the warranty and receive his money. A regular agreement onsound stamped paper was drawn out between us. At the appointed timethe "party of the first part" came, having already given us overpossession of the portrait. Charles drew a cheque for the amountagreed upon, and signed it. Then he handed it to the Doctor. Polperro just clutched at it. Meanwhile, I took up my post bythe door, while two men in plain clothes, detectives from thepolice-station, stood as men-servants and watched the windows. Wefeared lest the impostor, once he had got the cheque, should dodgeus somehow, as he had already done at Nice and in Paris. The momenthe had pocketed his money with a smile of triumph, I advanced to himrapidly. I had in my possession a pair of handcuffs. Before he knewwhat was happening, I had slipped them on his wrists and securedthem dexterously, while the constable stepped forward. "We have gotyou this time!" I cried. "We know who you are, Dr. Polperro. Youare--Colonel Clay, alias Señor Antonio Herrera, alias the ReverendRichard Peploe Brabazon. " I never saw any man so astonished in my life! He was utterlyflabbergasted. Charles thought he must have expected to get clearaway at once, and that this prompt action on our part had takenthe fellow so much by surprise as to simply unman him. He gazedabout him as if he hardly realised what was happening. "Are these two raving maniacs?" he asked at last, "or what do theymean by this nonsensical gibberish about Antonio Herrera?" The constable laid his hand on the prisoner's shoulder. "It's all right, my man, " he said. "We've got warrants out againstyou. I arrest you, Edward Polperro, alias the Reverend RichardPeploe Brabazon, on a charge of obtaining money under falsepretences from Sir Charles Vandrift, K. C. M. G. , M. P. , on his sworninformation, now here subscribed to. " For Charles had had thething drawn out in readiness beforehand. Our prisoner drew himself up. "Look here, officer, " he said, in anoffended tone, "there's some mistake here in this matter. I havenever given an alias at any time in my life. How do you know thisis really Sir Charles Vandrift? It may be a case of bullyingpersonation. My belief is, though, they're a pair of escapedlunatics. " "We'll see about that to-morrow, " the constable said, collaring him. "At present you've got to go off with me quietly to the station, where these gentlemen will enter up the charge against you. " They carried him off, protesting. Charles and I signed thecharge-sheet; and the officer locked him up to await his examinationnext day before the magistrate. We were half afraid even now the fellow would manage somehow toget out on bail and give us the slip in spite of everything;and, indeed, he protested in the most violent manner against thetreatment to which we were subjecting "a gentleman in his position. "But Charles took care to tell the police it was all right; that hewas a dangerous and peculiarly slippery criminal, and that on noaccount must they let him go on any pretext whatever, till he hadbeen properly examined before the magistrates. We learned at the hotel that night, curiously enough, that therereally _was_ a Dr. Polperro, a distinguished art critic, whosename, we didn't doubt, our impostor had been assuming. Next morning, when we reached the court, an inspector met us with avery long face. "Look here, gentlemen, " he said, "I'm afraid you'vecommitted a very serious blunder. You've made a precious bad mess ofit. You've got yourselves into a scrape; and, what's worse, you'vegot us into one also. You were a deal too smart with your sworninformation. We've made inquiries about this gentleman, and we findthe account he gives of himself is perfectly correct. His name _is_Polperro; he's a well-known art critic and collector of pictures, employed abroad by the National Gallery. He was formerly an officialin the South Kensington Museum, and he's a C. B. And LL. D. , veryhighly respected. You've made a sad mistake, that's where it is; andyou'll probably have to answer a charge of false imprisonment, inwhich I'm afraid you have also involved our own department. " Charles gasped with horror. "You haven't let him out, " he cried, "onthose absurd representations? You haven't let him slip through yourhands as you did that murderer fellow?" "Let him slip through our hands?" the inspector cried. "I only wishhe would. There's no chance of that, unfortunately. He's in thecourt there, this moment, breathing out fire and slaughter againstyou both; and we're here to protect you if he should happen to fallupon you. He's been locked up all night on your mistaken affidavits, and, naturally enough, he's mad with anger. " "If you haven't let him go, I'm satisfied, " Charles answered. "He's a fox for cunning. Where is he? Let me see him. " We went into the court. There we saw our prisoner conversingamicably, in the most excited way, with the magistrate (who, itseems, was a personal friend of his); and Charles at once wentup and spoke to them. Dr. Polperro turned round and glared at himthrough his pince-nez. "The only possible explanation of this person's extraordinary andincredible conduct, " he said, "is, that he must be mad--and hissecretary equally so. He made my acquaintance, unasked, on a glassseat on the King's Road; invited me to go on his coach to Lewes;volunteered to buy a valuable picture of me; and then, at thelast moment, unaccountably gave me in charge on this silly andpreposterous trumped-up accusation. I demand a summons for falseimprisonment. " Suddenly it began to dawn upon us that the tables were turned. Bydegrees it came out that we had made a mistake. Dr. Polperro wasreally the person he represented himself to be, and had been always. His picture, we found out, was the real Maria Vanrenen, and agenuine Rembrandt, which he had merely deposited for cleaning andrestoring at the suspicious dealer's. Sir J. H. Tomlinson had beenimposed upon and cheated by a cunning Dutchman; _his_ picture, thoughalso an undoubted Rembrandt, was _not_ the Maria, and was an inferiorspecimen in bad preservation. The authority we had consulted turnedout to be an ignorant, self-sufficient quack. The Maria, moreover, was valued by other experts at no more than five or six thousandguineas. Charles wanted to cry off his bargain, but Dr. Polperronaturally wouldn't hear of it. The agreement was a legally bindinginstrument, and what passed in Charles's mind at the moment hadnothing to do with the written contract. Our adversary onlyconsented to forego the action for false imprisonment on conditionthat Charles inserted a printed apology in the Times, and paid himfive hundred pounds compensation for damage to character. So thatwas the end of our well-planned attempt to arrest the swindler. Not quite the end, however; for, of course, after this, the wholeaffair got by degrees into the papers. Dr. Polperro, who was afamiliar person in literary and artistic society, as it turned out, brought an action against the so-called expert who had declaredagainst the genuineness of his alleged Rembrandt, and convicted himof the grossest ignorance and misstatement. Then paragraphs gotabout. The World showed us up in a sarcastic article; and Truth, which has always been terribly severe upon Sir Charles and all theother South Africans, had a pungent set of verses on "High Art inKimberley. " By this means, as we suppose, the affair became knownto Colonel Clay himself; for a week or two later my brother-in-lawreceived a cheerful little note on scented paper from our persistentsharper. It was couched in these terms:-- "Oh, you innocent infant! "Bless your ingenuous little heart! And did it believe, then, ithad positively caught the redoubtable colonel? And had it ready anice little pinch of salt to put upon his tail? And is it true itsrespected name is Sir Simple Simon? How heartily we have laughed, White Heather and I, at your neat little ruses! It would pay you, by the way, to take White Heather into your house for six monthsto instruct you in the agreeable sport of amateur detectives. Yourcharming naivete quite moves our envy. So you actually imagined aman of my brains would condescend to anything so flat and stale asthe silly and threadbare Old Master deception! And this in theso-called nineteenth century! O sancta simplicitas! When againshall such infantile transparency be mine? When, ah, when? But nevermind, dear friend. Though you didn't catch me, we shall meet beforelong at some delightful Philippi. "Yours, with the profoundest respect and gratitude, "ANTONIO HERRERA, "Otherwise RICHARD PEPLOE BRABAZON. " Charles laid down the letter with a deep-drawn sigh. "Sey, my boy, "he mused aloud, "no fortune on earth--not even mine--can go onstanding it. These perpetual drains begin really to terrify me. Iforesee the end. I shall die in a workhouse. What with the money herobs me of when he _is_ Colonel Clay, and the money I waste upon himwhen he _isn't_ Colonel Clay, the man is beginning to tell upon mynervous system. I shall withdraw altogether from this worrying life. I shall retire from a scheming and polluted world to some untaintedspot in the fresh, pure mountains. " "You _must_ need rest and change, " I said, "when you talk like that. Let us try the Tyrol. " IV THE EPISODE OF THE TYROLEAN CASTLE We went to Meran. The place was practically decided for us byAmelia's French maid, who really acts on such occasions as ourguide and courier. She is _such_ a clever girl, is Amelia's French maid. Whenever weare going anywhere, Amelia generally asks (and accepts) her adviceas to choice of hotels and furnished villas. Césarine has been allover the Continent in her time; and, being Alsatian by birth, she ofcourse speaks German as well as she speaks French, while her longresidence with Amelia has made her at last almost equally at homein our native English. She is a treasure, that girl; so neat anddexterous, and not above dabbling in anything on earth she may beasked to turn her hand to. She walks the world with a needle-casein one hand and an etna in the other. She can cook an omelette onoccasion, or drive a Norwegian cariole; she can sew, and knit, andmake dresses, and cure a cold, and do anything else on earth you askher. Her salads are the most savoury I ever tasted; while as for hercoffee (which she prepares for us in the train on long journeys), there isn't a chef de cuisine at a West-end club to be named in thesame day with her. So, when Amelia said, in her imperious way, "Césarine, we want to goto the Tyrol--now--at once--in mid-October; where do you advise usto put up?"--Césarine answered, like a shot, "The Erzherzog Johann, of course, at Meran, for the autumn, madame. " "Is he . . . An archduke?" Amelia asked, a little staggered at suchapparent familiarity with Imperial personages. "Ma foi! no, madame. He is an hotel--as you would say in England, the 'Victoria' or the 'Prince of Wales's'--the most comfortablehotel in all South Tyrol; and at this time of year, naturally, youmust go beyond the Alps; it begins already to be cold at Innsbruck. " So to Meran we went; and a prettier or more picturesque place, Iconfess, I have seldom set eyes on. A rushing torrent; high hillsand mountain peaks; terraced vineyard slopes; old walls and towers;quaint, arcaded streets; a craggy waterfall; a promenade afterthe fashion of a German Spa; and when you lift your eyes from theground, jagged summits of Dolomites: it was a combination such asI had never before beheld; a Rhine town plumped down among greenAlpine heights, and threaded by the cool colonnades of Italy. I approved Césarine's choice; and I was particularly glad shehad pronounced for an hotel, where all is plain sailing, insteadof advising a furnished villa, the arrangements for which wouldnaturally have fallen in large part upon the shoulders of thewretched secretary. As in any case I have to do three hours' worka day, I feel that such additions to my normal burden may wellbe spared me. I tipped Césarine half a sovereign, in fact, forher judicious choice. Césarine glanced at it on her palm in hermysterious, curious, half-smiling way, and pocketed it at once witha "Merci, monsieur!" that had a touch of contempt in it. I alwaysfancy Césarine has large ideas of her own on the subject of tipping, and thinks very small beer of the modest sums a mere secretary canalone afford to bestow upon her. The great peculiarity of Meran is the number of schlosses (I believemy plural is strictly irregular, but very convenient to Englishears) which you can see in every direction from its outskirts. Astatistical eye, it is supposed, can count no fewer than forty ofthese picturesque, ramshackled old castles from a point on theKüchelberg. For myself, I hate statistics (except as an element infinancial prospectuses), and I really don't know how many ruinouspiles Isabel and Amelia counted under Césarine's guidance; but Iremember that most of them were quaint and beautiful, and that theirvariety of architecture seemed positively bewildering. One would besquare, with funny little turrets stuck out at each angle; whileanother would rejoice in a big round keep, and spread on either sidelong, ivy-clad walls and delightful bastions. Charles was immenselytaken with them. He loves the picturesque, and has a poet hiddenin that financial soul of his. (Very effectually hidden, though, Iam ready to grant you. ) From the moment he came he felt at oncehe would love to possess a castle of his own among these romanticmountains. "Seldon!" he exclaimed contemptuously. "They call Seldona castle! But you and I know very well, Sey, it was built in 1860, with sham antique stones, for Macpherson of Seldon, at market rates, by Cubitt and Co. , worshipful contractors of London. Macphersoncharged me for that sham antiquity a preposterous price, atwhich one ought to procure a real ancestral mansion. Now, _these_castles are real. They are hoary with antiquity. Schloss Tyrol isRomanesque--tenth or eleventh century. " (He had been reading it upin Baedeker. ) "That's the sort of place for _me_!--tenth or eleventhcentury. I could live here, remote from stocks and shares, for ever;and in these sequestered glens, recollect, Sey, my boy, there areno Colonel Clays, and no arch Madame Picardets!" As a matter of fact, he could have lived there six weeks, and thentired for Park Lane, Monte Carlo, Brighton. As for Amelia, strange to say, she was equally taken with this newfad of Charles's. As a rule she hates everywhere on earth saveLondon, except during the time when no respectable person can beseen in town, and when modest blinds shade the scandalised face ofMayfair and Belgravia. She bores herself to death even at SeldonCastle, Ross-shire, and yawns all day long in Paris or Vienna. Sheis a confirmed Cockney. Yet, for some occult reason, my amiablesister-in-law fell in love with South Tyrol. She wanted to vegetatein that lush vegetation. The grapes were being picked; pumpkins hungover the walls; Virginia creeper draped the quaint gray schlosseswith crimson cloaks; and everything was as beautiful as a dream ofBurne-Jones's. (I know I am quite right in mentioning Burne-Jones, especially in connection with Romanesque architecture, because Iheard him highly praised on that very ground by our friend andenemy, Dr. Edward Polperro. ) So perhaps it was excusable thatAmelia should fall in love with it all, under the circumstances;besides, she is largely influenced by what Césarine says, andCésarine declares there is no climate in Europe like Meran inwinter. I do not agree with her. The sun sets behind the hills atthree in the afternoon, and a nasty warm wind blows moist overthe snow in January and February. However, Amelia set Césarine to inquire of the people at the hotelabout the market price of tumbledown ruins, and the number of sucheligible family mausoleums just then for sale in the immediateneighbourhood. Césarine returned with a full, true, and particularlist, adorned with flowers of rhetoric which would have delightedthe soul of good old John Robins. They were all picturesque, allRomanesque, all richly ivy-clad, all commodious, all historical, and all the property of high well-born Grafs and very honourableFreiherrs. Most of them had been the scene of celebrated tournaments;several of them had witnessed the gorgeous marriages of Holy RomanEmperors; and every one of them was provided with some choice andselected first-class murders. Ghosts could be arranged for or not, as desired; and armorial bearings could be thrown in with the moatfor a moderate extra remuneration. The two we liked best of all these tempting piles were SchlossPlanta and Schloss Lebenstein. We drove past both, and even Imyself, I confess, was distinctly taken with them. (Besides, whena big purchase like this is on the stocks, a poor beggar of asecretary has always a chance of exerting his influence and earningfor himself some modest commission. ) Schloss Planta was the moststriking externally, I should say, with its Rhine-like towers, andits great gnarled ivy-stems, that looked as if they antedated theHouse of Hapsburg; but Lebenstein was said to be better preservedwithin, and more fitted in every way for modern occupation. Itsstaircase has been photographed by 7000 amateurs. We got tickets to view. The invaluable Césarine procured them forus. Armed with these, we drove off one fine afternoon, meaning togo to Planta, by Césarine's recommendation. Half-way there, however, we changed our minds, as it was such a lovely day, and went on upthe long, slow hill to Lebenstein. I must say the drive through thegrounds was simply charming. The castle stands perched (say ratherpoised, like St. Michael the archangel in Italian pictures) on asolitary stack or crag of rock, looking down on every side uponits own rich vineyards. Chestnuts line the glens; the valley ofthe Etsch spreads below like a picture. The vineyards alone make a splendid estate, by the way; they producea delicious red wine, which is exported to Bordeaux, and therebottled and sold as a vintage claret under the name of ChateauMonnivet. Charles revelled in the idea of growing his own wines. "Here we could sit, " he cried to Amelia, "in the most literal sense, under our own vine and fig-tree. Delicious retirement! For my part, I'm sick and tired of the hubbub of Threadneedle Street. " We knocked at the door--for there was really no bell, but aponderous, old-fashioned, wrought-iron knocker. So deliciouslymediæval! The late Graf von Lebenstein had recently died, weknew; and his son, the present Count, a young man of means, havinginherited from his mother's family a still more ancient andsplendid schloss in the Salzburg district, desired to sell thisoutlying estate in order to afford himself a yacht, after the mannerthat is now becoming increasingly fashionable with the noblemen andgentlemen in Germany and Austria. The door was opened for us by a high well-born menial, attired ina very ancient and honourable livery. Nice antique hall; suits ofancestral armour, trophies of Tyrolese hunters, coats of arms ofancient counts--the very thing to take Amelia's aristocratic andromantic fancy. The whole to be sold exactly as it stood; ancestorsto be included at a valuation. We went through the reception-rooms. They were lofty, charming, andwith glorious views, all the more glorious for being framed by thosegraceful Romanesque windows, with their slender pillars and quaint, round-topped arches. Sir Charles had made his mind up. "I must andwill have it!" he cried. "This is the place for me. Seldon! Pah, Seldon is a modern abomination. " Could we see the high well-born Count? The liveried servant(somewhat haughtily) would inquire of his Serenity. Sir Charlessent up his card, and also Lady Vandrift's. These foreigners knowtitle spells money in England. He was right in his surmise. Two minutes later the Count enteredwith our cards in his hands. A good-looking young man, with thecharacteristic Tyrolese long black moustache, dressed in agentlemanly variant on the costume of the country. His air was ajager's; the usual blackcock's plume stuck jauntily in the side ofthe conical hat (which he held in his hand), after the universalAustrian fashion. He waved us to seats. We sat down. He spoke to us in French; hisEnglish, he remarked, with a pleasant smile, being a négligeablequantity. We might speak it, he went on; he could understand prettywell; but he preferred to answer, if we would allow him, in Frenchor German. "French, " Charles replied, and the negotiation continued thenceforthin that language. It is the only one, save English and his ancestralDutch, with which my brother-in-law possesses even a noddingacquaintance. We praised the beautiful scene. The Count's face lighted up withpatriotic pride. Yes; it was beautiful, beautiful, his own greenTyrol. He was proud of it and attached to it. But he could endureto sell this place, the home of his fathers, because he had a finerin the Salzkammergut, and a pied-à-terre near Innsbruck. For Tyrollacked just one joy--the sea. He was a passionate yachtsman. Forthat he had resolved to sell this estate; after all, three countryhouses, a ship, and a mansion in Vienna, are more than one man cancomfortably inhabit. "Exactly, " Charles answered. "If I can come to terms with you aboutthis charming estate I shall sell my own castle in the ScotchHighlands. " And he tried to look like a proud Scotch chief whoharangues his clansmen. Then they got to business. The Count was a delightful man to dobusiness with. His manners were perfect. While we were talking tohim, a surly person, a steward or bailiff, or something of the sort, came into the room unexpectedly and addressed him in German, whichnone of us understand. We were impressed by the singular urbanityand benignity of the nobleman's demeanour towards this sullendependant. He evidently explained to the fellow what sort ofpeople we were, and remonstrated with him in a very gentle way forinterrupting us. The steward understood, and clearly regretted hisinsolent air; for after a few sentences he went out, and as he didso he bowed and made protestations of polite regard in his ownlanguage. The Count turned to us and smiled. "Our people, " he said, "are like your own Scotch peasants--kind-hearted, picturesque, free, musical, poetic, but wanting, hélas, in polish to strangers. " Hewas certainly an exception, if he described them aright; for he madeus feel at home from the moment we entered. He named his price in frank terms. His lawyers at Meran held theneedful documents, and would arrange the negotiations in detail withus. It was a stiff sum, I must say--an extremely stiff sum; but nodoubt he was charging us a fancy price for a fancy castle. "He willcome down in time, " Charles said. "The sum first named in all thesetransactions is invariably a feeler. They know I'm a millionaire;and people always imagine millionaires are positively made ofmoney. " I may add that people always imagine it must be easier to squeezemoney out of millionaires than out of other people--which is thereverse of the truth, or how could they ever have amassed theirmillions? Instead of oozing gold as a tree oozes gum, they mop itup like blotting-paper, and seldom give it out again. We drove back from this first interview none the less very wellsatisfied. The price was too high; but preliminaries were arranged, and for the rest, the Count desired us to discuss all details withhis lawyers in the chief street, Unter den Lauben. We inquired aboutthese lawyers, and found they were most respectable and respectedmen; they had done the family business on either side for sevengenerations. They showed us plans and title-deeds. Everything quite en régle. Till we came to the price there was no hitch of any sort. As to price, however, the lawyers were obdurate. They stuck out forthe Count's first sum to the uttermost florin. It was a very bigestimate. We talked and shilly-shallied till Sir Charles grew angry. He lost his temper at last. "They know I'm a millionaire, Sey, " he said, "and they're playingthe old game of trying to diddle me. But I won't be diddled. ExceptColonel Clay, no man has ever yet succeeded in bleeding me. Andshall I let myself be bled as if I were a chamois among theseinnocent mountains? Perish the thought!" Then he reflected a littlein silence. "Sey, " he mused on, at last, "the question is, _are_they innocent? Do you know, I begin to believe there is no suchthing left as pristine innocence anywhere. This Tyrolese Count knowsthe value of a pound as distinctly as if he hung out in Capel Courtor Kimberley. " Things dragged on in this way, inconclusively, for a week or two. _We_ bid down; the lawyers stuck to it. Sir Charles grew half sickof the whole silly business. For my own part, I felt sure if thehigh well-born Count didn't quicken his pace, my respected relativewould shortly have had enough of the Tyrol altogether, and be proofagainst the most lovely of crag-crowning castles. But the Countdidn't see it. He came to call on us at our hotel--a rare honour fora stranger with these haughty and exclusive Tyrolese nobles--andeven entered unannounced in the most friendly manner. But when itcame to L. S. D. , he was absolute adamant. Not one kreutzer wouldhe abate from his original proposal. "You misunderstand, " he said, with pride. "We Tyrolese gentlemen arenot shopkeepers or merchants. We do not higgle. If we say a thing westick to it. Were you an Austrian, I should feel insulted by yourill-advised attempt to beat down my price. But as you belong to agreat commercial nation--" he broke off with a snort and shruggedhis shoulders compassionately. We saw him several times driving in and out of the schloss, andevery time he waved his hand at us gracefully. But when we tried tobargain, it was always the same thing: he retired behind the shelterof his Tyrolese nobility. We might take it or leave it. 'Twas stillSchloss Lebenstein. The lawyers were as bad. We tried all we knew, and got no forrarder. At last Charles gave up the attempt in disgust. He was tiring, as Iexpected. "It's the prettiest place I ever saw in my life, " he said;"but, hang it all, Sey, I _won't_ be imposed upon. " So he made up his mind, it being now December, to return to London. We met the Count next day, and stopped his carriage, and told himso. Charles thought this would have the immediate effect of bringingthe man to reason. But he only lifted his hat, with the blackcock'sfeather, and smiled a bland smile. "The Archduke Karl is inquiringabout it, " he answered, and drove on without parley. Charles used some strong words, which I will not transcribe (I am afamily man), and returned to England. For the next two months we heard little from Amelia save her regretthat the Count wouldn't sell us Schloss Lebenstein. Its pinnacleshad fairly pierced her heart. Strange to say, she was absolutelyinfatuated about the castle. She rather wanted the place whileshe was there, and thought she could get it; now she thoughtshe couldn't, her soul (if she has one) was wildly set upon it. Moreover, Césarine further inflamed her desire by gently hintinga fact which she had picked up at the courier's table d'hôte atthe hotel--that the Count had been far from anxious to sell hisancestral and historical estate to a South African diamond king. He thought the honour of the family demanded, at least, that heshould secure a wealthy buyer of good ancient lineage. One morning in February, however, Amelia returned from the Row allsmiles and tremors. (She had been ordered horse-exercise to correctthe increasing excessiveness of her figure. ) "Who do you think I saw riding in the Park?" she inquired. "Why, the Count of Lebenstein. " "No!" Charles exclaimed, incredulous. "Yes, " Amelia answered. "Must be mistaken, " Charles cried. But Amelia stuck to it. More than that, she sent out emissaries toinquire diligently from the London lawyers, whose name had beenmentioned to us by the ancestral firm in Unter den Lauben astheir English agents, as to the whereabouts of our friend; andher emissaries learned in effect that the Count was in town andstopping at Morley's. "I see through it, " Charles exclaimed. "He finds he's made amistake; and now he's come over here to reopen negotiations. " I was all for waiting prudently till the Count made the first move. "Don't let him see your eagerness, " I said. But Amelia's ardourcould not now be restrained. She insisted that Charles shouldcall on the Graf as a mere return of his politeness in the Tyrol. He was as charming as ever. He talked to us with delight about thequaintness of London. He would be ravished to dine next evening withSir Charles. He desired his respectful salutations meanwhile toMiladi Vandrift and Madame Ventvorth. He dined with us, almost en famille. Amelia's cook did wonders. Inthe billiard-room, about midnight, Charles reopened the subject. The Count was really touched. It pleased him that still, amid thedistractions of the City of Five Million Souls, we should rememberwith affection his beloved Lebenstein. "Come to my lawyers, " he said, "to-morrow, and I will talk it allover with you. " We went--a most respectable firm in Southampton Row; old familysolicitors. They had done business for years for the late Count, whohad inherited from his grandmother estates in Ireland; and they wereglad to be honoured with the confidence of his successor. Glad, too, to make the acquaintance of a prince of finance like Sir CharlesVandrift. Anxious (rubbing their hands) to arrange matterssatisfactorily all round for everybody. (Two capital families withwhich to be mixed up, you see. ) Sir Charles named a price, and referred them to his solicitors. The Count named a higher, but still a little come-down, and leftthe matter to be settled between the lawyers. He was a soldier anda gentleman, he said, with a Tyrolese toss of his high-born head;he would abandon details to men of business. As I was really anxious to oblige Amelia, I met the Countaccidentally next day on the steps of Morley's. (Accidentally, that is to say, so far as he was concerned, though I had beenhanging about in Trafalgar Square for half an hour to see him. )I explained, in guarded terms, that I had a great deal of influencein my way with Sir Charles; and that a word from me-- I brokeoff. He stared at me blankly. "Commission?" he inquired, at last, with a queer little smile. "Well, not exactly commission, " I answered, wincing. "Still, afriendly word, you know. One good turn deserves another. " He looked at me from head to foot with a curious scrutiny. For onemoment I feared the Tyrolese nobleman in him was going to raise itsfoot and take active measures. But the next, I saw that Sir Charleswas right after all, and that pristine innocence has removed fromthis planet to other quarters. He named his lowest price. "M. Ventvorth, " he said, "I am a Tyroleseseigneur; I do not dabble, myself, in commissions and percentages. But if your influence with Sir Charles--we understand each other, dowe not?--as between gentlemen--a little friendly present--no money, of course--but the equivalent of say 5 per cent in jewellery, onwhatever sum above his bid to-day you induce him tooffer--eh?--c'est convenu?" "Ten per cent is more usual, " I murmured. He was the Austrian hussar again. "Five, monsieur--or nothing!" I bowed and withdrew. "Well, five then, " I answered, "just to obligeyour Serenity. " A secretary, after all, can do a great deal. When it came to thescratch, I had but little difficulty in persuading Sir Charles, withAmelia's aid, backed up on either side by Isabel and Césarine, toaccede to the Count's more reasonable proposal. The Southampton Rowpeople had possession of certain facts as to the value of the winesin the Bordeaux market which clinched the matter. In a week or twoall was settled; Charles and I met the Count by appointment inSouthampton Row, and saw him sign, seal, and deliver the title-deedsof Schloss Lebenstein. My brother-in-law paid the purchase-moneyinto the Count's own hands, by cheque, crossed on a first-classLondon firm where the Count kept an account to his high well-bornorder. Then he went away with the proud knowledge that he was ownerof Schloss Lebenstein. And what to me was more important still, I received next morning by post a cheque for the five per cent, unfortunately drawn, by some misapprehension, to my order on theself-same bankers, and with the Count's signature. He explained inthe accompanying note that the matter being now quite satisfactorilyconcluded, he saw no reason of delicacy why the amount he hadpromised should not be paid to me forthwith direct in money. I cashed the cheque at once, and said nothing about the affair, noteven to Isabel. My experience is that women are not to be trustedwith intricate matters of commission and brokerage. Though it was now late in March, and the House was sitting, Charlesinsisted that we must all run over at once to take possession of ourmagnificent Tyrolese castle. Amelia was almost equally burning witheagerness. She gave herself the airs of a Countess already. We tookthe Orient Express as far as Munich; then the Brenner to Meran, and put up for the night at the Erzherzog Johann. Though we hadtelegraphed our arrival, and expected some fuss, there was nodemonstration. Next morning we drove out in state to the schloss, to enter into enjoyment of our vines and fig-trees. We were met at the door by the surly steward. "I shall dismissthat man, " Charles muttered, as Lord of Lebenstein. "He's toosour-looking for my taste. Never saw such a brute. Not a smileof welcome!" He mounted the steps. The surly man stepped forward and murmured afew morose words in German. Charles brushed him aside and strode on. Then there followed a curious scene of mutual misunderstanding. Thesurly man called lustily for his servants to eject us. It was sometime before we began to catch at the truth. The surly man was the_real_ Graf von Lebenstein. And the Count with the moustache? It dawned upon us now. ColonelClay again! More audacious than ever! Bit by bit it all came out. He had ridden behind us the first daywe viewed the place, and, giving himself out to the servants asone of our party, had joined us in the reception-room. We askedthe real Count why he had spoken to the intruder. The Countexplained in French that the man with the moustache had introducedmy brother-in-law as the great South African millionaire, while hedescribed himself as our courier and interpreter. As such he hadhad frequent interviews with the real Graf and his lawyers inMeran, and had driven almost daily across to the castle. The ownerof the estate had named one price from the first, and had stuck toit manfully. He stuck to it still; and if Sir Charles chose to buySchloss Lebenstein over again he was welcome to have it. How theLondon lawyers had been duped the Count had not really the slightestidea. He regretted the incident, and (coldly) wished us a very goodmorning. There was nothing for it but to return as best we might to theErzherzog Johann, crestfallen, and telegraph particulars to thepolice in London. Charles and I ran across post-haste to England to track down thevillain. At Southampton Row we found the legal firm by no meanspenitent; on the contrary, they were indignant at the way we haddeceived them. An impostor had written to them on Lebensteinpaper from Meran to say that he was coming to London to negotiatethe sale of the schloss and surrounding property with thefamous millionaire, Sir Charles Vandrift; and Sir Charles haddemonstratively recognised him at sight as the real Count vonLebenstein. The firm had never seen the present Graf at all, andhad swallowed the impostor whole, so to speak, on the strength ofSir Charles's obvious recognition. He had brought over as documentssome most excellent forgeries--facsimiles of the originals--which, as our courier and interpreter, he had every opportunity ofexamining and inspecting at the Meran lawyers'. It was a deeply-laidplot, and it had succeeded to a marvel. Yet, all of it dependedupon the one small fact that we had accepted the man with the longmoustache in the hall of the schloss as the Count von Lebenstein onhis own representation. He held our cards in his hands when he came in; and the servant had_not_ given them to him, but to the genuine Count. That was the oneunsolved mystery in the whole adventure. By the evening's post two letters arrived for us at Sir Charles'shouse: one for myself, and one for my employer. Sir Charles's ranthus:-- "HIGH WELL-BORN INCOMPETENCE, -- "I only just pulled through! A very small slip nearly lost meeverything. I believed you were going to Schloss Planta that day, not to Schloss Lebenstein. You changed your mind en route. Thatmight have spoiled all. Happily I perceived it, rode up by the shortcut, and arrived somewhat hurriedly and hotly at the gate beforeyou. Then I introduced myself. I had one more bad moment when therival claimant to my name and title intruded into the room. Butfortune favours the brave: your utter ignorance of German saved me. The rest was pap. It went by itself almost. "Allow me, now, as some small return for your various welcomecheques, to offer you a useful and valuable present--a Germandictionary, grammar, and phrase-book! "I kiss your hand. "No longer "VON LEBENSTEIN. " The other note was to me. It was as follows:-- "DEAR GOOD MR. VENTVORTH, -- "Ha, ha, ha; just a W misplaced sufficed to take you in, then! AndI risked the TH, though anybody with a head on his shoulders wouldsurely have known our TH is by far more difficult than our W forforeigners! However, all's well that ends well; and now I've gotyou. The Lord has delivered you into my hands, dear friend--on yourown initiative. I hold my cheque, endorsed by you, and cashed at mybanker's, as a hostage, so to speak, for your future good behaviour. If ever you recognise me, and betray me to that solemn old ass, youremployer, remember, I expose it, and you with it to him. So now weunderstand each other. I had not thought of this little dodge; itwas you who suggested it. However, I jumped at it. Was it not wellworth my while paying you that slight commission in return for aguarantee of your future silence? Your mouth is now closed. Andcheap too at the price. --Yours, dear Comrade, in the greatconfraternity of rogues, "CUTHBERT CLAY, Colonel. " Charles laid his note down, and grizzled. "What's yours, Sey?"he asked. "From a lady, " I answered. He gazed at me suspiciously. "Oh, I thought it was the same hand, "he said. His eye looked through me. "No, " I answered. "Mrs. Mortimer's. " But I confess I trembled. He paused a moment. "You made all inquiries at this fellow's bank?"he went on, after a deep sigh. "Oh, yes, " I put in quickly. (I had taken good care about that, you may be sure, lest he should spot the commission. ) "They saythe self-styled Count von Lebenstein was introduced to them bythe Southampton Row folks, and drew, as usual, on the Lebensteinaccount: so they were quite unsuspicious. A rascal who goes aboutthe world on that scale, you know, and arrives with such credentialsas theirs and yours, naturally imposes on anybody. The bank didn'teven require to have him formally identified. The firm was enough. He came to pay money in, not to draw it out. And he withdrew hisbalance just two days later, saying he was in a hurry to get backto Vienna. " Would he ask for items? I confess I felt it was an awkward moment. Charles, however, was too full of regrets to bother about theaccount. He leaned back in his easy chair, stuck his hands in hispockets, held his legs straight out on the fender before him, andlooked the very picture of hopeless despondency. "Sey, " he began, after a minute or two, poking the fire, reflectively, "what a genius that man has! 'Pon my soul, Iadmire him. I sometimes wish--" He broke off and hesitated. "Yes, Charles?" I answered. "I sometimes wish . . . We had got him on the Board of the CloetedorpGolcondas. Mag--nificent combinations he would make in the City!" I rose from my seat and stared solemnly at my misguidedbrother-in-law. "Charles, " I said, "you are beside yourself. Too much Colonel Clayhas told upon your clear and splendid intellect. There are certainremarks which, however true they may be, no self-respectingfinancier should permit himself to make, even in the privacy ofhis own room, to his most intimate friend and trusted adviser. " Charles fairly broke down. "You are right, Sey, " he sobbed out. "Quite right. Forgive this outburst. At moments of emotion thetruth will sometimes out, in spite of everything. " I respected his feebleness. I did not even make it a fittingoccasion to ask for a trifling increase of salary. V THE EPISODE OF THE DRAWN GAME The twelfth of August saw us, as usual, at Seldon Castle, Ross-shire. It is part of Charles's restless, roving temperamentthat, on the morning of the eleventh, wet or fine, he must set outfrom London, whether the House is sitting or not, in defiance ofthe most urgent three-line whips; and at dawn on the twelfth he mustbe at work on his moors, shooting down the young birds with mightand main, at the earliest possible legal moment. He goes on like Saul, slaying his thousands, or, like David, histens of thousands, with all the guns in the house to help him, tillthe keepers warn him he has killed as many grouse as they considerdesirable; and then, having done his duty, as he thinks, in thisrespect, he retires precipitately with flying colours to Brighton, Nice, Monte Carlo, or elsewhere. He must be always "on the trek";when he is buried, I believe he will not be able to rest quiet inhis grave: his ghost will walk the world to terrify old ladies. "At Seldon, at least, " he said to me, with a sigh, as he steppedinto his Pullman, "I shall be safe from that impostor!" And indeed, as soon as he had begun to tire a little of countingup his hundreds of brace per diem, he found a trifling piece offinancial work cut ready to his hand, which amply distracted hismind for the moment from Colonel Clay, his accomplices, and hisvillainies. Sir Charles, I ought to say, had secured during that summer a veryadvantageous option in a part of Africa on the Transvaal frontier, rumoured to be auriferous. Now, whether it was auriferous or notbefore, the mere fact that Charles had secured some claim on itnaturally made it so; for no man had ever the genuine Midas-touchto a greater degree than Charles Vandrift: whatever he handles turnsat once to gold, if not to diamonds. Therefore, as soon as mybrother-in-law had obtained this option from the native vendor (amost respected chief, by name Montsioa), and promoted a companyof his own to develop it, his great rival in that region, LordCraig-Ellachie (formerly Sir David Alexander Granton), immediatelysecured a similar option of an adjacent track, the larger part ofwhich had pretty much the same geological conditions as that coveredby Sir Charles's right of pre-emption. We were not wholly disappointed, as it turned out, in the result. A month or two later, while we were still at Seldon, we receiveda long and encouraging letter from our prospectors on the spot, who had been hunting over the ground in search of gold-reefs. Theyreported that they had found a good auriferous vein in a corner ofthe tract, approachable by adit-levels; but, unfortunately, only afew yards of the lode lay within the limits of Sir Charles's area. The remainder ran on at once into what was locally known asCraig-Ellachie's section. However, our prospectors had been canny, they said; though youngMr. Granton was prospecting at the same time, in the self-sameridge, not very far from them, his miners had failed to discoverthe auriferous quartz; so our men had held their tongues about it, wisely leaving it for Charles to govern himself accordingly. "Can you dispute the boundary?" I asked. "Impossible, " Charles answered. "You see, the limit is a meridianof longitude. There's no getting over that. Can't pretend to denyit. No buying over the sun! No bribing the instruments! Besides, we drew the line ourselves. We've only one way out of it, Sey. Amalgamate! Amalgamate!" Charles is a marvellous man! The very voice in which he murmuredthat blessed word "Amalgamate!" was in itself a poem. "Capital!" I answered. "Say nothing about it, and join forces withCraig-Ellachie. " Charles closed one eye pensively. That very same evening came a telegram in cipher from our chiefengineer on the territory of the option: "Young Granton has somehowgiven us the slip and gone home. We suspect he knows all. But wehave not divulged the secret to anybody. " "Seymour, " my brother-in-law said impressively, "there is no time tobe lost. I must write this evening to Sir David--I mean to My Lord. Do you happen to know where he is stopping at present?" "The Morning Post announced two or three days ago that he was atGlen-Ellachie, " I answered. "Then I'll ask him to come over and thrash the matter out with me, "my brother-in-law went on. "A very rich reef, they say. I must havemy finger in it!" We adjourned into the study, where Sir Charles drafted, I mustadmit, a most judicious letter to the rival capitalist. He pointedout that the mineral resources of the country were probably great, but as yet uncertain. That the expense of crushing and milling mightbe almost prohibitive. That access to fuel was costly, and itsconveyance difficult. That water was scarce, and commanded by oursection. That two rival companies, if they happened to hit upon ore, might cut one another's throats by erecting two sets of furnaces orpumping plants, and bringing two separate streams to the spot, where one would answer. In short--to employ the golden word--thatamalgamation might prove better in the end than competition; andthat he advised, at least, a conference on the subject. I wrote it out fair for him, and Sir Charles, with the air of aCromwell, signed it. "This is important, Sey, " he said. "It had better be registered, for fear of falling into improper hands. Don't give it to Dobson;let Césarine take it over to Fowlis in the dog-cart. " It is the drawback of Seldon that we are twelve miles from arailway station, though we look out on one of the loveliest firthsin Scotland. Césarine took it as directed--an invaluable servant, that girl!Meanwhile, we learned from the Morning Post next day that youngMr. Granton had stolen a march upon us. He had arrived from Africaby the same mail with our agent's letter, and had joined his fatherat once at Glen-Ellachie. Two days later we received a most polite reply from the opposinginterest. It ran after this fashion:-- "CRAIG-ELLACHIE LODGE, "GLEN-ELLACHIE, INVERNESS-SHIRE. "DEAR SIR CHARLES VANDRIFT--Thanks for yours of the 20th. In reply, I can only say I fully reciprocate your amiable desire that nothingadverse to either of our companies should happen in South Africa. With regard to your suggestion that we should meet in person, todiscuss the basis of a possible amalgamation, I can only say myhouse is at present full of guests--as is doubtless your own--andI should therefore find it practically impossible to leaveGlen-Ellachie. Fortunately, however, my son David is now at homeon a brief holiday from Kimberley; and it will give him greatpleasure to come over and hear what you have to say in favour of anarrangement which certainly, on some grounds, seems to me desirablein the interests of both our concessions alike. He will arriveto-morrow afternoon at Seldon, and he is authorised, in everyrespect, to negotiate with full powers on behalf of myself and theother directors. With kindest regards to your wife and sons, Iremain, dear Sir Charles, yours faithfully, "CRAIG-ELLACHIE. " "Cunning old fox!" Sir Charles exclaimed, with a sniff. "What's heup to now, I wonder? Seems almost as anxious to amalgamate as weourselves are, Sey. " A sudden thought struck him. "Do you know, "he cried, looking up, "I really believe the same thing must havehappened to _both_ our exploring parties. _They_ must have found areef that goes under _our_ ground, and the wicked old rascal wantsto cheat us out of it!" "As we want to cheat him, " I ventured to interpose. Charles looked at me fixedly. "Well, if so, we're both in luck, "he murmured, after a pause; "though _we_ can only get to know thewhereabouts of _their_ find by joining hands with them and showingthem ours. Still, it's good business either way. But I shall becautious--cautious. " "What a nuisance!" Amelia cried, when we told her of the incident. "I suppose I shall have to put the man up for the night--a nasty, raw-boned, half-baked Scotchman, you may be certain. " On Wednesday afternoon, about three, young Granton arrived. He wasa pleasant-featured, red-haired, sandy-whiskered youth, not unlikehis father; but, strange to say, he dropped in to call, instead ofbringing his luggage. "Why, you're not going back to Glen-Ellachie to-night, surely?"Charles exclaimed, in amazement. "Lady Vandrift will be _so_disappointed! Besides, this business can't be arranged betweentwo trains, do you think, Mr. Granton?" Young Granton smiled. He had an agreeable smile--canny, yet open. "Oh no, " he said frankly. "I didn't mean to go back. I've put up atthe inn. I have my wife with me, you know--and, I wasn't invited. " Amelia was of opinion, when we told her this episode, that DavidGranton wouldn't stop at Seldon because he was an Honourable. Isabel was of opinion he wouldn't stop because he had married anunpresentable young woman somewhere out in South Africa. Charles wasof opinion that, as representative of the hostile interest, he putup at the inn, because it might tie his hands in some way to be theguest of the chairman of the rival company. And _I_ was of opinionthat he had heard of the castle, and knew it well by report as thedullest country-house to stay at in Scotland. However that may be, young Granton insisted on remaining at theCromarty Arms, though he told us his wife would be delighted toreceive a call from Lady Vandrift and Mrs. Wentworth. So we allreturned with him to bring the Honourable Mrs. Granton up to teaat the Castle. She was a nice little thing, very shy and timid, but by no meansunpresentable, and an evident lady. She giggled at the end of everysentence; and she was endowed with a slight squint, which somehowseemed to point all her feeble sallies. She knew little outsideSouth Africa; but of that she talked prettily; and she won allour hearts, in spite of the cast in her eye, by her unaffectedsimplicity. Next morning Charles and I had a regular debate with young Grantonabout the rival options. Our talk was of cyanide processes, reverberatories, pennyweights, water-jackets. But it dawned upon ussoon that, in spite of his red hair and his innocent manners, ourfriend, the Honourable David Granton, knew a thing or two. Graduallyand gracefully he let us see that Lord Craig-Ellachie had sent himfor the benefit of the company, but that _he_ had come for thebenefit of the Honourable David Granton. "I'm a younger son, Sir Charles, " he said; "and therefore I have tofeather my nest for myself. I know the ground. My father will beguided implicitly by what I advise in the matter. We are men of theworld. Now, let's be business-like. _You_ want to amalgamate. Youwouldn't do that, of course, if you didn't know of something to theadvantage of my father's company--say, a lode on our land--which youhope to secure for yourself by amalgamation. Very well; _I_ can makeor mar your project. If you choose to render it worth my while, I'llinduce my father and his directors to amalgamate. If you don't, Iwon't. That's the long and the short of it!" Charles looked at him admiringly. "Young man, " he said, "you're deep, very deep--for your age. Is thiscandour--or deception? Do you mean what you say? Or do you know somereason why it suits your father's book to amalgamate as well as itsuits mine? And are you trying to keep it from me?" He fingered hischin. "If I only knew that, " he went on, "I should know how to dealwith you. " Young Granton smiled again. "You're a financier, Sir Charles, " heanswered. "I wonder, at your time of life, you should pause to askanother financier whether he's trying to fill his own pocket--or hisfather's. Whatever is my father's goes to his eldest son--and _I_ amhis youngest. " "You are right as to general principles, " Sir Charles replied, quiteaffectionately. "Most sound and sensible. But how do I know youhaven't bargained already in the same way with your father? Youmay have settled with _him_, and be trying to diddle me. " The young man assumed a most candid air. "Look here, " he said, leaning forward. "I offer you this chance. Take it or leave it. _Do_you wish to purchase my aid for this amalgamation by a moderatecommission on the net value of my father's option to yourself--whichI know approximately?" "Say five per cent, " I suggested, in a tentative voice, just tojustify my presence. He looked me through and through. "_Ten_ is more usual, " heanswered, in a peculiar tone and with a peculiar glance. Great heavens, how I winced! I knew what his words meant. They werethe very words I had said myself to Colonel Clay, as the Count vonLebenstein, about the purchase-money of the schloss--and in the verysame accent. I saw through it all now. That beastly cheque! Thiswas Colonel Clay; and he was trying to buy up my silence andassistance by the threat of exposure! My blood ran cold. I didn't know how to answer him. What happenedat the rest of that interview I really couldn't tell you. My brainreeled round. I heard just faint echoes of "fuel" and "reductionworks. " What on earth was I to do? If I told Charles mysuspicion--for it was only a suspicion--the fellow might turn uponme and disclose the cheque, which would suffice to ruin me. If Ididn't, I ran a risk of being considered by Charles an accompliceand a confederate. The interview was long. I hardly know how I struggled through it. At the end young Granton went off, well satisfied, if it was youngGranton; and Amelia invited him and his wife up to dinner at thecastle. Whatever else they were, they were capital company. They stoppedfor three days more at the Cromarty Arms. And Charles debated anddiscussed incessantly. He couldn't quite make up his mind what todo in the affair; and _I_ certainly couldn't help him. I never wasplaced in such a fix in my life. I did my best to preserve a strictneutrality. Young Granton, it turned out, was a most agreeable person; and so, in her way, was that timid, unpretending South African wife of his. She was naively surprised Amelia had never met her mamma at Durban. They both talked delightfully, and had lots of good stories--mostlywith points that told against the Craig-Ellachie people. Moreover, the Honourable David was a splendid swimmer. He went out in a boatwith us, and dived like a seal. He was burning to teach Charlesand myself to swim, when we told him we could neither of us take asingle stroke; he said it was an accomplishment incumbent upon everytrue Englishman. But Charles hates the water; while, as for myself, I detest every known form of muscular exercise. However, we consented that he should row us on the Firth, and madean appointment one day with himself and his wife for four the nextevening. That night Charles came to me with a very grave face in my ownbedroom. "Sey, " he said, under his breath, "have you observed?Have you watched? Have you any suspicions?" I trembled violently. I felt all was up. "Suspicions of whom?"I asked. "Not surely of Simpson?" (he was Sir Charles's valet). My respected brother-in-law looked at me contemptuously. "Sey, " he said, "are you trying to take me in? No, _not_ of Simpson:of these two young folks. My own belief is--they're Colonel Clayand Madame Picardet. " "Impossible!" I cried. He nodded. "I'm sure of it. " "How do you know?" "Instinctively. " I seized his arm. "Charles, " I said, imploring him, "do nothingrash. Remember how you exposed yourself to the ridicule of foolsover Dr. Polperro!" "I've thought of that, " he answered, "and I mean to ca' caller. "(When in Scotland as laird of Seldon, Charles loves both to dressand to speak the part thoroughly. ) "First thing to-morrow I shalltelegraph over to inquire at Glen-Ellachie; I shall find outwhether this is really young Granton or not; meanwhile, I shall keepmy eye close upon the fellow. " Early next morning, accordingly, a groom was dispatched with atelegram to Lord Craig-Ellachie. He was to ride over to Fowlis, sendit off at once, and wait for the answer. At the same time, as it wasprobable Lord Craig-Ellachie would have started for the moors beforethe telegram reached the Lodge, I did not myself expect to see thereply arrive much before seven or eight that evening. Meanwhile, asit was far from certain we had not the real David Granton to dealwith, it was necessary to be polite to our friendly rivals. Ourexperience in the Polperro incident had shown us both that too muchzeal may be more dangerous than too little. Nevertheless, taughtby previous misfortunes, we kept watching our man pretty close, determined that on this occasion, at least, he should neither do usnor yet escape us. About four o'clock the red-haired young man and his pretty littlewife came up to call for us. She looked so charming and squintedso enchantingly, one could hardly believe she was not as simpleand innocent as she seemed to be. She tripped down to the Seldonboat-house, with Charles by her side, giggling and squinting herbest, and then helped her husband to get the skiff ready. As she didso, Charles sidled up to me. "Sey, " he whispered, "I'm an old hand, and I'm not readily taken in. I've been talking to that girl, andupon my soul I think she's all right. She's a charming little lady. We may be mistaken after all, of course, about young Granton. In anycase, it's well for the present to be courteous. A most importantoption! If it's really he, we must do nothing to annoy him or lethim see we suspect him. " I had noticed, indeed, that Mrs. Granton had made herself mostagreeable to Charles from the very beginning. And as to one thing hewas right. In her timid, shrinking way she was undeniably charming. That cast in her eye was all pure piquancy. We rowed out on to the Firth, or, to be more strictly correct, thetwo Grantons rowed while Charles and I sat and leaned back in thestern on the luxurious cushions. They rowed fast and well. In a veryfew minutes they had rounded the point and got clear out of sightof the Cockneyfied towers and false battlements of Seldon. Mrs. Granton pulled stroke. Even as she rowed she kept up a briskundercurrent of timid chaff with Sir Charles, giggling all thewhile, half forward, half shy, like a school-girl who flirts witha man old enough to be her grandfather. Sir Charles was flattered. He is susceptible to the pleasures offemale attention, especially from the young, the simple, and theinnocent. The wiles of women of the world he knows too well; but apretty little ingénue can twist him round her finger. They rowed onand on, till they drew abreast of Seamew's island. It is a jaggedstack or skerry, well out to sea, very wild and precipitous on thelandward side, but shelving gently outward; perhaps an acre inextent, with steep gray cliffs, covered at that time with crimsonmasses of red valerian. Mrs. Granton rowed up close to it. "Oh, whatlovely flowers!" she cried, throwing her head back and gazing atthem. "I wish I could get some! Let's land here and pick them. SirCharles, you shall gather me a nice bunch for my sitting-room. " Charles rose to it innocently, like a trout to a fly. "By all means, my dear child, I--I have a passion for flowers;"which was a flower of speech itself, but it served its purpose. They rowed us round to the far side, where is the easiestlanding-place. It struck me as odd at the moment that they seemedto know it. Then young Granton jumped lightly ashore; Mrs. Grantonskipped after him. I confess it made me feel rather ashamed to seehow clumsily Charles and I followed them, treading gingerly on thethwarts for fear of upsetting the boat, while the artless youngthing just flew over the gunwale. So like White Heather! However, we got ashore at last in safety, and began to climb the rocks aswell as we were able in search of the valerian. Judge of our astonishment when next moment those two young peoplebounded back into the boat, pushed off with a peal of merrylaughter, and left us there staring at them! They rowed away, about twenty yards, into deep water. Then the manturned, and waved his hand at us gracefully. "Good-bye!" he said, "good-bye! Hope you'll pick a nice bunch! We're off to London!" "Off!" Charles exclaimed, turning pale. "Off! What do you mean?You don't surely mean to say you're going to leave us here?" The young man raised his cap with perfect politeness, while Mrs. Granton smiled, nodded, and kissed her pretty hand to us. "Yes, "he answered; "for the present. We retire from the game. The factof it is, it's a trifle too thin: this is a coup manqué. " "A _what_?" Charles exclaimed, perspiring visibly. "A coup manqué, " the young man replied, with a compassionate smile. "A failure, don't you know; a bad shot; a fiasco. I learn frommy scouts that you sent a telegram by special messenger to LordCraig-Ellachie this morning. That shows you suspect me. Now, it is aprinciple of my system never to go on for one move with a game whenI find myself suspected. The slightest symptom of distrust, and--Iback out immediately. My plans can only be worked to satisfactionwhen there is perfect confidence on the part of my patient. It isa well-known rule of the medical profession. I _never_ try to bleeda man who struggles. So now we're off. Ta-ta! Good luck to you!" He was not much more than twenty yards away, and could talk to usquite easily. But the water was deep; the islet rose sheer from I'msure I don't know how many fathoms of sea; and we could neither ofus swim. Charles stretched out his arms imploringly. "For Heaven'ssake, " he cried, "don't tell me you really mean to leave us here. " He looked so comical in his distress and terror that Mrs. Granton--Madame Picardet--whatever I am to call her--laughedmelodiously in her prettiest way at the sight of him. "Dear SirCharles, " she called out, "pray don't be afraid! It's only ashort and temporary imprisonment. We will send men to take you off. Dear David and I only need just time enough to get well ashore andmake--oh!--a few slight alterations in our personal appearance. "And she indicated with her hand, laughing, dear David's red wig andfalse sandy whiskers, as we felt convinced they must be now. Shelooked at them and tittered. Her manner at this moment was anythingbut shy. In fact, I will venture to say, it was that of a bold andbrazen-faced hoyden. "Then you _are_ Colonel Clay!" Sir Charles cried, mopping his browwith his handkerchief. "If you choose to call me so, " the young man answered politely. "I'msure it's most kind of you to supply me with a commission in HerMajesty's service. However, time presses, and we want to push off. Don't alarm yourselves unnecessarily. I will send a boat to take youaway from this rock at the earliest possible moment consistent withmy personal safety and my dear companion's. " He laid his hand on hisheart and struck a sentimental attitude. "I have received too manyunwilling kindnesses at your hands, Sir Charles, " he continued, "not to feel how wrong it would be of me to inconvenience you fornothing. Rest assured that you shall be rescued by midnight atlatest. Fortunately, the weather just at present is warm, and I seeno chance of rain; so you will suffer, if at all, from nothing worsethan the pangs of temporary hunger. " Mrs. Granton, no longer squinting--'twas a mere trick she hadassumed--rose up in the boat and stretched out a rug to us. "Catch!"she cried, in a merry voice, and flung it at us, doubled. It fellat our feet; she was a capital thrower. "Now, you dear Sir Charles, " she went on, "take that to keep youwarm! You know I am really quite fond of you. You're not half abad old boy when one takes you the right way. You have a human sideto you. Why, I often wear that sweetly pretty brooch you gave meat Nice, when I was Madame Picardet! And I'm sure your goodness tome at Lucerne, when I was the little curate's wife, is a thing toremember. We're so glad to have seen you in your lovely Scotchhome you were always so proud of! _Don't_ be frightened, please. Wewouldn't hurt you for worlds. We _are_ so sorry we have to take thisinhospitable means of evading you. But dear David--I _must_ callhim dear David still--instinctively felt that you were beginning tosuspect us; and he can't bear mistrust. He _is_ so sensitive! Themoment people mistrust him, he _must_ break off with them at once. This was the only way to get you both off our hands while we makethe needful little arrangements to depart; and we've been driven toavail ourselves of it. However, I will give you my word of honour, as a lady, you shall be fetched away to-night. If dear David doesn'tdo it, why, I'll do it myself. " And she blew another kiss to us. Charles was half beside himself, divided between alternate terrorand anger. "Oh, we shall die here!" he exclaimed. "Nobody'd everdream of coming to this rock to search for me. " "What a pity you didn't let me teach you to swim!" Colonel Clayinterposed. "It is a noble exercise, and very useful indeed in suchspecial emergencies! Well, ta-ta! I'm off! You nearly scored onethis time; but, by putting you here for the moment, and keeping youtill we're gone, I venture to say I've redressed the board, and Ithink we may count it a drawn game, mayn't we? The match stands atthree, love--with some thousands in pocket?" "You're a murderer, sir!" Charles shrieked out. "We shall starve ordie here!" Colonel Clay on his side was all sweet reasonableness. "Now, my dearsir, " he expostulated, one hand held palm outward, "_Do_ you thinkit probable I would kill the goose that lays the golden eggs, withso little compunction? No, no, Sir Charles Vandrift; I know too wellhow much you are worth to me. I return you on my income-tax paperas five thousand a year, clear profit of my profession. Suppose youwere to die! I might be compelled to find some new and far lesslucrative source of plunder. Your heirs, executors, or assigneesmight not suit my purpose. The fact of it is, sir, your temperamentand mine are exactly adapted one to the other. _I_ understand _you_;and _you_ do not understand _me_--which is often the basis of thefirmest friendships. I can catch you just where you are trying tocatch other people. Your very smartness assists me; for I admit you_are_ smart. As a regular financier, I allow, I couldn't hold acandle to you. But in my humbler walk of life I know just how toutilise you. I lead you on, where you think you are going to gain someadvantage over others; and by dexterously playing upon your love ofa good bargain, your innate desire to best somebody else--I succeedin besting you. There, sir, you have the philosophy of our mutualrelations. " He bowed and raised his cap. Charles looked at him and cowered. Yes, genius as he is, he positively cowered. "And do you mean to say, "he burst out, "you intend to go on so bleeding me?" The Colonel smiled a bland smile. "Sir Charles Vandrift, " heanswered, "I called you just now the goose that lays the goldeneggs. You may have thought the metaphor a rude one. But you _are_a goose, you know, in certain relations. Smartest man on the StockExchange, I readily admit; easiest fool to bamboozle in theopen country that ever I met with. You fail in one thing--theperspicacity of simplicity. For that reason, among others, I havechosen to fasten upon you. Regard me, my dear sir, as a microbe ofmillionaires, a parasite upon capitalists. You know the old rhyme: Great fleas have little fleas upon their backs to bite 'em, And these again have lesser fleas, and so ad infinitum! Well, that's just how I view myself. _You_ are a capitalist and amillionaire. In _your_ large way you prey upon society. YOU deal inCorners, Options, Concessions, Syndicates. You drain the worlddry of its blood and its money. You possess, like the mosquito, abeautiful instrument of suction--Founders' Shares--with which youabsorb the surplus wealth of the community. In _my_ smaller way, again, _I_ relieve you in turn of a portion of the plunder. I am aRobin Hood of my age; and, looking upon _you_ as an exceptionally badform of millionaire--as well as an exceptionally easy form of pigeonfor a man of my type and talents to pluck--I have, so to speak, taken up my abode upon you. " Charles looked at him and groaned. The young man continued, in a tone of gentle badinage. "I love theplot-interest of the game, " he said, "and so does dear Jessie here. We both of us adore it. As long as I find such good pickings uponyou, I certainly am not going to turn away from so valuable acarcass, in order to batten myself, at considerable trouble, uponminor capitalists, out of whom it is difficult to extract a fewhundreds. It may have puzzled you to guess why I fix upon you sopersistently. Now you know, and understand. When a fluke finds asheep that suits him, that fluke lives upon him. You are my host: Iam your parasite. This coup has failed. But don't flatter yourselffor a moment it will be the last one. " "Why do you insult me by telling me all this?" Sir Charles cried, writhing. The Colonel waved his hand. It was small and white. "Because I _love_the game, " he answered, with a relish; "and also, because the moreprepared you are beforehand, the greater credit and amusement isthere in besting you. Well, now, ta-ta once more! I am wastingvaluable time. I might be cheating somebody. I must be off atonce. . . . Take care of yourself, Wentworth. But I know you _will_. You always do. Ten per cent _is_ more usual!" He rowed away and left us. As the boat began to disappear round thecorner of the island, White Heather--so she looked--stood up in thestern and shouted aloud through her pretty hands to us. "By-bye, dear Sir Charles!" she cried. "Do wrap the rug around you! I'llsend the men to fetch you as soon as ever I possibly can. And thankyou so much for those lovely flowers!" The boat rounded the crags. We were alone on the island. Charlesflung himself on the bare rock in a wild access of despondency. He is accustomed to luxury, and cannot get on without his paddedcushions. As for myself, I climbed with some difficulty to the topof the cliff, landward, and tried to make signals of distress withmy handkerchief to some passer-by on the mainland. All in vain. Charles had dismissed the crofters on the estate; and, as theshooting-party that day was in an opposite direction, not a soulwas near to whom we could call for succour. I climbed down again to Charles. The evening came on slowly. Criesof sea-birds rang weird upon the water. Puffins and cormorantscircled round our heads in the gray of twilight. Charles suggestedthat they might even swoop down upon us and bite us. They did not, however, but their flapping wings added none the less a painfultouch of eeriness to our hunger and solitude. Charles was horriblydepressed. For myself, I will confess I felt so much relieved atthe fact that Colonel Clay had not openly betrayed me in the matterof the commission, as to be comparatively comfortable. We crouched on the hard crag. About eleven o'clock we heard humanvoices. "Boat ahoy!" I shouted. An answering shout aroused us toaction. We rushed down to the landing-place and cooee'd for the men, to show them where we were. They came up at once in Sir Charles'sown boat. They were fishermen from Niggarey, on the shore of theFirth opposite. A lady and gentleman had sent them, they said, to return the boatand call for us on the island; their description corresponded tothe two supposed Grantons. They rowed us home almost in silence toSeldon. It was half-past twelve by the gatehouse clock when wereached the castle. Men had been sent along the coast each way toseek us. Amelia had gone to bed, much alarmed for our safety. Isabelwas sitting up. It was too late, of course, to do much that night inthe way of apprehending the miscreants, though Charles insisted upondispatching a groom, with a telegram for the police at Inverness, to Fowlis. Nothing came of it all. A message awaited us from LordCraig-Ellachie, to be sure, saying that his son had not leftGlen-Ellachie Lodge; while research the next day and later showedthat our correspondent had never even received our letter. An emptyenvelope alone had arrived at the house, and the postal authoritieshad been engaged meanwhile, with their usual lightning speed, in"investigating the matter. " Césarine had posted the letter herselfat Fowlis, and brought back the receipt; so the only conclusion wecould draw was this--Colonel Clay must be in league with somebodyat the post-office. As for Lord Craig-Ellachie's reply, that was asimple forgery; though, oddly enough, it was written onGlen-Ellachie paper. However, by the time Charles had eaten a couple of grouse, anddrunk a bottle of his excellent Rudesheimer, his spirits and valourrevived exceedingly. Doubtless he inherits from his Boer ancestry atendency towards courage of the Batavian description. He was incapital feather. "After all, Sey, " he said, leaning back in his chair, "this timewe score one. He has _not_ done us brown; we have at least detectedhim. To detect him in time is half-way to catching him. Only theremoteness of our position at Seldon Castle saved him from capture. Next set-to, I feel sure, we will not merely spot him, we will alsonab him. I only wish he would try on such a rig in London. " But the oddest part of it all was this, that from the moment thosetwo people landed at Niggarey, and told the fishermen there weresome gentlemen stranded on the Seamew's island, all trace of themvanished. At no station along the line could we gain any news ofthem. Their maid had left the inn the same morning with theirluggage, and we tracked her to Inverness; but there the trailstopped short, no spoor lay farther. It was a most singular andinsoluble mystery. Charles lived in hopes of catching his man in London. But for my part, I felt there was a show of reason in one lasttaunt which the rascal flung back at us as the boat receded: "SirCharles Vandrift, we are a pair of rogues. The law protects _you_. It persecutes _me_. That's all the difference. " VI THE EPISODE OF THE GERMAN PROFESSOR That winter in town my respected brother-in-law had little timeon his hands to bother himself about trifles like Colonel Clay. A thunderclap burst upon him. He saw his chief interest in SouthAfrica threatened by a serious, an unexpected, and a crushingdanger. Charles does a little in gold, and a little in land; but hisprincipal operations have always lain in the direction of diamonds. Only once in my life, indeed, have I seen him pay the slightestattention to poetry, and that was when I happened one day torecite the lines:-- Full many a gem of purest ray serene The dark, unfathomed caves of ocean bear. He rubbed his hands at once and murmured enthusiastically, "I neverthought of that. We might get up an Atlantic Exploration Syndicate, Limited. " So attached is he to diamonds. You may gather, therefore, what a shock it was to that gigantic brain to learn that science wasrapidly reaching a point where his favourite gems might become allat once a mere drug in the market. Depreciation is the one bugbearthat perpetually torments Sir Charles's soul; that winter he stoodwithin measurable distance of so appalling a calamity. It happened after this manner. We were strolling along Piccadilly towards Charles's club oneafternoon--he is a prominent member of the Croesus, in PallMall--when, near Burlington House, whom should we happen to knockup against but Sir Adolphus Cordery, the famous mineralogist, andleading spirit of the Royal Society! He nodded to us pleasantly. "Halloa, Vandrift, " he cried, in his peculiarly loud and piercingvoice; "you're the very man I wanted to meet to-day. Good morning, Wentworth. Well, how about diamonds now, Sir Gorgius? You'll have tosing small. It's all up with you Midases. Heard about this marvellousnew discovery of Schleiermacher's? It's calculated to make youdiamond kings squirm like an eel in a frying-pan. " I could see Charles wriggle inside his clothes. He was mostuncomfortable. That a man like Cordery should say such things, inso loud a voice, on no matter how little foundation, openly inPiccadilly, was enough in itself to make a sensitive barometersuch as Cloetedorp Golcondas go down a point or two. "Hush, hush!" Charles said solemnly, in that awed tone of voicewhich he always assumes when Money is blasphemed against. "_Please_don't talk quite so loud! All London can hear you. " Sir Adolphus ran his arm through Charles's most amicably. There'snothing Charles hates like having his arm taken. "Come along with me to the Athenæum, " he went on, in the samestentorian voice, "and I'll tell you all about it. Most interestingdiscovery. Makes diamonds cheap as dirt. Calculated to supersedeSouth Africa altogether. " Charles allowed himself to be dragged along. There was nothing elsepossible. Sir Adolphus continued, in a somewhat lower key, inducedupon him by Charles's mute look of protest. It was a disquietingstory. He told it with gleeful unction. It seems that ProfessorSchleiermacher, of Jena, "the greatest living authority on thechemistry of gems, " he said, had lately invented, or claimed tohave invented, a system for artificially producing diamonds, whichhad yielded most surprising and unexceptionable results. Charles's lip curled slightly. "Oh, I know the sort of thing, " hesaid. "I've heard of it before. Very inferior stones, quite smalland worthless, produced at immense cost, and even then not worthlooking at. I'm an old bird, you know, Cordery; not to be caughtwith chaff. Tell me a better one!" Sir Adolphus produced a small cut gem from his pocket. "How's thatfor the first water?" he inquired, passing it across, with a broadsmile, to the sceptic. "Made under my own eyes--and quiteinexpensively!" Charles examined it close, stopping short against the railings inSt. James's Square to look at it with his pocket-lens. There was nodenying the truth. It was a capital small gem of the finest quality. "Made under your own eyes?" he exclaimed, still incredulous. "Where, my dear sir?--at Jena?" The answer was a thunderbolt from a blue sky. "No, here in London;last night as ever was; before myself and Dr. Gray; and about to beexhibited by the President himself at a meeting of Fellows of theRoyal Society. " Charles drew a long breath. "This nonsense must be stopped, " he saidfirmly--"it must be nipped in the bud. It won't do, my dear friend;we can't have such tampering with important Interests. " "How do you mean?" Cordery asked, astonished. Charles gazed at him steadily. I could see by the furtive gleam inmy brother-in-law's eye he was distinctly frightened. "Where _is_the fellow?" he asked. "Did he come himself, or send over a deputy?" "Here in London, " Sir Adolphus replied. "He's staying at my house;and he says he'll be glad to show his experiments to anybodyscientifically interested in diamonds. We propose to have ademonstration of the process to-night at Lancaster Gate. Willyou drop in and see it?" Would he "drop in" and see it? "Drop in" at such a function! Couldhe possibly stop away? Charles clutched the enemy's arm with anervous grip. "Look here, Cordery, " he said, quivering; "this is aquestion affecting very important Interests. Don't do anything rash. Don't do anything foolish. Remember that Shares may rise or fall onthis. " He said "Shares" in a tone of profound respect that I canhardly even indicate. It was the crucial word in the creed of hisreligion. "I should think it very probable, " Sir Adolphus replied, with thecallous indifference of the mere man of science to financialsuffering. Sir Charles was bland, but peremptory. "Now, observe, " he said, "agrave responsibility rests on your shoulders. The Market dependsupon you. You must not ask in any number of outsiders to witnessthese experiments. Have a few mineralogists and experts, if youlike; but also take care to invite representatives of the menacedInterests. I will come myself--I'm engaged to dine out, but Ican contract an indisposition; and I should advise you to askMosenheimer, and, say, young Phipson. They would stand for themines, as you and the mineralogists would stand for science. Aboveall, don't blab; for Heaven's sake, let there be no prematuregossip. Tell Schleiermacher not to go gassing and boasting ofhis success all over London. " "We are keeping the matter a profound secret, at Schleiermacher'sown request, " Cordery answered, more seriously. "Which is why, " Charles said, in his severest tone, "you bawled itout at the very top of your voice in Piccadilly!" However, before nightfall, everything was arranged to Charles'ssatisfaction; and off we went to Lancaster Gate, with a profoundexpectation that the German professor would do nothing worth seeing. He was a remarkable-looking man, once tall, I should say, from hislong, thin build, but now bowed and bent with long devotion to studyand leaning over a crucible. His hair, prematurely white, hung downupon his forehead, but his eye was keen and his mouth sagacious. Heshook hands cordially with the men of science, whom he seemed toknow of old, whilst he bowed somewhat distantly to the South Africaninterest. Then he began to talk, in very German-English, helping outthe sense now and again, where his vocabulary failed him, by wavinghis rather dirty and chemical-stained hands demonstratively abouthim. His nails were a sight, but his fingers, I must say, had thedelicate shape of a man's accustomed to minute manipulation. Heplunged at once into the thick of the matter, telling us briefly inhis equally thick accent that he "now brobosed by his new brocessto make for us some goot and sadisfactory tiamonds. " He brought out his apparatus, and explained--or, as he said, "eggsblained"--his novel method. "Tiamonds, " he said, "were nozzingbut pure crystalline carbon. " He knew how to crystallise it--"zatwas all ze secret. " The men of science examined the pots and panscarefully. Then he put in a certain number of raw materials, andwent to work with ostentatious openness. There were three distinctprocesses, and he made two stones by each simultaneously. Theremarkable part of his methods, he said, was their rapidity andtheir cheapness. In three-quarters of an hour (and he smiledsardonically) he could produce a diamond worth at current pricestwo hundred pounds sterling. "As you shall now see me berform, "he remarked, "viz zis simple abbaradus. " The materials fizzed and fumed. The Professor stirred them. Anunpleasant smell like burnt feathers pervaded the room. Thescientific men craned their necks in their eagerness, and lookedover one another; Vane-Vivian, in particular, was all attention. After three-quarters of an hour, the Professor, still smiling, beganto empty the apparatus. He removed a large quantity of dust orpowder, which he succinctly described as "by-broducts, " and thentook between finger and thumb from the midst of each pan a smallwhite pebble, not water-worn apparently, but slightly rough andwart-like on the surface. From one pair of the pannikins he produced two such stones, andheld them up before us triumphantly. "Zese, " he said, "are genuinetiamonds, manufactured at a gost of fourteen shillings andsiggspence abiece!" Then he tried the second pair. "Zese, " he said, still more gleefully, "are broduced at a gost of eleffen andninebence!" Finally, he came to the third pair, which he positivelybrandished before our astonished eyes. "And zese, " he cried, transported, "haff gost me no more zan tree and eightbence!" They were handed round for inspection. Rough and uncut as theystood, it was, of course, impossible to judge of their value. Butone thing was certain. The men of science had been watching close atthe first, and were sure Herr Schleiermacher had not put the stonesin; they were keen at the withdrawal, and were equally sure he hadtaken them honestly out of the pannikins. "I vill now disdribute zem, " the Professor remarked in a casualtone, as if diamonds were peas, looking round at the company. Andhe singled out my brother-in-law. "One to Sir Charles!" he said, handing it; "one to Mr. Mosenheimer; one to Mr. Phibson--asrepresenting the tiamond interest. Zen, one each to Sir Atolphus, to Dr. Gray, to Mr. Fane-Fiffian, as representing science. You willhaff zem cut and rebort upon zem in due gourse. We meet again atzis blace ze day afder do-morrow. " Charles gazed at him reproachfully. The profoundest chords of hismoral nature were stirred. "Professor, " he said, in a voice ofsolemn warning, "_Are_ you aware that, _if_ you have succeeded, youhave destroyed the value of thousands of pounds' worth of preciousproperty?" The Professor shrugged his shoulders. "Fot is dat to me?" heinquired, with a curious glance of contempt. "I am not a financier!I am a man of science. I seek to know; I do not seek to make afortune. " "Shocking!" Charles exclaimed. "Shocking! I never before in my lifebeheld so strange an instance of complete insensibility to theclaims of others!" We separated early. The men of science were coarsely jubilant. Thediamond interest exhibited a corresponding depression. If this newswere true, they foresaw a slump. Every eye grew dim. It was aterrible business. Charles walked homeward with the Professor. He sounded him gently asto the sum required, should need arise, to purchase his secrecy. Already Sir Adolphus had bound us all down to temporary silence--asif that were necessary; but Charles wished to know how muchSchleiermacher would take to suppress his discovery. The Germanwas immovable. "No, no!" he replied, with positive petulance. "You do notunterstant. I do not buy and sell. Zis is a chemical fact. We mustbublish it for the sake off its seoretical falue. I do not carefor wealse. I haff no time to waste in making money. " "What an awful picture of a misspent life!" Charles observed to meafterwards. And, indeed, the man seemed to care for nothing on earth but theabstract question--not whether he could make good diamonds or not, but whether he could or could not produce a crystalline form ofpure carbon! On the appointed night Charles went back to Lancaster Gate, as Icould not fail to remark, with a strange air of complete and painfulpreoccupation. Never before in his life had I seen him so anxious. The diamonds were produced, with one surface of each slightly scoredby the cutters, so as to show the water. Then a curious resultdisclosed itself. Strange to say, each of the three diamonds givento the three diamond kings turned out to be a most inferior andvalueless stone; while each of the three intrusted to the care ofthe scientific investigators turned out to be a fine gem of thepurest quality. I confess it was a sufficiently suspicious conjunction. The threerepresentatives of the diamond interest gazed at each other withinquiring side-glances. Then their eyes fell suddenly: they avoidedone another. Had each independently substituted a weak and inferiornatural stone for Professor Schleiermacher's manufactured pebbles?It almost seemed so. For a moment, I admit, I was half inclined tosuppose it. But next second I changed my mind. Could a man of SirCharles Vandrift's integrity and high principle stoop for lucre'ssake to so mean an expedient?--not to mention the fact that, even ifhe did, and if Mosenheimer did likewise, the stones submitted to thescientific men would have amply sufficed to establish the realityand success of the experiments! Still, I must say, Charles looked guiltily across at Mosenheimer, and Mosenheimer at Phipson, while three more uncomfortable orunhappy-faced men could hardly have been found at that preciseminute in the City of Westminster. Then Sir Adolphus spoke--or, rather, he orated. He said, in his loudand grating voice, we had that evening, and on a previous evening, been present at the conception and birth of an Epoch in the Historyof Science. Professor Schleiermacher was one of those men of whomhis native Saxony might well be proud; while as a Briton he mustsay he regretted somewhat that this discovery, like so manyothers, should have been "Made in Germany. " However, ProfessorSchleiermacher was a specimen of that noble type of scientific mento whom gold was merely the rare metal Au, and diamonds merely theelement C in the scarcest of its manifold allotropic embodiments. The Professor did not seek to make money out of his discovery. Herose above the sordid greed of capitalists. Content with the gloryof having traced the element C to its crystalline origin, he askedno more than the approval of science. However, out of deference tothe wishes of those financial gentlemen who were oddly concerned inmaintaining the present price of C in its crystalline form--in otherwords, the diamond interest--they had arranged that the secretshould be strictly guarded and kept for the present; not one of thefew persons admitted to the experiments would publicly divulge thetruth about them. This secrecy would be maintained till he himself, and a small committee of the Royal Society, should have time toinvestigate and verify for themselves the Professor's beautifuland ingenious processes--an investigation and verification whichthe learned Professor himself both desired and suggested. (Schleiermacher nodded approval. ) When that was done, if theprocess stood the test, further concealment would be absolutelyfutile. The price of diamonds must fall at once below that of paste, and any protest on the part of the financial world would, of course, be useless. The laws of Nature were superior to millionaires. Meanwhile, in deference to the opinion of Sir Charles Vandrift, whose acquaintance with that fascinating side of the subject nobodycould deny, they had consented to send no notices to the Press, andto abstain from saying anything about this beautiful and simpleprocess in public. He dwelt with horrid gusto on that epithet"beautiful. " And now, in the name of British mineralogy, he mustcongratulate Professor Schleiermacher, our distinguished guest, onhis truly brilliant and crystalline contribution to our knowledgeof brilliants and of crystalline science. Everybody applauded. It was an awkward moment. Sir Charles bit hislip. Mosenheimer looked glum. Young Phipson dropped an expressionwhich I will not transcribe. (I understand this work may circulateamong families. ) And after a solemn promise of death-like secrecy, the meeting separated. I noticed that my brother-in-law somewhat ostentatiously avoidedMosenheimer at the door; and that Phipson jumped quickly into hisown carriage. "Home!" Charles cried gloomily to the coachman as wetook our seats in the brougham. And all the way to Mayfair he leanedback in his seat, with close-set lips, never uttering a syllable. Before he retired to rest, however, in the privacy of thebilliard-room, I ventured to ask him: "Charles, will you unloadGolcondas to-morrow?" Which, I need hardly explain, is the slang ofthe Stock Exchange for getting rid of undesirable securities. Itstruck me as probable that, in the event of the invention turningout a reality, Cloetedorp A's might become unsaleable within thenext few weeks or so. He eyed me sternly. "Wentworth, " he said, "you're a fool!" (Excepton occasions when he is _very_ angry, my respected connection_never_ calls me "Wentworth"; the familiar abbreviation, "Sey"--derived from Seymour--is his usual mode of address tome in private. ) "_Is_ it likely I would unload, and wreck theconfidence of the public in the Cloetedorp Company at such amoment? As a director--as Chairman--would it be just or right ofme? I ask you, sir, _could_ I reconcile it to my conscience?" "Charles, " I answered, "you are right. Your conduct is noble. Youwill not save your own personal interests at the expense of thosewho have put their trust in you. Such probity is, alas! very rare infinance!" And I sighed involuntarily; for I had lost in Liberators. At the same time I thought to myself, "_I_ am not a director. Notrust is reposed in _me_. _I_ have to think first of dear Isabel andthe baby. Before the crash comes _I_ will sell out to-morrow thefew shares I hold, through Charles's kindness, in the CloetedorpGolcondas. " With his marvellous business instinct, Charles seemed to divinemy thought, for he turned round to me sharply. "Look here, Sey, "he remarked, in an acidulous tone, "recollect, you're mybrother-in-law. You are also my secretary. The eyes of London willbe upon us to-morrow. If _you_ were to sell out, and operators got toknow of it, they'd suspect there was something up, and the companywould suffer for it. Of course, you can do what you like with yourown property. I can't interfere with _that_. I do not dictate toyou. But as Chairman of the Golcondas, I am bound to see that theinterests of widows and orphans whose All is invested with me shouldnot suffer at this crisis. " His voice seemed to falter. "Therefore, though I don't like to threaten, " he went on, "I am bound to giveyou warning: _if_ you sell out those shares of yours, openly orsecretly, you are no longer my secretary; you receive forthwith sixmonths' salary in lieu of notice, and--you leave me instantly. " "Very well, Charles, " I answered, in a submissive voice; though Idebated with myself for a moment whether it would be best to stickto the ready money and quit the sinking ship, or to hold fast by myfriend, and back Charles's luck against the Professor's science. After a short, sharp struggle within my own mind, I am proud to say, friendship and gratitude won. I felt sure that, whether diamondswent up or down, Charles Vandrift was the sort of man who would cometo the top in the end in spite of everything. And I decided to standby him! I slept little that night, however. My mind was a whirlwind. Atbreakfast Charles also looked haggard and moody. He ordered thecarriage early, and drove straight into the City. There was a block in Cheapside. Charles, impatient and nervous, jumped out and walked. I walked beside him. Near Wood Street a manwe knew casually stopped us. "I think I ought to mention to you, " he said, confidentially, "that I have it on the very best authority that Schleiermacher, of Jena--" "Thank you, " Charles said, crustily, "I know that tale, and--there'snot a word of truth in it. " He brushed on in haste. A yard or two farther a broker paused infront of us. "Halloa, Sir Charles!" he called out, in a bantering tone. "What'sall this about diamonds? Where are Cloetedorps to-day? Is itGolconda, or Queer Street?" Charles drew himself up very stiff. "I fail to understand you, "he answered, with dignity. "Why, you were there yourself, " the man cried. "Last night at SirAdolphus's! Oh yes, it's all over the place; Schleiermacher of Jenahas succeeded in making the most perfect diamonds--for sixpenceapiece--as good as real--and South Africa's ancient history. In lessthan six weeks Kimberley, they say, will be a howling desert. Everycostermonger in Whitechapel will wear genuine Koh-i-noors forbuttons on his coat; every girl in Bermondsey will sport a rivièrelike Lady Vandrift's to her favourite music-hall. There's a slumpin Golcondas. Sly, sly, I can see; but _we_ know all about it!" Charles moved on, disgusted. The man's manners were atrocious. Near the Bank we ran up against a most respectable jobber. "Ah, Sir Charles, " he said; "you here? Well, this is strange news, isn't it? For my part, I advise you not to take it too seriously. Your stock will go down, of course, like lead this morning. Butit'll rise to-morrow, mark my words, and fluctuate every hour tillthe discovery's proved or disproved for certain. There's a finetime coming for operators, I feel sure. Reports this way and that. Rumours, rumours, rumours. And nobody will know which way to believetill Sir Adolphus has tested it. " We moved on towards the House. Black care was seated on SirCharles's shoulders. As we drew nearer and nearer, everybody wasdiscussing the one fact of the moment. The seal of secrecy hadproved more potent than publication on the housetops. Some peopletold us of the exciting news in confidential whispers; someproclaimed it aloud in vulgar exultation. The general opinion wasthat Cloetedorps were doomed, and that the sooner a man clearedout the less was he likely to lose by it. Charles strode on like a general; but it was a Napoleon brazeningout his retreat from Moscow. His mien was resolute. He disappearedat last into the precincts of an office, waving me back, not tofollow. After a long consultation he came out and rejoined me. All day long the City rang with Golcondas, Golcondas. Everybodymurmured, "Slump, slump in Golcondas. " The brokers had more businessto do than they could manage; though, to be sure, almost every onewas a seller and no one a buyer. But Charles stood firm as a rock, and so did his brokers. "I don't want to sell, " he said, doggedly. "The whole thing is trumped up. It's a mere piece of jugglery. Formy own part, I believe Professor Schleiermacher is deceived, or elseis deceiving us. In another week the bubble will have burst, andprices will restore themselves. " His brokers, Finglemores, had onlyone answer to all inquiries: "Sir Charles has every confidence inthe stability of Golcondas, and doesn't wish to sell or to increasethe panic. " All the world said he was splendid, splendid! There he stationedhimself on 'Change like some granite stack against which the wavesroll and break themselves in vain. He took no notice of the slump, but ostentatiously bought up a few shares here and there so as torestore public confidence. "I would buy more, " he said, freely, "and make my fortune; only, as I was one of those who happened to spend last night at SirAdolphus's, people might think I had helped to spread the rumourand produce the slump, in order to buy in at panic rates for myown advantage. A chairman, like Caesar's wife, should be abovesuspicion. So I shall only buy up just enough, now and again, tolet people see I, at least, have no doubt as to the firm futureof Cloetedorps. " He went home that night, more harassed and ill than I have everseen him. Next day was as bad. The slump continued, with varyingepisodes. Now, a rumour would surge up that Sir Adolphus haddeclared the whole affair a sham, and prices would steady a little;now, another would break out that the diamonds were actually beingput upon the market in Berlin by the cart-load, and timid old ladieswould wire down to their brokers to realise off-hand at whateverhazard. It was an awful day. I shall never forget it. The morning after, as if by miracle, things righted themselves ofa sudden. While we were wondering what it meant, Charles received atelegram from Sir Adolphus Cordery:-- "The man is a fraud. Not Schleiermacher at all. Just had a wirefrom Jena saying the Professor knows nothing about him. Sorryunintentionally to have caused you trouble. Come round and see me. " "Sorry unintentionally to have caused you trouble. " Charles wasbeside himself with anger. Sir Adolphus had upset the share-marketfor forty-eight mortal hours, half-ruined a round dozen of wealthyoperators, convulsed the City, upheaved the House, and now--heapologised for it as one might apologise for being late ten minutesfor dinner! Charles jumped into a hansom and rushed round to seehim. How had he dared to introduce the impostor to solid men asProfessor Schleiermacher? Sir Adolphus shrugged his shoulders. Thefellow had come and introduced himself as the great Jena chemist;he had long white hair, and a stoop in the shoulders. What reasonhad _he_ for doubting his word? (I reflected to myself that on muchthe same grounds Charles in turn had accepted the Honourable DavidGranton and Graf von Lebenstein. ) Besides, what object could thecreature have for this extraordinary deception? Charles knew onlytoo well. It was clear it was done to disturb the diamond market, and we realised, too late, that the man who had done it was--ColonelClay, in "another of his manifold allotropic embodiments!" Charleshad had his wish, and had met his enemy once more in London! We could see the whole plot. Colonel Clay was polymorphic, like theelement carbon! Doubtless, with his extraordinary sleight of hand, he had substituted real diamonds for the shapeless mass that cameout of the apparatus, in the interval between handing the pebblesround for inspection, and distributing them piecemeal to the men ofscience and representatives of the diamond interest. We all watchedhim closely, of course, when he opened the crucibles; but when oncewe had satisfied ourselves that _something_ came out, our doubts wereset at rest, and we forgot to watch whether he distributed thosesomethings or not to the recipients. Conjurers always depend uponsuch momentary distractions or lapses of attention. As usual, too, the Professor had disappeared into space the moment his trick wasonce well performed. He vanished like smoke, as the Count and Seerhad vanished before, and was never again heard of. Charles went home more angry than I have ever beheld him. I couldn'timagine why. He seemed as deeply hipped as if he had lost histhousands. I endeavoured to console him. "After all, " I said, "though Golcondas have suffered a temporary loss, it's a comfortto think that you should have stood so firm, and not only stemmedthe tide, but also prevented yourself from losing anything at allof your own through panic. I'm sorry, of course, for the widowsand orphans; but if Colonel Clay has rigged the market, at leastit isn't YOU who lose by it this time. " Charles withered me with a fierce scowl of undisguised contempt. "Wentworth, " he said once more, "you are a fool!" Then he relapsedinto silence. "But you declined to sell out, " I said. He gazed at me fixedly. "Is it likely, " he asked at last, "I wouldtell _you_ if I meant to sell out? or that I'd sell out openly throughFinglemore, my usual broker? Why, all the world would have known, and Golcondas would have been finished. As it is, I don't desire totell an ass like you exactly how much I've lost. But I _did_ sell out, and some unknown operator bought in at once, and closed for readymoney, and has sold again this morning; and after all that hashappened, it will be impossible to track him. He didn't wait for theaccount: he settled up instantly. And he sold in like manner. I knownow what has been done, and how cleverly it has all been disguisedand covered; but the most I'm going to tell you to-day is justthis--it's by far the biggest haul Colonel Clay has made out of me. He could retire on it if he liked. My one hope is, it may satisfyhim for life; but, then, no man has ever had enough of making money. " "_You_ sold out!" I exclaimed. "_You_, the Chairman of the company!_You_ deserted the ship! And how about your trust? How about the widowsand orphans confided to you?" Charles rose and faced me. "Seymour Wentworth, " he said, in his mostsolemn voice, "you have lived with me for years and had everyadvantage. You have seen high finance. Yet you ask me that question!It's my belief you will never, never understand business!" VII THE EPISODE OF THE ARREST OF THE COLONEL How much precisely Charles dropped over the slump in CloetedorpsI never quite knew. But the incident left him dejected, limp, anddispirited. "Hang it all, Sey, " he said to me in the smoking-room, a fewevenings later. "This Colonel Clay is enough to vex the patience ofJob--and Job had large losses, too, if I recollect aright, from theChaldeans and other big operators of the period. " "Three thousand camels, " I murmured, recalling my dear mother'slessons; "all at one fell swoop; not to mention five hundred yoke ofoxen, carried off by the Sabeans, then a leading firm of speculativecattle-dealers!" "Ah, well, " Charles meditated aloud, shaking the ash from hischeroot into a Japanese tray--fine antique bronze-work. "There werebig transactions in live-stock even then! Still, Job or no Job, theman is too much for me. " "The difficulty is, " I assented, "you never know where to have him. " "Yes, " Charles mused; "if he were always the same, like Horniman'stea or a good brand of whisky, it would be easier, of course; you'dstand some chance of spotting him. But when a man turns up smilingevery time in a different disguise, which fits him like a skin, andalways apparently with the best credentials, why, hang it all, Sey, there's no wrestling with him anyhow. " "Who could have come to us, for example, better vouched, " Iacquiesced, "than the Honourable David?" "Exactly so, " Charles murmured. "I invited him myself, for my ownadvantage. And he arrived with all the prestige of the Glen-Ellachieconnection. " "Or the Professor?" I went on. "Introduced to us by the leadingmineralogist of England. " I had touched a sore point. Charles winced and remained silent. "Then, women again, " he resumed, after a painful pause. "I must meetin society many charming women. I can't everywhere and always be onmy guard against every dear soul of them. Yet the moment I relaxmy attention for one day--or even when I don't relax it--I ambamboozled and led a dance by that arch Mme. Picardet, or thattransparently simple little minx, Mrs. Granton. She's the cleverestgirl I ever met in my life, that hussy, whatever we're to call her. She's a different person each time; and each time, hang it all, Ilose my heart afresh to that different person. " I glanced round to make sure Amelia was well out of earshot. "No, Sey, " my respected connection went on, after another longpause, sipping his coffee pensively, "I feel I must be aided in thissuperhuman task by a professional unraveller of cunning disguises. Ishall go to Marvillier's to-morrow--fortunate man, Marvillier--andask him to supply me with a really good 'tec, who will stop in thehouse and keep an eye upon every living soul that comes near me. He shall scan each nose, each eye, each wig, each whisker. He shallbe my watchful half, my unsleeping self; it shall be his businessto suspect all living men, all breathing women. The Archbishop ofCanterbury shall not escape for a moment his watchful regard; hewill take care that royal princesses don't collar the spoons or walkoff with the jewel-cases. He must see possible Colonel Clays in theguard of every train and the parson of every parish; he must detectthe off-chance of a Mme. Picardet in every young girl that takes teawith Amelia, every fat old lady that comes to call upon Isabel. Yes, I have made my mind up. I shall go to-morrow and secure such a manat once at Marvillier's. " "If you please, Sir Charles, " Césarine interposed, pushing her headthrough the portière, "her ladyship says, will you and Mr. Wentworthremember that she goes out with you both this evening to LadyCarisbrooke's?" "Bless my soul, " Charles cried, "so she does! And it's now past ten!The carriage will be at the door for us in another five minutes!" Next morning, accordingly, Charles drove round to Marvillier's. Thefamous detective listened to his story with glistening eyes; then herubbed his hands and purred. "Colonel Clay!" he said; "Colonel Clay!That's a very tough customer! The police of Europe are on thelook-out for Colonel Clay. He is wanted in London, in Paris, inBerlin. It is le Colonel Caoutchouc here, le Colonel Caoutchoucthere; till one begins to ask, at last, IS there _any_ ColonelCaoutchouc, or is it a convenient class name invented by the Forceto cover a gang of undiscovered sharpers? However, Sir Charles, wewill do our best. I will set on the track without delay the best andcleverest detective in England. " "The very man I want, " Charles said. "What name, Marvillier?" The principal smiled. "Whatever name you like, " he said. "He isn'tparticular. Medhurst he's called at home. _We_ call him Joe. I'llsend him round to your house this afternoon for certain. " "Oh no, " Charles said promptly, "you won't; or Colonel Clay himselfwill come instead of him. I've been sold too often. No casualstrangers! I'll wait here and see him. " "But he isn't in, " Marvillier objected. Charles was firm as a rock. "Then send and fetch him. " In half an hour, sure enough, the detective arrived. He was anodd-looking small man, with hair cut short and standing straight upall over his head, like a Parisian waiter. He had quick, sharp eyes, very much like a ferret's; his nose was depressed, his lips thin andbloodless. A scar marked his left cheek--made by a sword-cut, hesaid, when engaged one day in arresting a desperate French smuggler, disguised as an officer of Chasseurs d'Afrique. His mien wasresolute. Altogether, a quainter or 'cuter little man it has neveryet been my lot to set eyes on. He walked in with a brisk step, eyed Charles up and down, and then, without much formality, askedfor what he was wanted. "This is Sir Charles Vandrift, the great diamond king, " Marvilliersaid, introducing us. "So I see, " the man answered. "Then you know me?" Charles asked. "I wouldn't be worth much, " the detective replied, "if I didn'tknow everybody. And you're easy enough to know; why, every boy inthe street knows you. " "Plain spoken!" Charles remarked. "As you like it, sir, " the man answered in a respectful tone. "Iendeavour to suit my dress and behaviour on every occasion to thetaste of my employers. " "Your name?" Charles asked, smiling. "Joseph Medhurst, at your service. What sort of work? Stolendiamonds? Illicit diamond-buying?" "No, " Charles answered, fixing him with his eye. "Quite another kindof job. You've heard of Colonel Clay?" Medhurst nodded. "Why, certainly, " he said; and, for the first time, I detected a lingering trace of American accent. "It's my businessto know about him. " "Well, I want you to catch him, " Charles went on. Medhurst drew a long breath. "Isn't that rather a large order?"he murmured, surprised. Charles explained to him exactly the sort of services he required. Medhurst promised to comply. "If the man comes near you, I'll spothim, " he said, after a moment's pause. "I can promise you that much. I'll pierce any disguise. I should know in a minute whether he'sgot up or not. I'm death on wigs, false moustaches, artificialcomplexions. I'll engage to bring the rogue to book if I see him. You may set your mind at rest, that, while _I'm_ about you, ColonelClay can do nothing without my instantly spotting him. " "He'll do it, " Marvillier put in. "He'll do it, if he says it. He'smy very best hand. Never knew any man like him for unravelling andunmasking the cleverest disguises. " "Then he'll suit me, " Charles answered, "for _I_ never knew any manlike Colonel Clay for assuming and maintaining them. " It was arranged accordingly that Medhurst should take up hisresidence in the house for the present, and should be described tothe servants as assistant secretary. He came that very day, with amarvellously small portmanteau. But from the moment he arrived, we noticed that Césarine took a violent dislike to him. Medhurst was a most efficient detective. Charles and I told himall we knew about the various shapes in which Colonel Clay had"materialised, " and he gave us in turn many valuable criticisms andsuggestions. Why, when we began to suspect the Honourable DavidGranton, had we not, as if by accident, tried to knock his red wigoff? Why, when the Reverend Richard Peploe Brabazon first discussedthe question of the paste diamonds, had we not looked to see ifany of Amelia's unique gems were missing? Why, when ProfessorSchleiermacher made his bow to assembled science at Lancaster Gate, had we not strictly inquired how far he was personally knownbeforehand to Sir Adolphus Cordery and the other mineralogists?He supplied us also with several good hints about false hair andmake-up; such as that Schleiermacher was probably much shorter thanhe looked, but by imitating a stoop with padding at his back hehad produced the illusion of a tall bent man, though in reality nobigger than the little curate or the Graf von Lebenstein. High heelsdid the rest; while the scientific keenness we noted in his face wasdoubtless brought about by a trifle of wax at the end of the nose, giving a peculiar tilt that is extremely effective. In short, I mustfrankly admit, Medhurst made us feel ashamed of ourselves. Sharp asCharles is, we realised at once he was nowhere in observation besidethe trained and experienced senses of this professional detective. The worst of it all was, while Medhurst was with us, by some curiousfatality, Colonel Clay stopped away from us. Now and again, to besure, we ran up against somebody whom Medhurst suspected; butafter a short investigation (conducted, I may say, with admirablecleverness), the spy always showed us the doubtful person wasreally some innocent and well-known character, whose antecedentsand surroundings he elucidated most wonderfully. He was a perfectmarvel, too, in his faculty of suspicion. He suspected everybody. Ifan old friend dropped in to talk business with Charles, we found outafterwards that Medhurst had lain concealed all the time behind thecurtain, and had taken short-hand notes of the whole conversation, as well as snap-shot photographs of the supposed sharper, by meansof a kodak. If a fat old lady came to call upon Amelia, Medhurstwas sure to be lurking under the ottoman in the drawing-room, andcarefully observing, with all his eyes, whether or not she wasreally Mme. Picardet, padded. When Lady Tresco brought her fourplain daughters to an "At Home" one night, Medhurst, in eveningdress, disguised as a waiter, followed them each round the room withobtrusive ices, to satisfy himself just how much of their complexionwas real, and how much was patent rouge and Bloom of Ninon. Hedoubted whether Simpson, Sir Charles's valet, was not Colonel Clayin plain clothes; and he had half an idea that Césarine herself wasour saucy White Heather in an alternative avatar. We pointed outto him in vain that Simpson had often been present in the verysame room with David Granton, and that Césarine had dressed Mrs. Brabazon's hair at Lucerne: this partially satisfied him, but onlypartially. He remarked that Simpson might double both parts withsomebody else unknown; and that as for Césarine, she might wellhave a twin sister who took her place when she was Mme. Picardet. Still, in spite of all his care--or because of all his care--ColonelClay stopped away for whole weeks together. An explanation occurredto us. Was it possible he knew we were guarded and watched? Was heafraid of measuring swords with this trained detective? If so, how had he found it out? I had an inkling, myself--but, underall the circumstances, I did not mention it to Charles. It was clearthat Césarine intensely disliked this new addition to the Vandrifthousehold. She would not stop in the room where the detective was, or show him common politeness. She spoke of him always as "thatodious man, Medhurst. " Could she have guessed, what none of theother servants knew, that the man was a spy in search of theColonel? I was inclined to believe it. And then it dawned upon methat Césarine had known all about the diamonds and their story; thatit was Césarine who took us to see Schloss Lebenstein; that it wasCésarine who posted the letter to Lord Craig-Ellachie! If Césarinewas in league with Colonel Clay, as I was half inclined to surmise, what more natural than her obvious dislike to the detective who wasthere to catch her principal? What more simple for her than to warnher fellow-conspirator of the danger that awaited him if heapproached this man Medhurst? However, I was too much frightened by the episode of the cheque tosay anything of my nascent suspicions to Charles. I waited ratherto see how events would shape themselves. After a while Medhurst's vigilance grew positively annoying. Morethan once he came to Charles with reports and shorthand notesdistinctly distasteful to my excellent brother-in-law. "The fellowis getting to know too much about us, " Charles said to me one day. "Why, Sey, he spies out everything. Would you believe it, when I hadthat confidential interview with Brookfield the other day, about thenew issue of Golcondas, the man was under the easy-chair, though Isearched the room beforehand to make sure he wasn't there; and hecame to me afterwards with full notes of the conversation, to assureme he thought Brookfield--whom I've known for ten years--was tootall by half an inch to be one of Colonel Clay's impersonations. " "Oh, but, Sir Charles, " Medhurst cried, emerging suddenly from thebookcase, "you must never look upon _any one_ as above suspicionmerely because you've known him for ten years or thereabouts. Colonel Clay may have approached you at various times under manydisguises. He may have built up this thing gradually. Besides, as tomy knowing too much, why, of course, a detective always learns manythings about his employer's family which he is not supposed to know;but professional honour and professional etiquette, as with doctorsand lawyers, compel him to lock them up as absolute secrets in hisown bosom. You need never be afraid I will divulge one jot of them. If I did, my occupation would be gone, and my reputation shattered. " Charles looked at him, appalled. "Do you dare to say, " he burst out, "you've been listening to my talk with my brother-in-law andsecretary?" "Why, of course, " Medhurst answered. "It's my business to listen, and to suspect everybody. If you push me to say so, how do I knowColonel Clay is not--Mr. Wentworth?" Charles withered him with a look. "In future, Medhurst, " he said, "you must never conceal yourself in a room where I am without myleave and knowledge. " Medhurst bowed politely. "Oh, as you will, Sir Charles, " heanswered; "that's _quite_ at your own wish. Though how can I actas an efficient detective, any way, if you insist upon tying myhands like that, beforehand?" Again I detected a faint American flavour. After that rebuff, however, Medhurst seemed put upon his mettle. Heredoubled his vigilance in every direction. "It's not my fault, " hesaid plaintively, one day, "if my reputation's so good that, whileI'm near you, this rogue won't approach you. If I can't _catch_ him, at least I keep him away from coming near you!" A few days later, however, he brought Charles some photographs. These he produced with evident pride. The first he showed us was avignette of a little parson. "Who's that, then?" he inquired, muchpleased. We gazed at it, open-eyed. One word rose to our lips simultaneously:"Brabazon!" "And how's this for high?" he asked again, producing another--thephotograph of a gay young dog in a Tyrolese costume. We murmured, "Von Lebenstein!" "_And_ this?" he continued, showing us the portrait of a lady with amost fetching squint. We answered with one voice, "Little Mrs. Granton!" Medhurst was naturally proud of this excellent exploit. He replacedthem in his pocket-book with an air of just triumph. "How did you get them?" Charles asked. Medhurst's look was mysterious. "Sir Charles, " he answered, drawinghimself up, "I must ask you to trust me awhile in this matter. Remember, there are people whom you decline to suspect. _I_ havelearned that it is always those very people who are most dangerousto capitalists. If I were to give you the names now, you wouldrefuse to believe me. Therefore, I hold them over discreetly forthe moment. One thing, however, I say. I _know_ to a certainty whereColonel Clay is at this present speaking. But I will lay my plansdeep, and I hope before long to secure him. You shall be presentwhen I do so; and I shall make him confess his personality openly. More than that you cannot reasonably ask. I shall leave it to_you_, then, whether or not you wish to arrest him. " Charles was considerably puzzled, not to say piqued, by this curiousreticence; he begged hard for names; but Medhurst was adamant. "No, no, " he replied; "we detectives have our own just pride in ourprofession. If I told you now, you would probably spoil all by somepremature action. You are too open and impulsive! I will mentionthis alone: Colonel Clay will be shortly in Paris, and before longwill begin from that city a fresh attempt at defrauding you, whichhe is now hatching. Mark my words, and see whether or not I havebeen kept well informed of the fellow's movements!" He was perfectly correct. Two days later, as it turned out, Charlesreceived a "confidential" letter from Paris, purporting to comefrom the head of a second-rate financial house with which he hadhad dealings over the Craig-Ellachie Amalgamation--by this time, I ought to have said, an accomplished union. It was a letter ofsmall importance in itself--a mere matter of detail; but it pavedthe way, so Medhurst thought, to some later development of moreserious character. Here once more the man's singular foresight wasjustified. For, in another week, we received a second communication, containing other proposals of a delicate financial character, whichwould have involved the transference of some two thousand poundsto the head of the Parisian firm at an address given. Both theseletters Medhurst cleverly compared with those written to Charlesbefore, in the names of Colonel Clay and of Graf von Lebenstein. At first sight, it is true, the differences between the two seemedquite enormous: the Paris hand was broad and black, large and bold;while the earlier manuscript was small, neat, thin, and gentlemanly. Still, when Medhurst pointed out to us certain persistent twists inthe formation of his capitals, and certain curious peculiarities inthe relative length of his t's, his l's, his b's, and his h's, wecould see for ourselves he was right; both were the work of one hand, writing in the one case with a sharp-pointed nib, very small, and inthe other with a quill, very large and freely. This discovery was _most_ important. We stood now within measurabledistance of catching Colonel Clay, and bringing forgery and fraudhome to him without hope of evasion. To make all sure, however, Medhurst communicated with the Parispolice, and showed us their answers. Meanwhile, Charles continued towrite to the head of the firm, who had given a private address inthe Rue Jean Jacques, alleging, I must say, a most clever reason whythe negotiations at this stage should be confidentially conducted. But one never expected from Colonel Clay anything less thanconsummate cleverness. In the end, it was arranged that we threewere to go over to Paris together, that Medhurst was to undertake, under the guise of being Sir Charles, to pay the two thousand poundsto the pretended financier, and that Charles and I, waiting with thepolice outside the door, should, at a given signal, rush in with ourforces and secure the criminal. We went over accordingly, and spent the night at the Grand, as isCharles's custom. The Bristol, which I prefer, he finds too quiet. Early next morning we took a fiacre and drove to the Rue JeanJacques. Medhurst had arranged everything in advance with the Parispolice, three of whom, in plain clothes, were waiting at the footof the staircase to assist us. Charles had further provided himselfwith two thousand pounds, in notes of the Bank of France, in orderthat the payment might be duly made, and no doubt arise as to thecrime having been perpetrated as well as meditated--in the formercase, the penalty would be fifteen years; in the latter, three only. He was in very high spirits. The fact that we had tracked the rascalto earth at last, and were within an hour of apprehending him, wasin itself enough to raise his courage greatly. We found, as weexpected, that the number given in the Rue Jean Jacques was thatof an hotel, not a private residence. Medhurst went in first, andinquired of the landlord whether our man was at home, at the sametime informing him of the nature of our errand, and giving him tounderstand that if we effected the capture by his friendly aid, SirCharles would see that the expenses incurred on the swindler's billwere met in full, as the price of his assistance. The landlordbowed; he expressed his deep regret, as M. Le Colonel--so weheard him call him--was a most amiable person, much liked by thehousehold; but justice, of course, must have its way; and, with aregretful sigh, he undertook to assist us. The police remained below, but Charles and Medhurst were eachprovided with a pair of handcuffs. Remembering the Polperro case, however, we determined to use them with the greatest caution. Wewould only put them on in case of violent resistance. We crept up tothe door where the miscreant was housed. Charles handed the notes inan open envelope to Medhurst, who seized them hastily and held themin his hands in readiness for action. We had a sign concerted. Whenever he sneezed--which he could do in the most naturalmanner--we were to open the door, rush in, and secure the criminal! He was gone for some minutes. Charles and I waited outside inbreathless expectation. Then Medhurst sneezed. We flung the dooropen at once, and burst in upon the creature. Medhurst rose as we did so. He pointed with his finger. "_This_ isColonel Clay!" he said; "keep him well in charge while I go downto the door for the police to arrest him!" A gentlemanly man, about middle height, with a grizzled beard and awell-assumed military aspect, rose at the same moment. The envelopein which Charles had placed the notes lay on the table before him. He clutched it nervously. "I am at a loss, gentlemen, " he said, inan excited voice, "to account for this interruption. " He spoke witha tremor, yet with all the politeness to which we were accustomed inthe little curate and the Honourable David. "No nonsense!" Charles exclaimed, in his authoritative way. "We knowwho you are. We have found you out this time. You are Colonel Clay. If you attempt to resist--take care--I will handcuff you!" The military gentleman gave a start. "Yes, I _am_ Colonel Clay, " heanswered. "On what charge do you arrest me?" Charles was bursting with wrath. The fellow's coolness seemed neverto desert him. "You _are_ Colonel Clay!" he muttered. "You have theunspeakable effrontery to stand there and admit it?" "Certainly, " the Colonel answered, growing hot in turn. "I have donenothing to be ashamed of. What do you mean by this conduct? How dareyou talk of arresting me?" Charles laid his hand on the man's shoulder. "Come, come, myfriend, " he said. "That sort of bluff won't go down with us. Youknow very well on what charge I arrest you; and here are the policeto give effect to it. " He called out "Entrez!" The police entered the room. Charlesexplained as well as he could in most doubtful Parisian what theywere next to do. The Colonel drew himself up in an indignantattitude. He turned and addressed them in excellent French. "I am an officer in the service of her Britannic Majesty, " he said. "On what ground do you venture to interfere with me, messieurs?" The chief policeman explained. The Colonel turned to Charles. "_Your_ name, sir?" he inquired. "You know it very well, " Charles answered. "I am Sir CharlesVandrift; and, in spite of your clever disguise, I can instantlyrecognise you. I know your eyes and ears. I can see the same manwho cheated me at Nice, and who insulted me on the island. " "_You_ Sir Charles Vandrift!" the rogue cried. "No, no, sir, you area madman!" He looked round at the police. "Take care what you do!"he cried. "This is a raving maniac. I had business just now with SirCharles Vandrift, who quitted the room as these gentlemen entered. This person is mad, and you, monsieur, I doubt not, " bowing to me, "you are, of course, his keeper. " "Do not let him deceive you, " I cried to the police, beginning tofear that with his usual incredible cleverness the fellow wouldeven now manage to slip through our fingers. "Arrest him, as youare told. _We_ will take the responsibility. " Though I trembled whenI thought of that cheque he held of mine. The chief of our three policemen came forward and laid his hand onthe culprit's shoulder. "I advise you, M. Le Colonel, " he said, inan official voice, "to come with us quietly for the present. Beforethe juge d'instruction we can enter at length into all thesequestions. " The Colonel, very indignant still--and acting the partmarvellously--yielded and went along with them. "Where's Medhurst?" Charles inquired, glancing round as we reachedthe door. "I wish he had stopped with us. " "You are looking for monsieur your friend?" the landlord inquired, with a side bow to the Colonel. "He has gone away in a fiacre. Heasked me to give this note to you. " He handed us a twisted note. Charles opened and read it. "Invaluableman!" he cried. "Just hear what he says, Sey: 'Having securedColonel Clay, I am off now again on the track of Mme. Picardet. She was lodging in the same house. She has just driven away; I knowto what place; and I am after her to arrest her. In blind haste, MEDHURST. ' That's smartness, IF you like. Though, poor little woman, I think he might have left her. " "Does a Mme. Picardet stop here?" I inquired of the landlord, thinking it possible she might have assumed again the same oldalias. He nodded assent. "Oui, oui, oui, " he answered. "She has just drivenoff, and monsieur your friend has gone posting after her. " "Splendid man!" Charles cried. "Marvillier was quite right. He isthe prince of detectives!" We hailed a couple of fiacres, and drove off, in two detachments, to the juge d'instruction. There Colonel Clay continued to brazenit out, and asserted that he was an officer in the Indian Army, homeon six months' leave, and spending some weeks in Paris. He evendeclared he was known at the Embassy, where he had a cousin anattaché; and he asked that this gentleman should be sent for at oncefrom our Ambassador's to identify him. The juge d'instructioninsisted that this must be done; and Charles waited in very badhumour for the foolish formality. It really seemed as if, after all, when we had actually caught and arrested our man, he was going bysome cunning device to escape us. After a delay of more than an hour, during which Colonel Clayfretted and fumed quite as much as we did, the attaché arrived. Toour horror and astonishment, he proceeded to salute the prisonermost affectionately. "Halloa, Algy!" he cried, grasping his hand; "what's up? What dothese ruffians want with you?" It began to dawn upon us, then, what Medhurst had meant by"suspecting everybody": the real Colonel Clay was no commonadventurer, but a gentleman of birth and high connections! The Colonel glared at us. "This fellow declares he's Sir CharlesVandrift, " he said sulkily. "Though, in fact, there are two of them. And he accuses me of forgery, fraud, and theft, Bertie. " The attaché stared hard at us. "This _is_ Sir Charles Vandrift, " hereplied, after a moment. "I remember hearing him make a speech onceat a City dinner. And what charge have you to prefer, Sir Charles, against my cousin?" "Your cousin?" Charles cried. "This is Colonel Clay, the notorioussharper!" The attaché smiled a gentlemanly and superior smile. "This isColonel Clay, " he answered, "of the Bengal Staff Corps. " It began to strike us there was something wrong somewhere. "But he has cheated me, all the same, " Charles said--"at Nice twoyears ago, and many times since; and this very day he has tricked meout of two thousand pounds in French bank-notes, which he has nowabout him!" The Colonel was speechless. But the attaché laughed. "What he hasdone to-day I don't know, " he said; "but if it's as apocryphal aswhat you say he did two years ago, you've a thundering bad case, sir; for he was then in India, and I was out there, visiting him. " "Where are the two thousand pounds?" Charles cried. "Why, you've gotthem in your hand! You're holding the envelope!" The Colonel produced it. "This envelope, " he said, "was left with meby the man with short stiff hair, who came just before you, and whoannounced himself as Sir Charles Vandrift. He said he was interestedin tea in Assam, and wanted me to join the board of directors ofsome bogus company. These are his papers, I believe, " and he handedthem to his cousin. "Well, I'm glad the notes are safe, anyhow, " Charles murmured, in atone of relief, beginning to smell a rat. "Will you kindly returnthem to me?" The attaché turned out the contents of the envelope. They proved tobe prospectuses of bubble companies of the moment, of no importance. "Medhurst must have put them there, " I cried, "and decamped with thecash. " Charles gave a groan of horror. "And Medhurst is Colonel Clay!" heexclaimed, clapping his hand to his forehead. "I beg your pardon, sir, " the Colonel interposed. "I have but onepersonality, and no aliases. " It took quite half an hour to explain this imbroglio. But as soon asall was explained, in French and English, to the satisfaction ofourselves and the juge d'instruction, the real Colonel shook handswith us in a most forgiving way, and informed us that he had morethan once wondered, when he gave his name at shops in Paris, whyit was often received with such grave suspicion. We instructedthe police that the true culprit was Medhurst, whom they had seenwith their own eyes, and whom we urged them to pursue with allexpedition. Meanwhile, Charles and I, accompanied by the Coloneland the attaché--"to see the fun out, " as they said--called at theBank of France for the purpose of stopping the notes immediately. Itwas too late, however. They had been presented at once, and cashedin gold, by a pleasant little lady in an American costume, who wasafterwards identified by the hotel-keeper (from our description) ashis lodger, Mme. Picardet. It was clear she had taken rooms in thesame hotel, to be near the Indian Colonel; and it was _she_ who hadreceived and sent the letters. As for our foe, he had vanished intospace, as always. Two days later we received the usual insulting communication on asheet of Charles's own dainty note. Last time he wrote it was onCraig-Ellachie paper: this time, like the wanton lapwing, he had gothimself another crest. "MOST PERSPICACIOUS OF MILLIONAIRES!--Said I not well, asMedhurst, that you must distrust everybody? And the one manyou never dreamt of distrusting was--Medhurst. Yet see howtruthful I was! I told you I knew where Colonel Clay wasliving--and I _did_ know, exactly. I promised to take you toColonel Clay's rooms, and to get him arrested for you--andI kept my promise. I even exceeded your expectations; forI gave you _two_ Colonel Clays instead of one--and you tookthe wrong man--that is to say, the real one. This was a neatlittle trick; but it cost me some trouble. "First, I found out there _was_ a real Colonel Clay, in theIndian Army. I also found out he chanced to be coming home onleave this season. I might have made more out of him, no doubt;but I disliked annoying him, and preferred to give myself thefun of this peculiar mystification. I therefore waited for himto reach Paris, where the police arrangements suited me betterthan in London. While I was looking about, and delayingoperations for his return, I happened to hear you wanted adetective. So I offered myself as out of work to my oldemployer, Marvillier, from whom I have had many good jobs in thepast; and there you get, in short, the kernel of the Colonel. "Naturally, after this, I can never go back as a detectiveto Marvillier's. But, on the large scale on which I havelearned to work since I first had the pleasure of makingyour delightful acquaintance, this matters little. To saythe truth, I begin to feel detective work a cut or two belowme. I am now a gentleman of means and leisure. Besides, theextra knowledge of your movements which I have acquired inyour house has helped still further to give me various holdsupon you. So the fluke will be true to his own pet lamb. Tovary the metaphor, you are not fully shorn yet. "Remember me most kindly to your charming family, giveWentworth my love, and tell Mlle. Césarine I owe her a grudgewhich I shall never forget. She clearly suspected me. You aremuch too rich, dear Charles; I relieve your plethora. I bleedyou financially. Therefore I consider myself--Your sincerestfriend, "CLAY-BRABAZON-MEDHURST, "Fellow of the Royal College of Surgeons. " Charles was threatened with apoplexy. This blow was severe. "Whom can I trust, " he asked, plaintively, "when the detectivesthemselves, whom I employ to guard me, turn out to be swindlers?Don't you remember that line in the Latin grammar--something about, 'Who shall watch the watchers?' I think it used to run, 'Quiscustodes custodiet ipsos?'" But I felt this episode had at least disproved my suspicions ofpoor Césarine. VIII THE EPISODE OF THE SELDON GOLD-MINE On our return to London, Charles and Marvillier had a differenceof opinion on the subject of Medhurst. Charles maintained that Marvillier ought to have known the manwith the cropped hair was Colonel Clay, and ought never to haverecommended him. Marvillier maintained that Charles had _seen_Colonel Clay half-a-dozen times, at least, to his own never; andthat my respected brother-in-law had therefore nobody on earthbut himself to blame if the rogue imposed upon him. The headdetective had known Medhurst for ten years, he said, as a mostrespectable man, and even a ratepayer; he had always found him thecleverest of spies, as well he might be, indeed, on the familiarset-a-thief-to-catch-a-thief principle. However, the upshot ofit all was, as usual--nothing. Marvillier was sorry to lose theservices of so excellent a hand; but he had done the very besthe could for Sir Charles, he declared; and if Sir Charles wasnot satisfied, why, he might catch his Colonel Clays for himselfin future. "So I will, Sey, " Charles remarked to me, as we walked back fromthe office in the Strand by Piccadilly. "I won't trust any more tothese private detectives. It's my belief they're a pack of thievesthemselves, in league with the rascals they're set to catch, andwith no more sense of honour than a Zulu diamond-hand. " "Better try the police, " I suggested, by way of being helpful. One must assume an interest in one's employer's business. But Charles shook his head. "No, no, " he said; "I'm sick of allthese fellows. I shall trust in future to my own sagacity. Welearn by experience, Sey--and I've learned a thing or two. One ofthem is this: It's not enough to suspect everybody; you must haveno preconceptions. Divest yourself entirely of every fixed ideaif you wish to cope with a rascal of this calibre. Don't jump atconclusions. We should disbelieve everything, as well as distrusteverybody. That's the road to success; and I mean to pursue it. " So, by way of pursuing it, Charles retired to Seldon. "The longer the man goes on, the worse he grows, " he said to meone morning. "He's just like a tiger that has tasted blood. Everysuccessful haul seems only to make him more eager for another. I fully expect now before long we shall see him down here. " About three weeks later, sure enough, my respected connectionreceived a communication from the abandoned swindler, withan Austrian stamp and a Vienna post-mark. "MY DEAR VANDRIFT. --(After so long and so varied an acquaintancewe may surely drop the absurd formalities of 'Sir Charles' and'Colonel. ') I write to ask you a delicate question. Can you kindlytell me exactly how much I have received from your various generousacts during the last three years? I have mislaid my account-book, and as this is the season for making the income tax return, I amanxious, as an honest and conscientious citizen, to set down myaverage profits out of you for the triennial period. For reasonswhich you will amply understand, I do not this time give my privateaddress, in Paris or elsewhere; but if you will kindly advertisethe total amount, above the signature 'Peter Simple, ' in the AgonyColumn of the Times, you will confer a great favour upon theRevenue Commissioners, and also upon your constant friend andcompanion, CUTHBERT CLAY, "Practical Socialist. " "Mark my word, Sey, " Charles said, laying the letter down, "in aweek or less the man himself will follow. This is his cunning wayof trying to make me think he's well out of the country and faraway from Seldon. That means he's meditating another descent. Buthe told us too much last time, when he was Medhurst the detective. He gave us some hints about disguises and their unmasking that Ishall not forget. This turn I shall be even with him. " On Saturday of that week, in effect, we were walking along the roadthat leads into the village, when we met a gentlemanly-looking man, in a rough and rather happy-go-lucky brown tweed suit, who had theair of a tourist. He was middle-aged, and of middle height; he worea small leather wallet suspended round his shoulder; and he waspeering about at the rocks in a suspicious manner. Something inhis gait attracted our attention. "Good-morning, " he said, looking up as we passed; and Charlesmuttered a somewhat surly inarticulate, "Good-morning. " We went on without saying more. "Well, _that's_ not Colonel Clay, anyhow, " I said, as we got out of earshot. "For he accosted usfirst; and you may remember it's one of the Colonel's most markedpeculiarities that, like the model child, he never speaks till he'sspoken to--never begins an acquaintance. He always waits till wemake the first advance; he doesn't go out of his way to cheat us;he loiters about till we ask him to do it. " "Seymour, " my brother-in-law responded, in a severe tone, "thereyou are, now, doing the very thing I warned you not to do! You'resuccumbing to a preconception. Avoid fixed ideas. The probabilityis this man _is_ Colonel Clay. Strangers are generally scarce atSeldon. If he isn't Colonel Clay, what's he here for, I'd liketo know? What money is there to be made here in any other way?I shall inquire about him. " We dropped in at the Cromarty Arms, and asked good Mrs. M'Lachlanif she could tell us anything about the gentlemanly stranger. Mrs. M'Lachlan replied that he was from London, she believed, a pleasantgentleman enough; and he had his wife with him. "Ha! Young? Pretty?" Charles inquired, with a speaking glance at me. "Weel, Sir Charles, she'll no be exactly what you'd be ca'ing abonny lass, " Mrs. M'Lachlan replied; "but she's a guid body fora' that, an' a fine braw woman. " "Just what I should expect, " Charles murmured, "He varies theprogramme. The fellow has tried White Heather as the parson's wife, and as Madame Picardet, and as squinting little Mrs. Granton, andas Medhurst's accomplice; and now, he has almost exhausted thepossibilities of a disguise for a really young and pretty woman;so he's playing her off at last as the riper product--a handsomematron. Clever, extremely clever; but--we begin to see through him. "And he chuckled to himself quietly. Next day, on the hillside, we came upon our stranger again, occupied as before in peering into the rocks, and sounding themwith a hammer. Charles nudged me and whispered, "I have it thistime. He's posing as a geologist. " I took a good look at the man. By now, of course, we had someexperience of Colonel Clay in his various disguises; and I couldobserve that while the nose, the hair, and the beard were varied, the eyes and the build remained the same as ever. He was a triflestouter, of course, being got up as a man of between forty andfifty; and his forehead was lined in a way which a less consummateartist than Colonel Clay could easily have imitated. But I felt wehad at least some grounds for our identification; it would not doto dismiss the suggestion of Clayhood at once as a flight of fancy. His wife was sitting near, upon a bare boss of rock, reading avolume of poems. Capital variant, that, a volume of poems! Exactlysuited the selected type of a cultivated family. White Heather andMrs. Granton never used to read poems. But that was characteristicof all Colonel Clay's impersonations, and Mrs. Clay's too--for Isuppose I must call her so. They were not mere outer disguises;they were finished pieces of dramatic study. Those two people werean actor and actress, as well as a pair of rogues; and in boththeir rôles they were simply inimitable. As a rule, Charles is by no means polite to casual trespassers onthe Seldon estate; they get short shrift and a summary ejection. But on this occasion he had a reason for being courteous, and heapproached the lady with a bow of recognition. "Lovely day, " hesaid, "isn't it? Such belts on the sea, and the heather smellssweet. You are stopping at the inn, I fancy?" "Yes, " the lady answered, looking up at him with a charming smile. ("I know that smile, " Charles whispered to me. "I have succumbed toit too often. ") "We're stopping at the inn, and my husband is doinga little geology on the hill here. I hope Sir Charles Vandrift won'tcome and catch us. He's so down upon trespassers. They tell us atthe inn he's a regular Tartar. " ("Saucy minx as ever, " Charles murmured to me. "She said it onpurpose. ") "No, my dear madam, " he continued, aloud; "you havebeen quite misinformed. _I_ am Sir Charles Vandrift; and I am _not_a Tartar. If your husband is a man of science I respect and admirehim. It is geology that has made me what I am to-day. " And he drewhimself up proudly. "We owe to it the present development of SouthAfrican mining. " The lady blushed as one seldom sees a mature woman blush--butexactly as I had seen Madame Picardet and White Heather. "Oh, I'mso sorry, " she said, in a confused way that recalled Mrs. Granton. "Forgive my hasty speech. I--I didn't know you. " ("She did, " Charles whispered. "But let that pass. ") "Oh, don'tthink of it again; so many people disturb the birds, don't you know, that we're obliged in self-defence to warn trespassers sometimes offour lovely mountains. But I do it with regret--with profound regret. I admire the--er--the beauties of Nature myself; and, therefore, I desire that all others should have the freest possible accessto them--possible, that is to say, consistently with the superiorclaims of Property. " "I see, " the lady replied, looking up at him quaintly. "I admireyour wish, though not your reservation. I've just been readingthose sweet lines of Wordsworth's-- And O, ye fountains, meadows, hills, and groves, Forebode not any severing of our loves. I suppose you know them?" And she beamed on him pleasantly. "Know them?" Charles answered. "Know them! Oh, of course, I knowthem. They're old favourites of mine--in fact, I adore Wordsworth. "(I doubt whether Charles has ever in his life read a line of poetry, except Doss Chiderdoss in the Sporting Times. ) He took the bookand glanced at them. "Ah, charming, charming!" he said, in his mostecstatic tone. But his eyes were on the lady, and not on the poet. I saw in a moment how things stood. No matter under what disguisethat woman appeared to him, and whether he recognised her or not, Charles couldn't help falling a victim to Madame Picardet'sattractions. Here he actually suspected her; yet, like a mothround a candle, he was trying his hardest to get his wings singed!I almost despised him with his gigantic intellect! The greatestmen are the greatest fools, I verily believe, when there's a womanin question. The husband strolled up by this time, and entered into conversationwith us. According to his own account, his name was Forbes-Gaskell, and he was a Professor of Geology in one of those new-fanglednorthern colleges. He had come to Seldon rock-spying, he said, andfound much to interest him. He was fond of fossils, but his specialhobby was rocks and minerals. He knew a vast deal about cairngormsand agates and such-like pretty things, and showed Charles quartzand felspar and red cornelian, and I don't know what else, in thecrags on the hillside. Charles pretended to listen to him with thedeepest interest and even respect, never for a moment letting himguess he knew for what purpose this show of knowledge had beenrecently acquired. If we were ever to catch the man, we must notallow him to see we suspected him. So Charles played a dark game. He swallowed the geologist whole without question. Most of that morning we spent with them on the hillside. Charlestook them everywhere and showed them everything. He pretended to bepolite to the scientific man, and he was really polite, most polite, to the poetical lady. Before lunch time we had become quite friends. The Clays were always easy people to get on with; and, bar theirroguery, we could not deny they were delightful companions. Charlesasked them in to lunch. They accepted willingly. He introduced themto Amelia with sundry raisings of his eyebrows and contortionsof his mouth. "Professor and Mrs. Forbes-Gaskell, " he said, half-dislocating his jaw with his violent efforts. "They're stoppingat the inn, dear. I've been showing them over the place, and they'regood enough to say they'll drop in and take a share in our coldroast mutton;" which was a frequent form of Charles's pleasantry. Amelia sent them upstairs to wash their hands--which, in theProfessor's case, was certainly desirable, for his fingers weregrimed with earth and dust from the rocks he had been investigating. As soon as we were left alone Charles drew me into the library. "Seymour, " he said, "more than ever there is a need for us strictlyto avoid preconceptions. We must not make up our minds that this manis Colonel Clay--nor, again, that he isn't. We must remember that wehave been mistaken in _both_ ways in the past, and must avoid ourold errors. I shall hold myself in readiness for either event--anda policeman in readiness to arrest them, if necessary!" "A capital plan, " I murmured. "Still, if I may venture a suggestion, in what way are these two people endeavouring to entrap us? Theyhave no scheme on hand--no schloss, no amalgamation. " "Seymour, " my brother-in-law answered in his board-room style, "youare a great deal too previous, as Medhurst used to say--I mean, Colonel Clay in his character as Medhurst. In the first place, theseare early days; our friends have not yet developed their intentions. We may find before long they have a property to sell, or a companyto promote, or a concession to exploit in South Africa or elsewhere. Then again, in the second place, we don't always spot the exactnature of their plan until it has burst in our hands, so to speak, and revealed its true character. What could have seemed moretransparent than Medhurst, the detective, till he ran away with ournotes in the very moment of triumph? What more innocent than WhiteHeather and the little curate, till they landed us with a coupleof Amelia's own gems as a splendid bargain? I will not take it forgranted _any_ man is not Colonel Clay, merely because I don't happento spot the particular scheme he is trying to work against me. Therogue has so many schemes, and some of them so well concealed, thatup to the moment of the actual explosion you fail to detect thepresence of moral dynamite. Therefore, I shall proceed as if therewere dynamite everywhere. But in the third place--and this is _very_important--you mark my words, I believe I detect already the lineshe will work upon. He's a geologist, he says, with a taste forminerals. Very good. You see if he doesn't try to persuade me beforelong he has found a coal mine, whose locality he will disclose fora trifling consideration; or else he will salt the Long Mountainwith emeralds, and claim a big share for helping to discover them;or else he will try something in the mineralogical line to _do_ mesomehow. I see it in the very transparency of the fellow's face;and I'm determined this time neither to pay him one farthing onany pretext, nor to let him escape me!" We went in to lunch. The Professor and Mrs. Forbes-Gaskell, allsmiles, accompanied us. I don't know whether it was Charles'swarning to take nothing for granted that made me do so--but I kepta close eye upon the suspected man all the time we were at table. It struck me there was something very odd about his hair. Itdidn't seem quite the same colour all over. The locks that hungdown behind, over the collar of his coat, were a trifle lighter anda trifle grayer than the black mass that covered the greater partof his head. I examined it carefully. The more I did so, the morethe conviction grew upon me: he was wearing a wig. There was nodenying it! A trifle less artistic, perhaps, than most of Colonel Clay'sget-ups; but then, I reflected (on Charles's principle of takingnothing for granted), we had never before suspected Colonel Clayhimself, except in the one case of the Honourable David, whose redhair and whiskers even Madame Picardet had admitted to be absurdlyfalse by her action of pointing at them and tittering irrepressibly. It was possible that in every case, if we had scrutinised our manclosely, we should have found that the disguise betrayed itselfat once (as Medhurst had suggested) to an acute observer. The detective, in fact, had told us too much. I remembered what hesaid to us about knocking off David Granton's red wig the momentwe doubted him; and I positively tried to help myself awkwardlyto potato-chips, when the footman offered them, so as to hit thesupposed wig with an apparently careless brush of my elbow. Butit was of no avail. The fellow seemed to anticipate or suspect myintention, and dodged aside carefully, like one well accustomedto saving his disguise from all chance of such real or seemingaccidents. I was so full of my discovery that immediately after lunch I inducedIsabel to take our new friends round the home garden and show themCharles's famous prize dahlias, while I proceeded myself to narrateto Charles and Amelia my observations and my frustrated experiment. "It _is_ a wig, " Amelia assented. "_I_ spotted it at once. A verygood wig, too, and most artistically planted. Men don't notice thesethings, though women do. It is creditable to you, Seymour, to havesucceeded in detecting it. " Charles was less complimentary. "You fool, " he answered, with thatunpleasant frankness which is much too common with him. "Supposingit _is_, why on earth should you try to knock it off and disclosehim? What good would it have done? If it _is_ a wig, and we spot it, that's all that we need. We are put on our guard; we know with whomwe have now to deal. But you can't take a man up on a charge ofwig-wearing. The law doesn't interfere with it. Most respectable menmay sometimes wear wigs. Why, I knew a promoter who did, and alsothe director of fourteen companies! What we have to do next is, waittill he tries to cheat us, and then--pounce down upon him. Sooneror later, you may be sure, his plans will reveal themselves. " So we concocted an excellent scheme to keep them under constantobservation, lest they should slip away again, as they did from theisland. First of all, Amelia was to ask them to come and stop at thecastle, on the ground that the rooms at the inn were uncomfortablysmall. We felt sure, however, that, as on a previous occasion, they would refuse the invitation, in order to be able to slinkoff unperceived, in case they should find themselves apparentlysuspected. Should they decline, it was arranged that Césarine shouldtake a room at the Cromarty Arms as long as they stopped there, andreport upon their movements; while, during the day, we would havethe house watched by the head gillie's son, a most intelligentyoung man, who could be trusted, with true Scotch canniness, tosay nothing to anybody. To our immense surprise, Mrs. Forbes-Gaskell accepted the invitationwith the utmost alacrity. She was profuse in her thanks, indeed; forshe told us the Arms was an ill-kept house, and the cookery by nomeans agreed with her husband's liver. It was sweet of us to invitethem; such kindness to perfect strangers was quite unexpected. Sheshould always say that nowhere on earth had she met with so cordialor friendly a reception as at Seldon Castle. But--she accepted, unreservedly. "It _can't_ be Colonel Clay, " I remarked to Charles. "He would neverhave come here. Even as David Granton, with far more reason forcoming, he wouldn't put himself in our power: he preferred thesecurity and freedom of the Cromarty Arms. " "Sey, " my brother-in-law said sententiously, "you're incorrigible. You _will_ persist in being the slave of prepossessions. He mayhave some good reason of his own for accepting. Wait till he showshis hand--and then, we shall understand everything. " So for the next three weeks the Forbes-Gaskells formed part of thehouse-party at Seldon. I must say, Charles paid them most assiduousattention. He positively neglected his other guests in order to keepclose to the two new-comers. Mrs. Forbes-Gaskell noticed the fact, and commented on it. "You are really too good to us, Sir Charles, "she said. "I'm afraid you allow us quite to monopolise you!" But Charles, gallant as ever, replied with a smile, "We haveyou with us for so short a time, you know!" Which made Mrs. Forbes-Gaskell blush again that delicious blush of hers. During all this time the Professor went on calmly and persistentlymineralogising. "Wonderful character!" Charles said to me. "He worksout his parts so well! Could anything exceed the picture he givesone of scientific ardour?" And, indeed, he was at it, morning, noon, and night. "Sooner or later, " Charles observed, "something practicalmust come of it. " Twice, meanwhile, little episodes occurred which are well worthnotice. One day I was out with the Professor on the Long Mountain, watching him hammer at the rocks, and a little bored by hisperformance, when, to pass the time, I asked him what a particularsmall water-worn stone was. He looked at it and smiled. "If therewere a little more mica in it, " he said, "it would be thecharacteristic gneiss of ice-borne boulders, hereabouts. Butthere isn't _quite_ enough. " And he gazed at it curiously. "Indeed, " I answered, "it doesn't come up to sample, doesn't it?" He gave me a meaning look. "Ten per cent, " he murmured in a slow, strange voice; "ten per cent is more usual. " I trembled violently. Was he bent, then, upon ruining me? "If youbetray me--" I cried, and broke off. "I beg your pardon, " he said. He was all pure innocence. I reflected on what Charles had said about taking nothing forgranted, and held my tongue prudently. The other incident was this. Charles picked a sprig of white heatheron the hill one afternoon, after a picnic lunch, I regret to say, when he had taken perhaps a glass more champagne than was strictlygood for him. He was not exactly the worse for it, but he wasexcited, good-humoured, reckless, and lively. He brought the sprigto Mrs. Forbes-Gaskell, and handed it to her, ogling a little. "Sweets to the sweet, " he murmured, and looked at her meaningly. "White heather to White Heather. " Then he saw what he had done, and checked himself instantly. Mrs. Forbes-Gaskell coloured up in the usual manner. "I--I don'tquite understand, " she faltered. Charles scrambled out of it somehow. "White heather for luck, " hesaid, "and--the man who is privileged to give a piece of it to youis surely lucky. " She smiled, none too well pleased. I somehow felt she suspected usof suspecting her. However, as it turned out, nothing came, after all, of the untowardincident. Next day Charles burst upon me, triumphant. "Well, he has shownhis hand!" he cried. "I knew he would. He has come to me to-daywith--what do you think?--a fragment of gold, in quartz, from theLong Mountain. " "No!" I exclaimed. "Yes, " Charles answered. "He says there's a vein there with distinctspecks of gold in it, which might be worth mining. When a man begins_that_ way you know what he's driving at! And what's more, he's gotup the subject beforehand; for he began saying to me there had longbeen gold in Sutherlandshire--why not therefore in Ross-shire?And then he went at full into the comparative geology of the tworegions. " "This is serious, " I said. "What will you do?" "Wait and watch, " Charles answered; "and the moment he develops aproposal for shares in the syndicate to work the mine, or a sum ofmoney down as the price of his discovery--get in the police, andarrest him. " For the next few days the Professor was more active and ardent thanever. He went peering about the rocks on every side with his hammer. He kept on bringing in little pieces of stone, with gold specksstuck in them, and talking learnedly of the "probable cost ofcrushing and milling. " Charles had heard all that before; inpoint of fact, he had assisted at the drafting of some dozens ofprospectuses. So he took no notice, and waited for the man with thewig to develop his proposals. He knew they would come soon; and hewatched and waited. But, of course, to draw him on he pretended tobe interested. While we were all in this attitude of mind, attending on Providenceand Colonel Clay, we happened to walk down by the shore one day, inthe opposite direction from the Seamew's island. Suddenly we cameupon the Professor linked arm-in-arm with--Sir Adolphus Cordery!They were wrapped in deep talk, and appeared to be most amicable. Now, naturally, relations had been a trifle strained between SirAdolphus and the house of Vandrift since the incident of the Slump;but under the present circumstances, and with such a matter at stakeas the capture of Colonel Clay, it was necessary to overlook allsuch minor differences. So Charles managed to disengage theProfessor from his friend, sent Amelia on with Forbes-Gaskelltowards the castle, and stopped behind, himself, with Sir Adolphusand me, to clear up the question. "Do you know this man, Cordery?" he asked, with some littlesuspicion. "Know him? Why, of course I do, " Sir Adolphus answered. "He'sMarmaduke Forbes-Gaskell, of the Yorkshire College, a verydistinguished man of science. First-rate mineralogist--perhapsthe best (_but_ one) in England. " Modesty forbade him to name theexception. "But are you sure it's he?" Charles inquired, with growingdoubt. "Have you known him before? This isn't a second case ofSchleiermachering me, is it?" "Sure it's he?" Sir Adolphus echoed. "Am I sure of myself? Why, I'veknown Marmy Gaskell ever since we were at Trinity together. Knew himbefore he married Miss Forbes of Glenluce, my wife's second cousin, and hyphened his name with hers, to keep the property in the family. Know them both most intimately. Came down here to the inn because Iheard that Marmy was on the prowl among these hills, and I thought hehad probably something good to prowl after--in the way of fossils. " "But the man wears a wig!" Charles expostulated. "Of course, " Cordery answered. "He's as bald as a bat--in front atleast--and he wears a wig to cover his baldness. " "It's disgraceful, " Charles exclaimed; "disgraceful--taking us inlike that. " And he grew red as a turkey-cock. Sir Adolphus has no delicacy. He burst out laughing. "Oh, I see, " he cried out, simply bursting with amusement. "Youthought Forbes-Gaskell was Colonel Clay in disguise! Oh, my stars, what a lovely one!" "_You_, at least, have no right to laugh, " Charles responded, drawinghimself up and growing still redder. "You led me once into asimilar scrape, and then backed out of it in a way unbecoming agentleman. Besides, " he went on, getting angrier at each word, "this fellow, whoever he is, has been trying to cheat me on hisown account. Colonel Clay or no Colonel Clay, he's been salting myrocks with gold-bearing quartz, and trying to lead me on into anabsurd speculation!" Sir Adolphus exploded. "Oh, this is too good, " he cried. "I mustgo and tell Marmy!" And he rushed off to where Forbes-Gaskell wasseated on a corner of rock with Amelia. As for Charles and myself, we returned to the house. Half an hourlater Forbes-Gaskell came back, too, in a towering temper. "What is the meaning of this, sir?" he shouted out, as soon ashe caught sight of Charles. "I'm told you've invited my wifeand myself here to your house in order to spy upon us, under theimpression that I was Clay, the notorious swindler!" "I thought you were, " Charles answered, equally angry. "Perhaps youmay be still! Anyhow, you're a rogue, and you tried to bamboozleme!" Forbes-Gaskell, white with rage, turned to his trembling wife. "Gertrude, " he said, "pack up your box and come away from thesepeople instantly. Their pretended hospitality has been a studiedinsult. They've put you and me in a most ridiculous position. Wewere told before we came here--and no doubt with truth--that SirCharles Vandrift was the most close-fisted and tyrannical oldcurmudgeon in Scotland. We've been writing to all our friends tosay ecstatically that he was, on the contrary, a most hospitable, generous, and large-hearted gentleman. And now we find out he's adisgusting cad, who asks strangers to his house from the meanestmotives, and then insults his guests with gratuitous vituperation. It is well such people should hear the plain truth now and again intheir lives; and it therefore gives me the greatest pleasure to tellSir Charles Vandrift that he's a vulgar bounder of the first water. Go and pack your box, Gertrude! I'll run down to the Cromarty Arms, and order a cab to carry us away at once from this inhospitablesham castle. " "You wear a wig, sir; you wear a wig, " Charles exclaimed, half-choking with passion. For, indeed, as Forbes-Gaskell spoke, and tossed his head angrily, the nature of his hair-covering grewpainfully apparent. It was quite one-sided. "I do, sir, that I may be able to shake it in the face of a cad!"the Professor responded, tearing it off to readjust it; and, suitingthe action to the word, he brandished it thrice in Charles's eyes;after which he darted from the room, speechless with indignation. As soon as they were gone, and Charles had recovered breathsufficiently to listen to rational conversation, I ventured toobserve, "This comes of being too sure! We made one mistake. Wetook it for granted that because a man wears a wig, he _must_ bean impostor--which does not necessarily follow. We forgot that notColonel Clays alone have false coverings to their heads, and thatwigs may sometimes be worn from motives of pure personal vanity. In fact, we were again the slaves of preconceptions. " I looked at him pointedly. Charles rose before he replied. "SeymourWentworth, " he said at last, gazing down upon me with lofty scorn, "your moralising is ill-timed. It appears to me you entirelymisunderstand the position and duties of a private secretary!" The oddest part of it all, however, was this--that Charles, beingconvinced Forbes-Gaskell, though he wasn't Colonel Clay, had beenfraudulently salting the rocks with gold, with intent to deceive, took no further notice of the alleged discoveries. The consequencewas that Forbes-Gaskell and Sir Adolphus went elsewhere with thesecret; and it was not till after Charles had sold the SeldonCastle estate (which he did shortly afterward, the place havingsomehow grown strangely distasteful to him) that the present"Seldon Eldorados, Limited, " were put upon the market by LordCraig-Ellachie, who purchased the place from him. Forbes-Gaskell, as it happened, had reported to Craig-Ellachie that he had founda lode of high-grade ore on an estate unnamed, which he wouldparticularise on promise of certain contingent claims to founder'sshares; and the old lord jumped at it. Charles sold at grouse-moorprices; and the consequence is that the capital of the Eldoradosis yielding at present very fair returns, even after allowing forexpenses of promotion--while Charles has been done out of a goodthing in gold-mines! But, remembering "the position and duties of a private secretary, "I refrained from pointing out to him at the time that this loss wasdue to a fixed idea--though as a matter of fact it depended uponCharles's strange preconception that the man with the wig, whoeverhe might be, was trying to diddle him. IX THE EPISODE OF THE JAPANNED DISPATCH-BOX "Sey, " my brother-in-law said next spring, "I'm sick and tiredof London! Let's shoulder our wallets at once, and I will tosome distant land, where no man doth me know. " "Mars or Mercury?" I inquired; "for, in our own particular planet, I'm afraid you'll find it just a trifle difficult for Sir CharlesVandrift to hide his light under a bushel. " "Oh, I'll manage it, " Charles answered. "What's the good of beinga millionaire, I should like to know, if you're always obliged to'behave as sich'? I shall travel incog. I'm dog-tired of beingdogged by these endless impostors. " And, indeed, we had passed through a most painful winter. ColonelClay had stopped away for some months, it is true, and for my ownpart, I will confess, since it wasn't _my_ place to pay the piper, Irather missed the wonted excitement than otherwise. But Charles hadgrown horribly and morbidly suspicious. He carried out his principleof "distrusting everybody and disbelieving everything, " till lifewas a burden to him. He spotted impossible Colonel Clays under athousand disguises; he was quite convinced he had frightened hisenemy away at least a dozen times over, beneath the varying garbof a fat club waiter, a tall policeman, a washerwoman's boy, asolicitor's clerk, the Bank of England beadle, and the collectorof water-rates. He saw him as constantly, and in as changeful forms, as mediæval saints used to see the devil. Amelia and I reallybegan to fear for the stability of that splendid intellect; weforesaw that unless the Colonel Clay nuisance could be abatedsomehow, Charles might sink by degrees to the mental level of acommon or ordinary Stock-Exchange plunger. So, when my brother-in-law announced his intention of going awayincog. To parts unknown, on the succeeding Saturday, Amelia andI felt a flush of relief from long-continued tension. EspeciallyAmelia--who was _not_ going with him. "For rest and quiet, " he said to us at breakfast, laying down theMorning Post, "give _me_ the deck of an Atlantic liner! No letters;no telegrams. No stocks; no shares. No Times; no Saturday. I'm sickof these papers!" "The World is too much with us, " I assented cheerfully. I regretto say, nobody appreciated the point of my quotation. Charles took infinite pains, I must admit, to ensure perfectsecrecy. He made me write and secure the best state-rooms--maindeck, amidships--under my own name, without mentioning his, inthe Etruria, for New York, on her very next voyage. He spoke ofhis destination to nobody but Amelia; and Amelia warned Césarine, under pains and penalties, on no account to betray it to the otherservants. Further to secure his incog. , Charles assumed the styleand title of Mr. Peter Porter, and booked as such in the Etruriaat Liverpool. The day before starting, however, he went down with me to the Cityfor an interview with his brokers in Adam's Court, Old Broad Street. Finglemore, the senior partner, hastened, of course, to receive us. As we entered his private room a good-looking young man rose andlounged out. "Halloa, Finglemore, " Charles said, "that's that scampof a brother of yours! I thought you had shipped him off years andyears ago to China?" "So I did, Sir Charles, " Finglemore answered, rubbing his handssomewhat nervously. "But he never went there. Being an idle youngdog, with a taste for amusement, he got for the time no furtherthan Paris. Since then, he's hung about a bit, here, there, andeverywhere, and done no particular good for himself or his family. But about three or four years ago he somehow 'struck ile': he wentto South Africa, poaching on your preserves; and now he's backagain--rich, married, and respectable. His wife, a nice littlewoman, has reformed him. Well, what can I do for you this morning?" Charles has large interests in America, in Santa Fé and Topekas, andother big concerns; and he insisted on taking out several documentsand vouchers connected in various ways with his widespread venturesthere. He meant to go, he said, for complete rest and change, on ageneral tour of private inquiry--New York, Chicago, Colorado, themining districts. It was a millionaire's holiday. So he took allthese valuables in a black japanned dispatch-box, which he guardedlike a child with absurd precautions. He never allowed that box outof his sight one moment; and he gave me no peace as to its safetyand integrity. It was a perfect fetish. "We must be cautious, " hesaid, "Sey, cautious! Especially in travelling. Recollect how thatlittle curate spirited the diamonds out of Amelia's jewel-case! Ishall not let this box out of my sight. I shall stick to it myself, if we go to the bottom. " We did _not_ go to the bottom. It is the proud boast of the CunardCompany that it has "never lost a passenger's life"; and the captainwould not consent to send the Etruria to Davy Jones's locker, merelyin order to give Charles a chance of sticking to his dispatch-boxunder trying circumstances. On the contrary, we had a delightfuland uneventful passage; and we found our fellow-passengers mostagreeable people. Charles, as Mr. Peter Porter, being freed forthe moment from his terror of Colonel Clay, would have felt reallyhappy, I believe--had it not been for the dispatch-box. He madefriends from the first hour (quite after the fearless old fashionof the days before Colonel Clay had begun to embitter life for him)with a nice American doctor and his charming wife, on their way backto Kentucky. Dr. Elihu Quackenboss--that was his characteristicallyAmerican name--had been studying medicine for a year in Vienna, andwas now returning to his native State with a brain close crammedwith all the latest bacteriological and antiseptic discoveries. Hiswife, a pretty and piquant little American, with a tip-tilted noseand the quaint sharpness of her countrywomen, amused Charles not alittle. The funny way in which she would make room for him by herside on the bench on deck, and say, with a sweet smile, "You sitright here, Mr. Porter; the sun's just elegant, " delighted andflattered him. He was proud to find out that female attention wasnot always due to his wealth and title; and that plain Mr. Portercould command on his merits the same amount of blandishments as SirCharles Vandrift, the famous millionaire, on his South Africancelebrity. During the whole of that voyage, it was Mrs. Quackenboss here, andMrs. Quackenboss there, and Mrs. Quackenboss the other place, till, for Amelia's sake, I was glad she was not on board to witness it. Long before we sighted Sandy Hook, I will admit, I was fairly sickof Charles's two-stringed harp--Mrs. Quackenboss and thedispatch-box. Mrs. Quackenboss, it turned out, was an amateur artist, and shepainted Sir Charles, on calm days on deck, in all possibleattitudes. She seemed to find him a most attractive model. The doctor, too, was a precious clever fellow. He knew something ofchemistry--and of most other subjects, including, as I gathered, thehuman character. For he talked to Charles about various ideas ofhis, with which he wished to "liven up folks in Kentucky a bit, " onhis return, till Charles conceived the highest possible regard forhis intelligence and enterprise. "That's a go-ahead fellow, Sey!"he remarked to me one day. "Has the right sort of grit in him!Those Americans are the men. Wish I had a round hundred of them onmy works in South Africa!" That idea seemed to grow upon him. He was immensely taken with it. He had lately dismissed one of his chief superintendents at theCloetedorp mine, and he seriously debated whether or not he shouldoffer the post to the smart Kentuckian. For my own part, I aminclined to connect this fact with his expressed determination tovisit his South African undertakings for three months yearly infuture; and I am driven to suspect he felt life at Cloetedorp wouldbe rendered much more tolerable by the agreeable society of a quaintand amusing American lady. "If you offer it to him, " I said, "remember, you must disclose yourpersonality. " "Not at all, " Charles answered. "I can keep it dark for the present, till all is arranged for. I need only say I have interests in SouthAfrica. " So, one morning on deck, as we were approaching the Banks, hebroached his scheme gently to the doctor and Mrs. Quackenboss. Heremarked that he was connected with one of the biggest financialconcerns in the Southern hemisphere; and that he would pay Elihufifteen hundred a year to represent him at the diggings. "What, dollars?" the lady said, smiling and accentuating thetip-tilted nose a little more. "Oh, Mr. Porter, it ain't goodenough!" "No, pounds, my dear madam, " Charles responded. "Pounds sterling, you know. In United States currency, seven thousand five hundred. " "I guess Elihu would just jump at it, " Mrs. Quackenboss replied, looking at him quizzically. The doctor laughed. "You make a good bid, sir, " he said, in his slowAmerican way, emphasising all the most unimportant words: "_But_ youoverlook one element. I _am_ a man of science, not a speculator. I_have_ trained myself for medical work, _at_ considerable cost, _in_the best schools of Europe, _and_ I do not propose _to_ fling awaythe results _of_ much arduous labour _by_ throwing myself outelastically _into_ a new line of work _for_ which my faculties _may_not perhaps equally adapt me. " ("How thoroughly American!" I murmured, in the background. ) Charles insisted; all in vain. Mrs. Quackenboss was impressed; butthe doctor smiled always a sphinx-like smile, and reiterated hisbelief in the unfitness of mid-stream as an ideal place for swoppinghorses. The more he declined, and the better he talked, the moreeager Charles became each day to secure him. And, as if on purposeto draw him on, the doctor each day gave more and more surprisingproofs of his practical abilities. "I _am_ not a specialist, " he said. "I just ketch the drift, appropriate the kernel, _and_ let the restslide. " He could do anything, it really seemed, from shoeing a mule toconducting a camp-meeting; he was a capital chemist, a very soundsurgeon, a fair judge of horseflesh, a first class euchre player, and a pleasing baritone. When occasion demanded he could occupy apulpit. He had invented a cork-screw which brought him in a smallrevenue; and he was now engaged in the translation of a Polish workon the "Application of Hydrocyanic Acid to the Cure of Leprosy. " Still, we reached New York without having got any nearer our goal, as regarded Dr. Quackenboss. He came to bid us good-bye at the quay, with that sphinx-like smile still playing upon his features. Charlesclutched the dispatch-box with one hand, and Mrs. Quackenboss'slittle palm with the other. "_Don't_ tell us, " he said, "this is good-bye--for ever!" And hisvoice quite faltered. "I guess so, Mr. Porter, " the pretty American replied, with atelling glance. "What hotel do you patronise?" "The Murray Hill, " Charles responded. "Oh my, ain't that odd?" Mrs. Quackenboss echoed. "The Murray Hill!Why, that's just where we're going too, Elihu!" The upshot of which was that Charles persuaded them, beforereturning to Kentucky, to diverge for a few days with us to LakeGeorge and Lake Champlain, where he hoped to over-persuade therecalcitrant doctor. To Lake George therefore we went, and stopped at the excellent hotelat the terminus of the railway. We spent a good deal of our time onthe light little steamers that ply between that point and the roadto Ticonderoga. Somehow, the mountains mirrored in the deep greenwater reminded me of Lucerne; and Lucerne reminded me of the littlecurate. For the first time since we left England a vague terrorseized me. _Could_ Elihu Quackenboss be Colonel Clay again, stilldogging our steps through the opposite continent? I could not help mentioning my suspicion to Charles--who, strangeto say, pooh-poohed it. He had been paying great court to Mrs. Quackenboss that day, and was absurdly elated because the littleAmerican had rapped his knuckles with her fan and called him "areal silly. " Next day, however, an odd thing occurred. We strolled out together, all four of us, along the banks of the lake, among woods justcarpeted with strange, triangular flowers--trilliums, Mrs. Quackenboss called them--and lined with delicate ferns in thefirst green of springtide. I began to grow poetical. (I wrote verses in my youth before I wentto South Africa. ) We threw ourselves on the grass, near a smallmountain stream that descended among moss-clad boulders from thesteep woods above us. The Kentuckian flung himself at full lengthon the sward, just in front of Charles. He had a strange head ofhair, very thick and shaggy. I don't know why, but, of a sudden, itreminded me of the Mexican Seer, whom we had learned to remember asColonel Clay's first embodiment. At the same moment the same thoughtseemed to run through Charles's head; for, strange to say, witha quick impulse he leant forward and examined it. I saw Mrs. Quackenboss draw back in wonder. The hair looked too thick and closefor nature. It ended abruptly, I now remembered, with a sharp lineon the forehead. Could this, too, be a wig? It seemed very probable. Even as I thought that thought, Charles appeared to form a suddenand resolute determination. With one lightning swoop he seized thedoctor's hair in his powerful hand, and tried to lift it off bodily. He had made a bad guess. Next instant the doctor uttered a loud andterrified howl of pain, while several of his hairs, root and all, came out of his scalp in Charles's hand, leaving a few drops ofblood on the skin of the head in the place they were torn from. There was no doubt at all it was not a wig, but the Kentuckian'snatural hirsute covering. The scene that ensued I am powerless to describe. My pen is unequalto it. The doctor arose, not so much angry as astonished, white andincredulous. "What did you do that for, any way?" he asked, glaringfiercely at my brother-in-law. Charles was all abject apology. Hebegan by profusely expressing his regret, and offering to make anysuitable reparation, monetary or otherwise. Then he revealed hiswhole hand. He admitted that he was Sir Charles Vandrift, the famousmillionaire, and that he had suffered egregiously from the endlessmachinations of a certain Colonel Clay, a machiavellian rogue, who had hounded him relentlessly round the capitals of Europe. Hedescribed in graphic detail how the impostor got himself up withwigs and wax, so as to deceive even those who knew him intimately;and then he threw himself on Dr. Quackenboss's mercy, as a man whohad been cruelly taken in so often that he could not help suspectingthe best of men falsely. Mrs. Quackenboss admitted it was natural tohave suspicions--"Especially, " she said, with candour, "as you'renot the first to observe the notable way Elihu's hair seems tooriginate from his forehead, " and she pulled it up to show us. ButElihu himself sulked on in the dumps: his dignity was offended. "_If_ you wanted to know, " he said, "you might as well have asked me. Assault _and_ battery _is_ not the right way to test whether _a_citizen's hair is primitive or acquired. " "It was an impulse, " Charles pleaded; "an instinctive impulse!" "Civilised man restrains his impulses, " the doctor answered. "You_have_ lived too long _in_ South Africa, Mr. Porter--I mean, SirCharles Vandrift, if that's the right way _to_ address such agentleman. You appear to _have_ imbibed the habits _and_ mannersof the Kaffirs you lived among. " For the next two days, I will really admit, Charles seemed morewretched than I could have believed it possible for him to be onsomebody else's account. He positively grovelled. The fact was, he saw he had hurt Dr. Quackenboss's feelings, and--much to mysurprise--he seemed truly grieved at it. If the doctor would haveaccepted a thousand pounds down to shake hands at once and forgetthe incident--in my opinion Charles would have gladly paid it. Indeed, he said as much in other words to the pretty American--forhe could not insult her by offering her money. Mrs. Quackenboss didher best to make it up, for she was a kindly little creature, inspite of her roguishness; but Elihu stood aloof. Charles urged himstill to go out to South Africa, increasing his bait to two thousanda year; yet the doctor was immovable. "No, no, " he said; "I had halfdecided _to_ accept your offer--_till_ that unfortunate impulse; butthat settled the question. _As_ an American citizen, I decline _to_become the representative _of_ a British nobleman who takes such means_of_ investigating questions which affect the hair and happiness _of_his fellow-creatures. " I don't know whether Charles was most disappointed at missing thechance of so clever a superintendent for the mine at Cloetedorp, orelated at the novel description of himself as "a British nobleman;"which is not precisely our English idea of a colonial knighthood. Three days later, accordingly, the Quackenbosses left the LakesideHotel. We were bound on an expedition up the lake ourselves, whenthe pretty little woman burst in with a dash to tell us they wereleaving. She was charmingly got up in the neatest and completest ofAmerican travelling-dresses. Charles held her hand affectionately. "I'm sorry it's good-bye, " he said. "I have done my best to secureyour husband. " "You couldn't have tried harder than I did, " the little womananswered, and the tip-tilted nose looked quite pathetic; "for I justhate to be buried right down there in Kentucky! However, Elihu isthe sort of man a woman can neither drive nor lead; so we've got toput up with him. " And she smiled upon us sweetly, and disappearedfor ever. Charles was disconsolate all that day. Next morning he rose, andannounced his intention of setting out for the West on his tour ofinspection. He would recreate by revelling in Colorado silver lodes. We packed our own portmanteaus, for Charles had not brought evenSimpson with him, and then we prepared to set out by the morningtrain for Saratoga. Up till almost the last moment Charles nursed his dispatch-box. But as the "baggage-smashers" were taking down our luggage, and achambermaid was lounging officiously about in search of a tip, he laid it down for a second or two on the centre table while hecollected his other immediate impedimenta. He couldn't find hiscigarette-case, and went back to the bedroom for it. I helpedhim hunt, but it had disappeared mysteriously. That moment losthim. When we had found the cigarette-case, and returned to thesitting-room--lo, and behold! the dispatch-box was missing!Charles questioned the servants, but none of them had noticed it. He searched round the room--not a trace of it anywhere. "Why, I laid it down here just two minutes ago!" he cried. But itwas not forthcoming. "It'll turn up in time, " I said. "Everything turns up in theend--including Mrs. Quackenboss's nose. " "Seymour, " said my brother-in-law, "your hilarity is inopportune. " To say the truth, Charles was beside himself with anger. He tookthe elevator down to the "Bureau, " as they call it, and complainedto the manager. The manager, a sharp-faced New Yorker, smiled ashe remarked in a nonchalant way that guests with valuables wererequired to leave them in charge of the management, in which casethey were locked up in the safe and duly returned to the depositoron leaving. Charles declared somewhat excitedly that he had beenrobbed, and demanded that nobody should be allowed to leave thehotel till the dispatch-box was discovered. The manager, quite cool, and obtrusively picking his teeth, responded that such tactics mightbe possible in an hotel of the European size, putting up a coupleof hundred guests or so; but that an American house, with over athousand visitors--many of whom came and went daily--could notundertake such a quixotic quest on behalf of a single foreigncomplainant. That epithet, "foreign, " stung Charles to the quick. No Englishmancan admit that he is anywhere a foreigner. "Do you know who I am, sir?" he asked, angrily. "I am Sir Charles Vandrift, of London--amember of the English Parliament. " "You may be the Prince of Wales, " the man answered, "for all I care. You'll get the same treatment as anyone else, in America. But ifyou're Sir Charles Vandrift, " he went on, examining his books, "howdoes it come you've registered as Mr. Peter Porter?" Charles grew red with embarrassment. The difficulty deepened. The dispatch-box, always covered with a leather case, bore on itsinner lid the name "Sir Charles Vandrift, K. C. M. G. , " distinctlypainted in the orthodox white letters. This was a painfulcontretemps: he had lost his precious documents; he had given afalse name; and he had rendered the manager supremely carelesswhether or not he recovered his stolen property. Indeed, seeing hehad registered as Porter, and now "claimed" as Vandrift, the managerhinted in pretty plain language he very much doubted whether therehad ever been a dispatch-box in the matter at all, or whether, ifthere were one, it had ever contained any valuable documents. We spent a wretched morning. Charles went round the hotel, questioning everybody as to whether they had seen his dispatch-box. Most of the visitors resented the question as a personal imputation;one fiery Virginian, indeed, wanted to settle the point then andthere with a six-shooter. Charles telegraphed to New York to preventthe shares and coupons from being negotiated; but his brokerstelegraphed back that, though they had stopped the numbers as faras possible, they did so with reluctance, as they were not aware ofSir Charles Vandrift being now in the country. Charles declared hewouldn't leave the hotel till he recovered his property; and formyself, I was inclined to suppose we would have to remain thereaccordingly for the term of our natural lives--and longer. That night again we spent at the Lakeside Hotel. In the small hoursof the morning, as I lay awake and meditated, a thought brokeacross me. I was so excited by it that I rose and rushed into mybrother-in-law's bedroom. "Charles, Charles!" I exclaimed, "we havetaken too much for granted once more. Perhaps Elihu Quackenbosscarried off your dispatch-box!" "You fool, " Charles answered, in his most unamiable manner (heapplies that word to me with increasing frequency); "is _that_ whatyou've waked me up for? Why, the Quackenbosses left Lake Georgeon Tuesday morning, and I had the dispatch-box in my own handson Wednesday. " "We have only their word for it, " I cried. "Perhaps they stoppedon--and walked off with it afterwards!" "We will inquire to-morrow, " Charles answered. "But I confess Idon't think it was worth waking me up for. I could stake my lifeon that little woman's integrity. " We _did_ inquire next morning--with this curious result: it turnedout that, though the Quackenbosses had left the Lakeside Hotel onTuesday, it was only for the neighbouring Washington House, whichthey quitted on Wednesday morning, taking the same train forSaratoga which Charles and I had intended to go by. Mrs. Quackenbosscarried a small brown paper parcel in her hands--in which, under thecircumstances, we had little difficulty in recognising Charles'sdispatch-box, loosely enveloped. Then I knew how it was done. The chambermaid, loitering about theroom for a tip, was--Mrs. Quackenboss! It needed but an apron totransform her pretty travelling-dress into a chambermaid's costume;and in any of those huge American hotels one chambermaid more orless would pass in the crowd without fear of challenge. "We will follow them on to Saratoga, " Charles cried. "Pay the billat once, Seymour. " "Certainly, " I answered. "Will you give me some money?" Charles clapped his hand to his pockets. "All, all in thedispatch-box, " he murmured. That tied us up another day, till we could get some ready cash fromour agents in New York; for the manager, already most suspicious atthe change of name and the accusation of theft, peremptorily refusedto accept Charles's cheque, or anything else, as he phrased it, except "hard money. " So we lingered on perforce at Lake George inignoble inaction. "Of course, " I observed to my brother-in-law that evening, "ElihuQuackenboss was Colonel Clay. " "I suppose so, " Charles murmured resignedly. "Everybody I meet seemsto be Colonel Clay nowadays--except when I believe they _are_, inwhich case they turn out to be harmless nobodies. But who would havethought it was he after I pulled his hair out? Or after he persistedin his trick, even when I suspected him--which, he told us atSeldon, was against his first principles?" A light dawned upon me again. But, warned by previous ebullitions, I expressed myself this time with becoming timidity. "Charles, "I suggested, "may we not here again have been the slaves of apreconception? We thought Forbes-Gaskell was Colonel Clay--forno better reason than because he wore a wig. We thought ElihuQuackenboss wasn't Colonel Clay--for no better reason than becausehe didn't wear one. But how do we know he _ever_ wears wigs? Isn't itpossible, after all, that those hints he gave us about make-up, whenhe was Medhurst the detective, were framed on purpose, so as tomislead and deceive us? And isn't it possible what he said of hismethods at the Seamew's island that day was similarly designed inorder to hoodwink us?" "That is so obvious, Sey, " my brother-in-law observed, in a mostaggrieved tone, "that I should have thought any secretary worth hissalt would have arrived at it instantly. " I abstained from remarking that Charles himself had not arrived atit even now, until I told him. I thought that to say so would serveno good purpose. So I merely went on: "Well, it seems to me likelythat when he came as Medhurst, with his hair cut short, he wasreally wearing his own natural crop, in its simplest form and ofits native hue. By now it has had time to grow long and bushy. Whenhe was David Granton, no doubt, he clipped it to an intermediatelength, trimmed his beard and moustache, and dyed them all red, toa fine Scotch colour. As the Seer, again, he wore his hair muchthe same as Elihu's; only, to suit the character, more combed andfluffy. As the little curate, he darkened it and plastered it down. As Von Lebenstein, he shaved close, but cultivated his moustache toits utmost dimensions, and dyed it black after the Tyrolese fashion. He need never have had a wig; his own natural hair would throughouthave been sufficient, allowing for intervals. " "You're right, Sey, " my brother-in-law said, growing almostfriendly. "I will do you the justice to admit that's the nearestthing we have yet struck out to an idea for tracking him. " On the Saturday morning a letter arrived which relieved us a littlefrom our momentary tension. It was from our enemy himself--but mostdifferent in tone from his previous bantering communications:-- "Saratoga, Friday. "SIR CHARLES VANDRIFT--Herewith I return your dispatch-box, intact, with the papers untouched. As you will readily observe, it has not even been opened. "You will ask me the reason for this strange conduct. Let me beserious for once, and tell you truthfully. "White Heather and I (for I will stick to Mr. Wentworth'sjudicious sobriquet) came over on the Etruria with you, intending, as usual, to make something out of you. We followedyou to Lake George--for I had 'forced a card, ' after myhabitual plan, by inducing you to invite us, with the fixedintention of playing a particular trick upon you. It formed nopart of our original game to steal your dispatch-box; that Iconsider a simple and elementary trick unworthy the skill of apractised operator. We persisted in the preparations for ourcoup, till you pulled my hair out. Then, to my great surprise, I saw you exhibited a degree of regret and genuine compunctionwith which, till that moment, I could never have credited you. You thought you had hurt my feelings; and you behaved morelike a gentleman than I had previously known you to do. Younot only apologised, but you also endeavoured voluntarily tomake reparation. That produced an effect upon me. You may notbelieve it, but I desisted accordingly from the trick I hadprepared for you. "I might also have accepted your offer to go to South Africa, where I could soon have cleared out, having embezzled thousands. But, then, I should have been in a position of trust andresponsibility--and I am not _quite_ rogue enough to rob youunder those conditions. "Whatever else I am, however, I am not a hypocrite. I donot pretend to be anything more than a common swindler. IfI return you your papers intact, it is only on the sameprinciple as that of the Australian bushranger, who made alady _a present_ of her own watch because she had sung to himand reminded him of England. In other words, he did not takeit from her. In like manner, when I found you had behaved, foronce, like a gentleman, contrary to my expectation, I declinedto go on with the trick I then meditated. Which does not meanto say I may not hereafter play you some other. _That_ willdepend upon your future good behaviour. "Why, then, did I get White Heather to purloin your dispatch-box, with intent to return it? Out of pure lightness of heart? Notso; but in order to let you see I really meant it. If I hadgone off with no swag, and then written you this letter, youwould not have believed me. You would have thought it wasmerely another of my failures. But when I have actually gotall your papers into my hands, and give them up again of myown free will, you must see that I mean it. "I will end, as I began, seriously. My trade has not quitecrushed out of me all germs or relics of better feeling; andwhen I see a millionaire behave like a man, I feel ashamedto take advantage of that gleam of manliness. "Yours, with a tinge of penitence, but still a rogue, CUTHBERT CLAY. " The first thing Charles did on receiving this strange communicationwas to bolt downstairs and inquire for the dispatch-box. It hadjust arrived by Eagle Express Company. Charles rushed up to ourrooms again, opened it feverishly, and counted his documents. Whenhe found them all safe, he turned to me with a hard smile. "Thisletter, " he said, with quivering lips, "I consider still moreinsulting than all his previous ones. " But, for myself, I really thought there was a ring of truth aboutit. Colonel Clay was a rogue, no doubt--a most unblushing rogue;but even a rogue, I believe, has his better moments. And the phrase about the "position of trust and responsibility"touched Charles to the quick, I suppose, in re the Slump inCloetedorp Golcondas. Though, to be sure, it was a hit at me aswell, over the ten per cent commission. X THE EPISODE OF THE GAME OF POKER "Seymour, " my brother-in-law said, with a deep-drawn sigh, as weleft Lake George next day by the Rennselaer and Saratoga Railroad, "no more Peter Porter for me, _if_ you please! I'm sick of disguises. Now that we know Colonel Clay is here in America, they serve nogood purpose; so I may as well receive the social consideration andproper respect to which my rank and position naturally entitle me. " "And which they secure for the most part (except from hotel clerks), even in this republican land, " I answered briskly. For in my humble opinion, for sound copper-bottomed snobbery, registered A1 at Lloyd's, give _me_ the free-born American citizen. We travelled through the States, accordingly, for the next fourmonths, from Maine to California, and from Oregon to Florida, under our own true names, "Confirming the churches, " as Charlesfacetiously put it--or in other words, looking into the managementand control of railways, syndicates, mines, and cattle-ranches. Weinquired about everything. And the result of our investigationsappeared to be, as Charles further remarked, that the Sabeans whoso troubled the sons of Job seemed to have migrated in a body toKansas and Nebraska, and that several thousand head of cattle seemedmysteriously to vanish, à la Colonel Clay, into the pure air of theprairies just before each branding. However, we were fortunate in avoiding the incursions of the Colonelhimself, who must have migrated meanwhile on some enchanted carpetto other happy hunting-grounds. It was chill October before we found ourselves safe back in NewYork, en route for England. So long a term of freedom from theColonel's depredations (as Charles fondly imagined--but I will notanticipate) had done my brother-in-law's health and spirits a worldof good; he was so lively and cheerful that he began to fancy histormentor must have succumbed to yellow fever, then raging in NewOrleans, or eaten himself ill, as we nearly did ourselves, on agenerous mixture of clam-chowder, terrapin, soft-shelled crabs, Jersey peaches, canvas-backed ducks, Catawba wine, winter cherries, brandy cocktails, strawberry-shortcake, ice-creams, corn-dodger, and a judicious brew commonly known as a Colorado corpse-reviver. However that may be, Charles returned to New York in excellenttrim; and, dreading in that great city the wiles of his antagonist, he cheerfully accepted the invitation of his brother millionaire, Senator Wrengold of Nevada, to spend a few days before sailing inthe Senator's magnificent and newly-finished palace at the upperend of Fifth Avenue. "There, at least, I shall be safe, Sey, " he said to me plaintively, with a weary smile. "Wrengold, at any rate, won't try to take mein--except, of course, in the regular way of business. " Boss-Nugget Hall (as it is popularly christened) is perhaps thehandsomest brown stone mansion in the Richardsonian style on allFifth Avenue. We spent a delightful week there. The lines had fallento us in pleasant places. On the night we arrived Wrengold gavea small bachelor party in our honour. He knew Sir Charles wastravelling without Lady Vandrift, and rightly judged he would preferon his first night an informal party, with cards and cigars, insteadof being bothered with the charming, but still somewhat hamperingaddition of female society. The guests that evening were no more than seven, all told, ourselvesincluded--making up, Wrengold said, that perfect number, an octave. He was a nouveau riche himself--the newest of the new--commonlyknown in exclusive old-fashioned New York society as the GildedSquatter; for he "struck his reef" no more than ten years ago; andhe was therefore doubly anxious, after the American style, to be"just dizzy with culture. " In his capacity of Mæcenas, he hadinvited amongst others the latest of English literary arrivals inNew York--Mr. Algernon Coleyard, the famous poet, and leader of theBriar-rose school of West-country fiction. "You know him in London, of course?" he observed to Charles, witha smile, as we waited dinner for our guests. "No, " Charles answered stolidly. "I have not had that honour. We move, you see, in different circles. " I observed by a curious shade which passed over Senator Wrengold'sface that he quite misapprehended my brother-in-law's meaning. Charles wished to convey, of course, that Mr. Coleyard belonged toa mere literary and Bohemian set in London, while he himself movedon a more exalted plane of peers and politicians. But the Senator, better accustomed to the new-rich point of view, understood Charlesto mean that _he_ had not the entrée of that distinguished coterie inwhich Mr. Coleyard posed as a shining luminary. Which naturallymade him rate even higher than before his literary acquisition. At two minutes past the hour the poet entered. Even if we had notbeen already familiar with his portrait at all ages in The StrandMagazine, we should have recognised him at once for a genuine bardby his impassioned eyes, his delicate mouth, the artistic twirl ofone gray lock upon his expansive brow, the grizzled moustache thatgave point and force to the genial smile, and the two white rows ofperfect teeth behind it. Most of our fellow-guests had met Coleyardbefore at a reception given by the Lotus Club that afternoon, forthe bard had reached New York but the previous evening; so Charlesand I were the only visitors who remained to be introduced to him. The lion of the hour was attired in ordinary evening dress, withno foppery of any kind, but he wore in his buttonhole a daintyblue flower whose name I do not know; and as he bowed distantly toCharles, whom he surveyed through his eyeglass, the gleam of a bigdiamond in the middle of his shirt-front betrayed the fact that theBriar-rose school, as it was called (from his famous epic), had atleast succeeded in making money out of poetry. He explained to us alittle later, in fact, that he was over in New York to look afterhis royalties. "The beggars, " he said, "only gave me eight hundredpounds on my last volume. I couldn't stand _that_, you know; for amodern bard, moving with the age, can only sing when duly wound up;so I've run across to investigate. Put a penny in the slot, don'tyou see, and the poet will pipe for you. " "Exactly like myself, " Charles said, finding a point in common. "_I'm_ interested in mines; and I, too, have come over to lookafter my royalties. " The poet placed his eyeglass in his eye once more, and surveyedCharles deliberately from head to foot. "Oh, " he murmured slowly. Hesaid not a word more; but somehow, everybody felt that Charles wasdemolished. I saw that Wrengold, when we went in to dinner, hastilyaltered the cards that marked their places. He had evidently putCharles at first to sit next the poet; he varied that arrangementnow, setting Algernon Coleyard between a railway king and a magazineeditor. I have seldom seen my respected brother-in-law so completelysilenced. The poet's conduct during dinner was most peculiar. He kept quotingpoetry at inopportune moments. "Roast lamb or boiled turkey, sir?" said the footman. "Mary had a little lamb, " said the poet. "I shall imitate Mary. " Charles and the Senator thought the remark undignified. After dinner, however, under the mellowing influence of someexcellent Roederer, Charles began to expand again, and grew livelyand anecdotal. The poet had made us all laugh not a little withvarious capital stories of London literary society--at least two ofthem, I think, new ones; and Charles was moved by generous emulationto contribute his own share to the amusement of the company. He wasin excellent cue. He is not often brilliant; but when he chooses, hehas a certain dry vein of caustic humour which is decidedly funny, though not perhaps strictly without being vulgar. On this particularnight, then, warmed with the admirable Wrengold champagne--thebest made in America--he launched out into a full and embroidereddescription of the various ways in which Colonel Clay had deceivedhim. I will not say that he narrated them in full with the samefrankness and accuracy that I have shown in these pages; hesuppressed not a few of the most amusing details--on no otherground, apparently, than because they happened to tell againsthimself; and he enlarged a good deal on the surprising clevernesswith which several times he had nearly secured his man; but still, making all allowances for native vanity in concealment and addition, he was distinctly funny--he represented the matter for once in itsludicrous rather than in its disastrous aspect. He observed also, looking around the table, that after all he had lost less byColonel Clay in four years of persecution than he often lost byone injudicious move in a single day on the London Stock Exchange;while he seemed to imply to the solid men of New York, that hewould cheerfully sacrifice such a fleabite as that, in return forthe amusement and excitement of the chase which the Colonel hadafforded him. The poet was pleased. "You are a man of spirit, Sir Charles, " hesaid. "I love to see this fine old English admiration of pluck andadventure! The fellow must really have some good in him, after all. I should like to take notes of a few of those stories; they wouldsupply nice material for basing a romance upon. " "I hardly know whether I'm exactly the man to make the hero of anovel, " Charles murmured, with complacence. And he certainly didn'tlook it. "_I_ was thinking rather of Colonel Clay as the hero, " the poetresponded coldly. "Ah, that's the way with you men of letters, " Charles answered, growing warm. "You always have a sneaking sympathy with the rascals. " "That may be better, " Coleyard retorted, in an icy voice, "thansympathy with the worst forms of Stock Exchange speculation. " The company smiled uneasily. The railway king wriggled. Wrengoldtried to change the subject hastily. But Charles would not be putdown. "You must hear the end, though, " he said. "That's not quite theworst. The meanest thing about the man is that he's also ahypocrite. He wrote me _such_ a letter at the end of his lasttrick--here, positively here, in America. " And he proceeded to givehis own version of the Quackenboss incident, enlivened with sundryimaginative bursts of pure Vandrift fancy. When Charles spoke of Mrs. Quackenboss the poet smiled. "The worstof married women, " he said, "is--that you can't marry them; theworst of unmarried women is--that they want to marry you. " But whenit came to the letter, the poet's eye was upon my brother-in-law. Charles, I must fain admit, garbled the document sadly. Still, evenso, some gleam of good feeling remained in its sentences. ButCharles ended all by saying, "So, to crown his misdemeanours, therascal shows himself a whining cur and a disgusting Pharisee. " "Don't you think, " the poet interposed, in his cultivated drawl, "hemay have really meant it? Why should not some grain of compunctionhave stirred his soul still?--some remnant of conscience made himshrink from betraying a man who confided in him? I have an idea, myself, that even the worst of rogues have always some good in them. I notice they often succeed to the end in retaining the affectionand fidelity of women. " "Oh, I said so!" Charles sneered. "I told you you literary men havealways an underhand regard for a scoundrel. " "Perhaps so, " the poet answered. "For we are all of us human. Lethim that is without sin among us cast the first stone. " And then herelapsed into moody silence. We rose from table. Cigars went round. We adjourned to thesmoking-room. It was a Moorish marvel, with Oriental hangings. There, Senator Wrengold and Charles exchanged reminiscences ofbonanzas and ranches and other exciting post-prandial topics; whilethe magazine editor cut in now and again with a pertinent inquiryor a quaint and sarcastic parallel instance. It was clear he had aneye to future copy. Only Algernon Coleyard sat brooding and silent, with his chin on one hand, and his brow intent, musing and gazing atthe embers in the fireplace. The hand, by the way, was remarkablefor a curious, antique-looking ring, apparently of Egyptian orEtruscan workmanship, with a projecting gem of several large facets. Once only, in the midst of a game of whist, he broke out with asingle comment. "Hawkins was made an earl, " said Charles, speaking of some Londonacquaintance. "What for?" asked the Senator. "Successful adulteration, " said the poet tartly. "Honours are easy, " the magazine editor put in. "And two by tricks to Sir Charles, " the poet added. Towards the close of the evening, however--the poet still remainingmoody, not to say positively grumpy--Senator Wrengold proposed afriendly game of Swedish poker. It was the latest fashionablevariant in Western society on the old gambling round, and few of usknew it, save the omniscient poet and the magazine editor. It turnedout afterwards that Wrengold proposed that particular game becausehe had heard Coleyard observe at the Lotus Club the same afternoonthat it was a favourite amusement of his. Now, however, for a whilehe objected to playing. He was a poor man, he said, and the restwere all rich; why should he throw away the value of a dozen goldensonnets just to add one more pinnacle to the gilded roofs of amillionaire's palace? Besides, he was half-way through with an odehe was inditing to Republican simplicity. The pristine austerityof a democratic senatorial cottage had naturally inspired him withmemories of Dentatus, the Fabii, Camillus. But Wrengold, dimly awarehe was being made fun of somehow, insisted that the poet must takea hand with the financiers. "You can pass, you know, " he said, "asoften as you like; and you can stake low, or go it blind, accordingas you're inclined to. It's a democratic game; every man decides forhimself how high he will play, except the banker; and you needn'ttake bank unless you want it. " "Oh, if you insist upon it, " Coleyard drawled out, with languidreluctance, "I'll play, of course. I won't spoil your evening. But remember, I'm a poet; I have strange inspirations. " The cards were "squeezers"--that is to say, had the suit and thenumber of pips in each printed small in the corner, as well as overthe face, for ease of reference. We played low at first. The poetseldom staked; and when he did--a few pounds--he lost, with singularpersistence. He wanted to play for doubloons or sequins, and couldwith difficulty be induced to condescend to dollars. Charles lookedacross at him at last; the stakes by that time were fast risinghigher, and we played for ready money. Notes lay thick on the greencloth. "Well, " he murmured provokingly, "how about your inspiration?Has Apollo deserted you?" It was an unwonted flight of classical allusion for Charles, and Iconfess it astonished me. (I discovered afterwards he had cribbedit from a review in that evening's Critic. ) But the poet smiled. "No, " he answered calmly, "I am waiting for one now. When it comes, you may be sure you shall have the benefit of it. " Next round, Charles dealing and banking, the poet staked on hiscard, unseen as usual. He staked like a gentleman. To our immenseastonishment he pulled out a roll of notes, and remarked, in a quiettone, "I have an inspiration now. _Half-hearted_ will do. I go fivethousand. " That was dollars, of course; but it amounted to athousand pounds in English money--high play for an author. Charles smiled and turned his card. The poet turned his--and wona thousand. "Good shot!" Charles murmured, pretending not to mind, though hedetests losing. "Inspiration!" the poet mused, and looked once more abstracted. Charles dealt again. The poet watched the deal with boiled-fishyeyes. His thoughts were far away. His lips moved audibly. "Myrtle, and kirtle, and hurtle, " he muttered. "They'll do for three. Thenthere's turtle, meaning dove; and that finishes the possible. Laureland coral make a very bad rhyme. Try myrtle; don't you think so?" "Do you stake?" Charles asked, severely, interrupting his reverie. The poet started. "No, pass, " he replied, looking down at his card, and subsided into muttering. We caught a tremor of his lips again, and heard something like this: "Not less but more republican thanthou, Half-hearted watcher by the Western sea, After long years Icome to visit thee, And test thy fealty to that maiden vow, Thatbound thee in thy budding prime For Freedom's bride--" "Stake?" Charles interrupted, inquiringly, again. "Yes, five thousand, " the poet answered dreamily, pushing forwardhis pile of notes, and never ceasing from his murmur: "For Freedom'sbride to all succeeding time. Succeeding; succeeding; weak word, succeeding. Couldn't go five dollars on it. " Charles turned his card once more. The poet had won again. Charlespassed over his notes. The poet raked them in with a far-away air, as one who looks at infinity, and asked if he could borrow a penciland paper. He had a few priceless lines to set down which mightotherwise escape him. "This is play, " Charles said pointedly. "_Will_ you kindly attend toone thing or the other?" The poet glanced at him with a compassionate smile. "I told you Ihad inspirations, " he said. "They always come together. I can't winyour money as fast as I would like, unless at the same time I ammaking verses. Whenever I hit upon a good epithet, I back my luck, don't you see? I won a thousand on _half-hearted_ and a thousand on_budding_; if I were to back _succeeding_, I should lose, to acertainty. You understand my system?" "I call it pure rubbish, " Charles answered. "However, continue. Systems were made for fools--and to suit wise men. Sooner or lateryou _must_ lose at such a stupid fancy. " The poet continued. "For Freedom's bride to all _ensuing_ time. " "Stake!" Charles cried sharply. We each of us staked. "_Ensuing_, " the poet murmured. "To all _ensuing_ time. First-rateepithet that. I go ten thousand, Sir Charles, on _ensuing_. " We all turned up. Some of us lost, some won; but the poet hadsecured his two thousand sterling. "I haven't that amount about me, " Charles said, in that austerelynettled voice which he always assumes when he loses at cards;"but--I'll settle it with you to-morrow. " "Another round?" the host asked, beaming. "No, thank you, " Charles answered; "Mr. Coleyard's inspirationscome too pat for my taste. His luck beats mine. I retire from thegame, Senator. " Just at that moment a servant entered, bearing a salver, with asmall note in an envelope. "For Mr. Coleyard, " he observed; "andthe messenger said, _urgent_. " Coleyard tore it open hurriedly. I could see he was agitated. Hisface grew white at once. "I--I beg your pardon, " he said. "I--I must go back instantly. Mywife is dangerously ill--quite a sudden attack. Forgive me, Senator. Sir Charles, you shall have your revenge to-morrow. " It was clear that his voice faltered. We felt at least he was a manof feeling. He was obviously frightened. His coolness forsook him. He shook hands as in a dream, and rushed downstairs for hisdust-coat. Almost as he closed the front door, a new guest entered, just missing him in the vestibule. "Halloa, you men, " he said, "we've been taken in, do you know? It'sall over the Lotus. The man we made an honorary member of the clubto-day is _not_ Algernon Coleyard. He's a blatant impostor. There'sa telegram come in on the tape to-night saying Algernon Coleyard isdangerously ill at his home in England. " Charles gasped a violent gasp. "Colonel Clay!" he shouted, aloud. "And once more he's done me. There's not a moment to lose. Afterhim, gentlemen! after him!" Never before in our lives had we had such a close shave of catchingand fixing the redoubtable swindler. We burst down the stairs in abody, and rushed out into Fifth Avenue. The pretended poet had onlya hundred yards' start of us, and he saw he was discovered. But hewas an excellent runner. So was I, weight for age; and I dashedwildly after him. He turned round a corner; it proved to leadnowhere, and lost him time. He darted back again, madly. Delightedwith the idea that I was capturing so famous a criminal, I redoubledmy efforts--and came up with him, panting. He was wearing a lightdust-coat. I seized it in my hands. "I've got you at last!" I cried;"Colonel Clay, I've got you!" He turned and looked at me. "Ha, old Ten Per Cent!" he called out, struggling. "It's you, then, is it? Never, never to _you_, sir!" Andas he spoke, he somehow flung his arms straight out behind him, andlet the dust-coat slip off, which it easily did, the sleeves beingnew and smoothly silk-lined. The suddenness of the movement threwme completely off my guard, and off my legs as well. I was clingingto the coat and holding him. As the support gave way I rolled overbackward, in the mud of the street, and hurt my back seriously. Asfor Colonel Clay, with a nervous laugh, he bolted off at full speedin his evening coat, and vanished round a corner. It was some seconds before I had sufficiently recovered my breath topick myself up again, and examine my bruises. By this time Charlesand the other pursuers had come up, and I explained my condition tothem. Instead of commending me for my zeal in his cause--which hadcost me a barked arm and a good evening suit--my brother-in-lawremarked, with an unfeeling sneer, that when I had so nearly caughtmy man I might as well have held him. "I have his coat, at least, " I said. "That may afford us a clue. "And I limped back with it in my hands, feeling horribly bruised anda good deal shaken. When we came to examine the coat, however, it bore no maker's name;the strap at the back, where the tailor proclaims with pride hishandicraft, had been carefully ripped off, and its place was takenby a tag of plain black tape without inscription of any sort. Wesearched the breast-pocket. A handkerchief, similarly nameless, but of finest cambric. The side-pockets--ha, what was this? I drewa piece of paper out in triumph. It was a note--a real find--theone which the servant had handed to our friend just before at theSenator's. We read it through breathlessly:-- "DARLING PAUL, --I _told_ you it was too dangerous. You should havelistened to me. You ought _never_ to have imitated any real person. Ihappened to glance at the hotel tape just now, to see the quotationsfor Cloetedorps to-day, and what do you think I read as part of thelatest telegram from England? 'Mr. Algernon Coleyard, the famouspoet, is lying on his death-bed at his home in Devonshire. ' By thistime all New York knows. Don't stop one minute. Say I'm dangerouslyill, and come away at once. Don't return to the hotel. I am removingour things. Meet me at Mary's. Your devoted, MARGOT. " "This is _very_ important, " Charles said. "This _does_ give us a clue. We know two things now: his real name is Paul--whatever else it maybe, and Madame Picardet's is Margot. " I searched the pocket again, and pulled out a ring. Evidently he hadthrust these two things there when he saw me pursuing him, and hadforgotten or neglected them in the heat of the mêlée. I looked at it close. It was the very ring I had noticed on hisfinger while he was playing Swedish poker. It had a large compoundgem in the centre, set with many facets, and rising like a pyramidto a point in the middle. There were eight faces in all, some ofthem composed of emerald, amethyst, or turquoise. But _one_ face--theone that turned at a direct angle towards the wearer's eye--was _not_a gem at all, but an extremely tiny convex mirror. In a moment Ispotted the trick. He held this hand carelessly on the table whilemy brother-in-law dealt; and when he saw that the suit and number ofhis own card mirrored in it by means of the squeezers were betterthan Charles's, he had "an inspiration, " and backed his luck--orrather his knowledge--with perfect confidence. I did not doubt, either, that his odd-looking eyeglass was a powerful magnifier whichhelped him in the trick. Still, we tried another deal, by way ofexperiment--I wearing the ring; and even with the naked eye I wasable to distinguish in every case the suit and pips of the card thatwas dealt me. "Why, that was almost dishonest, " the Senator said, drawing back. He wished to show us that even far-Western speculators drew a linesomewhere. "Yes, " the magazine editor echoed. "To back your skill is legal;to back your luck is foolish; to back your knowledge is--" "Immoral, " I suggested. "Very good business, " said the magazine editor. "It's a simple trick, " Charles interposed. "I should have spottedit if it had been done by any other fellow. But his patter aboutinspiration put me clean off the track. That's the rascal's dodge. He plays the regular conjurer's game of distracting your attentionfrom the real point at issue--so well that you never find out whathe's really about till he's sold you irretrievably. " We set the New York police upon the trail of the Colonel; but ofcourse he had vanished at once, as usual, into the thin smoke ofManhattan. Not a sign could we find of him. "Mary's, " we found aninsufficient address. We waited on in New York for a whole fortnight. Nothing came of it. We never found "Mary's. " The only token of Colonel Clay's presencevouchsafed us in the city was one of his customary insulting notes. It was conceived as follows:-- "O ETERNAL GULLIBLE!--Since I saw you on Lake George, I have runback to London, and promptly come out again. I had business totransact there, indeed, which I have now completed; the excessiveattentions of the English police sent me once more, like greatOrion, "sloping slowly to the west. " I returned to America in orderto see whether or not you were still impenitent. On the day of myarrival I happened to meet Senator Wrengold, and accepted his kindinvitation solely that I might see how far my last communicationhad had a proper effect upon you. As I found you quite obdurate, and as you furthermore persisted in misunderstanding my motives, Idetermined to read you one more small lesson. It nearly failed; andI confess the accident has affected my nerves a little. I am nowabout to retire from business altogether, and settle down for lifeat my place in Surrey. I mean to try just one more small coup; and, when that is finished, Colonel Clay will hang up his sword, likeCincinnatus, and take to farming. You need no longer fear me. I haverealised enough to secure me for life a modest competence; and asI am not possessed like yourself with an immoderate greed of gain, I recognise that good citizenship demands of me now an earlyretirement in favour of some younger and more deserving rascal. Ishall always look back with pleasure upon our agreeable adventurestogether; and as you hold my dust-coat, together with a ring andletter to which I attach importance, I consider we are quits, andI shall withdraw with dignity. Your sincere well-wisher, CUTHBERTCLAY, Poet. " "Just like him!" Charles said, "to hold this one last coup over myhead in terrorem. Though even when he has played it, why should Itrust his word? A scamp like that may say it, of course, on purposeto disarm me. " For my own part, I quite agreed with "Margot. " When the Colonel wasreduced to dressing the part of a known personage I felt he hadreached almost his last card, and would be well advised to retireinto Surrey. But the magazine editor summed up all in a word. "Don't believethat nonsense about fortunes being made by industry and ability, "he said. "In life, as at cards, two things go to producesuccess--the first is chance; the second is cheating. " XI THE EPISODE OF THE BERTILLON METHOD We had a terrible passage home from New York. The Captain told us he"knew every drop of water in the Atlantic personally"; and he hadnever seen them so uniformly obstreperous. The ship rolled in thetrough; Charles rolled in his cabin, and would not be comforted. Aswe approached the Irish coast, I scrambled up on deck in a violentgale, and retired again somewhat precipitately to announce to mybrother-in-law that we had just come in sight of the Fastnet RockLighthouse. Charles merely turned over in his berth and groaned. "I don't believe it, " he answered. "I expect it is probably ColonelClay in another of his manifold disguises!" At Liverpool, however, the Adelphi consoled him. We dinedluxuriously in the Louis Quinze restaurant, as only millionairescan dine, and proceeded next day by Pullman car to London. We found Amelia dissolved in tears at a domestic cataclysm. Itseemed that Césarine had given notice. Charles was scarcely home again when he began to bethink him ofthe least among his investments. Like many other wealthy men, myrespected connection is troubled more or less, in the background ofhis consciousness, by a pervading dread that he will die a beggar. To guard against this misfortune--which I am bound to admit nobodyelse fears for him--he invested, several years ago, a sum of twohundred thousand pounds in Consols, to serve as a nest-egg in caseof the collapse of Golcondas and South Africa generally. It ispart of the same amiable mania, too, that he will not allow thedividend-warrants on this sum to be sent to him by post, butinsists, after the fashion of old ladies and country parsons, uponcalling personally at the Bank of England four times a year to claimhis interest. He is well known by sight to not a few of the clerks;and his appearance in Threadneedle Street is looked forward to withgreat regularity within a few weeks of each lawful quarter-day. So, on the morning after our arrival in town, Charles observed tome, cheerfully, "Sey, I must run into the City to-day to claim mydividends. There are two quarters owing. " I accompanied him in to the Bank. Even that mighty official, thebeadle at the door, unfastened the handle of the millionaire'scarriage. The clerk who received us smiled and nodded. "How much?"he asked, after the stereotyped fashion. "Two hundred thousand, " Charles answered, looking affable. The clerk turned up the books. "Paid!" he said, withdecision. "What's your game, sir, if I may ask you?" "Paid!" Charles echoed, drawing back. The clerk gazed across at him. "Yes, Sir Charles, " he answered, ina somewhat severe tone. "You must remember you drew a quarter'sdividend from myself--last week--at this very counter. " Charles stared at him fixedly. "Show me the signature, " he said atlast, in a slow, dazed fashion. I suspected mischief. The clerk pushed the book across to him. Charles examined the nameclose. "Colonel Clay again!" he cried, turning to me with a despondent air. "He must have dressed the part. I shall die in the workhouse, Sey!That man has stolen away even my nest-egg from me. " I saw it at a glance. "Mrs. Quackenboss!" I put in. "Those portraitson the Etruria! It was to help him in his make-up! You recollect, she sketched your face and figure at all possible angles. " "And last quarter's?" Charles inquired, staggering. The clerk turned up the entry. "Drawn on the 10th of July, "he answered, carelessly, as if it mattered nothing. Then I knew why the Colonel had run across to England. Charles positively reeled. "Take me home, Sey, " he cried. "I amruined, ruined! He will leave me with not half a million in theworld. My poor, poor boys will beg their bread, unheeded, throughthe streets of London!" (As Amelia has landed estate settled upon her worth a hundred andfifty thousand pounds, this last contingency affected me less totears than Charles seemed to think necessary. ) We made all needful inquiries, and put the police upon the quest atonce, as always. But no redress was forthcoming. The money, oncepaid, could not be recovered. It is a playful little privilege ofConsols that the Government declines under any circumstances to paytwice over. Charles drove back to Mayfair a crushed and broken man. I think if Colonel Clay himself could have seen him just then, hewould have pitied that vast intellect in its grief and bewilderment. After lunch, however, my brother-in-law's natural buoyancyreasserted itself by degrees. He rallied a little. "Seymour, " hesaid to me, "you've heard, of course, of the Bertillon system ofmeasuring and registering criminals. " "I have, " I answered. "And it's excellent as far as it goes. But, like Mrs. Glasse's jugged hare, it all depends upon the initialstep. 'First catch your criminal. ' Now, we have never caughtColonel Clay--" "Or, rather, " Charles interposed unkindly, "when you _did_ catch him, you didn't hold him. " I ignored the unkindly suggestion, and continued in the same voice, "We have never secured Colonel Clay; and until we secure him, wecannot register him by the Bertillon method. Besides, even if wehad once caught him and duly noted the shape of his nose, his chin, his ears, his forehead, of what use would that be against a man whoturns up with a fresh face each time, and can mould his featuresinto what form he likes, to deceive and foil us?" "Never mind, Sey, " my brother-in-law said. "I was told in New Yorkthat Dr. Frank Beddersley, of London, was the best exponent of theBertillon system now living in England; and to Beddersley I shallgo. Or, rather, I'll invite him here to lunch to-morrow. " "Who told you of him?" I inquired. "_Not_ Dr. Quackenboss, I hope;nor yet Mr. Algernon Coleyard?" Charles paused and reflected. "No, neither of them, " he answered, after a short internal deliberation. "It was that magazine editorchap we met at Wrengold's. " "_He's_ all right, " I said; "or, at least, I think so. " So we wrote a polite invitation to Dr. Beddersley, who pursuedthe method professionally, asking him to come and lunch with usat Mayfair at two next day. Dr. Beddersley came--a dapper little man, with pent-house eyebrows, and keen, small eyes, whom I suspected at sight of being ColonelClay himself in another of his clever polymorphic embodiments. Hewas clear and concise. His manner was scientific. He told us at oncethat though the Bertillon method was of little use till the experthad seen the criminal once, yet if we had consulted him earlierhe might probably have saved us some serious disasters. "A manso ingenious as this, " he said, "would no doubt have studiedBertillon's principles himself, and would take every possiblemeans to prevent recognition by them. Therefore, you might almostdisregard the nose, the chin, the moustache, the hair, all of whichare capable of such easy alteration. But there remain some featureswhich are more likely to persist--height, shape of head, neck, build, and fingers; the timbre of the voice, the colour of the iris. Even these, again, may be partially disguised or concealed; the waythe hair is dressed, the amount of padding, a high collar round thethroat, a dark line about the eyelashes, may do more to alter theappearance of a face than you could readily credit. " "So we know, " I answered. "The voice, again, " Dr. Beddersley continued. "The voice itself maybe most fallacious. The man is no doubt a clever mimic. He could, perhaps, compress or enlarge his larynx. And I judge from what youtell me that he took characters each time which compelled himlargely to alter and modify his tone and accent. " "Yes, " I said. "As the Mexican Seer, he had of course aSpanish intonation. As the little curate, he was a cultivatedNorth-countryman. As David Granton, he spoke gentlemanly Scotch. As Von Lebenstein, naturally, he was a South-German, trying toexpress himself in French. As Professor Schleiermacher, he was aNorth-German speaking broken English. As Elihu Quackenboss, hehad a fine and pronounced Kentucky flavour. And as the poet, hedrawled after the fashion of the clubs, with lingering remnantsof a Devonshire ancestry. " "Quite so, " Dr. Beddersley answered. "That is just what I shouldexpect. Now, the question is, do you know him to be one man, oris he really a gang? Is he a name for a syndicate? Have you anyphotographs of Colonel Clay himself in any of his disguises?" "Not one, " Charles answered. "He produced some himself, when he wasMedhurst the detective. But he pocketed them at once; and we neverrecovered them. " "Could you get any?" the doctor asked. "Did you note the name andaddress of the photographer?" "Unfortunately, no, " Charles replied. "But the police at Nice showedus two. Perhaps we might borrow them. " "Until we get them, " Dr. Beddersley said, "I don't know that we cando anything. But if you can once give me two distinct photographs ofthe real man, no matter how much disguised, I could tell you whetherthey were taken from one person; and, if so, I think I could pointout certain details in common which might aid us to go upon. " All this was at lunch. Amelia's niece, Dolly Lingfield, was there, as it happened; and I chanced to note a most guilty look stealingover her face all the while we were talking. Suspicious as I hadlearned to become by this time, however, I did not suspect Dolly ofbeing in league with Colonel Clay; but, I confess, I wondered whather blush could indicate. After lunch, to my surprise, Dolly calledme away from the rest into the library. "Uncle Seymour, " she saidto me--the dear child calls me Uncle Seymour, though of course I amnot in any way related to her--"_I_ have some photographs of ColonelClay, if you want them. " "_You_?" I cried, astonished. "Why, Dolly, how did you get them?" For a minute or two she showed some little hesitation in telling me. At last she whispered, "You won't be angry if I confess?" (Dolly isjust nineteen, and remarkably pretty. ) "My child, " I said, "why _should_ I be angry? You may confide in meimplicitly. " (With a blush like that, who on earth could be angrywith her?) "And you won't tell Aunt Amelia or Aunt Isabel?" she inquiredsomewhat anxiously. "Not for worlds, " I answered. (As a matter of fact, Amelia andIsabel are the last people in the world to whom I should dreamof confiding anything that Dolly might tell me. ) "Well, I was stopping at Seldon, you know, when Mr. David Grantonwas there, " Dolly went on; "--or, rather, when that scamp pretendedhe was David Granton; and--and--you won't be angry with me, willyou?--one day I took a snap-shot with my kodak at him and AuntAmelia!" "Why, what harm was there in that?" I asked, bewildered. The wildeststretch of fancy could hardly conceive that the Honourable David hadbeen _flirting_ with Amelia. Dolly coloured still more deeply. "Oh, you know Bertie Winslow?" shesaid. "Well, he's interested in photography--and--and also in _me_. And he's invented a process, which isn't of the slightest practicaluse, he says; but its peculiarity is, that it reveals textures. Atleast, that's what Bertie calls it. It makes things come out so. Andhe gave me some plates of his own for my kodak--half-a-dozen or more, and--I took Aunt Amelia with them. " "I still fail to see, " I murmured, looking at her comically. "Oh, Uncle Seymour, " Dolly cried. "How blind you men are!If Aunt Amelia knew she would never forgive me. Why, you _must_understand. The--the rouge, you know, and the pearl powder!" "Oh, it comes out, then, in the photograph?" I inquired. "Comes out! I should _think_ so! It's like little black spots allover auntie's face. _such_ a guy as she looks in it!" "And Colonel Clay is in them too?" "Yes; I took them when he and auntie were talking together, withouteither of them noticing. And Bertie developed them. I've three ofDavid Granton. Three beauties; _most_ successful. " "Any other character?" I asked, seeing business ahead. Dolly hung back, still redder. "Well, the rest are with AuntIsabel, " she answered, after a struggle. "My dear child, " I replied, hiding my feelings as a husband, "I willbe brave. I will bear up even against that last misfortune!" Dolly looked up at me pleadingly. "It was here in London, " she wenton; "--when I was last with auntie. Medhurst was stopping in thehouse at the time; and I took him twice, tête-à-tête with AuntIsabel!" "Isabel does not paint, " I murmured, stoutly. Dolly hung back again. "No, but--her hair!" she suggested, in afaint voice. "Its colour, " I admitted, "is in places assisted by a--well, youknow, a restorer. " Dolly broke into a mischievous sly smile. "Yes, it is, " shecontinued. "And, oh, Uncle Sey, where the restorer has--er--restoredit, you know, it comes out in the photograph with a sort ofbrilliant iridescent metallic sheen on it!" "Bring them down, my dear, " I said, gently patting her head with myhand. In the interests of justice, I thought it best not to frightenher. Dolly brought them down. They seemed to me poor things, yet wellworth trying. We found it possible, on further confabulation, bythe simple aid of a pair of scissors, so to cut each in two thatall trace of Amelia and Isabel was obliterated. Even so, however, I judged it best to call Charles and Dr. Beddersley to a privateconsultation in the library with Dolly, and not to submit themutilated photographs to public inspection by their joint subjects. Here, in fact, we had five patchy portraits of the redoubtableColonel, taken at various angles, and in characteristic unstudiedattitudes. A child had outwitted the cleverest sharper in Europe! The moment Beddersley's eye fell upon them, a curious look came overhis face. "Why, these, " he said, "are taken on Herbert Winslow'smethod, Miss Lingfield. " "Yes, " Dolly admitted timidly. "They are. He's--a friend of mine, don't you know; and--he gave me some plates that just fitted mycamera. " Beddersley gazed at them steadily. Then he turned to Charles. "And this young lady, " he said, "has quite unintentionally andunconsciously succeeded in tracking Colonel Clay to earth at last. They are genuine photographs of the man--as he is--_without_ thedisguises!" "They look to me most blotchy, " Charles murmured. "Great black linesdown the nose, and such spots on the cheek, too!" "Exactly, " Beddersley put in. "Those are _differences in texture_. They show just how much of the man's face is human flesh--" "And how much wax, " I ventured. "Not wax, " the expert answered, gazing close. "This is some hardermixture. I should guess, a composition of gutta-percha andindia-rubber, which takes colour well, and hardens when applied, so as to lie quite evenly, and resist heat or melting. Look here;that's an artificial scar, filling up a real hollow; and _this_ isan added bit to the tip of the nose; and _those_ are shadows, dueto inserted cheek-pieces, within the mouth, to make the man lookfatter!" "Why, of course, " Charles cried. "India-rubber it must be. That'swhy in France they call him le Colonel Caoutchouc!" "Can you reconstruct the real face from them?" I inquired anxiously. Dr. Beddersley gazed hard at them. "Give me an hour or two, " hesaid--"and a box of water-colours. I _think_ by that time--puttingtwo and two together--I can eliminate the false and build up for youa tolerably correct idea of what the actual man himself looks like. " We turned him into the library for a couple of hours, with thematerials he needed; and by tea-time he had completed his firstrough sketch of the elements common to the two faces. He broughtit out to us in the drawing-room. I glanced at it first. It wasa curious countenance, slightly wanting in definiteness, and notunlike those "composite photographs" which Mr. Galton produces byexposing two negatives on the same sensitised paper for ten secondsor so consecutively. Yet it struck me at once as containingsomething of Colonel Clay in every one of his many representations. The little curate, in real life, did not recall the Seer; nordid Elihu Quackenboss suggest Count von Lebenstein or ProfessorSchleiermacher. Yet in this compound face, produced only fromphotographs of David Granton and Medhurst, I could distinctly tracea certain underlying likeness to every one of the forms which theimpostor had assumed for us. In other words, though he could makeup so as to mask the likeness to his other characters, he could notmake up so as to mask the likeness to his own personality. He couldnot wholly get rid of his native build and his genuine features. Besides these striking suggestions of the Seer and the curate, however, I felt vaguely conscious of having seen and observed_the man himself_ whom the water-colour represented, at some time, somewhere. It was not at Nice; it was not at Seldon; it was not atMeran; it was not in America. I believed I had been in a room withhim somewhere in London. Charles was looking over my shoulder. He gave a sudden little start. "Why, I know that fellow!" he cried. "You recollect him, Sey; he'sFinglemore's brother--the chap that didn't go out to China!" Then I remembered at once where it was that I had seen him--at thebroker's in the city, before we sailed for America. "What Christian name?" I asked. Charles reflected a moment. "The same as the one in the note we gotwith the dust-coat, " he answered, at last. "The man is PaulFinglemore!" "You will arrest him?" I asked. "Can I, on this evidence?" "We might bring it home to him. " Charles mused for a moment. "We shall have nothing against him, "he said slowly, "except in so far as we can swear to his identity. And that may be difficult. " Just at that moment the footman brought in tea. Charles wonderedapparently whether the man, who had been with us at Seldon whenColonel Clay was David Granton, would recollect the face orrecognise having seen it. "Look here, Dudley, " he said, holdingup the water-colour, "do you know that person?" Dudley gazed at it a moment. "Certainly, sir, " he answered briskly. "Who is it?" Amelia asked. We expected him to answer, "Count vonLebenstein, " or "Mr. Granton, " or "Medhurst. " Instead of that, he replied, to our utter surprise, "That'sCésarine's young man, my lady. " "Césarine's young man?" Amelia repeated, taken aback. "Oh, Dudley, surely, you _must_ be mistaken!" "No, my lady, " Dudley replied, in a tone of conviction. "He comesto see her quite reg'lar; he have come to see her, off and on, from time to time, ever since I've been in Sir Charles's service. " "When will he be coming again?" Charles asked, breathless. "He's downstairs now, sir, " Dudley answered, unaware of thebombshell he was flinging into the midst of a respectable family. Charles rose excitedly, and put his back against the door. "Securethat man, " he said to me sharply, pointing with his finger. "_What_ man?" I asked, amazed. "Colonel Clay? The young man who'sdownstairs now with Césarine?" "No, " Charles answered, with decision; "Dudley!" I laid my hand on the footman's shoulder, not understanding whatCharles meant. Dudley, terrified, drew back, and would have rushedfrom the room; but Charles, with his back against the door, prevented him. "I--I've done nothing to be arrested, Sir Charles, " Dudley cried, in abject terror, looking appealingly at Amelia. "It--it wasn't meas cheated you. " And he certainly didn't look it. "I daresay not, " Charles answered. "But you don't leave this roomtill Colonel Clay is in custody. No, Amelia, no; it's no use yourspeaking to me. What he says is true. I see it all now. This villainand Césarine have long been accomplices! The man's downstairs withher now. If we let Dudley quit the room he'll go down and tell them;and before we know where we are, that slippery eel will havewriggled through our fingers, as he always wriggles. He _is_ PaulFinglemore; he _is_ Césarine's young man; and unless we arrest himnow, without one minute's delay, he'll be off to Madrid or St. Petersburg by this evening!" "You are right, " I answered. "It is now or never!" "Dudley, " Charles said, in his most authoritative voice, "stop heretill we tell you you may leave the room. Amelia and Dolly, don't letthat man stir from where he's standing. If he does, restrain him. Seymour and Dr. Beddersley, come down with me to the servants' hall. I suppose that's where I shall find this person, Dudley?" "N--no, sir, " Dudley stammered out, half beside himself with fright. "He's in the housekeeper's room, sir!" We went down to the lower regions in a solid phalanx of three. Onthe way we met Simpson, Sir Charles's valet, and also the butler, whom we pressed into the service. At the door of the housekeeper'sroom we paused, strategically. Voices came to us from within; onewas Césarine's, the other had a ring that reminded me at once ofMedhurst and the Seer, of Elihu Quackenboss and Algernon Coleyard. They were talking together in French; and now and then we caughtthe sound of stifled laughter. We opened the door. "Est-il drôle, donc, ce vieux?" the man'svoice was saying. "C'est à mourir de rire, " Césarine's voice responded. We burst in upon them, red-handed. Césarine's young man rose, with his hat in his hand, in a respectfulattitude. It reminded me at once of Medhurst, as he stood talkinghis first day at Marvillier's to Charles; and also of the littlecurate, in his humblest moments as the disinterested pastor. With a sign to me to do likewise, Charles laid his hand firmly onthe young man's shoulder. I looked in the fellow's face: there couldbe no denying it; Césarine's young man was Paul Finglemore, ourbroker's brother. "Paul Finglemore, " Charles said severely, "otherwise Cuthbert Clay, I arrest you on several charges of theft and conspiracy!" The young man glanced around him. He was surprised and perturbed;but, even so, his inexhaustible coolness never once deserted him. "What, five to one?" he said, counting us over. "Has law and ordercome down to this? Five respectable rascals to arrest one poorbeggar of a chevalier d'industrie! Why, it's worse than New York. _There_, it was only you and me, you know, old Ten per Cent!" "Hold his hands, Simpson!" Charles cried, trembling lest his enemyshould escape him. Paul Finglemore drew back even while we held his shoulders. "No, not _you_, sir, " he said to the man, haughtily. "Don't dare to layyour hands upon me! Send for a constable if you wish, Sir CharlesVandrift; but I decline to be taken into custody by a valet!" "Go for a policeman, " Dr. Beddersley said to Simpson, standingforward. The prisoner eyed him up and down. "Oh, Dr. Beddersley!" he said, relieved. It was evident he knew him. "If _you've_ tracked mestrictly in accordance with Bertillon's methods, I don't mind somuch. I will not yield to fools; I yield to science. I didn't thinkthis diamond king had sense enough to apply to you. He's the mostgullible old ass I ever met in my life. But if it's _you_ who havetracked me down, I can only submit to it. " Charles held to him with a fierce grip. "Mind he doesn't break away, Sey, " he cried. "He's playing his old game! Distrust the man'spatter!" "Take care, " the prisoner put in. "Remember Dr. Polperro! On whatcharge do you arrest me?" Charles was bubbling with indignation. "You cheated me at Nice, "he said; "at Meran; at New York; at Paris!" Paul Finglemore shook his head. "Won't do, " he answered, calmly. "Besure of your ground. Outside the jurisdiction! You can only do thaton an extradition warrant. " "Well, then, at Seldon, in London, in this house, and elsewhere, "Charles cried out excitedly. "Hold hard to him, Sey; by law orwithout it, blessed if he isn't going even now to wriggle awayfrom us!" At that moment Simpson returned with a convenient policeman, whom hehad happened to find loitering about near the area steps, and whom Ihalf suspected from his furtive smile of being a particularacquaintance of the household. Charles gave the man in charge formally. Paul Finglemore insistedthat he should specify the nature of the particular accusation. To my great chagrin, Charles selected from his rogueries, as bestwithin the jurisdiction of the English courts, the matter of thepayment for the Castle of Lebenstein--made in London, and througha London banker. "I have a warrant on that ground, " he said. Itrembled as he spoke. I felt at once that the episode of thecommission, the exposure of which I dreaded so much, must nowbecome public. The policeman took the man in charge. Charles still held to him, grimly. As they were leaving the room the prisoner turned toCésarine, and muttered something rapidly under his breath, inGerman. "Of which tongue, " he said, turning to us blandly, "in spiteof my kind present of a dictionary and grammar, you still doubtlessremain in your pristine ignorance!" Césarine flung herself upon him with wild devotion. "Oh, Paul, darling, " she cried, in English, "I will not, I will not! Iwill never save myself at _your_ expense. If they send you toprison--Paul, Paul, I will go with you!" I remembered as she spoke what Mr. Algernon Coleyard had said to usat the Senator's. "Even the worst of rogues have always some goodin them. I notice they often succeed to the end in retaining theaffection and fidelity of women. " But the man, his hands still free, unwound her clasping arms withgentle fingers. "My child, " he answered, in a soft tone, "I am sorryto say the law of England will not permit you to go with me. If itdid" (his voice was as the voice of the poet we had met), "'stonewalls would not a prison make, nor iron bars a cage. '" And bendingforward, he kissed her forehead tenderly. We led him out to the door. The policeman, in obedience to Charles'sorders, held him tight with his hand, but steadily refused, as theprisoner was not violent, to handcuff him. We hailed a passinghansom. "To Bow Street!" Charles cried, unceremoniously pushing inpoliceman and prisoner. The driver nodded. We called a four-wheelerourselves, in which my brother-in-law, Dr. Beddersley and myselftook our seats. "Follow the hansom!" Charles cried out. "Don't lethim out of your sight. After him, close, to Bow Street!" I looked back, and saw Césarine, half fainting, on the front doorsteps, while Dolly, bathed in tears, stood supporting thelady's-maid, and trying to comfort her. It was clear she had notanticipated this end to the adventure. "Goodness gracious!" Charles screamed out, in a fresh fever ofalarm, as we turned the first corner; "where's that hansom gone to?How do I know the fellow was a policeman at all? We should havetaken the man in here. We ought never to have let him get out ofour sight. For all we can tell to the contrary, the constablehimself--may only be one of Colonel Clay's confederates!" And we drove in trepidation all the way to Bow Street. XII THE EPISODE OF THE OLD BAILEY When we reached Bow Street, we were relieved to find that ourprisoner, after all, had _not_ evaded us. It was a false alarm. He was there with the policeman, and he kindly allowed us tomake the first formal charge against him. Of course, on Charles's sworn declaration and my own, the man wasat once remanded, bail being refused, owing both to the seriousnature of the charge and the slippery character of the prisoner'santecedents. We went back to Mayfair--Charles, well satisfied thatthe man he dreaded was under lock and key; myself, not too wellpleased to think that the man I dreaded was no longer at large, andthat the trifling little episode of the ten per cent commissionstood so near discovery. Next day the police came round in force, and had a long consultationwith Charles and myself. They strongly urged that two other personsat least should be included in the charge--Césarine and the littlewoman whom we had variously known as Madame Picardet, White Heather, Mrs. David Granton, and Mrs. Elihu Quackenboss. If these accompliceswere arrested, they said, we could include conspiracy as one countin the indictment, which gave us an extra chance of conviction. Nowthey had got Colonel Clay, in fact, they naturally desired to keephim, and also to indict with him as many as possible of his palsand confederates. Here, however, a difficulty arose. Charles called me aside with agrave face into the library. "Seymour, " he said, fixing me, "thisis a serious business. I will not lightly swear away any woman'scharacter. Colonel Clay himself--or, rather, Paul Finglemore--is anabandoned rogue, whom I do not desire to screen in any degree. Butpoor little Madame Picardet--she may be his lawful wife, and shemay have acted implicitly under his orders. Besides, I don't knowwhether I could swear to her identity. Here's the photograph thepolice bring of the woman they believe to be Colonel Clay's chieffemale accomplice. Now, I ask you, does it in the least degreeresemble that clever and amusing and charming little creature, who has so often deceived us?" In spite of Charles's gibes, I flatter myself I do really understandthe whole duty of a secretary. It was clear from his voice he didnot _wish_ me to recognise her; which, as it happened, I did not. "Certainly, it doesn't resemble her, Charles, " I answered, withconviction in my voice. "I should never have known her. " But I didnot add that I should no more have known Colonel Clay himself inhis character of Paul Finglemore, or of Césarine's young man, as_that_ remark lay clearly outside my secretarial functions. Still, it flitted across my mind at the time that the Seer had madesome casual remarks at Nice about a letter in Charles's pocket, presumably from Madame Picardet; and I reflected further that MadamePicardet in turn might possibly hold certain answers of Charles's, couched in such terms as he might reasonably desire to conceal fromAmelia. Indeed, I must allow that under whatever disguise WhiteHeather appeared to us, Charles was always that disguise's devotedslave from the first moment he met it. It occurred to me, therefore, that the clever little woman--call her what you will--might be theholder of more than one indiscreet communication. "Under these circumstances, " Charles went on, in his austerestvoice, "I cannot consent to be a party to the arrest of WhiteHeather. I--I decline to identify her. In point of fact"--he grewmore emphatic as he went on--"I don't think there is an atom ofevidence of any sort against her. Not, " he continued, after apause, "that I wish in any degree to screen the guilty. Césarine, now--Césarine we have liked and trusted. She has betrayed our trust. She has sold us to this fellow. I have no doubt at all that shegave him the diamonds from Amelia's rivière; that she took us byarrangement to meet him at Schloss Lebenstein; that she opened andsent to him my letter to Lord Craig-Ellachie. Therefore, I say, we_ought_ to arrest Césarine. But not White Heather--not Jessie; notthat pretty Mrs. Quackenboss. Let the guilty suffer; why strike atthe innocent--or, at worst, the misguided?" "Charles, " I exclaimed, with warmth, "your sentiments do you honour. You are a man of feeling. And White Heather, I allow, is prettyenough and clever enough to be forgiven anything. You may rely uponmy discretion. I will swear through thick and thin that I do notrecognise this woman as Madame Picardet. " Charles clasped my hand in silence. "Seymour, " he said, aftera pause, with marked emotion, "I felt sure I could rely uponyour--er--honour and integrity. I have been rough upon yousometimes. But I ask your forgiveness. I see you understand thewhole duties of your position. " We went out again, better friends than we had been for months. I hoped, indeed, this pleasant little incident might help toneutralise the possible ill-effects of the ten per cent disclosure, should Finglemore take it into his head to betray me to my employer. As we emerged into the drawing-room, Amelia beckoned me asidetowards her boudoir for a moment. "Seymour, " she said to me, in a distinctly frightened tone, "I havetreated you harshly at times, I know, and I am very sorry for it. But I want you to help me in a most painful difficulty. The policeare quite right as to the charge of conspiracy; that designinglittle minx, White Heather, or Mrs. David Granton, or whatever elsewe're to call her, ought certainly to be prosecuted--and sent toprison, too--and have her absurd head of hair cut short and combedstraight for her. But--and you will help me here, I'm sure, dearSeymour--I _cannot_ allow them to arrest my Césarine. I don't pretendto say Césarine isn't guilty; the girl has behaved most ungratefullyto me. She has robbed me right and left, and deceived me withoutcompunction. Still--I put it to you as a married man--_can_ any womanafford to go into the witness-box, to be cross-examined and teasedby her own maid, or by a brute of a barrister on her maid'sinformation? I assure you, Seymour, the thing's not to be dreamt of. There are details of a lady's life--known only to her maid--which_cannot_ be made public. Explain as much of this as you think well toCharles, and _make_ him understand that _if_ he insists upon arrestingCésarine, I shall go into the box--and swear my head off to preventany one of the gang from being convicted. I have told Césarine asmuch; I have promised to help her: I have explained that I am herfriend, and that if _she'll_ stand by _me_, _I'll_ stand by _her_, and by this hateful young man of hers. " I saw in a moment how things went. Neither Charles nor Amelia couldface cross-examination on the subject of one of Colonel Clay'saccomplices. No doubt, in Amelia's case, it was merely a questionof rouge and hair-dye; but what woman would not sooner confess toa forgery or a murder than to those toilet secrets? I returned to Charles, therefore, and spent half an hour incomposing, as well as I might, these little domestic difficulties. In the end, it was arranged that if Charles did his best to protectCésarine from arrest, Amelia would consent to do her best in returnon behalf of Madame Picardet. We had next the police to tackle--a more difficult business. Still, even _they_ were reasonable. They had caught Colonel Clay, theybelieved, but their chance of convicting him depended entirely uponCharles's identification, with mine to back it. The more they urgedthe necessity of arresting the female confederates, however, themore stoutly did Charles declare that for his part he could by nomeans make sure of Colonel Clay himself, while he utterly declinedto give evidence of any sort against either of the women. It was adifficult case, he said, and he felt far from confident even aboutthe man. If _his_ decision faltered, and he failed to identify, thecase was closed; no jury could convict with nothing to convict upon. At last the police gave way. No other course was open to them. Theyhad made an important capture; but they saw that everything dependedupon securing their witnesses, and the witnesses, if interferedwith, were likely to swear to absolutely nothing. Indeed, as it turned out, before the preliminary investigation atBow Street was completed (with the usual remands), Charles had beenthrown into such a state of agitation that he wished he had nevercaught the Colonel at all. "I wonder, Sey, " he said to me, "why I didn't offer the rascal twothousand a year to go right off to Australia, and be rid of him forever! It would have been cheaper for my reputation than keeping himabout in courts of law in England. The worst of it is, when once thebest of men gets into a witness-box, there's no saying with whatshreds and tatters of a character he may at last come out of it!" "In _your_ case, Charles, " I answered, dutifully, "there can beno such doubt; except, perhaps, as regards the Craig-EllachieConsolidated. " Then came the endless bother of "getting up the case" with thepolice and the lawyers. Charles would have retired from italtogether by that time, but, most unfortunately, he was boundover to prosecute. "You couldn't take a lump sum to let me off?"he said, jokingly, to the inspector. But I knew in my heart it wasone of the "true words spoken in jest" that the proverb tells of. Of course we could see now the whole building-up of the greatintrigue. It had been worked out as carefully as the Tichborneswindle. Young Finglemore, as the brother of Charles's broker, knew from the outset all about his affairs; and, after a gentlecourse of preliminary roguery, he laid his plans deep for a campaignagainst my brother-in-law. Everything had been deliberatelydesigned beforehand. A place had been found for Césarine as Amelia'smaid--needless to say, by means of forged testimonials. Through heraid the swindler had succeeded in learning still more of the familyways and habits, and had acquired a knowledge of certain facts whichhe proceeded forthwith to use against us. His first attack, as theSeer, had been cleverly designed so as to give us the idea that wewere a mere casual prey; and it did not escape Charles's notice nowthat the detail of getting Madame Picardet to inquire at the CréditMarseillais about his bank had been solemnly gone through on purposeto blind us to the obvious truth that Colonel Clay was already infull possession of all such facts about us. It was by Césarine'said, again, that he became possessed of Amelia's diamonds, thathe received the letter addressed to Lord Craig-Ellachie, andthat he managed to dupe us over the Schloss Lebenstein business. Nevertheless, all these things Charles determined to conceal incourt; he did not give the police a single fact that would turnagainst either Césarine or Madame Picardet. As for Césarine, of course, she left the house immediately after thearrest of the Colonel, and we heard of her no more till the day ofthe trial. When that great day came, I never saw a more striking sight than theOld Bailey presented. It was crammed to overflowing. Charles arrivedearly, accompanied by his solicitor. He was so white and troubledthat he looked much more like prisoner than prosecutor. Outside thecourt a pretty little woman stood, pale and anxious. A respectfulcrowd stared at her silently. "Who is that?" Charles asked. Thoughwe could both of us guess, rather than see, it was White Heather. "That's the prisoner's wife, " the inspector on duty replied. "She'swaiting to see him enter. I'm sorry for her, poor thing. She's aperfect lady. " "So she seems, " Charles answered, scarcely daring to face her. At that moment she turned. Her eyes fell upon his. Charles pausedfor a second and looked faltering. There was in those eyes just thefaintest gleam of pleading recognition, but not a trace of the oldsaucy, defiant vivacity. Charles framed his lips to words, butwithout uttering a sound. Unless I greatly mistake, the words heframed on his lips were these: "I will do my best for him. " We pushed our way in, assisted by the police. Inside the court wesaw a lady seated, in a quiet black dress, with a becoming bonnet. A moment passed before I knew--it was Césarine. "Who is--thatperson?" Charles asked once more of the nearest inspector, desiringto see in what way he would describe her. And once more the answer came, "That's the prisoner's wife, sir. " Charles started back, surprised. "But--I was told--a lady outsidewas Mrs. Paul Finglemore, " he broke in, much puzzled. "Very likely, " the inspector replied, unmoved. "We have plenty thatway. _When_ a gentleman has as many aliases as Colonel Clay, you canhardly expect him to be over particular about having only _one_ wifebetween them, can you?" "Ah, I see, " Charles muttered, in a shocked voice. "Bigamy!" The inspector looked stony. "Well, not exactly that, " he replied, "occasional marriage. " Mr. Justice Rhadamanth tried the case. "I'm sorry it's him, Sey, "my brother-in-law whispered in my ear. (He said _him_, not _he_, because, whatever else Charles is, he is _not_ a pedant; the Englishlanguage as it is spoken by most educated men is quite good enoughfor his purpose. ) "I only wish it had been Sir Edward Easy. Easy's aman of the world, and a man of society; he would feel for a personin _my_ position. He wouldn't allow these beasts of lawyers tobadger and pester me. He would back his order. But Rhadamanth is oneof your modern sort of judges, who make a merit of being what theycall 'conscientious, ' and won't hush up anything. I admit I'm afraidof him. I shall be glad when it's over. " "Oh, _you'll_ pull through all right, " I said in my capacity ofsecretary. But I didn't think it. The judge took his seat. The prisoner was brought in. Every eyeseemed bent upon him. He was neatly and plainly dressed, and, rogue though he was, I must honestly confess he looked at least agentleman. His manner was defiant, not abject like Charles's. Heknew he was at bay, and he turned like a man to face his accusers. We had two or three counts on the charge, and, after some formalbusiness, Sir Charles Vandrift was put into the box to bear witnessagainst Finglemore. Prisoner was unrepresented. Counsel had been offered him, but herefused their aid. The judge even advised him to accept their help;but Colonel Clay, as we all called him mentally still, declined toavail himself of the judge's suggestion. "I am a barrister myself, my lord, " he said--"called some nine yearsago. I can conduct my own defence, I venture to think, better thanany of these my learned brethren. " Charles went through his examination-in-chief quite swimmingly. He answered with promptitude. He identified the prisoner withoutthe slightest hesitation as the man who had swindled him underthe various disguises of the Reverend Richard Peploe Brabazon, the Honourable David Granton, Count von Lebenstein, ProfessorSchleiermacher, Dr. Quackenboss, and others. He had not theslightest doubt of the man's identity. He could swear to himanywhere. I thought, for my own part, he was a trifle too cocksure. A certain amount of hesitation would have been better policy. Asto the various swindles, he detailed them in full, his evidence tobe supplemented by that of bank officials and other subordinates. In short, he left Finglemore not a leg to stand upon. When it came to the cross-examination, however, matters beganto assume quite a different complexion. The prisoner set out byquestioning Sir Charles's identifications. Was he sure of his man?He handed Charles a photograph. "Is that the person who representedhimself as the Reverend Richard Peploe Brabazon?" he askedpersuasively. Charles admitted it without a moment's delay. Just at that moment, a little parson, whom I had not noticed tillthen, rose up, unobtrusively, near the middle of the court, wherehe was seated beside Césarine. "Look at that gentleman!" the prisoner said, waving one hand, andpouncing upon the prosecutor. Charles turned and looked at the person indicated. His face grewstill whiter. It was--to all outer appearance--the Reverend RichardBrabazon in propriâ personâ. Of course I saw the trick. This was the real parson upon whose outerman Colonel Clay had modelled his little curate. But the jury wasshaken. And so was Charles for a moment. "Let the jurors see the photograph, " the judge said, authoritatively. It was passed round the jury-box, and the judge also examined it. We could see at once, by their faces and attitudes, they allrecognised it as the portrait of the clergyman before them--notof the prisoner in the dock, who stood there smiling blandly atCharles's discomfiture. The clergyman sat down. At the same moment the prisoner produced asecond photograph. "Now, can you tell me who _that_ is?" he asked Charles, in the regularbrow-beating Old Bailey voice. With somewhat more hesitation, Charles answered, after a pause:"That is yourself as you appeared in London when you came in thedisguise of the Graf von Lebenstein. " This was a crucial point, for the Lebenstein fraud was the one counton which our lawyers relied to prove their case most fully, withinthe jurisdiction. Even while Charles spoke, a gentleman whom I had noticed before, sitting beside White Heather, with a handkerchief to his face, rose as abruptly as the parson. Colonel Clay indicated him witha graceful movement of his hand. "And _this_ gentleman?" he askedcalmly. Charles was fairly staggered. It was the obvious original of thefalse Von Lebenstein. The photograph went round the box once more. The jury smiledincredulously. Charles had given himself away. His overweeningconfidence and certainty had ruined him. Then Colonel Clay, leaning forward, and looking quite engaging, began a new line of cross-examination. "We have seen, Sir Charles, "he said, "that we cannot implicitly trust your identifications. Nowlet us see how far we can trust your other evidence. First, then, about those diamonds. You tried to buy them, did you not, from aperson who represented himself as the Reverend Richard Brabazon, because you believed he thought they were paste; and if you could, you would have given him 10 pounds or so for them. _Do_ you thinkthat was honest?" "I object to this line of cross-examination, " our leading counselinterposed. "It does not bear on the prosecutor's evidence. It ispurely recriminatory. " Colonel Clay was all bland deference. "I wish, my lord, " he said, turning round, "to show that the prosecutor is a person unworthy ofcredence in any way. I desire to proceed upon the well-known legalmaxim of falsus in uno, falsus in omnibus. I believe I am permittedto shake the witness's credit?" "The prisoner is entirely within his rights, " Rhadamanth answered, looking severely at Charles. "And I was wrong in suggesting thathe needed the advice or assistance of counsel. " Charles wriggled visibly. Colonel Clay perked up. Bit by bit, withdexterous questions, Charles was made to acknowledge that he wantedto buy diamonds at the price of paste, knowing them to be real; and, a millionaire himself, would gladly have diddled a poor curate outof a couple of thousand. "I was entitled to take advantage of my special knowledge, " Charlesmurmured feebly. "Oh, certainly, " the prisoner answered. "But, while professingfriendship and affection for a clergyman and his wife, in straitenedcircumstances, you were prepared, it seems, to take three thousandpounds' worth of goods off their hands for ten pounds, if you couldhave got them at that price. Is not that so?" Charles was compelled to admit it. The prisoner went onto the David Granton incident. "When you offeredto amalgamate with Lord Craig-Ellachie, " he asked, "had you orhad you not heard that a gold-bearing reef ran straight from yourconcession into Lord Craig-Ellachie's, and that his portion of thereef was by far the larger and more important?" Charles wriggled again, and our counsel interposed; but Rhadamanthwas adamant. Charles had to allow it. And so, too, with the incident of the Slump in Golcondas. Unwillingly, shamefacedly, by torturing steps, Charles was compelledto confess that he had sold out Golcondas--he, the Chairman of thecompany, after repeated declarations to shareholders and othersthat he would do no such thing--because he thought ProfessorSchleiermacher had made diamonds worthless. He had endeavoured tosave himself by ruining his company. Charles tried to brazen it outwith remarks to the effect that business was business. "And fraud isfraud, " Rhadamanth added, in his pungent way. "A man must protect himself, " Charles burst out. "At the expense of those who have put their trust in his honour andintegrity, " the judge commented coldly. After four mortal hours of it, all to the same effect, my respectedbrother-in-law left the witness-box at last, wiping his brow andbiting his lip, with the very air of a culprit. His character hadreceived a most serious blow. While he stood in the witness-box allthe world had felt it was _he_ who was the accused and Colonel Claywho was the prosecutor. He was convicted on his own evidence ofhaving tried to induce the supposed David Granton to sell hisfather's interests into an enemy's hands, and of every other shadytrick into which his well-known business acuteness had unfortunatelyhurried him during the course of his adventures. I had but oneconsolation in my brother-in-law's misfortunes--and that was thethought that a due sense of his own shortcomings might possibly makehim more lenient in the end to the trivial misdemeanours of a poorbeggar of a secretary! _I_ was the next in the box. I do not desire to enlarge upon my ownachievements. I will draw a decent veil, indeed, over the painfulscene that ensued when I finished my evidence. I can only say I wasmore cautious than Charles in my recognition of the photographs;but I found myself particularly worried and harried over otherparts of my cross-examination. Especially was I shaken about thatmisguided step I took in the matter of the cheque for the Lebensteincommission--a cheque which Colonel Clay handed to me with the utmostpoliteness, requesting to know whether or not it bore my signature. I caught Charles's eye at the end of the episode, and I venture tosay the expression it wore was one of relief that I too had trippedover a trifling question of ten per cent on the purchase money ofthe castle. Altogether, I must admit, if it had not been for the policeevidence, we would have failed to make a case against our manat all. But the police, I confess, had got up their part of theprosecution admirably. Now that they knew Colonel Clay to bereally Paul Finglemore, they showed with great cleverness how PaulFinglemore's disappearances and reappearances in London exactlytallied with Colonel Clay's appearances and disappearanceselsewhere, under the guise of the little curate, the Seer, David Granton, and the rest of them. Furthermore, they showedexperimentally how the prisoner at the bar might have got himselfup in the various characters; and, by means of a wax bust, modelledby Dr. Beddersley from observations at Bow Street, and aided byadditions in the gutta-percha composition after Dolly Lingfield'sphotographs, they succeeded in proving that the face as it stoodcould be readily transformed into the faces of Medhurst and DavidGranton. Altogether, their cleverness and trained acumen made upon the whole for Charles's over-certainty, and they succeeded inputting before the jury a strong case of their own against PaulFinglemore. The trial occupied three days. After the first of the three, myrespected brother-in-law preferred, as he said, not to prejudice thecase against the prisoner by appearing in court again. He did noteven allude to the little matter of the ten per cent commissionfurther than to say at dinner that evening that all men were boundto protect their own interests--as secretaries or as principals. This I took for forgiveness; and I continued diligently to attendthe trial, and watch the case in my employer's interest. The defence was ingenious, even if somewhat halting. It consistedsimply of an attempt to prove throughout that Charles and I had madeour prisoner the victim of a mistaken identity. Finglemore put intothe box the ingenuous original of the little curate--the ReverendSeptimus Porkington, as it turned out, a friend of his family; andhe showed that it was the Reverend Septimus himself who had sat toa photographer in Baker Street for the portrait which Charles toohastily identified as that of Colonel Clay in his personification ofMr. Richard Brabazon. He further elicited the fact that the portraitof the Count von Lebenstein was really taken from Dr. Julius Keppel, a Tyrolese music-master, residing at Balham, whom he put into thebox, and who was well known, as it chanced, to the foreman of thejury. Gradually he made it clear to us that no portraits existed ofColonel Clay at all, except Dolly Lingfield's--so it dawned uponme by degrees that even Dr. Beddersley could only have been misledif we had succeeded in finding for him the alleged photographs ofColonel Clay as the count and the curate, which had been shown usby Medhurst. Altogether, the prisoner based his defence upon thefact that no more than two witnesses directly identified him; whileone of those two had positively sworn that he recognised as theprisoner's two portraits which turned out, by independent evidence, to be taken from other people! The judge summed up in a caustic way which was pleasant to neitherparty. He asked the jury to dismiss from their minds entirely theimpression created by what he frankly described as "Sir CharlesVandrift's obvious dishonesty. " They must not allow the fact that hewas a millionaire--and a particularly shady one--to prejudice theirfeelings in favour of the prisoner. Even the richest--and vilest--ofmen must be protected. Besides, this was a public question. If arogue cheated a rogue, he must still be punished. If a murdererstabbed or shot a murderer, he must still be hung for it. Societymust see that the worst of thieves were not preyed upon by others. Therefore, the proved facts that Sir Charles Vandrift, with all hismillions, had meanly tried to cheat the prisoner, or some other poorperson, out of valuable diamonds--had basely tried to juggle LordCraig-Ellachie's mines into his own hands--had vilely tried to bribea son to betray his father--had directly tried, by underhand means, to save his own money, at the risk of destroying the wealth ofothers who trusted to his probity--these proved facts must notblind them to the truth that the prisoner at the bar (if he werereally Colonel Clay) was an abandoned swindler. To that point alonethey must confine their attention; and _if_ they were convinced thatthe prisoner was shown to be the self-same man who appeared onvarious occasions as David Granton, as Von Lebenstein, as Medhurst, as Schleiermacher, they must find him guilty. As to that point, also, the judge commented on the obvious strengthof the police case, and the fact that the prisoner had not attemptedin any one out of so many instances to prove an alibi. Surely, ifhe were _not_ Colonel Clay, the jury should ask themselves, must itnot have been simple and easy for him to do so? Finally, the judgesummed up all the elements of doubt in the identification--and allthe elements of probability; and left it to the jury to draw theirown conclusions. They retired at the end to consider their verdict. While they wereabsent every eye in court was fixed on the prisoner. But PaulFinglemore himself looked steadily towards the further end of thehall, where two pale-faced women sat together, with handkerchiefsin their hands, and eyes red with weeping. Only then, as he stood there, awaiting the verdict, with a fixedwhite face, prepared for everything, did I begin to realise withwhat courage and pluck that one lone man had sustained so long anunequal contest against wealth, authority, and all the Governmentsof Europe, aided but by his own skill and two feeble women! Onlythen did I feel he had played his reckless game through all thoseyears with _this_ ever before him! I found it hard to picture. The jury filed slowly back. There was dead silence in court as theclerk put the question, "Do you find the prisoner at the bar guiltyor not guilty?" "We find him guilty. " "On all the counts?" "On all the counts of the indictment. " The women at the back burst into tears, unanimously. Mr. Justice Rhadamanth addressed the prisoner. "Have you anythingto urge, " he asked in a very stern tone, "in mitigation of whateversentence the Court may see fit to pass upon you?" "Nothing, " the prisoner answered, just faltering slightly. "I havebrought it upon myself--but--I have protected the lives of thosenearest and dearest to me. I have fought hard for my own hand. Iadmit my crime, and will face my punishment. I only regret that, since we were both of us rogues--myself and the prosecutor--thelesser rogue should have stood here in the dock, and the greater inthe witness-box. Our country takes care to decorate each accordingto his deserts--to him, the Grand Cross of St. Michael and St. George; to me, the Broad Arrow!" The judge gazed at him severely. "Paul Finglemore, " he said, passingsentence in his sardonic way, "you have chosen to dedicate to theservice of fraud abilities and attainments which, if turned from theoutset into a legitimate channel, would no doubt have sufficed tosecure you without excessive effort a subsistence one degree abovestarvation--possibly even, with good luck, a sordid and squalidcompetence. You have preferred to embark them on a lawless life ofvice and crime--and I will not deny that you seem to have had a goodrun for your money. Society, however, whose mouthpiece I am, cannotallow you any longer to mock it with impunity. You have broken itslaws openly, and you have been found out. " He assumed the tone ofbland condescension which always heralds his severest moments. "Isentence you to Fourteen Years' Imprisonment, with Hard Labour. " The prisoner bowed, without losing his apparent composure. But hiseyes strayed away again to the far end of the hall, where the twoweeping women, with a sudden sharp cry, fell at once in a faint onone another's shoulders, and were with difficulty removed from courtby the ushers. As we left the room, I heard but one comment all round, thus voicedby a school-boy: "I'd a jolly sight rather it had been old Vandrift. This Clay chap's too clever by half to waste on a prison!" But he went there, none the less--in that "cool sequestered valeof life" to recover equilibrium; though I myself half regretted it. I will add but one more little parting episode. When all was over, Charles rushed off to Cannes, to get away fromthe impertinent stare of London. Amelia and Isabel and I went withhim. We were driving one afternoon on the hills beyond the town, among the myrtle and lentisk scrub, when we noticed in front of usa nice victoria, containing two ladies in very deep mourning. Wefollowed it, unintentionally, as far as Le Grand Pin--that big pinetree that looks across the bay towards Antibes. There, the ladiesdescended and sat down on a knoll, gazing out disconsolately towardsthe sea and the islands. It was evident they were suffering verydeep grief. Their faces were pale and their eyes bloodshot. "Poorthings!" Amelia said. Then her tone altered suddenly. "Why, good gracious, " she cried, "if it isn't Césarine!" So it was--with White Heather! Charles got down and drew near them. "I beg your pardon, " he said, raising his hat, and addressing Madame Picardet: "I believe I havehad the pleasure of meeting you. And since I have doubtless paid inthe end for your victoria, _may_ I venture to inquire for whom youare in mourning?" White Heather drew back, sobbing; but Césarine turned to him, fieryred, with the mien of a lady. "For _him_!" she answered; "for Paul!for our king, whom _you_ have imprisoned! As long as _he_ remainsthere, we have both of us decided to wear mourning for ever!" Charles raised his hat again, and drew back without one word. He waved his hand to Amelia and walked home with me to Cannes. He seemed deeply dejected. "A penny for your thoughts!" I exclaimed, at last, in a joculartone, trying feebly to rouse him. He turned to me, and sighed. "I was wondering, " he answered, "if_I_ had gone to prison, would Amelia and Isabel have done as muchfor me?" For myself, I did _not_ wonder. I knew pretty well. For Charles, youwill admit, though the bigger rogue of the two, is scarcely the kindof rogue to inspire a woman with profound affection. THE END