AN OLD MEERSCHAUM

By David Christie Murray

From Coals Of Fire And Other StoriesBy David Christie MurrayIn Three Volumes Vol. II. 

Chatto & Windus, Piccadilly 1882

CHAPTER I. 

The market-place at Trieste lay in a blaze of colour under the Junesunlight. The scent of fruits and flowers was heavy on the air. Afaint-hearted breeze which scarcely dared to blow came up from theharbour now and again, and made the heat just bearable. Mr. WilliamHolmes Barndale, of Barndale in the county of Surrey, and King's BenchWalk-, Temple, sat in shadow in front of a restaurant with his legscomfortably thrust forth and his hat tilted over his eyes. He pulled histawny beard lazily with one hand, and with the other caressed a greattumbler of iced beer. He was beautifully happy in his perfect idleness, and a sense was upon him of the eternal fitness of things in general. In the absolute serenity of his beatitude he fell asleep, with one handstill lazily clutching his beard, and the other still lingering lovinglynear the great tumbler. This was surely not surprising, and on theface of things it would not have seemed that there was any reason forblushing at him. Yet a young lady, unmistakably English and undeniablypretty, gave a great start, beholding him, and blushed celestial rosyred. She was passing along the shady side of the square with papa andmamma, and the start and the blush came in with some hurried commonplacein answer to a commonplace. These things, papa and mamma notednot--good, easy, rosy, wholesome people, who had no great trouble inkeeping their heads clear of fancies, and were chiefly engaged just thenwith devices for keeping cool. 

Two minutes later, or thereabouts, came that way a young gentleman ofwhom the pretty young lady seemed a refined and feminine copy, save andexcept that the young lady was dearly and daintily demure, whilst fromthis youth impudence and mischief shone forth as light radiates froma lantern. He, pausing before the sleeping Barndale, blushed not, butpoked him in the ribs with the end of his walking-stick, and regardedhim with an eye of waggish joy, as who should say that to poke asleeping man in the ribs was a stroke of comic genius whereof the worldhad never beheld the like. He sat on his stick, cocked Mr. Barndale'shat on one side, and awaited that gentleman's waking. Mr. Barndale, languidly stretching himself, arose, adjusted his hat, took a greatdrink of iced beer, and, being thereby in some degree primed forconversation, spoke. 

'That you, Jimmy?' said Mr. Barndale. 

'Billy, my boy?' said the awakener, 'how are you?'

'Thought you were in Oude, or somewhere, ' said Mr. Barndale. 

'Been back six months, ' the other answered. 

'Anybody with you here?'

'Yes, ' said the awakener, 'the Mum, the Pater, and the Kid. '

Mr. Barndale did not look like the sort of man to be vastly shocked atthese terms of irreverence, yet it is a fact that his brown and beardedcheeks flushed like any schoolgirl's. 

'Stopping at the Hotel de la Ville, ' said the awakener, 'and adoing ofthe Grand Tower, my pippin. I'm playing cicerone. Come up and have asmoke and a jaw. '

'All right, ' said Mr. Barndale languidly. Nobody, to look at him now, would have guessed how fast his heart beat, and how every nerve in hisbody fluttered. 'I'm at the same place. When did you come?'

'Three hours ago. We're going on to Constantinople. Boat starts at six. '

'Ah!' said Barndale placidly. '_I'm_ going on to Constantinople too. '

'Now that's what I call jolly, ' said the other. 'You're going to-nightof course?'

'Of course. Nothing to stay here for. '

At the door of the hotel stood Barndale's servant, a sober-lookingScotchman dressed in dark tweed. 

'Come with me, Bob, ' said Barndale as he passed him. 'See you in thecoffee-room in five minutes, Jimmy. '

In his own room Barndale sat down upon the bedside and addressed hisservant. 

'I have changed my mind about going home. Go to Lloyd's office and takeplaces for this evening's boat to Constantinople. Wait a bit. Let me seewhat the fare is. There you are. Pack up and get everything down to theboat and wait there until I come. '

The man disappeared, and Barndale joined his friend. He had scarceseated himself when a feminine rustling was heard outside. The dooropened, a voice of singular sweetness cried, 'Jimmy, dear!' and a younglady entered. It was the young lady who blushed and started when she sawBarndale asleep in front of the restaurant. She blushed again, but heldher hand frankly out to him. He rose and took it with more tendernessthan he knew of. The eyes of the third person twinkled, and he winked athis own reflection in a mirror. 

'This, ' Barndale said, 'is not an expected pleasure, and is allthe greater on that account. By a curious coincidence I find we aretravelling together to Constantinople. '

Her hand still lingered in his whilst he said this, and as he ceased tospeak he gave it a little farewell pressure. Her sweet hazel eyesquite beamed upon him, and she returned the pressure cordially. But sheanswered only--

'Papa will be very pleased, '

'Isn't it singular, ' said the guilty Barndale with an air of commonplaceupon him, 'that we should all be making this journey together?'

'Very singular indeed, ' said pretty Miss Le-land, with so bright asparkle of mirth in those demure hazel eyes that Barndale, withoutknowing why, felt himself confounded. 

Mr. James Leland winked once more at his reflection in the mirror, andwas discovered in the act by Barndale, who became signally disconcertedin manner. 

Miss Leland relieved his embarrassment by taking away her brother for aconference respecting the package of certain treasures purchased a dayor two before in Venice. The lone one smoked, and lounged, and waited. He tried to read, and gave it up. He strayed down to the harbour, and, finding his servant solemnly mounting guard over his luggage on boardthe boat, he himself went aboard and in-spected his berth, and chattedwith the steward, in whom he discovered an old acquaintance. 

But the time went drearily; and Barndale, who was naturally a man to behappy under all sorts of circumstances, suffered all the restlessness, chagrin, and envy with which love in certain of its stages has power todisturb the spirit. He had made up a most heroic mind on this questionof Miss Leland some three months ago, and had quite decided that shedid not care for him. He wasn't going to break his heart for a woman whodidn't care for him. Not he. 

 If she be not fair for me, What care I how fair she be?

She had made fun of him in her own demure way. He ventured once on alittle touch of sentiment, which she never neglected to repeat, whenopportunity offered, in his presence. She repeated it with so serious anair, so precisely as if it were an original notion which had just thenoccurred to her, that Barndale winced under it every time she used it. His mind was quite made up on this matter. He would go away and forgether. He believed she liked him, in a friendly sisterly sort of way, and that made him feel more hopeless. There were evidences enough toconvince you or me, had we been there to watch them, that this younglady was caught in the toils of love quite as inextricably as this younggentleman; but, with the pigheaded obstinacy and stupidity incident tohis condition, he declined to see it, and voluntarily betook himself tomisery, after the manner of young men in love from time immemorial. Amaiden who can be caught without chasing is pretty generally notworth catching; and cynics have been known to say that the pleasureof stalking your bride is perhaps the best part of matrimony. This ouryoung Barndale would not have believed. He believed, rather, that thetender hopes and chilling fears of love were among the chief pains oflife, and would have laughed grimly if anyone had prophesied that hewould ever look back to them with longing regret. We, who are wiser, will not commiserate but envy this young gentleman, remembering thetime when those tender hopes and chilling fears were ours--when we werehappier in our miseries than we have now the power to be in our joys. 

The Lelands came at last, and Barndale had got the particular form oflove's misery which he most coveted. The old gentleman was cordial, theold lady was effusive, the awakener was what he had always been, andLilian was what she had always been to Barndale--a bewildering maddeningwitchery, namely, which set him fairly beside himself. Let it not beprejudicial to him in your judgment that you see him for the first timeunder these foolish circumstances. Under other conditions you wouldfind much to admire in him. Even now, if you have any taste forlive statuary, you shall admire this upright six feet two inches offinely-modelled bone and muscle. If manly good-nature can make a handsomesun-browned face pleasant to you, then shall Barndale's countenance findfavour in your eyes. Of his manly ways, his good and honest heart, thisstory will tell you something, though perchance not much. If you do notlike Barndale before you part with him, believe me, it is my fault, whotell his story clumsily, and not his. For the lady of his love theremight be more to say, if I were one of those clever people who readwomen. As it is, you shall make your own reading of her, and shalldislike her on your own personal responsibility, or love her for hertransparent merits, and for the sake of no stupid analysis of mine. 

Do you know the Adriatic? It pleases me to begin a love story over itstranslucent sapphire and under its heavenly skies. I shall rejoice againin its splendours as I hover in fancy over these two impressionableyoung hearts, to whom a new glamour lives upon its beauties. 

Papa and Mamma Leland are placidly asleep on the saloon deck, beneaththe flapping awning. Leland Junior is carrying on a pronouncedflirtation with a little Greek girl, and Lilian and Barndale are eachenjoying their own charming spiritual discomforts. They say little, but, like the famous parrot, they think the more. Concerning one thing, however, Mr. Barndale thinks long and deeply, pulling his tawny beardmeanwhile. Lilian, gazing with placid-seeming spirit on the deep, isapparently startled by the suddenness of his address. 

'Miss Leland!'

'How you startled me!' she answers, turning her hazel eyes upon him. Shehas been waiting these last five minutes for him to speak, and knew thathe was about it. But take notice that these small deceits in the gentlesex are natural, and by no means immoral. 

'I am disturbed in mind, ' says Barndale, blushing a httle behind hisbronze, 'about an incident of yesterday. '

'Conscience, ' says Lilian, calmly didactic, 'will assert herselfoccasionally. '

'Conscience, ' says Barndale, blushing a httle more perceptibly, 'hashttle to do with this disturbance. Why did you laugh when I said that itwas singular that we should be making this pleasant journey together?'

'Did I laugh?' she asked demurely. Then quite suddenly, and with an airof denunciation. 

'Ask James. '

Barndale rises obediently. 

'No, no, ' says the lady. 'Sit down, Mr. Barndale. I was only joking. There was no reason. ' And now the young lady is blushing. 'Did I reallylaugh?'

'You smiled, ' says the guilty Barndale. 'At what?' inquires she withinnocent inadvertency. 

'Oh!' cries the young fellow, laughing outright, 'that is too bad. Why_did_ you laugh when I said it was singular?'

'I am not prepared, ' she answers, 'to account for all my smiles ofyesterday. '

'Then, ' says Barndale, 'I'll go and ask Jimmy. '

'You will do nothing of the kind. '

'Why?'

'Because you are too polite, Mr. Barndale, to pry into a lady'ssecrets. '

'There is a secret here, then?'

'No. '

'You are contradictory, Miss Leland?'

'You are obtuse, Mr. Barndale. If there be a secret it is as openas----'

'As what?'

'As your door was yesterday when you spoke to your servant. '

'Then you----?'

'Yes, ' responds Miss Lilian, severely. I know you gentlemen. You weregoing home until you met that idle and dissolute James, by accident. Then you suddenly change your mind, and go out to Constantinople. ' Therefor a moment she pauses and follows up her victory over the now crimsonBarndale with a terrible whisper. '_On the spree_! Oh, you need scarcelylook surprised. I have learned your vulgar terms from James. '

'I hope I am not so criminal as you fancy, ' says Barndale, finding theproof of his guilt fall less heavily than he had feared. 

'If you were thrice as criminal, this is not the tribunal, ' and shewaves her parasol round her feet, 'at which the felon should be tried. '

'But, Miss Leland, if it were not because I met your brother that--Icame out here! If there were another reason!'

'If there were another reason I confess my smile out of time andapologise for it. ' And therewith she shot him through and through withanother smile. It was fatal to both, for he in falling caught her withhim. These things have a habit of occurring all at once, and in anythingrather than the meditated fashion. 

'Lilian, ' said the young Barndale, inwardly delirious at his own daringand the supernal beauty of her smile, but on the outside of him quitecalm and assured, and a trifle masterful, 'I came because I learned thatyou were com-ing. If you are displeased with me for that, I will land atCorfu and go home. And bury my misery, ' he added in a tone so hollow andsepulchral that you or I had laughed. 

Miss Leland sat quite grave with downcast eyes. 

'Are you displeased?'

'I have no right to be displeased, ' she murmured. 

Of course you and I can see quite clearly that he might have kissed herthere and then, and settled the business, murmuring 'Mine own!' But hewas in love, which we are not, and chose to interpret that pretty murmurwrongly. So there fell upon the pair an awkward silence. He was thefirst to break it. 

'I will land at Corfu, ' he said, with intense penitence. 

'But not--not because of my displeasure, ' she answered; a little toogaily for the gaiety to be quite real. 

'Ah, then!' he said, catching at this ark of perfect safety, whichlooked like a straw to his love-blinded eyes, 'you are not displeased?'

'No, ' she answered lightly, still playing with him, now she felt sosure of him, and inwardly melting and yearning over him; 'I am notdispleased. '

'But are you pleased?' said he, growing bolder. ' Are you pleased that Icame because you came--because I------?'

There he paused, and she took a demure look at him. He burst out all atonce in a whisper--

'Because I love you?'

She did not answer him; but when next she looked at him he saw that thetears had gathered thickly in her lovely eyes. 

'You are not pained at that, ' he said. 'I have loved you ever since thatday you were at my place in Surrey, when you came down with Jimmy, andmy poor old dad was there. '

'Yes, ' she said, looking up again, and smiling through the dimness ofher eyes, 'I know. '

And so it came about that, when Leland Senior awoke, Barndale held aconference with him, which terminated in a great shaking of hands. Therewas another conference between Lilian and her mother, which ended, as itbegan, in tears, and kisses, and smiles. Tears, and kisses, and smilesmade a running accompaniment to that second conference, and tenderembraces broke in upon it often. It was settled between them all--papa, and mamma, and the lovers--that they should finish the journey together, and that the marriage should be solemnised a year after their arrivalat home. It goes without saying that Barndale looked on this delay withvery little approval. But Leland Senior insisted on it stoutly, andcarried his point. And even in spite of this the young people weretolerably happy. They were together a good deal, and, in the particularstage at which they had arrived, the mere fact of being together is abliss and a wonder. Leigh Hunt--less read in these days than he deservesto be--sings truly--

Heaven's in any roof that covers On any one same night two lovers. 

They went about in a state of Elysian beatitude, these young people. Love worked strange metamorphoses, as he does always. They found newjoys in Tennyson, and rejoiced in the wonderful colours of the waves. Iam not laughing at them for these things. I first read Tennyson when Iwas in love, and liked him, and understood him a great deal better thanI have been able to do since I came out of Love's dear bondages. To bein love is a delicious and an altogether admirable thing. I would be inlove again to-morrow if I could. You should be welcome to your foolishlaugh at my raptures. Ah me! I shall never know those raptures any more;and the follies you will laugh at in me will be less noble, less tender, less innocently beautiful than those of young love. But to them, who were so sweet to each other, the moonlight was a revelation ofmarvellous sanctity, and the sea was holy by reason of their passionatehearts that hallowed it. 

CHAPTER II. 

Incidental mention has been made of the fact that Leland Junior engagedin a pronounced flirtation with a little Greek girl aboard the vesselwherein Barndale made love so stupidly and so successfully. It was outof this incident that the strange story which follows arose. It wouldnot have been easy to tell that story without relating the episodejust concluded; and when one has to be tragic it is well to soften thehorrors by a little love-making, or some other such emollient. I regretto say that the little Greek girl--who was tyrannously pretty by theway--was as thorough-paced a little flirt as ever yet the psychicphilosopher dissected. She had very large eyes, and very pretty lips, and a very saucy manner with a kind of inviting shyness in it. JimmyLeland's time had not yet come, or I know no reason why he should nothave succumbed to this charming young daughter of Hellas. As it was, heflirted hugely, and cared not for her one copper halfpenny. She was alittle taken with him, and was naturally a little indiscreet. Otherwisesurely she would never have consented to meet James at the ConcordiaGarden on the evening of their arrival at Constantinople. He had been inConstantinople before, and was 'down to the ropes, ' as he preferred tosay. He made his appointment with the young lady and kept it, slippingout from Misserie's, and leaving the other members of his party triflingwith their dessert at that dreary table d'hôte, and lost in wonder atthe execrable pictures which are painted in distemper upon the wallsof that dismal salle à manger. He strolled down the Grande Rue de Pera, drank a liqueur at Valori's, and turned into the Concordia in the summerdusk. He sat down at one of the little wooden tables, and aired hisTurkish before the waiter by orders for vishnap, limoni, and attesh. Then he crossed his legs, lit his cigar, and waited and watched for thelittle Greek lady. The little Greek lady came not; but in her stead, as he watched the entrance place, appeared the manly form of his chumBarndale, clad in loose white serge. Barndale caught sight of Lelandalmost at the moment of his own entrance, and took a seat beside him. 

'Lilian has gone to bed, ' said Barndale, 'and I came in here byaccident. Glad I found you. '

He looked about him with no great interest. The stream of people flowedround and round the little circle, and repeated itself once in fiveminutes or thereabouts, until he got to know nearly all the faces in thecrowd. He noted one face especially, where many were notable. 

It was the face of a Greek of a very severe and commanding type, shadowed in some strange way by a look which made the owner of theface absolutely irritating to Barndale. There are some opposites innature--human nature--which can only meet to hate each other. These twocrossed glances once, and each was displeased with what he saw inthe other. The Greek saw a handsome, good-natured, bronzed face, thethoughtful eyes whereof looked at him with an expression of curiosityand analysis. The Englishman saw a pair of languid eyes, which flashedinstantaneous defiance and anger back to scrutiny. The Greek went by, and in his after passages looked no more at Barndale, who continuedto watch him with an unaccountable, disliking regard. The crowd hadcompleted its circle some half score of times, and Barndale missed hisGreek from it. Turning to address Leland, he missed him too. He rose andmingled with the circling procession, and listened to the music of theband, and speculated idly on the people who surrounded him, as lazy andunoccupied men will at times. Suddenly, in the shadow of the projectingorchestra, he caught sight of a figure which he fancied was familiar tohim. Scarcely had he noticed it when it was joined by another figure, recognisable at once even in that deep shadow--Mr. James Leland. And theother personage was of course the pretty little Greek girl. 'No affairof mine, ' said Barndale, who was slow to meddle, even in thought, withother people's doings; 'but neither wise nor right on Jimmy's side, ' Hewalked round the little circle discontentedly, thinking this matterover with deepening displeasure. When he came to the orchestra againthe handsome Greek was there, with an expression so devilish on his facethat Barndale regarded him with amazement. Demetri Agryopoulo, salariedhanger-on to the Persian embassy, was glaring like a roused wild beastat these two shadowy figures in the shadow of the orchestra. The bandwas crashing away at the overture to 'Tannhäuser, ' the people werelaughing and chattering as they circled, and not an eye but Barndale'sregarded this drama in the corner. The Greek's hand was in his bosom, where it clutched something with an ugly gesture. His face was in thesideway glare of the footlights which illumined the orchestra. Leland, unconscious of observation, stooped above the girl and chatted with her. He had one arm about her waist. She was nestling up to him in a trustfulsort of way. Barndale's eyes were on the Greek, and every muscle in hisbody was ready for the spring which he knew might have to be made at anyminute. Leland stooped lower, and kissed the face upturned to his. Atthat second the band gave its final crash, and dead silence fell. Out ofthat dead silence came a shriek of wrath, and hatred, and anguish fromDemetri Agryopoulo's lips, and he leaped into the shadow with a handupraised, and in the hand a blade that glittered as he raised it, Oneimpulse seemed to shoot forth the jealous Greek and his watcher, andbefore Demetri Agryopoulo could form the faintest notion as to how thething had happened, a sudden thunderbolt seemed launched against him, and he was lying all abroad with a sprained wrist. The stiletto flewclean over the wall, so swift and dexterous was the twist which Barndalegave the murderous hand that held it. 

'Get the girl away, ' said Barndale rapidly to Leland. The crowd gatheredround, alarmed, curious, eager to observe. Barndale helped the Greekto his feet. 'Are you hurt?' he asked. Demetri glared at him, felt hissprained right wrist with his left hand, picked up his hat, shook offthe dust from his disordered clothes, and went his way without a word. Barndale went his way also. The band crashed out again, and the crowdonce more began its circle. When a torpedo is lowered into the sea, thewound it makes in the water is soon healed. But the torpedo goes on andexplodes by-and-by, with terrible likelihood of damage. 

Barndale came down heavily on Leland, in the latter's bedroom at thehotel, that night. 

'Well, ' said Jimmy, in sole answer to his friend's remonstrance andblame; 'there's one thing about the matter which may be looked on as adead certainty. The beggar would have had my blood if it hadn't been foryou, old man. It's only one more good turn out of a million, Billy, butI shan't forget it. '

With that he arose and shook Barndale's hand. 

'What did you do with the girl?' asked Barndale. 

'Took her home. The Bloke who had such strong objections to me is hersweetheart. 

He's engaged to her; but she says she hates him, and is afraid of him. She'll be more afraid of him now than ever, and with better reason. I suppose I shall have to stop here a time, and see that she isn'tmurdered. Suppose I went to that Greek sweep, Billy--I've got hisaddress--and explained to him politely that it was all a mistake, andthat I'm sorry I went poaching on his manor, and told him that if heliked to have a pot at me he'd be quite welcome! D'ye think that wouldbe of any use, old man?'

'Leave ill alone!' said Barndale, pulling solemnly away at his pipe. 

'I can't, ' answered Leland. 'That cove's likelier to murder her thannot, if he hasn't got me to murder. Look here, Billy, I'll marry thegirl. '

'Don't be a fool, ' said Barndale. 'What do you know about the girl?'

'Lots, ' answered the imperturbable James. 

'Highly connected. Lots of tin. Character irreproachable. That elderlyBulgarian party, Kesanlyk Attar of Roses man, knew all about her. Thefat Bloke aboard the boat. You know. '

'He won't hurt her, ' said Barndale, thinking of the Greek lover, 'andyou're well out of it. Why should you marry the girl? There's nothingworse than I know, is there?'

'There's nothing at all in it but that confounded meeting at theConcordia. '

'Keep out of the way of the man in future, ' Barndale counselled hisfriend, ' and leave him and his ladylove to make this matter up betweenthem. That'll all blow over in time. ' With that he said good-night, androse to go. At the door he turned and asked--

'Who is the man?'

Leland produced his pocket-book, searched for a page, found it, andhanded it over to. Barndale. There, in a delicate but tremulous hand, was written, 'Demetri Agryopoulo, Hotel Misserie, Grande Rue de Pera. '

'He lives in this house, ' said Barndale gravely. 'Lock your door beforeyou go to bed. '

Leland took his advice. 

The next morning at table d'hôte they met the Greek. He was evidentlywell known at the table, and was popular. His right wrist was bandaged, and in answer to many friendly inquiries, he said it had been sprainedby a fall. He never looked at either Barndale or Leland, but chattedwith his friends in a free and unembarrassed way which extorted theadmiration of the two Englishmen, who were both somewhat silent anduncomfortable. But in Lilian's society it was not possible for Barndaleto be gravely thoughtful just now. The business of the day was a trip tothe Sweet Waters of Europe. Jimmy, who had been caught by that charmingtitle on a former visit, proclaimed the show a swindle, and the SweetWaters a dreary and dirty canal; but Lilian and her mother must needs goand see what everybody else went to see; and so an open vehicle havingwith infinitude of trouble been procured, and George Stamos, bestof dragomans and staunchest of campaigning comrades, being engaged, Barndale and Leland mounted and rode behind the carriage. Papa Leland, in white serge and a big straw hat with a bigger puggaree on it, winkedbenevolent in the dazzling sunlight. ' The party crawled along the GrandeRue, and once off its execrable pavement took the road at a moderatelygood pace, saw the sights, enjoyed the drive, and started for homeagain, very much disappointed with the Sweet Waters, and but poorlyimpressed with the environs of Constantinople on the whole. On thereturn journey an accident happened which sent grief to Barn-dale'ssoul. 

Five or six years ago, wandering aimlessly in Venice, Barndale had anadventure. He met a sculptor, a young Italian, by name Antoletti, aman of astonishing and daring genius. This man was engaged on a workof exquisite proportions--'Madeline and Porphyro' he called it. He haddenied himself the very necessaries of life, as genius will, to buyhis marble and to hire his studio. He had paid a twelvemonth's rentin advance, not daring to trust hunger with the money. He lived, poorfellow, by carving meerschaum pipes for the trade, but he lived _for_'Madeline and Porphyro' and his art. It took Barndale a long time to getinto this young artist's confidence; but he got there at last, and madea bid for 'Madeline and Porphyro, ' and paid something in advance for it, and had the work completed. He sold it to a connoisseur at an amazingprofit, handed that profit to young Antoletti, and made a man of him. 'What can I do for you?' the artist asked him with all his gratefulItalian soul on fire, and the tears sparkling in his beautiful Italianeyes. Barn-dale hesitated awhile: 'You won't feel hurt, ' he said atlength, 'if I seem to ask too small a thing. I'm a great smoker, and Ishould like a souvenir now I'm going away. Would you mind carving me apipe, now? It would be pleasant to have a trifle like that turned out bythe hands of genius. I should prize it more than a statue. ' 'Ah!' saidAntoletti, beaming on him, 'ah, signor! you shall have it. It shall bethe last pipe I will ever carve, and I will remember you whilst Icarve it. ' So the pipe was carved--a work of exquisitely intricate anddelicate art. On the rear of the bowl, in view of the smoker, wasa female face with a wreath of flowers about the forehead, and withflowers and grapes hanging down in graceful intermingling withflowing bands of hair. These flowers ran into ragged weeds andbedraggled-looking grasses on the other side, and from these grinned adeath's head. In at the open mouth of the skull and out at the eyes, andwrapped in sinuous windings at the base, coiled a snake. The pipe wasnot over large, for all its wealth of ornamentation. Barndale had hungover it when he smoked it first with the care of an affectionate nurseover a baby. It had rewarded his cares by colouring magnificently untilit had grown a deep equable ebony everywhere. Not a trace of burnor scratch defaced its surface, and no touch of its first beauty wasdestroyed by use. Apart from its memories, Barndale would not have soldthat pipe except at some astounding figure, which nobody would ever havebeen likely to bid for it. The precious souvenir was in his pocket, snugin its case. In an evil hour he drew it out, tenderly filled it and litit. He and Leland were riding at a walk, and there seemed no danger, when suddenly his horse shied violently, and with the shock crash wentBarndale's teeth through the delicate amber, and the precious pipe fellto the roadway. Barndale was down in a second, and picked it up in twopieces. The stem was broken within an inch of the marvellous bowl. Helamented over it with a chastened grief which here and there a smokerand an enthusiast will understand. The pathos of the situation may becaviare to the general, but the true amateur in pipes will sympathisewith him. I have an ugly old meerschaum of my own which cheered methrough a whole campaign, and, poor as I am, I would not part with it orbreak it for the price of this story. 

Barndale was displaying his mangled darling to Papa Leland in the salleà manger, when Demetri Agryopoulo came in with a friend and went outagain after a stay of two or three minutes. Barndale did not notice him, but Jimmy met him point-blank at the door, and made way for him to pass. The two friends crossed over to Stamboul and went to the bazaar withtheir dragoman, and there chaffered with a skilled old Turkish artificerwho asked just ten times what he meant to take for the job, and finallytook it at only twice his bottom price. A silver band was all it neededto restore it, and it was promised that the work should be done and thepipe ready to be called for at noon on the morrow. It chanced that asthe friends left the bazaar they ran full against their Greek enemy, whoraised his hat with well-dissembled rage, and stalked on. The Greek byill hap passed the stall of the man to whom the precious pipe had beenentrusted. Barn-dale had smoked this remarkable pipe that morning in theGreek's view in the reading-room, and Demetri knew it again at a glance. It lay there on the open stall in its open case. Now DemetriAgryopoulo was not a thief, and would have scorned theft under commoncircumstances. But, for revenge, and its sweet sake, there was nobaseness to which he would not stoop. The stall's phlegmatic proprietordrowsed with the glass mouthpiece of his narghilly between his lips. The opposite shops were empty. Not a soul observed. Demetri Agryopouloput forth his hand and seized the pipe. The case closed with a littlesnap, the whole thing went like lightning into his breast pocket, andhe sauntered on. He had heard Barndale's lament to Leland Senior: 'Iwouldn't have done it, ' said Barndale, 'for a hundred pounds--for fivehundred. It was the most valued souvenir I have. ' So Agryopoulo Beymarched off happy in his revengeful mind. There was quite a whirlwindof emotion in the old Turk's stall at noon on the following day. Theprecious wonderful pipe, souvenir of dead Antoletti, greatest of modernsculptors, had disappeared, none could say whither. The old Turk was hadup before the British Consul; but his character for honesty, his knownwealth, the benevolence of his character, his own good honest old face, all pleaded too strongly for him. He was ordered to pay the price seton the pipe; but Barndale refused to take a price for it, and the oldartificer and tradesman thereupon thanked him with flowing and beautifulOriental courtesy. It was settled that the pipe had been stolen from thestall by some passer-by, but, as a matter of course, no suspicion fellupon the Greek. Why should it?

When the time came for the little party to leave Constantinople, and totake the boat for Smyrna, Barndale and his friend went first aboard withpackages of Eastern produce bought for Lilian; and Lilian herself withher father and mother followed half-an-hour later, under the care of thefaithful George, whom I delight to remember. The Greek was aboardwhen the two young Englishmen reached the boat. To their surprise headdressed them. 

Lifting his hat formally he said, in admirable English:

'Gentlemen, our quarrel is not over, but it can wait for a little time. We shall meet again. '

With that he bowed and turned away. Leland ran after him, and, uncovering, stood bareheaded before him. 

'I owe you an apology, ' he said. 'I am extremely sorry and very muchashamed of my part in the quarrel. '

'I care little for your shame, ' said Demetri Agryopoulo, with his voicequite low and calm and his eyes ablaze. 'I do not care about your shame, but you shall live to be more sorry than you are. '

He went down the ladder by the side of the boat, and was pulled away ina caique. As he went he laughed to himself, and pulled out Barndale'spipe--remembrancer of his mean triumph, since repaired by his own hands. He filled and lit it, smoking calmly as the sturdy caiquejee pulled himacross the Golden Horn. Suddenly the caique fouled with another, andthere came a volley of Turkish oaths and objurgations. The Greek lookedup, and saw Miss Leland in the other boat. Her eyes were fixed upon himand the pipe. He passed his hand lazily over the bowl and took the pipeindolently from his lips, and addressed himself to the caiquejee. Theboats got clear of each other. Lilian, coming aboard the boat, could notget speech with Barndale until the steamer was well under way. By then, she had time to think the matter over, and had come to the conclusionthat she would say nothing about it. For, womanlike, she was halfjealous of the pipe, and she was altogether afraid of two things--first, that Barndale would leave her to go back to Constantinople; and next, that the Greek and he would enter on a deadly quarrel. For she had ageneral belief that all Orientals were bloodthirsty. But the meerschaumpipe was not yet done with, and it played its part in a tragedy beforeits tale was fully told. 

CHAPTER III. 

The English party reached London in the middle of July, and made hasteout of it--Lilian and her elders to peaceful Suffolk, where they hada house they visited rarely; and her lover and her brother to ThamesDitton, where these two inseparables took a house-boat, aboard whichthey lived in Bohemian and barbaric ease, like rovers of the deep. Herethey fished, and swam, and boated, and grew daily more and more mahoganycoloured beneath the glorious summer sun. They cooked their own steaks, and ate with ravenous appetites, and enjoyed themselves like the twowholesome young giants they were, and grew and waxed in muscle, andappetite, and ruddiness until a city clerk had gone wild with envy, beholding them. Their demands for beer amazed the landlord of thehistoric 'Swan, ' and their absorption of steaks left the village butcherin astonishment. 

But in the midst of all this a purpose came upon Barndale quite suddenlyone day as he lay beneath the awning, intent on doing nothing. He hadnot always been a wealthy man. There had been a time when he had hadto write for a living, or, at least, to eke a not over-plentiful livingout. At this time his name was known to the editors of most magazines. He had written a good deal of graceful verse, and one or two prettyidyllic stories, and there were people who looked very hopefully onhim as a rising light of literature. His sudden accession to wealthhad almost buried the poor taper of his genius when the hands of Lovetriumphant took it suddenly at the time of that lazy lounge beneath theawning, and gave it a chance once more. He was meditating, as loverswill, upon his own unworthiness and the all-worthy attributes of thedivine Lilian. And it came to him to do something--such as in himlay--to be more worthy of her. 'I often used to say, ' he said now withinhimself, 'that if I had time and money I would try to write acomedy. Well then, here goes. Not one of the flimsy Byron or Burnandfrivolities, but a comedy with heart in it, and motive in it, andhonest, patient labour. '

So, all on fire with this laudable ambition, he set to work at once. Theplot had been laid long since, in the old impecunious hardworking days. He revised it now and strengthened it. Day after day the passers by uponthe silent highway came in sight of this bronzed young giant under hisawning, with a pipe in his mouth and a vast bottle by his side, andbeheld him enthusiastically scrawling, or gazing with fixed eye atnothing in particular on the other side of the river. Once or twicebeing caught in the act of declaiming fragments of his dialogue, byeasy-going scullers who pulled silently round the side of the houseboat, he dashed into the interior of that aquatic residence with muchprecipitation. At other times his meditations were broken in upon by thecheery invitations and restless invasions of a wild tribe of the youthof Twickenham and its neighbourhood who had a tent in a field hard by, and whose joy at morning, noon, and night, was beer. These savageshad an accordion and a penny whistle and other instruments of musicwherewith to make the night unbearable and the day a heavy burden. They were known as 'The Tribe of the Scorchers, ' and were a happy anda genial people, but their presence was inimical to the rising hopes ofthe drama. Nevertheless, Barndale worked, and the comedy grew little bylittle towards completion. James, outwardly cynical regarding it, was inwardly delighted. He believed in Barndale with a full and firmconviction; and he used to read his friend's work at night, or listento it when Barndale read, with internal enthusiasm and an exterior ofcoolness. Barndale knew him through and through, and in one scene in thecomedy had drawn the better part of him to the life. Hearing this sceneread over, it occurred to the genial youth himself that he would like toplay the part. 

'Billy, old man, ' said he, 'I think Sir What's-his-name there's aboutmy style of man. Before you put that immortal work upon the public stageyou'd better try an amateur performance carefully rehearsed. You playGeorge Rondel. I'll play Sir What's-his-name. Easily fill up the othercharacters. Ladies from London. Week's rehearsals. Bring it out at yourown place at Christmas. '

Barndale caught at this idea so eagerly that he sat down that eveningand wrote to a London manager requesting him to secure the services ofthree famous actresses, whom he named, for the first week of the nextyear. He stipulated also for the presence of a competent stage managerthrough the whole week, and promised instructions with respect toscenery, and so forth, later on. In his enthusiasm he drew up a list ofcritics and authors to invite, and he and Leland straightway began tostudy their respective parts. It was getting near the end of August now, and the evenings began to close in rapidly. The river was quite desertedas a rule by eight o'clock, and then the two friends used to rehearseone especial scene. There was a quarrel in this scene which, but for theintervening hand of the deux ex machinâ, bade fair to be deadly. When, after repeated trials, they warmed to their work, and got hold ofsomething like the passion of their part, a listener might haveacquitted them of all play-acting, and broken in himself to preventbloodshed. For they both started from the assumption that the tonesof the stage must be gradually built up into power from those used inordinary speech, and so they avoided the least taint of staginess, andwere on their way to become rather better actors than the best we havejust now. 

Leland's temperament was not of a nature to persuade him to perpetualeffort in any direction; and so, whilst Barndale worked, the otheramateur relieved vacuity with billiards. It got into a settled habitwith him at last to leave Barndale nightly at his comedy, and to returnto the house-boat at an hour little short of midnight. He would findBarndale still at work writing by the light of a lamp grown dim withincrustations of self-immolated insects. Moths fluttered to thislight in incredible numbers, and literal thousands of lives were thussacrificed nightly at the drama's shrine. It was nearly midnight, and asblack as a wolfs mouth, when Leland sculled up from the 'Swan' to spendhis last night but one aboard the house-boat. 

'Billy, old man, ' he cried, bursting in suddenly; 'look here! Ain't I infor it now? Read this!'

He handed to his friend a letter which Barndale read in silence. 

'This is awkward, ' the latter said after a long, grave pause. 

Leland sat in constrained solemnity for awhile, but by-and-by a genialgrin spread over his features, and he chuckled in deep enjoyment. 

'It's a lark for all that, Billy. We shall have the noble Demetri herenext, I suppose. Let's hire him for the great Christmas show. "SignorDemetri Agryopoulo will appear in his great stiletto trick, frustratedby Billy Barndale, the Bounding Brother of the Bosphorus. "'

'What is to be done?' said Barndale, ignoring his companion'sflippancies. 

'Yes, ' said Leland, sitting down and growing suddenly grave. 'What'sto be done? Read the letter out, Billy, and let's consider the thingseriously. '

Barndale read aloud. 

 'My very dear Friend, --At what time you was at Constantinople, when trouble came, you made promise that you would not forget me if my poor Demetri should trouble about you. When you last wrote to me this was made again--the promise. My life for not one moment is safe. My aunt is dead and my possessions are now mine, but there is no friend in all the world. Demetri is mad. Of him I know not when I am safe. I fly then to London, where all is safe. But there it is not possible that I should be alone. If there is any lady in the circle of your knowledge who would be kind with me, and permit that I should live with her, it will have for ever my gratitude. I shall go as of old to the Palace Hotel at Westminster. Two days beyond this letter I shall be there. 

 'Always your friend, 'Thecla Perzio. '

After the reading of this epistle, the friends sat in silence, regardingeach other with grave looks. In the silence they could hear the riverlapping against the bank, and the rustling of the boughs on the roof, and the moaning and sighing of the wind. But they could not hear thesuppressed breathing of Demetri Agryopoulo where he stood knee-deep inwater below the house-boat window, listening to their talk. Yet therehe stood, not knowing that he was not on dry land; drunk with rage andjealousy; with murder plainly written in his heart and eyes, and all hisblood on fire. He threw his soul into his ears, and listened. 

'This letter has been a long time on its way, surely, ' said Barndale, referring to the date. 'It can't take three weeks to bring a letter fromConstantinople. '

'Where's the envelope?' asked. Leland. 'Look at that, and see what theLondon date is. '

The home stamp made it clear that the letter had reached England tendays back. 

'My man brought it down this afternoon, the lazy scamp!' said Leland. 'He has never been near those blessed chambers since I left till now. Apile of letters came together, but I took no notice. '

'Listen to me, ' said Barndale. 'You have done harm enough in this matteralready, Jimmy, and you must do no more. You must keep clear of her. Iwill send her down to my sister for a time. Sophy is a good girl, andwill be glad to have a companion whilst I am away. I will go up to townto-morrow and see Miss Perzio. You stay here. I shall either wire to youor come back in the evening. '

The weather had been hot and clear for weeks together, and thetraditions of English summer were preparing to enforce themselves by thecommon thunderstorm. The wind moaned in swift and sudden gusts, and thedistant thunder rumbled threateningly. The listener outside misheardthis speech thus:

'You will be glad of a companion whilst I am away. I will go up to townto-morrow and see Miss Perzio. '

He ground his teeth, and clenched his hands, and held himself inresolute silence, fighting against the instinct which prompted him tocry aloud and dash in upon the two, and either slay them both, or sellhis own life, then and there. But reflecting on the certainty of defeat, unarmed as he was, and dreading to declare himself too soon, and so puthis enemy upon his guard, he fought the instinct down. Yet so strong wasit upon him that he knew that sooner or later it would master him. Hewaded to the shore and crept along the field in the thick darkness, groping his way with both hands. Turning, he could see the dull gleamof the river, and the house-boat bulking black against it. He stoodwatching, whilst within and without the storm swept swiftly up. Deadsilence. Then a creeping whisper in the grass at his feet and inthe trees about him, but no wind. Then the slow dropping of heavyrain--drop, drop, drop--like blood. Then a fierce and sudden howl fromthe wind, like some hoarse demon's signal, and the storm began. Butwhat a puny storm was that which raged outside could one have seen thetempest in this murderous soul! Not all the tones of great materialnature's diapason could find this tortured spirit voice enough. Yet tofind the very heavens in tune with his mood brought the Greek to a stillmadder ecstasy of passion. 

At such times the mind, fearful for herself, catches at phrasesand fancies, as drowning men catch at straws. So now, with terribleirrelevance, his mind caught at the simple couplet:--

 Nenni, nenni, vattienne, non me stà chiù' à seccar Sta rosa che pretienne non la sto manco à gardar!

There was nothing for the mind to hold to except that it was the lastsong the runaway Thecla had sung to him. He did not remember this, andhad only a half consciousness of the words themselves. But in this madwhirl of the spiritual elements the mind was glad to cling to anything, and turned the refrain over, and over, and over, Nenni, nenni, vattienne, non me stà chiù' à seccar Sta rosa che pretienne non la sto manco à gardar!

Rain, and wind, and thunder, and Lightning, had their time without andwithin. Peace came to the summer heavens, and the pale stars took thebrief night with beauty. But to the firmament of his soul no star ofpeace returned. There dwelt night and chaos. If his passion were blind, the blindness was wilful. For he saw clearly the end of what he meant todo, and chose it. Whatever his love might have been worth, he had beenrobbed of it, and for him life ended there. He was but an automaton ofvengeance now. 

So having set resolve before him, and having done with it, he wenthis way. His plan was long since laid, and was simple enough. DemetriAgryopoulo was not the man to perplex himself with details until thetime came for them to be useful. When that time came he could rely uponhimself for invention. And so his plan was simply to take James Lelandalone, and then and there to put an end to him. He had taken a room ina river-side public-house near Kingston, and thither he walked. Hemade some grim excuse for the lateness of the hour and his bedraggledgarments to the drowsy ostler who had sat up for him, and calmed thedrowsy ostler's grumbles by a gift of half-a-crown. Then he drank aglass of neat brandy, and went to bed and slept like an innocent child. 

Next morning he was up early, ate a cheerful breakfast, delighted hishost with foreign affabilities, paid his bill, and went away by trainto London. Leaving his luggage in a cloak-room at the station, he tooka stroll about town, dropping into public-houses here and there, anddrinking terrible brandy. At home he drank _mastica_ as Englishmen drinkbeer, and brandy was insipid as water to his palate, and had just nowalmost as little effect upon his head. Demetri Agryopoulo had discoveredthe one secret of the true dissembler, that he who controls his featurescontrols his mind. A man who can put a smile on his face while tormentsrack him, can thereby calm the torments. The resolute will which arreststhe facial expression of grief or rage, allays the grief or rage. Hewent about with an aspect of calm insouciance, and therefore with afeeling of calm and ease within. Yet he was like one who walks with amadman, knowing that if his own courage should for one instant seem towaver, the maniac will be upon him. In his journey to town he had beenalone, and between one station and another he had opened his portmanteauand taken therefrom a small breech-loading revolver and a stiletto. Helaid his hand upon these now and again, and smiled to himself. 

The afternoon grew into evening. He took train to Wimbledon, and thencestruck across country in the direction of the houseboat. He skirted thevillage with its straggling lights, and made his way across the fieldsto the river side. Nearing the boat cautiously, he ensconced himself inthe bushes on the bank, and watched and listened. There were two voicesaudible. Barndale and Leland were engaged in serious and indeed in angrytalk. There was a woman in the question apparently, and it would seemthat the friends were quarrelling concerning her. But the Greek soonheard enough to convince him that this woman was not Thecla Perzio. Thevoices grew louder, and some open breach of the peace seemed imminent. The friends were rehearsing their own especial scene in Barndale'scomedy. 

It becomes necessary to this history at this point to set forth the factthat one Hodges, resident in the village, had within an hour of thistime received intelligence of the straying of a cow. This man was ayokel of no interest to us, apart from this one episode in his career. He had supplied the inmates of the house-boat with new milk and freshbutter from the time of their first coming. And it was he who had setafloat a report, not unknown at the historic 'Swan, ' to the effect thatfor all so sweet as them two young gents did go about wi' one another, they was a naggin' like blazes every night, ' He came by now, driving hisrecovered cow before him, and passed within a foot of the Greek, wholay as still as death in the brushwood. The quarrel, when at its height, ceased suddenly, and the voices fell so low that neither Hodges northe Greek could hear anything more than a murmur. The amateurs werecriticising the dialogue and its rendering over pipes and beer. 

'Well, ' said Hodges, addressing vacancy, 'if theer ain't murder aforelong, it _is_ a pity. '

Then the bovine Hodges went his way. Events supplied him with anexcitement which lasted him for life; and the younger Hodges who hassucceeded to his father's cows and remembrances, will not willingly letdie the story of his progenitor's association with this tragic tale. 

The Greek lay hidden in the bushes, and listened to the soft retreatingsteps in the field and the murmur of voices in the boat. By-and-by thedoor opened, and the friends appeared. 

'I shall not come back by the late train now, Jimmy, ' Barndale said, ashe placed a small portmanteau in the dingy. 'You had better come downwith me to the "Swan" and scull up again. '

'No, ' said Leland, unconscious of the impending fate, 'I'll walk downfor the boat tomorrow. If I get down there to-night I shall stay, and Iwant to write some letters. Goodbye, old fellow. Send us a line in themorning. '

'All right, ' said Barndale. 'Good-bye. '

The sculls dipped, and he shot into the darkness. For a few minutes wefollow Barndale. He pulled down stream rapidly, for the train by whichhe intended to reach town was already nearly due. There was nobodyat the landing place. He fastened the boat, and seizing his smallportmanteau, dashed at full speed into the road, ran all the way to thestation, and threw himself into the train panting, and just in time. Atthe bottom of the station steps he had spilt a countryman, to whom hethrew out a hurried apology. The countryman was Mr. Hodges. 

The Greek listened until the measured beat of Barndale's sculls hadlost itself in silence. Then he crept forward from the bushes, steppedlightly to the margin of the stream, laid both hands on a sturdy branchwhich drooped above the house-boat, and swung himself light as a featherto the after deck The door of the rear room, which served the inmatesas a kitchen, was unsecured and open. He passed through, pistol in hand, and trod the matted floor stealthily, drawn and guided by the tiny beamof light which issued from the interstice between it and the doorway. With the motion of the boat the door beat idly and noiselessly to andfro, so that the beam was cut off at regular intervals, and at regularintervals again shone forth, keeping time with the Greek's noiselessfootsteps, and his beating heart and his bated breath, and altogethertaking to itself that importance and force which trifles always have inmoments of intense passion or suffering. Even yet he would not let themadman within him loose. Even yet he would hold him back until he sawthe object of his hate and rage, and then----

The door swung to and fro gently, and the Greek approached it withhis hand, when suddenly the unconscious Leland from within banged it tonoisily and fixed the hasp. Then with one resolute action Demetri threwit back and stepped into the doorway, pistol in hand. Leland roseand turned. He saw the Greek, and read murder in his face, and dashedhimself upon him. But the murderous hand was quick and true. One shotrang out, and Leland, with outcast arms, fell backwards. The Greek, witha hand on the table, looked down upon him. Not a struggle or a groanstirred the prone figure. Demetri threw the revolver through the openwindow, and heard the splash with which it fell into the water. He drewthe stiletto from his bosom, and threw that after it. Then closing thedoor lightly, and stepping still on tiptoe as though he feared to wakethat prone figure from its awful sleep, he swung himself on shore again. 

'Our rustic friend, ' he said to himself as he stood and looked uponthe boat, bulking black against the dull gleam of the river, like someuncouth animal standing at the bank and peering landward with fieryeyes, our rustic friend may not forget his prophecy. '

Therewith he went his way again, and the darkness shrouded him. 

CHAPTER IV. 

What should bring fashion, and wealth, and beauty in one charming personup to London from the country at the latter end of August? The townhouse long since dismantled for the grand tour now finished--the charmsof the season abandoned for peaceful Suffolk--why should Lilian care toreturn thus at the fag end of London's feast of folly? Has the bronzedand bearded Barndale anything to do with it? Lady Dives Luxor gives aball; and Lady Dives, being Lilian's especial patroness and guardianangel and divinity, insists on Lilian being present thereat. Thisball is designed as the crowning festivity of a brilliant year; andto Lilian, blest with youth and beauty and high spirits, and such asplendid lover, shall it not be a night to remember until the greycurtain fall on the close of the last season, and nothing is any moreremembered? But a cloud of sadness settles on Lilian's charming facewhen she misses the bronzed and bearded. Lady Dives knows all about theengagement, and is enthusiastic over it; and, when Lilian has a second'stime to snatch an enquiry concerning the absent one, she answers, 'Hehas never been near me once. I wrote him a special note, and told himyou were coming. He will be here. ' So Lady Dives strives to chase thecloud. Barndale does not come, having never, in point of fact, receivedthat special note which Lady Dives had despatched to him. So the ballis a weariness, and Lilian goes back with mamma to the hotel withquite drooping spirits. She makes excuses for the absent Barndale, butfancies all manner of things in her feminine fashion, preferring tobelieve in fevers and boat accidents and other horrors rather than thinkthat a valet has been lazy or a postman inaccurate. 

Papa Leland, who is here to take care of his womankind, has ideas of hisown on some matters. 

'Hang your swell hotels, ' says Papa Leland; 'I always stop at theWestminster, It's near the House, and quite convenient enough foranywhere. '

It was thus that Lilian found herself under the same roof with TheclaPerzio, who lived there with a sore and frightened heart, waiting forthat shallow lover who had caught her in love's toils, and broken up herlife for her, and who now left her poor appeal unanswered. 

Poor indiscreet little Thecla had a suite of rooms on the first floor, and lived alone within them with her Greek maid, and agonised. She wasfor ever peering furtively through the door when any manly step soundedin the corridor, but she never saw the form she waited for. But itchanced, the morning after the ball, that she opened her door and lookedout upon the corridor at the sound of Papa Leland's footstep. PapaLeland went by briskly; but Lilian caught sight of her and knew her in amoment, and stayed to speak. The two girls had been too closely engagedwith their respective love-makings to form any very close acquaintancewith each other; but during a week's imprisonment on board ship thefriendships of women, and especially of young and gentle-hearted women, advance very rapidly. They had parted with a great deal of mutualliking, and met again now with mutual pleasure. In a minute Lilian wasseated in the poor little Greek's big and dreary parlour. She was aproud creature was little Thecla, and would not chatter with her maid. She had given nobody her confidence; and now, having once confessed thatshe was unhappy, she broke out, with her pretty head on Lilian's lap, and had a grand, refreshing, honest cry. That over, she set forth herstory. She told how Demetri was madly, foolishly jealous; how he hadtried to murder the gentleman of whom he was jealous; and how at last, finding herself alone in the world, and being afraid of Demetri, shehad sought an asylum in England. She did not say of whom Demetri wasjealous, and Lilian had not the remotest notion of the truth. It verysoon came out, however; and then Lihan was sore afraid for TheclaPerzio's happiness. She had no great belief in her brother. She lovedhim very much; but she was dimly afraid that James was an impracticableand unmarriable man, a person who could set all the wiles and all thetenderness of the sex at calm defiance--a born bachelor. And, besidesthat, being, in spite of her many charms and virtues, an Englishwoman, she had a natural and ridiculous objection to the marriage of any personwhom she valued to any other person of foreign blood, excepting in thecase of British royalty, in whose foreign matches she felt unfeigneddelight--wherefore, Heaven, perchance, knoweth. But then Lilian was nota woman of a logical turn of mind; she was inconsistent and amiable, asgood girls always are; and being strongly opposed to marriages of thiskind in general, determined to lay herself out, heart and soul, forthe prosperity of this particular arrangement. So she kissed Theclavivaciously, and went to mamma, and persuaded that estimable lady to avisit to Thames Ditton in search of James. Mamma, having regard to themissing Barndale, and being in some matronly alarm for him, consented, and the two set out together. 

Barndale in the meantime had gone to his own chambers, and had theresmoked many deliberative and lonely pipes. When he came near to theenterprise he had so readily undertaken in his friend's behalf, he beganto feel signally nervous and uncomfortable about it. Of course he didnot for one moment think of resigning it; but he was puzzled, and in hisbe-puzzlement retired within himself to concoct a plan of action. Havingdefinitely failed in this attempt, he resolved to go off at once withoutpreparation, and ask at the hotel for Miss Perzio, and then a round, unvarnished tale deliver. This resolution formed, he started at onceand hurried, lest it should break by the way. Lilian and he were withintwenty yards of each other, neither of them knowing it, when his cabrushed up to the door of the hotel. 

Lilian knew the house-boat and its ways. One of the Amphibia of Dittonconveyed the two ladies in a capacious boat to the aquatic residence ofthe two friends. Lilian stepped lightly to the fore deck, and assistedmamma from the boat. 

'They are both away, ' said Lilian, smiling and blushing. 'And thecareless creatures have left the doors open. We will wait for them andgive them a surprise. '

The two women, full of fluttering complacency, entered the livingroom. Lilian went first, and fell upon her knees with a sudden shriek, beholding the prone figure on the floor; the mother darted to her side, saw and partly understood, whipped out a vinaigrette, seized a caraffeof water, and applied those innocent restoratives at once. Neithermother nor daughter had time to think of anything worse than a faintingfit, until Lilian, who had taken her brother's head upon her lap, foundblood upon her hands. Then she turned white to the very lips, and toreopen the blue serge coat and waistcoat. The white flannel shirt beneathwas caked with blood. The two women moaned, but not a finger faltered. They opened the shirt tenderly, and there, on the right breast, saw adull blue stain with a crimson thread in the middle of it. A gunshotwound looks to unaccustomed eyes altogether too innocent a thing toaccount for death or even for serious danger. But the cold pallor of theface and body, the limp and helpless limbs betokened something terrible. 

'Take his poor head, mamma, ' cried Lilian; and she darted from the cabinto the deck, The boatman was lounging quietly in the boat some thirtyyards down stream. She called to him aloud--

'Go for a doctor. My brother is dying here. Be quick, be quick, bequick!' she almost screamed as the man stared at her. Understanding atlast, the fellow snatched up his sculls and dashed through the water. Lilian flew back to her brother; and while the two women, not knowingwhat to do further, sat supporting the helpless head together; a manleapt aboard. 

'You called for a doctor, madam, ' he said quietly, 'I am a surgeon. Permit me to assist you. '

The women made way for him. He was a youngish man, with a sunburntcomplexion and grey hair, a gentleman beyond denial, and beyond doubtself-possessed and accustomed to obedience. They trusted him at once. Heraised the recumbent figure to a couch, and then looked at the wound. Heturned over the lappel of the coat and glanced at it. He had a habit ofspeaking to himself. 

'Pistol shot, ' he muttered. 'Close quarters. Coat quite burned. Decimalthree-fifty or thereabouts I fancy from the look of it. Ah, here it is!Have you a penknife or a pair of scissors, madam? That small knife willdo. Thank you. '

A dexterous touch, and from the little gaping lips carved by thepenknife's point in the muscle of the back rolled out a flattenedpiece of lead with jagged edges like a battered shilling, but a triflethicker. 

'Yes, ' said the surgeon, laying it on the table; 'decimal three-fifty. What's this? Wound on the head. Your handkerchief, please. Cold water. Thank you. '

His busy and practised hands were at work all the while. 

'Now, ladies, wait here for a few moments. I must bring help. '

'Stop one minute!' cried the mother. 'Is he in danger?'

'Grave danger. '

'Will he die?'

'Not if I can help it, ' And with that the stranger leaped on shore, andran like a racehorse across the fields and into the nearest house, where he turned out the residents in a body, and made them unship afive-barred gate. There were plenty of cushions in the boat, and hewasted no time in getting others. The helpers beaten up by the doctorworked with a will; and one ran off in advance and seized upon a puntbelonging to the Campers Out, and set it at the end of the house-boat, towards the shore. Over this they bore Leland, and laid him on thecushions which the doctor had arranged upon the gate. Then they carriedhim into the 'Swan' and got him to bed there. 

Lilian and her mother, trembling and struggling with their tears, followed the bearers. The crowd which always accompanies disaster, evenin a village, made its comments as the melancholy little cortege wentalong, and Lilian could not fail to overhear. Hodges was there. 

'I know'd what it ud come to, ' proclaimed Hodges loudly. 'They was anaggin' every night, like mad, they was. I told you all what it ud cometo. '

'So a did, ' said others in the crowd. Then some one asked 'Where'st'other chap?' and in the murmur Lilian heard her lover's name again andagain repeated. 

She knew well enough--she could not fail to know--the meaning of themurmurs; but she started as though she had been struck when Hodges saidaloud, so that all might hear--

'They was a naggin' again last night, an' then theer was a shot; andthen ten minutes arterwards that Barndale bolts and knocks me over atthe bottom o' the station steps. What's all that pint to?'

'Oh, ' said another, 'there can't be no mortal shadder of a doubt whodone it. '

For a moment these cruel words turned her faint; but the swift reactionof certainty and resolve which followed them nerved her and braced herfor all the troublous times to come. She waited calmly until all hadbeen done that could be done. Then when the doctor had left his patient, she took him apart. 

'My brother has been wounded by a pistol shot?' she asked him verybravely and steadily. The doctor nodded. 'I must find out who did it, 'she went on, looking him full in the face with her hazel eyes. 

'The people here seem to suspect a Mr. ------'

She snatched the word out of the doctor's mouth. 

'My brother's dearest friend, sir. Why, sir, they would have died foreach other. '

'As you would for one of them?' said the doctor to himself. 

'You have experience in these matters, sir. Will you help me to examinethe boat? There may perhaps be something there to help us to track thecriminal. '

The doctor had but the poorest opinion of this scheme. 'But, yes, 'he said, he would go, and then fell to thinking aloud. 'Poor thing. Wonderfully plucky. Bears it well. Brother half killed. Lover suspected. Go! Of course I'll go. Why the devil shouldn't I?' And he marched alongunconscious of his utterances or of the heightened colour and the lookof momentary surprise in Lilian's face. 'Pretty girl, too, ' said thedoctor, in audible thought. 'Devilish pretty! Good girl, I should fancy. Like the looks of her. Hard lines, poor thing--hard lines!'

They reached the bank and walked across the punt into the house-boat. As she entered the door Lilian gave a cry, and dashed at the table;then turned and held up before the doctor's eyes a meerschaum pipe--theidentical Antoletti meerschaum stolen in the Stamboul Bazaar by DemetriAgryopoulo. 

'This is it!' she gasped. 'The clue! Oh, it is certain! It is true! Whoelse could have wished him ill?'

Then she told the doctor the story of the pipe. She told her tale inverbal lightning. Every sentence flashed forth a fact; and in sixtyseconds or thereabouts the doctor was a man convinced. 

But meantime where was Barndale? Poor Leland could tell them nothing. For many a day he would bear no questioning. Could her lover, Lilianasked herself, have started for the ball last night, and come to anydamage by the way?

'Here is a letter, ' said the doctor, quietly taking up something fromthe table. 'A lady's handwriting. Postmark, Constantinople. '

He drew the letter from its envelope and read it as coolly as if he hada right to read it. 

'The story is clear enough, ' he said. 'The lady is in London. Yourbrother knew of her presence there. The Greek you speak of has followedher. The pipe proves his presence here. But how did he find out withwhom the lady was in correspondence?'

'That I cannot guess, ' said Lilian. 

It had been late in the afternoon when Lilian and her mother reachedthe house-boat first. Twilight had fallen when the doctor and the girlstarted to walk back together. Lilian, turning to look at the house-boatas they went, seized the doctor by the shoulder. He turned and looked ather. She pointed to a figure in the fields. 

'The Greek!' she whispered. 

She was right. Demetri Àgryopoulo had come back again with twilight tothe scene of his crime, drawn by an impulse, passionate, irresistible, supreme. 

The doctor ran straight for him, leaping the hedge like a deer. Lilian, mad with the excitement of the moment, followed she knew not how. Demetri Agryopoulo turned and awaited the arrival of these twoonward-rushing figures calmly. The doctor laid a hand upon him. 

'I arrest you on a charge of murder, ' he said, gasping for breath. 

'Bah!' said Demetri Agryopoulo quietly, and threw the doctor's handaside. 

The doctor seized him again, but he was spent and breathless. The Greekthrew him off as if he had been a child. 

'Are you mad?' he asked. 'What murder? Where? When?'

'My brother's murder, here, last night, ' panted Lilian, and flungherself, a mouse against a mountain, on the Greek, and grappled withhim, and actually bore him to the ground. But before the doctor couldlend a hand to aid her, Demetri was on his feet again, and with onebound sprang into a little skiff which lay with its nose upon the bank. He swung one of the sculls about his head, and shouted, 'Stand back!'But the doctor watched his time, and dashed in upon him, and before heknew it was struggling in the water, whilst Demetri in the skiff wasa score of yards away tugging madly for the farther shore. The doctorscrambled to the bank and ran up and down the riverside looking foranother boat. But he found none, and the Greek was already growing dimin the twilight mist. And again Demetri Agryopoulo went his own way, andthe darkness shrouded him. 

CHAPTER V. 

Thecla Perzio received Barndale with much shyness and embarrassment; andhe, seeing that she was a good deal afraid of him, plucked up courageand treated her rather wilfully. He insisted on her going down to hissister at his own house in Surrey and staying there under the old maid'schaperonage, at least until such time as she should be able to findanother suitable companion. The more Thecla found herself overpowered bythis masterful son of Anak, the more she felt resigned, and comfortable, and peaceful, and safe. Barndale, like the coward he was, felt his powerand took advantage of it. He would have no 'nay' on any grounds, butexacted immediate obedience. 

To make things smoother he set out that afternoon for Surrey, saw hissister, talked her into a great state of sympathy for little Thecla, and brought her back to town by the next morning's train. Then, havingintroduced the ladies to each other, he left them and went to his ownchambers in King's Bench Walk. Arrived there he stooped at the keyhole, finding some trifle or other there opposing his latch-key. The key-holewas half-filled with putty. Barndale never lost his temper. 'Some geniustakes this for a joke, I suppose, ' he murmured philosophically, andproceeded by the aid of a pocket corkscrew to clear the keyhole. He hadjust succeeded when a hand was laid familiarly upon his shoulder. He turned and saw a stranger clean-shaven, calm, and in aspectbusiness-like. 

'Mr. Barndale, I think?' said the familiar stranger. 

'Yes, ' said Barndale, looking down at him in a somewhat stately way, inresentment of the familiar hand upon his shoulder. 

'We'll do our little bit of business inside, sir, if _you_ please. '

Barndale looked at him again inquiringly, opened the door, walked in, and allowed the stranger to follow. The man entered the room and stoodbefore Barndale on the hearthrug. He had one hand in the breast of hiscoat; and somehow, as Barndale looked at him, he bethought him of theGreek who had stood with his hand at his breast in the Concordia Gardenglaring at Leland. 

'I hope you'll take it quietly, ' said the clean-shaven man, 'but it'sgot to be done, and will be done whether you take it quietly or not. I'man officer, and it's my duty to arrest you. '

There passed rapidly through Barndale's mind the remembrance of adisputed wine-bill, and the service of some legal document which he hadthrown into the fire without reading. 

He connected the clean-shaven stranger with these things, and wastickled at the idea of being arrested for some such trifle as a hundredpounds. He was so far tickled that he laughed outright. 

'Come, ' said Barndale, still smiling, 'this is absurd. I'll give you acheque at once. Are you empowered to give a receipt?'

The clean-shaven stranger regarded him with a cool, observant, wary eye. 

'It's my duty to arrest you, ' he said again quietly, 'and I hope you'llcome quietly and make no fuss about it. '

'My good man, ' said Barndale, 'you can't arrest me if I pay the money. '

'Come, come, come, sir, ' said the official, with calm superiority inhis tone; 'that's all very well and very pretty, but it's Mr. Leland'saffair that I want you for, sir. '

'Mr. Leland's affair?' said Barndale. 

'That little attempted murder the night before last, that's all. Now, take it quiet; don't let's have any nonsense, you know. '

The clean-shaven stranger's lips pressed close together with a resolutelook, and his hand came a little way out of the breast of his coat. 

'Will you have the goodness to tell me what you mean?' asked Barndale, bewildered, and a little angry to find himself so. 

'Well, if you _won't_ know anything about it, Mr. James Leland was foundyesterday in a house-boat at Thames Ditton, with a pistol bullet intohim, and he ain't expected to recover, and that's my business along withyou, and I'll trouble you to come quiet. '

The tension on the official nerves made hash of the official's English. Barndale smote the mantel-piece with his clenched hand. 

'Great God!' he cried. 'The Greek! Where is Mr. Leland?' he asked theofficial eagerly. 

'In bed at the "Swan, " abeing doctored. That's where _he_ is, ' repliedthe official curtly. 'Now, come along, and don't let's have no morepalaver. '

Barndale discerned the nature of the situation, and remained master ofhimself. 

'I will come with you, ' he said with grave self-possession. 'I amsomehow suspected of having a hand in the attempted murder of my friend. Now, you shall arrest me since you must, but you shall not tie the handsof justice by preventing me from tracing the criminal. The man who hascommitted this crime is Demetri Agryopoulo, a Greek, attached to thePersian Embassy at Constantinople. You look like a shrewd and wary man, 'Barndale took out his cheque-book and wrote a cheque for one hundredpounds. 'When you have done with me, cash that cheque and spend everypenny of it, if need be, in pursuit of that man. When it is gone cometo me for more. When you have caught him, come to me for five hundredpounds. Wait a moment. '

He sat down and wrote in a great, broad hand: 'I promise to pay toBearer the sum of Five Hundred Pounds (500L. ) on the arrest of DemetriAgryopoulo, attaché to the Persian Embassy at Constantinople__W. HolmesBarn-dale. ' He appended date and place, and handed it to the officer. 

'Very good, sir, ' said he, waving the papers to and fro in the air todry the ink, and keeping all the while a wary eye on Barndale. 'I knowthat my opinion goes for nothing, but if I was a grand jury I shouldthrow out the bill, most likely. We'll make it as quiet as we _can_, sir; but there's two of my men outside, and if there should be any needfor force it'll have to be used, that's all. '

'I shall go with you quietly, ' said Barndale. 'I have two things toimpress upon you. Let no apparent evidence in any other direction throwyou off the scent on which I have set you. Next: send a smart man toThames Ditton and let him collect evidence of all the grounds on which Iam suspected. Now I am ready. '

Thus torn with grief for his friend, and sorrow for his lover, but movedto no upbraiding of Fate for the cruel trick she had played him, thisBritish gentleman surrendered himself to the emissary of Public Gossipand went away with him. 

The officer, having ideas of his own, got into a cab with Barndaleand drove straight to Scotland Yard. On the way Barndale set out theevidence in favour of his own theory of the crime and its motive. Inspector Webb's experience of criminals was large; but he had neverknown a criminal conduct himself after Barn-dale's fashion, and wasconvinced of his innocence, and hotly eager to be in pursuit of theGreek. When the cab drew up in the Yard a second cab drew up behind it, and from it emerged two clean-shaven, quiet-looking men in inconspicuousdresses, whom Barndale had seen in King's Bench Walk as he had gone thatafternoon to his chambers. Scarcely had they alighted when a third cabcame up, and from it dashed a mahogany-coloured young man with greyhair, and assisted a lady to alight. Catching sight of Barndale, thelady ran forward and took him by the arm. 

'Oh, Will, ' she said, 'you have heard this dreadful news?'

'My poor child!' he answered. 

'This, ' said Lilian, pointing out her companion, 'is Dr. Wattiss, whosaved James's life. '

'Hundred and Ninety-first Foot, ' said the medical man. 'I've hadconsiderable experience in gunshot wounds, and I don't think Mr. Leland's case at all desperate, if that's any comfort to anybody, ' Therethe doctor smiled. 'You are Mr. Barndale, I presume. Miss Leland hasevidence of the name and even the whereabouts of the scoundrel whoinflicted the wound, and we are here to hunt him up. '

'May I ask who's the suspected party?' asked Inspector Webb with his eyeon the doctor. 

'Demetri Agryopoulo, ' said Lilian, 'a Greek----'

'Attached to the Persian Embassy at Constantinople. ' said InspectorWebb. 'All right. Come with me, ma'am. This way, gentlemen. ' And theinspector marshalled them all upstairs. There he gave a whispered orderto an officer who lounged to the door, and placed his back against it, and there picked his teeth, insouciant. The inspector disappeared. Intwo minutes he was back again. 

'This way, ma'am. This way, gentlemen, ' And he ushered all three beforehim up a set of stone stairs, down a set of stone stairs, and into acarpeted apartment, where sat a gentleman of military aspect, behind abusiness-looking table overspread with papers. 

'You have a statement to make to me, I believe, ' he said to Lilian withgrave politeness. 

Lilian told her story without faltering and without superfluous words. When she mentioned the pipe Dr. Wattiss drew a packet from his pocketand unwound it carefully, and laid the precious meerschaum on the table. 

'What is this statement of a nightly quarrel between the two residentsin the house-boat, Webb?' Thus spoke the superior officer behind thebusiness table. 

'Man named Hodges, sir, ' responded the inspector, 'states that heoverheard violent rows after dusk. '

In spite of all his grief and anxiety Barn-dale laughed, and was aboutto speak in explanation when Lilian rose and laid a letter on the table. 

'Will you kindly read that, sir, and then ask Mr. Barndale to explain?'she said simply. 

The military-looking official took the letter and read it through. Itran thus:--

 'On the Roaring Deep, 'Thames Ditton. 

 'Dear Lil, --

 'Billy has struck ile. He's at work on an amazing comedy with which he intends to fire the Thames next first of April. He and I are both going to appear in it at Barndale in the Christmas week. Meantime we rehearse a terrific combat nightly. 

 'While words of learned length and thundering sound Amaze the wondering rustics gathered round. 

 'A genial idiot, Hodges yclept, has persuaded the whole village that a murder is on the carpet, and that Billy and I are at daggers drawn. Don't tell him this in any of your letters. It's a great tribute to our acting that even Hodges takes us to be in earnest. I can't call to mind any stage row I ever listened to that I shouldn't have spotted the hollowness of in a brace of shakes. At this minute Author summons Actor to Rehearsal. I close up. This Scrawl to tell you I haven't forgotten you. Would have written more, but authority's voice is urgent. 

 'Your affectionate brother, 'J. '

'I think you had something to say, sir, ' said the military officialturning to Barndale, and handing the letter back to Lilian. 

'The supposed quarrel between poor Leland and myself is easilyexplained. We were rehearsing for amateur theatricals, almost nightly, in a somewhat animated scene, and I can only suppose that we wereoverheard, and that our play was taken for earnest. '

'Have you any clue to the whereabouts of this Greek?' the officer askedLilian. The doctor broke in--

'Miss Leland was describing the Greek to me this morning with a viewto his identification, when a man walked into the room, said he hadoverheard the lady through the open window, and had seen the man shedescribed two hours before. He was the boots of an hotel at Kingston. Wecame here at once, after sending an officer to look after him. '

'That will do, Mr. Webb, ' said the superior official. 'There can be nonecessity for detaining this gentleman. '

Lilian and the doctor read this last sentence in its most superficiallight, but Barndale rose and turned with a feeling of vast inwardrelief--

'Our bargain holds good still, ' he said to the inspector, as they wentdownstairs together. 

'Yes, sir, ' said the inspector, and bade the trio adieu with greatpoliteness. 

They three took train for Thames Ditton at once, and by the way Barndaletold the story of his arrest. 

Arrived at the historic 'Swan, ' they settled down to their separateavocations--Lilian and the doctor to nurse Leland, and Barndale to doall that in him lay to track the Greek. My story nears its close; andI may say at once, without word-spinning, that Demetri Agryopoulodisappeared, and was no more heard of. He was too wily to speak theEnglish described in the advertisement of his peculiarities. He spokeGerman like an Alsatian, French like a Gascon, and Italian like aPiedmontese, and could pass for any one of the three. By what devices heheld himself in secrecy it matters not here to say. But again, and forthe last time in this story, he went his way, and the darkness shroudedhim. 

On the day following Barndale's arrest and release, Lilian sat by herbrother's bedside, when the door of the bedroom opened noiselessly, andtwo women stole in on stealthy tiptoe. 

One was Barndale's maiden sister, and the other was poor little TheclaPerzio. 

Lilian kissed them both; and Thecla said, in a tearful, frightenedwhisper. 

'It is all my wicked, wicked fault. But O mademoiselle, may I not helpto nurse him?'

'Not mademoiselle, dear--Lilian!' was Lilian's sole answer. 

So the three women stayed, together with mamma Leland, and nursed theinvalid in couples. And it came to pass that the indiscreet littleThecla won everybody's heart about the place, and that everybody came tobe assured that no lack of maidenly honour had made her indiscreet, butonly a very natural, unsuspecting, childlike confidence. It came to passalso that when Leland Junior began to get better he saw good andsufficient reasons for setting a term to his bachelor existence. 

And with no great difficulty Thecla Perzio was brought to his opinion. 

By Christmas time Leland was well and strong again. The chase after theGreek was dismissed from the official mind by this time: and Barndale, being reminded of Inspector Webb by the receipt of the promissory notefor five hundred pounds, wrote to that official to offer him a week ortwo in the country. The inspector came, and brought the marvellous pipewith him. It had been detained until then to be put in evidence in caseof the Greek's arrest and trial. 

The inspector heard the comedy, and told Barndale, later on, that heregarded the quarrel scene as a masterpiece of histrionic art. 

'I don't wonder that bumpkin took it all for earnest, ' he said. 'Ishould ha' done that myself. No, thankee, sir. I don't care about mixingwith the lords and swells upstairs. I'll have a look in on the butler. Smoking the old pipe again, I see, sir. Not many old meerschaumsknocking about with a tale like that attached to 'em. '

It pleases me to add that Doctor Wattiss officiated at Leland's wedding, and married the maiden sister.