THELOCK AND KEYLIBRARY

CLASSIC MYSTERY ANDDETECTIVE STORIES

_EDITED BY_JULIAN HAWTHORNE

MODERN ENGLISH

 Rudyard Kipling A. Conan Doyle

 Egerton Castle

 Stanley J. Weyman Wilkie Collins

 Robert Louis Stevenson

 NEW YORK THE REVIEW OF REVIEWS CO. 1909

[Illustration: "And Sent out a Jet of Fire from His Nostrils"

Drawing by Power O'Malley. To illustrate "In the House of Suddhoo, " byRudyard Kipling]

Rudyard Kipling

_My Own True Ghost Story_

 As I came through the Desert thus it was-- As I came through the Desert. _The City of Dreadful Night. _

Somewhere in the Other World, where there are books and pictures and playsand shop windows to look at, and thousands of men who spend their lives inbuilding up all four, lives a gentleman who writes real stories about thereal insides of people; and his name is Mr. Walter Besant. But he willinsist upon treating his ghosts--he has published half a workshopful ofthem--with levity. He makes his ghost-seers talk familiarly, and, in somecases, flirt outrageously, with the phantoms. You may treat anything, froma Viceroy to a Vernacular Paper, with levity; but you must behavereverently toward a ghost, and particularly an Indian one. 

There are, in this land, ghosts who take the form of fat, cold, pobbycorpses, and hide in trees near the roadside till a traveler passes. Thenthey drop upon his neck and remain. There are also terrible ghosts ofwomen who have died in child-bed. These wander along the pathways at dusk, or hide in the crops near a village, and call seductively. But to answertheir call is death in this world and the next. Their feet are turnedbackward that all sober men may recognize them. There are ghosts of littlechildren who have been thrown into wells. These haunt well curbs and thefringes of jungles, and wail under the stars, or catch women by the wristand beg to be taken up and carried. These and the corpse ghosts, however, are only vernacular articles and do not attack Sahibs. No native ghost hasyet been authentically reported to have frightened an Englishman; butmany English ghosts have scared the life out of both white and black. 

Nearly every other Station owns a ghost. There are said to be two atSimla, not counting the woman who blows the bellows at Syree dâk-bungalowon the Old Road; Mussoorie has a house haunted of a very lively Thing; aWhite Lady is supposed to do night-watchman round a house in Lahore;Dalhousie says that one of her houses "repeats" on autumn evenings all theincidents of a horrible horse-and-precipice accident; Murree has a merryghost, and, now that she has been swept by cholera, will have room for asorrowful one; there are Officers' Quarters in Mian Mir whose doors openwithout reason, and whose furniture is guaranteed to creak, not with theheat of June but with the weight of Invisibles who come to lounge in thechairs; Peshawur possesses houses that none will willingly rent; and thereis something--not fever--wrong with a big bungalow in Allahabad. The olderProvinces simply bristle with haunted houses, and march phantom armiesalong their main thoroughfares. 

Some of the dâk-bungalows on the Grand Trunk Road have handy littlecemeteries in their compound--witnesses to the "changes and chances ofthis mortal life" in the days when men drove from Calcutta to theNorthwest. These bungalows are objectionable places to put up in. They aregenerally very old, always dirty, while the _khansamah_ is as ancient asthe bungalow. He either chatters senilely, or falls into the long trancesof age. In both moods he is useless. If you get angry with him, he refersto some Sahib dead and buried these thirty years, and says that when hewas in that Sahib's service not a _khansamah_ in the Province could touchhim. Then he jabbers and mows and trembles and fidgets among the dishes, and you repent of your irritation. 

In these dâk-bungalows, ghosts are most likely to be found, and whenfound, they should be made a note of. Not long ago it was my business tolive in dâk-bungalows. I never inhabited the same house for three nightsrunning, and grew to be learned in the breed. I lived in Government-builtones with red brick walls and rail ceilings, an inventory of the furnitureposted in every room, and an excited snake at the threshold to givewelcome. I lived in "converted" ones--old houses officiating asdâk-bungalows--where nothing was in its proper place and there wasn't evena fowl for dinner. I lived in second-hand palaces where the wind blewthrough open-work marble tracery just as uncomfortably as through a brokenpane. I lived in dâk-bungalows where the last entry in the visitors' bookwas fifteen months old, and where they slashed off the curry-kid's headwith a sword. It was my good luck to meet all sorts of men, from sobertraveling missionaries and deserters flying from British Regiments, todrunken loafers who threw whisky bottles at all who passed; and my stillgreater good fortune just to escape a maternity case. Seeing that a fairproportion of the tragedy of our lives out here acted itself indâk-bungalows, I wondered that I had met no ghosts. A ghost that wouldvoluntarily hang about a dâk-bungalow would be mad of course; but so manymen have died mad in dâk-bungalows that there must be a fair percentage oflunatic ghosts. 

In due time I found my ghost, or ghosts rather, for there were two ofthem. Up till that hour I had sympathized with Mr. Besant's method ofhandling them, as shown in "The Strange Case of Mr. Lucraft and OtherStories. " I am now in the Opposition. 

We will call the bungalow Katmal dâk-bungalow. But _that_ was the smallestpart of the horror. A man with a sensitive hide has no right to sleep indâk-bungalows. He should marry. Katmal dâk-bungalow was old and rotten andunrepaired. The floor was of worn brick, the walls were filthy, and thewindows were nearly black with grime. It stood on a bypath largely used bynative Sub-Deputy Assistants of all kinds, from Finance to Forests; butreal Sahibs were rare. The _khansamah_, who was nearly bent double withold age, said so. 

When I arrived, there was a fitful, undecided rain on the face of theland, accompanied by a restless wind, and every gust made a noise like therattling of dry bones in the stiff toddy palms outside. The _khansamah_completely lost his head on my arrival. He had served a Sahib once. Did Iknow that Sahib? He gave me the name of a well-known man who has beenburied for more than a quarter of a century, and showed me an ancientdaguerreotype of that man in his prehistoric youth. I had seen a steelengraving of him at the head of a double volume of Memoirs a month before, and I felt ancient beyond telling. 

The day shut in and the _khansamah_ went to get me food. He did not gothrough the, pretense of calling it "_khana_"--man's victuals. He said"_ratub_, " and that means, among other things, "grub"--dog's rations. There was no insult in his choice of the term. He had forgotten the otherword, I suppose. 

While he was cutting up the dead bodies of animals, I settled myself down, after exploring the dâk-bungalow. There were three rooms, beside my own, which was a corner kennel, each giving into the other through dingy whitedoors fastened with long iron bars. The bungalow was a very solid one, butthe partition walls of the rooms were almost jerry-built in theirflimsiness. Every step or bang of a trunk echoed from my room down theother three, and every footfall came back tremulously from the far walls. For this reason I shut the door. There were no lamps--only candles in longglass shades. An oil wick was set in the bathroom. 

For bleak, unadulterated misery that dâk-bungalow was the worst of themany that I had ever set foot in. There was no fireplace, and the windowswould not open; so a brazier of charcoal would have been useless. The rainand the wind splashed and gurgled and moaned round the house, and thetoddy palms rattled and roared. Half a dozen jackals went through thecompound singing, and a hyena stood afar off and mocked them. A hyenawould convince a Sadducee of the Resurrection of the Dead--the worst sortof Dead. Then came the _ratub_--a curious meal, half native and halfEnglish in composition--with the old _khansamah_ babbling behind my chairabout dead and gone English people, and the wind-blown candles playingshadow-bo-peep with the bed and the mosquito-curtains. It was just thesort of dinner and evening to make a man think of every single one of hispast sins, and of all the others that he intended to commit if he lived. 

Sleep, for several hundred reasons, was not easy. The lamp in the bathroomthrew the most absurd shadows into the room, and the wind was beginning totalk nonsense. 

Just when the reasons were drowsy with blood-sucking I heard theregular--"Let-us-take-and-heave-him-over" grunt of doolie-bearers in thecompound. First one doolie came in, then a second, and then a third. Iheard the doolies dumped on the ground, and the shutter in front of mydoor shook. "That's some one trying to come in, " I said. But no one spoke, and I persuaded myself that it was the gusty wind. The shutter of the roomnext to mine was attacked, flung back, and the inner door opened. "That'ssome Sub-Deputy Assistant, " I said, "and he has brought his friends withhim. Now they'll talk and spit and smoke for an hour. "

But there were no voices and no footsteps. No one was putting his luggageinto the next room. The door shut, and I thanked Providence that I was tobe left in peace. But I was curious to know where the doolies had gone. Igot out of bed and looked into the darkness. There was never a sign of adoolie. Just as I was getting into bed again, I heard, in the next room, the sound that no man in his senses can possibly mistake--the whir of abilliard ball down the length of the slates when the striker is stringingfor break. No other sound is like it. A minute afterwards there wasanother whir, and I got into bed. I was not frightened--indeed I was not. I was very curious to know what had become of the doolies. I jumped intobed for that reason. 

Next minute I heard the double click of a cannon and my hair sat up. It isa mistake to say that hair stands up. The skin of the head tightens andyou can feel a faint, prickly, bristling all over the scalp. That is thehair sitting up. 

There was a whir and a click, and both sounds could only have been made byone thing--a billiard ball. I argued the matter out at great length withmyself; and the more I argued the less probable it seemed that one bed, one table, and two chairs--all the furniture of the room next tomine--could so exactly duplicate the sounds of a game of billiards. Afteranother cannon, a three-cushion one to judge by the whir, I argued nomore. I had found my ghost and would have given worlds to have escapedfrom that dâk-bungalow. I listened, and with each listen the game grewclearer. There was whir on whir and click on click. Sometimes there was adouble click and a whir and another click. Beyond any sort of doubt, people were playing billiards in the next room. And the next room was notbig enough to hold a billiard table!

Between the pauses of the wind I heard the game go forward--stroke afterstroke. I tried to believe that I could not hear voices; but that attemptwas a failure. 

Do you know what fear is? Not ordinary fear of insult, injury or death, but abject, quivering dread of something that you cannot see--fear thatdries the inside of the mouth and half of the throat--fear that makes yousweat on the palms of the hands, and gulp in order to keep the uvula atwork? This is a fine Fear--a great cowardice, and must be felt to beappreciated. The very improbability of billiards in a dâk-bungalow provedthe reality of the thing. No man--drunk or sober--could imagine a game atbilliards, or invent the spitting crack of a "screw-cannon. "

A severe course of dâk-bungalows has this disadvantage--it breeds infinitecredulity. If a man said to a confirmed dâk-bungalow-haunter:--"There is acorpse in the next room, and there's a mad girl in the next but one, andthe woman and man on that camel have just eloped from a place sixty milesaway, " the hearer would not disbelieve because he would know that nothingis too wild, grotesque, or horrible to happen in a dâk-bungalow. 

This credulity, unfortunately, extends to ghosts. A rational person freshfrom his own house would have turned on his side and slept. I did not. Sosurely as I was given up as a bad carcass by the scores of things in thebed because the bulk of my blood was in my heart, so surely did I hearevery stroke of a long game at billiards played in the echoing room behindthe iron-barred door. My dominant fear was that the players might want amarker. It was an absurd fear; because creatures who could play in thedark would be above such superfluities. I only know that that was myterror; and it was real. 

After a long, long while the game stopped, and the door banged. I sleptbecause I was dead tired. Otherwise I should have preferred to have keptawake. Not for everything in Asia would I have dropped the door-bar andpeered into the dark of the next room. 

When the morning came, I considered that I had done well and wisely, andinquired for the means of departure. 

"By the way, _khansamah_, " I said, "what were those three doolies doing inmy compound in the night?"

"There were no doolies, " said the _khansamah_. 

I went into the next room and the daylight streamed through the open door. I was immensely brave. I would, at that hour, have played Black Pool withthe owner of the big Black Pool down below. 

"Has this place always been a dâk-bungalow?" I asked. 

"No, " said the _khansamah_. "Ten or twenty years ago, I have forgotten howlong, it was a billiard room. "

"A how much?"

"A billiard room for the Sahibs who built the Railway. I was _khansamah_then in the big house where all the Railway-Sahibs lived, and I used tocome across with brandy-_shrab_. These three rooms were all one, and theyheld a big table on which the Sahibs played every evening. But the Sahibsare all dead now, and the Railway runs, you say, nearly to Kabul. "

"Do you remember anything about the Sahibs?"

"It is long ago, but I remember that one Sahib, a fat man and alwaysangry, was playing here one night, and he said to me:--'Mangal Khan, brandy-_pani do_, ' and I filled the glass, and he bent over the table tostrike, and his head fell lower and lower till it hit the table, and hisspectacles came off, and when we--the Sahibs and I myself--ran to lift himhe was dead. I helped to carry him out. Aha, he was a strong Sahib! But heis dead and I, old Mangal Khan, am still living, by your favor. "

That was more than enough! I had my ghost--a first-hand, authenticatedarticle. I would write to the Society for Psychical Research--I wouldparalyze the Empire with the news! But I would, first of all, put eightymiles of assessed crop land between myself and that dâk-bungalow beforenightfall. The Society might send their regular agent to investigate lateron. 

I went into my own room and prepared to pack after noting down the factsof the case. As I smoked I heard the game begin again, --with a miss inbalk this time, for the whir was a short one. 

The door was open and I could see into the room. _Click--click!_ That wasa cannon. I entered the room without fear, for there was sunlight withinand a fresh breeze without. The unseen game was going on at a tremendousrate. And well it might, when a restless little rat was running to and froinside the dingy ceiling-cloth, and a piece of loose window-sash wasmaking fifty breaks off the window-bolt as it shook in the breeze!

Impossible to mistake the sound of billiard balls! Impossible to mistakethe whir of a ball over the slate! But I was to be excused. Even when Ishut my enlightened eyes the sound was marvelously like that of a fastgame. 

Entered angrily the faithful partner of my sorrows, Kadir Baksh. 

"This bungalow is very bad and low-caste! No wonder the Presence wasdisturbed and is speckled. Three sets of doolie-bearers came to thebungalow late last night when I was sleeping outside, and said that it wastheir custom to rest in the rooms set apart for the English people! Whathonor has the _khansamah_? They tried to enter, but I told them to go. Nowonder, if these _Oorias_ have been here, that the Presence is sorelyspotted. It is shame, and the work of a dirty man!"

Kadir Baksh did not say that he had taken from each gang two annas forrent in advance, and then, beyond my earshot, had beaten them with the biggreen umbrella whose use I could never before divine. But Kadir Baksh hasno notions of morality. 

There was an interview with the _khansamah_, but as he promptly lost hishead, wrath gave place to pity, and pity led to a long conversation, inthe course of which he put the fat Engineer-Sahib's tragic death in threeseparate stations--two of them fifty miles away. The third shift was toCalcutta, and there the Sahib died while driving a dog-cart. 

If I had encouraged him the _khansamah_ would have wandered all throughBengal with his corpse. 

I did not go away as soon as I intended. I stayed for the night, while thewind and the rat and the sash and the window-bolt played a ding-dong"hundred and fifty up. " Then the wind ran out and the billiards stopped, and I felt that I had ruined my one genuine, hall-marked ghost story. 

Had I only stopped at the proper time, I could have made _anything_ out ofit. 

That was the bitterest thought of all!

_The Sending of Dana Da_

 When the Devil rides on your chest, remember the _chamar_. _--Native Proverb. _

Once upon a time some people in India made a new heaven and a new earthout of broken teacups, a missing brooch or two, and a hair brush. Thesewere hidden under bushes, or stuffed into holes in the hillside, and anentire civil service of subordinate gods used to find or mend them again;and everyone said: "There are more things in heaven and earth than aredreamed of in our philosophy. " Several other things happened also, but thereligion never seemed to get much beyond its first manifestations; thoughit added an air-line postal _dak_, and orchestral effects in order to keepabreast of the times, and stall off competition. 

This religion was too elastic for ordinary use. It stretched itself andembraced pieces of everything that medicine men of all ages havemanufactured. It approved and stole from Freemasonry; looted theLatter-day Rosicrucians of half their pet words; took any fragments ofEgyptian philosophy that it found in the Encyclopædia Britannica; annexedas many of the Vedas as had been translated into French or English, andtalked of all the rest; built in the German versions of what is left ofthe Zend Avesta; encouraged white, gray, and black magic, includingSpiritualism, palmistry, fortune-telling by cards, hot chestnuts, double-kerneled nuts and tallow droppings; would have adopted Voodoo andOboe had it known anything about them, and showed itself, in every way, one of the most accommodating arrangements that had ever been inventedsince the birth of the sea. 

When it was in thorough working order, with all the machinery down to thesubscriptions complete, Dana Da came from nowhere, with nothing in hishands, and wrote a chapter in its history which has hitherto beenunpublished. He said that his first name was Dana, and his second was Da. Now, setting aside Dana of the New York _Sun_, Dana is a Bhil name, and Dafits no native of India unless you accept the Bengali Dé as the originalspelling. Da is Lap or Finnish; and Dana Da was neither Finn, Chin, Bhil, Bengali, Lap, Nair, Gond, Romaney, Magh, Bokhariot, Kurd, Armenian, Levantine, Jew, Persian, Punjabi, Madrasi, Parsee, nor anything else knownto ethnologists. He was simply Dana Da, and declined to give furtherinformation. For the sake of brevity, and as roughly indicating hisorigin, he was called "The Native. " He might have been the original OldMan of the Mountains, who is said to be the only authorized head of theTeacup Creed. Some people said that he was; but Dana Da used to smile anddeny any connection with the cult; explaining that he was an "independentexperimenter. "

As I have said, he came from nowhere, with his hands behind his back, andstudied the creed for three weeks; sitting at the feet of those bestcompetent to explain its mysteries. Then he laughed aloud and went away, but the laugh might have been either of devotion or derision. 

When he returned he was without money, but his pride was unabated. Hedeclared that he knew more about the things in heaven and earth than thosewho taught him, and for this contumacy was abandoned altogether. 

His next appearance in public life was at a big cantonment in Upper India, and he was then telling fortunes with the help of three leaden dice, avery dirty old cloth, and a little tin box of opium pills. He told betterfortunes when he was allowed half a bottle of whisky; but the things whichhe invented on the opium were quite worth the money. He was in reducedcircumstances. Among other people's he told the fortune of an Englishmanwho had once been interested in the Simla creed, but who, later on, hadmarried and forgotten all his old knowledge in the study of babies andExchange. The Englishman allowed Dana Da to tell a fortune for charity'ssake, and, gave him five rupees, a dinner, and some old clothes. When hehad eaten, Dana Da professed gratitude, and asked if there were anythinghe could do for his host--in the esoteric line. 

"Is there anyone that you love?" said Dana Da. The Englishman loved hiswife, but had no desire to drag her name into the conversation. Hetherefore shook his head. 

"Is there anyone that you hate?" said Dana Da. The Englishman said thatthere were several men whom he hated deeply. 

"Very good, " said Dana Da, upon whom the whisky and the opium werebeginning to tell. "Only give me their names, and I will dispatch aSending to them and kill them. "

Now a Sending is a horrible arrangement, first invented, they say, inIceland. It is a thing sent by a wizard, and may take any form, but mostgenerally wanders about the land in the shape of a little purple cloudtill it finds the sendee, and him it kills by changing into the form of ahorse, or a cat, or a man without a face. It is not strictly a nativepatent, though _chamars_ can, if irritated, dispatch a Sending which sitson the breast of their enemy by night and nearly kills him. Very fewnatives care to irritate _chamars_ for this reason. 

"Let me dispatch a Sending, " said Dana Da; "I am nearly dead now withwant, and drink, and opium; but I should like to kill a man before I die. I can send a Sending anywhere you choose, and in any form except in theshape of a man. "

The Englishman had no friends that he wished to kill, but partly to sootheDana Da, whose eyes were rolling, and partly to see what would be done, heasked whether a modified Sending could not be arranged for--such a Sendingas should make a man's life a burden to him, and yet do him no harm. Ifthis were possible, he notified his willingness to give Dana Da ten rupeesfor the job. 

"I am not what I was once, " said Dana Da, "and I must take the moneybecause I am poor. To what Englishman shall I send it?"

"Send a Sending to Lone Sahib, " said the Englishman, naming a man who hadbeen most bitter in rebuking him for his apostasy from the Teacup Creed. Dana Da laughed and nodded. 

"I could have chosen no better man myself, " said he. "I will see that hefinds the Sending about his path and about his bed. "

He lay down on the hearthrug, turned up the whites of his eyes, shiveredall over, and began to snort. This was magic, or opium, or the Sending, orall three. When he opened his eyes he vowed that the Sending had startedupon the warpath, and was at that moment flying up to the town where LoneSahib lives. 

"Give me my ten rupees, " said Dana Da, wearily, "and write a letter toLone Sahib, telling him, and all who believe with him, that you and afriend are using a power greater than theirs. They will see that you arespeaking the truth. "

He departed unsteadily, with the promise of some more rupees if anythingcame of the Sending. 

The Englishman sent a letter to Lone Sahib, couched in what he rememberedof the terminology of the creed. He wrote: "I also, in the days of whatyou held to be my backsliding, have obtained enlightenment, and withenlightenment has come power. " Then he grew so deeply mysterious that therecipient of the letter could make neither head nor tail of it, and wasproportionately impressed; for he fancied that his friend had become a"fifth rounder. " When a man is a "fifth rounder" he can do more than Sladeand Houdin combined. 

Lone Sahib read the letter in five different fashions, and was beginning asixth interpretation, when his bearer dashed in with the news that therewas a cat on the bed. Now, if there was one thing that Lone Sahib hatedmore than another it was a cat. He rated the bearer for not turning it outof the house. The bearer said that he was afraid. All the doors of thebedroom had been shut throughout the morning, and no real cat couldpossibly have entered the room. He would prefer not to meddle with thecreature. 

Lone Sahib entered the room gingerly, and there, on the pillow of his bed, sprawled and whimpered a wee white kitten, not a jumpsome, frisky littlebeast, but a sluglike crawler with its eyes barely opened and its pawslacking strength or direction--a kitten that ought to have been in abasket with its mamma. Lone Sahib caught it by the scruff of its neck, handed it over to the sweeper to be drowned, and fined the bearer fourannas. 

That evening, as he was reading in his room, he fancied that he sawsomething moving about on the hearthrug, outside the circle of light fromhis reading lamp. When the thing began to myowl, he realized that it was akitten--a wee white kitten, nearly blind and very miserable. He wasseriously angry, and spoke bitterly to his bearer, who said that there wasno kitten in the room when he brought in the lamp, and real kittens oftender age generally had mother cats in attendance. 

"If the Presence will go out into the veranda and listen, " said thebearer, "he will hear no cats. How, therefore, can the kitten on the bedand the kitten on the hearthrug be real kittens?"

Lone Sahib went out to listen, and the bearer followed him, but there wasno sound of Rachel mewing for her children. He returned to his room, having hurled the kitten down the hillside, and wrote out the incidents ofthe day for the benefit of his coreligionists. Those people were soabsolutely free from superstition that they ascribed anything a little outof the common to agencies. As it was their business to know all about theagencies, they were on terms of almost indecent familiarity withmanifestations of every kind. Their letters dropped from theceiling--unstamped--and spirits used to squatter up and down theirstaircases all night. But they had never come into contact with kittens. Lone Sahib wrote out the facts, noting the hour and the minute, as everypsychical observer is bound to do, and appending the Englishman's letterbecause it was the most mysterious document and might have had a bearingupon anything in this world or the next. An outsider would havetranslated all the tangle thus: "Look out! You laughed at me once, and nowI am going to make you sit up. "

Lone Sahib's coreligionists found that meaning in it; but theirtranslation was refined and full of four-syllable words. They held asederunt, and were filled with tremulous joy, for, in spite of theirfamiliarity with all the other worlds and cycles, they had a very humanawe of things sent from ghostland. They met in Lone Sahib's room inshrouded and sepulchral gloom, and their conclave was broken up by aclinking among the photo frames on the mantelpiece. A wee white kitten, nearly blind, was looping and writhing itself between the clock and thecandlesticks. That stopped all investigations or doubtings. Here was themanifestation in the flesh. It was, so far as could be seen, devoid ofpurpose, but it was a manifestation of undoubted authenticity. 

They drafted a round robin to the Englishman, the backslider of old days, adjuring him in the interests of the creed to explain whether there wasany connection between the embodiment of some Egyptian god or other (Ihave forgotten the name) and his communication. They called the kitten Ra, or Toth, or Shem, or Noah, or something; and when Lone Sahib confessedthat the first one had, at his most misguided instance, been drowned bythe sweeper, they said consolingly that in his next life he would be a"bounder, " and not even a "rounder" of the lowest grade. These words maynot be quite correct, but they express the sense of the house accurately. 

When the Englishman received the round robin--it came by post--he wasstartled and bewildered. He sent into the bazaar for Dana Da, who read theletter and laughed. "That is my Sending, " said he. "I told you I wouldwork well. Now give me another ten rupees. "

"But what in the world is this gibberish about Egyptian gods?" asked theEnglishman. 

"Cats, " said Dana Da, with a hiccough, for he had discovered theEnglishman's whisky bottle. "Cats and cats and cats! Never was such aSending. A hundred of cats. Now give me ten more rupees and write as Idictate. "

Dana Da's letter was a curiosity. It bore the Englishman's signature, andhinted at cats--at a Sending of cats. The mere words on paper were creepyand uncanny to behold. 

"What have you done, though?" said the Englishman; "I am as much in thedark as ever. Do you mean to say that you can actually send this absurdSending you talk about?"

"Judge for yourself, " said Dana Da. "What does that letter mean? In alittle time they will all be at my feet and yours, and I, oh, glory! willbe drugged or drunk all day long. "

Dana Da knew his people. 

When a man who hates cats wakes up in the morning and finds a littlesquirming kitten on his breast, or puts his hand into his ulster pocketand finds a little half-dead kitten where his gloves should be, or openshis trunk and finds a vile kitten among his dress shirts, or goes for along ride with his mackintosh strapped on his saddle-bow and shakes alittle sprawling kitten from its folds when he opens it, or goes out todinner and finds a little blind kitten under his chair, or stays at homeand finds a writhing kitten under the quilt, or wriggling among his boots, or hanging, head downward, in his tobacco jar, or being mangled by histerrier in the veranda--when such a man finds one kitten, neither more norless, once a day in a place where no kitten rightly could or should be, heis naturally upset. When he dare not murder his daily trove because hebelieves it to be a manifestation, an emissary, an embodiment, and half adozen other things all out of the regular course of nature, he is morethan upset. He is actually distressed. Some of Lone Sahib's coreligioniststhought that he was a highly favored individual; but many said that if hehad treated the first kitten with proper respect--as suited a Toth-RaTum-Sennacherib Embodiment--all his trouble would have been averted. Theycompared him to the Ancient Mariner, but none the less they were proud ofhim and proud of the Englishman who had sent the manifestation. They didnot call it a Sending because Icelandic magic was not in their programme. 

After sixteen kittens--that is to say, after one fortnight, for there werethree kittens on the first day to impress the fact of the Sending, thewhole camp was uplifted by a letter--it came flying through a window--fromthe Old Man of the Mountains--the head of all the creed--explaining themanifestation in the most beautiful language and soaking up all the creditof it for himself. The Englishman, said the letter, was not there at all. He was a backslider without power or asceticism, who couldn't even raise atable by force of volition, much less project an army of kittens throughspace. The entire arrangement, said the letter, was strictly orthodox, worked and sanctioned by the highest authorities within the pale of thecreed. There was great joy at this, for some of the weaker brethren seeingthat an outsider who had been working on independent lines could createkittens, whereas their own rulers had never gone beyond crockery--andbroken at that--were showing a desire to break line on their own trail. Infact, there was the promise of a schism. A second round robin was draftedto the Englishman, beginning: "Oh, Scoffer, " and ending with a selectionof curses from the rites of Mizraim and Memphis and the Commination ofJugana; who was a "fifth rounder, " upon whose name an upstart "thirdrounder" once traded. A papal excommunication is a _billet-doux_ comparedto the Commination of Jugana. The Englishman had been proved under thehand and seal of the Old Man of the Mountains to have appropriated virtueand pretended to have power which, in reality, belonged only to thesupreme head. Naturally the round robin did not spare him. 

He handed the letter to Dana Da to translate into decent English. Theeffect on Dana Da was curious. At first he was furiously angry, and thenhe laughed for five minutes. 

"I had thought, " he said, "that they would have come to me. In anotherweek I would have shown that I sent the Sending, and they would havediscrowned the Old Man of the Mountains who has sent this Sending of mine. Do you do nothing. The time has come for me to act. Write as I dictate, and I will put them to shame. But give me ten more rupees. "

At Dana Da's dictation the Englishman wrote nothing less than a formalchallenge to the Old Man of the Mountains. It wound up: "And if thismanifestation be from your hand, then let it go forward; but if it be frommy hand, I will that the Sending shall cease in two days' time. On thatday there shall be twelve kittens and thenceforward none at all. Thepeople shall judge between us. " This was signed by Dana Da, who addedpentacles and pentagrams, and a _crux ansata_, and half a dozen_swastikas_, and a Triple Tau to his name, just to show that he was all helaid claim to be. 

The challenge was read out to the gentlemen and ladies, and theyremembered then that Dana Da had laughed at them some years ago. It wasofficially announced that the Old Man of the Mountains would treat thematter with contempt; Dana Da being an independent investigator without asingle "round" at the back of him. But this did not soothe his people. They wanted to see a fight. They were very human for all theirspirituality. Lone Sahib, who was really being worn out with kittens, submitted meekly to his fate. He felt that he was being "kittened to provethe power of Dana Da, " as the poet says. 

When the stated day dawned, the shower of kittens began. Some were whiteand some were tabby, and all were about the same loathsome age. Three wereon his hearthrug, three in his bathroom, and the other six turned up atintervals among the visitors who came to see the prophecy break down. Never was a more satisfactory Sending. On the next day there were nokittens, and the next day and all the other days were kittenless andquiet. The people murmured and looked to the Old Man of the Mountains foran explanation. A letter, written on a palm leaf, dropped from theceiling, but everyone except Lone Sahib felt that letters were not whatthe occasion demanded. There should have been cats, there should have beencats--full-grown ones. The letter proved conclusively that there had beena hitch in the psychic current which, colliding with a dual identity, hadinterfered with the percipient activity all along the main line. Thekittens were still going on, but owing to some failure in the developingfluid, they were not materialized. The air was thick with letters for afew days afterwards. Unseen hands played Glück and Beethoven onfinger-bowls and clock shades; but all men felt that psychic life was amockery without materialized kittens. Even Lone Sahib shouted with themajority on this head. Dana Da's letters were very insulting, and if hehad then offered to lead a new departure, there is no knowing what mightnot have happened. 

But Dana Da was dying of whisky and opium in the Englishman's go-down, andhad small heart for new creeds. 

"They have been put to shame, " said he. "Never was such a Sending. It haskilled me. "

"Nonsense, " said the Englishman, "you are going to die, Dana Da, and thatsort of stuff must be left behind. I'll admit that you have made somequeer things come about. Tell me honestly, now, how was it done?"

"Give me ten more rupees, " said Dana Da, faintly, "and if I die before Ispend them, bury them with me. " The silver was counted out while Dana Dawas fighting with death. His hand closed upon the money and he smiled agrim smile. 

"Bend low, " he whispered. The Englishman bent. 

"_Bunnia_--mission school--expelled--_box-wallah_ (peddler)--Ceylon pearlmerchant--all mine English education--outcasted, and made up name DanaDa--England with American thought-reading man and--and--you gave me tenrupees several times--I gave the Sahib's bearer two-eight a month forcats--little, little cats. I wrote, and he put them about--very cleverman. Very few kittens now in the bazaar. Ask Lone Sahib's sweeper's wife. "

So saying, Dana Da gasped and passed away into a land where, if all betrue, there are no materializations and the making of new creeds isdiscouraged. 

But consider the gorgeous simplicity of it all!

_In the House of Suddhoo_

 A stone's throw out on either hand From that well-ordered road we tread, And all the world is wild and strange; _Churel_ and ghoul and _Djinn_ and sprite Shall bear us company to-night, For we have reached the Oldest Land Wherein the Powers of Darkness range. 

 _--From the Dusk to the Dawn. _

The house of Suddhoo, near the Taksali Gate, is two storied, with fourcarved windows of old brown wood, and a flat roof. You may recognize it byfive red handprints arranged like the Five of Diamonds on the whitewashbetween the upper windows. Bhagwan Dass, the bunnia, and a man who says hegets his living by seal-cutting live in the lower story with a troop ofwives, servants, friends, and retainers. The two upper rooms used to beoccupied by Janoo and Azizun and a little black-and-tan terrier that wasstolen from an Englishman's house and given to Janoo by a soldier. To-day, only Janoo lives in the upper rooms. Suddhoo sleeps on the roof generally, except when he sleeps in the street. He used to go to Peshawar in the coldweather to visit his son, who sells curiosities near the Edwardes' Gate, and then he slept under a real mud roof. Suddhoo is a great friend ofmine, because his cousin had a son who secured, thanks to myrecommendation, the post of head messenger to a big firm in the Station. Suddhoo says that God will make me a Lieutenant-Governor one of thesedays. I daresay his prophecy will come true. He is very, very old, withwhite hair and no teeth worth showing, and he has outlived hiswits--outlived nearly everything except his fondness for his son atPeshawar. Janoo and Azizun are Kashmiris, Ladies of the City, and theirswas an ancient and more or less honorable profession; but Azizun has sincemarried a medical student from the Northwest and has settled down to amost respectable life somewhere near Bareilly. Bhagwan Dass is anextortionate and an adulterator. He is very rich. The man who is supposedto get his living by seal cutting pretends to be very poor. This lets youknow as much as is necessary of the four principal tenants in the house ofSuddhoo. Then there is Me, of course; but I am only the chorus that comesin at the end to explain things. So I do not count. 

Suddhoo was not clever. The man who pretended to cut seals was thecleverest of them all--Bhagwan Dass only knew how to lie--except Janoo. She was also beautiful, but that was her own affair. 

Suddhoo's son at Peshawar was attacked by pleurisy, and old Suddhoo wastroubled. The seal-cutter man heard of Suddhoo's anxiety and made capitalout of it. He was abreast of the times. He got a friend in Peshawar totelegraph daily accounts of the son's health. And here the story begins. 

Suddhoo's cousin's son told me, one evening, that Suddhoo wanted to seeme; that he was too old and feeble to come personally, and that I shouldbe conferring an everlasting honor on the House of Suddhoo if I went tohim. I went; but I think, seeing how well off Suddhoo was then, that hemight have sent something better than an _ekka_, which jolted fearfully, to haul out a future Lieutenant-Governor to the City on a muggy Aprilevening. The _ekka_ did not run quickly. It was full dark when we pulledup opposite the door of Ranjit Singh's Tomb near the main gate of theFort. Here was Suddhoo and he said that by reason of my condescension, itwas absolutely certain that I should become a Lieutenant-Governor whilemy hair was yet black. Then we talked about the weather and the state ofmy health, and the wheat crops, for fifteen minutes, in the Huzuri Bagh, under the stars. 

Suddhoo came to the point at last. He said that Janoo had told him thatthere was an order of the _Sirkar_ against magic, because it was fearedthat magic might one day kill the Empress of India. I didn't know anythingabout the state of the law; but I fancied that something interesting wasgoing to happen. I said that so far from magic being discouraged by theGovernment it was highly commended. The greatest officials of the Statepracticed it themselves. (If the Financial Statement isn't magic, I don'tknow what is. ) Then, to encourage him further, I said that, if there wasany _jadoo_ afoot, I had not the least objection to giving it mycountenance and sanction, and to seeing that it was clean _jadoo_--whitemagic, as distinguished from the unclean _jadoo_ which kills folk. It tooka long time before Suddhoo admitted that this was just what he had askedme to come for. Then he told me, in jerks and quavers, that the man whosaid he cut seals was a sorcerer of the cleanest kind; that every day hegave Suddhoo news of his sick son in Peshawar more quickly than thelightning could fly, and that this news was always corroborated by theletters. Further, that he had told Suddhoo how a great danger wasthreatening his son, which could be removed by clean _jadoo_; and, ofcourse, heavy payment. I began to see exactly how the land lay, and toldSuddhoo that _I_ also understood a little _jadoo_ in the Western line, andwould go to his house to see that everything was done decently and inorder. We set off together; and on the way Suddhoo told me that he hadpaid the seal cutter between one hundred and two hundred rupees already;and the _jadoo_ of that night would cost two hundred more. Which wascheap, he said, considering the greatness of his son's danger; but I donot think he meant it. 

The lights were all cloaked in the front of the house when we arrived. Icould hear awful noises from behind the seal cutter's shop front, as ifsome one were groaning his soul out. Suddhoo shook all over, and while wegroped our way upstairs told me that the _jadoo_ had begun. Janoo andAzizun met us at the stair head, and told us that the _jadoo_ work wascoming off in their rooms, because there was more space there. Janoo is alady of a freethinking turn of mind. She whispered that the _jadoo_ was aninvention to get money out of Suddhoo, and that the seal cutter would goto a hot place when he died. Suddhoo was nearly crying with fear and oldage. He kept walking up and down the room in the half light, repeating hisson's name over and over again, and asking Azizun if the seal cutter oughtnot to make a reduction in the case of his own landlord. Janoo pulled meover to the shadow in the recess of the carved bow-windows. The boardswere up, and the rooms were only lit by one tiny oil lamp. There was nochance of my being seen if I stayed still. 

Presently, the groans below ceased, and we heard steps on the staircase. That was the seal cutter. He stopped outside the door as the terrierbarked and Azizun fumbled at the chain, and he told Suddhoo to blow outthe lamp. This left the place in jet darkness, except for the red glowfrom the two _huqas_ that belonged to Janoo and Azizun. The seal cuttercame in, and I heard Suddhoo throw himself down on the floor and groan. Azizun caught her breath, and Janoo backed on to one of the beds with ashudder. There was a clink of something metallic, and then shot up a paleblue-green flame near the ground. The light was just enough to showAzizun, pressed against one corner of the room with the terrier betweenher knees; Janoo, with her hands clasped, leaning forward as she sat onthe bed; Suddhoo, face down, quivering, and the seal cutter. 

I hope I may never see another man like that seal cutter. He was strippedto the waist, with a wreath of white jasmine as thick as my wrist roundhis forehead, a salmon-colored loin-cloth round his middle, and a steelbangle on each ankle. This was not awe-inspiring. It was the face of theman that turned me cold. It was blue-gray in the first place. In thesecond, the eyes were rolled back till you could only see the whites ofthem; and, in the third, the face was the face of a demon--aghoul--anything you please except of the sleek, oily old ruffian who satin the daytime over his turning-lathe downstairs. He was lying on hisstomach with his arms turned and crossed behind him, as if he had beenthrown down pinioned. His head and neck were the only parts of him off thefloor. They were nearly at right angles to the body, like the head of acobra at spring. It was ghastly. In the center of the room, on the bareearth floor, stood a big, deep, brass basin, with a pale blue-green lightfloating in the center like a night-light. Round that basin the man on thefloor wriggled himself three times. How he did it I do not know. I couldsee the muscles ripple along his spine and fall smooth again; but I couldnot see any other motion. The head seemed the only thing alive about him, except that slow curl and uncurl of the laboring back muscles. Janoo fromthe bed was breathing seventy to the minute; Azizun held her hands beforeher eyes; and old Suddhoo, fingering at the dirt that had got into hiswhite beard, was crying to himself. The horror of it was that thecreeping, crawly thing made no sound--only crawled! And, remember, thislasted for ten minutes, while the terrier whined, and Azizun shuddered, and Janoo gasped and Suddhoo cried. 

I felt the hair lift at the back of my head, and my heart thump like athermantidote paddle. Luckily, the seal cutter betrayed himself by hismost impressive trick and made me calm again. After he had finished thatunspeakable crawl, he stretched his head away from the floor as high as hecould, and sent out a jet of fire from his nostrils. Now I knew howfire--spouting is done--I can do it myself--so I felt at ease. Thebusiness was a fraud. If he had only kept to that crawl without trying toraise the effect, goodness knows what I might not have thought. Both thegirls shrieked at the jet of fire, and the head dropped, chin down on thefloor, with a thud; the whole body lying then like a corpse with its armstrussed. There was a pause of five full minutes after this, and theblue-green flame died down. Janoo stooped to settle one of her anklets, while Azizun turned her face to the wall and took the terrier in her arms. Suddhoo put out an arm mechanically to Janoo's _huqa_, and she slid itacross the floor with her foot. Directly above the body and on the wallwere a couple of flaming portraits, in stamped paper frames, of the Queenand the Prince of Wales. They looked down on the performance, and, to mythinking, seemed to heighten the grotesqueness of it all. 

Just when the silence was getting unendurable, the body turned over androlled away from the basin to the side of the room, where it lay stomachup. There was a faint "plop" from the basin--exactly like the noise a fishmakes when it takes a fly--and the green light in the center revived. 

I looked at the basin, and saw, bobbing in the water the dried, shriveled, black head of a native baby--open eyes, open mouth and shaved scalp. Itwas worse, being so very sudden, than the crawling exhibition. We had notime to say anything before it began to speak. 

Read Poe's account of the voice that came from the mesmerized dying man, and you will realize less than one half of the horror of that head'svoice. 

There was an interval of a second or two between each word, and a sort of"ring, ring, ring, " in the note of the voice like the timbre of a bell. Itpealed slowly, as if talking to itself, for several minutes before I gotrid of my cold sweat. Then the blessed solution struck me. I looked at thebody lying near the doorway, and saw, just where the hollow of the throatjoins on the shoulders, a muscle that had nothing to do with any man'sregular breathing, twitching away steadily. The whole thing was a carefulreproduction of the Egyptian teraphin that one reads about sometimes; andthe voice was as clever and as appalling a piece of ventriloquism as onecould wish to hear. All this time the head was "lip-lip-lapping" againstthe side of the basin, and speaking. It told Suddhoo, on his face againwhining, of his son's illness and of the state of the illness up to theevening of that very night. I always shall respect the seal cutter forkeeping so faithfully to the time of the Peshawar telegrams. It went on tosay that skilled doctors were night and day watching over the man's life;and that he would eventually recover if the fee to the potent sorcerer, whose servant was the head in the basin, were doubled. 

Here the mistake from the artistic point of view came in. To ask for twiceyour stipulated fee in a voice that Lazarus might have used when he rosefrom the dead, is absurd. Janoo, who is really a woman of masculineintellect, saw this as quickly as I did. I heard her say "_Ash nahin!Fareib!_" scornfully under her breath; and just as she said so, the lightin the basin died out, the head stopped talking, and we heard the roomdoor creak on its hinges. Then Janoo struck a match, lit the lamp, and wesaw that head, basin, and seal cutter were gone. Suddhoo was wringing hishands and explaining to anyone who cared to listen, that, if his chancesof eternal salvation depended on it, he could not raise another twohundred rupees. Azizun was nearly in hysterics in the corner; while Janoosat down composedly on one of the beds to discuss the probabilities of thewhole thing being a _bunao_, or "make-up. "

I explained as much as I knew of the seal cutter's way of _jadoo_; but herargument was much more simple:--"The magic that is always demanding giftsis no true magic, " said she. "My mother told me that the only potent lovespells are those which are told you for love. This seal cutter man is aliar and a devil. I dare not tell, do anything, or get anything done, because I am in debt to Bhagwan Dass the bunnia for two gold rings and aheavy anklet. I must get my food from his shop. The seal cutter is thefriend of Bhagwan Dass, and he would poison my food. A fool's _jadoo_ hasbeen going on for ten days, and has cost Suddhoo many rupees each night. The seal cutter used black hens and lemons and _mantras_ before. He nevershowed us anything like this till to-night. Azizun is a fool, and will bea _pur dahnashin_ soon. Suddhoo has lost his strength and his wits. Seenow! I had hoped to get from Suddhoo many rupees while he lived, and manymore after his death; and behold, he is spending everything on thatoffspring of a devil and a she-ass, the seal cutter!"

Here I said: "But what induced Suddhoo to drag me into the business? Ofcourse I can speak to the seal cutter, and he shall refund. The wholething is child's talk--shame--and senseless. "

"Suddhoo _is_ an old child, " said Janoo. "He has lived on the roofs theseseventy years and is as senseless as a milch goat. He brought you here toassure himself that he was not breaking any law of the _Sirkar_, whosesalt he ate many years ago. He worships the dust off the feet of the sealcutter, and that cow devourer has forbidden him to go and see his son. What does Suddhoo know of your laws or the lightning post? I have to watchhis money going day by day to that lying beast below. "

Janoo stamped her foot on the floor and nearly cried with vexation; whileSuddhoo was whimpering under a blanket in the corner, and Azizun wastrying to guide the pipe-stem to his foolish old mouth. 

 * * * * *

Now the case stands thus. Unthinkingly, I have laid myself open to thecharge of aiding and abetting the seal cutter in obtaining money underfalse pretenses, which is forbidden by Section 420 of the Indian PenalCode. I am helpless in the matter for these reasons, I cannot inform thepolice. What witnesses would support my statements? Janoo refuses flatly, and Azizun is a veiled woman somewhere near Bareilly--lost in this bigIndia of ours. I dare not again take the law into my own hands, and speakto the seal cutter; for certain am I that, not only would Suddhoodisbelieve me, but this step would end in the poisoning of Janoo, who isbound hand and foot by her debt to the _bunnia_. Suddhoo is an old dotard;and whenever we meet mumbles my idiotic joke that the _Sirkar_ ratherpatronizes the Black Art than otherwise. His son is well now; but Suddhoois completely under the influence of the seal cutter, by whose advice heregulates the affairs of his life. Janoo watches daily the money that shehoped to wheedle out of Suddhoo taken by the seal cutter, and becomesdaily more furious and sullen. 

She will never tell, because she dare not; but, unless something happensto prevent her, I am afraid that the seal cutter will die of cholera--thewhite arsenic kind--about the middle of May. And thus I shall have to beprivy to a murder in the house of Suddhoo. 

_His Wedded Wife_

 Cry "Murder!" in the market-place, and each Will turn upon his neighbor anxious eyes That ask:--"Art thou the man?" We hunted Cain Some centuries ago, across the world, That bred the fear our own misdeeds maintain To-day. 

 _--Vibart's Moralities. _

Shakespeare says something about worms, or it may be giants or beetles, turning if you tread on them too severely. The safest plan is never totread on a worm--not even on the last new subaltern from Home, with hisbuttons hardly out of their tissue paper, and the red of sappy Englishbeef in his cheeks. This is the story of the worm that turned. For thesake of brevity, we will call Henry Augustus Ramsay Faizanne, "The Worm, "although he really was an exceedingly pretty boy, without a hair on hisface, and with a waist like a girl's, when he came out to the Second"Shikarris" and was made unhappy in several ways. The "Shikarris" are ahigh-caste regiment, and you must be able to do things well--play a banjo, or ride more than little, or sing, or act--to get on with them. 

The Worm did nothing except fall off his pony, and knock chips out of gateposts with his trap. Even that became monotonous after a time. He objectedto whist, cut the cloth at billiards, sang out of tune, kept very much tohimself, and wrote to his Mamma and sisters at Home. Four of these fivethings were vices which the "Shikarris" objected to and set themselves toeradicate. Everyone knows how subalterns are, by brother subalterns, softened and not permitted to be ferocious. It is good and wholesome, anddoes no one any harm, unless tempers are lost; and then there is trouble. There was a man once--but that is another story. 

The "Shikarris" _shikarred_ The Worm very much, and he bore everythingwithout winking. He was so good and so anxious to learn, and flushed sopink, that his education was cut short, and he was left to his own devicesby everyone except the Senior Subaltern who continued to make life aburden to The Worm. The Senior Subaltern meant no harm; but his chaff wascoarse, and he didn't quite understand where to stop. He had been waitingtoo long for his Company; and that always sours a man. Also he was inlove, which made him worse. 

One day, after he had borrowed The Worm's trap for a lady who neverexisted, had used it himself all the afternoon, had sent a note to TheWorm, purporting to come from the lady, and was telling the Mess all aboutit, The Worm rose in his place and said, in his quiet, ladylikevoice:--"That was a very pretty sell; but I'll lay you a month's pay to amonth's pay when you get your step, that I work a sell on you that you'llremember for the rest of your days, and the Regiment after you when you'redead or broke. " The Worm wasn't angry in the least, and the rest of theMess shouted. Then the Senior Subaltern looked at The Worm from the bootsupward, and down again and said: "Done, Baby. " The Worm took the rest ofthe Mess to witness that the bet had been taken, and retired into a bookwith a sweet smile. 

Two months passed, and the Senior Subaltern still educated The Worm, whobegan to move about a little more as the hot weather came on. I have saidthat the Senior Subaltern was in love. The curious thing is that a girlwas in love with the Senior Subaltern. Though the Colonel said awfulthings, and the Majors snorted, and married Captains looked unutterablewisdom, and the juniors scoffed, those two were engaged. 

The Senior Subaltern was so pleased with getting his Company and hisacceptance at the same time that he forgot to bother The Worm. The girlwas a pretty girl, and had money of her own. She does not come into thisstory at all. 

One night, at beginning of the hot weather, all the Mess, except The Wormwho had gone to his own room to write Home letters, were sitting on theplatform outside the Mess House. The Band had finished playing, but no onewanted to go in. And the Captains' wives were there also. The folly of aman in love is unlimited. The Senior Subaltern had been holding forth onthe merits of the girl he was engaged to, and the ladies were purringapproval, while the men yawned, when there was a rustle of skirts in thedark, and a tired, faint voice lifted itself. 

"Where's my husband?"

I do not wish in the least to reflect on the morality of the "Shikarris";but it is on record that four men jumped up as if they had been shot. Three of them were married men. Perhaps they were afraid that their wiveshad come from Home unbeknownst. The fourth said that he had acted on theimpulse of the moment. He explained this afterwards. 

Then the voice cried: "Oh Lionel!" Lionel was the Senior Subaltern's name. A woman came into the little circle of light by the candles on the pegtables, stretching out her hands to the dark where the Senior Subalternwas, and sobbing. We rose to our feet, feeling that things were going tohappen and ready to believe the worst. In this bad, small world of ours, one knows so little of the life of the next man--which, after all, isentirely his own concern--that one is not surprised when a crash comes. Anything might turn up any day for anyone. Perhaps the Senior Subalternhad been trapped in his youth. Men are crippled that way occasionally. Wedidn't know; we wanted to hear; and the Captains' wives were as anxious aswe. If he _had_ been trapped, he was to be excused; for the woman fromnowhere, in the dusty shoes and gray traveling dress, was very lovely, with black hair and great eyes full of tears. She was tall, with a finefigure, and her voice had a running sob in it pitiful to hear. As soon asthe Senior Subaltern stood up, she threw her arms round his neck, andcalled him "my darling" and said she could not bear waiting alone inEngland, and his letters were so short and cold, and she was his to theend of the world, and would he forgive her? This did not sound quite likea lady's way of speaking. It was too demonstrative. 

Things seemed black indeed, and the Captains' wives peered under theireyebrows at the Senior Subaltern, and the Colonel's face set like the Dayof Judgment framed in gray bristles, and no one spoke for a while. 

Next the Colonel said, very shortly: "Well, sir?" and the woman sobbedafresh. The Senior Subaltern was half choked with the arms round his neck, but he gasped out: "It's a d----d lie! I never had a wife in my life!""Don't swear, " said the Colonel. "Come into the Mess. We must sift thisclear somehow, " and he sighed to himself, for he believed in his"Shikarris, " did the Colonel. 

We trooped into the anteroom, under the full lights, and there we saw howbeautiful the woman was. She stood up in the middle of us all, sometimeschoking with crying, then hard and proud, and then holding out her arms tothe Senior Subaltern. It was like the fourth act of a tragedy. She told ushow the Senior Subaltern had married her when he was Home on leaveeighteen months before; and she seemed to know all that we knew, and moretoo, of his people and his past life. He was white and ashy gray, tryingnow and again to break into the torrent of her words; and we, noting howlovely she was and what a criminal he looked, esteemed him a beast of theworst kind. We felt sorry for him, though. 

I shall never forget the indictment of the Senior Subaltern by his wife. Nor will he. It was so sudden, rushing out of the dark, unannounced, intoour dull lives. The Captains' wives stood back; but their eyes werealight, and you could see that they had already convicted and sentencedthe Senior Subaltern. The Colonel seemed five years older. One Major wasshading his eyes with his hand and watching the woman from underneath it. Another was chewing his mustache and smiling quietly as if he werewitnessing a play. Full in the open space in the center, by the whisttables, the Senior Subaltern's terrier was hunting for fleas. I rememberall this as clearly as though a photograph were in my hand. I remember thelook of horror on the Senior Subaltern's face. It was rather like seeing aman hanged; but much more interesting. Finally, the woman wound up bysaying that the Senior Subaltern carried a double F. M. In tattoo on hisleft shoulder. We all knew that, and to our innocent minds it seemed toclinch the matter. But one of the Bachelor Majors said very politely: "Ipresume that your marriage certificate would be more to the purpose?"

That roused the woman. She stood up and sneered at the Senior Subalternfor a cur, and abused the Major and the Colonel and all the rest. Then shewept, and then she pulled a paper from her breast, saying imperially:"Take that! And let my husband--my lawfully wedded husband--read italoud--if he dare!"

There was a hush, and the men looked into each other's eyes as the SeniorSubaltern came forward in a dazed and dizzy way, and took the paper. Wewere wondering, as we stared, whether there was anything against any oneof us that might turn up later on. The Senior Subaltern's throat was dry;but, as he ran his eye over the paper, he broke out into a hoarse cackleof relief, and said to the woman: "You young blackguard!"

But the woman had fled through a door, and on the paper was written: "Thisis to certify that I, The Worm, have paid in full my debts to the SeniorSubaltern, and, further, that the Senior Subaltern is my debtor, byagreement on the 23d of February, as by the Mess attested, to the extentof one month's Captain's pay, in the lawful currency of the India Empire. "

Then a deputation set off for The Worm's quarters and found him, betwixtand between, unlacing his stays, with the hat, wig, serge dress, etc. , onthe bed. He came over as he was, and the "Shikarris" shouted till theGunners' Mess sent over to know if they might have a share of the fun. Ithink we were all, except the Colonel and the Senior Subaltern, a littledisappointed that the scandal had come to nothing. But that is humannature. There could be no two words about The Worm's acting. It leaned asnear to a nasty tragedy as anything this side of a joke can. When most ofthe Subalterns sat upon him with sofa cushions to find out why he had notsaid that acting was his strong point, he answered very quietly: "I don'tthink you ever asked me. I used to act at Home with my sisters. " But noacting with girls could account for The Worm's display that night. Personally, I think it was in bad taste. Besides being dangerous. There isno sort of use in playing with fire, even for fun. 

The "Shikarris" made him President of the Regimental Dramatic Club; and, when the Senior Subaltern paid up his debt, which he did at once, The Wormsank the money in scenery and dresses. He was a good Worm; and the"Shikarris" are proud of him. The only drawback is that he has beenchristened "Mrs. Senior Subaltern"; and, as there are now two Mrs. SeniorSubalterns in the Station, this is sometimes confusing to strangers. 

Later on, I will tell you of a case something like this, but with all thejest left out and nothing in it but real trouble. 

A. Conan Doyle

_A Case of Identity_

"My dear fellow, " said Sherlock Holmes, as we sat on either side of thefire in his lodgings at Baker Street, "life is infinitely stranger thananything which the mind of man can invent. We would not dare to conceivethe things which are really mere commonplaces of existence. If we couldfly out of that window hand in hand, hover over this great city, gentlyremove the roofs, and peep in at the queer things which are going on, thestrange coincidences, the plannings, the cross-purposes, the wonderfulchains of events, working through generations, and leading to the most_outré_ results, it would make all fiction, with its conventionalities andforeseen conclusions, most stale and unprofitable. "

"And yet I am not convinced of it, " I answered. "The cases which come tolight in the papers are, as a rule, bald enough, and vulgar enough. Wehave in our police reports realism pushed to its extreme limits, and yetthe result is, it must be confessed, neither fascinating nor artistic. "

"A certain selection and discretion must be used in producing a realisticeffect, " remarked Holmes. "This is wanting in the police report, wheremore stress is laid perhaps upon the platitudes of the magistrate thanupon the details, which to an observer contain the vital essence of thewhole matter. Depend upon it, there is nothing so unnatural as thecommonplace. "

I smiled and shook my head. "I can quite understand your thinking so, " Isaid. "Of course, in your position of unofficial adviser and helper toeverybody who is absolutely puzzled, throughout three continents, you arebrought in contact with all that is strange and _bizarre_. But here"--Ipicked up the morning paper from the ground--"let us put it to a practicaltest. Here is the first heading upon which I come. 'A husband's cruelty tohis wife. ' There is half a column of print, but I know without reading itthat it is all perfectly familiar to me. There is, of course, the otherwoman, the drink, the push, the blow, the bruise, the unsympathetic sisteror landlady. The crudest of writers could invent nothing more crude. "

"Indeed your example is an unfortunate one for your argument, " saidHolmes, taking the paper, and glancing his eye down it. "This is theDundas separation case, and, as it happens, I was engaged in clearing upsome small points in connection with it. The husband was a teetotaler, there was no other woman, and the conduct complained of was that he haddrifted into the habit of winding up every meal by taking out his falseteeth and hurling them at his wife, which you will allow is not an actionlikely to occur to the imagination of the average story teller. Take apinch of snuff, doctor, and acknowledge that I have scored over you inyour example. "

He held out his snuffbox of old gold, with a great amethyst in the centerof the lid. Its splendor was in such contrast to his homely ways andsimple life that I could not help commenting upon it. 

"Ah!" said he, "I forgot that I had not seen you for some weeks. It is alittle souvenir from the King of Bohemia, in return for my assistance inthe case of the Irene Adler papers. "

"And the ring?" I asked, glancing at a remarkable brilliant which sparkledupon his finger. 

"It was from the reigning family of Holland, though the matter in which Iserved them was of such delicacy that I cannot confide it even to you, whohave been good enough to chronicle one or two of my little problems. "

"And have you any on hand just now?" I asked with interest. 

"Some ten or twelve, but none which present any features of interest. Theyare important, you understand, without being interesting. Indeed I havefound that it is usually in unimportant matters that there is a field forthe observation, and for the quick analysis of cause and effect whichgives the charm to an investigation. The larger crimes are apt to be thesimpler, for the bigger the crime, the more obvious, as a rule, is themotive. In these cases, save for one rather intricate matter which hasbeen referred to me from Marseilles, there is nothing which presents anyfeatures of interest. It is possible, however, that I may have somethingbetter before very many minutes are over, for this is one of my clients, or I am much mistaken. "

He had risen from his chair, and was standing between the parted blinds, gazing down into the dull, neutral-tinted London street. Looking over hisshoulder, I saw that on the pavement opposite there stood a large womanwith a heavy fur boa round her neck, and a large curling red feather in abroad-brimmed hat which was tilted in a coquettish Duchess-of-Devonshirefashion over her ear. 

From under this great panoply she peeped up in a nervous, hesitatingfashion at our windows, while her body oscillated backward and forward, and her fingers fidgeted with her glove buttons. Suddenly, with a plunge, as of the swimmer who leaves the bank, she hurried across the road, and weheard the sharp clang of the bell. 

"I have seen those symptoms before, " said Holmes, throwing his cigaretteinto the fire. "Oscillation upon the pavement always means an _affaire decoeur_. She would like advice, but is not sure that the matter is not toodelicate for communication. And yet even here we may discriminate. When awoman has been seriously wronged by a man, she no longer oscillates, andthe usual symptom is a broken bell wire. Here we may take it that there isa love matter, but that the maiden is not so much angry as perplexed orgrieved. But here she comes in person to resolve our doubts. "

As he spoke, there was a tap at the door, and the boy in buttons enteredto announce Miss Mary Sutherland, while the lady herself loomed behindhis small black figure like a full-sailed merchantman behind a tiny pilotboat. Sherlock Holmes welcomed her with the easy courtesy for which he wasremarkable, and having closed the door, and bowed her into an armchair, helooked her over in the minute and yet abstracted fashion which waspeculiar to him. 

"Do you not find, " he said, "that with your short sight it is a littletrying to do so much typewriting?"

"I did at first, " she answered, "but now I know where the letters arewithout looking. " Then, suddenly realizing the full purport of his words, she gave a violent start, and looked up with fear and astonishment uponher broad, good-humored face. "You've heard about me, Mr. Holmes, " shecried, "else how could you know all that?"

"Never mind, " said Holmes, laughing, "it is my business to know things. Perhaps I have trained myself to see what others overlook. If not, whyshould you come to consult me?"

"I came to you, sir, because I heard of you from Mrs. Etherege, whosehusband you found so easily when the police and everyone had given him upfor dead. Oh, Mr. Holmes, I wish you would do as much for me. I'm notrich, but still I have a hundred a year in my own right, besides thelittle that I make by the machine, and I would give it all to know whathas become of Mr. Hosmer Angel. "

"Why did you come away to consult me in such a hurry?" asked SherlockHolmes, with his finger tips together, and his eyes to the ceiling. 

Again a startled look came over the somewhat vacuous face of Miss MarySutherland. "Yes, I did bang out of the house, " she said, "for it made meangry to see the easy way in which Mr. Windibank--that is, my father--tookit all. He would not go to the police, and he would not go to you, and soat last, as he would do nothing, and kept on saying that there was no harmdone, it made me mad, and I just on with my things and came right away toyou. "

"Your father?" said Holmes. "Your stepfather, surely, since the name isdifferent. "

"Yes, my stepfather. I call him father, though it sounds funny, too, forhe is only five years and two months older than myself. "

"And your mother is alive?"

"Oh, yes; mother is alive and well. I wasn't best pleased, Mr. Holmes, when she married again so soon after father's death, and a man who wasnearly fifteen years younger than herself. Father was a plumber in theTottenham Court Road, and he left a tidy business behind him, which mothercarried on with Mr. Hardy, the foreman; but when Mr. Windibank came hemade her sell the business, for he was very superior, being a traveler inwines. They got four thousand seven hundred for the good-will andinterest, which wasn't near as much as father could have got if he hadbeen alive. "

I had expected to see Sherlock Holmes impatient under this rambling andinconsequential narrative, but, on the contrary, he had listened with thegreatest concentration of attention. 

"Your own little income, " he asked, "does it come out of the business?"

"Oh, no, sir. It is quite separate, and was left me by my Uncle Ned inAuckland. It is in New Zealand stock, paying four and half per cent. Twothousand five hundred pounds was the amount, but I can only touch theinterest. "

"You interest me extremely, " said Holmes. "And since you draw so large asum as a hundred a year, with what you earn into the bargain, you no doubttravel a little, and indulge yourself in every way. I believe that asingle lady can get on very nicely upon an income of about sixty pounds. "

"I could do with much less than that, Mr. Holmes, but you understand thatas long as I live at home I don't wish to be a burden to them, and so theyhave the use of the money just while I am staying with them. Of coursethat is only just for the time. Mr. Windibank draws my interest everyquarter, and pays it over to mother, and I find that I can do pretty wellwith what I earn at typewriting. It brings me twopence a sheet, and I canoften do from fifteen to twenty sheets in a day. "

"You have made your position very clear to me, " said Holmes. "This is myfriend, Doctor Watson, before whom you can speak as freely as beforemyself. Kindly tell us now all about your connection with Mr. HosmerAngel. "

A flush stole over Miss Sutherland's face, and she picked nervously at thefringe of her jacket. "I met him first at the gasfitters' ball, " she said. "They used to send father tickets when he was alive, and then afterwardsthey remembered us, and sent them to mother. Mr. Windibank did not wish usto go. He never did wish us to go anywhere. He would get quite mad if Iwanted so much as to join a Sunday School treat. But this time I was seton going, and I would go, for what right had he to prevent? He said thefolk were not fit for us to know, when all father's friends were to bethere. And he said that I had nothing fit to wear, when I had my purpleplush that I had never so much as taken out of the drawer. At last, whennothing else would do, he went off to France upon the business of thefirm; but we went, mother and I, with Mr. Hardy, who used to be ourforeman, and it was there I met Mr. Hosmer Angel. "

"I suppose, " said Holmes, "that when Mr. Windibank came back from France, he was very annoyed at your having gone to the ball?"

"Oh, well, he was very good about it. He laughed, I remember, and shruggedhis shoulders, and said there was no use denying anything to a woman, forshe would have her way. "

"I see. Then at the gasfitters' ball you met, as I understand, a gentlemancalled Mr. Hosmer Angel?"

"Yes, sir. I met him that night, and he called next day to ask if we hadgot home all safe, and after that we met him--that is to say, Mr. Holmes, I met him twice for walks, but after that father came back again, and Mr. Hosmer Angel could not come to the house any more. "

"No?"

"Well, you know, father didn't like anything of the sort. He wouldn't haveany visitors if he could help it, and he used to say that a woman shouldbe happy in her own family circle. But then, as I used to say to mother, awoman wants her own circle to begin with, and I had not got mine yet. "

"But how about Mr. Hosmer Angel? Did he make no attempt to see you?"

"Well, father was going off to France again in a week, and Hosmer wroteand said that it would be safer and better not to see each other until hehad gone. We could write in the meantime, and he used to write every day. I took the letters in the morning, so there was no need for father toknow. "

"Were you engaged to the gentleman at this time?"

"Oh, yes, Mr. Holmes. We were engaged after the first walk that we took. Hosmer--Mr. Angel--was a cashier in an office in Leadenhall Street--and--"

"What office?"

"That's the worst of it, Mr. Holmes; I don't know. "

"Where did he live, then?"

"He slept on the premises. "

"And you don't know his address?"

"No--except that it was Leadenhall Street. "

"Where did you address your letters, then?"

"To the Leadenhall Street Post Office, to be left till called for. He saidthat if they were sent to the office he would be chaffed by all the otherclerks about having letters from a lady, so I offered to typewrite them, like he did his, but he wouldn't have that, for he said that when I wrotethem they seemed to come from me, but when they were typewritten he alwaysfelt that the machine had come between us. That will just show you howfond he was of me, Mr. Holmes, and the little things that he would thinkof. "

"It was most suggestive, " said Holmes. "It has long been an axiom of minethat the little things are infinitely the most important. Can you rememberany other little things about Mr. Hosmer Angel?"

"He was a very shy man, Mr. Holmes. He would rather walk with me in theevening than in the daylight, for he said that he hated to be conspicuous. Very retiring and gentlemanly he was. Even his voice was gentle. He'd hadthe quinsy and swollen glands when he was young, he told me, and it hadleft him with a weak throat and a hesitating, whispering fashion ofspeech. He was always well dressed, very neat and plain, but his eyes wereweak, just as mine are, and he wore tinted glasses against the glare. "

"Well, and what happened when Mr. Windibank, your stepfather, returned toFrance?"

"Mr. Hosmer Angel came to the house again, and proposed that we shouldmarry before father came back. He was in dreadful earnest, and made meswear, with my hands on the Testament, that whatever happened I wouldalways be true to him. Mother said he was quite right to make me swear, and that it was a sign of his passion. Mother was all in his favor fromthe first, and was even fonder of him than I was. Then, when they talkedof marrying within the week, I began to ask about father; but they bothsaid never to mind about father, but just to tell him afterwards andmother said she would make it all right with him. I didn't quite likethat, Mr. Holmes. It seemed funny that I should ask his leave, as he wasonly a few years older than me; but I didn't want to do anything on thesly, so I wrote to father at Bordeaux, where the company has its Frenchoffices, but the letter came back to me on the very morning of thewedding. "

"It missed him, then?"

"Yes, sir, for he had started to England just before it arrived. "

"Ha! that was unfortunate. Your wedding was arranged, then, for theFriday. Was it to be in church?"

"Yes, sir, but very quietly. It was to be at St. Saviour's, near King'sCross, and we were to have breakfast afterwards at the St. Pancras Hotel. Hosmer came for us in a hansom, but as there were two of us, he put usboth into it, and stepped himself into a four-wheeler, which happened tobe the only other cab in the street. We got to the church first, and whenthe four-wheeler drove up we waited for him to step out, but he never did, and when the cabman got down from the box and looked, there was no onethere! The cabman said that he could not imagine what had become of him, for he had seen him get in with his own eyes. That was last Friday, Mr. Holmes, and I have never seen or heard anything since then to throw anylight upon what became of him. "

"It seems to me that you have been very shamefully treated, " said Holmes. 

"Oh, no, sir! He was too good and kind to leave me so. Why, all themorning he was saying to me that, whatever happened, I was to be true; andthat even if something quite unforeseen occurred to separate us, I wasalways to remember that I was pledged to him, and that he would claim hispledge sooner or later. It seemed strange talk for a wedding morning, butwhat has happened since gives a meaning to it. "

"Most certainly it does. Your own opinion is, then, that some unforeseencatastrophe has occurred to him?"

"Yes, sir. I believe that he foresaw some danger, or else he would nothave talked so. And then I think that what he foresaw happened. "

"But you have no notion as to what it could have been?"

"None. "

"One more question. How did your mother take the matter?"

"She was angry, and said that I was never to speak of the matter again. "

"And your father? Did you tell him?"

"Yes, and he seemed to think, with me, that something had happened, andthat I should hear of Hosmer again. As he said, what interest couldanyone have in bringing me to the door of the church, and then leaving me?Now, if he had borrowed my money, or if he had married me and got my moneysettled on him, there might be some reason; but Hosmer was veryindependent about money, and never would look at a shilling of mine. Andyet what could have happened? And why could he not write? Oh! it drives mehalf mad to think of, and I can't sleep a wink at night. " She pulled alittle handkerchief out of her muff, and began to sob heavily into it. 

"I shall glance into the case for you, " said Holmes, rising, "and I haveno doubt that we shall reach some definite result. Let the weight of thematter rest upon me now, and do not let your mind dwell upon it further. Above all, try to let Mr. Hosmer Angel vanish from your memory, as he hasdone from your life. "

"Then you don't think I'll see him again?"

"I fear not. "

"Then what has happened to him?"

"You will leave that question in my hands. I should like an accuratedescription of him, and any letters of his which you can spare. "

"I advertised for him in last Saturday's _Chronicle_, " said she. "Here isthe slip, and here are four letters from him. "

"Thank you. And your address?"

"No. 31 Lyon Place, Camberwell. "

"Mr. Angel's address you never had, I understand. Where is your father'splace of business?"

"He travels for Westhouse & Marbank, the great claret importers ofFenchurch Street. "

"Thank you. You have made your statement very clearly. You will leave thepapers here, and remember the advice which I have given you. Let the wholeincident be a sealed book, and do not allow it to affect your life. "

"You are very kind, Mr. Holmes, but I cannot do that. I shall be true toHosmer. He shall find me ready when he comes back. "

For all the preposterous hat and the vacuous face, there was somethingnoble in the simple faith of our visitor which compelled our respect. Shelaid her little bundle of papers upon the table, and went her way, with apromise to come again whenever she might be summoned. 

Sherlock Holmes sat silent for a few minutes with his finger tips stillpressed together, his legs stretched out in front of him, and his gazedirected upward to the ceiling. Then he took down from the rack the oldand oily clay pipe, which was to him as a counselor, and, having lightedit, he leaned back in his chair, with thick blue cloud wreaths spinning upfrom him, and a look of infinite languor in his face. 

"Quite an interesting study, that maiden, " he observed. "I found her moreinteresting than her little problem, which, by the way, is rather a triteone. You will find parallel cases, if you consult my index, in Andover in'77, and there was something of the sort at The Hague last year. Old as isthe idea, however, there were one or two details which were new to me. Butthe maiden herself was most instructive. "

"You appeared to read a good deal upon her which was quite invisible tome, " I remarked. 

"Not invisible, but unnoticed, Watson. You did not know where to look, andso you missed all that was important. I can never bring you to realize theimportance of sleeves, the suggestiveness of thumb nails, or the greatissues that may hang from a boot lace. Now, what did you gather from thatwoman's appearance? Describe it. "

"Well, she had a slate-colored, broad-brimmed straw hat, with a feather ofa brickish red. Her jacket was black, with black beads sewed upon it and afringe of little black jet ornaments. Her dress was brown, rather darkerthan coffee color, with a little purple plush at the neck and sleeves. Hergloves were grayish, and were worn through at the right forefinger. Herboots I didn't observe. She had small round, hanging gold earrings, and ageneral air of being fairly well-to-do, in a vulgar, comfortable, easy-going way. "

Sherlock Holmes clapped his hands softly together and chuckled. 

"'Pon my word, Watson, you are coming along wonderfully. You have reallydone very well indeed. It is true that you have missed everything ofimportance, but you have hit upon the method, and you have a quick eye forcolor. Never trust to general impressions, my boy, but concentrateyourself upon details. My first glance is always at a woman's sleeve. In aman it is perhaps better first to take the knee of the trouser. As youobserve, this woman had plush upon her sleeve, which is a most usefulmaterial for showing traces. The double line a little above the wrist, where the typewritist presses against the table, was beautifully defined. The sewing machine, of the hand type, leaves a similar mark, but only onthe left arm, and on the side of it farthest from the thumb, instead ofbeing right across the broadest part, as this was. I then glanced at herface, and observing the dint of a _pince-nez_ at either side of her nose, I ventured a remark upon short sight and typewriting, which seemed tosurprise her. "

"It surprised me. "

"But, surely, it was very obvious. I was then much surprised andinterested on glancing down to observe that, though the boots which shewas wearing were not unlike each other, they were really odd ones, the onehaving a slightly decorated toe cap and the other a plain one. One wasbuttoned only in the two lower buttons out of five, and the other at thefirst, third, and fifth. Now, when you see that a young lady, otherwiseneatly dressed, has come away from home with odd boots, half-buttoned, itis no great deduction to say that she came away in a hurry. "

"And what else?" I asked, keenly interested, as I always was, by myfriend's incisive reasoning. 

"I noted, in passing, that she had written a note before leaving home, butafter being fully dressed. You observed that her right glove was torn atthe forefinger, but you did not, apparently, see that both glove andfinger were stained with violet ink. She had written in a hurry, anddipped her pen too deep. It must have been this morning, or the mark wouldnot remain clear upon the finger. All this is amusing, though ratherelementary, but I must go back to business, Watson. Would you mind readingme the advertised description of Mr. Hosmer Angel?"

I held the little printed slip to the light. "Missing, " it said, "on themorning of the fourteenth, a gentleman named Hosmer Angel. About five feetseven inches in height; strongly built, sallow complexion, black hair, alittle bald in the center, bushy black side-whiskers and mustache; tintedglasses; slight infirmity of speech. Was dressed, when last seen, in blackfrock-coat faced with silk, black waistcoat, gold Albert chain, and grayHarris tweed trousers, with brown gaiters over elastic-sided boots. Knownto have been employed in an office in Leadenhall Street. Anybodybringing, " etc. , etc. 

"That will do, " said Holmes. "As to the letters, " he continued, glancingover them, "they are very commonplace. Absolutely no clew in them to Mr. Angel, save that he quotes Balzac once. There is one remarkable point, however, which will no doubt strike you. "

"They are typewritten, " I remarked. 

"Not only that, but the signature is typewritten. Look at the neat little'Hosmer Angel' at the bottom. There is a date, you see, but nosuperscription except Leadenhall Street, which is rather vague. The pointabout the signature is very suggestive--in fact, we may call itconclusive. "

"Of what?"

"My dear fellow, is it possible you do not see how strongly it bears uponthe case?"

"I cannot say that I do, unless it were that he wished to be able to denyhis signature if an action for breach of promise were instituted. "

"No, that was not the point. However, I shall write two letters whichshould settle the matter. One is to a firm in the City, the other is tothe young lady's stepfather, Mr. Windibank, asking him whether he couldmeet us here at six o'clock to-morrow evening. It is just as well that weshould do business with the male relatives. And now, doctor, we can donothing until the answers to those letters come, so we may put our littleproblem upon the shelf for the interim. "

I had had so many reasons to believe in my friend's subtle powers ofreasoning, and extraordinary energy in action, that I felt that he musthave some solid grounds for the assured and easy demeanor with which hetreated the singular mystery which he had been called upon to fathom. Onceonly had I known him to fail, in the case of the King of Bohemia and theIrene Adler photograph, but when I looked back to the weird business ofthe "Sign of the Four, " and the extraordinary circumstances connected withthe "Study in Scarlet, " I felt that it would be a strange tangle indeedwhich he could not unravel. 

I left him then, still puffing at his black clay pipe, with the convictionthat when I came again on the next evening I would find that he held inhis hands all the clews which would lead up to the identity of thedisappearing bridegroom of Miss Mary Sutherland. 

A professional case of great gravity was engaging my own attention at thetime, and the whole of next day I was busy at the bedside of the sufferer. It was not until close upon six o'clock that I found myself free, and wasable to spring into a hansom and drive to Baker Street, half afraid that Imight be too late to assist at the _dénouement_ of the little mystery. Ifound Sherlock Holmes alone, however, half asleep, with his long, thinform curled up in the recesses of his armchair. A formidable array ofbottles and test-tubes, with the pungent, cleanly smell of hydrochloricacid, told me that he had spent his day in the chemical work which was sodear to him. 

"Well, have you solved it?" I asked as I entered. 

"Yes. It was the bisulphate of baryta. "

"No, no; the mystery!" I cried. 

"Oh, that! I thought of the salt that I have been working upon. There wasnever any mystery in the matter, though, as I said yesterday, some of thedetails are of interest. The only drawback is that there is no law, Ifear, that can touch the scoundrel. "

"Who was he, then, and what was his object in deserting Miss Sutherland?"

The question was hardly out of my mouth, and Holmes had not yet opened hislips to reply, when we heard a heavy footfall in the passage, and a tap atthe door. 

"This is the girl's stepfather, Mr. James Windibank, " said Holmes. "He haswritten to me to say that he would be here at six. Come in!"

The man who entered was a sturdy, middle-sized fellow, some thirty yearsof age, clean shaven, and sallow-skinned, with a bland, insinuatingmanner, and a pair of wonderfully sharp and penetrating gray eyes. He shota questioning glance at each of us, placed his shiny top hat upon thesideboard, and, with a slight bow, sidled down into the nearest chair. 

"Good evening, Mr. James Windibank, " said Holmes. "I think thistypewritten letter is from you, in which you made an appointment with mefor six o'clock?"

"Yes, sir. I am afraid that I am a little late, but I am not quite my ownmaster, you know. I am sorry that Miss Sutherland has troubled you aboutthis little matter, for I think it is far better not to wash linen of thesort in public. It was quite against my wishes that she came, but she is avery excitable, impulsive girl, as you may have noticed, and she is noteasily controlled when she has made up her mind on a point. Of course, Idid not mind you so much, as you are not connected with the officialpolice, but it is not pleasant to have a family misfortune like thisnoised abroad. Besides, it is a useless expense, for how could youpossibly find this Hosmer Angel?"

"On the contrary, " said Holmes, quietly, "I have every reason to believethat I will succeed in discovering Mr. Hosmer Angel. "

Mr. Windibank gave a violent start, and dropped his gloves. "I amdelighted to hear it, " he said. 

"It is a curious thing, " remarked Holmes, "that a typewriter has reallyquite as much individuality as a man's handwriting. Unless they are quitenew no two of them write exactly alike. Some letters get more worn thanothers, and some wear only on one side. Now, you remark in this note ofyours, Mr. Windibank, that in every case there is some little slurringover the _e_, and a slight defect in the tail of the _r_. There arefourteen other characteristics, but those are the more obvious. "

"We do all our correspondence with this machine at the office, and nodoubt it is a little worn, " our visitor answered, glancing keenly atHolmes with his bright little eyes. 

"And now I will show you what is really a very interesting study, Mr. Windibank, " Holmes continued. "I think of writing another little monographsome of these days on the typewriter and its relation to crime. It is asubject to which I have devoted some little attention. I have here fourletters which purport to come from the missing man. They are alltypewritten. In each case, not only are the _e_'s slurred and the _r_'stailless, but you will observe, if you care to use my magnifying lens, that the fourteen other characteristics to which I have alluded are thereas well. "

Mr. Windibank sprung out of his chair, and picked up his hat. "I cannotwaste time over this sort of fantastic talk, Mr. Holmes, " he said. "If youcan catch the man, catch him, and let me know when you have done it. "

"Certainly, " said Holmes, stepping over and turning the key in the door. "I let you know, then, that I have caught him!"

"What! where?" shouted Mr. Windibank, turning white to his lips, andglancing about him like a rat in a trap. 

"Oh, it won't do--really it won't, " said Holmes, suavely. "There is nopossible getting out of it, Mr. Windibank. It is quite too transparent, and it was a very bad compliment when you said that it was impossible forme to solve so simple a question. That's right! Sit down, and let us talkit over. "

Our visitor collapsed into a chair, with a ghastly face, and a glitter ofmoisture on his brow. "It--it's not actionable, " he stammered. 

"I am very much afraid that it is not; but between ourselves, Windibank, it was as cruel, and selfish, and heartless a trick in a petty way as evercame before me. Now, let me just run over the course of events, and youwill contradict me if I go wrong. "

The man sat huddled up in his chair, with his head sunk upon his breast, like one who is utterly crushed. Holmes stuck his feet up on the corner ofthe mantelpiece, and, leaning back with his hands in his pockets, begantalking, rather to himself, as it seemed, than to us. 

"The man married a woman very much older than himself for her money, " saidhe, "and he enjoyed the use of the money of the daughter as long as shelived with them. It was a considerable sum, for people in their position, and the loss of it would have made a serious difference. It was worth aneffort to preserve it. The daughter was of a good, amiable disposition, but affectionate and warm-hearted in her ways, so that it was evident thatwith her fair personal advantages, and her little income, she would not beallowed to remain single long. Now her marriage would mean, of course, theloss of a hundred a year, so what does her stepfather do to prevent it? Hetakes the obvious course of keeping her at home, and forbidding her toseek the company of people of her own age. But soon he found that thatwould not answer forever. She became restive, insisted upon her rights, and finally announced her positive intention of going to a certain ball. What does her clever stepfather do then? He conceives an idea morecreditable to his head than to his heart. With the connivance andassistance of his wife, he disguised himself, covered those keen eyes withtinted glasses masked the face with a mustache and a pair of bushywhiskers, sunk that clear voice into an insinuating whisper, and doublysecure on account of the girl's short sight, he appears as Mr. HosmerAngel, and keeps off other lovers by making love himself. "

"It was only a joke at first, " groaned our visitor. "We never thought thatshe would have been so carried away. "

"Very likely not. However that may be, the young lady was very decidedlycarried away, and having quite made up her mind that her stepfather was inFrance, the suspicion of treachery never for an instant entered her mind. She was flattered by the gentleman's attentions, and the effect wasincreased by the loudly expressed admiration of her mother. Then Mr. Angelbegan to call, for it was obvious that the matter should be pushed as faras if would go, if a real effect were to be produced. There were meetings, and an engagement, which would finally secure the girl's affections fromturning toward anyone else. But the deception could not be kept upforever. These pretended journeys to France were rather cumbrous. Thething to do was clearly to bring the business to an end in such a dramaticmanner that it would leave a permanent impression upon the young lady'smind, and prevent her from looking upon any other suitor for some time tocome. Hence those vows of fidelity exacted upon a Testament, and hencealso the allusions to a possibility of something happening on the verymorning of the wedding. James Windibank wished Miss Sutherland to be sobound to Hosmer Angel, and so uncertain as to his fate, that for ten yearsto come, at any rate, she would not listen to another man. As far as thechurch door he brought her, and then, as he could go no farther, heconveniently vanished away by the old trick of stepping in at one door ofa four-wheeler and out at the other. I think that that was the chain ofevents, Mr. Windibank!"

Our visitor had recovered something of his assurance while Holmes had beentalking, and he rose from his chair now with a cold sneer upon his paleface. 

"It may be so, or it may not, Mr. Holmes, " said he; "but if you are sovery sharp you ought to be sharp enough to know that it is you who arebreaking the law now, and not me. I have done nothing actionable from thefirst, but as long as you keep that door locked you lay yourself open toan action for assault and illegal constraint. "

"The law cannot, as you say, touch you, " said Holmes, unlocking andthrowing open the door, "yet there never was a man who deserved punishmentmore. If the young lady has a brother or a friend, he ought to lay a whipacross your shoulders. By Jove!" he continued, flushing up at the sight ofthe bitter sneer upon the man's face, "it is not part of my duties to myclient, but here's a hunting crop handy, and I think I shall just treatmyself to--" He took two swift steps to the whip, but before he couldgrasp it there was a wild clatter of steps upon the stairs, the heavy halldoor banged, and from the window we could see Mr. James Windibank runningat the top of his speed down the road. 

"There's a cold-blooded scoundrel!" said Holmes, laughing as he threwhimself down into his chair once more. "That fellow will rise from crimeto crime until he does something very bad and ends on a gallows. The casehas, in some respects, been not entirely devoid of interest. "

"I cannot now entirely see all the steps of your reasoning, " I remarked. 

"Well, of course it was obvious from the first that this Mr. Hosmer Angelmust have some strong object for his curious conduct, and it was equallyclear that the only man who really profited by the incident, as far as wecould see, was the stepfather. Then the fact that the two men were nevertogether, but that the one always appeared when the other was away, wassuggestive. So were the tinted spectacles and the curious voice, whichboth hinted at a disguise, as did the bushy whiskers. My suspicions wereall confirmed by his peculiar action in typewriting his signature, which, of course, inferred that his handwriting was so familiar to her that shewould recognize even the smallest sample of it. You see all these isolatedfacts, together with many minor ones, all pointed in the same direction. "

"And how did you verify them?"

"Having once spotted my man, it was easy to get corroboration. I knew thefirm for which this man worked. Having taken the printed description, Ieliminated everything from it which could be the result of adisguise, --the whiskers, the glasses, the voice, --and I sent it to thefirm with a request that they would inform me whether it answered to thedescription of any of their travelers. I had already noticed thepeculiarities of the typewriter, and I wrote to the man himself at hisbusiness address, asking him if he would come here. As I expected, hisreply was typewritten, and revealed the same trivial but characteristicdefects. The same post brought me a letter from Westhouse & Marbank, ofFenchurch Street, to say that the description tallied in every respectwith that of their employee, James Windibank. _Voilà tout!_"

"And Miss Sutherland?"

"If I tell her she will not believe me. You may remember the old Persiansaying, 'There is danger for him who taketh the tiger cub, and danger alsofor whoso snatcheth a delusion from a woman. ' There is as much sense inHafiz as in Horace, and as much knowledge of the world. "

_A Scandal in Bohemia_

I

To Sherlock Holmes she is always _the_ woman. I have seldom heard himmention her under any other name. In his eyes she eclipses andpredominates the whole of her sex. It was not that he felt any emotionakin to love for Irene Adler. All emotions, and that one particularly, were abhorrent to his cold, precise but admirably balanced mind. He was, I take it, the most perfect reasoning and observing machine that the worldhas seen; but as a lover, he would have placed himself in a falseposition. He never spoke of the softer passions, save with a gibe and asneer. They were admirable things for the observer--excellent for drawingthe veil from men's motives and actions. But for the trained reasoner toadmit such intrusions into his own delicate and finely adjustedtemperament was to introduce a distracting factor which might throw adoubt upon all his mental results. Grit in a sensitive instrument, or acrack in one of his own high-power lenses, would not be more disturbingthat a strong emotion in a nature such as his. And yet there was but onewoman to him, and that woman was the late Irene Adler, of dubious andquestionable memory. 

I had seen little of Holmes lately. My marriage had drifted us away fromeach other. My own complete happiness, and the home-centered interestswhich rise up around the man who first finds himself master of his ownestablishment, were sufficient to absorb all my attention; while Holmes, who loathed every form of society with his whole Bohemian soul, remainedin our lodgings in Baker Street, buried among his old books, andalternating from week to week between cocaine and ambition, the drowsinessof the drug and the fierce energy of his own keen nature. He was still, asever, deeply attracted by the study of crime, and occupied his immensefaculties and extraordinary powers of observation in following out thoseclews, and clearing up those mysteries, which had been abandoned ashopeless by the official police. From time to time I heard some vagueaccount of his doings; of his summons to Odessa in the case of the Trepoffmurder, of his clearing up of the singular tragedy of the Atkinsonbrothers at Trincomalee, and finally of the mission which he hadaccomplished so delicately and successfully for the reigning family ofHolland. Beyond these signs of his activity, however, which I merelyshared with all the readers of the daily press, I knew little of my formerfriend and companion. 

One night--it was on the 20th of March, 1888--I was returning from ajourney to a patient (for I had now returned to civil practice), when myway led me through Baker Street. As I passed the well-remembered door, which must always be associated in my mind with my wooing, and with thedark incidents of the Study in Scarlet, I was seized with a keen desire tosee Holmes again, and to know how he was employing his extraordinarypowers. His rooms were brilliantly lighted, and even as I looked up, I sawhis tall, spare figure pass twice in a dark silhouette against the blind. He was pacing the room swiftly, eagerly, with his head sunk upon hischest, and his hands clasped behind him. To me, who knew his every moodand habit, his attitude and manner told their own story. He was at workagain. He had risen out of his drug-created dreams, and was hot upon thescent of some new problem. I rang the bell, and was shown up to thechamber which had formerly been in part my own. 

His manner was not effusive. It seldom was; but he was glad, I think, tosee me. With hardly a word spoken, but with a kindly eye, he waved me toan armchair, threw across his case of cigars, and indicated a spirit caseand a gasogene in the corner. Then he stood before the fire, and looked meover in his singular introspective fashion. 

"Wedlock suits you, " he remarked. "I think, Watson, that you have put onseven and a half pounds since I saw you. "

"Seven, " I answered. 

"Indeed, I should have thought a little more. Just a trifle more, I fancy, Watson. And in practice again, I observe. You did not tell me that youintended to go into harness. "

"Then how do you know?"

"I see it, I deduce it. How do I know that you have been getting yourselfvery wet lately, and that you have a most clumsy and careless servantgirl?"

"My dear Holmes, " said I, "this is too much. You would certainly have beenburned had you lived a few centuries ago. It is true that I had a countrywalk on Thursday and came home in a dreadful mess; but as I have changedmy clothes, I can't imagine how you deduce it. As to Mary Jane, she isincorrigible, and my wife has given her notice; but there again I fail tosee how you work it out. "

He chuckled to himself and rubbed his long nervous hands together. 

"It is simplicity itself, " said he, "my eyes tell me that on the inside ofyour left shoe, just where the firelight strikes it, the leather is scoredby six almost parallel cuts. Obviously they have been caused by some onewho has very carelessly scraped round the edges of the sole in order toremove crusted mud from it. Hence, you see, my double deduction that youhad been out in vile weather, and that you had a particularly malignantboot-slicking specimen of the London slavey. As to your practice, if agentleman walks into my rooms, smelling of iodoform, with a black mark ofnitrate of silver upon his right forefinger, and a bulge on the side ofhis top hat to show where he has secreted his stethoscope, I must be dullindeed if I do not pronounce him to be an active member of the medicalprofession. "

I could not help laughing at the ease with which he, explained his processof deduction. "When I hear you give your reasons, " I remarked, "the thingalways appears to me so ridiculously simple that I could easily do itmyself, though at each successive instance of your reasoning I am baffled, until you explain your process. And yet, I believe that my eyes are asgood as yours. "

"Quite so, " he answered, lighting a cigarette, and throwing himself downinto an armchair. "You see, but you do not observe. The distinction isclear. For example, you have frequently seen the steps which lead up fromthe hall to this room. "

"Frequently. "

"How often?"

"Well, some hundreds of times. "

"Then how many are there?"

"How many? I don't know. "

"Quite so! You have not observed. And yet you have seen. That is just mypoint. Now, I know there are seventeen steps, because I have both seen andobserved. By the way, since you are interested in these little problems, and since you are good enough to chronicle one or two of my triflingexperiences, you may be interested in this. " He threw over a sheet ofthick pink-tinted note paper which had been lying open upon the table. "Itcame by the last post, " said he. "Read it aloud. "

The note was undated, and without either signature or address. 

"There will call upon you to-night, at a quarter to eight o'clock, " itsaid, "a gentleman who desires to consult you upon a matter of the verydeepest moment. Your recent services to one of the royal houses of Europehave shown that you are one who may safely be trusted with matters whichare of an importance which can hardly be exaggerated. This account of youwe have from all quarters received. Be in your chamber, then, at thathour, and do not take it amiss if your visitor wears a mask. "

"This is indeed a mystery, " I remarked. "What do you imagine that itmeans?"

"I have no data yet. It is a capital mistake to theorize before one hasdata. Insensibly one begins to twist facts to suit theories, instead oftheories to suit facts. But the note itself--what do you deduce from it?"

I carefully examined the writing, and the paper upon which it was written. 

"The man who wrote it was presumably well to do, " I remarked, endeavoringto imitate my companion's processes. "Such paper could not be bought underhalf a crown a packet. It is peculiarly strong and stiff. "

"Peculiar--that is the very word, " said Holmes. "It is not an Englishpaper at all. Hold it up to the light"

I did so, and saw a large _E_ with a small _g_, a _P_ and a large _G_ witha small _t_ woven into the texture of the paper. 

"What do you make of that?" asked Holmes. 

"The name of the maker, no doubt; or his monogram, rather. "

"Not all. The _G_ with the small _t_ stands for 'Gesellschaft, ' which isthe German for 'Company. ' It is a customary contraction like our 'Co. '_P_, of course, stands for 'Papier. ' Now for the _Eg_. Let us glance atour 'Continental Gazetteer'. " He took down a heavy brown volume from hisshelves. "Eglow, Eglonitz--here we are, Egria. It is in a German-speakingcountry--in Bohemia, not far from Carlsbad. 'Remarkable as being the sceneof the death of Wallenstein, and for its numerous glass factories andpaper mills. ' Ha! ha! my boy, what do you make of that?" His eyessparkled, and he sent up a great blue triumphant cloud from his cigarette. 

"The paper was made in Bohemia, " I said. 

"Precisely. And the man who wrote the note is a German. Do you note thepeculiar construction of the sentence--'This account of you we have fromall quarters received'? A Frenchman or Russian could not have writtenthat. It is the German who is so uncourteous to his verbs. It onlyremains, therefore, to discover what is wanted by this German who writesupon Bohemian paper, and prefers wearing a mask to showing his face. Andhere he comes, if I am not mistaken, to resolve all our doubts. "

As he spoke there was the sharp sound of horses' hoofs and grating wheelsagainst the curb, followed by a sharp pull at the bell. Holmes whistled. 

"A pair, by the sound, " said he. "Yes, " he continued, glancing out of thewindow. "A nice little brougham and a pair of beauties. A hundred andfifty guineas apiece. There's money in this case, Watson, if there isnothing else. "

"I think I had better go, Holmes. "

"Not a bit, doctor. Stay where you are. I am lost without my Boswell. Andthis promises to be interesting. It would be a pity to miss it. "

"But your client--"

"Never mind him. I may want your help, and so may he. Here he comes. Sitdown in that armchair, doctor, and give us your best attention. "

A slow and heavy step, which had been heard upon the stairs and in thepassage, paused immediately outside the door. Then there was a loud andauthoritative tap. 

"Come in!" said Holmes. 

A man entered who could hardly have been less than six feet six inches inheight, with the chest and limbs of a Hercules. His dress was rich with arichness which would, in England, be looked upon as akin to bad taste. Heavy bands of astrakhan were slashed across the sleeves and front of hisdouble-breasted coat, while the deep blue cloak which was thrown over hisshoulders was lined with flame-colored silk, and secured at the neck witha brooch which consisted of a single flaming beryl. Boots which extendedhalfway up his calves, and which were trimmed at the tops with rich brownfur, completed the impression of barbaric opulence which was suggested byhis whole appearance. He carried a broad-brimmed hat in his hand, while hewore across the upper part of his face, extending down past thecheek-bones, a black visard mask, which he had apparently adjusted thatvery moment, for his hand was still raised to it as he entered. From thelower part of the face he appeared to be a man of strong character, with athick, hanging lip, and a long, straight chin, suggestive of resolutionpushed to the length of obstinacy. 

"You had my note?" he asked, with a deep, harsh voice and a stronglymarked German accent. "I told you that I would call. " He looked from oneto the other of us, as if uncertain which to address. 

"Pray take a seat, " said Holmes. "This is my friend and colleague, DoctorWatson, who is occasionally good enough to help me in my cases. Whom haveI the honor to address?"

"You may address me as the Count von Kramm, a Bohemian nobleman. Iunderstand that this gentleman, your friend, is a man of honor anddiscretion, whom I may trust with a matter of the most extremeimportance. If not, I should much prefer to communicate with you alone. "

I rose to go, but Holmes caught me by the wrist and pushed me back into mychair. "It is both, or none, " said he. "You may say before this gentlemananything which you may say to me. "

The count shrugged his broad shoulders. "Then I must begin, " said he, "bybinding you both to absolute secrecy for two years; at the end of thattime the matter will be of no importance. At present it is not too much tosay that it is of such weight that it may have an influence upon Europeanhistory. "

"I promise, " said Holmes. 

"And I. "

"You will excuse this mask, " continued our strange visitor. "The augustperson who employs me wishes his agent to be unknown to you, and I mayconfess at once that the title by which I have just called myself is notexactly my own. "

"I was aware of it, " said Holmes, dryly. 

"The circumstances are of great delicacy, and every precaution has to betaken to quench what might grow to be an immense scandal, and seriouslycompromise one of the reigning families of Europe. To speak plainly, thematter implicates the great House of Ormstein, hereditary kings ofBohemia. "

"I was also aware of that, " murmured Holmes, settling himself down in hisarmchair, and closing his eyes. 

Our visitor glanced with some apparent surprise at the languid, loungingfigure of the man who had been, no doubt, depicted to him as the mostincisive reasoner and most energetic agent in Europe. Holmes slowlyreopened his eyes and looked impatiently at his gigantic client. 

"If your majesty would condescend to state your case, " he remarked, "Ishould be better able to advise you. "

The man sprung from his chair, and paced up and down the room inuncontrollable agitation. Then, with a gesture of desperation, he torethe mask from his face and hurled it upon the ground. 

"You are right, " he cried, "I am the king. Why should I attempt to concealit?"

"Why, indeed?" murmured Holmes. "Your majesty had not spoken before I wasaware that I was addressing Wilhelm Gottsreich Sigismond von Ormstein, Grand Duke of Cassel-Felstein, and hereditary King of Bohemia. "

"But you can understand, " said our strange visitor, sitting down once moreand passing his hand over his high, white forehead, "you can understandthat I am not accustomed to doing such business in my own person. Yet thematter was so delicate that I could not confide it to an agent withoutputting myself in his power. I have come incognito from Prague for thepurpose of consulting you. "

"Then, pray consult, " said Holmes, shutting his eyes once more. 

"The facts are briefly these: Some five years ago, during a lengthy visitto Warsaw, I made the acquaintance of the well-known adventuress IreneAdler. The name is no doubt familiar to you. "

"Kindly look her up in my index, doctor, " murmured Holmes, without openinghis eyes. For many years he had adopted a system for docketing allparagraphs concerning men and things, so that it was difficult to name asubject or a person on which he could not at once furnish information. Inthis case I found her biography sandwiched in between that of a Hebrewrabbi and that of a staff commander who had written a monograph upon thedeep-sea fishes. 

"Let me see!" said Holmes. "Hum! Born in New Jersey in the year 1858. Contralto--hum! La Scala--hum! Prima donna Imperial Opera of Warsaw--yes!Retired from operatic stage--ha! Living in London--quite so! Your majesty, as I understand, became entangled with this young person, wrote her somecompromising letters, and is now desirous of getting those letters back. "

"Precisely so. But how--"

"Was there a secret marriage?"

"None. "

"No legal papers or certificates?"

"None. "

"Then I fail to follow your majesty. If this young person should produceher letters for blackmailing or other purposes, how is she to prove theirauthenticity?"

"There is the writing. "

"Pooh-pooh! Forgery. "

"My private note paper. "

"Stolen. "

"My own seal. "

"Imitated. "

"My photograph. "

"Bought. "

"We were both in the photograph. "

"Oh, dear! That is very bad. Your majesty has indeed committed anindiscretion. "

"I was mad--insane. "

"You have compromised yourself seriously. "

"I was only crown prince then. I was young. I am but thirty now. "

"It must be recovered. "

"We have tried and failed. "

"Your majesty must pay. It must be bought. "

"She will not sell. "

"Stolen, then. "

"Five attempts have been made. Twice burglars in my pay ransacked herhouse. Once we diverted her luggage when she traveled. Twice she has beenwaylaid. There has been no result. "

"No sign of it?"

"Absolutely none. "

Holmes laughed. "It is quite a pretty little problem, " said he. 

"But a very serious one to me, " returned the king, reproachfully. 

"Very, indeed. And what does she propose to do with the photograph?"

"To ruin me. "

"But how?"

"I am about to be married. "

"So I have heard. "

"To Clotilde Lothman von Saxe-Meiningen, second daughter of the King ofScandinavia. You may know the strict principles of her family. She isherself the very soul of delicacy. A shadow of a doubt as to my conductwould bring the matter to an end. "

"And Irene Adler?"

"Threatens to send them the photograph. And she will do it. I know thatshe will do it. You do not know her, but she has a soul of steel. She hasthe face of the most beautiful of women and the mind of the most resoluteof men. Rather than I should marry another woman, there are no lengths towhich she would not go--none. "

"You are sure she has not sent it yet?"

"I am sure. "

"And why?"

"Because she has said that she would send it on the day when the betrothalwas publicly proclaimed. That will be next Monday. "

"Oh, then we have three days yet, " said Holmes, with a yawn. "That is veryfortunate, as I have one or two matters of importance to look into just atpresent. Your majesty will, of course, stay in London for the present?"

"Certainly. You will find me at the Langham, under the name of the Countvon Kramm. "

"Then I shall drop you a line to let you know how we progress. "

"Pray do so; I shall be all anxiety. "

"Then, as to money?"

"You have _carte blanche_. "

"Absolutely?"

"I tell you that I would give one of the provinces of my kingdom to havethat photograph. "

"And for present expenses?"

The king took a heavy chamois-leather bag from under his cloak, and laidit on the table. 

"There are three hundred pounds in gold, and seven hundred in notes, " hesaid. 

Holmes scribbled a receipt upon a sheet of his notebook, and handed it tohim. 

"And mademoiselle's address?" he asked. 

"Is Briony Lodge, Serpentine Avenue, St. John's Wood. "

Holmes took a note of it. "One other question, " said he, thoughtfully. "Was the photograph a cabinet?"

"It was. "

"Then, good-night, your majesty, and I trust that we shall soon have somegood news for you. And good-night, Watson, " he added, as the wheels of theroyal brougham rolled down the street. "If you will be good enough to callto-morrow afternoon, at three o'clock, I should like to chat this littlematter over with you. "

II

At three o'clock precisely I was at Baker Street, but Holmes had not yetreturned. The landlady informed me that he had left the house shortlyafter eight o'clock in the morning. I sat down beside the fire, however, with the intention of awaiting him, however long he might be. I wasalready deeply interested in his inquiry, for, though it was surrounded bynone of the grim and strange features which were associated with the twocrimes which I have already recorded, still, the nature of the case andthe exalted station of his client gave it a character of its own. Indeed, apart from the nature of the investigation which my friend had on hand, there was something in his masterly grasp of a situation, and his keen, incisive reasoning, which made it a pleasure to me to study his system ofwork, and to follow the quick, subtle methods by which he disentangled themost inextricable mysteries. So accustomed was I to his invariablesuccess that the very possibility of his failing had ceased to enter intomy head. 

It was close upon four before the door opened, and a drunken-lookinggroom, ill-kempt and side-whiskered, with an inflamed face anddisreputable clothes, walked into the room. Accustomed as I was to myfriend's amazing powers in the use of disguises, I had to look three timesbefore I was certain that it was indeed he. With a nod he vanished intothe bedroom, whence he emerged in five minutes tweed-suited andrespectable, as of old. Putting his hands into his pockets, he stretchedout his legs in front of the fire, and laughed heartily for some minutes. 

"Well, really!" he cried, and then he choked, and laughed again until hewas obliged to lie back, limp and helpless, in the chair. 

"What is it?"

"It's quite too funny. I am sure you could never guess how I employed mymorning, or what I ended by doing. "

"I can't imagine. I suppose that you have been watching the habits, and, perhaps, the house, of Miss Irene Adler. "

"Quite so, but the sequel was rather unusual. I will tell you, however. Ileft the house a little after eight o'clock this morning in the characterof a groom out of work. There is a wonderful sympathy and freemasonryamong horsey men. Be one of them, and you will know all that there is toknow. I soon found Briony Lodge. It is a bijou villa, with a garden at theback, but built out in the front right up to the road, two stories. Chubblock to the door. Large sitting room on the right side, well furnished, with long windows almost to the floor, and those preposterous Englishwindow fasteners which a child could open. Behind there was nothingremarkable, save that the passage window could be reached from the top ofthe coach-house. I walked round it and examined it closely from everypoint of view, but without noting anything else of interest. 

"I then lounged down the street, and found, as I expected, that there wasa mews in a lane which runs down by one wall of the garden. I lent thehostlers a hand in rubbing down their horses, and I received in exchangetwopence, a glass of half and half, two fills of shag tobacco, and as muchinformation as I could desire about Miss Adler, to say nothing of half adozen other people in the neighborhood, in whom I was not in the leastinterested, but whose biographies I was compelled to listen to. "

"And what of Irene Adler?" I asked. 

"Oh, she has turned all the men's heads down in that part. She is thedaintiest thing under a bonnet on this planet. So say the Serpentine Mews, to a man. She lives quietly, sings at concerts, drives out at five everyday, and returns at seven sharp for dinner. Seldom goes out at othertimes, except when she sings. Has only one male visitor, but a good dealof him. He is dark, handsome, and dashing; never calls less than once aday, and often twice. He is a Mr. Godfrey Norton of the Inner Temple. Seethe advantages of a cabman as a confidant. They had driven him home adozen times from Serpentine Mews, and knew all about him. When I hadlistened to all that they had to tell, I began to walk up and down nearBriony Lodge once more, and to think over my plan of campaign. 

"This Godfrey Norton was evidently an important factor in the matter. Hewas a lawyer. That sounded ominous. What was the relation between them, and what the object of his repeated visits? Was she his client, hisfriend, or his mistress? If the former, she had probably transferred thephotograph to his keeping. If the latter, it was less likely. On the issueof this question depended whether I should continue my work at BrionyLodge, or turn my attention to the gentleman's chambers in the Temple. Itwas a delicate point, and it widened the field of my inquiry. I fear thatI bore you with these details, but I have to let you see my littledifficulties, if you are to understand the situation. "

"I am following you closely, " I answered. 

"I was still balancing the matter in my mind, when a hansom cab drove upto Briony Lodge, and a gentleman sprung out. He was a remarkably handsomeman, dark, aquiline, and mustached--evidently the man of whom I had heard. He appeared to be in a great hurry, shouted to the cabman to wait, andbrushed past the maid who opened the door, with the air of a man who wasthoroughly at home. 

"He was in the house about half an hour, and I could catch glimpses of himin the windows of the sitting room, pacing up and down, talking excitedlyand waving his arms. Of her I could see nothing. Presently he emerged, looking even more flurried than before. As he stepped up to the cab, hepulled a gold watch from his pocket and looked at it earnestly. 'Drivelike the devil!' he shouted, 'first to Gross & Hankey's in Regent Street, and then to the Church of St. Monica in the Edgeware Road. Half a guineaif you do it in twenty minutes!'

"Away they went, and I was just wondering whether I should not do well tofollow them, when up the lane came a neat little landau, the coachman withhis coat only half buttoned, and his tie under his ear, while all the tagsof his harness were sticking out of the buckles. It hadn't pulled upbefore she shot out of the hall door and into it. I only caught a glimpseof her at the moment, but she was a lovely woman, with a face that a manmight die for. 

"'The Church of St. Monica, John, ' she cried; 'and half a sovereign if youreach it in twenty minutes. '

"This was quite too good to lose, Watson. I was just balancing whether Ishould run for it, or whether I should perch behind her landau, when a cabcame through the street. The driver looked twice at such a shabby fare;but I jumped in before he could object. 'The Church of St. Monica, ' saidI, 'and half a sovereign if you reach it in twenty minutes. ' It wastwenty-five minutes to twelve, and of course it was clear enough what wasin the wind. 

"My cabby drove fast. I don't think I ever drove faster, but the otherswere there before us. The cab and landau with their steaming horses werein front of the door when I arrived. I paid the man, and hurried into thechurch. There was not a soul there save the two whom I had followed, anda surpliced clergyman, who seemed to be expostulating with them. They wereall three standing in a knot in front of the altar. I lounged up the sideaisle like any other idler who has dropped into a church. Suddenly, to mysurprise, the three at the altar faced round to me, and Godfrey Nortoncame running as hard as he could toward me. 

"'Thank God!' he cried. 'You'll do. Come! Come!'

"'What then?' I asked. 

"'Come, man, come; only three minutes, or it won't be legal. '

"I was half dragged up to the altar, and, before I knew where I was, Ifound myself mumbling responses which were whispered in my ear, andvouching for things of which I knew nothing, and generally assisting inthe secure tying up of Irene Adler, spinster, to Godfrey Norton, bachelor. It was all done in an instant, and there was the gentleman thanking me onthe one side and the lady on the other, while the clergyman beamed on mein front. It was the most preposterous position in which I ever foundmyself in my life, and it was the thought of it that started me laughingjust now. It seems that there had been some informality about theirlicense; that the clergyman absolutely refused to marry them without awitness of some sort, and that my lucky appearance saved the bridegroomfrom having to sally out into the streets in search of a best man. Thebride gave me a sovereign, and I mean to wear it on my watch chain inmemory of the occasion. "

"This is a very unexpected turn of affairs, " said I; "and what then?"

"Well, I found my plans very seriously menaced. It looked as if the pairmight take an immediate departure, and so necessitate very prompt andenergetic measures on my part. At the church door, however, theyseparated, he driving back to the Temple, and she to her own house. 'Ishall drive out in the park at five as usual, ' she said, as she left him. I heard no more. They drove away in different directions, and I went offto make my own arrangements. "

"Which are?"

"Some cold beef and a glass of beer, " he answered, ringing the bell. "Ihave been too busy to think of food, and I am likely to be busier stillthis evening. By the way, doctor, I shall want your cooperation. "

"I shall be delighted. "

"You don't mind breaking the law?"

"Not in the least. "

"Nor running a chance of arrest?"

"Not in a good cause. "

"Oh, the cause is excellent!"

"Then I am your man. "

"I was sure that I might rely on you. "

"But what is it you wish?"

"When Mrs. Turner has brought in the tray I will make it clear to you. Now, " he said, as he turned hungrily on the simple fare that our landladyhad provided, "I must discuss it while I eat, for I have not much time. Itis nearly five now. In two hours we must be on the scene of action. MissIrene, or Madame, rather, returns from her drive at seven. We must be atBriony Lodge to meet her. "

"And what then?"

"You must leave that to me. I have already arranged what is to occur. There is only one point on which I must insist. You must not interfere, come what may. You understand?"

"I am to be neutral?"

"To do nothing whatever. There will probably be some small unpleasantness. Do not join in it. It will end in my being conveyed into the house. Fouror five minutes afterwards the sitting-room window will open. You are tostation yourself close to that open window. "

"Yes. "

"You are to watch me, for I will be visible to you. "

"Yes. "

"And when I raise my hand--so--you will throw into the room what I giveyou to throw, and will, at the same time, raise the cry of fire. You quitefollow me?"

"Entirely. "

"It is nothing very formidable, " he said, taking a long, cigar-shaped rollfrom his pocket. "It is an ordinary plumber's smoke-rocket, fitted with acap at either end, to make it self-lighting. Your task is confined tothat. When you raise your cry of fire, it will be taken up by quite anumber of people. You may then walk to the end of the street, and I willrejoin you in ten minutes. I hope that I have made myself clear?"

"I am to remain neutral, to get near the window, to watch you, and, at thesignal, to throw in this object, then to raise the cry of fire and to waityou at the corner of the street. "

"Precisely. "

"Then you may entirely rely on me. "

"That is excellent. I think, perhaps, it is almost time that I preparedfor the new role I have to play. "

He disappeared into his bedroom, and returned in a few minutes in thecharacter of an amiable and simple-minded Nonconformist clergyman. Hisbroad, black hat, his baggy trousers, his white tie, his sympatheticsmile, and general look of peering and benevolent curiosity were such asMr. John Hare alone could have equaled. It was not merely that Holmeschanged his costume. His expression, his manner, his very soul seemed tovary with every fresh part that he assumed. The stage lost a fine actor, even as science lost an acute reasoner, when he became a specialist incrime. 

It was a quarter past six when we left Baker Street, and it still wantedten minutes to the hour when we found ourselves in Serpentine Avenue. Itwas already dusk, and the lamps were just being lighted as we paced up anddown in front of Briony Lodge, waiting for the coming of its occupant. Thehouse was just such as I had pictured it from Sherlock Holmes's succinctdescription, but the locality appeared to be less private than I expected. On the contrary, for a small street in a quiet neighborhood, it wasremarkably animated. There was a group of shabbily dressed men smoking andlaughing in a corner, a scissors grinder with his wheel, two guardsmen whowere flirting with a nurse girl, and several well-dressed young men whowere lounging up and down with cigars in their mouths. 

"You see, " remarked Holmes, as we paced to and fro in front of the house, "this marriage rather simplifies matters. The photograph becomes adouble-edged weapon now. The chances are that she would be as averse toits being seen by Mr. Godfrey Norton as our client is to its coming to theeyes of his princess. Now the question is--where are we to find thephotograph?"

"Where, indeed?"

"It is most unlikely that she carries it about with her. It is cabinetsize. Too large for easy concealment about a woman's dress. She knows thatthe king is capable of having her waylaid and searched. Two attempts ofthe sort have already been made. We may take it, then, that she does notcarry it about with her. "

"Where, then?"

"Her banker or her lawyer. There is that double possibility. But I aminclined to think neither. Women are naturally secretive, and they like todo their own secreting. Why should she hand it over to anyone else? Shecould trust her own guardianship, but she could not tell what indirect orpolitical influence might be brought to bear upon a business man. Besides, remember that she had resolved to use it within a few days. It must bewhere she can lay her hands upon it. It must be in her own house. "

"But it has twice been burglarized. "

"Pshaw! They did not know how to look. "

"But how will you look?"

"I will not look. "

"What then?"

"I will get her to show me. "

"But she will refuse. "

"She will not be able to. But I hear the rumble of wheels. It is hercarriage. Now carry out my orders to the letter. "

As he spoke, the gleam of the sidelights of a carriage came round thecurve of the avenue. It was a smart little landau which rattled up to thedoor of Briony Lodge. As it pulled up one of the loafing men at the cornerdashed forward to open the door in the hope of earning a copper, but waselbowed away by another loafer who had rushed up with the same intention. A fierce quarrel broke out which was increased by the two guardsmen, whotook sides with one of the loungers, and by the scissors grinder, who wasequally hot upon the other side. A blow was struck, and in an instant thelady, who had stepped from her carriage, was the center of a little knotof struggling men who struck savagely at each other with their fists andsticks. Holmes dashed into the crowd to protect the lady; but, just as hereached her, he gave a cry and dropped to the ground, with the bloodrunning freely down his face. At his fall the guardsmen took to theirheels in one direction and the loungers in the other, while a number ofbetter-dressed people who had watched the scuffle without taking part init crowded in to help the lady and to attend to the injured man. IreneAdler, as I will still call her, had hurried up the steps; but she stoodat the top, with her superb figure outlined against the lights of thehall, looking back into the street. 

"Is the poor gentleman much hurt?" she asked. 

"He is dead, " cried several voices. 

"No, no, there's life in him, " shouted another. "But he'll be gone beforeyou can get him to the hospital. "

"He's a brave fellow, " said a woman. "They would have had the lady's purseand watch if it hadn't been for him. They were a gang, and a rough one, too. Ah! he's breathing now. "

"He can't lie in the street. May we bring him in, marm?"

"Surely. Bring him into the sitting room. There is a comfortable sofa. This way, please. " Slowly and solemnly he was borne into Briony Lodge, andlaid out in the principal room, while I still observed the proceedingsfrom my post by the window. The lamps had been lighted, but the blinds hadnot been drawn, so that I could see Holmes as he lay upon the couch. I donot know whether he was seized with compunction at that moment for thepart he was playing, but I know that I never felt more heartily ashamed ofmyself in my life than when I saw the beautiful creature against whom Iwas conspiring, or the grace and kindliness with which she waited upon theinjured man. And yet it would be the blackest treachery to Holmes to drawback now from the part which he had intrusted to me. I hardened my heart, and took the smoke-rocket from under my ulster. After all, I thought, weare not injuring her. We are but preventing her from injuring another. 

Holmes had sat upon the couch, and I saw him motion like a man who is inneed of air. A maid rushed across and threw open the window. At the sameinstant I saw him raise his hand, and at the signal I tossed my rocketinto the room with a cry of "Fire!" The word was no sooner out of my mouththan the whole crowd of spectators, well dressed and ill--gentlemen, hostlers, and servant maids--joined in a general shriek of "Fire!" Thickclouds of smoke curled through the room, and out at the open window. Icaught a glimpse of rushing figures, and a moment later the voice ofHolmes from within assuring them that it was a false alarm. Slippingthrough the shouting crowd, I made my way to the corner of the street, andin ten minutes was rejoiced to find my friend's arm in mine, and to getaway from the scene of uproar. He walked swiftly and in silence for somefew minutes, until we had turned down one of the quiet streets which ledtoward the Edgeware Road. 

"You did it very nicely, doctor, " he remarked. "Nothing could have beenbetter. It is all right. "

"You have the photograph?"

"I know where it is. "

"And how did you find out?"

"She showed me, as I told you that she would. "

"I am still in the dark. "

"I do not wish to make a mystery, " said he, laughing. "The matter wasperfectly simple. You, of course, saw that everyone in the street was anaccomplice. They were all engaged for the evening. "

"I guessed as much. "

"Then, when the row broke out, I had a little moist red paint in the palmof my hand. I rushed forward, fell down, clapped my hand to my face, andbecame a piteous spectacle. It is an old trick. "

"That also I could fathom. "

"Then they carried me in. She was bound to have me in. What else could shedo? And into her sitting room, which was the very room which I suspected. It lay between that and her bedroom, and I was determined to see which. They laid me on a couch, I motioned for air, they were compelled to openthe window, and you had your chance. "

"How did that help you?"

"It was all-important. When a woman thinks that her house is on fire, herinstinct is at once to rush to the thing which she values most. It is aperfectly overpowering impulse, and I have more than once taken advantageof it. In the case of the Darlington Substitution Scandal it was of use tome, and also in the Arnsworth Castle business. A married woman grabs ather baby--an unmarried one reaches for her jewel box. Now it was clear tome that our lady of to-day had nothing in the house more precious to herthan what we are in quest of. She would rush to secure it. The alarm offire was admirably done. The smoke and shouting were enough to shakenerves of steel. She responded beautifully. The photograph is in a recessbehind a sliding panel just above the right bell-pull. She was there in aninstant, and I caught a glimpse of it as she drew it out. When I cried outthat it was a false alarm, she replaced it, glanced at the rocket, rushedfrom the room, and I have not seen her since. I rose, and, making myexcuses, escaped from the house. I hesitated whether to attempt to securethe photograph at once; but the coachman had come in, and as he waswatching me narrowly, it seemed safer to wait. A little over-precipitancemay ruin all. "

"And now?" I asked. 

"Our quest is practically finished. I shall call with the king to-morrow, and with you, if you care to come with us. We will be shown into thesitting room to wait for the lady, but it is probable that when she comesshe may find neither us nor the photograph. It might be a satisfaction tohis majesty to regain it with his own hands. "

"And when will you call?"

"At eight in the morning. She will not be up, so that we shall have aclear field. Besides, we must be prompt, for this marriage may mean acomplete change in her life and habits. I must wire to the king withoutdelay. "

We had reached Baker Street, and had stopped at the door. He was searchinghis pockets for the key, when some one passing said:

"Good night, Mister Sherlock Holmes. "

There were several people on the pavement at the time, but the greetingappeared to come from a slim youth in an ulster who had hurried by. 

"I've heard that voice before, " said Holmes, staring down the dimlylighted street. "Now, I wonder who the deuce that could have been?"

III

I slept at Baker Street that night, and we were engaged upon our toast andcoffee in the morning, when the King of Bohemia rushed into the room. 

"You have really got it?" he cried, grasping Sherlock Holmes by eithershoulder, and looking eagerly into his face. 

"Not yet. "

"But you have hopes?"

"I have hopes. "

"Then come. I am all impatience to be gone. "

"We must have a cab. "

"No, my brougham is waiting. "

"Then that will simplify matters. " We descended, and started off once morefor Briony Lodge. 

"Irene Adler is married, " remarked Holmes. 

"Married! When?"

"Yesterday. "

"But to whom?"

"To an English lawyer named Norton. "

"But she could not love him. "

"I am in hopes that she does. "

"And why in hopes?"

"Because it would spare your majesty all fear of future annoyance. If thelady loves her husband, she does not love your majesty. If she does notlove your majesty, there is no reason why she should interfere with yourmajesty's plan. "

"It is true. And yet--Well, I wish she had been of my own station. What aqueen she would have made!" He relapsed into a moody silence, which wasnot broken until we drew up in Serpentine Avenue. 

The door of Briony Lodge was open, and an elderly woman stood upon thesteps. She watched us with a sardonic eye as we stepped from thebrougham. 

"Mr. Sherlock Holmes, I believe?" said she. 

"I am Mr. Holmes, " answered my companion, looking at her with aquestioning and rather startled gaze. 

"Indeed! My mistress told me that you were likely to call. She left thismorning, with her husband, by the 5:15 train from Charing Cross, for theContinent. "

"What!" Sherlock Holmes staggered back, white with chagrin and surprise. 

"Do you mean that she has left England?"

"Never to return. "

"And the papers?" asked the king hoarsely. "All is lost!"

"We shall see. " He pushed past the servant, and rushed into thedrawing-room, followed by the king and myself. The furniture was scatteredabout in every direction, with dismantled shelves, and open drawers, as ifthe lady had hurriedly ransacked them before her flight. Holmes rushed atthe bell-pull, tore back a small sliding shutter, and plunging in hishand, pulled out a photograph and a letter. The photograph was of IreneAdler herself in evening dress; the letter was superscribed to "SherlockHolmes, Esq. To be left till called for. " My friend tore it open, and weall three read it together. It was dated at midnight of the precedingnight, and ran in this way:

 "MY DEAR MR. SHERLOCK HOLMES, --You really did it very well. You took me in completely. Until after the alarm of the fire, I had not a suspicion. But then, when I found how I had betrayed myself, I began to think. I had been warned against you months ago. I had been told that if the king employed an agent, it would certainly be you. And your address had been given me. Yet, with all this, you made me reveal what you wanted to know. Even after I became suspicious, I found it hard to think evil of such a dear, kind old clergyman. But, you know, I have been trained as an actress myself. Male costume is nothing new to me. I often take advantage of the freedom which it gives. I sent John, the coachman, to watch you, ran upstairs, got into my walking clothes, as I call them, and came down just as you departed. 

 "Well, I followed you to the door, and so made sure that I was really an object of interest to the celebrated Mr. Sherlock Holmes. Then I, rather imprudently, wished you good night, and started for the Temple to see my husband. 

 "We both thought the best resource was flight when pursued by so formidable an antagonist; so you will find the nest empty when you call to-morrow. As to the photograph, your client may rest in peace. I love and am loved by a better man than he. The king may do what he will without hindrance from one whom he has cruelly wronged. I keep it only to safeguard myself, and preserve a weapon which will always secure me from any steps which he might take in the future. I leave a photograph which he might care to possess; and I remain, dear Mr. Sherlock Holmes, very truly yours, "IRENE NORTON, _née_ ADLER. "

"What a woman--oh, what a woman!" cried the King of Bohemia, when we hadall three read this epistle. "Did I not tell you how quick and resoluteshe was? Would she not have made an admirable queen? Is it not a pity thatshe was not on my level?"

"From what I have seen of the lady, she seems indeed to be on a verydifferent level to your majesty, " said Holmes coldly. "I am sorry that Ihave not been able to bring your majesty's business to a more successfulconclusion. "

"On the contrary, my dear sir, " cried the king, "nothing could be moresuccessful. I know that her word is inviolate. The photograph is now assafe as if it were in the fire. "

"I am glad to hear your majesty say so. "

"I am immensely indebted to you. Pray tell me in what way I can rewardyou. This ring--" He slipped an emerald snake ring from his finger, andheld it out upon the palm of his hand. 

"Your majesty has something which I should value even more highly, " saidHolmes. 

"You have but to name it. "

"This photograph!"

The king stared at him in amazement. 

"Irene's photograph!" he cried. "Certainly, if you wish it. "

"I thank your majesty. Then there is no more to be done in the matter. Ihave the honor to wish you a very good morning. " He bowed, and turningaway without observing the hand which the king had stretched out to him, he set off in my company for his chambers. 

And that was how a great scandal threatened to affect the kingdom ofBohemia, and how the best plans of Mr. Sherlock Holmes were beaten by awoman's wit. He used to make merry over the cleverness of women, but Ihave not heard him do it of late. And when he speaks of Irene Adler, orwhen he refers to her photograph, it is always under the honorable titleof _the_ woman. 

_The Red-Headed League_

I had called upon my friend, Mr. Sherlock Holmes, one day in the autumn oflast year, and found him in deep conversation with a very stout, florid-faced elderly gentleman, with fiery red hair. With an apology formy intrusion, I was about to withdraw, when Holmes pulled me abruptly intothe room and closed the door behind me. 

"You could not possibly have come at a better time, my dear Watson, " hesaid, cordially. 

"I was afraid that you were engaged. "

"So I am. Very much so. "

"Then I can wait in the next room. "

"Not at all. This gentleman, Mr. Wilson, has been my partner and helper inmany of my most successful cases, and I have no doubt that he will be ofthe utmost use to me in yours also. "

The stout gentleman half rose from his chair and gave a bob of greeting, with a quick little questioning glance from his small, fat-encircled eyes. 

"Try the settee, " said Holmes, relapsing into his armchair, and puttinghis finger tips together, as was his custom when in judicial moods. "Iknow, my dear Watson, that you share my love of all that is bizarre andoutside the conventions and humdrum routine of everyday life. You haveshown your relish for it by the enthusiasm which has prompted you tochronicle, and, if you will excuse my saying so, somewhat to embellish somany of my own little adventures. "

"Your cases have indeed been of the greatest interest to me, " I observed. 

"You will remember that I remarked the other day, just before we went intothe very simple problem presented by Miss Mary Sutherland, that forstrange effects and extraordinary combinations we must go to life itself, which is always far more daring than any effort of the imagination. "

"A proposition which I took the liberty of doubting. "

"You did, doctor, but none the less you must come round to my view, forotherwise I shall keep on piling fact upon fact on you, until your reasonbreaks down under them and acknowledge me to be right. Now, Mr. JabezWilson here has been good enough to call upon me this morning, and tobegin a narrative which promises to be one of the most singular which Ihave listened to for some time. You have heard me remark that thestrangest and most unique things are very often connected not with thelarger but with the smaller crimes, and occasionally, indeed, where thereis room for doubt whether any positive crime has been committed. As far asI have heard, it is impossible for me to say whether the present case isan instance of crime or not, but the course of events is certainly amongthe most singular that I have ever listened to. Perhaps, Mr. Wilson, youwould have the great kindness to recommence your narrative. I ask you, notmerely because my friend, Dr. Watson, has not heard the opening part, butalso because the peculiar nature of the story makes me anxious to haveevery possible detail from your lips. As a rule, when I have heard someslight indication of the course of events I am able to guide myself by thethousands of other similar cases which occur to my memory. In the presentinstance I am forced to admit that the facts are, to the best of mybelief, unique. "

The portly client puffed out his chest with an appearance of some littlepride, and pulled a dirty and wrinkled newspaper from the inside pocket ofhis greatcoat. As he glanced down the advertisement column, with his headthrust forward, and the paper flattened out upon his knee, I took a goodlook at the man, and endeavored, after the fashion of my companion, toread the indications which might be presented by his dress or appearance. 

I did not gain very much, however, by my inspection. Our visitor boreevery mark of being an average commonplace British tradesman, obese, pompous, and slow. He wore rather baggy gray shepherd's check trousers, anot overclean black frock coat, unbuttoned in the front, and a drabwaistcoat with a heavy brassy Albert chain, and a square pierced bit ofmetal dangling down as an ornament. A frayed top hat and a faded brownovercoat with a wrinkled velvet collar lay upon a chair beside him. Altogether, look as I would, there was nothing remarkable about the mansave his blazing red head and the expression of extreme chagrin anddiscontent upon his features. 

Sherlock Holmes's quick eye took in my occupation, and he shook his headwith a smile as he noticed my questioning glances. "Beyond the obviousfacts that he has at some time done manual labor, that he takes snuff, that he is a Freemason, that he has been in China, and that he has done aconsiderable amount of writing lately, I can deduce nothing else. "

Mr. Jabez Wilson started up in his chair, with his forefinger upon thepaper, but his eyes upon my companion. 

"How, in the name of good fortune, did you know all that, Mr. Holmes?" heasked. "How did you know, for example, that I did manual labor? It's astrue as gospel, for I began as a ship's carpenter. "

"Your hands, my dear sir. Your right hand is quite a size larger than yourleft. You have worked with it and the muscles are more developed. "

"Well, the snuff, then, and the Freemasonry?"

"I won't insult your intelligence by telling you how I read that, especially as, rather against the strict rules of your order, you use anarc and compass breastpin. "

"Ah, of course, I forgot that. But the writing?"

"What else can be indicated by that right cuff so very shiny for fiveinches, and the left one with the smooth patch near the elbow where yourest it upon the desk. "

"Well, but China?"

"The fish which you have tattooed immediately above your wrist could onlyhave been done in China. I have made a small study of tattoo marks, andhave even contributed to the literature of the subject. That trick ofstaining the fishes' scales of a delicate pink is quite peculiar to China. When, in addition, I see a Chinese coin hanging from your watch chain, thematter becomes even more simple. "

Mr. Jabez Wilson laughed heavily. "Well, I never!" said he. "I thought atfirst that you had done something clever, but I see that there was nothingin it after all. "

"I begin to think, Watson, " said Holmes, "that I make a mistake inexplaining. '_Omne ignotom pro magnifico_, ' you know, and my poor littlereputation, such as it is, will suffer shipwreck if I am so candid. Canyou not find the advertisement, Mr. Wilson?"

"Yes, I have got it now, " he answered, with his thick, red finger plantedhalfway down the column. "Here it is. This is what began it all. You justread it for yourself, sir. "

I took the paper from him and read as follows:

 "To the Red-headed League: On account of the bequest of the late Ezekiah Hopkins, of Lebanon, Pa. , U. S. A. , there is now another vacancy open which entitles a member of the League to a salary of four pounds a week for purely nominal services. All red-headed men who are sound in body and mind and above the age of twenty-one years are eligible. Apply in person on Monday, at eleven o'clock, to Duncan Ross, at the offices of the League, 7 Pope's Court, Fleet Street. "

"What on earth does this mean?" I ejaculated, after I had twice read overthe extraordinary announcement. 

Holmes chuckled and wriggled in his chair, as was his habit when in highspirits. "It is a little off the beaten track, isn't it?" said he. "Andnow, Mr. Wilson, off you go at scratch, and tell us all about yourself, your household, and the effect which this advertisement had upon yourfortunes. You will first make a note, doctor, of the paper and the date. "

"It is _The Morning Chronicle_ of April 27, 1890. Just two months ago. "

"Very good. Now, Mr. Wilson. "

"Well, it is just as I have been telling you, Mr. Sherlock Holmes, " saidJabez Wilson, mopping his forehead, "I have a small pawnbroker's businessat Saxe-Coburg Square, near the City. It's not a very large affair, and oflate years it has not done more than just give me a living. I used to beable to keep two assistants, but now I only keep one; and I would have ajob to pay him but that he is willing to come for half wages, so as tolearn the business. "

"What is the name of this obliging youth?" asked Sherlock Holmes. 

"His name is Vincent Spaulding, and he's not such a youth either. It'shard to say his age. I should not wish a smarter assistant, Mr. Holmes;and I know very well that he could better himself, and earn twice what Iam able to give him. But, after all, if he is satisfied, why should I putideas in his head?"

"Why, indeed? You seem most fortunate in having an employee who comesunder the full market price. It is not a common experience among employersin this age. I don't know that your assistant is not as remarkable as youradvertisement. "

"Oh, he has his faults, too, " said Mr. Wilson. "Never was such a fellowfor photography. Snapping away with a camera when he ought to be improvinghis mind, and then diving down into the cellar like a rabbit into its holeto develop his pictures. That is his main fault; but, on the whole, he's agood worker. There's no vice in him. "

"He is still with you, I presume?"

"Yes, sir. He and a girl of fourteen, who does a bit of simple cooking, and keeps the place clean--that's all I have in the house, for I am awidower, and never had any family. We live very quietly, sir, the three ofus; and we keep a roof over our heads, and pay our debts, if we do nothingmore. 

"The first thing that put us out was that advertisement. Spaulding, hecame down into the office just this day eight weeks, with this very paperin his hand, and he says:

"'I wish to the Lord, Mr. Wilson, that I was a red-headed man. '

"'Why that?' I asks. 

"'Why, ' says he, 'here's another vacancy on the League of the Red-headedMen. It's worth quite a little fortune to any man who gets it, and Iunderstand that there are more vacancies than there are men, so that thetrustees are at their wits' end what to do with the money. If my hairwould only change color here's a nice little crib all ready for me to stepinto. '

"'Why, what is it, then?' I asked. You see, Mr. Holmes, I am a verystay-at-home man, and, as my business came to me instead of my having togo to it, I was often weeks on end without putting my foot over the doormat. In that way I didn't know much of what was going on outside, and Iwas always glad of a bit of news. 

"'Have you never heard of the League of the Red-headed Men?' he asked, with his eyes open. 

"'Never. '

"'Why, I wonder at that, for you are eligible yourself for one of thevacancies. '

"'And what are they worth?' I asked. 

"'Oh, merely a couple of hundred a year, but the work is slight, and itneed not interfere very much with one's other occupations. '

"Well, you can easily think that that made me prick up my ears, for thebusiness has not been over good for some years, and an extra couple ofhundred would have been very handy. 

"'Tell me all about it, ' said I. 

"'Well, ' said he, showing me the advertisement, 'you can see for yourselfthat the League has a vacancy, and there is the address where you shouldapply for particulars. As far as I can make out, the League was founded byan American millionaire, Ezekiah Hopkins, who was very peculiar in hisways. He was himself red-headed, and he had a great sympathy for allred-headed men; so, when he died, it was found that he had left hisenormous fortune in the hands of trustees, with instructions to apply theinterest to the providing of easy berths to men whose hair is of thatcolor. From all I hear it is splendid pay, and very little to do. '

"'But, ' said I, 'there would be millions of red-headed men who wouldapply. '

"'Not so many as you might think, ' he answered. 'You see it is reallyconfined to Londoners, and to grown men. This American had started fromLondon when he was young, and he wanted to do the old town a good turn. Then, again, I have heard it is of no use your applying if your hair islight red, or dark red, or anything but real, bright, blazing, fiery red. Now, if you cared to apply, Mr. Wilson, you would just walk in; butperhaps it would hardly be worth your while to put yourself out of the wayfor the sake of a few hundred pounds. '

"Now it is a fact, gentlemen, as you may see for yourselves, that my hairis of a very full and rich tint, so that it seemed to me that, if therewas to be any competition in the matter, I stood as good a chance as anyman that I had ever met. Vincent Spaulding seemed to know so much about itthat I thought he might prove useful, so I just ordered him to put up theshutters for the day, and to come right away with me. He was very willingto have a holiday, so we shut the business up, and started off for theaddress that was given us in the advertisement. 

"I never hope to see such a sight as that again, Mr. Holmes. From north, south, east, and west every man who had a shade of red in his hair hadtramped into the City to answer the advertisement. Fleet Street was chokedwith red-headed folk, and Pope's Court looked like a coster's orangebarrow. I should not have thought there were so many in the whole countryas were brought together by that single advertisement. Every shade ofcolor they were--straw, lemon, orange, brick, Irish setter, liver, clay;but, as Spaulding said, there were not many who had the real vividflame-colored tint. When I saw how many were waiting, I would have givenit up in despair; but Spaulding would not hear of it. How he did it Icould not imagine, but he pushed and pulled and butted until he got methrough the crowd, and right up to the steps which led to the office. There was a double stream upon the stair, some going up in hope, and somecoming back dejected; but we wedged in as well as we could, and soon foundourselves in the office. "

"Your experience has been a most entertaining one, " remarked Holmes, ashis client paused and refreshed his memory with a huge pinch of snuff. "Pray continue your very interesting statement. "

"There was nothing in the office but a couple of wooden chairs and a dealtable, behind which sat a small man, with a head that was even redder thanmine. He said a few words to each candidate as he came up, and then healways managed to find some fault in them which would disqualify them. Getting a vacancy did not seem to be such a very easy matter after all. However, when our turn came, the little man was much more favorable to methan to any of the others, and he closed the door as we entered, so thathe might have a private word with us. 

"'This is Mr. Jabez Wilson, ' said my assistant, 'and he is willing to filla vacancy in the League. '

"'And he is admirably suited for it, ' the other answered. 'He has everyrequirement. I cannot recall when I have seen anything so fine. ' He took astep backward, cocked his head on one side, and gazed at my hair until Ifelt quite bashful. Then suddenly he plunged forward, wrung my hand, andcongratulated me warmly on my success. 

"'It would be injustice to hesitate, ' said he. 'You will, however, I amsure, excuse me for taking an obvious precaution. ' With that he seized myhair in both his hands, and tugged until I yelled with the pain. 'There iswater in your eyes, ' said he, as he released me. 'I perceive that all isas it should be. But we have to be careful, for we have twice beendeceived by wigs and once by paint. I could tell you tales of cobbler'swax which would disgust you with human nature. ' He stepped over to thewindow and shouted through it at the top of his voice that the vacancy wasfilled. A groan of disappointment came up from below, and the folk alltrooped away in different directions, until there was not a red head to beseen except my own and that of the manager. 

"'My name, ' said he, 'is Mr. Duncan Ross, and I am myself one of thepensioners upon the fund left by our noble benefactor. Are you a marriedman, Mr. Wilson? Have you a family?'

"I answered that I had not. 

"His face fell immediately. 

"'Dear me!' he said, gravely, 'that is very serious indeed! I am sorry tohear you say that. The fund was, of course, for the propagation and spreadof the red heads as well as for their maintenance. It is exceedinglyunfortunate that you should be a bachelor. '

"My face lengthened at this, Mr. Holmes, for I thought that I was not tohave the vacancy after all; but, after thinking it over for a fewminutes, he said that it would be all right. 

"'In the case of another, ' said he, 'the objection might be fatal, but wemust stretch a point in favor of a man with such a head of hair as yours. When shall you be able to enter upon your new duties?'

"'Well, it is a little awkward, for I have a business already, ' said I. 

"'Oh, never mind about that, Mr. Wilson!' said Vincent Spaulding. 'I shallbe able to look after that for you. '

"'What would be the hours?' I asked. 

"'Ten to two. '

"Now a pawnbroker's business is mostly done of an evening, Mr. Holmes, especially Thursday and Friday evenings, which is just before pay day; soit would suit me very well to earn a little in the mornings. Besides, Iknew that my assistant was a good man, and that he would see to anythingthat turned up. 

"'That would suit me very well, ' said I. 'And the pay?'

"'Is four pounds a week. '

"'And the work?'

"'Is purely nominal. '

"'What do you call purely nominal?'

"'Well, you have to be in the office, or at least in the building, thewhole time. If you leave, you forfeit your whole position forever. Thewill is very clear upon that point. You don't comply with the conditionsif you budge from the office during that time. '

"'It's only four hours a day, and I should not think of leaving, ' said I. 

"'No excuse will avail, ' said Mr. Duncan Ross, 'neither sickness, norbusiness, nor anything else. There you must stay, or you lose yourbillet. '

"'And the work?'

"'Is to copy out the "Encyclopædia Britannica. " There is the first volumeof it in that press. You must find your own ink, pens, and blottingpaper, but we provide this table and chair. Will you be ready to-morrow?'

"'Certainly, ' I answered. 

"'Then, good-by, Mr. Jabez Wilson, and let me congratulate you once moreon the important position which you have been fortunate enough to gain. 'He bowed me out of the room, and I went home with my assistant hardlyknowing what to say or do, I was so pleased at my own good fortune. 

"Well, I thought over the matter all day, and by evening I was in lowspirits again; for I had quite persuaded myself that the whole affair mustbe some great hoax or fraud, though what its object might be I could notimagine. It seemed altogether past belief that anyone could make such awill, or that they would pay such a sum for doing anything so simple ascopying out the 'Encyclopædia Britannica. ' Vincent Spaulding did what hecould to cheer me up, but by bed time I had reasoned myself out of thewhole thing. However, in the morning I determined to have a look at itanyhow, so I bought a penny bottle of ink, and with a quill pen and sevensheets of foolscap paper I started off for Pope's Court. 

"Well, to my surprise and delight everything was as right as possible. Thetable was set out ready for me, and Mr. Duncan Ross was there to see thatI got fairly to work. He started me off upon the letter A, and then heleft me; but he would drop in from time to time to see that all was rightwith me. At two o'clock he bade me good-day, complimented me upon theamount that I had written, and locked the door of the office after me. 

"This went on day after day, Mr. Holmes, and on Saturday the manager camein and planked down four golden sovereigns for my week's work. It was thesame next week, and the same the week after. Every morning I was there atten, and every afternoon I left at two. By degrees Mr. Duncan Ross took tocoming in only once of a morning, and then, after a time, he did not comein at all. Still, of course, I never dared to leave the room for aninstant, for I was not sure when he might come, and the billet was such agood one, and suited me so well, that I would not risk the loss of it. 

"Eight weeks passed away like this, and I had written about Abbots, andArchery, and Armor, and Architecture, and Attica, and hoped with diligencethat I might get on to the Bs before very long. It cost me something infoolscap, and I had pretty nearly filled a shelf with my writings. Andthen suddenly the whole business came to an end. "

"To an end?"

"Yes, sir. And no later than this morning. I went to my work as usual atten o'clock, but the door was shut and locked, with a little square ofcardboard hammered onto the middle of the panel with a tack. Here it is, and you can read for yourself. "

He held up a piece of white cardboard, about the size of a sheet of notepaper. It read in this fashion:

 "THE RED-HEADED LEAGUE IS DISSOLVED. Oct. 9, 1890. "

Sherlock Holmes and I surveyed this curt announcement and the rueful facebehind it, until the comical side of the affair so completely overtoppedevery consideration that we both burst out into a roar of laughter. 

"I cannot see that there is anything very funny, " cried our client, flushing up to the roots of his flaming head. "If you can do nothingbetter than laugh at me, I can go elsewhere. "

"No, no, " cried Holmes, shoving him back into the chair from which he hadhalf risen. "I really wouldn't miss your case for the world. It is mostrefreshingly unusual. But there is, if you will excuse my saying so, something just a little funny about it. Pray what steps did you take whenyou found the card upon the door?"

"I was staggered, sir. I did not know what to do. Then I called at theoffices round, but none of them seemed to know anything about it. Finally, I went to the landlord, who is an accountant living on the ground floor, and I asked him if he could tell me what had become of the Red-headedLeague. He said that he had never heard of any such body. Then I asked himwho Mr. Duncan Ross was. He answered that the name was new to him. 

"'Well' said I, 'the gentleman at No. 4. '

"'What, the red-headed man?'

"'Yes. '

"'Oh, ' said he, 'his name was William Morris. He was a solicitor, and wasusing my room as a temporary convenience until his new premises wereready. He moved out yesterday. '

"'Where could I find him?'

"'Oh, at his new offices. He did tell me the address. Yes, 17 King EdwardStreet, near St. Paul's. '

"I started off, Mr. Holmes, but when I got to that address it was amanufactory of artificial knee-caps, and no one in it had ever heard ofeither Mr. William Morris or Mr. Duncan Ross. "

"And what did you do then?" asked Holmes. 

"I went home to Saxe-Coburg Square, and I took the advice of my assistant. But he could not help me in any way. He could only say that if I waited Ishould hear by post. But that was not quite good enough, Mr. Holmes. I didnot wish to lose such a place without a struggle, so, as I had heard thatyou were good enough to give advice to poor folk who were in need of it, Icame right away to you. "

"And you did very wisely, " said Holmes. "Your case is an exceedinglyremarkable one, and I shall be happy to look into it. From what you havetold me I think that it is possible that graver issues hang from it thanmight at first sight appear. "

"Grave enough!" said Mr. Jabez Wilson. "Why, I have lost four pound aweek. "

"As far as you are personally concerned, " remarked Holmes, "I do not seethat you have any grievance against this extraordinary league. On thecontrary, you are, as I understand, richer by some thirty pounds, to saynothing of the minute knowledge which you have gained on every subjectwhich comes under the letter A. You have lost nothing by them. "

"No, sir. But I want to find out about them, and who they are, and whattheir object was in playing this prank--if it was a prank--upon me. It wasa pretty expensive joke for them, for it cost them two-and-thirty pounds. "

"We shall endeavor to clear up these points for you. And, first, one ortwo questions, Mr. Wilson. This assistant of yours who first called yourattention to the advertisement--how long had he been with you?"

"About a month then. "

"How did he come?"

"In answer to an advertisement. "

"Was he the only applicant?"

"No, I had a dozen. "

"Why did you pick him?"

"Because he was handy and would come cheap. "

"At half wages, in fact. "

"Yes. "

"What is he like, this Vincent Spaulding?"

"Small, stout-built, very quick in his ways, no hair on his face, thoughhe's not short of thirty. Has a white splash of acid upon his forehead. "

Holmes sat up in his chair in considerable excitement. "I thought asmuch, " said he. "Have you ever observed that his ears are pierced forearrings?"

"Yes, sir. He told me that a gypsy had done it for him when he was a lad. "

"Hum!" said Holmes, sinking back in deep thought. "He is still with you?"

"Oh, yes, sir; I have only just left him. "

"And has your business been attended to in your absence?"

"Nothing to complain of, sir. There's never very much to do of a morning. "

"That will do, Mr. Wilson. I shall be happy to give you an opinion uponthe subject in the course of a day or two. To-day is Saturday, and I hopethat by Monday we may come to a conclusion. "

"Well, Watson, " said Holmes, when our visitor had left us, "what do youmake of it all?"

"I make nothing of it, " I answered frankly. "It is a most mysteriousbusiness. "

"As a rule, " said Holmes, "the more bizarre a thing is the less mysteriousit proves to be. It is your commonplace, featureless crimes which arereally puzzling, just as a commonplace face is the most difficult toidentify. But I must be prompt over this matter. "

"What are you going to do, then?" I asked. 

"To smoke, " he answered. "It is quite a three-pipe problem, and I beg thatyou won't speak to me for fifty minutes. " He curled himself up in hischair, with his thin knees drawn up to his hawklike nose, and there he satwith his eyes closed and his black clay pipe thrusting out like the billof some strange bird. I had come to the conclusion that he had droppedasleep, and indeed was nodding myself, when he suddenly sprang out of hischair with the gesture of a man who has made up his mind, and put his pipedown upon the mantelpiece. 

"Sarasate plays at St. James's Hall this afternoon, " he remarked. "What doyou think, Watson? Could your patients spare you for a few hours?"

"I have nothing to do to-day. My practice is never very absorbing. "

"Then put on your hat and come. I am going through the City first, and wecan have some lunch on the way. I observe that there is a good deal ofGerman music on the programme, which is rather more to my taste thanItalian or French. It is introspective, and I want to introspect. Comealong!"

We traveled by the Underground as far as Aldersgate; and a short walk tookus to Saxe-Coburg Square, the scene of the singular story which we hadlistened to in the morning. It was a poky, little, shabby-genteel place, where four lines of dingy, two-storied brick houses looked out into asmall railed-in inclosure, where a lawn of weedy grass, and a few clumpsof faded laurel bushes made a hard fight against a smoke-laden anduncongenial atmosphere. Three gilt balls and a brown board with JABEZWILSON in white letters, upon a corner house, announced the place whereour red-headed client carried on his business. Sherlock Holmes stopped infront of it with his head on one side, and looked it all over, with hiseyes shining brightly between puckered lids. Then he walked slowly up thestreet, and then down again to the corner, still looking keenly at thehouses. Finally he returned to the pawnbroker's and, having thumpedvigorously upon the pavement with his stick two or three times, he went upto the door and knocked. It was instantly opened by a bright-looking, clean-shaven young fellow, who asked him to step in. 

"Thank you, " said Holmes, "I only wished to ask you how you would go fromhere to the Strand. "

"Third right, fourth left, " answered the assistant, promptly, closing thedoor. 

"Smart fellow, that, " observed Holmes as we walked away. "He is, in myjudgment, the fourth smartest man in London, and for daring I am not surethat he has not a claim to be third. I have known something of himbefore. "

"Evidently, " said I, "Mr. Wilson's assistant counts for a good deal inthis mystery of the Red-headed League. I am sure that you inquired yourway merely in order that you might see him. "

"Not him. "

"What then?"

"The knees of his trousers. "

"And what did you see?"

"What I expected to see. "

"Why did you beat the pavement?"

"My dear doctor, this is a time for observation, not for talk. We arespies in an enemy's country. We know something of Saxe-Coburg Square. Letus now explore the parts which lie behind it. "

The road in which we found ourselves as we turned round the corner fromthe retired Saxe-Coburg Square presented as great a contrast to it as thefront of a picture does to the back. It was one of the main arteries whichconvey the traffic of the City to the north and west. The roadway wasblocked with the immense stream of commerce flowing in a double tideinward and outward, while the footpaths were black with the hurrying swarmof pedestrians. It was difficult to realize, as we looked at the line offine shops and stately business premises, that they really abutted on theother side upon the faded and stagnant square which we had just quitted. 

"Let me see, " said Holmes, standing at the corner, and glancing along theline, "I should like just to remember the order of the houses here. It isa hobby of mine to have an exact knowledge of London. There is Mortimer's, the tobacconist; the little newspaper shop, the Coburg branch of the Cityand Suburban Bank, the Vegetarian Restaurant, and McFarlane'scarriage-building depot. That carries us right on to the other block. Andnow, doctor, we've done our work, so it's time we had some play. Asandwich and a cup of coffee, and then off to violin-land, where all issweetness, and delicacy, and harmony, and there are no red-headed clientsto vex us with their conundrums. "

My friend was an enthusiastic musician, being himself not only a verycapable performer, but a composer of no ordinary merit. All the afternoonhe sat in the stalls wrapped in the most perfect happiness, gently wavinghis long thin fingers in time to the music, while his gently smiling faceand his languid, dreamy eyes were as unlike those of Holmes thesleuth-hound, Holmes the relentless, keen-witted, ready-handed criminalagent, as it was possible to conceive. In his singular character the dualnature alternately asserted itself, and his extreme exactness andastuteness represented, as I have often thought, the reaction against thepoetic and contemplative mood which occasionally predominated in him. Theswing of his nature took him from extreme languor to devouring energy;and, as I knew well, he was never so truly formidable as when, for days onend, he had been lounging in his armchair amid his improvisations and hisblack-letter editions. Then it was that the lust of the chase wouldsuddenly come upon him, and that his brilliant reasoning power would riseto the level of intuition, until those who were unacquainted with hismethods would look askance at him as on a man whose knowledge was not thatof other mortals. When I saw him that afternoon so enwrapped in the musicat St. James's Hall, I felt that an evil time might be coming upon thosewhom he had set himself to hunt down. 

"You want to go home, no doubt, doctor, " he remarked, as we emerged. 

"Yes, it would be as well. "

"And I have some business to do which will take some hours. This businessat Saxe-Coburg Square is serious. "

"Why serious?"

"A considerable crime is in contemplation. I have every reason to believethat we shall be in time to stop it. But to-day being Saturday rathercomplicates matters. I shall want your help to-night. "

"At what time?"

"Ten will be early enough. "

"I shall be at Baker Street at ten. "

"Very well. And, I say, doctor! there may be some little danger, so kindlyput your army revolver in your pocket. " He waved his hand, turned on hisheel, and disappeared in an instant among the crowd. 

I trust that I am not more dense than my neighbors, but I was alwaysoppressed with a sense of my own stupidity in my dealings with SherlockHolmes. Here I had heard what he had heard, I had seen what he had seen, and yet from his words it was evident that he saw clearly not only whathad happened, but what was about to happen, while to me the wholebusiness was still confused and grotesque. As I drove home to my house inKensington I thought over it all, from the extraordinary story of thered-headed copier of the "Encyclopædia" down to the visit to Saxe-CoburgSquare, and the ominous words with which he had parted from me. What wasthis nocturnal expedition, and why should I go armed? Where were we going, and what were we to do? I had the hint from Holmes that this smooth-facedpawnbroker's assistant was a formidable man--a man who might play a deepgame. I tried to puzzle it out, but gave it up in despair, and set thematter aside until night should bring an explanation. 

It was a quarter-past nine when I started from home and made my way acrossthe Park, and so through Oxford Street to Baker Street. Two hansoms werestanding at the door, and, as I entered the passage, I heard the sound ofvoices from above. On entering his room, I found Holmes in animatedconversation with two men, one of whom I recognized as Peter Jones, theofficial police agent; while the other was a long, thin, sad-faced man, with a very shiny hat and oppressively respectable frock coat. 

"Ha! our party is complete, " said Holmes, buttoning up his pea-jacket, andtaking his heavy hunting crop from the rack. "Watson, I think you know Mr. Jones, of Scotland Yard? Let me introduce you to Mr. Merryweather, who isto be our companion in to-night's adventure. "

"We're hunting in couples again, doctor, you see, " said Jones, in hisconsequential way. "Our friend here is a wonderful man for starting achase. All he wants is an old dog to help him do the running down. "

"I hope a wild goose may not prove to be the end of our chase, " observedMr. Merryweather gloomily. 

"You may place considerable confidence in Mr. Holmes, sir, " said thepolice agent loftily. "He has his own little methods, which are, if hewon't mind my saying so, just a little too theoretical and fantastic, buthe has the makings of a detective in him. It is not too much to say thatonce or twice, as in that business of the Sholto murder and the Agratreasure, he has been more nearly correct than the official force. "

"Oh, if you say so, Mr. Jones, it is all right!" said the stranger, withdeference. "Still, I confess that I miss my rubber. It is the firstSaturday night for seven-and-twenty years that I have not had my rubber. "

"I think you will find, " said Sherlock Holmes, "that you will play for ahigher stake to-night than you have ever done yet, and that the play willbe more exciting. For you, Mr. Merryweather, the stake will be some thirtythousand pounds; and for you, Jones, it will be the man upon whom you wishto lay your hands. "

"John Clay, the murderer, thief, smasher, and forger. He's a young man, Mr. Merryweather, but he is at the head of his profession, and I wouldrather have my bracelets on him than on any criminal in London. He's aremarkable man, is young John Clay. His grandfather was a Royal Duke, andhe himself has been to Eton and Oxford. His brain is as cunning as hisfingers, and though we meet signs of him at every turn, we never knowwhere to find the man himself. He'll crack a crib in Scotland one week, and be raising money to build an orphanage in Cornwall the next. I've beenon his track for years, and have never set eyes on him yet. "

"I hope that I may have the pleasure of introducing you to-night. I've hadone or two little turns also with Mr. John Clay, and I agree with you thathe is at the head of his profession. It is past ten, however, and quitetime that we started. If you two will take the first hansom, Watson and Iwill follow in the second. "

Sherlock Holmes was not very communicative during the long drive, and layback in the cab humming the tunes which he had heard in the afternoon. Werattled through an endless labyrinth of gaslit streets until we emergedinto Farringdon Street. 

"We are close there now, " my friend remarked. "This fellow Merryweatheris a bank director and personally interested in the matter. I thought itas well to have Jones with us also. He is not a bad fellow, though anabsolute imbecile in his profession. He has one positive virtue. He is asbrave as a bulldog, and as tenacious as a lobster if he gets his clawsupon anyone. Here we are, and they are waiting for us. "

We had reached the same crowded thoroughfare in which we had foundourselves in the morning. Our cabs were dismissed, and following theguidance of Mr. Merryweather, we passed down a narrow passage, and througha side door which he opened for us. Within there was a small corridor, which ended in a very massive iron gate. This also was opened, and leddown a flight of winding stone steps, which terminated at anotherformidable gate. Mr. Merryweather stopped to light a lantern, and thenconducted us down a dark, earth-smelling passage, and so, after opening athird door, into a huge vault or cellar, which was piled all round withcrates and massive boxes. 

"You are not very vulnerable from above, " Holmes remarked, as he held upthe lantern and gazed about him. 

"Nor from below, " said Mr. Merryweather, striking his stick upon the flagswhich lined the floor. "Why, dear me, it sounds quite hollow!" heremarked, looking up in surprise. 

"I must really ask you to be a little more quiet, " said Holmes severely. "You have already imperiled the whole success of our expedition. Might Ibeg that you would have the goodness to sit down upon one of those boxes, and not to interfere?"

The solemn Mr. Merryweather perched himself upon a crate, with a veryinjured expression upon his face, while Holmes fell upon his knees uponthe floor, and, with the lantern and a magnifying lens, began to examineminutely the cracks between the stones. A few seconds sufficed to satisfyhim, for he sprang to his feet again, and put his glass in his pocket. 

"We have at least an hour before us, " he remarked, "for they can hardlytake any steps until the good pawnbroker is safely in bed. Then they willnot lose a minute, for the sooner they do their work the longer time theywill have for their escape. We are at present, doctor--as no doubt youhave divined--in the cellar of the City branch of one of the principalLondon banks. Mr. Merryweather is the chairman of directors, and he willexplain to you that there are reasons why the more daring criminals ofLondon should take a considerable interest in this cellar at present. "

"It is our French gold, " whispered the director. "We have had severalwarnings that an attempt might be made upon it. "

"Your French gold?"

"Yes. We had occasion some months ago to strengthen our resources, andborrowed, for that purpose, thirty thousand napoleons from the Bank ofFrance. It has become known that we have never had occasion to unpack themoney, and that it is still lying in our cellar. The crate upon which Isit contains two thousand napoleons packed between layers of lead foil. Our reserve of bullion is much larger at present than is usually kept in asingle branch office, and the directors have had misgivings upon thesubject. "

"Which were very well justified, " observed Holmes. 

"And now it is time that we arranged our little plans. I expect thatwithin an hour matters will come to a head. In the meantime, Mr. Merryweather, we must put the screen over that dark lantern. "

"And sit in the dark?"

"I am afraid so. I had brought a pack of cards in my pocket, and I thoughtthat, as we were a _partie carrée_, you might have your rubber after all. But I see that the enemy's preparations have gone so far that we cannotrisk the presence of a light. And, first of all, we must choose ourpositions. These are daring men, and, though we shall take them at adisadvantage, they may do us some harm, unless we are careful. I shallstand behind this crate, and do you conceal yourself behind those. Then, when I flash a light upon them, close in swiftly. If they fire, Watson, have no compunction about shooting them down. "

I placed my revolver, cocked, upon the top of the wooden case behind whichI crouched. Holmes shot the slide across the front of his lantern, andleft us in pitch darkness--such an absolute darkness as I have neverbefore experienced. The smell of hot metal remained to assure us that thelight was still there, ready to flash out at a moment's notice. To me, with my nerves worked up to a pitch of expectancy, there was somethingdepressing and subduing in the sudden gloom, and in the cold, dank air ofthe vault. 

"They have but one retreat, " whispered Holmes. "That is back through thehouse into Saxe-Coburg Square. I hope that you have done what I asked you, Jones?"

"I have an inspector and two officers waiting at the front door. "

"Then we have stopped all the holes. And now we must be silent and wait. "

What a time it seemed! From comparing notes afterwards, it was but an hourand a quarter, yet it appeared to me that the night must have almost gone, and the dawn be breaking above us. My limbs were weary and stiff, for Ifeared to change my position, yet my nerves were worked up to the highestpitch of tension, and my hearing was so acute that I could not only hearthe gentle breathing of my companions, but I could distinguish the deeper, heavier inbreath of the bulky Jones from the thin, sighing note of thebank director. From my position I could look over the case in thedirection of the floor. Suddenly my eyes caught the glint of a light. 

At first it was but a lurid spark upon the stone pavement. Then itlengthened out until it became a yellow line, and then, without anywarning or sound, a gash seemed to open and a hand appeared, a white, almost womanly hand, which felt about in the center of the little area oflight. For a minute or more the hand, with its writhing fingers, protruded out of the floor. Then it was withdrawn as suddenly as itappeared, and all was dark again save the single lurid spark, which markeda chink between the stones. 

Its disappearance, however, was but momentary. With a rending, tearingsound, one of the broad white stones turned over upon its side, and left asquare, gaping hole, through which streamed the light of a lantern. Overthe edge there peeped a clean-cut, boyish face, which looked keenly aboutit, and then, with a hand on either side of the aperture, drew itselfshoulder-high and waist-high, until one knee rested upon the edge. Inanother instant he stood at the side of the hole, and was hauling afterhim a companion, lithe and small like himself, with a pale face and ashock of very red hair. 

"It's all clear, " he whispered. "Have you the chisel and the bags? GreatScott! Jump, Archie, jump, and I'll swing for it!"

Sherlock Holmes had sprung out and seized the intruder by the collar. Theother dived down the hole, and I heard the sound of rending cloth as Jonesclutched at his skirts. The light flashed upon the barrel of a revolver, but Holmes's hunting crop came down on the man's wrist, and the pistolclinked upon the stone floor. 

"It's no use, John Clay, " said Holmes blandly, "you have no chance atall. "

"So I see, " the other answered, with the utmost coolness. "I fancy that mypal is all right, though I see you have got his coat-tails. "

"There are three men waiting for him at the door, " said Holmes. 

"Oh, indeed. You seem to have done the thing very completely. I mustcompliment you. "

"And I you, " Holmes answered. "Your red-headed idea was very new andeffective. "

"You'll see your pal again presently, " said Jones. "He's quicker atclimbing down holes than I am. Just hold out while I fix the derbies. "

"I beg that you will not touch me with your filthy hands, " remarked ourprisoner, as the handcuffs clattered upon his wrists. "You may not beaware that I have royal blood in my veins. Have the goodness also, whenyou address me, always to say 'sir' and 'please. '"

"All right, " said Jones, with a stare and a snigger. "Well, would youplease, sir, march upstairs where we can get a cab to carry your highnessto the police station?"

"That is better, " said John Clay serenely. He made a sweeping bow to thethree of us, and walked quietly off in the custody of the detective. 

"Really, Mr. Holmes, " said Mr. Merryweather, as we followed them from thecellar, "I do not know how the bank can thank you or repay you. There isno doubt that you have detected and defeated in the most complete mannerone of the most determined attempts at bank robbery, that have ever comewithin my experience. "

"I have had one or two little scores of my own to settle with Mr. JohnClay, " said Holmes. "I have been at some small expense over this matter, which I shall expect the bank to refund, but beyond that I am amply repaidby having had an experience which is in many ways unique, and by hearingthe very remarkable narrative of the Red-headed League. "

 * * * * *

"You see, Watson, " he explained, in the early hours of the morning, as wesat over a glass of whisky and soda in Baker Street, "it was perfectlyobvious from the first that the only possible object of this ratherfantastic business of the advertisement of the League, and the copying ofthe 'Encyclopædia, ' must be to get this not over-bright pawnbroker out ofthe way for a number of hours every day. It was a curious way of managingit, but really it would be difficult to suggest a better. The method wasno doubt suggested to Clay's ingenious mind by the color of hisaccomplice's hair. The four pounds a week was a lure which must draw him, and what was it to them, who were playing for thousands? They put in theadvertisement, one rogue has the temporary office, the other rogue incitesthe man to apply for it, and together they manage to secure his absenceevery morning in the week. From the time that I heard of the assistanthaving come for half wages, it was obvious to me that he had some strongmotive for securing the situation. "

"But how could you guess what the motive was?"

"Had there been women in the house, I should have suspected a mere vulgarintrigue. That, however, was out of the question. The man's business was asmall one, and there was nothing in his house which could account for suchelaborate preparations, and such an expenditure as they were at. It mustthen be something out of the house. What could it be? I thought of theassistant's fondness for photography, and his trick of vanishing into thecellar. The cellar! There was the end of this tangled clew. Then I madeinquiries as to this mysterious assistant, and found that I had to dealwith one of the coolest and most daring criminals in London. He was doingsomething in the cellar--something which took many hours a day for monthson end. What could it be, once more? I could think of nothing save that hewas running a tunnel to some other building. 

"So far I had got when we went to visit the scene of action. I surprisedyou by beating upon the pavement with my stick. I was ascertaining whetherthe cellar stretched out in front or behind. It was not in front. Then Irang the bell, and, as I hoped, the assistant answered it. We have hadsome skirmishes, but we had never set eyes upon each other before. Ihardly looked at his face. His knees were what I wished to see. You mustyourself have remarked how worn, wrinkled, and stained they were. Theyspoke of those hours of burrowing. The only remaining point was what theywere burrowing for. I walked round the corner, saw that the City andSuburban Bank abutted on our friend's premises, and felt that I had solvedmy problem. When you drove home after the concert I called upon ScotlandYard, and upon the chairman of the bank directors, with the result thatyou have seen. "

"And how could you tell that they would make their attempt to-night?" Iasked. 

"Well, when they closed their League offices that was a sign that theycared no longer about Mr. Jabez Wilson's presence; in other words, thatthey had completed their tunnel. But it was essential that they should useit soon, as it might be discovered, or the bullion might be removed. Saturday would suit them better than any other day, as it would give themtwo days for their escape. For all these reasons I expected them to cometo-night. "

"You reasoned it out beautifully, " I exclaimed, in unfeigned admiration. "It is so long a chain, and yet every link rings true. "

"It saved me from ennui, " he answered, yawning. "Alas! I already feel itclosing in upon me. My life is spent in one long effort to escape from thecommonplaces of existence. These little problems help me to do so. "

"And you are a benefactor of the race, " said I. He shrugged his shoulders. "Well, perhaps, after all, it is of some little use, " he remarked. "'L'homme c'est rien--l'oeuvre c'est tout, ' as Gustave Flaubert wrote toGeorges Sands. "

Egerton Castle

_The Baron's Quarry_

"Oh, no, I assure you, you are not boring Mr. Marshfield, " said thispersonage himself in his gentle voice--that curious voice that could flowon for hours, promulgating profound and startling theories on everydepartment of human knowledge or conducting paradoxical arguments withouta single inflection or pause of hesitation. "I am, on the contrary, muchinterested in your hunting talk. To paraphrase a well-worn quotationsomewhat widely, _nihil humanum a me alienum est_. Even hunting storiesmay have their point of biological interest; the philologist sometimespricks his ear to the jargon of the chase; moreover, I am not incapable ofappreciating the subject matter itself. This seems to excite somederision. I admit I am not much of a sportsman to look at, nor, indeed, byinstinct, yet I have had some out-of-the-way experiences in thatline--generally when intent on other pursuits. I doubt, for instance, ifeven you, Major Travers, notwithstanding your well-known exploits againstman and beast, notwithstanding that doubtful smile of yours, could matchthe strangeness of a certain hunting adventure in which I played animportant part. "

The speaker's small, deep-set, black eyes, that never warmed to anythingmore human than a purely speculative scientific interest in hissurroundings, here wandered round the skeptical yet expectant circle withbland amusement. He stretched out his bloodless fingers for another of hishost's superfine cigars and proceeded, with only such interruptions aswere occasioned by the lighting and careful smoking of the latter. 

"I was returning home after my prolonged stay in Petersburg, intending tolinger on my way and test with mine own ears certain among the manydialects of Eastern Europe--anent which there is a symmetrical littlecluster of philological knotty points it is my modest intention one day tounravel. However, that is neither here nor there. On the road to Hungary Ibethought myself opportunely of proving the once pressingly offeredhospitality of the Baron Kossowski. 

"You may have met the man, Major Travers; he was a tremendous sportsman, if you like. I first came across him at McNeil's place in remote Ireland. Now, being in Bukowina, within measurable distance of his Carpathianabode, and curious to see a Polish lord at home, I remembered hisinvitation. It was already of long standing, but it had been warm, born infact of a sudden fit of enthusiasm for me"--here a half-mocking smilequivered an instant under the speaker's black mustache--"which, as it wascharacteristic, I may as well tell you about. 

"It was on the day of, or, rather, to be accurate, on the day after myarrival, toward the small hours of the morning, in the smoking room atRathdrum. Our host was peacefully snoring over his empty pipe and hisseventh glass of whisky, also empty. The rest of the men had slunk off tobed. The baron, who all unknown to himself had been a subject of mostinteresting observation to me the whole evening, being now practicallyalone with me, condescended to turn an eye, as wide awake as a fox's, albeit slightly bloodshot, upon the contemptible white-faced person whohad preferred spending the raw hours over his papers, within the radius ofa glorious fire's warmth, to creeping slyly over treacherous quagmires inthe pursuit of timid bog creatures (snipe shooting had been the order ofthe day)-the baron, I say, became aware of my existence and entered intoconversation with me. 

"He would no doubt have been much surprised could he have known that hewas already mapped out, craniologically and physiognomically, cataloguedwith care and neatly laid by in his proper ethnological box, in my privatetype museum; that, as I sat and examined him from my different coigns ofvantage in library, in dining and smoking room that evening, not a look ofhis, not a gesture went forth but had significance for me. 

"You, I had thought, with your broad shoulders and deep chest; yourmassive head that should have gone with a tall stature, not with thoseshort sturdy limbs; with your thick red hair, that should have been blackfor that matter, as should your wide-set yellow eyes--you would be a realpuzzle to one who did not recognize in you equal mixtures of the fair, stalwart and muscular Slav with the bilious-sanguine, thick-set, wiryTuranian. Your pedigree would no doubt bear me out: there is as much ofthe Magyar as of the Pole in your anatomy. Athlete, and yet a tangle ofnerves; a ferocious brute at bottom, I dare say, for your broad foreheadinclines to flatness; under your bristling beard your jaw must protrude, and the base of your skull is ominously thick. And, with all that, capableof ideal transports: when that girl played and sang to-night I saw theswelling of your eyelid veins, and how that small, tenacious, claw-likehand of yours twitched! You would be a fine leader of men--but God helpthe wretches in your power!

"So had I mused upon him. Yet I confess that when we came in closercontact with each other, even I was not proof against the singularcourtesy of his manner and his unaccountable personal charm. 

"Our conversation soon grew interesting; to me as a matter of course, andevidently to him also. A few general words led to interchange of remarksupon the country we were both visitors in and so to nationalcharacteristics--Pole and Irishman have not a few in common, both in theirnature and history. An observation which he made, not without a certainflash in his light eyes and a transient uncovering of the teeth, on theIrish type of female beauty suddenly suggested to me a stanza of anancient Polish ballad, very full of milk-and-blood imagery, of alternatingferocity and voluptuousness. This I quoted to the astounded foreigner inthe vernacular, and this it was that metamorphosed his mere perfection ofcivility into sudden warmth, and, in fact, procured me the invitation inquestion. 

"When I left Rathdrum the baron's last words to me were that if I everthought of visiting his country otherwise than in books, he held me boundto make Yany, his Galician seat, my headquarters of study. 

"From Czernowicz, therefore, where I stopped some time, I wrote, receivedin due time a few lines of prettily worded reply, and ultimately enteredmy sled in the nearest town to, yet at a most forbidding distance from, Yany, and started on my journey thither. 

"The undertaking meant many long hours of undulation and skidding over theNovember snow, to the somniferous bell jangle of my dirty little horses, the only impression of interest being a weird gypsy concert I came in forat a miserable drinking-booth half buried in the snow where we halted forthe refreshment of man and beast. Here, I remember, I discovered a verydefinite connection between the characteristic run of the tsimbol, thepeculiar bite of the Zigeuner's bow on his fiddle-string, and somedistinctive points of Turanian tongues. In other countries, in Spain, forinstance, your gypsy speaks differently on his instrument. But, oddlyenough, when I later attempted to put this observation on paper I couldfind no word to express it. "

A few of our company evinced signs of sleepiness, but most of us who knewMarshfield, and that he could, unless he had something novel to say, be assilent and retiring as he now evinced signs of being copious, awaitedfurther developments with patience. He has his own deliberate way ofspeaking, which he evidently enjoys greatly, though it be occasionallytrying to his listeners. 

"On the afternoon of my second day's drive, the snow, which till then hadfallen fine and continuous, ceased, and my Jehu, suddenly interruptinghimself in the midst of some exciting wolf story quite in keeping with thetime of year and the wild surroundings, pointed to a distant spot againstthe gray sky to the northwest, between two wood-covered folds ofground--the first eastern spurs of the great Carpathian chain. 

"'There stands Yany, ' said he. I looked at my far-off goal with interest. As we drew nearer, the sinking sun, just dipping behind the hills, tingedthe now distinct frontage with a cold copper-like gleam, but it was onlyfor a minute; the next the building became nothing more to the eye than ablack irregular silhouette against the crimson sky. 

"Before we entered the long, steep avenue of poplars, the early winterdarkness was upon us, rendered all the more depressing by gray mists whichgave a ghostly aspect to such objects as the sheen of the snow renderedvisible. Once or twice there were feeble flashes of light looming iniridescent halos as we passed little clusters of hovels, but for which Ishould have been induced to fancy that the great Hof stood alone in thewilderness, such was the deathly stillness around. But even as the tall, square building rose before us above the vapor, yellow lighted in variousstories, and mighty in height and breadth, there broke upon my ear adeep-mouthed, menacing bay, which gave at once almost alarming reality tothe eerie surroundings. 'His lordship's boar and wolf hounds, ' quoth mycharioteer calmly, unmindful of the regular pandemonium, of howls andbarks which ensued as he skillfully turned his horses through the gatewayand flogged the tired beasts into a sort of shambling canter that we mightland with glory before the house door: a weakness common, I believe, todrivers of all nations. 

"I alighted in the court of honor, and while awaiting an answer to my tugat the bell, stood, broken with fatigue, depressed, chilled and aching, questioning the wisdom of my proceedings and the amount of comfort, physical and moral, that was likely to await me in a _tête-à-tête_ visitwith a well-mannered savage in his own home. 

"The unkempt tribe of stable retainers who began to gather round me and myrough vehicle in the gloom, with their evil-smelling sheepskins and theirresigned, battered visages, were not calculated to reassure me. Yet whenthe door opened, there stood a smart chasseur and a solemn major-domo whomight but just have stepped out of Mayfair; and there was displayed aspreading vista of warm, deep-colored halls, with here a statue and therea stuffed bear, and under foot pile carpets strewn with rarest skins. 

"Marveling, yet comforted withal, I followed the solemn butler, whoreceived me with the deference due to an expected guest and expressed themaster's regret for his enforced absence till dinner time. I traversedvast rooms, each more sumptuous than the last, feeling the strangeness ofthe contrast between the outer desolation and this sybaritic excess ofluxury growing ever more strongly upon me; caught a glimpse of a picturegallery, where peculiar yet admirably executed latter-day French pictureshung side by side with ferocious boar hunts of Snyder and such kin; and, at length, was ushered into a most cheerful room, modern to excess in itscomfortable promise, where, in addition to the tall stove necessary forwarmth, there burned on an open hearth a vastly pleasant fire of resinouslogs, and where, on a low table, awaited me a dainty service of fragrantRussian tea. 

"My impression of utter novelty seemed somehow enhanced by this unexpectedrefinement in the heart of the solitudes and in such a rugged shell, andyet, when I came to reflect, it was only characteristic of my cosmopolitanhost. But another surprise was in store for me. 

"When I had recovered bodily warmth and mental equilibrium in my downyarmchair, before the roaring logs, and during the delicious absorption ofmy second glass of tea, I turned my attention to the French valet, evidently the baron's own man, who was deftly unpacking my portmanteau, and who, unless my practiced eye deceived me, asked for nothing betterthan to entertain me with agreeable conversation the while. 

"'Your master is out, then?' quoth I, knowing that the most trivial remarkwould suffice to start him. 

"True, Monseigneur was out; he was desolated in despair (this with thenational amiable and imaginative instinct); 'but it was doubtlessimportant business. M. Le Baron had the visit of his factor during themidday meal; had left the table hurriedly, and had not been seen since. Madame la Baronne had been a little suffering, but she would receivemonsieur!'

"'Madame!' exclaimed I, astounded, 'is your master then married?--sincewhen?'--visions of a fair Tartar, fit mate for my baron, immediatelyspringing somewhat alluringly before my mental vision. But the answerdispelled the picturesque fancy. 

"'Oh, yes, ' said the man, with a somewhat peculiar expression. 'Yes, Monseigneur is married. Did Monsieur not know? And yet it was from Englandthat Monseigneur brought back his wife. '

"'An Englishwoman!'

"My first thought was one of pity; an Englishwoman alone in thiswilderness--two days' drive from even a railway station--and at the mercyof Kossowski! But the next minute I reversed my judgment. Probably sheadored her rufous lord, took his veneer of courtesy--a veneer of the mostexquisite polish, I grant you, but perilously thin--for the veryperfection of chivalry. Or perchance it was his inner savageness itselfthat charmed her; the most refined women often amaze one by thefascination which the preponderance of the brute in the opposite sex seemsto have for them. 

"I was anxious to hear more. 

"'Is it not dull for the lady here at this time of the year?'

"The valet raised his shoulders with a gesture of despair that was almostpassionate. 

"Dull! Ah, monsieur could not conceive to himself the dullness of it. Thatpoor Madame la Baronne! not even a little child to keep her company on thelong, long days when there was nothing but snow in the heaven and on theearth and the howling of the wind and the dogs to cheer her. At thebeginning, indeed, it had been different; when the master first broughthome his bride the house was gay enough. It was all redecorated andrefurnished to receive her (monsieur should have seen it before, a mere_rendezvous-de-chasse_--for the matter of that so were all the countryhouses in these parts). Ah, that was the good time! There were visitsmonth after month; parties, sleighing, dancing, trips to St. Petersburgand Vienna. But this year it seemed they were to have nothing but boarsand wolves. How madame could stand it--well, it was not for him tospeak--and heaving a deep sigh he delicately inserted my white tie roundmy collar, and with a flourish twisted it into an irreproachable bowbeneath my chin. I did not think it right to cross-examine the willingtalker any further, especially as, despite his last asseveration, therewere evidently volumes he still wished to pour forth; but I confess that, as I made my way slowly out of my room along the noiseless length ofpassage, I was conscious of an unwonted, not to say vulgar, curiosityconcerning the woman who had captivated such a man as the Baron Kossowski. 

"In a fit of speculative abstraction I must have taken the wrong turning, for I presently found myself in a long, narrow passage. I did notremember. I was retracing my steps when there came the sound of rapidfootfalls upon stone flags; a little door flew open in the wall close tome, and a small, thick-set man, huddled in the rough sheepskin of theGalician peasant, with a mangy fur cap on his head, nearly ran headlonginto my arms. I was about condescendingly to interpellate him in my bestPolish, when I caught the gleam of an angry yellow eye and noted thebristle of a red beard--Kossowski!

"Amazed, I fell back a step in silence. With a growl like an uncouthanimal disturbed, he drew his filthy cap over his brow with a savagegesture and pursued his way down the corridor at a sort of wild-boar trot. 

"This first meeting between host and guest was so odd, so incongruous, that it afforded me plenty of food for a fresh line of conjecture as Itraced my way back to the picture gallery, and from thence successfully tothe drawing room, which, as the door was ajar, I could not this timemistake. 

"It was large and lofty and dimly lit by shaded lamps; through the rosygloom I could at first only just make out a slender figure by the hearth;but as I advanced, this was resolved into a singularly graceful woman inclinging, fur-trimmed velvet gown, who, with one hand resting on the highmantelpiece, the other hanging listlessly by her side, stood gazing downat the crumbling wood fire as if in a dream. 

"My friends are kind enough to say that I have a cat-like tread; I knownot how that may be; at any rate the carpet I was walking upon was thickenough to smother a heavier footfall: not until I was quite close to herdid my hostess become aware of my presence. Then she started violently andlooked over her shoulder at me with dilating eyes. Evidently a nervouscreature, I saw the pulse in her throat, strained by her attitude, flutterlike a terrified bird. 

"The next instant she had stretched out her hand with sweet English wordsof welcome, and the face, which I had been comparing in my mind to that ofGuido's Cenci, became transformed by the arch and exquisite smile of aGreuse. For more than two years I had had no intercourse with any of mynationality. I could conceive the sound of his native tongue under suchcircumstances moving a man in a curious unexpected fashion. 

"I babbled some commonplace reply, after which there was silence while westood opposite each other, she looking at me expectantly. At length, witha sigh checked by a smile and an overtone of sadness in a voice that yettried to be sprightly:

"'Am I then so changed, Mr. Marshfield?' she asked. And all at once I knewher: the girl whose nightingale throat had redeemed the desolation of theevenings at Rathdrum, whose sunny beauty had seemed (even to mycelebrated cold-blooded æstheticism) worthy to haunt a man's dreams. Yes, there was the subtle curve of the waist, the warm line of throat, thedainty foot, the slender tip-tilted fingers--witty fingers, as I hadclassified them--which I now shook like a true Briton, instead of availingmyself of the privilege the country gave me, and kissing her slenderwrist. 

"But she was changed; and I told her so with unconventional frankness, studying her closely as I spoke. 

"'I am afraid, ' I said gravely, 'that this place does not agree with you. '

"She shrank from my scrutiny with a nervous movement and flushed to theroots of her red-brown hair. Then she answered coldly that I was wrong, that she was in excellent health, but that she could not expect any morethan other people to preserve perennial youth (I rapidly calculated shemight be two-and-twenty), though, indeed, with a little forced laugh, itwas scarcely flattering to hear one had altered out of all recognition. Then, without allowing me time to reply, she plunged into a general topicof conversation which, as I should have been obtuse indeed not to take thehint, I did my best to keep up. 

"But while she talked of Vienna and Warsaw, of her distant neighbors, andlast year's visitors, it was evident that her mind was elsewhere; her eyewandered, she lost the thread of her discourse, answered me at random, andsmiled her piteous smile incongruously. 

"However lonely she might be in her solitary splendor, the company of acountryman was evidently no such welcome diversion. 

"After a little while she seemed to feel herself that she was lacking incordiality, and, bringing her absent gaze to bear upon me with a puzzledstrained look: 'I fear you will find it very dull, ' she said, 'my husbandis so wrapped up this winter in his country life and his sport. You arethe first visitor we have had. There is nothing but guns and horses here, and you do not care for these things. '

"The door creaked behind us; and the baron entered, in faultless eveningdress. Before she turned toward him I was sharp enough to catch again theupleaping of a quick dread in her eyes, not even so much dread perhaps, Ithought afterwards, as horror--the horror we notice in some animals at thenearing of a beast of prey. It was gone in a second, and she was smiling. But it was a revelation. 

"Perhaps he beat her in Russian fashion, and she, as an Englishwoman, wasnarrow-minded enough to resent this; or perhaps, merely, I had themisfortune to arrive during a matrimonial misunderstanding. 

"The baron would not give me leisure to reflect; he was so very effusivein his greeting--not a hint of our previous meeting--unlike my hostess, all in all to me; eager to listen, to reply; almost affectionate, full ofreferences to old times and genial allusions. No doubt when he chose hecould be the most charming of men; there were moments when, looking at himin his quiet smile and restrained gesture, the almost exaggeratedpoliteness of his manner to his wife, whose fingers he had kissed withpretty, old-fashioned gallantry upon his entrance, I asked myself, Couldthat encounter in the passage have been a dream? Could that savage in thesheepskin be my courteous entertainer?

"Just as I came in, did I hear my wife say there was nothing for you to doin this place?" he said presently to me. Then, turning to her:

"You do not seem to know Mr. Marshfield. Wherever he can open his eyesthere is for him something to see which might not interest other men. Hewill find things in my library which I have no notion of. He will discoverobjects for scientific observation in all the members of my household, notonly in the good-looking maids--though he could, I have no doubt, telltheir points as I could those of a horse. We have maidens here of severaldistinct races, Marshfield. We have also witches, and Jew leeches, andholy daft people. In any case, Yany, with all its dependencies, material, male and female, are at your disposal, for what you can make out of them. 

"'It is good, " he went on gayly, 'that you should happen to have thishappy disposition, for I fear that, no later than to-morrow, I may have toabsent myself from home. I have heard that there are news of wolves--theythreaten to be a greater pest than usual this winter, but I am going todrive them on quite a new plan, and it will go hard with me if I don'tcome even with them. Well for you, by the way, Marshfield, that you didnot pass within their scent to-day. ' Then, musingly: 'I should not givemuch for the life of a traveler who happened to wander in these parts justnow. ' Here he interrupted himself hastily and went over to his wife, whohad sunk back on her chair, livid, seemingly on the point of swooning. 

"His gaze was devouring; so might a man look at the woman he adored, inhis anxiety. 

"'What! faint, Violet, alarmed!' His voice was subdued, yet there was anunmistakable thrill of emotion in it. 

"'Pshaw!' thought I to myself, 'the man is a model husband. '

"She clinched her hands, and by sheer force of will seemed to pull herselftogether. These nervous women have often an unexpected fund of strength. 

"'Come, that is well, ' said the baron with a flickering smile; 'Mr. Marshfield will think you but badly acclimatized to Poland if a littlewolf scare can upset you. My dear wife is so soft-hearted, ' he went on tome, 'that she is capable of making herself quite ill over the sad fatethat might have, but has not, overcome you. Or, perhaps, ' he added, in astill gentler voice, 'her fear is that I may expose myself to danger forthe public weal. '

"She turned her head away, but I saw her set her teeth as if to choke asob. The baron chuckled in his throat and seemed to luxuriate in thepleasant thought. 

"At this moment folding doors were thrown open, and supper was announced. I offered my arm, she rose and took it in silence. This silence shemaintained during the first part of the meal, despite her husband'sbrilliant conversation and almost uproarious spirits. But by and by abright color mounted to her cheeks and luster to her eyes. I suppose youwill think me horribly unpoetical if I add that she drank several glassesof champagne one after the other, a fact which perhaps may account for thechange. 

"At any rate she spoke and laughed and looked lovely, and I did not wonderthat the baron could hardly keep his eyes off her. But whether it was herwifely anxiety or not--it was evident her mind was not at ease through itall, and I fancied that her brightness was feverish, her merrimentslightly hysterical. 

"After supper--an exquisite one it was--we adjourned together, in foreignfashion, to the drawing-room; the baron threw himself into a chair and, somewhat with the air of a pasha, demanded music. He was flushed; theveins of his forehead were swollen and stood out like cords; the winedrunk at table was potent: even through my phlegmatic frame it ran hotly. 

"She hesitated a moment or two, then docilely sat down to the piano. Thatshe could sing I have already made clear: how she could sing, with whatpathos, passion, as well as perfect art, I had never realized before. 

"When the song was ended she remained for a while, with eyes lost indistance, very still, save for her quick breathing. It was clear she wasmoved by the music; indeed she must have thrown her whole soul into it. 

"At first we, the audience, paid her the rare compliment of silence. Thenthe baron broke forth into loud applause. 'Brava, brava! that was reallysaid _con amore_. A delicious love song, delicious--but French! You mustsing one of our Slav melodies for Marshfield before you allow us to go andsmoke. '

"She started from her reverie with a flush, and after a pause struckslowly a few simple chords, then began one of those strangely sweet, yetintensely pathetic Russian airs, which give one a curious revelation ofthe profound, endless melancholy lurking in the national mind. 

"'What do you think of it?' asked the baron of me when it ceased. 

"'What I have always thought of such music--it is that of a hopelesspeople; poetical, crushed, and resigned. '

"He gave a loud laugh. 'Hear the analyst, the psychologue--why, man, it isa love song! Is it possible that we, uncivilized, are truer realists thanour hypercultured Western neighbors? Have we gone to the root of thematter, in our simple way?'

"The baroness got up abruptly. She looked white and spent; there werebister circles round her eyes. 

"'I am tired, ' she said, with dry lips. 'You will excuse me, Mr. Marshfield, I must really go to bed. '

"'Go to bed, go to bed, ' cried her husband gayly. Then, quoting in Russianfrom the song she had just sung: 'Sleep, my little soft white dove: mylittle innocent tender lamb!' She hurried from the room. The baron laughedagain, and, taking me familiarly by the arm, led me to his own set ofapartments for the promised smoke. He ensconced me in an armchair, placedcigars of every description and a Turkish pipe ready to my hand, and alittle table on which stood cut-glass flasks and beakers in temptingarray. 

"After I had selected my cigar with some precautions, I glanced at himover a careless remark, and was startled to see a sudden alteration in hiswhole look and attitude. 

"'You will forgive me, Marshfield, ' he said, as he caught my eye, speakingwith spasmodic politeness. 'It is more than probable that I shall have toset out upon this chase I spoke of to-night, and I must now go and changemy clothes, that I may be ready to start at any moment. This is the hourwhen it is most likely these hell beasts are to be got at. You have allyou want, I hope, ' interrupting an outbreak of ferocity by an effort afterhis former courtesy. 

"It was curious to watch the man of the world struggling with theprimitive man. 

"'But, baron, ' said I, 'I do not at all see the fun of sticking at homelike this. You know my passion for witnessing everything new, strange, andoutlandish. You will surely not refuse me such an opportunity forobservation as a midnight wolf raid. I will do my best not to be in theway if you will take me with you. '

"At first it seemed as if he had some difficulty in realizing the drift ofmy words, he was so engrossed by some inner thought. But as I repeatedthem, he gave vent to a loud cachinnation. 

"'By heaven! I like your spirit, ' he exclaimed, clapping me strongly onthe shoulder. 'Of course you shall come. You shall, ' he repeated, 'and Ipromise you a sight, a hunt such as you never heard or dreamed of--youwill be able to tell them in England the sort of thing we can do here inthat line--such wolves are rare quarry, ' he added, looking slyly at me, 'and I have a new plan for getting at them. '

"There was a long pause, and then there rose in the stillness theunearthly howling of the baron's hounds, a cheerful sound which only theirowner's somewhat loud converse of the evening had kept from becomingexcessively obtrusive. 

"'Hark at them--the beauties!' cried he, showing his short, strong teeth, pointed like a dog's in a wide grin of anticipative delight. 'They havebeen kept on pretty short commons, poor things! They are hungry. By theway, Marshfield, you can sit tight to a horse, I trust? If you were toroll off, you know, these splendid fellows--they would chop you up in asecond. They would chop you up, ' he repeated unctuously, 'snap, crunch, gobble, and there would be an end of you!'

"'If I could not ride a decent horse without being thrown, ' I retorted, alittle stung by his manner, 'after my recent three months' torture withthe Guard Cossacks, I should indeed be a hopeless subject. Do not think offrightening me from the exploit, but say frankly if my company would bedispleasing. '

"'Tut!' he said, waving his hand impatiently, 'it is your affair. I havewarned you. Go and get ready if you want to come. Time presses. '

"I was determined to be of the fray; my blood was up. I have hinted thatthe baron's Tokay had stirred it. 

"I went to my room and hurriedly donned clothes more suitable for roughnight work. My last care was to slip into my pockets a brace ofdouble-barreled pistols which formed part of my traveling kit. When Ireturned I found the baron already booted and spurred; this withoutmetaphor. He was stretched full length on the divan, and did not speak asI came in, or even look at me. Chewing an unlit cigar, with eyes fixed onthe ceiling, he was evidently following some absorbing train of ideas. 

"The silence was profound; time went by; it grew oppressive; at length, wearied out, I fell, over my chibouque, into a doze filled with puzzlingvisions, out of which I was awakened with a start. My companion had sprungup, very lightly, to his feet. In his throat was an odd, half-suppressedcry, grewsome to hear. He stood on tiptoe, with eyes fixed, as thoughlooking through the wall, and I distinctly saw his ears point in theintensity of his listening. 

"After a moment, with hasty, noiseless energy, and without the slightestceremony, he blew the lamps out, drew back the heavy curtains and threwthe tall window wide open. A rush of icy air, and the bright rays of themoon--gibbous, I remember, in her third quarter--filled the room. Outsidethe mist had condensed, and the view was unrestricted over the whiteplains at the foot of the hill. 

"The baron stood motionless in the open window, callous to the cold inwhich, after a minute, I could hardly keep my teeth from chattering, hishead bent forward, still listening. I listened too, with 'all my ears, 'but could not catch a sound; indeed the silence over the great expanse ofsnow might have been called awful; even the dogs were mute. 

"Presently, far, far away, came a faint tinkle of bells; so faint, atfirst, that I thought it was but fancy, then distincter. It was even moreeerie than the silence, I thought, though I knew it could come but fromsome passing sleigh. All at once that ceased, and again my duller sensescould perceive nothing, though I saw by my host's craning neck that he wasmore on the alert than ever. But at last I too heard once more, this timenot bells, but as it were the tread of horses muffled by the snow, intermittent and dull, yet drawing nearer. And then in the inner silenceof the great house it seemed to me I caught the noise of closing doors;but here the hounds, as if suddenly becoming alive to some disturbance, raised the same fearsome concert of yells and barks with which they hadgreeted my arrival, and listening became useless. 

"I had risen to my feet. My host, turning from the window, seized myshoulder with a fierce grip, and bade me 'hold my noise'; for a second ortwo I stood motionless under his iron talons, then he released me with anexultant whisper: "Now for our chase!" and made for the door with aspring. Hastily gulping down a mouthful of arrack from one of the bottleson the table, I followed him, and, guided by the sound of his footstepsbefore me, groped my way through passages as black as Erebus. 

"After a time, which seemed a long one, a small door was flung open infront, and I saw Kossowski glide into the moonlit courtyard and cross thesquare. When I too came out he was disappearing into the gaping darknessof the open stable door, and there I overtook him. 

"A man who seemed to have been sleeping in a corner jumped up at ourentrance, and led out a horse ready saddled. In obedience to a gruff orderfrom his master, as the latter mounted, he then brought forward anotherwhich he had evidently thought to ride himself and held the stirrup forme. 

"We came delicately forth, and the Cossack hurriedly barred the great doorbehind us. I caught a glimpse of his worn, scarred face by the moonlight, as he peeped after us for a second before shutting himself in; it wasstricken with terror. 

"The baron trotted briskly toward the kennels, from whence there was nowissuing a truly infernal clangor, and, as my steed followed suit of hisown accord, I could see how he proceeded dexterously to unbolt the gateswithout dismounting, while the beasts within dashed themselves againstthem and tore the ground in their fury of impatience. 

"He smiled, as he swung back the barriers at last, and his 'beauties' cameforth. Seven or eight monstrous brutes, hounds of a kind unknown to me:fulvous and sleek of coat, tall on their legs, square-headed, long-tailed, deep-chested; with terrible jaws slobbering in eagerness. They leapedaround and up at us, much to our horses' distaste. Kossowski, stillsmiling, lashed at them unsparingly with his hunting whip, and theyresponded, not with yells of pain, but with snarls of fury. 

"Managing his restless steed and his cruel whip with consummate ease, myhost drove the unruly crew before him out of the precincts, then haltedand bent down from his saddle to examine some slight prints in the snowwhich led, not the way I had come, but toward what seemed another avenue. In a second or two the hounds were gathered round this spot, their greatsnake-like tails quivering, nose to earth, yelping with excitement. I hadsome ado to manage my horse, and my eyesight was far from being as keen asthe baron's, but I had then no doubt he had come already upon wolf tracks, and I shuddered mentally, thinking of the sleigh bells. 

"Suddenly Kossowski raised himself from his strained position; under hislow fur cap his face, with its fixed smile, looked scarcely human in thewhite light: and then we broke into a hand canter just as the houndsdashed, in a compact body, along the trail. 

"But we had not gone more than a few hundred yards before they began tofalter, then straggled, stopped and ran back and about with dismal cries. It was clear to me they had lost the scent. My companion reined in hishorse, and mine, luckily a well-trained brute, halted of himself. 

"We had reached a bend in a broad avenue of firs and larches, and justwhere we stood, and where the hounds ever returned and met nose to nose infrantic conclave, the snow was trampled and soiled, and a little fartheron planed in a great sweep, as if by a turning sleigh. Beyond was adouble-furrowed track of skaits and regular hoof prints leading far away. 

"Before I had time to reflect upon the bearing of this unexpectedinterruption, Kossowski, as if suddenly possessed by a devil, fell uponthe hounds with his whip, flogging them upon the new track, uttering thewhile the most savage cries I have ever heard issue from human throat. Thedisappointed beasts were nothing loath to seize upon another trail; aftera second of hesitation they had understood, and were off upon it at atearing pace, we after them at the best speed of our horses. 

"Some unformed idea that we were going to escort, or rescue, benightedtravelers flickered dimly in my mind as I galloped through the night air;but when I managed to approach my companion and called out to him forexplanation, he only turned half round and grinned at me. 

"Before us lay now the white plain, scintillating under the high moon'srays. That light is deceptive; I could be sure of nothing upon the wideexpanse but of the dark, leaping figures of the hounds already spread outin a straggling line, some right ahead, others just in front of us. In ashort time also the icy wind, cutting my face mercilessly as we increasedour pace, well nigh blinded me with tears of cold. 

"I can hardly realize how long this pursuit after an unseen prey lasted; Ican only remember that I was getting rather faint with fatigue, andignominiously held on to my pommel, when all of a sudden the black outlineof a sleigh merged into sight in front of us. 

"I rubbed my smarting eyes with my benumbed hand; we were gaining upon itsecond by second; two of those hell hounds of the baron's were alreadywithin a few leaps of it. 

"Soon I was able to make out two figures, one standing up and urging thehorses on with whip and voice, the other clinging to the back seat andlooking toward us in an attitude of terror. A great fear crept into myhalf-frozen brain--were we not bringing deadly danger instead of help tothese travelers? Great God! did the baron mean to use them as a bait forhis new method of wolf hunting?

"I would have turned upon Kossowski with a cry of expostulation orwarning, but he, urging on his hounds as he galloped on their flank, howling and gesticulating like a veritable Hun, passed me by like aflash--and all at once I knew. "

Marshfield paused for a moment and sent his pale smile round upon hislisteners, who now showed no signs of sleepiness; he knocked the ash fromhis cigar, twisted the latter round in his mouth, and added dryly:

"And I confess it seemed to me a little strong even for a baron in theCarpathians. The travelers were our quarry. But the reason why the Lord ofYany had turned man-hunter I was yet to learn. Just then I had to directmy energies to frustrating his plans. I used my spurs mercilessly. While Idrew up even with him I saw the two figures in the sleigh change places;he who had hitherto driven now faced back, while his companion took thereins, there was the pale blue sheen of a revolver barrel under themoonlight, followed by a yellow flash, and the nearest hound rolled overin the snow. 

"With an oath the baron twisted round in his saddle to call up and urge onthe remainder. My horse had taken fright at the report and dashedirresistibly forward, bringing me at once almost level with the fugitives, and the next instant the revolver was turned menacingly toward me. Therewas no time to explain; my pistol was already drawn, and as another of thebrutes bounded up, almost under my horse's feet, I loosed it upon him. Imust have let off both barrels at once, for the weapon flew out of myhand, but the hound's back was broken. I presume the traveler understood;at any rate, he did not fire at me. 

"In moments of intense excitement like these, strangely enough, the mindis extraordinarily open to impressions. I shall never forget that man'scountenance in the sledge, as he stood upright and defied us in his mortaldanger; it was young, very handsome, the features not distorted, but setinto a sort of desperate, stony calm, and I knew it, beyond all doubt, forthat of an Englishman. And then I saw his companion--it was the baron'swife. And I understood why the bells had been removed. 

"It takes a long time to say this; it only required an instant to see it. The loud explosion of my pistol had hardly ceased to ring before thebaron, with a fearful imprecation, was upon me. First he lashed at me withhis whip as we tore along side by side, and then I saw him wind the reinsround his off arm and bend over, and I felt his angry fingers closetightly on my right foot. The next instant I should have been lifted outof my saddle, but there came another shot from the sledge. The baron'shorse plunged and stumbled, and the baron, hanging on to my foot with afierce grip, was wrenched from his seat. His horse, however, was up againimmediately, and I was released, and then I caught a confused glimpse ofthe frightened and wounded animal galloping wildly away to the right, leaving a black track of blood behind him in the snow, his master, entangled in the reins, running with incredible swiftness by his side andendeavoring to vault back into the saddle. 

"And now came to pass a terrible thing which, in his savage plans, my hosthad doubtless never anticipated. 

"One of the hounds that had during this short check recovered lost ground, coming across this hot trail of blood, turned away from his course, andwith a joyous yell darted after the running man. In another instant theremainder of the pack was upon the new scent. 

"As soon as I could stop my horse, I tried to turn him in the directionthe new chase had taken, but just then, through the night air, over thereceding sound of the horse's scamper and the sobbing of the pack in fullcry, there came a long scream, and after that a sickening silence. And Iknew that somewhere yonder, under the beautiful moonlight, the BaronKossowski was being devoured by his starving dogs. 

"I looked round, with the sweat on my face, vaguely, for some human beingto share the horror of the moment, and I saw, gliding away, far away inthe white distance, the black silhouette of the sledge. "

"Well?" said we, in divers tones of impatience, curiosity, or horror, according to our divers temperaments, as the speaker uncrossed his legsand gazed at us in mild triumph, with all the air of having said his say, and satisfactorily proved his point. 

"Well, " repeated he, "what more do you want to know? It will interest youbut slightly, I am sure, to hear how I found my way back to the Hof; orhow I told as much as I deemed prudent of the evening's grewsome work tothe baron's servants, who, by the way, to my amazement, displayed theprofoundest and most unmistakable sorrow at the tidings, and sallied forth(at their head the Cossack who had seen us depart) to seek for hisremains. Excuse the unpleasantness of the remark: I fear the dogs musthave left very little of him, he had dieted them so carefully. However, since it was to have been a case of 'chop, crunch, and gobble, ' as thebaron had it, I preferred that that particular fate should have overtakenhim rather than me--or, for that matter, either of those two countrypeople of ours in the sledge. 

"Nor am I going to inflict upon you, " continued Marshfield, after draininghis glass, "a full account of my impressions when I found myself once morein that immense, deserted, and stricken house, so luxuriously prepared forthe mistress who had fled from it; how I philosophized over all this, according to my wont; the conjectures I made as to the first acts of thedrama; the untold sufferings my countrywoman must have endured from themoment her husband first grew jealous till she determined on thisdesperate step; as to how and when she had met her lover, how theycommunicated, and how the baron had discovered the intended flitting intime to concoct his characteristic revenge. 

"One thing you may be sure of, I had no mind to remain at Yany an hourlonger than necessary. I even contrived to get well clear of theneighborhood before the lady's absence was discovered. Luckily for me--orI might have been taxed with connivance, though indeed the simplehousehold did not seem to know what suspicion was, and accepted my accountwith childlike credence--very typical, and very convenient to me at thesame time. "

"But how do you know, " said one of us, "that the man was her lover? Hemight have been her brother or some other relative. "

"That, " said Marshfield, with his little flat laugh, "I happen to haveascertained--and, curiously enough, only a few weeks ago. It was at theplay, between the acts, from my comfortable seat (the first row in thepit). I was looking leisurely round the house when I caught sight of awoman, in a box close by, whose head was turned from me, and who presentedthe somewhat unusual spectacle of a young neck and shoulders of the mostexquisite contour--and perfectly gray hair; and not dull gray, but ratherof a pleasing tint like frosted silver. This aroused my curiosity. Ibrought my glasses to a focus on her and waited patiently till she turnedround. Then I recognized the Baroness Kassowski, and I no longer wonderedat the young hair being white. 

"Yet she looked placid and happy; strangely so, it seemed to me, under thesudden reviving in my memory of such scenes as I have now described. Butpresently I understood further: beside her, in close attendance, was theman of the sledge, a handsome fellow with much of a military air abouthim. 

"During the course of the evening, as I watched, I saw a friend of minecome into the box, and at the end I slipped out into the passage to catchhim as he came out. 

"'Who is the woman with the white hair?' I asked. Then, in the fragmentarystyle approved of by ultra-fashionable young men--this earnest-languidmode of speech presents curious similarities in all languages--he told me:'Most charming couple in London--awfully pretty, wasn't she?--he had beenin the Guards--attaché at Vienna once--they adored each other. White hair, devilish queer, wasn't it? Suited her, somehow. And then she had beenmarried to a Russian, or something, somewhere in the wilds, and theirnames were--' But do you know, " said Marshfield, interrupting himself, "Ithink I had better let you find that out for yourselves, if you care. "

Stanley J. Weyman

_The Fowl in the Pot_

_An Episode Adapted from the Memoirs of Maximilian de Bethune, Duke ofSully_

What I am going to relate may seem to some merely to be curious and on aparty with the diverting story of M. Boisrosé, which I have set down in anearlier part of my memoirs. But among the calumnies of those who havenever ceased to attack me since the death of the late king, the statementthat I kept from his majesty things which should have reached his ears hasalways had a prominent place, though a thousand times refuted by myfriends, and those who from an intimate acquaintance with events couldjudge how faithfully I labored to deserve the confidence with which mymaster honored me. Therefore, I take it in hand to show by an example, trifling in itself, the full knowledge of affairs which the king had, andto prove that in many matters, which were never permitted to become knownto the idlers of the court, he took a personal share, worthy as much ofHaroun as of Alexander. 

It was my custom, before I entered upon those negotiations with the Princeof Condé which terminated in the recovery of the estate of Villebon, whereI now principally reside, to spend a part of the autumn and winter atRosny. On these occasions I was in the habit of leaving Paris with aconsiderable train of Swiss, pages, valets, and grooms, together with themaids of honor and waiting women of the duchess. We halted to take dinnerat Poissy, and generally contrived to reach Rosny toward nightfall, so asto sup by the light of flambeaux in a manner enjoyable enough, thoughdevoid of that state which I have ever maintained, and enjoined upon mychildren, as at once the privilege and burden of rank. 

At the time of which I am speaking I had for my favorite charger thesorrel horse which the Duke of Mercoeur presented to me with a view to mygood offices at the time of the king's entry into Paris; and which Ihonestly transferred to his majesty in accordance with a principle laiddown in another place. The king insisted on returning it to me, and forseveral years I rode it on these annual visits to Rosny. What was moreremarkable was that on each of these occasions it cast a shoe about themiddle of the afternoon, and always when we were within a short league ofthe village of Aubergenville. Though I never had with me less than half ascore of led horses, I had such an affection for the sorrel that Ipreferred to wait until it was shod, rather than accommodate myself to anag of less easy paces; and would allow my household to precede me, staying behind myself with at most a guard or two, my valet, and a page. 

The forge at Aubergenville was kept by a smith of some skill, a cheerfulfellow, whom I always remembered to reward, considering my own positionrather than his services, with a gold livre. His joy at receiving what wasto him the income of a year was great, and never failed to reimburse me;in addition to which I took some pleasure in unbending, and learning fromthis simple peasant and loyal man, what the taxpayers were saying of meand my reforms--a duty I always felt I owed to the king my master. 

As a man of breeding it would ill become me to set down the homely truthsI thus learned. The conversations of the vulgar are little suited to anobleman's memoirs; but in this I distinguish between the Duke of Sullyand the king's minister, and it is in the latter capacity that I relatewhat passed on these diverting occasions. "Ho, Simon, " I would say, encouraging the poor man as he came bowing and trembling before me, "howgoes it, my friend?"

"Badly, " he would answer, "very badly until your lordship came this way. "

"And how is that, little man?"

"Oh, it is the roads, " he always replied, shaking his bald head as hebegan to set about his business. "The roads since your lordship becamesurveyor-general are so good that not one horse in a hundred casts a shoe;and then there are so few highwaymen now that not one robber's plates do Ireplace in a twelvemonth. There is where it is. "

At this I was highly delighted. 

"Still, since I began to pass this way times have not been so bad withyou, Simon, " I would answer. 

Thereto he had one invariable reply. 

"No; thanks to Ste. Geneviève and your lordship, whom we call in thisvillage the poor man's friend, I have a fowl in the pot. "

This phrase so pleased me that I repeated it to the king. It tickled hisfancy also, and for some years it was a very common remark of that goodand great ruler, that he hoped to live to see every peasant with a fowl inhis pot. 

"But why, " I remember I once asked this honest fellow--it was on the lastoccasion of the sorrel falling lame there--"do you thank Ste. Geneviève?"

"She is my patron saint, " he answered. 

"Then you are a Parisian?"

"Your lordship is always right. "

"But does her saintship do you any good?" I asked curiously. 

"Certainly, by your lordship's leave. My wife prays to her and she loosensthe nails in the sorrel's shoes. "

"In fact she pays off an old grudge, " I answered, "for there was a timewhen Paris liked me little; but hark ye, master smith, I am not sure thatthis is not an act of treason to conspire with Madame Geneviève againstthe comfort of the king's minister. What think you, you rascal; can youpass the justice elm without a shiver?"

This threw the simple fellow into a great fear, which the sight of thelivre of gold speedily converted into joy as stupendous. Leaving him stillstaring at his fortune I rode away; but when we had gone some littledistance, the aspect of his face, when I charged him with treason, or myown unassisted discrimination suggested a clew to the phenomenon. 

"La Trape, " I said to my valet--the same who was with me at Cahors--"whatis the name of the innkeeper at Poissy, at whose house we are accustomedto dine?"

"Andrew, may it please your lordship. "

"Andrew! I thought so!" I exclaimed, smiting my thigh. "Simon and Andrewhis brother! Answer, knave, and, if you have permitted me to be robbedthese many times, tremble for your ears. Is he not brother to the smith atAubergenville who has just shod my horse?"

La Trape professed to be ignorant on this point, but a groom who hadstayed behind with me, having sought my permission to speak, said it wasso, adding that Master Andrew had risen in the world through largedealings in hay, which he was wont to take daily into Paris and sell, andthat he did not now acknowledge or see anything of his brother the smith, though it was believed that he retained a sneaking liking for him. 

On receiving this confirmation of my suspicions, my vanity as well as mysense of justice led me to act with the promptitude which I have exhibitedin greater emergencies. I rated La Trape for his carelessness of myinterests in permitting this deception to be practiced on me; and the mainbody of my attendants being now in sight, I ordered him to take two Swissand arrest both brothers without delay. It wanted yet three hours ofsunset, and I judged that, by hard riding, they might reach Rosny withtheir prisoners before bedtime. 

I spent some time while still on the road in considering what punishment Ishould inflict on the culprits; and finally laid aside the purpose I hadat first conceived of putting them to death--an infliction they had richlydeserved--in favor of a plan which I thought might offer me someamusement. For the execution of this I depended upon Maignan, my equerry, who was a man of lively imagination, being the same who had of his ownmotion arranged and carried out the triumphal procession, in which I wasborne to Rosny after the battle of Ivry. Before I sat down to supper Igave him his directions; and as I had expected, news was brought to mewhile I was at table that the prisoners had arrived. 

Thereupon I informed the duchess and the company generally, for, as wasusual, a number of my country neighbors had come to compliment me on myreturn, that there was some sport of a rare kind on foot; and weadjourned, Maignan, followed by four pages bearing lights, leading the wayto that end of the terrace which abuts on the linden avenue. Here, a scoreof grooms holding torches aloft had been arranged in a circle so that theimpromptu theater thus formed, which Maignan had ordered with much taste, was as light as in the day. On a sloping bank at one end seats had beenplaced for those who had supped at my table, while the rest of the companyfound such places of vantage as they could; their number, indeed, amounting, with my household, to two hundred persons. In the center of theopen space a small forge fire had been kindled, the red glow of whichadded much to the strangeness of the scene; and on the anvil beside itwere ranged a number of horses' and donkeys' shoes, with a full complementof the tools used by smiths. All being ready I gave the word to bring inthe prisoners, and escorted by La Trape and six of my guards, they weremarched into the arena. In their pale and terrified faces, and the shakinglimbs which could scarce support them to their appointed stations, I readboth the consciousness of guilt and the apprehension of immediate death;it was plain that they expected nothing less. I was very willing to playwith their fears, and for some time looked at them in silence, while allwondered with lively curiosity what would ensue. I then addressed themgravely, telling the innkeeper that I knew well he had loosened each yeara shoe of my horse, in order that his brother might profit by the job ofreplacing it; and went on to reprove the smith for the ingratitude whichhad led him to return my bounty by the conception of so knavish a trick. 

Upon this they confessed their guilt, and flinging themselves upon theirknees with many tears and prayers begged for mercy. This, after a decentinterval, I permitted myself to grant. "Your lives, which are forfeited, shall be spared, " I pronounced. "But punished you must be. I thereforeordain that Simon, the smith, at once fit, nail, and properly secure apair of iron shoes to Andrew's heels, and that then Andrew, who by thattime will have picked up something of the smith's art, do the same toSimon. So will you both learn to avoid such shoeing tricks for thefuture. "

It may well be imagined that a judgment so whimsical, and so justlyadapted to the offense, charmed all save the culprits; and in a hundredways the pleasure of those present was evinced, to such a degree, indeed, that Maignan had some difficulty in restoring silence and gravity to theassemblage. This done, however, Master Andrew was taken in hand and hiswooden shoes removed. The tools of his trade were placed before the smith, who cast glances so piteous, first at his brother's feet and then at theshoes on the anvil, as again gave rise to a prodigious amount ofmerriment, my pages in particular well-nigh forgetting my presence, androlling about in a manner unpardonable at another time. However, I rebukedthem sharply, and was about to order the sentence to be carried intoeffect, when the remembrance of the many pleasant simplicities which thesmith had uttered to me, acting upon a natural disposition to mercy, whichthe most calumnious of my enemies have never questioned, induced me togive the prisoners a chance of escape. "Listen, " I said, "Simon andAndrew. Your sentence has been pronounced, and will certainly be executedunless you can avail yourself of the condition I now offer. You shall havethree minutes; if in that time either of you can make a good joke, heshall go free. If not, let a man attend to the bellows, La Trape!"

This added a fresh satisfaction to my neighbors, who were well assured nowthat I had not promised them a novel entertainment without good grounds;for the grimaces of the two knaves thus bidden to jest if they would savetheir skins, were so diverting they would have made a nun laugh. Theylooked at me with their eyes as wide as plates, and for the whole of thetime of grace never a word could they utter save howls for mercy. "Simon, "I said gravely, when the time was up, "have you a joke? No. Andrew, myfriend, have you a joke? No. Then--"

I was going on to order the sentence to be carried out, when the innkeeperflung himself again upon his knees, and cried out loudly--as much to myastonishment as to the regret of the bystanders, who were bent on seeingso strange a shoeing feat--"One word, my lord; I can give you no joke, butI can do a service, an eminent service to the king. I can disclose aconspiracy!"

I was somewhat taken aback by this sudden and public announcement. But Ihad been too long in the king's employment not to have remarked howstrangely things are brought to light. On hearing the man's wordstherefore--which were followed by a stricken silence--I looked sharply atthe faces of such of those present as it was possible to suspect, butfailed to observe any sign of confusion or dismay, or anything moreparticular than so abrupt a statement was calculated to produce. Doubtingmuch whether the man was not playing with me, I addressed him sternly, warning him to beware, lest in his anxiety to save his heels by falselyaccusing others, he should lose his head. For that if his conspiracyshould prove to be an invention of his own, I should certainly consider itmy duty to hang him forthwith. 

He heard me out, but nevertheless persisted in his story, addingdesperately, "It is a plot, my lord, to assassinate you and the king onthe same day. "

This statement struck me a blow; for I had good reason to know that atthat time the king had alienated many by his infatuation for Madame deVerneuil; while I had always to reckon firstly with all who hated him, andsecondly with all whom my pursuit of his interests injured, either inreality or appearance. I therefore immediately directed that the prisonersshould be led in close custody to the chamber adjoining my private closet, and taking the precaution to call my guards about me, since I knew notwhat attempt despair might not breed, I withdrew myself, making suchapologies to the company as the nature of the case permitted. 

I ordered Simon the smith to be first brought to me, and in the presenceof Maignan only, I severely examined him as to his knowledge of anyconspiracy. He denied, however, that he had ever heard of the mattersreferred to by his brother, and persisted so firmly in the denial that Iwas inclined to believe him. In the end he was taken out and Andrew wasbrought in. The innkeeper's demeanor was such as I have often observed inintriguers brought suddenly to book. He averred the existence of theconspiracy, and that its objects were those which he had stated. He alsooffered to give up his associates, but conditioned that he should do thisin his own way; undertaking to conduct me and one other person--but nomore, lest the alarm should be given--to a place in Paris on the followingnight, where we could hear the plotters state their plans and designs. Inthis way only, he urged, could proof positive be obtained. 

I was much startled by this proposal, and inclined to think it a trap; butfurther consideration dispelled my fears. The innkeeper had held no parleywith anyone save his guards and myself since his arrest, and could neitherhave warned his accomplices, nor acquainted them with any design theexecution of which should depend on his confession to me. I thereforeaccepted his terms--with a private reservation that I should have help athand--and before daybreak next morning left Rosny, which I had only seenby torchlight, with my prisoner and a select body of Swiss. We enteredParis in the afternoon in three parties, with as little parade aspossible, and went straight to the Arsenal, whence, as soon as eveningfell, I hurried with only two armed attendants to the Louvre. 

A return so sudden and unexpected was as great a surprise to the court asto the king, and I was not slow to mark with an inward smile thediscomposure which appeared very clearly on the faces of several, as thecrowd in the chamber fell back for me to approach my master. I wascareful, however, to remember that this might arise from other causes thanguilt. The king received me with his wonted affection; and divining atonce that I must have something important to communicate, withdrew with meto the farther end of the chamber, where we were out of earshot of thecourt. I there related the story to his majesty, keeping back nothing. 

He shook his head, saying merely: "The fish to escape the frying pan, grand master, will jump into the fire. And human nature, save in the caseof you and me, who can trust one another, is very fishy. "

I was touched by this gracious compliment, but not convinced. "You havenot seen the man, sire, " I said, "and I have had that advantage. "

"And believe him?"

"In part, " I answered with caution. "So far at least as to be assured thathe thinks to save his skin, which he will only do if he be telling thetruth. May I beg you, sire, " I added hastily, seeing the direction of hisglance, "not to look so fixedly at the Duke of Epernon? He grows uneasy. "

"Conscience makes--you know the rest. "

"Nay, sire, with submission, " I replied, "I will answer for him; if he benot driven by fear to do something reckless. "

"Good! I take your warranty, Duke of Sully, " the king said, with the easygrace which came so natural to him. "But now in this matter what would youhave me do?"

"Double your guards, sire, for to-night--that is all. I will answer forthe Bastile and the Arsenal; and holding these we hold Paris. "

But thereupon I found that the king had come to a decision, which I feltit to be my duty to combat with all my influence. He had conceived theidea of being the one to accompany me to the rendezvous. "I am tired ofthe dice, " he complained, "and sick of tennis, at which I know everybody'sstrength. Madame de Verneuil is at Fontainebleau, the queen is unwell. Ah, Sully, I would the old days were back when we had Nerac for our Paris, andknew the saddle better than the armchair!"

"A king must think of his people, " I reminded him. 

"The fowl in the pot? To be sure. So I will--to-morrow, " he replied. Andin the end he would be obeyed. I took my leave of him as if for the night, and retired, leaving him at play with the Duke of Epernon. But an hourlater, toward eight o'clock, his majesty, who had made an excuse towithdraw to his closet, met me outside the eastern gate of the Louvre. 

He was masked, and attended only by Coquet, his master of the household. Itoo wore a mask and was esquired by Maignan, under whose orders were fourSwiss--whom I had chosen because they were unable to speakFrench--guarding the prisoner Andrew. I bade Maignan follow theinnkeeper's directions, and we proceeded in two parties through thestreets on the left bank of the river, past the Châtelet and Bastile, until we reached an obscure street near the water, so narrow that thedecrepit wooden houses shut out well-nigh all view of the sky. Here theprisoner halted and called upon me to fulfill the terms of my agreement. Ibade Maignan therefore to keep with the Swiss at a distance of fiftypaces, but to come up should I whistle or otherwise give the alarm; andmyself with the king and Andrew proceeded onward in the deep shadow of thehouses. I kept my hand on my pistol, which I had previously shown to theprisoner, intimating that on the first sign of treachery I should blow outhis brains. However, despite precaution, I felt uncomfortable to the lastdegree. I blamed myself severely for allowing the king to expose himselfand the country to this unnecessary danger; while the meanness of thelocality, the fetid air, the darkness of the night, which was wet andtempestuous, and the uncertainty of the event lowered my spirits, and madeevery splash in the kennel and stumble on the reeking, slipperypavements--matters over which the king grew merry--seem no light troublesto me. 

Arriving at a house, which, if we might judge in the darkness, seemed tobe of rather greater pretensions than its fellows, our guide stopped, andwhispered to us to mount some steps to a raised wooden gallery, whichintervened between the lane and the doorway. On this, besides the door, acouple of unglazed windows looked out. The shutter of one was ajar, andshowed us a large, bare room, lighted by a couple of rushlights. Directingus to place ourselves close to this shutter, the innkeeper knocked at thedoor in a peculiar fashion, and almost immediately entered, going at onceinto the lighted room. Peering cautiously through the window we weresurprised to find that the only person within, save the newcomer, was ayoung woman, who, crouching over a smoldering fire, was crooning a lullabywhile she attended to a large black pot. 

"Good evening, mistress!" said the innkeeper, advancing to the fire with afair show of nonchalance. 

"Good evening, Master Andrew, " the girl replied, looking up and nodding, but showing no sign of surprise at his appearance. "Martin is away, but hemay return at any moment. "

"Is he still of the same mind?"

"Quite. "

"And what of Sully? Is he to die then?" he asked. 

"They have decided he must, " the girl answered gloomily. It may bebelieved that I listened with all my ears, while the king by a nudge in myside seemed to rally me on the destiny so coolly arranged for me. "Martinsays it is no good killing the other unless he goes too--they have been solong together. But it vexes me sadly, Master Andrew, " she added with asudden break in her voice. "Sadly it vexes me. I could not sleep lastnight for thinking of it, and the risk Martin runs. And I shall sleep lesswhen it is done. "

"Pooh-pooh!" said that rascally innkeeper. "Think less about it. Thingswill grow worse and worse if they are let live. The King has done harmenough already. And he grows old besides. "

"That is true!" said the girl. "And no doubt the sooner he is put out ofthe way the better. He is changed sadly. I do not say a word for him. Lethim die. It is killing Sully that troubles me--that and the risk Martinruns. "

At this I took the liberty of gently touching the king. He answered by anamused grimace; then by a motion of his hand he enjoined silence. Westooped still farther forward so as better to command the room. The girlwas rocking herself to and fro in evident distress of mind. "If we killedthe King, " she continued, "Martin declares we should be no better off, aslong as Sully lives. Both or neither, he says. But I do not know. I cannotbear to think of it. It was a sad day when we brought Epernon here, MasterAndrew; and one I fear we shall rue as long as we live. "

It was now the king's turn to be moved. He grasped my wrist so forciblythat I restrained a cry with difficulty. "Epernon!" he whispered harshlyin my ear. "They are Epernon's tools! Where is your guaranty now, Rosny?"

I confess that I trembled. I knew well that the king, particular in smallcourtesies, never forgot to call his servants by their correct titles, save in two cases; when he indicated by the seeming error, as once inMarshal Biron's affair, his intention to promote or degrade them; or whenhe was moved to the depths of his nature and fell into an old habit. I didnot dare to reply, but listened greedily for more information. 

"When is it to be done?" asked the innkeeper, sinking his voice andglancing round, as if he would call especial attention to this. 

"That depends upon Master la Rivière, " the girl answered. "To-morrownight, I understand, if Master la Rivière can have the stuff ready. "

I met the king's eyes. They shone fiercely in the faint light, whichissuing from the window fell on him. Of all things he hated treacherymost, and La Rivière was his first body physician, and at this very time, as I well knew, was treating him for a slight derangement which the kinghad brought upon himself by his imprudence. This doctor had formerly beenin the employment of the Bouillon family, who had surrendered his servicesto the king. Neither I nor his majesty had trusted the Duke of Bouillonfor the last year past, so that we were not surprised by this hint that hewas privy to the design. 

Despite our anxiety not to miss a word, an approaching step warned us atthis moment to draw back. More than once before we had done so to escapethe notice of a wayfarer passing up and down. But this time I had adifficulty in inducing the king to adopt the precaution. Yet it was wellthat I succeeded, for the person who came stumbling along toward us didnot pass, but, mounting the steps, walked by within touch of us andentered the house. 

"The plot thickens, " muttered the king. "Who is this?"

At the moment he asked I was racking my brain to remember. I have a goodeye and a fair recollection for faces, and this was one I had seen severaltimes. The features were so familiar that I suspected the man of being acourtier in disguise, and I ran over the names of several persons whom Iknew to be Bouillon's secret agents. But he was none of these, and obeyingthe king's gesture, I bent myself again to the task of listening. 

The girl looked up on the man's entrance, but did not rise. "You are late, Martin, " she said. 

"A little, " the newcomer answered. "How do you do, Master Andrew? Whatcheer? What, still vexing, mistress?" he added contemptuously to the girl. "You have too soft a heart for this business!"

She sighed, but made no answer. 

"You have made up your mind to it, I hear?" said the innkeeper. 

"That is it. Needs must when the devil drives!" replied the man jauntily. He had a downcast, reckless, luckless air, yet in his face I thought Istill saw traces of a better spirit. 

"The devil in this case was Epernon, " quoth Andrew. 

"Aye, curse him! I would I had cut his dainty throat before he crossed mythreshold, " cried the desperado. "But there, it is too late to say thatnow. What has to be done, has to be done. "

"How are you going about it? Poison, the mistress says. "

"Yes; but if I had my way, " the man growled fiercely, "I would out one ofthese nights and cut the dogs' throats in the kennel!"

"You could never escape, Martin!" the girl cried, rising in excitement. "It would be hopeless. It would merely be throwing away your own life. "

"Well, it is not to be done that way, so there is an end of it, " quoth theman wearily. "Give me my supper. The devil take the king and Sully too! Hewill soon have them. "

On this Master Andrew rose, and I took his movement toward the door for asignal for us to retire. He came out at once, shutting the door behind himas he bade the pair within a loud good night. He found us standing in thestreet waiting for him and forthwith fell on his knees in the mud andlooked up at me, the perspiration standing thick on his white face. "Mylord, " he cried hoarsely, "I have earned my pardon!"

"If you go on, " I said encouragingly, "as you have begun, have no fear. "Without more ado I whistled up the Swiss and bade Maignan go with them andarrest the man and woman with as little disturbance as possible. Whilethis was being done we waited without, keeping a sharp eye upon theinformer, whose terror, I noted with suspicion, seemed to be in no degreediminished. He did not, however, try to escape, and Maignan presently cameto tell us that he had executed the arrest without difficulty orresistance. 

The importance of arriving at the truth before Epernon and the greaterconspirators should take the alarm was so vividly present to the minds ofthe king and myself, that we did not hesitate to examine the prisoners intheir house, rather than hazard the delay and observation which theirremoval to a more fit place must occasion. Accordingly, taking theprecaution to post Coquet in the street outside, and to plant a burlySwiss in the doorway, the king and I entered. I removed my mask as I didso, being aware of the necessity of gaining the prisoners' confidence, butI begged the king to retain his. As I had expected, the man immediatelyrecognized me and fell on his knees, a nearer view confirming the notion Ihad previously entertained that his features were familiar to me, though Icould not remember his name. I thought this a good starting-point for myexamination, and bidding Maignan withdraw, I assumed an air of mildnessand asked the fellow his name. 

"Martin, only, please your lordship, " he answered; adding, "once I soldyou two dogs, sir, for the chase, and to your lady a lapdog called Ninetteno larger than her hand. "

I remembered the knave, then, as a fashionable dog dealer, who had beenmuch about the court in the reign of Henry the Third and later; and I sawat once how convenient a tool he might be made, since he could be seen inconverse with people of all ranks without arousing suspicion. The man'sface as he spoke expressed so much fear and surprise that I determined totry what I had often found successful in the case of greater criminals, tosqueeze him for a confession while still excited by his arrest, and beforehe should have had time to consider what his chances of support at thehands of his confederates might be. I charged him therefore solemnly totell the whole truth as he hoped for the king's mercy. He heard me, gazingat me piteously; but his only answer, to my surprise, was that he hadnothing to confess. 

"Come, come, " I replied sternly, "this will avail you nothing; if you donot speak quickly, rogue, and to the point, we shall find means to compelyou. Who counseled you to attempt his majesty's life?"

On this he stared so stupidly at me, and exclaimed with so real anappearance of horror: "How? I attempt the king's life? God forbid!" that Idoubted that we had before us a more dangerous rascal than I had thought, and I hastened to bring him to the point. 

"What, then, " I cried, frowning, "of the stuff Master la Rivière is togive you to take the king's life to-morrow night? Oh, we know something, Iassure you; bethink you quickly, and find your tongue if you would have aneasy death. "

I expected to see his self-control break down at this proof of ourknowledge of his design, but he only stared at me with the same look ofbewilderment. I was about to bid them bring in the informer that I mightsee the two front to front, when the female prisoner, who had hithertostood beside her companion in such distress and terror as might beexpected in a woman of that class, suddenly stopped her tears andlamentations. It occurred to me that she might make a better witness. Iturned to her, but when I would have questioned her she broke into a wildscream of hysterical laughter. 

From that I remember that I learned nothing, though it greatly annoyed me. But there was one present who did--the king. He laid his hand on myshoulder, gripping it with a force that I read as a command to be silent. 

"Where, " he said to the man, "do you keep the King and Sully and Epernon, my friend?"

"The King and Sully--with the lordship's leave, " said the man quickly, with a frightened glance at me--"are in the kennels at the back of thehouse, but it is not safe to go near them. The King is raving mad, and--and the other dog is sickening. Epernon we had to kill a month back. He brought the disease here, and I have had such losses through him ashave nearly ruined me, please your lordship. "

"Get up--get up, man!" cried the king, and tearing off his mask he stampedup and down the room, so torn by paroxysms of laughter that he chokedhimself when again and again he attempted to speak. 

I too now saw the mistake, but I could not at first see it in the samelight. Commanding myself as well as I could, I ordered one of the Swiss tofetch in the innkeeper, but to admit no one else. 

The knave fell on his knees as soon as he saw me, his cheeks shaking likea jelly. 

"Mercy, mercy!" was all he could say. 

"You have dared to play with me?" I whispered. 

"You bade me joke, " he sobbed, "you bade me. "

I was about to say that it would be his last joke in this world--for myanger was fully aroused--when the king intervened. 

"Nay, " he said, laying his hand softly on my shoulder. "It has been themost glorious jest. I would not have missed it for a kingdom. I commandyou, Sully, to forgive him. "

Thereupon his majesty strictly charged the three that they should not onperil of their lives mention the circumstances to anyone. Nor to the bestof my belief did they do so, being so shrewdly scared when they recognizedthe king that I verily think they never afterwards so much as spoke of theaffair to one another. My master further gave me on his own part his mostgracious promise that he would not disclose the matter even to Madame deVerneuil or the queen, and upon these representations he induced me freelyto forgive the innkeeper. So ended this conspiracy, on the divertingdetails of which I may seem to have dwelt longer than I should; but alas!in twenty-one years of power I investigated many, and this one only can Iregard with satisfaction. The rest were so many warnings and predictionsof the fate which, despite all my care and fidelity, was in store for thegreat and good master I served. 

Robert Louis Stevenson

_The Pavilion on the Links_

I

I was a great solitary when I was young. I made it my pride to keep aloofand suffice for my own entertainment; and I may say that I had neitherfriends nor acquaintances until I met that friend who became my wife andthe mother of my children. With one man only was I on private terms; thiswas R. Northmour, Esquire, of Graden Easter, in Scotland. We had met atcollege; and though there was not much liking between us, nor even muchintimacy, we were so nearly of a humor that we could associate with easeto both. Misanthropes, we believed ourselves to be; but I have thoughtsince that we were only sulky fellows. It was scarcely a companionship, but a co-existence in unsociability. Northmour's exceptional violence oftemper made it no easy affair for him to keep the peace with anyone butme; and as he respected my silent ways, and let me come and go as Ipleased, I could tolerate his presence without concern. I think we calledeach other friends. 

When Northmour took his degree and I decided to leave the universitywithout one, he invited me on a long visit to Graden Easter; and it wasthus that I first became acquainted with the scene of my adventures. Themansion house of Graden stood in a bleak stretch of country some threemiles from the shore of the German Ocean. It was as large as a barrack;and as it had been built of a soft stone, liable to consume in the eagerair of the seaside, it was damp and draughty within and half ruinouswithout. It was impossible for two young men to lodge with comfort insuch a dwelling. But there stood in the northern part of the estate, in awilderness of links and blowing sand hills, and between a plantation andthe sea, a small pavilion or belvedere, of modern design, which wasexactly suited to our wants; and in this hermitage, speaking little, reading much, and rarely associating except at meals, Northmour and Ispent four tempestuous winter months. I might have stayed longer; but oneMarch night there sprung up between us a dispute, which rendered mydeparture necessary. Northmour spoke hotly, I remember, and I suppose Imust have made some tart rejoinder. He leaped from his chair and grappledme; I had to fight, without exaggeration, for my life; and it was onlywith a great effort that I mastered him, for he was near as strong in bodyas myself, and seemed filled with the devil. The next morning, we met onour usual terms; but I judged it more delicate to withdraw; nor did heattempt to dissuade me. 

It was nine years before I revisited the neighborhood. I traveled at thattime with a tilt-cart, a tent, and a cooking stove, tramping all daybeside the wagon, and at night, whenever it was possible, gypsying in acove of the hills, or by the side of a wood. I believe I visited in thismanner most of the wild and desolate regions both in England and Scotland;and, as I had neither friends nor relations, I was troubled with nocorrespondence, and had nothing in the nature of headquarters, unless itwas the office of my solicitors, from whom I drew my income twice a year. It was a life in which I delighted; and I fully thought to have grown oldupon the march, and at last died in a ditch. 

It was my whole business to find desolate corners, where I could campwithout the fear of interruption; and hence, being in another part of thesame shire, I bethought me suddenly of the Pavilion on the Links. Nothoroughfare passed within three miles of it. The nearest town, and thatwas but a fisher village, was at a distance of six or seven. For ten milesof length, and from a depth varying from three miles to half a mile, thisbelt of barren country lay along the sea. The beach, which was the naturalapproach, was full of quicksands. Indeed I may say there is hardly abetter place of concealment in the United Kingdom. I determined to pass aweek in the Sea-Wood of Graden Easter, and making a long stage, reached itabout sundown on a wild September day. 

The country, I have said, was mixed sand hill and links; _links_ being aScottish name for sand which has ceased drifting and become more or lesssolidly covered with turf. The pavilion stood on an even space: a littlebehind it, the wood began in a hedge of elders huddled together by thewind; in front, a few tumbled sand hills stood between it and the sea. Anoutcropping of rock had formed a bastion for the sand, so that there washere a promontory in the coast line between two shallow bays; and justbeyond the tides, the rock again cropped out and formed an islet of smalldimensions but strikingly designed. The quicksands were of great extent atlow water, and had an infamous reputation in the country. Close in shore, between the islet and the promontory, it was said they would swallow a manin four minutes and a half; but there may have been little ground for thisprecision. The district was alive with rabbits, and haunted by gulls whichmade a continual piping about the pavilion. On summer days the outlook wasbright and even gladsome; but at sundown in September, with a high wind, and a heavy surf rolling in close along the links, the place told ofnothing but dead mariners and sea disaster. A ship beating to windward onthe horizon, and a huge truncheon of wreck half buried in the sands at myfeet, completed the innuendo of the scene. 

The pavilion--it had been built by the last proprietor, Northmour's uncle, a silly and prodigal virtuoso--presented little signs of age. It was twostories in height, Italian in design, surrounded by a patch of garden inwhich nothing had prospered but a few coarse flowers; and looked, with itsshuttered windows, not like a house that had been deserted, but like onethat had never been tenanted by man. Northmour was plainly from home;whether, as usual, sulking in the cabin of his yacht, or in one of hisfitful and extravagant appearances in the world of society, I had, ofcourse, no means of guessing. The place had an air of solitude thatdaunted even a solitary like myself; the wind cried in the chimneys with astrange and wailing note; and it was with a sense of escape, as if I weregoing indoors, that I turned away and, driving my cart before me, enteredthe skirts of the wood. 

The Sea-Wood of Graden had been planted to shelter the cultivated fieldsbehind, and check the encroachments of the blowing sand. As you advancedinto it from coastward, elders were succeeded by other hardy shrubs; butthe timber was all stunted and bushy; it led a life of conflict; the treeswere accustomed to swing there all night long in fierce winter tempests;and even in early spring, the leaves were already flying, and autumn wasbeginning, in this exposed plantation. Inland the ground rose into alittle hill, which, along with the islet, served as a sailing mark forseamen. When the hill was open of the islet to the north, vessels mustbear well to the eastward to clear Graden Ness and the Graden Bullers. Inthe lower ground, a streamlet ran among the trees, and, being dammed withdead leaves and clay of its own carrying, spread out every here and there, and lay in stagnant pools. One or two ruined cottages were dotted aboutthe wood; and, according to Northmour, these were ecclesiasticalfoundations, and in their time had sheltered pious hermits. 

I found a den, or small hollow, where there was a spring of pure water;and there, clearing away the brambles, I pitched the tent, and made a fireto cook my supper. My horse I picketed farther in the wood where there wasa patch of sward. The banks of the den not only concealed the light of myfire, but sheltered me from the wind, which was cold as well as high. 

The life I was leading made me both hardy and frugal. I never drank butwater, and rarely eat anything more costly than oatmeal; and I required solittle sleep, that, although I rose with the peep of day, I would oftenlie long awake in the dark or starry watches of the night. Thus in GradenSea-Wood, although I fell thankfully asleep by eight in the evening I wasawake again before eleven with a full possession of my faculties, and nosense of drowsiness or fatigue. I rose and sat by the fire, watching thetrees and clouds tumultuously tossing and fleeing overhead, and hearkeningto the wind and the rollers along the shore; till at length, growing wearyof inaction, I quitted the den, and strolled toward the borders of thewood. A young moon, buried in mist, gave a faint illumination to my steps;and the light grew brighter as I walked forth into the links. At the samemoment, the wind, smelling salt of the open ocean and carrying particlesof sand, struck me with its full force, so that I had to bow my head. 

When I raised it again to look about me, I was aware of a light in thepavilion. It was not stationary; but passed from one window to another, asthough some one were reviewing the different apartments with a lamp orcandle. I watched it for some seconds in great surprise. When I hadarrived in the afternoon the house had been plainly deserted; now it wasas plainly occupied. It was my first idea that a gang of thieves mighthave broken in and be now ransacking Northmour's cupboards, which weremany and not ill supplied. But what should bring thieves at Graden Easter?And, again, all the shutters had been thrown open, and it would have beenmore in the character of such gentry to close them. I dismissed thenotion, and fell back upon another. Northmour himself must have arrived, and was now airing and inspecting the pavilion. 

I have said that there was no real affection between this man and me; but, had I loved him like a brother, I was then so much more in love withsolitude that I should none the less have shunned his company. As it was, I turned and ran for it; and it was with genuine satisfaction that I foundmyself safely back beside the fire. I had escaped an acquaintance; Ishould have one more night in comfort. In the morning, I might either slipaway before Northmour was abroad, or pay him as short a visit as I chose. 

But when morning came, I thought the situation so diverting that I forgotmy shyness. Northmour was at my mercy; I arranged a good practical jest, though I knew well that my neighbor was not the man to jest with insecurity; and, chuckling beforehand over its success, took my place amongthe elders at the edge of the wood, whence I could command the door of thepavilion. The shutters were all once more closed, which I rememberthinking odd; and the house, with its white walls and green venetians, looked spruce and habitable in the morning light. Hour after hour passed, and still no sign of Northmour. I knew him for a sluggard in the morning;but, as it drew on toward noon, I lost my patience. To say the truth, Ihad promised myself to break my fast in the pavilion, and hunger began toprick me sharply. It was a pity to let the opportunity go by without somecause for mirth; but the grosser appetite prevailed, and I relinquished myjest with regret, and sallied from the wood. 

The appearance of the house affected me, as I drew near, with disquietude. It seemed unchanged since last evening; and I had expected it, I scarceknew why, to wear some external signs of habitation. But no: the windowswere all closely shuttered, the chimneys breathed no smoke, and the frontdoor itself was closely padlocked. Northmour, therefore, had entered bythe back; this was the natural, and indeed, the necessary conclusion; andyou may judge of my surprise when, on turning the house, I found the backdoor similarly secured. 

My mind at once reverted to the original theory of thieves; and I blamedmyself sharply for my last night's inaction. I examined all the windows onthe lower story, but none of them had been tampered with; I tried thepadlocks, but they were both secure. It thus became a problem how thethieves, if thieves they were, had managed to enter the house. They musthave got, I reasoned, upon the roof of the outhouse where Northmour usedto keep his photographic battery; and from thence, either by the window ofthe study or that of my old bedroom, completed their burglarious entry. 

I followed what I supposed was their example; and, getting on the roof, tried the shutters of each room. Both were secure; but I was not to bebeaten; and, with a little force, one of them flew open, grazing, as itdid so, the back of my hand. I remember, I put the wound to my mouth, andstood for perhaps half a minute licking it like a dog, and mechanicallygazing behind me over the waste links and the sea; and, in that space oftime, my eye made note of a large schooner yacht some miles to thenortheast. Then I threw up the window and climbed in. 

I went over the house, and nothing can express my mystification. There wasno sign of disorder, but, on the contrary, the rooms were unusually cleanand pleasant. I found fires laid, ready for lighting; three bedroomsprepared with a luxury quite foreign to Northmour's habits, and with waterin the ewers and the beds turned down; a table set for three in thedining-room; and an ample supply of cold meats, game, and vegetables onthe pantry shelves. There were guests expected, that was plain; but whyguests, when Northmour hated society? And, above all, why was the housethus stealthily prepared at dead of night? and why were the shuttersclosed and the doors padlocked?

I effaced all traces of my visit, and came forth from the window feelingsobered and concerned. 

The schooner yacht was still in the same place; and it flashed for amoment through my mind that this might be the "Red Earl" bringing theowner of the pavilion and his guests. But the vessel's head was set theother way. 

II

I returned to the den to cook myself a meal, of which I stood in greatneed, as well as to care for my horse, whom I had somewhat neglected inthe morning. From time to time I went down to the edge of the wood; butthere was no change in the pavilion, and not a human creature was seen allday upon the links. The schooner in the offing was the one touch of lifewithin my range of vision. She, apparently with no set object, stood offand on or lay to, hour after hour; but as the evening deepened, she drewsteadily nearer. I became more convinced that she carried Northmour andhis friends, and that they would probably come ashore after dark; not onlybecause that was of a piece with the secrecy of the preparations, butbecause the tide would not have flowed sufficiently before eleven to coverGraden Floe and the other sea quags that fortified the shore againstinvaders. 

All day the wind had been going down, and the sea along with it; but therewas a return toward sunset of the heavy weather of the day before. Thenight set in pitch dark. The wind came off the sea in squalls, like thefiring of a battery of cannon; now and then there was a flaw of rain, andthe surf rolled heavier with the rising tide. I was down at my observatoryamong the elders, when a light was run up to the masthead of the schooner, and showed she was closer in than when I had last seen her by the dyingdaylight. I concluded that this must be a signal to Northmour's associateson shore; and, stepping forth into the links, looked around me forsomething in response. 

A small footpath ran along the margin of the wood, and formed the mostdirect communication between the pavilion and the mansion house; and, as Icast my eyes to that side, I saw a spark of light, not a quarter of a mileaway, and rapidly approaching. From its uneven course it appeared to bethe light of a lantern carried by a person who followed the windings ofthe path, and was often staggered, and taken aback by the more violentsqualls. I concealed myself once more among the elders, and waited eagerlyfor the newcomer's advance. It proved to be a woman; and, as she passedwithin half a rod of my ambush, I was able to recognize the features. Thedeaf and silent old dame, who had nursed Northmour in his childhood, washis associate in this underhand affair. 

I followed her at a little distance, taking advantage of the innumerableheights and hollows, concealed by the darkness, and favored not only bythe nurse's deafness, but by the uproar of the wind and surf. She enteredthe pavilion, and, going at once to the upper story, opened and set alight in one of the windows that looked toward the sea. Immediatelyafterwards the light at the schooner's masthead was run down andextinguished. Its purpose had been attained, and those on board were surethat they were expected. The old woman resumed her preparations; althoughthe other shutters remained closed, I could see a glimmer going to and froabout the house; and a gush of sparks from one chimney after another soontold me that the fires were being kindled. 

Northmour and his guests, I was now persuaded, would come ashore as soonas there was water on the floe. It was a wild night for boat service; andI felt some alarm mingle with my curiosity as I reflected on the danger ofthe landing. My old acquaintance, it was true, was the most eccentric ofmen; but the present eccentricity was both disquieting and lugubrious toconsider. A variety of feelings thus led me toward the beach, where I layflat on my face in a hollow within six feet of the track that led to thepavilion. Thence, I should have the satisfaction of recognizing thearrivals, and, if they should prove to be acquaintances, greeting them assoon as they landed. 

Some time before eleven, while the tide was still dangerously low, aboat's lantern appeared close in shore; and, my attention being thusawakened, I could perceive another still far to seaward, violently tossed, and sometimes hidden by the billows. The weather, which was gettingdirtier as the night went on, and the perilous situation of the yacht upona lee shore, had probably driven them to attempt a landing at the earliestpossible moment. 

A little afterwards, four yachtsmen carrying a very heavy chest, andguided by a fifth with a lantern, passed close in front of me as I lay, and were admitted to the pavilion by the nurse. They returned to thebeach, and passed me a third time with another chest, larger butapparently not so heavy as the first. A third time they made the transit;and on this occasion one of the yachtsmen carried a leather portmanteau, and the others a lady's trunk and carriage bag. My curiosity was sharplyexcited. If a woman were among the guests of Northmour, it would show achange in his habits, and an apostasy from his pet theories of life, wellcalculated to fill me with surprise. When he and I dwelt there together, the pavilion had been a temple of misogyny. And now, one of the detestedsex was to be installed under its roof. I remembered one or twoparticulars, a few notes of daintiness and almost of coquetry which hadstruck me the day before as I surveyed the preparations in the house;their purpose was now clear, and I thought myself dull not to haveperceived it from the first. 

While I was thus reflecting, a second lantern drew near me from the beach. It was carried by a yachtsman whom I had not yet seen, and who wasconducting two other persons to the pavilion. These two persons wereunquestionably the guests for whom the house was made ready; and, straining eye and ear, I set myself to watch them as they passed. One wasan unusually tall man, in a traveling hat slouched over his eyes, and ahighland cape closely buttoned and turned up so as to conceal his face. You could make out no more of him than that he was, as I have said, unusually tall, and walked feebly with a heavy stoop. By his side, andeither clinging to him or giving him support--I could not make outwhich--was a young, tall, and slender figure of a woman. She was extremelypale; but in the light of the lantern her face was so marred by strong andchanging shadows, that she might equally well have been as ugly as sin oras beautiful as I afterwards found her to be. 

When they were just abreast of me, the girl made some remark which wasdrowned by the noise of the wind. 

"Hush!" said her companion; and there was something in the tone with whichthe word was uttered that thrilled and rather shook my spirits. It seemedto breathe from a bosom laboring under the deadliest terror; I have neverheard another syllable so expressive; and I still hear it again when I amfeverish at night, and my mind runs upon old times. The man turned towardthe girl as he spoke; I had a glimpse of much red beard and a nose whichseemed to have been broken in youth; and his light eyes seemed shining inhis face with some strong and unpleasant emotion. 

But these two passed on and were admitted in their turn to the pavilion. 

One by one, or in groups, the seamen returned to the beach. The windbrought me the sound of a rough voice crying, "Shove off!" Then, after apause, another lantern drew near. It was Northmour alone. 

My wife and I, a man and a woman, have often agreed to wonder how a personcould be, at the same time, so handsome and so repulsive as Northmour. Hehad the appearance of a finished gentleman; his face bore every mark ofintelligence and courage; but you had only to look at him, even in hismost amiable moment, to see that he had the temper of a slaver captain. Inever knew a character that was both explosive and revengeful to the samedegree; he combined the vivacity of the south with the sustained anddeadly hatreds of the north; and both traits were plainly written on hisface, which was a sort of danger signal. In person, he was tall, strong, and active; his hair and complexion very dark; his features handsomelydesigned, but spoiled by a menacing expression. 

At that moment he was somewhat paler than by nature; he wore a heavyfrown; and his lips worked, and he looked sharply round him as he walked, like a man besieged with apprehensions. And yet I thought he had a look oftriumph underlying all, as though he had already done much, and was nearthe end of an achievement. 

Partly from a scruple of delicacy--which I dare say came too late--partlyfrom the pleasure of startling an acquaintance, I desired to make mypresence known to him without delay. 

I got suddenly to my feet, and stepped forward. 

"Northmour!" said I. 

I have never had so shocking a surprise in all my days. He leaped on mewithout a word; something shone in his hand; and he struck for my heartwith a dagger. At the same moment I knocked him head over heels. Whetherit was my quickness, or his own uncertainty, I know not; but the bladeonly grazed my shoulder, while the hilt and his fist struck me violentlyon the mouth. 

I fled, but not far. I had often and often observed the capabilities ofthe sand hills for protracted ambush or stealthy advances and retreats;and, not ten yards from the scene of the scuffle, plumped down again uponthe grass. The lantern had fallen and gone out. But what was myastonishment to see Northmour slip at a bound into the pavilion, and hearhim bar the door behind him with a clang of iron!

He had not pursued me. He had run away. Northmour, whom I knew for themost implacable and daring of men, had run away! I could scarce believe myreason; and yet in this strange business, where all was incredible, therewas nothing to make a work about in an incredibility more or less. For whywas the pavilion secretly prepared? Why had Northmour landed with hisguests at dead of night, in half a gale of wind, and with the floe scarcecovered? Why had he sought to kill me? Had he not recognized my voice? Iwondered. And, above all, how had he come to have a dagger ready in hishand? A dagger, or even a sharp knife, seemed out of keeping with the agein which we lived; and a gentleman landing from his yacht on the shore ofhis own estate, even although it was at night and with some mysteriouscircumstances, does not usually, as a matter of fact, walk thus preparedfor deadly onslaught. The more I reflected, the further I felt at sea. Irecapitulated the elements of mystery, counting them on my fingers: thepavilion secretly prepared for guests; the guests landed at the risk oftheir lives and to the imminent peril of the yacht; the guests, or atleast one of them, in undisguised and seemingly causeless terror;Northmour with a naked weapon; Northmour stabbing his most intimateacquaintance at a word; last, and not least strange, Northmour fleeingfrom the man whom he had sought to murder, and barricading himself, like ahunted creature, behind the door of the pavilion. Here were at least sixseparate causes for extreme surprise; each part and parcel with theothers, and forming all together one consistent story. I felt almostashamed to believe my own senses. 

As I thus stood, transfixed with wonder, I began to grow painfullyconscious of the injuries I had received in the scuffle; skulked roundamong the sand hills; and, by a devious path, regained the shelter of thewood. On the way, the old nurse passed again within several yards of me, still carrying her lantern, on the return journey to the mansion house ofGraden. This made a seventh suspicious feature in the case. Northmour andhis guests, it appeared, were to cook and do the cleaning for themselves, while the old woman continued to inhabit the big empty barrack among thepolicies. There must surely be great cause for secrecy, when so manyinconveniences were confronted to preserve it. 

So thinking, I made my way to the den. For greater security, I trod outthe embers of the fire, and lighted my lantern to examine the wound uponmy shoulder. It was a trifling hurt, although it bled somewhat freely, andI dressed it as well as I could (for its position made it difficult toreach) with some rag and cold water from the spring. While I was thusbusied, I mentally declared war against Northmour and his mystery. I amnot an angry man by nature, and I believe there was more curiosity thanresentment in my heart. But war I certainly declared; and, by way ofpreparation, I got out my revolver, and, having drawn the charges, cleanedand reloaded it with scrupulous care. Next I became preoccupied about myhorse. It might break loose, or fall to neighing, and so betray my camp inthe Sea-Wood. I determined to rid myself of its neighborhood; and longbefore dawn I was leading it over the links in the direction of the fishervillage. 

III

For two days I skulked round the pavilion, profiting by the uneven surfaceof the links. I became an adept in the necessary tactics. These lowhillocks and shallow dells, running one into another, became a kind ofcloak of darkness for my inthralling, but perhaps dishonorable, pursuit. 

Yet, in spite of this advantage, I could learn but little of Northmour orhis guests. 

Fresh provisions were brought under cover of darkness by the old womanfrom the mansion house. Northmour, and the young lady, sometimes together, but more often singly, would walk for an hour or two at a time on thebeach beside the quicksand. I could not but conclude that this promenadewas chosen with an eye to secrecy; for the spot was open only to seaward. But it suited me not less excellently; the highest and most accidented ofthe sand hills immediately adjoined; and from these, lying flat in ahollow, I could overlook Northmour or the young lady as they walked. 

The tall man seemed to have disappeared. Not only did he never cross thethreshold, but he never so much as showed face at a window; or, at least, not so far as I could see; for I dared not creep forward beyond a certaindistance in the day, since the upper floors commanded the bottoms of thelinks; and at night, when I could venture further, the lower windows werebarricaded as if to stand a siege. Sometimes I thought the tall man mustbe confined to bed, for I remembered the feebleness of his gait; andsometimes I thought he must have gone clear away, and that Northmour andthe young lady remained alone together in the pavilion. The idea, eventhen, displeased me. 

Whether or not this pair were man and wife, I had seen abundant reason todoubt the friendliness of their relation. Although I could hear nothing ofwhat they said, and rarely so much as glean a decided expression on theface of either, there was a distance, almost a stiffness, in theirbearing which showed them to be either unfamiliar or at enmity. The girlwalked faster when she was with Northmour than when she was alone; and Iconceived that any inclination between a man and a woman would ratherdelay than accelerate the step. Moreover, she kept a good yard free ofhim, and trailed her umbrella, as if it were a barrier, on the sidebetween them. Northmour kept sidling closer; and, as the girl retired fromhis advance, their course lay at a sort of diagonal across the beach, andwould have landed them in the surf had it been long enough continued. But, when this was imminent, the girl would unostentatiously change sides andput Northmour between her and the sea. I watched these maneuvers, for mypart, with high enjoyment and approval, and chuckled to myself at everymove. 

On the morning of the third day, she walked alone for some time, and Iperceived, to my great concern, that she was more than once in tears. Youwill see that my heart was already interested more than I supposed. Shehad a firm yet airy motion of the body, and carried her head withunimaginable grace; every step was a thing to look at, and she seemed inmy eyes to breathe sweetness and distinction. 

The day was so agreeable, being calm and sunshiny, with a tranquil sea, and yet with a healthful piquancy and vigor in the air, that, contrary tocustom, she was tempted forth a second time to walk. On this occasion shewas accompanied by Northmour, and they had been but a short while on thebeach, when I saw him take forcible possession of her hand. She struggled, and uttered a cry that was almost a scream. I sprung to my feet, unmindfulof my strange position; but, ere I had taken a step, I saw Northmourbareheaded and bowing very low, as if to apologize; and dropped again atonce into my ambush. A few words were interchanged; and then, with anotherbow, he left the beach to return to the pavilion. He passed not far fromme, and I could see him, flushed and lowering, and cutting savagely withhis cane among the grass. It was not without satisfaction that Irecognized my own handiwork in a great cut under his right eye, and aconsiderable discoloration round the socket. 

For some time the girl remained where he had left her, looking out pastthe islet and over the bright sea. Then with a start, as one who throwsoff preoccupation and puts energy again upon its mettle, she broke into arapid and decisive walk. She also was much incensed by what had passed. She had forgotten where she was. And I beheld her walk straight into theborders of the quicksand where it is most abrupt and dangerous. Two orthree steps farther and her life would have been in serious jeopardy, whenI slid down the face of the sand hill, which is there precipitous, and, running halfway forward, called to her to stop. 

She did so, and turned round. There was not a tremor of fear in herbehavior, and she marched directly up to me like a queen. I was barefoot, and clad like a common sailor, save for an Egyptian scarf round my waist;and she probably took me at first for some one from the fisher village, straying after bait. As for her, when I thus saw her face to face, hereyes set steadily and imperiously upon mine, I was filled with admirationand astonishment, and thought her even more beautiful than I had looked tofind her. Nor could I think enough of one who, acting with so muchboldness, yet preserved a maidenly air that was both quaint and engaging;for my wife kept an old-fashioned precision of manner through all heradmirable life--an excellent thing in woman, since it sets another valueon her sweet familiarities. 

"What does this mean?" she asked. 

"You were walking, " I told her, "directly into Graden Floe. "

"You do not belong to these parts, " she said again. "You speak like aneducated man. "

"I believe I have a right to that name, " said I, "although in thisdisguise. "

But her woman's eye had already detected the sash. 

"Oh!" she said; "your sash betrays you. "

"You have said the word _betray_, " I resumed. "May I ask you not to betrayme? I was obliged to disclose myself in your interest; but if Northmourlearned my presence it might be worse than disagreeable for me. "

"Do you know, " she asked, "to whom you are speaking?"

"Not to Mr. Northmour's wife?" I asked, by way of answer. 

She shook her head. All this while she was studying my face with anembarrassing intentness. Then she broke out--

"You have an honest face. Be honest like your face, sir, and tell me whatyou want and what you are afraid of. Do you think I could hurt you? Ibelieve you have far more power to injure me! And yet you do not lookunkind. What do you mean--you, a gentleman--by skulking like a spy aboutthis desolate place? Tell me, " she said, "who is it you hate?"

"I hate no one, " I answered; "and I fear no one face to face. My name isCassilis--Frank Cassilis. I lead the life of a vagabond for my own goodpleasure. I am one of Northmour's oldest friends; and three nights ago, when I addressed him on these links, he stabbed me in the shoulder with aknife. "

"It was you!" she said. 

"Why he did so, " I continued, disregarding the interruption, "is more thanI can guess, and more than I care to know. I have not many friends, nor amI very susceptible to friendship; but no man shall drive me from a placeby terror. I had camped in the Graden Sea-Wood ere he came; I camp in itstill. If you think I mean harm to you or yours, madame, the remedy is inyour hand. Tell him that my camp is in the Hemlock Den, and to-night hecan stab me in safety while I sleep. "

With this I doffed my cap to her, and scrambled up once more among thesand hills. I do not know why, but I felt a prodigious sense of injustice, and felt like a hero and a martyr; while as a matter of fact, I had not aword to say in my defense, nor so much as one plausible reason to offerfor my conduct. I had stayed at Graden out of a curiosity natural enough, but undignified; and though there was another motive growing in along withthe first, it was not one which, at that period, I could have properlyexplained to the lady of my heart. 

Certainly, that night, I thought of no one else; and, though her wholeconduct and position seemed suspicious, I could not find it in my heart toentertain a doubt of her integrity. I could have staked my life that shewas clear of blame, and, though all was dark at the present, that theexplanation of the mystery would show her part in these events to be bothright and needful. It was true, let me cudgel my imagination as I pleased, that I could invent no theory of her relations to Northmour; but I feltnone the less sure of my conclusion because it was founded on instinct inplace of reason, and, as I may say, went to sleep that night with thethought of her under my pillow. 

Next day she came out about the same hour alone, and, as soon as the sandhills concealed her from the pavilion, drew nearer to the edge, and calledme by name in guarded tones. I was astonished to observe that she wasdeadly pale, and seemingly under the influence of strong emotion. 

"Mr. Cassilis!" she cried; "Mr. Cassilis!"

I appeared at once, and leaped down upon the beach. A remarkable air ofrelief overspread her countenance as soon as she saw me. 

"Oh!" she cried, with a hoarse sound, like one whose bosom had beenlightened of a weight. And then, "Thank God you are still safe!" sheadded; "I knew, if you were, you would be here. " (Was not this strange? Soswiftly and wisely does Nature prepare our hearts for these great lifelongintimacies, that both my wife and I had been given a presentiment on thisthe second day of our acquaintance. I had even then hoped that she wouldseek me; she had felt sure that she would find me. ) "Do not, " she went onswiftly, "do not stay in this place. Promise me that you sleep no longerin that wood. You do not know how I suffer; all last night I could notsleep for thinking of your peril. "

"Peril!" I repeated. "Peril from whom? From Northmour?"

"Not so, " she said. "Did you think I would tell him after what you said?"

"Not from Northmour?" I repeated. "Then how? From whom? I see none to beafraid of. "

"You must not ask me, " was her reply, "for I am not free to tell you. Onlybelieve me, and go hence--believe me, and go away quickly, quickly, foryour life!"

An appeal to his alarm is never a good plan to rid oneself of a spiritedyoung man. My obstinacy was but increased by what she said, and I made ita point of honor to remain. And her solicitude for my safety still moreconfirmed me in the resolve. 

"You must not think me inquisitive, madame, " I replied, "but, if Gradenis so dangerous a place, you yourself perhaps remain here at some risk. "

She only looked at me reproachfully. 

"You and your father--" I resumed; but she interrupted me almost with agasp. 

"My father! How do you know that?" she cried. 

"I saw you together when you landed, " was my answer; and I do not knowwhy, but it seemed satisfactory to both of us, as indeed it was truth. "But, " I continued, "you need have no fear from me. I see you have somereason to be secret, and, you may believe me, your secret is as safe withme as if I were in Graden Floe. I have scarce spoken to anyone for years;my horse is my only companion, and even he, poor beast, is not beside me. You see, then, you may count on me for silence. So tell me the truth, mydear young lady, are you not in danger?"

"Mr. Northmour says you are an honorable man, " she returned, "and Ibelieve it when I see you. I will tell you so much; you are right: we arein dreadful, dreadful danger, and you share it by remaining where youare. "

"Ah!" said I; "you have heard of me from Northmour? And he gives me a goodcharacter?"

"I asked him about you last night, " was her reply. "I pretended, " shehesitated, "I pretended to have met you long ago, and spoken to you ofhim. It was not true; but I could not help myself without betraying you, and you had put me in a difficulty. He praised you highly. "

"And--you may permit me one question--does this danger come fromNorthmour?" I asked. 

"From Mr. Northmour?" she cried. "Oh, no, he stays with us to share it. "

"While you propose that I should run away?" I said. "You do not rate mevery high. "

"Why should you stay?" she asked. "You are no friend of ours. "

I know not what came over me, for I had not been conscious of a similarweakness since I was a child, but I was so mortified by this retort thatmy eyes pricked and filled with tears, as I continued to gaze upon herface. 

"No, no, " she said, in a changed voice; "I did not mean the wordsunkindly. "

"It was I who offended, " I said; and I held out my hand with a look ofappeal that somehow touched her, for she gave me hers at once, and eveneagerly. I held it for awhile in mine, and gazed into her eyes. It was shewho first tore her hand away, and, forgetting all about her request andthe promise she had sought to extort, ran at the top of her speed, andwithout turning, till she was out of sight. And then I knew that I lovedher, and thought in my glad heart that she--she herself--was notindifferent to my suit. Many a time she has denied it in after days, butit was with a smiling and not a serious denial. For my part, I am sure ourhands would not have lain so closely in each other if she had not begun tomelt to me already. And, when all is said, it is no great contention, since, by her own avowal, she began to love me on the morrow. 

And yet on the morrow very little took place. She came and called me downas on the day before, upbraided me for lingering at Graden, and, when shefound I was still obdurate, began to ask me more particularly as to myarrival. I told her by what series of accidents I had come to witnesstheir disembarkation, and how I had determined to remain, partly from theinterest which had been awakened in me by Northmour's guests, and partlybecause of his own murderous attack. As to the former, I fear I wasdisingenuous, and led her to regard herself as having been an attractionto me from the first moment that I saw her on the links. It relieves myheart to make this confession even now, when my wife is with God, andalready knows all things, and the honesty of my purpose even in this; forwhile she lived, although it often pricked my conscience, I had never thehardihood to undeceive her. Even a little secret, in such a married lifeas ours, is like the rose leaf which kept the princess from her sleep. 

From this the talk branched into other subjects, and I told her much aboutmy lonely and wandering existence; she, for her part, giving ear, andsaying little. Although we spoke very naturally, and latterly on topicsthat might seem indifferent, we were both sweetly agitated. Too soon itwas time for her to go; and we separated, as if by mutual consent, withoutshaking hands, for both knew that, between us, it was no idle ceremony. 

The next, and that was the fourth day of our acquaintance, we met in thesame spot, but early in the morning, with much familiarity and yet muchtimidity on either side. While she had once more spoken about mydanger--and that, I understood, was her excuse for coming--I, who hadprepared a great deal of talk during the night, began to tell her howhighly I valued her kind interest, and how no one had ever cared to hearabout my life, nor had I ever cared to relate it, before yesterday. Suddenly she interrupted me, saying with vehemence--

"And yet, if you knew who I was, you would not so much as speak to me!"

I told her such a thought was madness, and, little as we had met, Icounted her already a dear friend; but my protestations seemed only tomake her more desperate. 

"My father is in hiding!" she cried. 

"My dear, " I said, forgetting for the first time to add "young lady, ""what do I care? If I were in hiding twenty times over, would it make onethought of change in you?"

"Ah, but the cause!" she cried, "the cause! It is"--she faltered for asecond--"it is disgraceful to us!"

IV

This was my wife's story, as I drew it from her among tears and sobs. Hername was Clara Huddlestone: it sounded very beautiful in my ears; but notso beautiful as that other name of Clara Cassilis, which she wore duringthe longer and, I thank God, the happier portion of her life. Her father, Bernard Huddlestone, had been a private banker in a very large way ofbusiness. Many years before, his affairs becoming disordered, he had beenled to try dangerous, and at last criminal, expedients to retrieve himselffrom ruin. All was in vain; he became more and more cruelly involved, andfound his honor lost at the same moment with his fortune. About thisperiod, Northmour had been courting his daughter with great assiduity, though with small encouragement; and to him, knowing him thus disposed inhis favor, Bernard Huddlestone turned for help in his extremity. It wasnot merely ruin and dishonor, nor merely a legal condemnation, that theunhappy man had brought upon his head. It seems he could have gone toprison with a light heart. What he feared, what kept him awake at night orrecalled him from slumber into frenzy, was some secret, sudden, andunlawful attempt upon his life. Hence, he desired to bury his existenceand escape to one of the islands in the South Pacific, and it was inNorthmour's yacht, the "Red Earl, " that he designed to go. The yachtpicked them up clandestinely upon the coast of Wales, and had once moredeposited them at Graden, till she could be refitted and provisioned forthe longer voyage. Nor could Clara doubt that her hand had been stipulatedas the price of passage. For, although Northmour was neither unkind, noreven discourteous, he had shown himself in several instances somewhatoverbold in speech and manner. 

I listened, I need not say, with fixed attention, and put many questionsas to the more mysterious part. It was in vain. She had no clear idea ofwhat the blow was, nor of how it was expected to fall. Her father's alarmwas unfeigned and physically prostrating, and he had thought more thanonce of making an unconditional surrender to the police. But the schemewas finally abandoned, for he was convinced that not even the strength ofour English prisons could shelter him from his pursuers. He had had manyaffairs in Italy, and with Italians resident in London, in the latteryears of his business; and these last, as Clara fancied, were somehowconnected with the doom that threatened him. He had shown great terror atthe presence of an Italian seaman on board the "Red Earl, " and hadbitterly and repeatedly accused Northmour in consequence. The latter hadprotested that Beppo (that was the seaman's name) was a capital fellow, and could be trusted to the death; but Mr. Huddlestone had continued eversince to declare that all was lost, that it was only a question of days, and that Beppo would be the ruin of him yet. 

I regarded the whole story as the hallucination of a mind shaken bycalamity. He had suffered heavy loss by his Italian transactions; andhence the sight of an Italian was hateful to him, and the principal partin his nightmare would naturally enough be played by one of that nation. 

"What your father wants, " I said, "is a good doctor and some calmingmedicine. "

"But Mr. Northmour?" objected Clara. "He is untroubled by losses, and yethe shares in this terror. "

I could not help laughing at what I considered her simplicity. 

"My dear, " said I, "you have told me yourself what reward he has to lookfor. All is fair in love, you must remember; and if Northmour foments yourfather's terrors, it is not at all because he is afraid of any Italianman, but simply because he is infatuated with a charming English woman. "

She reminded me of his attack upon myself on the night of thedisembarkation, and this I was unable to explain. In short, and from onething to another, it was agreed between us that I should set out at oncefor the fisher village, Graden Wester, as it was called, look up all thenewspapers I could find, and see for myself if there seemed any basis offact for these continued alarms. The next morning, at the same hour andplace, I was to make my report to Clara. She said no more on that occasionabout my departure; nor, indeed, did she make it a secret that she clungto the thought of my proximity as something helpful and pleasant; and, formy part, I could not have left her, if she had gone upon her knees to askit. 

I reached Graden Wester before ten in the forenoon; for in those days Iwas an excellent pedestrian, and the distance, as I think I have said, waslittle over seven miles; fine walking all the way upon the springy turf. The village is one of the bleakest on that coast, which is saying much:there is a church in the hollow; a miserable haven in the rocks, wheremany boats have been lost as they returned from fishing; two or threescore of stone houses arranged along the beach and in two streets, oneleading from the harbor, and another striking out from it at right angles;and, at the corner of these two, a very dark and cheerless tavern, by wayof principal hotel. 

I had dressed myself somewhat more suitably to my station in life, and atonce called upon the minister in his little manse beside the graveyard. Heknew me, although it was more than nine years since we had met; and when Itold him that I had been long upon a walking tour, and was behind with thenews, readily lent me an armful of newspapers, dating from a month back tothe day before. With these I sought the tavern, and, ordering somebreakfast, sat down to study the "Huddlestone Failure. "

It had been, it appeared, a very flagrant case. Thousands of persons werereduced to poverty; and one in particular had blown out his brains as soonas payment was suspended. It was strange to myself that, while I readthese details, I continued rather to sympathize with Mr. Huddlestone thanwith his victims; so complete already was the empire of my love for mywife. A price was naturally set upon the banker's head; and, as the casewas inexcusable and the public indignation thoroughly aroused, the unusualfigure of £750 was offered for his capture. He was reported to have largesums of money in his possession. One day, he had been heard of in Spain;the next, there was sure intelligence that he was still lurking betweenManchester and Liverpool, or along the border of Wales; and the day after, a telegram would announce his arrival in Cuba or Yucatan. But in all thisthere was no word of an Italian, nor any sign of mystery. 

In the very last paper, however, there was one item not so clear. Theaccountants who were charged to verify the failure had, it seemed, comeupon the traces of a very large number of thousands, which figured forsome time in the transactions of the house of Huddlestone; but which camefrom nowhere, and disappeared in the same mysterious fashion. It was onlyonce referred to by name, and then under the initials "X. X. "; but it hadplainly been floated for the first time into the business at a period ofgreat depression some six years ago. The name of a distinguished royalpersonage had been mentioned by rumor in connection with this sum. "Thecowardly desperado"--such, I remember, was the editorial expression--wassupposed to have escaped with a large part of this mysterious fund stillin his possession. 

I was still brooding over the fact, and trying to torture it into someconnection with Mr. Huddlestone's danger, when a man entered the tavernand asked for some bread and cheese with a decided foreign accent. 

"_Siete Italiano_?" said I. 

"_Si, Signor_, " was his reply. 

I said it was unusually far north to find one of his compatriots; at whichhe shrugged his shoulders, and replied that a man would go anywhere tofind work. What work he could hope to find at Graden Wester, I was totallyunable to conceive; and the incident struck so unpleasantly upon my mind, that I asked the landlord, while he was counting me some change, whetherhe had ever before seen an Italian in the village. He said he had onceseen some Norwegians, who had been shipwrecked on the other side of GradenNess and rescued by the lifeboat from Cauldhaven. 

"No!" said I; "but an Italian, like the man who has just had bread andcheese. "

"What?" cried he, "yon black-avised fellow wi' the teeth? Was he anI-talian? Weel, yon's the first that ever I saw, an' I dare say he's liketo be the last. "

Even as he was speaking, I raised my eyes, and, casting a glance into thestreet, beheld three men in earnest conversation together, and not thirtyyards away. One of them was my recent companion in the tavern parlor; theother two, by their handsome sallow features and soft hats, shouldevidently belong to the same race. A crowd of village children stoodaround them, gesticulating and talking gibberish in imitation. The triolooked singularly foreign to the bleak dirty street in which they werestanding and the dark gray heaven that overspread them; and I confess myincredulity received at that moment a shock from which it never recovered. I might reason with myself as I pleased, but I could not argue down theeffect of what I had seen, and I began to share in the Italian terror. 

It was already drawing toward the close of the day before I had returnedthe newspapers to the manse, and got well forward on to the links on myway home. I shall never forget that walk. It grew very cold andboisterous; the wind sung in the short grass about my feet; thin rainshowers came running on the gusts; and an immense mountain range ofclouds began to arise out of the bosom of the sea. It would be hard toimagine a more dismal evening; and whether it was from these externalinfluences, or because my nerves were already affected by what I had heardand seen, my thoughts were as gloomy as the weather. 

The upper windows of the pavilion commanded a considerable spread of linksin the direction of Graden Wester. To avoid observation, it was necessaryto hug the beach until I had gained cover from the higher sand hills onthe little headland, when I might strike across, through the hollows, forthe margin of the wood. The sun was about setting; the tide was low, andall the quicksands uncovered; and I was moving along, lost in unpleasantthought, when I was suddenly thunderstruck to perceive the prints of humanfeet. They ran parallel to my own course, but low down upon the beach, instead of along the border of the turf; and, when I examined them, I sawat once, by the size and coarseness of the impression, that it was astranger to me and to those of the pavilion who had recently passed thatway. Not only so; but from the recklessness of the course which he hadfollowed, steering near to the most formidable portions of the sand, hewas evidently a stranger to the country and to the ill-repute of Gradenbeach. 

Step by step I followed the prints; until, a quarter of a mile farther, Ibeheld them die away into the southeastern boundary of Graden Floe. There, whoever he was, the miserable man had perished. One or two gulls, who had, perhaps, seen him disappear, wheeled over his sepulcher with their usualmelancholy piping. The sun had broken through the clouds by a last effort, and colored the wide level of quicksands with a dusky purple. I stood forsome time gazing at the spot, chilled and disheartened by my ownreflections, and with a strong and commanding consciousness of death. Iremember wondering how long the tragedy had taken, and whether his screamshad been audible at the pavilion. And then, making a strong resolution, Iwas about to tear myself away, when a gust fiercer than usual fell uponthis quarter of the beach, and I saw, now whirling high in air, nowskimming lightly across the surface of the sands, a soft, black, felt hat, somewhat conical in shape, such as I had remarked already on the heads ofthe Italians. 

I believe, but I am not sure, that I uttered a cry. The wind was drivingthe hat shoreward, and I ran round the border of the floe to be readyagainst its arrival. The gust fell, dropping the hat for awhile upon thequicksand, and then, once more freshening, landed it a few yards fromwhere I stood. I seized it with the interest you may imagine. It had seensome service; indeed, it was rustier than either of those I had seen thatday upon the street. The lining was red, stamped with the name of themaker, which I have forgotten, and that of the place of manufacture, _Venedig_. This (it is not yet forgotten) was the name given by theAustrians to the beautiful city of Venice, then, and for long after, apart of their dominions. 

The shock was complete. I saw imaginary Italians upon every side; and forthe first, and, I may say, for the last time in my experience, becameoverpowered by what is called a panic terror. I knew nothing, that is, tobe afraid of, and yet I admit that I was heartily afraid; and it was withsensible reluctance that I returned to my exposed and solitary camp in theSea-Wood. 

There I eat some cold porridge which had been left over from the nightbefore, for I was disinclined to make a fire; and, feeling strengthenedand reassured, dismissed all these fanciful terrors from my mind, and laydown to sleep with composure. 

How long I may have slept it is impossible for me to guess; but I wasawakened at last by a sudden, blinding flash of light into my face. Itwoke me like a blow. In an instant I was upon my knees. But the light hadgone as suddenly as it came. The darkness was intense. And, as it wasblowing great guns from the sea, and pouring with rain, the noises of thestorm effectually concealed all others. 

It was, I dare say, half a minute before I regained my self-possession. But for two circumstances, I should have thought I had been awakened bysome new and vivid form of nightmare. First, the flap of my tent, which Ihad shut carefully when I retired, was now unfastened; and, second, Icould still perceive, with a sharpness that excluded any theory ofhallucination, the smell of hot metal and of burning oil. The conclusionwas obvious. I had been awakened by some one flashing a bull's-eye lanternin my face. It had been but a flash, and away. He had seen my face, andthen gone. I asked myself the object of so strange a proceeding, and theanswer came pat. The man, whoever he was, had thought to recognize me, andhe had not. There was another question unresolved; and to this, I may say, I feared to give an answer; if he had recognized me, what would he havedone?

My fears were immediately diverted from myself, for I saw that I had beenvisited in a mistake; and I became persuaded that some dreadful dangerthreatened the pavilion. It required some nerve to issue forth into theblack and intricate thicket which surrounded and overhung the den; but Igroped my way to the links, drenched with rain, beaten upon and deafenedby the gusts, and fearing at every step to lay my hand upon some lurkingadversary. The darkness was so complete that I might have been surroundedby an army and yet none the wiser, and the uproar of the gale so loud thatmy hearing was as useless as my sight. 

For the rest of that night, which seemed interminably long, I patrolledthe vicinity of the pavilion, without seeing a living creature or hearingany noise but the concert of the wind, the sea, and the rain. A light inthe upper story filtered through a cranny of the shutter, and kept mecompany till the approach of dawn. 

V

With the first peep of day, I retired from the open to my old lair amongthe sand hills, there to await the coming of my wife. The morning wasgray, wild, and melancholy; the wind moderated before sunrise, and thenwent about, and blew in puffs from the shore; the sea began to go down, but the rain still fell without mercy. Over all the wilderness of linksthere was not a creature to be seen. Yet I felt sure the neighborhood wasalive with skulking foes. The light that had been so suddenly andsurprisingly flashed upon my face as I lay sleeping, and the hat that hadbeen blown ashore by the wind from over Graden Floe, were two speakingsignals of the peril that environed Clara and the party in the pavilion. 

It was, perhaps, half-past seven, or nearer eight, before I saw the dooropen, and that dear figure come toward me in the rain. I was waiting forher on the beach before she had crossed the sand hills. 

"I have had such trouble to come!" she cried. "They did not wish me to gowalking in the rain. "

"Clara, " I said, "you are not frightened!"

"No, " said she, with a simplicity that filled my heart with confidence. For my wife was the bravest as well as the best of women; in myexperience, I have not found the two go always together, but with her theydid; and she combined the extreme of fortitude with the most endearing andbeautiful virtues. 

I told her what had happened; and, though her cheek grew visibly paler, she retained perfect control over her senses. 

"You see now that I am safe, " said I, in conclusion. "They do not mean toharm me; for, had they chosen, I was a dead man last night. "

She laid her hand upon my arm. 

"And I had no presentiment!" she cried. 

Her accent thrilled me with delight. I put my arm about her, and strainedher to my side; and, before either of us was aware, her hands were on myshoulders and my lips upon her mouth. Yet up to that moment no word oflove had passed between us. To this day I remember the touch of her cheek, which was wet and cold with the rain; and many a time since, when she hasbeen washing her face, I have kissed it again for the sake of that morningon the beach. Now that she is taken from me, and I finish my pilgrimagealone, I recall our old loving kindnesses and the deep honesty andaffection which united us, and my present loss seems but a trifle incomparison. 

We may have thus stood for some seconds--for time passes quickly withlovers--before we were startled by a peal of laughter close at hand. Itwas not natural mirth, but seemed to be affected in order to conceal anangrier feeling. We both turned, though I still kept my left arm aboutClara's waist; nor did she seek to withdraw herself; and there, a fewpaces off upon the beach, stood Northmour, his head lowered, his handsbehind his back, his nostrils white with passion. 

"Ah! Cassilis!" he said, as I disclosed my face. 

"That same, " said I; for I was not at all put about. 

"And so, Miss Huddlestone, " he continued slowly, but savagely, "this ishow you keep your faith to your father and to me? This is the value youset upon your father's life? And you are so infatuated with this younggentleman that you must brave ruin, and decency, and common humancaution--"

"Miss Huddlestone--" I was beginning to interrupt him, when he, in histurn, cut in brutally--

"You hold your tongue, " said he; "I am speaking to that girl. "

"That girl, as you call her, is my wife, " said I; and my wife only leaneda little nearer, so that I knew she had affirmed my words. 

"Your what?" he cried. "You lie!"

"Northmour, " I said, "we all know you have a bad temper, and I am the lastman to be irritated by words. For all that, I propose that you speaklower, for I am convinced that we are not alone. "

He looked round him, and it was plain my remark had in some degree soberedhis passion. "What do you mean?" he asked. 

I only said one word: "Italians. "

He swore a round oath, and looked at us, from one to the other. 

"Mr. Cassilis knows all that I know, " said my wife. 

"What I want to know, " he broke out, "is where the devil Mr. Cassiliscomes from, and what the devil Mr. Cassilis is doing here. You say you aremarried; that I do not believe. If you were, Graden Floe would soondivorce you; four minutes and a half, Cassilis. I keep my private cemeteryfor my friends. "

"It took somewhat longer, " said I, "for that Italian. "

He looked at me for a moment half daunted, and then, almost civilly, askedme to tell my story. "You have too much the advantage of me, Cassilis, " headded. I complied of course; and he listened, with several ejaculations, while I told him how I had come to Graden: that it was I whom he had triedto murder on the night of landing; and what I had subsequently seen andheard of the Italians. 

"Well, " said he, when I had done, "it is here at last; there is no mistakeabout that. And what, may I ask, do you propose to do?"

"I propose to stay with you and lend a hand, " said I. 

"You are a brave man, " he returned, with a peculiar intonation. 

"I am not afraid, " said I. 

"And so, " he continued, "I am to understand that you two are married? Andyou stand up to it before my face, Miss Huddlestone?"

"We are not yet married, " said Clara; "but we shall be as soon as we can. "

"Bravo!" cried Northmour. "And the bargain? D----n it, you're not a fool, young woman; I may call a spade a spade with you. How about the bargain?You know as well as I do what your father's life depends upon. I haveonly to put my hands under my coat tails and walk away, and his throatwould be cut before the evening. "

"Yes, Mr. Northmour, " returned Clara, with great spirit; "but that is whatyou will never do. You made a bargain that was unworthy of a gentleman;but you are a gentleman for all that, and you will never desert a man whomyou have begun to help. "

"Aha!" said he. "You think I will give my yacht for nothing? You think Iwill risk my life and liberty for love of the old gentleman; and then, Isuppose, be best man at the wedding, to wind up? Well, " he added, with anodd smile, "perhaps you are not altogether wrong. But ask Cassilis here. _He_ knows me. Am I a man to trust? Am I safe and scrupulous? Am I kind?"

"I know you talk a great deal, and sometimes, I think, very foolishly, "replied Clara, "but I know you are a gentleman, and I am not the leastafraid. "

He looked at her with a peculiar approval and admiration; then, turning tome, "Do you think I would give her up without a struggle, Frank?" said he. "I tell you plainly, you look out. The next time we come to blows--"

"Will make the third, " I interrupted, smiling. 

"Aye, true; so it will, " he said. "I had forgotten. Well, the third time'slucky. "

"The third time, you mean, you will have the crew of the 'Red Earl' tohelp, " I said. 

"Do you hear him?" he asked, turning to my wife. 

"I hear two men speaking like cowards, " said she. "I should despise myselfeither to think or speak like that. And neither of you believe one wordthat you are saying, which makes it the more wicked and silly. "

"She's a trump!" cried Northmour. "But she's not yet Mrs. Cassilis. I sayno more. The present is not for me. "

Then my wife surprised me. 

"I leave you here, " she said suddenly. "My father has been too long alone. But remember this: you are to be friends, for you are both good friends tome. "

She has since told me her reason for this step. As long as she remained, she declares that we two would have continued to quarrel; and I supposethat she was right, for when she was gone we fell at once into a sort ofconfidentiality. 

Northmour stared after her as she went away over the sand hill. 

"She is the only woman in the world!" he exclaimed with an oath. "Look ather action. "

I, for my part, leaped at this opportunity for a little further light. 

"See here, Northmour, " said I; "we are all in a tight place, are we not?"

"I believe you, my boy, " he answered, looking me in the eyes, and withgreat emphasis. "We have all hell upon us, that's the truth. You maybelieve me or not, but I'm afraid of my life. "

"Tell me one thing, " said I. "What are they after, these Italians? What dothey want with Mr. Huddlestone?"

"Don't you know?" he cried. "The black old scamp had _carbonari_ funds ona deposit--two hundred and eighty thousand; and of course he gambled itaway on stocks. There was to have been a revolution in the Tridentino, orParma; but the revolution is off, and the whole wasp's nest is afterHuddlestone. We shall all be lucky if we can save our skins. "

"The _carbonari_!" I exclaimed; "God help him indeed!"

"Amen!" said Northmour. "And now, look here: I have said that we are in afix; and, frankly, I shall be glad of your help. If I can't saveHuddlestone, I want at least to save the girl. Come and stay in thepavilion; and, there's my hand on it, I shall act as your friend until theold man is either clear or dead. But, " he added, "once that is settled, you become my rival once again, and I warn you--mind yourself. "

"Done!" said I; and we shook hands. 

"And now let us go directly to the fort, " said Northmour; and he began tolead the way through the rain. 

VI

We were admitted to the pavilion by Clara, and I was surprised by thecompleteness and security of the defenses. A barricade of great strength, and yet easy to displace, supported the door against any violence fromwithout; and the shutters of the dining-room, into which I was leddirectly, and which was feebly illuminated by a lamp, were even moreelaborately fortified. The panels were strengthened by bars and crossbars;and these, in their turn, were kept in position by a system of braces andstruts, some abutting on the floor, some on the roof, and others, in fine, against the opposite wall of the apartment. It was at once a solid andwell-designed piece of carpentry; and I did not seek to conceal myadmiration. 

"I am the engineer, " said Northmour. "You remember the planks in thegarden? Behold them?"

"I did not know you had so many talents, " said I. 

"Are you armed?" he continued, pointing to an array of guns and pistols, all in admirable order, which stood in line against the wall or weredisplayed upon the sideboard. 

"Thank you, " I returned; "I have gone armed since our last encounter. But, to tell you the truth, I have had nothing to eat since early yesterdayevening. "

Northmour produced some cold meat, to which I eagerly set myself, and abottle of good Burgundy, by which, wet as I was, I did not scruple toprofit. I have always been an extreme temperance man on principle; but itis useless to push principle to excess, and on this occasion I believethat I finished three quarters of the bottle. As I eat, I still continuedto admire the preparations for defense. 

"We could stand a siege, " I said at length. 

"Ye--es, " drawled Northmour; "a very little one, per--haps. It is not somuch the strength of the pavilion I misdoubt; it is the double danger thatkills me. If we get to shooting, wild as the country is, some one is sureto hear it, and then--why then it's the same thing, only different, asthey say: caged by law, or killed by _carbonari_. There's the choice. Itis a devilish bad thing to have the law against you in this world, and soI tell the old gentleman upstairs. He is quite of my way of thinking. "

"Speaking of that, " said I, "what kind of person is he?"

"Oh, he!" cried the other; "he's a rancid fellow, as far as he goes. Ishould like to have his neck wrung to-morrow by all the devils in Italy. Iam not in this affair for him. You take me? I made a bargain for missy'shand, and I mean to have it too. "

"That, by the way, " said I. "I understand. But how will Mr. Huddlestonetake my intrusion?"

"Leave that to Clara, " returned Northmour. 

I could have struck him in the face for his coarse familiarity; but Irespected the truce, as, I am bound to say, did Northmour, and so long asthe danger continued not a cloud arose in our relation. I bear him thistestimony with the most unfeigned satisfaction; nor am I without pridewhen I look back upon my own behavior. For surely no two men were everleft in a position so invidious and irritating. 

As soon as I had done eating, we proceeded to inspect the lower floor. Window by window we tried the different supports, now and then making aninconsiderable change; and the strokes of the hammer sounded withstartling loudness through the house. I proposed, I remember, to makeloop-holes; but he told me they were already made in the windows of theupper story. It was an anxious business, this inspection, and left medown-hearted. There were two doors and five windows to protect, and, counting Clara, only four of us to defend them against an unknown numberof foes. I communicated my doubts to Northmour, who assured me, withunmoved composure, that he entirely shared them. 

"Before morning, " said he, "we shall all be butchered and buried in GradenFloe. For me, that is written. "

I could not help shuddering at the mention of the quicksand, but remindedNorthmour that our enemies had spared me in the wood. 

"Do not flatter yourself, " said he. "Then you were not in the same boatwith the old gentleman; now you are. It's the floe for all of us, mark mywords. "

I trembled for Clara; and just then her dear voice was heard calling us tocome upstairs. Northmour showed me the way, and, when he had reached thelanding, knocked at the door of what used to be called My Uncle's Bedroom, as the founder of the pavilion had designed it especially for himself. 

"Come in, Northmour; come in, dear Mr. Cassilis, " said a voice fromwithin. 

Pushing open the door, Northmour admitted me before him into theapartment. As I came in I could see the daughter slipping out by the sidedoor into the study, which had been prepared as her bedroom. In the bed, which was drawn back against the wall, instead of standing, as I had lastseen it, boldly across the window, sat Bernard Huddlestone, the defaultingbanker. Little as I had seen of him by the shifting light of the lanternon the links, I had no difficulty in recognizing him for the same. He hada long and sallow countenance, surrounded by a long red beard andside-whiskers. His broken nose and high cheek-bones gave him somewhat theair of a Kalmuck, and his light eyes shone with the excitement of a highfever. He wore a skull-cap of black silk; a huge Bible lay open before himon the bed, with a pair of gold spectacles in the place, and a pile ofother books lay on the stand by his side. The green curtains lent acadaverous shade to his cheek; and, as he sat propped on pillows, hisgreat stature was painfully hunched, and his head protruded till itoverhung his knees. I believe if he had not died otherwise, he must havefallen a victim to consumption in the course of but a very few weeks. 

He held out to me a hand, long, thin, and disagreeably hairy. 

"Come in, come in, Mr. Cassilis, " said he. "Anotherprotector--ahem!--another protector. Always welcome as a friend of mydaughter's, Mr. Cassilis. How they have rallied about me, my daughter'sfriends! May God in heaven bless and reward them for it!"

I gave him my hand, of course, because I could not help it; but thesympathy I had been prepared to feel for Clara's father was immediatelysoured by his appearance, and the wheedling, unreal tones in which hespoke. 

"Cassilis is a good man, " said Northmour; "worth ten. "

"So I hear, " cried Mr. Huddlestone eagerly; "so my girl tells me. Ah, Mr. Cassilis, my sin has found me out, you see! I am very low, very low; but Ihope equally penitent. We must all come to the throne of grace at last, Mr. Cassilis. For my part, I come late indeed; but with unfeignedhumility, I trust. "

"Fiddle-de-dee!" said Northmour roughly. 

"No, no, dear Northmour!" cried the banker. "You must not say that; youmust not try to shake me. You forget, my dear, good boy, you forget I maybe called this very night before my Maker. "

His excitement was pitiful to behold; and I felt myself grow indignantwith Northmour, whose infidel opinions I well knew, and heartily despised, as he continued to taunt the poor sinner out of his humor of repentance. 

"Pooh, my dear Huddlestone!" said he. "You do yourself injustice. You area man of the world inside and out, and were up to all kinds of mischiefbefore I was born. Your conscience is tanned like South Americanleather--only you forgot to tan your liver, and that, if you will believeme, is the seat of the annoyance. "

"Rogue, rogue! bad boy!" said Mr. Huddlestone, shaking his finger. "I amno precisian, if you come to that; I always hated a precisian; but I neverlost hold of something better through it all. I have been a bad boy, Mr. Cassilis; I do not seek to deny that; but it was after my wife's death, and you know, with a widower, it's a different thing: sinful--I won't sayno; but there is a gradation, we shall hope. And talking of that--Hark!"he broke out suddenly, his hand raised, his fingers spread, his faceracked with interest and terror. "Only the rain, bless God!" he added, after a pause, and with indescribable relief. 

For some seconds he lay back among the pillows like a man near tofainting; then he gathered himself together, and, in somewhat tremuloustones, began once more to thank me for the share I was prepared to take inhis defense. 

"One question, sir, " said I, when he had paused. "Is it true that you havemoney with you?"

He seemed annoyed by the question, but admitted with reluctance that hehad a little. 

"Well, " I continued, "it is their money they are after, is it not? Why notgive it up to them?"

"Ah!" replied he, shaking his head, "I have tried that already, Mr. Cassilis; and alas! that it should be so, but it is blood they want. "

"Huddlestone, that's a little less than fair, " said Northmour. "You shouldmention that what you offered them was upward of two hundred thousandshort. The deficit is worth a reference; it is for what they call a coolsum, Frank. Then, you see, the fellows reason in their clear Italian way;and it seems to them, as indeed it seems to me, that they may just as wellhave both while they're about it--money and blood together, by George, andno more trouble for the extra pleasure. "

"Is it in the pavilion?" I asked. 

"It is; and I wish it were in the bottom of the sea instead, " saidNorthmour; and then suddenly--"What are you making faces at me for?" hecried to Mr. Huddlestone, on whom I had unconsciously turned my back. "Doyou think Cassilis would sell you?"

Mr. Huddlestone protested that nothing had been further from his mind. 

"It is a good thing, " retorted Northmour in his ugliest manner. "You mightend by wearying us. What were you going to say?" he added, turning to me. 

"I was going to propose an occupation for the afternoon, " said I. "Let uscarry that money out, piece by piece, and lay it down before the paviliondoor. If the _carbonari_ come, why, it's theirs at any rate. "

"No, no, " cried Mr. Huddlestone; "it does not, it cannot, belong to them!It should be distributed _pro rata_ among all my creditors. "

"Come now, Huddlestone, " said Northmour, "none of that. "

"Well, but my daughter, " moaned the wretched man. 

"Your daughter will do well enough. Here are two suitors, Cassilis and I, neither of us beggars, between whom she has to choose. And as foryourself, to make an end of arguments, you have no right to a farthing, and, unless I'm much mistaken, you are going to die. "

It was certainly very cruelly said; but Mr. Huddlestone was a man whoattracted little sympathy; and, although I saw him wince and shudder, Imentally indorsed the rebuke; nay, I added a contribution of my own. 

"Northmour and I, " I said, "are willing enough to help you to save yourlife, but not to escape with stolen property. "

He struggled for awhile with himself, as though he were on the point ofgiving way to anger, but prudence had the best of the controversy. 

"My dear boys, " he said, "do with me or my money what you will. I leaveall in your hands. Let me compose myself. "

And so we left him, gladly enough I am sure. 

The last that I saw, he had once more taken up his great Bible, and withtremulous hands was adjusting his spectacles to read. 

VII

The recollection of that afternoon will always be graven on my mind. Northmour and I were persuaded that an attack was imminent; and if it hadbeen in our power to alter in any way the order of events, that powerwould have been used to precipitate rather than delay the critical moment. The worst was to be anticipated; yet we could conceive no extremity somiserable as the suspense we were now suffering. I have never been aneager, though always a great, reader; but I never knew books so insipidas those which I took up and cast aside that afternoon in the pavilion. Even talk became impossible, as the hours went on. One or other was alwayslistening for some sound, or peering from an upstairs window over thelinks. And yet not a sign indicated the presence of our foes. 

We debated over and over again my proposal with regard to the money; andhad we been in complete possession of our faculties, I am sure we shouldhave condemned it as unwise; but we were flustered with alarm, grasped ata straw, and determined, although it was as much as advertising Mr. Huddlestone's presence in the pavilion, to carry my proposal into effect. 

The sum was part in specie, part in bank paper, and part in circular notespayable to the name of James Gregory. We took it out, counted it, inclosedit once more in a dispatch box belonging to Northmour, and prepared aletter in Italian which he tied to the handle. It was signed by both of usunder oath, and declared that this was all the money which had escaped thefailure of the house of Huddlestone. This was, perhaps, the maddest actionever perpetrated by two persons professing to be sane. Had the dispatchbox fallen into other hands than those for which it was intended, we stoodcriminally convicted on our own written testimony; but, as I have said, wewere neither of us in a condition to judge soberly, and had a thirst foraction that drove us to do something, right or wrong, rather than endurethe agony of waiting. Moreover, as we were both convinced that the hollowsof the links were alive with hidden spies upon our movements, we hopedthat our appearance with the box might lead to a parley, and, perhaps, acompromise. 

It was nearly three when we issued from the pavilion. The rain had takenoff; the sun shone quite cheerfully. I had never seen the gulls fly soclose about the house or approach so fearlessly to human beings. On thevery doorstep one flapped heavily past our heads, and uttered its wild cryin my very ear. 

"There is an omen for you, " said Northmour, who like all freethinkers wasmuch under the influence of superstition. "They think we are alreadydead. "

I made some light rejoinder, but it was with half my heart; for thecircumstance had impressed me. 

A yard or two before the gate, on a patch of smooth turf, we set down thedispatch box; and Northmour waved a white handkerchief over his head. Nothing replied. We raised our voices, and cried aloud in Italian that wewere there as ambassadors to arrange the quarrel, but the stillnessremained unbroken save by the seagulls and the surf. I had a weight at myheart when we desisted; and I saw that even Northmour was unusually pale. He looked over his shoulder nervously, as though he feared that some onehad crept between him and the pavilion door. 

"By God, " he said in a whisper, "this is too much for me!"

I replied in the same key: "Suppose there should be none, after all!"

"Look there, " he returned, nodding with his head, as though he had beenafraid to point. 

I glanced in the direction indicated; and there, from the northern quarterof the Sea-Wood, beheld a thin column of smoke rising steadily against thenow cloudless sky. 

"Northmour, " I said (we still continued to talk in whispers), "it is notpossible to endure this suspense. I prefer death fifty times over. Stayyou here to watch the pavilion; I will go forward and make sure, if I haveto walk right into their camp. "

He looked once again all round him with puckered eyes, and then noddedassentingly to my proposal. 

My heart beat like a sledge hammer as I set out walking rapidly in thedirection of the smoke; and, though up to that moment I had felt chill andshivering, I was suddenly conscious of a glow of heat all over my body. The ground in this direction was very uneven; a hundred men might havelain hidden in as many square yards about my path. But I who had notpracticed the business in vain, chose such routes as cut at the very rootof concealment, and, by keeping along the most convenient ridges, commanded several hollows at a time. It was not long before I was rewardedfor my caution. Coming suddenly on to a mound somewhat more elevated thanthe surrounding hummocks, I saw, not thirty yards away, a man bent almostdouble, and running as fast as his attitude permitted, along the bottom ofa gully. I had dislodged one of the spies from his ambush. As soon as Isighted him, I called loudly both in English and Italian; and he, seeingconcealment was no longer possible, straightened himself out, leaped fromthe gully, and made off as straight as an arrow for the borders of thewood. It was none of my business to pursue; I had learned what Iwanted--that we were beleaguered and watched in the pavilion; and Ireturned at once, and walked as nearly as possible in my old footsteps, towhere Northmour awaited me beside the dispatch box. He was even paler thanwhen I had left him, and his voice shook a little. 

"Could you see what he was like?" he asked. 

"He kept his back turned, " I replied. 

"Let us get into the house, Frank. I don't think I'm a coward, but I canstand no more of this, " he whispered. 

All was still and sunshiny about the pavilion, as we turned to reenter it;even the gulls had flown in a wider circuit, and were seen flickeringalong the beach and sand hills; and this loneliness terrified me more thana regiment under arms. It was not until the door was barricaded that Icould draw a full inspiration and relieve the weight that lay upon mybosom. Northmour and I exchanged a steady glance; and I suppose each madehis own reflections on the white and startled aspect of the other. 

"You were right, " I said. "All is over. Shake hands, old man, for the lasttime. "

"Yes, " replied he, "I will shake hands; for, as sure as I am here, I bearno malice. But, remember, if, by some impossible accident, we should givethe slip to these blackguards, I'll take the upper hand of you by fair orfoul. "

"Oh, " said I, "you weary me!"

He seemed hurt, and walked away in silence to the foot of the stairs, where he paused. 

"You do not understand, " said he. "I am not a swindler, and I guardmyself; that is all. I may weary you or not, Mr. Cassilis, I do not care arush; I speak for my own satisfaction, and not for your amusement. You hadbetter go upstairs and court the girl; for my part, I stay here. "

"And I stay with you, " I returned. "Do you think I would steal a march, even with your permission?"

"Frank, " he said, smiling, "it's a pity you are an ass, for you have themakings of a man. I think I must be _fey_ to-day; you cannot irritate meeven when you try. Do you know, " he continued softly, "I think we are thetwo most miserable men in England, you and I? we have got on to thirtywithout wife or child, or so much as a shop to look after--poor, pitiful, lost devils, both! And now we clash about a girl! As if there were notseveral millions in the United Kingdom! Ah, Frank, Frank, the one wholoses his throw, be it you or me, he has my pity! It were better forhim--how does the Bible say?--that a millstone were hanged about his neckand he were cast into the depth of the sea. Let us take a drink, " heconcluded suddenly, but without any levity of tone. 

I was touched by his words, and consented. He sat down on the table in thedining-room, and held up the glass of sherry to his eye. 

"If you beat me, Frank, " he said, "I shall take to drink. What will youdo, if it goes the other way?"

"God knows, " I returned. 

"Well, " said he, "here is a toast in the meantime: '_Italia irredenta_!'"

The remainder of the day was passed in the same dreadful tedium andsuspense. I laid the table for dinner, while Northmour and Clara preparedthe meal together in the kitchen. I could hear their talk as I went to andfro, and was surprised to find it ran all the time upon myself. Northmouragain bracketed us together, and rallied Clara on a choice of husbands;but he continued to speak of me with some feeling, and uttered nothing tomy prejudice unless he included himself in the condemnation. This awakeneda sense of gratitude in my heart, which combined with the immediateness ofour peril to fill my eyes with tears. After all, I thought--and perhapsthe thought was laughably vain--we were here three very noble human beingsto perish in defense of a thieving banker. 

Before we sat down to table, I looked forth from an upstairs window. Theday was beginning to decline; the links were utterly deserted; thedispatch box still lay untouched where we had left it hours before. 

Mr. Huddlestone, in a long yellow dressing gown, took one end of thetable, Clara the other; while Northmour and I faced each other from thesides. The lamp was brightly trimmed; the wine was good; the viands, although mostly cold, excellent of their sort. We seemed to have agreedtacitly; all reference to the impending catastrophe was carefully avoided;and, considering our tragic circumstances, we made a merrier party thancould have been expected. From time to time, it is true, Northmour or Iwould rise from table and make a round of the defenses; and, on each ofthese occasions, Mr. Huddlestone was recalled to a sense of his tragicpredicament, glanced up with ghastly eyes, and bore for an instant on hiscountenance the stamp of terror. But he hastened to empty his glass, wipedhis forehead with his handkerchief, and joined again in the conversation. 

I was astonished at the wit and information he displayed. Mr. Huddlestone's was certainly no ordinary character; he had read andobserved for himself; his gifts were sound; and, though I could never havelearned to love the man, I began to understand his success in business, and the great respect in which he had been held before his failure. Hehad, above all, the talent of society; and though I never heard him speakbut on this one and most unfavorable occasion, I set him down among themost brilliant conversationalists I ever met. 

He was relating with great gusto, and seemingly no feeling of shame, themaneuvers of a scoundrelly commission merchant whom he had known andstudied in his youth, and we were all listening with an odd mixture ofmirth and embarrassment, when our little party was brought abruptly to anend in the most startling manner. 

A noise like that of a wet finger on the window pane interrupted Mr. Huddlestone's tale; and in an instant we were all four as white as paper, and sat tongue-tied and motionless round the table. 

"A snail, " I said at last; for I had heard that these animals make a noisesomewhat similar in character. 

"Snail be d----d!" said Northmour. "Hush!"

The same sound was repeated twice at regular intervals; and then aformidable voice shouted through the shutters the Italian word, _"Traditore!"_

Mr. Huddlestone threw his head in the air; his eyelids quivered; nextmoment he fell insensible below the table. Northmour and I had each run tothe armory and seized a gun. Clara was on her feet with her hand at herthroat. 

So we stood waiting, for we thought the hour of attack was certainly come;but second passed after second, and all but the surf remained silent inthe neighborhood of the pavilion. 

"Quick, " said Northmour; "upstairs with him before they come. "

VIII

Somehow or other, by hook and crook, and between the three of us, we gotBernard Huddlestone bundled upstairs and laid upon the bed in My Uncle'sRoom. During the whole process, which was rough enough, he gave no sign ofconsciousness, and he remained, as we had thrown him, without changing theposition of a finger. His daughter opened his shirt and began to wet hishead and bosom; while Northmour and I ran to the window. The weathercontinued clear; the moon, which was now about full, had risen and shed avery clear light upon the links; yet, strain our eyes as we might, wecould distinguish nothing moving. A few dark spots, more or less, on theuneven expanse were not to be identified; they might be crouching men, they might be shadows; it was impossible to be sure. 

"Thank God, " said Northmour, "Aggie is not coming to-night. "

Aggie was the name of the old nurse; he had not thought of her until now;but that he should think of her at all was a trait that surprised me inthe man. 

We were again reduced to waiting. Northmour went to the fireplace andspread his hands before the red embers, as if he were cold. I followed himmechanically with my eyes, and in so doing turned my back upon the window. At that moment a very faint report was audible from without, and a ballshivered a pane of glass, and buried itself in the shutter two inches frommy head. I heard Clara scream; and though I whipped instantly out of rangeand into a corner, she was there, so to speak, before me, beseeching toknow if I were hurt. I felt that I could stand to be shot at every day andall day long, with such remarks of solicitude for a reward; and Icontinued to reassure her, with, the tenderest caresses and in completeforgetfulness of our situation, till the voice of Northmour recalled me tomyself. 

"An air gun, " he said. "They wish to make no noise. "

I put Clara aside, and looked at him. He was standing with his back to thefire and his hands clasped behind him; and I knew by the black look on hisface, that passion was boiling within. I had seen just such a look beforehe attacked me, that March night, in the adjoining chamber; and, though Icould make every allowance for his anger, I confess I trembled for theconsequences. He gazed straight before him; but he could see us with thetail of his eye, and his temper kept rising like a gale of wind. Withregular battle awaiting us outside, this prospect of an internecine strifewithin the walls began to daunt me. 

Suddenly, as I was thus closely watching his expression and preparedagainst the worst, I saw a change, a flash, a look of relief, upon hisface. He took up the lamp which stood beside him on the table, and turnedto us with an air of some excitement. 

"There is one point that we must know, " said he. "Are they going tobutcher the lot of us, or only Huddlestone? Did they take you for him, orfire at you for your own _beaux yeux_?"

"They took me for him, for certain, " I replied. "I am near as tall, and myhead is fair. "

"I am going to make sure, " returned Northmour; and he stepped up to thewindow, holding the lamp above his head, and stood there, quietlyaffronting death, for half a minute. 

Clara sought to rush forward and pull him from the place of danger; but Ihad the pardonable selfishness to hold her back by force. 

"Yes, " said Northmour, turning coolly from the window, "it's onlyHuddlestone they want. "

"Oh, Mr. Northmour!" cried Clara; but found no more to add; the temerityshe had just witnessed seeming beyond, the reach of words. 

He, on his part, looked at me, cocking his head, with a fire of triumph inhis eyes; and I understood at once that he had thus hazarded his life, merely to attract Clara's notice, and depose me from my position as thehero of the hour. He snapped his fingers. 

"The fire is only beginning, " said he. "When they warm up to their work, they won't be so particular. "

A voice was now heard hailing us from the entrance. From the window wecould see the figure of a man in the moonlight; he stood motionless, hisface uplifted to ours, and a rag of something white on his extended arm;and as we looked right down upon him, though he was a good many yardsdistant on the links, we could see the moonlight glitter on his eyes. 

He opened his lips again, and spoke for some minutes on end, in a key soloud that he might have been heard in every corner of the pavilion, and asfar away as the borders of the wood. It was the same voice that hadalready shouted, _"Traditore!"_ through the shutters of the dining-room;this time it made a complete and clear statement. If the traitor"Oddlestone" were given up, all others should be spared; if not, no oneshould escape to tell the tale. 

"Well, Huddlestone, what do you say to that?" asked Northmour, turning tothe bed. 

Up to that moment the banker had given no sign of life, and I, at least, had supposed him to be still lying in a faint; but he replied at once, andin such tones as I have never heard elsewhere, save from a deliriouspatient, adjured and besought us not to desert him. It was the mosthideous and abject performance that my imagination can conceive. 

"Enough, " cried Northmour; and then he threw open the window, leaned outinto the night, and in a tone of exultation, and with a totalforgetfulness of what was due to the presence of a lady, poured out uponthe ambassador a string of the most abominable raillery both in Englishand Italian, and bade him be gone where he had come from. I believe thatnothing so delighted Northmour at that moment as the thought that we mustall infallibly perish before the night was out. 

Meantime, the Italian put his flag of truce into his pocket, anddisappeared, at a leisurely pace, among the sand hills. 

"They make honorable war, " said Northmour. "They are all gentlemen andsoldiers. For the credit of the thing, I wish we could change sides--youand I, Frank, and you, too, missy, my darling--and leave that being on thebed to some one else. Tut! Don't look shocked! We are all going post towhat they call eternity, and may as well be above board while there'stime. As far as I am concerned, if I could first strangle Huddlestone andthen get Clara in my arms, I could die with some pride and satisfaction. And as it is, by God, I'll have a kiss!"

Before I could do anything to interfere, he had rudely embraced andrepeatedly kissed the resisting girl. Next moment I had pulled him awaywith fury, and flung him heavily against the wall. He laughed loud andlong, and I feared his wits had given way under the strain; for even inthe best of days he had been a sparing and a quiet laugher. 

"Now, Frank, " said he, when his mirth was somewhat appeased, "it's yourturn. Here's my hand. Good-bye, farewell!" Then, seeing me stand rigid andindignant, and holding Clara to my side--"Man!" he broke out, "are youangry? Did you think we were going to die with all the airs and graces ofsociety? I took a kiss; I'm glad I did it; and now you can take another ifyou like, and square accounts. "

I turned from him with a feeling of contempt which I did not seek todissemble. 

"As you please, " said he. "You've been a prig in life; a prig you'll die. "

And with that he sat down in a chair, a rifle over his knee, and amusedhimself with snapping the lock; but I could see that his ebullition oflight spirits (the only one I ever knew him to display) had already cometo an end, and was succeeded by a sullen, scowling humor. 

All this time our assailants might have been entering the house, and webeen none the wiser; we had in truth almost forgotten the danger that soimminently overhung our days. But just then Mr. Huddlestone uttered a cry, and leaped from the bed. 

I asked him what was wrong. 

"Fire!" he cried. "They have set the house on fire!"

Northmour was on his feet in an instant, and he and I ran through the doorof communication with the study. The room was illuminated by a red andangry light. Almost at the moment of our entrance, a tower of flame arosein front of the window, and, with a tingling report, a pane fell inward onthe carpet. They had set fire to the lean-to outhouse, where Northmourused to nurse his negatives. 

"Hot work, " said Northmour. "Let us try in your old room. "

We ran thither in a breath, threw up the casement, and looked forth. Alongthe whole back wall of the pavilion piles of fuel had been arranged andkindled; and it is probable they had been drenched with mineral oil, for, in spite of the morning's rain, they all burned bravely. The fire hadtaken a firm hold already on the outhouse, which blazed higher and higherevery moment; the back door was in the center of a red-hot bonfire; theeaves we could see, as we looked upward, were already smoldering, for theroof overhung, and was supported by considerable beams of wood. At thesame time, hot, pungent, and choking volumes of smoke began to fill thehouse. There was not a human being to be seen to right or left. 

"Ah, well!" said Northmour, "here's the end, thank God!"

And we returned to My Uncle's Room. Mr. Huddlestone was putting on hisboots, still violently trembling, but with an air of determination such asI had not hitherto observed. Clara stood close by him, with her cloak inboth hands ready to throw about her shoulders, and a strange look in hereyes, as if she were half hopeful, half doubtful of her father. 

"Well, boys and girls, " said Northmour, "how about a sally? The oven isheating; it is not good to stay here and be baked; and, for my part, Iwant to come to my hands with them, and be done. "

"There's nothing else left, " I replied. 

And both Clara and Mr. Huddlestone, though with a very differentintonation, added, "Nothing. "

As we went downstairs the heat was excessive, and the roaring of the firefilled our ears; and we had scarce reached the passage before the stairswindow fell in, a branch of flame shot brandishing through the aperture, and the interior of the pavilion became lighted up with that dreadful andfluctuating glare. At the same moment we heard the fall of something heavyand inelastic in the upper story. The whole pavilion, it was plain, hadgone alight like a box of matches, and now not only flamed sky high toland and sea, but threatened with every moment to crumble and fall inabout our ears. 

Northmour and I cocked our revolvers. Mr. Huddlestone, who had alreadyrefused a firearm, put us behind him with a manner of command. 

"Let Clara open the door, " said he. "So, if they fire a volley, she willbe protected. And in the meantime stand behind me. I am the scapegoat; mysins have found me out. "

I heard him, as I stood breathless by his shoulder, with my pistol ready, pattering off prayers in a tremulous, rapid whisper; and, I confess, horrid as the thought may seem, I despised him for thinking ofsupplications in a moment so critical and thrilling. In the meantime, Clara, who was dead white but still possessed her faculties, had displacedthe barricade from the front door. Another moment, and she had pulled itopen. Firelight and moonlight illuminated the links with confused andchangeful luster, and far away against the sky we could see a long trailof glowing smoke. 

Mr. Huddlestone, filled for the moment with a strength greater than hisown, struck Northmour and myself a back-hander in the chest; and while wewere thus for the moment incapacitated from action, lifting his arms abovehis head like one about to dive, he ran straight forward out of thepavilion. 

"Here am I!" he cried--"Huddlestone! Kill me, and spare the others!"

His sudden appearance daunted, I suppose, our hidden enemies; forNorthmour and I had time to recover, to seize Clara between us, one byeach arm, and to rush forth to his assistance, ere anything further hadtaken place. But scarce had we passed the threshold when there came near adozen reports and flashes from every direction among the hollows of thelinks. Mr. Huddlestone staggered, uttered a weird and freezing cry, threwup his arms over his head, and fell backward on the turf. 

_"Traditore! Traditore!"_ cried the invisible avengers. 

And just then a part of the roof of the pavilion fell in, so rapid was theprogress of the fire. A loud, vague, and horrible noise accompanied thecollapse, and a vast volume of flame went soaring up to heaven. It musthave been visible at that moment from twenty miles out at sea, from theshore at Graden Wester, and far inland from the peak of Graystiel, themost eastern summit of the Caulder Hills. Bernard Huddlestone, althoughGod knows what were his obsequies, had a fine pyre at the moment of hisdeath. 

IX

I should have the greatest difficulty to tell you what followed next afterthis tragic circumstance. It is all to me, as I look back upon it, mixed, strenuous, and ineffectual, like the struggles of a sleeper in anightmare. Clara, I remember, uttered a broken sigh and would have fallenforward to earth, had not Northmour and I supported her insensible body. Ido not think we were attacked: I do not remember even to have seen anassailant; and I believe we deserted Mr. Huddlestone without a glance. Ionly remember running like a man in a panic, now carrying Clara altogetherin my own arms, now sharing her weight with Northmour, now scufflingconfusedly for the possession of that dear burden. Why we should have madefor my camp in the Hemlock Den, or how we reached it, are points lostforever to my recollection. The first moment at which I became definitelysure, Clara had been suffered to fall against the outside of my littletent, Northmour and I were tumbling together on the ground, and he, withcontained ferocity, was striking for my head with the butt of hisrevolver. He had already twice wounded me on the scalp; and it is to theconsequent loss of blood that I am tempted to attribute the suddenclearness of my mind. 

I caught him by the wrist. 

"Northmour, " I remember saying, "you can kill me afterwards. Let us firstattend to Clara. "

He was at that moment uppermost. Scarcely had the words passed my lips, when he had leaped to his feet and ran toward the tent; and the nextmoment, he was straining Clara to his heart and covering her unconscioushands and face with his caresses. 

"Shame!" I cried. "Shame to you, Northmour!"

And, giddy though I still was, I struck him repeatedly upon the head andshoulders. 

He relinquished his grasp, and faced me in the broken moonlight. 

"I had you under, and I let you go, " said he; "and now you strike me!Coward!"

"You are the coward, " I retorted. "Did she wish your kisses while she wasstill sensible of what you wanted? Not she! And now she may be dying; andyou waste this precious time, and abuse her helplessness. Stand aside, andlet me help her. "

He confronted me for a moment, white and menacing; then suddenly hestepped aside. 

"Help her then, " said he. 

I threw myself on my knees beside her, and loosened, as well as I wasable, her dress and corset; but while I was thus engaged, a graspdescended on my shoulder. 

"Keep your hands off her, " said Northmour, fiercely. "Do you think I haveno blood in my veins?"

"Northmour, " I cried, "if you will neither help her yourself, nor let medo so, do you know that I shall have to kill you?"

"That is better!" he cried. "Let her die also, where's the harm? Stepaside from that girl! and stand up to fight. "

"You will observe, " said I, half rising, "that I have not kissed her yet. "

"I dare you to, " he cried. 

I do not know what possessed me; it was one of the things I am mostashamed of in my life, though, as my wife used to say, I knew that mykisses would be always welcome were she dead or living; down I fell againupon my knees, parted the hair from her forehead, and, with the dearestrespect, laid my lips for a moment on that cold brow. It was such a caressas a father might have given; it was such a one as was not unbecomingfrom a man soon to die to a woman already dead. 

"And now, " said I, "I am at your service, Mr. Northmour. "

But I saw, to my surprise, that he had turned his back upon me. 

"Do you hear?" I asked. 

"Yes, " said he, "I do. If you wish to fight, I am ready. If not, go on andsave Clara. All is one to me. "

I did not wait to be twice bidden; but, stooping again over Clara, continued my efforts to revive her. She still lay white and lifeless; Ibegan to fear that her sweet spirit had indeed fled beyond recall, andhorror and a sense of utter desolation seized upon my heart. I called herby name with the most endearing inflections; I chafed and beat her hands;now I laid her head low, now supported it against my knee; but all seemedto be in vain, and the lids still lay heavy on her eyes. 

"Northmour, " I said, "there is my hat. For God's sake bring some waterfrom the spring. "

Almost in a moment he was by my side with the water. 

"I have brought it in my own, " he said. "You do not grudge me theprivilege?"

"Northmour, " I was beginning to say, as I laved her head and breast; buthe interrupted me savagely. 

"Oh, you hush up!" he said. "The best thing you can do is to say nothing. "

I had certainly no desire to talk, my mind being swallowed up in concernfor my dear love and her condition; so I continued in silence to do mybest toward her recovery, and, when the hat was empty, returned it to him, with one word--"More. " He had, perhaps, gone several times upon thiserrand, when Clara reopened her eyes. 

"Now, " said he, "since she is better, you can spare me, can you not? Iwish you a good night, Mr. Cassilis. "

And with that he was gone among the thicket. I made a fire, for I had nowno fear of the Italians, who had even spared all the little possessionsleft in my encampment; and, broken as she was by the excitement and thehideous catastrophe of the evening, I managed, in one way or another--bypersuasion, encouragement, warmth, and such simple remedies as I could laymy hand on--to bring her back to some composure of mind and strength ofbody. 

Day had already come, when a sharp "Hist!" sounded from the thicket. Istarted from the ground; but the voice of Northmour was heard adding, inthe most tranquil tones: "Come here, Cassilis, and alone; I want to showyou something. "

I consulted Clara with my eyes, and, receiving her tacit permission, lefther alone, and clambered out of the den. At some distance off I sawNorthmour leaning against an elder; and, as soon as he perceived me, hebegan walking seaward. I had almost overtaken him as he reached theoutskirts of the wood. 

"Look, " said he, pausing. 

A couple of steps more brought me out of the foliage. The light of themorning lay cold and clear over that well-known scene. The pavilion wasbut a blackened wreck; the roof had fallen in, one of the gables hadfallen out; and, far and near, the face of the links was cicatrized withlittle patches of burned furze. Thick smoke still went straight upward inthe windless air of the morning, and a great pile of ardent cinders filledthe bare walls of the house, like coals in an open grate. Close by theislet a schooner yacht lay to, and a well-manned boat was pullingvigorously for the shore. 

"The 'Red Earl'!" I cried. "The 'Red Earl' twelve hours too late!"

"Feel in your pocket, Frank. Are you armed?" asked Northmour. 

I obeyed him, and I think I must have become deadly pale. My revolver hadbeen taken from me. 

"You see, I have you in my power, " he continued. "I disarmed you lastnight while you were nursing Clara; but this morning--here--take yourpistol. No thanks!" he cried, holding up his hand. "I do not like them;that is the only way you can annoy me now. "

He began to walk forward across the links to meet the boat, and I followeda step or two behind. In front of the pavilion I paused to see where Mr. Huddlestone had fallen; but there was no sign of him, nor so much as atrace of blood. 

"Graden Floe, " said Northmour. 

He continued to advance till we had come to the head of the beach. 

"No farther, please, " said he. "Would you like to take her to GradenHouse?"

"Thank you, " replied I; "I shall try to get her to the minister at GradenWester. "

The prow of the boat here grated on the beach, and a sailor jumped ashorewith a line in his hand. 

"Wait a minute, lads!" cried Northmour; and then lower and to my privateear, "You had better say nothing of all this to her, " he added. 

"On the contrary!" I broke out, "she shall know everything that I cantell. "

"You do not understand, " he returned, with an air of great dignity. "Itwill be nothing to her; she expects it of me. Good-by!" he added, with anod. 

I offered him my hand. 

"Excuse me, " said he. "It's small, I know; but I can't push things quiteso far as that. I don't wish any sentimental business, to sit by yourhearth a white-haired wanderer, and all that. Quite the contrary: I hopeto God I shall never again clap eyes on either one of you. "

"Well, God bless you, Northmour!" I said heartily. 

"Oh, yes, " he returned. 

He walked down the beach; and the man who was ashore gave him an arm onboard, and then shoved off and leaped into the bows himself. Northmourtook the tiller; the boat rose to the waves, and the oars between thetholepins sounded crisp and measured in the morning air. 

They were not yet half way to the "Red Earl, " and I was still watchingtheir progress, when the sun rose out of the sea. 

One word more, and my story is done. Years after, Northmour was killedfighting under the colors of Garibaldi for the liberation of the Tyrol. 

Wilkie Collins

_The Dream Woman_

_A Mystery in Four Narratives_

THE FIRST NARRATIVE

INTRODUCTORY STATEMENT OF THE FACTS BY PERCY FAIRBANK

I

"Hullo, there! Hostler! Hullo-o-o!"

"My dear! why don't you look for the bell?"

"I have looked--there is no bell. "

"And nobody in the yard. How very extraordinary! Call again, dear. "

"Hostler! Hullo, there! Hostler-r-r!"

My second call echoes through empty space, and rouses nobody--produces, inshort, no visible result. I am at the end of my resources--I don't knowwhat to say or what to do next. Here I stand in the solitary inn yard of astrange town, with two horses to hold, and a lady to take care of. By wayof adding to my responsibilities, it so happens that one of the horses isdead lame, and that the lady is my wife. 

Who am I?--you will ask. 

There is plenty of time to answer the question. Nothing happens; andnobody appears to receive us. Let me introduce myself and my wife. 

I am Percy Fairbank--English gentleman--age (let us say) forty--noprofession--moderate politics--middle height--fair complexion--easycharacter--plenty of money. 

My wife is a French lady. She was Mademoiselle Clotilde Delorge--when Iwas first presented to her at her father's house in France. I fell in lovewith her--I really don't know why. It might have been because I wasperfectly idle, and had nothing else to do at the time. Or it might havebeen because all my friends said she was the very last woman whom I oughtto think of marrying. On the surface, I must own, there is nothing incommon between Mrs. Fairbank and me. She is tall; she is dark; she isnervous, excitable, romantic; in all her opinions she proceeds toextremes. What could such a woman see in me? what could I see in her? Iknow no more than you do. In some mysterious manner we exactly suit eachother. We have been man and wife for ten years, and our only regret is, that we have no children. I don't know what you may think; I callthat--upon the whole--a happy marriage. 

So much for ourselves. The next question is--what has brought us into theinn yard? and why am I obliged to turn groom, and hold the horses?

We live for the most part in France--at the country house in which my wifeand I first met. Occasionally, by way of variety, we pay visits to myfriends in England. We are paying one of those visits now. Our host is anold college friend of mine, possessed of a fine estate in Somersetshire;and we have arrived at his house--called Farleigh Hall--toward the closeof the hunting season. 

On the day of which I am now writing--destined to be a memorable day inour calendar--the hounds meet at Farleigh Hall. Mrs. Fairbank and I aremounted on two of the best horses in my friend's stables. We are quiteunworthy of that distinction; for we know nothing and care nothing abouthunting. On the other hand, we delight in riding, and we enjoy the breezySpring morning and the fair and fertile English landscape surrounding uson every side. While the hunt prospers, we follow the hunt. But when acheck occurs--when time passes and patience is sorely tried; when thebewildered dogs run hither and thither, and strong language falls fromthe lips of exasperated sportsmen--we fail to take any further interest inthe proceedings. We turn our horses' heads in the direction of a grassylane, delightfully shaded by trees. We trot merrily along the lane, andfind ourselves on an open common. We gallop across the common, and followthe windings of a second lane. We cross a brook, we pass through avillage, we emerge into pastoral solitude among the hills. The horses tosstheir heads, and neigh to each other, and enjoy it as much as we do. Thehunt is forgotten. We are as happy as a couple of children; we areactually singing a French song--when in one moment our merriment comes toan end. My wife's horse sets one of his forefeet on a loose stone, andstumbles. His rider's ready hand saves him from falling. But, at the firstattempt he makes to go on, the sad truth shows itself--a tendon isstrained; the horse is lame. 

What is to be done? We are strangers in a lonely part of the country. Lookwhere we may, we see no signs of a human habitation. There is nothing forit but to take the bridle road up the hill, and try what we can discoveron the other side. I transfer the saddles, and mount my wife on my ownhorse. He is not used to carry a lady; he misses the familiar pressure ofa man's legs on either side of him; he fidgets, and starts, and kicks upthe dust. I follow on foot, at a respectful distance from his heels, leading the lame horse. Is there a more miserable object on the face ofcreation than a lame horse? I have seen lame men and lame dogs who werecheerful creatures; but I never yet saw a lame horse who didn't lookheartbroken over his own misfortune. 

For half an hour my wife capers and curvets sideways along the bridleroad. I trudge on behind her; and the heartbroken horse halts behind _me_. Hard by the top of the hill, our melancholy procession passes aSomersetshire peasant at work in a field. I summon the man to approach us;and the man looks at me stolidly, from the middle of the field, withoutstirring a step. I ask at the top of my voice how far it is to FarleighHall. The Somersetshire peasant answers at the top of _his_ voice:

"Vourteen mile. Gi' oi a drap o' zyder. "

I translate (for my wife's benefit) from the Somersetshire language intothe English language. We are fourteen miles from Farleigh Hall; and ourfriend in the field desires to be rewarded, for giving us thatinformation, with a drop of cider. There is the peasant, painted byhimself! Quite a bit of character, my dear! Quite a bit of character!

Mrs. Fairbank doesn't view the study of agricultural human nature with myrelish. Her fidgety horse will not allow her a moment's repose; she isbeginning to lose her temper. 

"We can't go fourteen miles in this way, " she says. "Where is the nearestinn? Ask that brute in the field!"

I take a shilling from my pocket and hold it up in the sun. The shillingexercises magnetic virtues. The shilling draws the peasant slowly towardme from the middle of the field. I inform him that we want to put up thehorses and to hire a carriage to take us back to Farleigh Hall. Where canwe do that? The peasant answers (with his eye on the shilling):

"At Oonderbridge, to be zure. " (At Underbridge, to be sure. )

"Is it far to Underbridge?"

The peasant repeats, "Var to Oonderbridge?"--and laughs at the question. "Hoo-hoo-hoo!" (Underbridge is evidently close by--if we could only findit. ) "Will you show us the way, my man?" "Will you gi' oi a drap ofzyder?" I courteously bend my head, and point to the shilling. Theagricultural intelligence exerts itself. The peasant joins our melancholyprocession. My wife is a fine woman, but he never once looks at mywife--and, more extraordinary still, he never even looks at the horses. His eyes are with his mind--and his mind is on the shilling. 

We reach the top of the hill--and, behold on the other side, nestling ina valley, the shrine of our pilgrimage, the town of Underbridge! Here ourguide claims his shilling, and leaves us to find out the inn forourselves. I am constitutionally a polite man. I say "Good morning" atparting. The guide looks at me with the shilling between his teeth to makesure that it is a good one. "Marnin!" he says savagely--and turns his backon us, as if we had offended him. A curious product, this, of the growthof civilization. If I didn't see a church spire at Underbridge, I mightsuppose that we had lost ourselves on a savage island. 

II

Arriving at the town, we had no difficulty in finding the inn. The town iscomposed of one desolate street; and midway in that street stands theinn--an ancient stone building sadly out of repair. The painting on thesign-board is obliterated. The shutters over the long range of frontwindows are all closed. A cock and his hens are the only living creaturesat the door. Plainly, this is one of the old inns of the stage-coachperiod, ruined by the railway. We pass through the open arched doorway, and find no one to welcome us. We advance into the stable yard behind; Iassist my wife to dismount--and there we are in the position alreadydisclosed to view at the opening of this narrative. No bell to ring. Nohuman creature to answer when I call. I stand helpless, with the bridlesof the horses in my hand. Mrs. Fairbank saunters gracefully down thelength of the yard and does--what all women do, when they find themselvesin a strange place. She opens every door as she passes it, and peeps in. On my side, I have just recovered my breath, I am on the point of shoutingfor the hostler for the third and last time, when I hear Mrs. Fairbanksuddenly call to me:

"Percy! come here!"

Her voice is eager and agitated. She has opened a last door at the end ofthe yard, and has started back from some sight which has suddenly met herview. I hitch the horses' bridles on a rusty nail in the wall near me, andjoin my wife. She has turned pale, and catches me nervously by the arm. 

"Good heavens!" she cries; "look at that!"

I look--and what do I see? I see a dingy little stable, containing twostalls. In one stall a horse is munching his corn. In the other a man islying asleep on the litter. 

A worn, withered, woebegone man in a hostler's dress. His hollow wrinkledcheeks, his scanty grizzled hair, his dry yellow skin, tell their own taleof past sorrow or suffering. There is an ominous frown on hiseyebrows--there is a painful nervous contraction on the side of his mouth. I hear him breathing convulsively when I first look in; he shudders andsighs in his sleep. It is not a pleasant sight to see, and I turn roundinstinctively to the bright sunlight in the yard. My wife turns me backagain in the direction of the stable door. 

"Wait!" she says. "Wait! he may do it again. "

"Do what again?"

"He was talking in his sleep, Percy, when I first looked in. He wasdreaming some dreadful dream. Hush! he's beginning again. "

I look and listen. The man stirs on his miserable bed. The man speaks in aquick, fierce whisper through his clinched teeth. "Wake up! Wake up, there! Murder!"

There is an interval of silence. He moves one lean arm slowly until itrests over his throat; he shudders, and turns on his straw; he raises hisarm from his throat, and feebly stretches it out; his hand clutches at thestraw on the side toward which he has turned; he seems to fancy that he isgrasping at the edge of something. I see his lips begin to move again; Istep softly into the stable; my wife follows me, with her hand fastclasped in mine. We both bend over him. He is talking once more in hissleep--strange talk, mad talk, this time. 

"Light gray eyes" (we hear him say), "and a droop in the lefteyelid--flaxen hair, with a gold-yellow streak in it--all right, mother!fair, white arms with a down on them--little, lady's hand, with a reddishlook round the fingernails--the knife--the cursed knife--first on oneside, then on the other--aha, you she-devil! where is the knife?"

He stops and grows restless on a sudden. We see him writhing on the straw. He throws up both his hands and gasps hysterically for breath. His eyesopen suddenly. For a moment they look at nothing, with a vacant glitter inthem--then they close again in deeper sleep. Is he dreaming still? Yes;but the dream seems to have taken a new course. When he speaks next, thetone is altered; the words are few--sadly and imploringly repeated overand over again. "Say you love me! I am so fond of _you_. Say you love me!say you love me!" He sinks into deeper and deeper sleep, faintly repeatingthose words. They die away on his lips. He speaks no more. 

By this time Mrs. Fairbank has got over her terror; she is devoured bycuriosity now. The miserable creature on the straw has appealed to theimaginative side of her character. Her illimitable appetite for romancehungers and thirsts for more. She shakes me impatiently by the arm. 

"Do you hear? There is a woman at the bottom of it, Percy! There is loveand murder in it, Percy! Where are the people of the inn? Go into theyard, and call to them again. "

My wife belongs, on her mother's side, to the South of France. The Southof France breeds fine women with hot tempers. I say no more. Married menwill understand my position. Single men may need to be told that there areoccasions when we must not only love and honor--we must also obey--ourwives. 

I turn to the door to obey _my_ wife, and find myself confronted by astranger who has stolen on us unawares. The stranger is a tiny, sleepy, rosy old man, with a vacant pudding-face, and a shining bald head. Hewears drab breeches and gaiters, and a respectable square-tailed ancientblack coat. I feel instinctively that here is the landlord of the inn. 

"Good morning, sir, " says the rosy old man. "I'm a little hard of hearing. Was it you that was a-calling just now in the yard?"

Before I can answer, my wife interposes. She insists (in a shrill voice, adapted to our host's hardness of hearing) on knowing who that unfortunateperson is sleeping on the straw. "Where does he come from? Why does he saysuch dreadful things in his sleep? Is he married or single? Did he everfall in love with a murderess? What sort of a looking woman was she? Didshe really stab him or not? In short, dear Mr. Landlord, tell us the wholestory!"

Dear Mr. Landlord waits drowsily until Mrs. Fairbank has quite done--thendelivers himself of his reply as follows:

"His name's Francis Raven. He's an Independent Methodist. He wasforty-five year old last birthday. And he's my hostler. That's his story. "

My wife's hot southern temper finds its way to her foot, and expressesitself by a stamp on the stable yard. 

The landlord turns himself sleepily round, and looks at the horses. "Afine pair of horses, them two in the yard. Do you want to put 'em in mystables?" I reply in the affirmative by a nod. The landlord, bent onmaking himself agreeable to my wife, addresses her once more. "I'm a-goingto wake Francis Raven. He's an Independent Methodist. He was forty-fiveyear old last birthday. And he's my hostler. That's his story. "

Having issued this second edition of his interesting narrative, thelandlord enters the stable. We follow him to see how he will wake FrancisRaven, and what will happen upon that. The stable broom stands in acorner; the landlord takes it--advances toward the sleeping hostler--andcoolly stirs the man up with a broom as if he was a wild beast in a cage. Francis Raven starts to his feet with a cry of terror--looks at us wildly, with a horrid glare of suspicion in his eyes--recovers himself the nextmoment--and suddenly changes into a decent, quiet, respectableserving-man. 

"I beg your pardon, ma'am. I beg your pardon, sir. "

The tone and manner in which he makes his apologies are both above hisapparent station in life. I begin to catch the infection of Mrs. Fairbank's interest in this man. We both follow him out into the yard tosee what he will do with the horses. The manner in which he lifts theinjured leg of the lame horse tells me at once that he understands hisbusiness. Quickly and quietly, he leads the animal into an empty stable;quickly and quietly, he gets a bucket of hot water, and puts the lamehorse's leg into it. "The warm water will reduce the swelling, sir. I willbandage the leg afterwards. " All that he does is done intelligently; allthat he says, he says to the purpose. 

Nothing wild, nothing strange about him now. Is this the same man whom weheard talking in his sleep?--the same man who woke with that cry of terrorand that horrid suspicion in his eyes? I determine to try him with one ortwo questions. 

III

"Not much to do here, " I say to the hostler. 

"Very little to do, sir, " the hostler replies. 

"Anybody staying in the house?"

"The house is quite empty, sir. "

"I thought you were all dead. I could make nobody hear me. "

"The landlord is very deaf, sir, and the waiter is out on an errand. "

"Yes; and _you_ were fast asleep in the stable. Do you often take a nap inthe daytime?"

The worn face of the hostler faintly flushes. His eyes look away from myeyes for the first time. Mrs. Fairbank furtively pinches my arm. Are we onthe eve of a discovery at last? I repeat my question. The man has no civilalternative but to give me an answer. The answer is given in these words:

"I was tired out, sir. You wouldn't have found me asleep in the daytimebut for that. "

"Tired out, eh? You had been hard at work, I suppose?"

"No, sir. "

"What was it, then?"

He hesitates again, and answers unwillingly, "I was up all night. "

"Up all night? Anything going on in the town?"

"Nothing going on, sir. "

"Anybody ill?"

"Nobody ill, sir. "

That reply is the last. Try as I may, I can extract nothing more from him. He turns away and busies himself in attending to the horse's leg. I leavethe stable to speak to the landlord about the carriage which is to take usback to Farleigh Hall. Mrs. Fairbank remains with the hostler, and favorsme with a look at parting. The look says plainly, "_I_ mean to find outwhy he was up all night. Leave him to Me. "

The ordering of the carriage is easily accomplished. The inn possesses onehorse and one chaise. The landlord has a story to tell of the horse, and astory to tell of the chaise. They resemble the story of FrancisRaven--with this exception, that the horse and chaise belong to noreligious persuasion. "The horse will be nine year old next birthday. I'vehad the shay for four-and-twenty year. Mr. Max, of Underbridge, he bredthe horse; and Mr. Pooley, of Yeovil, he built the shay. It's my horse andmy shay. And that's _their_ story!" Having relieved his mind of thesedetails, the landlord proceeds to put the harness on the horse. By way ofassisting him, I drag the chaise into the yard. Just as our preparationsare completed, Mrs. Fairbank appears. A moment or two later the hostlerfollows her out. He has bandaged the horse's leg, and is now ready todrive us to Farleigh Hall. I observe signs of agitation in his face andmanner, which suggest that my wife has found her way into his confidence. I put the question to her privately in a corner of the yard. "Well? Haveyou found out why Francis Raven was up all night?"

Mrs. Fairbank has an eye to dramatic effect. Instead of answering plainly, Yes or No, she suspends the interest and excites the audience by putting aquestion on her side. 

"What is the day of the month, dear?"

"The day of the month is the first of March. "

"The first of March, Percy, is Francis Raven's birthday. "

I try to look as if I was interested--and don't succeed. 

"Francis was born, " Mrs. Fairbank proceeds gravely, "at two o'clock in themorning. "

I begin to wonder whether my wife's intellect is going the way of thelandlord's intellect. "Is that all?" I ask. 

"It is _not_ all, " Mrs. Fairbank answers. "Francis Raven sits up on themorning of his birthday because he is afraid to go to bed. "

"And why is he afraid to go to bed?"

"Because he is in peril of his life. "

"On his birthday?"

"On his birthday. At two o'clock in the morning. As regularly as thebirthday comes round. "

There she stops. Has she discovered no more than that? No more thus far. Ibegin to feel really interested by this time. I ask eagerly what it means?Mrs. Fairbank points mysteriously to the chaise--with Francis Raven(hitherto our hostler, now our coachman) waiting for us to get in. Thechaise has a seat for two in front, and a seat for one behind. My wifecasts a warning look at me, and places herself on the seat in front. 

The necessary consequence of this arrangement is that Mrs. Fairbank sitsby the side of the driver during a journey of two hours and more. Need Istate the result? It would be an insult to your intelligence to state theresult. Let me offer you my place in the chaise. And let Francis Raventell his terrible story in his own words. 

THE SECOND NARRATIVE

THE HOSTLER'S STORY. --TOLD BY HIMSELF

IV

It is now ten years ago since I got my first warning of the great troubleof my life in the Vision of a Dream. 

I shall be better able to tell you about it if you will please supposeyourselves to be drinking tea along with us in our little cottage inCambridgeshire, ten years since. 

The time was the close of day, and there were three of us at the table, namely, my mother, myself, and my mother's sister, Mrs. Chance. These twowere Scotchwomen by birth, and both were widows. There was no otherresemblance between them that I can call to mind. My mother had lived allher life in England, and had no more of the Scotch brogue on her tonguethan I have. My aunt Chance had never been out of Scotland until she cameto keep house with my mother after her husband's death. And when _she_opened her lips you heard broad Scotch, I can tell you, if you ever heardit yet!

As it fell out, there was a matter of some consequence in debate among usthat evening. It was this: whether I should do well or not to take a longjourney on foot the next morning. 

Now the next morning happened to be the day before my birthday; and thepurpose of the journey was to offer myself for a situation as groom at agreat house in the neighboring county to ours. The place was reported aslikely to fall vacant in about three weeks' time. I was as well fitted tofill it as any other man. In the prosperous days of our family, my fatherhad been manager of a training stable, and he had kept me employed amongthe horses from my boyhood upward. Please to excuse my troubling you withthese small matters. They all fit into my story farther on, as you willsoon find out. My poor mother was dead against my leaving home on themorrow. 

"You can never walk all the way there and all the way back again byto-morrow night, " she says. "The end of it will be that you will sleepaway from home on your birthday. You have never done that yet, Francis, since your father's death, I don't like your doing it now. Wait a daylonger, my son--only one day. "

For my own part, I was weary of being idle, and I couldn't abide thenotion of delay. Even one day might make all the difference. Some otherman might take time by the forelock, and get the place. 

"Consider how long I have been out of work, " I says, "and don't ask me toput off the journey. I won't fail you, mother. I'll get back by to-morrownight, if I have to pay my last sixpence for a lift in a cart. 

My mother shook her head. "I don't like it, Francis--I don't like it!"There was no moving her from that view. We argued and argued, until wewere both at a deadlock. It ended in our agreeing to refer the differencebetween us to my mother's sister, Mrs. Chance. 

While we were trying hard to convince each other, my aunt Chance sat asdumb as a fish, stirring her tea and thinking her own thoughts. When wemade our appeal to her, she seemed as it were to wake up. "Ye baith referit to my puir judgment?" she says, in her broad Scotch. We both answeredYes. Upon that my aunt Chance first cleared the tea-table, and then pulledout from the pocket of her gown a pack of cards. 

Don't run away, if you please, with the notion that this was done lightly, with a view to amuse my mother and me. My aunt Chance seriously believedthat she could look into the future by telling fortunes on the cards. Shedid nothing herself without first consulting the cards. She could give nomore serious proof of her interest in my welfare than the proof which shewas offering now. I don't say it profanely; I only mention the fact--thecards had, in some incomprehensible way, got themselves jumbled uptogether with her religious convictions. You meet with people nowadays whobelieve in spirits working by way of tables and chairs. On the sameprinciple (if there _is_ any principle in it) my aunt Chance believed inProvidence working by way of the cards. 

"Whether _you_ are right, Francie, or your mither--whether ye will do weelor ill, the morrow, to go or stay--the cairds will tell it. We are a' inthe hands of Proavidence. The cairds will tell it. "

Hearing this, my mother turned her head aside, with something of a sourlook in her face. Her sister's notions about the cards were little betterthan flat blasphemy to her mind. But she kept her opinion to herself. Myaunt Chance, to own the truth, had inherited, through her late husband, apension of thirty pounds a year. This was an important contribution to ourhousekeeping, and we poor relations were bound to treat her with a certainrespect. As for myself, if my poor father never did anything else for mebefore he fell into difficulties, he gave me a good education, and raisedme (thank God) above superstitions of all sorts. However, a very littleamused me in those days; and I waited to have my fortune told, aspatiently as if I believed in it too!

My aunt began her hocus pocus by throwing out all the cards in the packunder seven. She shuffled the rest with her left hand for luck; and thenshe gave them to me to cut. "Wi' yer left hand, Francie. Mind that! Petyour trust in Proavidence--but dinna forget that your luck's in yer lefthand!" A long and roundabout shifting of the cards followed, reducing themin number until there were just fifteen of them left, laid out neatlybefore my aunt in a half circle. The card which happened to lie outermost, at the right-hand end of the circle, was, according to rule in such cases, the card chosen to represent Me. By way of being appropriate to mysituation as a poor groom out of employment, the card was--the King ofDiamonds. 

"I tak' up the King o' Diamants, " says my aunt. "I count seven cairds fra'richt to left; and I humbly ask a blessing on what follows. " My aunt shuther eyes as if she was saying grace before meat, and held up to me theseventh card. I called the seventh card--the Queen of Spades. My auntopened her eyes again in a hurry, and cast a sly look my way. "The Queeno' Spades means a dairk woman. Ye'll be thinking in secret, Francie, of adairk woman?"

When a man has been out of work for more than three months, his mind isn'ttroubled much with thinking of women--light or dark. I was thinking of thegroom's place at the great house, and I tried to say so. My aunt Chancewouldn't listen. She treated my interpretation with contempt. "Hoot-toot!there's the caird in your hand! If ye're no thinking of her the day, ye'llbe thinking of her the morrow. Where's the harm of thinking of a dairkwoman! I was ance a dairk woman myself, before my hair was gray. Haud yerpeace, Francie, and watch the cairds. "

I watched the cards as I was told. There were seven left on the table. Myaunt removed two from one end of the row and two from the other, anddesired me to call the two outermost of the three cards now left on thetable. I called the Ace of Clubs and the Ten of Diamonds. My aunt Chancelifted her eyes to the ceiling with a look of devout gratitude whichsorely tried my mother's patience. The Ace of Clubs and the Ten ofDiamonds, taken together, signified--first, good news (evidently the newsof the groom's place); secondly, a journey that lay before me (pointingplainly to my journey to-morrow!); thirdly and lastly, a sum of money(probably the groom's wages!) waiting to find its way into my pockets. Having told my fortune in these encouraging terms, my aunt declined tocarry the experiment any further. "Eh, lad! it's a clean tempting o'Proavidence to ask mair o' the cairds than the cairds have tauld us noo. Gae yer ways to-morrow to the great hoose. A dairk woman will meet ye atthe gate; and she'll have a hand in getting ye the groom's place, wi' a'the gratifications and pairquisites appertaining to the same. And, mebbe, when yer poaket's full o' money, ye'll no' be forgetting yer aunt Chance, maintaining her ain unblemished widowhood--wi' Proavidence assisting--onthratty punds a year!"

I promised to remember my aunt Chance (who had the defect, by the way, ofbeing a terribly greedy person after money) on the next happy occasionwhen my poor empty pockets were to be filled at last. This done, I lookedat my mother. She had agreed to take her sister for umpire between us, andher sister had given it in my favor. She raised no more objections. Silently, she got on her feet, and kissed me, and sighed bitterly--and soleft the room. My aunt Chance shook her head. "I doubt, Francie, yer puirmither has but a heathen notion of the vairtue of the cairds!"

By daylight the next morning I set forth on my journey. I looked back atthe cottage as I opened the garden gate. At one window was my mother, withher handkerchief to her eyes. At the other stood my aunt Chance, holdingup the Queen of Spades by way of encouraging me at starting. I waved myhands to both of them in token of farewell, and stepped out briskly intothe road. It was then the last day of February. Be pleased to remember, inconnection with this, that the first of March was the day, and two o'clockin the morning the hour of my birth. 

V

Now you know how I came to leave home. The next thing to tell is, whathappened on the journey. 

I reached the great house in reasonably good time considering thedistance. At the very first trial of it, the prophecy of the cards turnedout to be wrong. The person who met me at the lodge gate was not a darkwoman--in fact, not a woman at all--but a boy. He directed me on the wayto the servants' offices; and there again the cards were all wrong. Iencountered, not one woman, but three--and not one of the three was dark. I have stated that I am not superstitious, and I have told the truth. ButI must own that I did feel a certain fluttering at the heart when I mademy bow to the steward, and told him what business had brought me to thehouse. His answer completed the discomfiture of aunt Chance'sfortune-telling. My ill-luck still pursued me. That very morning anotherman had applied for the groom's place, and had got it. 

I swallowed my disappointment as well as I could, and thanked the steward, and went to the inn in the village to get the rest and food which I sorelyneeded by this time. 

Before starting on my homeward walk I made some inquiries at the inn, andascertained that I might save a few miles, on my return, by following anew road. Furnished with full instructions, several times repeated, as tothe various turnings I was to take, I set forth, and walked on till theevening with only one stoppage for bread and cheese. Just as it wasgetting toward dark, the rain came on and the wind began to rise; and Ifound myself, to make matters worse, in a part of the country with which Iwas entirely unacquainted, though I guessed myself to be some fifteenmiles from home. The first house I found to inquire at, was a lonelyroadside inn, standing on the outskirts of a thick wood. Solitary as theplace looked, it was welcome to a lost man who was also hungry, thirsty, footsore, and wet. The landlord was civil and respectable-looking; and theprice he asked for a bed was reasonable enough. I was grieved todisappoint my mother. But there was no conveyance to be had, and I couldgo no farther afoot that night. My weariness fairly forced me to stop atthe inn. 

I may say for myself that I am a temperate man. My supper simply consistedof some rashers of bacon, a slice of home-made bread, and a pint of ale. Idid not go to bed immediately after this moderate meal, but sat up withthe landlord, talking about my bad prospects and my long run of ill-luck, and diverging from these topics to the subjects of horse-flesh and racing. Nothing was said, either by myself, my host, or the few laborers whostrayed into the tap-room, which could, in the slightest degree, excitemy mind, or set my fancy--which is only a small fancy at the best oftimes--playing tricks with my common sense. 

At a little after eleven the house was closed. I went round with thelandlord, and held the candle while the doors and lower windows were beingsecured. I noticed with surprise the strength of the bolts, bars, andiron-sheathed shutters. 

"You see, we are rather lonely here, " said the landlord. "We never havehad any attempts to break in yet, but it's always as well to be on thesafe side. When nobody is sleeping here, I am the only man in the house. My wife and daughter are timid, and the servant girl takes after hermissuses. Another glass of ale, before you turn in?--No!--Well, how such asober man as you comes to be out of a place is more than I can understandfor one. --Here's where you're to sleep. You're the only lodger to-night, and I think you'll say my missus has done her best to make youcomfortable. You're quite sure you won't have another glass of ale?--Verywell. Good night. "

It was half-past eleven by the clock in the passage as we went upstairs tothe bedroom. The window looked out on the wood at the back of the house. 

I locked my door, set my candle on the chest of drawers, and wearily gotme ready for bed. The bleak wind was still blowing, and the solemn, surging moan of it in the wood was very dreary to hear through the nightsilence. Feeling strangely wakeful, I resolved to keep the candle alightuntil I began to grow sleepy. The truth is, I was not quite myself. I wasdepressed in mind by my disappointment of the morning; and I was worn outin body by my long walk. Between the two, I own I couldn't face theprospect of lying awake in the darkness, listening to the dismal moan ofthe wind in the wood. 

Sleep stole on me before I was aware of it; my eyes closed, and I fell offto rest, without having so much as thought of extinguishing the candle. 

The next thing that I remember was a faint shivering that ran through mefrom head to foot, and a dreadful sinking pain at my heart, such as I hadnever felt before. The shivering only disturbed my slumbers--the pain wokeme instantly. In one moment I passed from a state of sleep to a state ofwakefulness--my eyes wide open--my mind clear on a sudden as if by amiracle. The candle had burned down nearly to the last morsel of tallow, but the unsnuffed wick had just fallen off, and the light was, for themoment, fair and full. 

Between the foot of the bed and the closet door, I saw a person in myroom. The person was a woman, standing looking at me, with a knife in herhand. It does no credit to my courage to confess it--but the truth _is_the truth. I was struck speechless with terror. There I lay with my eyeson the woman; there the woman stood (with the knife in her hand) with_her_ eyes on _me_. 

She said not a word as we stared each other in the face; but she movedafter a little--moved slowly toward the left-hand side of the bed. 

The light fell full on her face. A fair, fine woman, with yellowish flaxenhair, and light gray eyes, with a droop in the left eyelid. I noticedthese things and fixed them in my mind, before she was quite round at theside of the bed. Without saying a word; without any change in the stonystillness of her face; without any noise following her footfall, she camecloser and closer; stopped at the bed-head; and lifted the knife to stabme. I laid my arm over my throat to save it; but, as I saw the blowcoming, I threw my hand across the bed to the right side, and jerked mybody over that way, just as the knife came down, like lightning, within ahair's breadth of my shoulder. 

My eyes fixed on her arm and her hand--she gave me time to look at them asshe slowly drew the knife out of the bed. A white, well-shaped arm, with apretty down lying lightly over the fair skin. A delicate lady's hand, witha pink flush round the finger nails. 

She drew the knife out, and passed back again slowly to the foot of thebed; she stopped there for a moment looking at me; then she came onwithout saying a word; without any change in the stony stillness of herface; without any noise following her footfall--came on to the side of thebed where I now lay. 

Getting near me, she lifted the knife again, and I drew myself away to theleft side. She struck, as before right into the mattress, with a swiftdownward action of her arm; and she missed me, as before; by a hair'sbreadth. This time my eyes wandered from _her_ to the knife. It was likethe large clasp knives which laboring men use to cut their bread and baconwith. Her delicate little fingers did not hide more than two thirds of thehandle; I noticed that it was made of buckhorn, clean and shining as theblade was, and looking like new. 

For the second time she drew the knife out of the bed, and suddenly hid itaway in the wide sleeve of her gown. That done, she stopped by the bedsidewatching me. For an instant I saw her standing in that position--then thewick of the spent candle fell over into the socket. The flame dwindled toa little blue point, and the room grew dark. 

A moment, or less, if possible, passed so--and then the wick flared up, smokily, for the last time. My eyes were still looking for her over theright-hand side of the bed when the last flash of light came. Look as Imight, I could see nothing. The woman with the knife was gone. 

I began to get back to myself again. I could feel my heart beating; Icould hear the woeful moaning of the wind in the wood; I could leap up inbed, and give the alarm before she escaped from the house. "Murder! Wakeup there! Murder!"

Nobody answered to the alarm. I rose and groped my way through thedarkness to the door of the room. By that way she must have got in. Bythat way she must have gone out. 

The door of the room was fast locked, exactly as I had left it on going tobed! I looked at the window. Fast locked too!

Hearing a voice outside, I opened the door. There was the landlord, comingtoward me along the passage, with his burning candle in one hand, and hisgun in the other. 

"What is it?" he says, looking at me in no very friendly way. 

I could only answer in a whisper, "A woman, with a knife in her hand. Inmy room. A fair, yellow-haired woman. She jabbed at me with the knife, twice over. "

He lifted his candle, and looked at me steadily from head to foot. "Sheseems to have missed you--twice over. "

"I dodged the knife as it came down. It struck the bed each time. Go in, and see. "

The landlord took his candle into the bedroom immediately. In less than aminute he came out again into the passage in a violent passion. 

"The devil fly away with you and your woman with the knife! There isn't amark in the bedclothes anywhere. What do you mean by coming into a man'splace and frightening his family out of their wits by a dream?"

A dream? The woman who had tried to stab me, not a living human being likemyself? I began to shake and shiver. The horrors got hold of me at thebare thought of it. 

"I'll leave the house, " I said. "Better be out on the road in the rain anddark, than back in that room, after what I've seen in it. Lend me thelight to get my clothes by, and tell me what I'm to pay. "

The landlord led the way back with his light into the bedroom. "Pay?" sayshe. "You'll find your score on the slate when you go downstairs. Iwouldn't have taken you in for all the money you've got about you, if Ihad known your dreaming, screeching ways beforehand. Look at thebed--where's the cut of a knife in it? Look at the window--is the lockbursted? Look at the door (which I heard you fasten yourself)--is it brokein? A murdering woman with a knife in my house! You ought to be ashamed ofyourself!"

My eyes followed his hand as it pointed first to the bed--then to thewindow--then to the door. There was no gainsaying it. The bed sheet was assound as on the day it was made. The window was fast. The door hung on itshinges as steady as ever. I huddled my clothes on without speaking. Wewent downstairs together. I looked at the clock in the bar-room. The timewas twenty minutes past two in the morning. I paid my bill, and thelandlord let me out. The rain had ceased; but the night was dark, and thewind was bleaker than ever. Little did the darkness, or the cold, or thedoubt about the way home matter to _me_. My mind was away from all thesethings. My mind was fixed on the vision in the bedroom. What had I seentrying to murder me? The creature of a dream? Or that other creature fromthe world beyond the grave, whom men call ghost? I could make nothing ofit as I walked along in the night; I had made nothing by it bymidday--when I stood at last, after many times missing my road, on thedoorstep of home. 

VI

My mother came out alone to welcome me back. There were no secrets betweenus two. I told her all that had happened, just as I have told it to you. She kept silence till I had done. And then she put a question to me. 

"What time was it, Francis, when you saw the Woman in your Dream?"

I had looked at the clock when I left the inn, and I had noticed that thehands pointed to twenty minutes past two. Allowing for the time consumedin speaking to the landlord, and in getting on my clothes, I answered thatI must have first seen the Woman at two o'clock in the morning. In otherwords, I had not only seen her on my birthday, but at the hour of mybirth. 

My mother still kept silence. Lost in her own thoughts, she took me by thehand, and led me into the parlor. Her writing-desk was on the table bythe fireplace. She opened it, and signed to me to take a chair by herside. 

"My son! your memory is a bad one, and mine is fast failing me. Tell meagain what the Woman looked like. I want her to be as well known to bothof us, years hence, as she is now. "

I obeyed; wondering what strange fancy might be working in her mind. Ispoke; and she wrote the words as they fell from my lips:

"Light gray eyes, with a droop in the left eyelid. Flaxen hair, with agolden-yellow streak in it. White arms, with a down upon them. Little, lady's hands, with a rosy-red look about the finger nails. "

"Did you notice how she was dressed, Francis?"

"No, mother. "

"Did you notice the knife?"

"Yes. A large clasp knife, with a buckhorn handle, as good as new. "

My mother added the description of the knife. Also the year, month, day ofthe week, and hour of the day when the Dream-Woman appeared to me at theinn. That done, she locked up the paper in her desk. 

"Not a word, Francis, to your aunt. Not a word to any living soul. Keepyour Dream a secret between you and me. "

The weeks passed, and the months passed. My mother never returned to thesubject again. As for me, time, which wears out all things, wore out myremembrance of the Dream. Little by little, the image of the Woman grewdimmer and dimmer. Little by little, she faded out of my mind. 

VII

The story of the warning is now told. Judge for yourself if it was a truewarning or a false, when you hear what happened to me on my next birthday. 

In the Summer time of the year, the Wheel of Fortune turned the right wayfor me at last. I was smoking my pipe one day, near an old stone quarry atthe entrance to our village, when a carriage accident happened, which gavea new turn, as it were, to my lot in life. It was an accident of thecommonest kind--not worth mentioning at any length. A lady drivingherself; a runaway horse; a cowardly man-servant in attendance, frightenedout of his wits; and the stone quarry too near to be agreeable--that iswhat I saw, all in a few moments, between two whiffs of my pipe. I stoppedthe horse at the edge of the quarry, and got myself a little hurt by theshaft of the chaise. But that didn't matter. The lady declared I had savedher life; and her husband, coming with her to our cottage the next day, took me into his service then and there. The lady happened to be of a darkcomplexion; and it may amuse you to hear that my aunt Chance instantlypitched on that circumstance as a means of saving the credit of the cards. Here was the promise of the Queen of Spades performed to the very letter, by means of "a dark woman, " just as my aunt had told me. "In the time tocome, Francis, beware o' pettin' yer ain blinded intairpretation on thecairds. Ye're ower ready, I trow, to murmur under dispensation ofProavidence that ye canna fathom--like the Eesraelites of auld. I'll saynae mair to ye. Mebbe when the mony's powering into yer poakets, ye'll noforget yer aunt Chance, left like a sparrow on the housetop, wi' a sma'annuitee o' thratty punds a year. "

I remained in my situation (at the West-end of London) until the Spring ofthe New Year. About that time, my master's health failed. The doctorsordered him away to foreign parts, and the establishment was broken up. But the turn in my luck still held good. When I left my place, I leftit--thanks to the generosity of my kind master--with a yearly allowancegranted to me, in remembrance of the day when I had saved my mistress'slife. For the future, I could go back to service or not, as I pleased; mylittle income was enough to support my mother and myself. 

My master and mistress left England toward the end of February. Certainmatters of business to do for them detained me in London until the lastday of the month. I was only able to leave for our village by the eveningtrain, to keep my birthday with my mother as usual. It was bedtime when Igot to the cottage; and I was sorry to find that she was far from well. Tomake matters worse, she had finished her bottle of medicine on theprevious day, and had omitted to get it replenished, as the doctor hadstrictly directed. He dispensed his own medicines, and I offered to go andknock him up. She refused to let me do this; and, after giving me mysupper, sent me away to my bed. 

I fell asleep for a little, and woke again. My mother's bed-chamber wasnext to mine. I heard my aunt Chance's heavy footsteps going to and fro inthe room, and, suspecting something wrong, knocked at the door. Mymother's pains had returned upon her; there was a serious necessity forrelieving her sufferings as speedily as possible, I put on my clothes, andran off, with the medicine bottle in my hand, to the other end of thevillage, where the doctor lived. The church clock chimed the quarter totwo on my birthday just as I reached his house. One ring of the night bellbrought him to his bedroom window to speak to me. He told me to wait, andhe would let me in at the surgery door. I noticed, while I was waiting, that the night was wonderfully fair and warm for the time of year. The oldstone quarry where the carriage accident had happened was within view. Themoon in the clear heavens lit it up almost as bright as day. 

In a minute or two the doctor let me into the surgery. I closed the door, noticing that he had left his room very lightly clad. He kindly pardonedmy mother's neglect of his directions, and set to work at once atcompounding the medicine. We were both intent on the bottle; he fillingit, and I holding the light--when we heard the surgery door suddenlyopened from the street. 

VIII

Who could possibly be up and about in our quiet village at the second hourof the morning?

The person who opened the door appeared within range of the light of thecandle. To complete our amazement, the person proved to be a woman! Shewalked up to the counter, and standing side by side with me, lifted herveil. At the moment when she showed her face, I heard the church clockstrike two. She was a stranger to me, and a stranger to the doctor. Shewas also, beyond all comparison, the most beautiful woman I have ever seenin my life. 

"I saw the light under the door, " she said. "I want some medicine. "

She spoke quite composedly, as if there was nothing at all extraordinaryin her being out in the village at two in the morning, and following meinto the surgery to ask for medicine! The doctor stared at her as if hesuspected his own eyes of deceiving him. "Who are you?" he asked. "How doyou come to be wandering about at this time in the morning?"

She paid no heed to his questions. She only told him coolly what shewanted. "I have got a bad toothache. I want a bottle of laudanum. "

The doctor recovered himself when she asked for the laudanum. He was onhis own ground, you know, when it came to a matter of laudanum; and hespoke to her smartly enough this time. 

"Oh, you have got the toothache, have you? Let me look at the tooth. "

She shook her head, and laid a two-shilling piece on the counter. "I won'ttrouble you to look at the tooth, " she said. "There is the money. Let mehave the laudanum, if you please. "

The doctor put the two-shilling piece back again in her hand. "I don'tsell laudanum to strangers, " he answered. "If you are in any distress ofbody or mind, that is another matter. I shall be glad to help you. "

She put the money back in her pocket. "_You_ can't help me, " she said, asquietly as ever. "Good morning. "

With that, she opened the surgery door to go out again into the street. Sofar, I had not spoken a word on my side. I had stood with the candle in myhand (not knowing I was holding it)--with my eyes fixed on her, with mymind fixed on her like a man bewitched. Her looks betrayed, even moreplainly than her words, her resolution, in one way or another, to destroyherself. When she opened the door, in my alarm at what might happen Ifound the use of my tongue. 

"Stop!" I cried out. "Wait for me. I want to speak to you before you goaway. " She lifted her eyes with a look of careless surprise and a mockingsmile on her lips. 

"What can _you_ have to say to me?" She stopped, and laughed to herself. "Why not?" she said. "I have got nothing to do, and nowhere to go. " Sheturned back a step, and nodded to me. "You're a strange man--I think I'llhumor you--I'll wait outside. " The door of the surgery closed on her. Shewas gone. 

I am ashamed to own what happened next. The only excuse for me is that Iwas really and truly a man bewitched. I turned me round to follow her out, without once thinking of my mother. The doctor stopped me. 

"Don't forget the medicine, " he said. "And if you will take my advice, don't trouble yourself about that woman. Rouse up the constable. It's hisbusiness to look after her--not yours. "

I held out my hand for the medicine in silence: I was afraid I should failin respect if I trusted myself to answer him. He must have seen, as I saw, that she wanted the laudanum to poison herself. He had, to my mind, takena very heartless view of the matter. I just thanked him when he gave methe medicine--and went out. 

She was waiting for me as she had promised; walking slowly to and fro--atall, graceful, solitary figure in the bright moonbeams. They shed overher fair complexion, her bright golden hair, her large gray eyes, just thelight that suited them best. She looked hardly mortal when she firstturned to speak to me. 

"Well?" she said. "And what do you want?"

In spite of my pride, or my shyness, or my better sense--whichever itmight me--all my heart went out to her in a moment. I caught hold of herby the hands, and owned what was in my thoughts, as freely as if I hadknown her for half a lifetime. 

"You mean to destroy yourself, " I said. "And I mean to prevent you fromdoing it. If I follow you about all night, I'll prevent you from doingit. "

She laughed. "You saw yourself that he wouldn't sell me the laudanum. Doyou really care whether I live or die?" She squeezed my hands gently asshe put the question: her eyes searched mine with a languid, lingeringlook in them that ran through me like fire. My voice died away on my lips;I couldn't answer her. 

She understood, without my answering. "You have given me a fancy forliving, by speaking kindly to me, " she said. "Kindness has a wonderfuleffect on women, and dogs, and other domestic animals. It is only men whoare superior to kindness. Make your mind easy--I promise to take as muchcare of myself as if I was the happiest woman living! Don't let me keepyou here, out of your bed. Which way are you going?"

Miserable wretch that I was, I had forgotten my mother--with the medicinein my hand! "I am going home, " I said. "Where are you staying? At theinn?"

She laughed her bitter laugh, and pointed to the stone quarry. "There ismy inn for to-night, " she said. "When I got tired of walking about, Irested there. "

We walked on together, on my way home. I took the liberty of asking her ifshe had any friends. 

"I thought I had one friend left, " she said, "or you would never have metme in this place. It turns out I was wrong. My friend's door was closed inmy face some hours since; my friend's servants threatened me with thepolice. I had nowhere else to go, after trying my luck in yourneighborhood; and nothing left but my two-shilling piece and these rags onmy back. What respectable innkeeper would take _me_ into his house? Iwalked about, wondering how I could find my way out of the world withoutdisfiguring myself, and without suffering much pain. You have no river inthese parts. I didn't see my way out of the world, till I heard youringing at the doctor's house. I got a glimpse at the bottles in thesurgery, when he let you in, and I thought of the laudanum directly. Whatwere you doing there? Who is that medicine for? Your wife?"

"I am not married!"

She laughed again. "Not married! If I was a little better dressed theremight be a chance for ME. Where do you live? Here?"

We had arrived, by this time, at my mother's door. She held out her handto say good-by. Houseless and homeless as she was, she never asked me togive her a shelter for the night. It was my proposal that she should rest, under my roof, unknown to my mother and my aunt. Our kitchen was built outat the back of the cottage: she might remain there unseen and unhearduntil the household was astir in the morning. I led her into the kitchen, and set a chair for her by the dying embers of the fire. I dare say I wasto blame--shamefully to blame, if you like. I only wonder what _you_ wouldhave done in my place. On your word of honor as a man, would _you_ havelet that beautiful creature wander back to the shelter of the stone quarrylike a stray dog? God help the woman who is foolish enough to trust andlove you, if you would have done that!

I left her by the fire, and went to my mother's room. 

IX

If you have ever felt the heartache, you will know what I suffered insecret when my mother took my hand, and said, "I am sorry, Francis, thatyour night's rest has been disturbed through _me_. " I gave her themedicine; and I waited by her till the pains abated. My aunt Chance wentback to her bed; and my mother and I were left alone. I noticed that herwriting-desk, moved from its customary place, was on the bed by her side. She saw me looking at it. "This is your birthday, Francis, " she said. "Have you anything to tell me?" I had so completely forgotten my Dream, that I had no notion of what was passing in her mind when she said thosewords. For a moment there was a guilty fear in me that she suspectedsomething. I turned away my face, and said, "No, mother; I have nothing totell. " She signed to me to stoop down over the pillow and kiss her. "Godbless you, my love!" she said; "and many happy returns of the day. " Shepatted my hand, and closed her weary eyes, and, little by little, fell offpeaceably into sleep. 

I stole downstairs again. I think the good influence of my mother musthave followed me down. At any rate, this is true: I stopped with my handon the closed kitchen door, and said to myself: "Suppose I leave thehouse, and leave the village, without seeing her or speaking to her more?"

Should I really have fled from temptation in this way, if I had been leftto myself to decide? Who can tell? As things were, I was not left todecide. While my doubt was in my mind, she heard me, and opened thekitchen door. My eyes and her eyes met. That ended it. 

We were together, unsuspected and undisturbed, for the next two hours. Time enough for her to reveal the secret of her wasted life. Time enoughfor her to take possession of me as her own, to do with me as she liked. It is needless to dwell here on the misfortunes which had brought herlow; they are misfortunes too common to interest anybody. 

Her name was Alicia Warlock. She had been born and bred a lady. She hadlost her station, her character, and her friends. Virtue shuddered at thesight of her; and Vice had got her for the rest of her days. Shocking andcommon, as I told you. It made no difference to _me_. I have said italready--I say it again--I was a man bewitched. Is there anything so verywonderful in that? Just remember who I was. Among the honest women in myown station in life, where could I have found the like of _her_? Could_they_ walk as she walked? and look as she looked? When _they_ gave me akiss, did their lips linger over it as hers did? Had _they_ her skin, herlaugh, her foot, her hand, her touch? _She_ never had a speck of dirt onher: I tell you her flesh was a perfume. When she embraced me, her armsfolded round me like the wings of angels; and her smile covered me softlywith its light like the sun in heaven. I leave you to laugh at me, or tocry over me, just as your temper may incline. I am not trying to excusemyself--I am trying to explain. You are gentle-folks; what dazzled andmaddened _me_, is everyday experience to _you_. Fallen or not, angel ordevil, it came to this--she was a lady; and I was a groom. 

Before the house was astir, I got her away (by the workmen's train) to alarge manufacturing town in our parts. 

Here--with my savings in money to help her--she could get her outfit ofdecent clothes and her lodging among strangers who asked no questions solong as they were paid. Here--now on one pretense and now on another--Icould visit her, and we could both plan together what our future liveswere to be. I need not tell you that I stood pledged to make her my wife. A man in my station always marries a woman of her sort. 

Do you wonder if I was happy at this time? I should have been perfectlyhappy but for one little drawback. It was this: I was never quite at myease in the presence of my promised wife. 

I don't mean that I was shy with her, or suspicious of her, or ashamed ofher. The uneasiness I am speaking of was caused by a faint doubt in mymind whether I had not seen her somewhere, before the morning when we metat the doctor's house. Over and over again, I found myself wonderingwhether her face did not remind me of some other face--_what_ other Inever could tell. This strange feeling, this one question that could neverbe answered, vexed me to a degree that you would hardly credit. It camebetween us at the strangest times--oftenest, however, at night, when thecandles were lit. You have known what it is to try and remember aforgotten name--and to fail, search as you may, to find it in your mind. That was my case. I failed to find my lost face, just as you failed tofind your lost name. 

In three weeks we had talked matters over, and had arranged how I was tomake a clean breast of it at home. By Alicia's advice, I was to describeher as having been one of my fellow servants during the time I wasemployed under my kind master and mistress in London. There was no fearnow of my mother taking any harm from the shock of a great surprise. Herhealth had improved during the three weeks' interval. On the first eveningwhen she was able to take her old place at tea time, I summoned mycourage, and told her I was going to be married. The poor soul flung herarms round my neck, and burst out crying for joy. "Oh, Francis!" she says, "I am so glad you will have somebody to comfort you and care for you whenI am gone!" As for my aunt Chance, you can anticipate what _she_ did, without being told. Ah, me! If there had really been any prophetic virtuein the cards, what a terrible warning they might have given us that night!It was arranged that I was to bring my promised wife to dinner at thecottage on the next day. 

X

I own I was proud of Alicia when I led her into our little parlor at theappointed time. She had never, to my mind, looked so beautiful as shelooked that day. I never noticed any other woman's dress--I noticed hersas carefully as if I had been a woman myself! She wore a black silk gown, with plain collar and cuffs, and a modest lavender-colored bonnet, withone white rose in it placed at the side. My mother, dressed in her Sundaybest, rose up, all in a flutter, to welcome her daughter-in-law that wasto be. She walked forward a few steps, half smiling, half in tears--shelooked Alicia full in the face--and suddenly stood still. Her cheeksturned white in an instant; her eyes stared in horror; her hands droppedhelplessly at her sides. She staggered back, and fell into the arms of myaunt, standing behind her. It was no swoon--she kept her senses. Her eyesturned slowly from Alicia to me. "Francis, " she said, "does that woman'sface remind you of nothing?". 

Before I could answer, she pointed to her writing-desk on the table at thefireside. "Bring it!" she cried, "bring it!". 

At the same moment I felt Alicia's hand on my shoulder, and saw Alicia'sface red with anger--and no wonder!

"What does this mean?" she asked. "Does your mother want to insult me?". 

I said a few words to quiet her; what they were I don't remember--I was soconfused and astonished at the time. Before I had done, I heard my motherbehind me. 

My aunt had fetched her desk. She had opened it; she had taken a paperfrom it. Step by step, helping herself along by the wall, she came nearerand nearer, with the paper in her hand. She looked at the paper--shelooked in Alicia's face--she lifted the long, loose sleeve of her gown, and examined her hand and arm. I saw fear suddenly take the place of angerin Alicia's eyes. She shook herself free of my mother's grasp. "Mad!" shesaid to herself, "and Francis never told me!" With those words she ran outof the room. 

I was hastening out after her, when my mother signed to me to stop. Sheread the words written on the paper. While they fell slowly, one by one, from her lips, she pointed toward the open door. 

"Light gray eyes, with a droop in the left eyelid. Flaxen hair, with agold-yellow streak in it. White arms, with a down upon them. Little, lady's hand, with a rosy-red look about the finger nails. The Dream Woman, Francis! The Dream Woman!"

Something darkened the parlor window as those words were spoken. I lookedsidelong at the shadow. Alicia Warlock had come back! She was peering inat us over the low window blind. There was the fatal face which had firstlooked at me in the bedroom of the lonely inn. There, resting on thewindow blind, was the lovely little hand which had held the murderousknife. I _had_ seen her before we met in the village. The Dream Woman! TheDream Woman!

XI

I expect nobody to approve of what I have next to tell of myself. In threeweeks from the day when my mother had identified her with the Woman of theDream, I took Alicia Warlock to church, and made her my wife. I was a manbewitched. Again and again I say it--I was a man bewitched!

During the interval before my marriage, our little household at thecottage was broken up. My mother and my aunt quarreled. My mother, believing in the Dream, entreated me to break off my engagement. My aunt, believing in the cards, urged me to marry. 

This difference of opinion produced a dispute between them, in the courseof which my aunt Chance--quite unconscious of having any superstitiousfeelings of her own--actually set out the cards which prophesiedhappiness to me in my married life, and asked my mother how anybody but "ablinded heathen could be fule enough, after seeing those cairds, tobelieve in a dream!" This was, naturally, too much for my mother'spatience; hard words followed on either side; Mrs. Chance returned indudgeon to her friends in Scotland. She left me a written statement of myfuture prospects, as revealed by the cards, and with it an address atwhich a post-office order would reach her. "The day was not that far off, "she remarked, "when Francie might remember what he owed to his auntChance, maintaining her ain unbleemished widowhood on thratty punds ayear. "

Having refused to give her sanction to my marriage, my mother also refusedto be present at the wedding, or to visit Alicia afterwards. There was noanger at the bottom of this conduct on her part. Believing as she did inthis Dream, she was simply in mortal fear of my wife. I understood this, and I made allowances for her. Not a cross word passed between us. My onehappy remembrance now--though I did disobey her in the matter of mymarriage--is this: I loved and respected my good mother to the last. 

As for my wife, she expressed no regret at the estrangement between hermother-in-law and herself. By common consent, we never spoke on thatsubject. We settled in the manufacturing town which I have alreadymentioned, and we kept a lodging-house. My kind master, at my request, granted me a lump sum in place of my annuity. This put us into a goodhouse, decently furnished. For a while things went well enough. I maydescribe myself at this time of my life as a happy man. 

My misfortunes began with a return of the complaint with which my motherhad already suffered. The doctor confessed, when I asked him the question, that there was danger to be dreaded this time. Naturally, after hearingthis, I was a good deal away at the cottage. Naturally also, I left thebusiness of looking after the house, in my absence, to my wife. Little bylittle, I found her beginning to alter toward me. While my back wasturned, she formed acquaintances with people of the doubtful anddissipated sort. One day, I observed something in her manner which forcedthe suspicion on me that she had been drinking. Before the week was out, my suspicion was a certainty. From keeping company with drunkards, she hadgrown to be a drunkard herself. 

I did all a man could do to reclaim her. Quite useless! She had neverreally returned the love I felt for her: I had no influence; I could donothing. My mother, hearing of this last worse trouble, resolved to trywhat her influence could do. Ill as she was, I found her one day dressedto go out. 

"I am not long for this world, Francis, " she said. "I shall not feel easyon my deathbed, unless I have done my best to the last to make you happy. I mean to put my own fears and my own feelings out of the question, and gowith you to your wife, and try what I can do to reclaim her. Take me homewith you, Francis. Let me do all I can to help my son, before it is toolate. "

How could I disobey her? We took the railway to the town: it was only halfan hour's ride. By one o'clock in the afternoon we reached my house. Itwas our dinner hour, and Alicia was in the kitchen. I was able to take mymother quietly into the parlor and then to prepare my wife for the visit. She had drunk but little at that early hour; and, luckily, the devil inher was tamed for the time. 

She followed me into the parlor, and the meeting passed off better than Ihad ventured to forecast; with this one drawback, that my mother--thoughshe tried hard to control herself--shrank from looking my wife in the facewhen she spoke to her. It was a relief to me when Alicia began to preparethe table for dinner. 

She laid the cloth, brought in the bread tray, and cut some slices for usfrom the loaf. Then she returned to the kitchen. At that moment, while Iwas still anxiously watching my mother, I was startled by seeing the sameghastly change pass over her face which had altered it in the morningwhen Alicia and she first met. Before I could say a word, she started upwith a look of horror. 

"Take me back!--home, home again, Francis! Come with me, and never go backmore!"

I was afraid to ask for an explanation; I could only sign her to besilent, and help her quickly to the door. As we passed the bread tray onthe table, she stopped and pointed to it. 

"Did you see what your wife cut your bread with?" she asked. 

"No, mother; I was not noticing. What was it?"

"Look!"

I did look. A new clasp knife, with a buckhorn handle, lay with the loafin the bread tray. I stretched out my hand to possess myself of it. At thesame moment, there was a noise in the kitchen, and my mother caught me bythe arm. 

"The knife of the Dream! Francis, I'm faint with fear--take me away beforeshe comes back!"

I couldn't speak to comfort or even to answer her. Superior as I was tosuperstition, the discovery of the knife staggered me. In silence, Ihelped my mother out of the house; and took her home. 

I held out my hand to say good-by. She tried to stop me. 

"Don't go back, Francis! don't go back!". 

"I must get the knife, mother. I must go back by the next train. " I heldto that resolution. By the next train I went back. 

XII

My wife had, of course, discovered our secret departure from the house. She had been drinking. She was in a fury of passion. The dinner in thekitchen was flung under the grate; the cloth was off the parlor table. Where was the knife?

I was foolish enough to ask for it. She refused to give it to me. In thecourse of the dispute between us which followed, I discovered that therewas a horrible story attached to the knife. It had been used in amurder--years since--and had been so skillfully hidden that theauthorities had been unable to produce it at the trial. By help of some ofher disreputable friends, my wife had been able to purchase this relic ofa bygone crime. Her perverted nature set some horrid unacknowledged valueon the knife. Seeing there was no hope of getting it by fair means, Idetermined to search for it, later in the day, in secret. The search wasunsuccessful. Night came on, and I left the house to walk about thestreets. You will understand what a broken man I was by this time, when Itell you I was afraid to sleep in the same room with her!

Three weeks passed. Still she refused to give up the knife; and still thatfear of sleeping in the same room with her possessed me. I walked about atnight, or dozed in the parlor, or sat watching by my mother's bedside. Before the end of the first week in the new month, the worst misfortune ofall befell me--my mother died. It wanted then but a short time to mybirthday. She had longed to live till that day. I was present at herdeath. Her last words in this world were addressed to me. "Don't go back, my son--don't go back!"

I was obliged to go back, if it was only to watch my wife. In the lastdays of my mother's illness she had spitefully added a sting to my griefby declaring she would assert her right to attend the funeral. In spite ofall that I could do or say, she held to her word. On the day appointed forthe burial she forced herself, inflamed and shameless with drink, into mypresence, and swore she would walk in the funeral procession to mymother's grave. 

This last insult--after all I had gone through already--was more than Icould endure. It maddened me. Try to make allowances for a man besidehimself. I struck her. 

The instant the blow was dealt, I repented it. She crouched down, silent, in a corner of the room, and eyed me steadily. It was a look that cooledmy hot blood in an instant. There was no time now to think of makingatonement. I could only risk the worst, and make sure of her till thefuneral was over. I locked her into her bedroom. 

When I came back, after laying my mother in the grave, I found her sittingby the bedside, very much altered in look and bearing, with a bundle onher lap. She faced me quietly; she spoke with a curious stillness in hervoice--strangely and unnaturally composed in look and manner. 

"No man has ever struck me yet, " she said. "My husband shall have nosecond opportunity. Set the door open, and let me go. "

She passed me, and left the room. I saw her walk away up the street. Wasshe gone for good?

All that night I watched and waited. No footstep came near the house. Thenext night, overcome with fatigue, I lay down on the bed in my clothes, with the door locked, the key on the table, and the candle burning. Myslumber was not disturbed. The third night, the fourth, the fifth, thesixth, passed, and nothing happened. I lay down on the seventh night, still suspicious of something happening; still in my clothes; still withthe door locked, the key on the table, and the candle burning. 

My rest was disturbed. I awoke twice, without any sensation of uneasiness. The third time, that horrid shivering of the night at the lonely inn, thatawful sinking pain at the heart, came back again, and roused me in aninstant. My eyes turned to the left-hand side of the bed. And there stood, looking at me--

The Dream Woman again? No! My wife. The living woman, with the face of theDream--in the attitude of the Dream--the fair arm up; the knife clasped inthe delicate white hand. 

I sprang upon her on the instant; but not quickly enough to stop her fromhiding the knife. Without a word from me, without a cry from her, Ipinioned her in a chair. With one hand I felt up her sleeve; and there, where the Dream Woman had hidden the knife, my wife had hidden it--theknife with the buckhorn handle, that looked like new. 

What I felt when I made that discovery I could not realize at the time, and I can't describe now. I took one steady look at her with the knife inmy hand. "You meant to kill me?" I said. 

"Yes, " she answered; "I meant to kill you. " She crossed her arms over herbosom, and stared me coolly in the face. "I shall do it yet, " she said. "With that knife. "

I don't know what possessed me--I swear to you I am no coward; and yet Iacted like a coward. The horrors got hold of me. I couldn't look at her--Icouldn't speak to her. I left her (with the knife in my hand), and wentout into the night. 

There was a bleak wind abroad, and the smell of rain was in the air. Thechurch clocks chimed the quarter as I walked beyond the last house in thetown. I asked the first policeman I met what hour that was, of which thequarter past had just struck. 

The man looked at his watch, and answered, "Two o'clock. " Two in themorning. What day of the month was this day that had just begun? Ireckoned it up from the date of my mother's funeral. The horrid parallelbetween the dream and the reality was complete--it was my birthday!

Had I escaped, the mortal peril which the dream foretold? or had I onlyreceived a second warning? As that doubt crossed my mind I stopped on myway out of the town. The air had revived me--I felt in some degree like myown self again. After a little thinking, I began to see plainly themistake I had made in leaving my wife free to go where she liked and to doas she pleased. 

I turned instantly, and made my way back to the house. It was still dark. I had left the candle burning in the bedchamber. When I looked up to thewindow of the room now, there was no light in it. I advanced to the housedoor. On going away, I remembered to have closed it; on trying it now, Ifound it open. 

I waited outside, never losing sight of the house till daylight. Then Iventured indoors--listened, and heard nothing--looked into the kitchen, scullery, parlor, and found nothing--went up at last into the bedroom. Itwas empty. 

A picklock lay on the floor, which told me how she had gained entrance inthe night. And that was the one trace I could find of the Dream Woman. 

XIII

I waited in the house till the town was astir for the day, and then I wentto consult a lawyer. In the confused state of my mind at the time, I hadone clear notion of what I meant to do: I was determined to sell my houseand leave the neighborhood. There were obstacles in the way which I hadnot counted on. I was told I had creditors to satisfy before I couldleave--I, who had given my wife the money to pay my bills regularly everyweek! Inquiry showed that she had embezzled every farthing of the money Ihad intrusted to her. I had no choice but to pay over again. 

Placed in this awkward position, my first duty was to set things right, with the help of my lawyer. During my forced sojourn in the town I did twofoolish things. And, as a consequence that followed, I heard once more, and heard for the last time, of my wife. 

In the first place, having got possession of the knife, I was rash enoughto keep it in my pocket. In the second place, having something ofimportance to say to my lawyer, at a late hour of the evening, I went tohis house after dark--alone and on foot. I got there safely enough. Returning, I was seized on from behind by two men, dragged down a passageand robbed--not only of the little money I had about me, but also of theknife. It was the lawyer's opinion (as it was mine) that the thieves wereamong the disreputable acquaintances formed by my wife, and that they hadattacked me at her instigation. To confirm this view I received a letterthe next day, without date or address, written in Alicia's hand. The firstline informed me that the knife was back again in her possession. Thesecond line reminded me of the day when I struck her. The third linewarned me that she would wash out the stain of that blow in my blood, andrepeated the words, "I shall do it with the knife!"

These things happened a year ago. The law laid hands on the men who hadrobbed me; but from that time to this, the law has failed completely tofind a trace of my wife. 

My story is told. When I had paid the creditors and paid the legalexpenses, I had barely five pounds left out of the sale of my house; and Ihad the world to begin over again. Some months since--drifting here andthere--I found my way to Underbridge. The landlord of the inn had knownsomething of my father's family in times past. He gave me (all he had togive) my food, and shelter in the yard. Except on market days, there isnothing to do. In the coming winter the inn is to be shut up, and I shallhave to shift for myself. My old master would help me if I applied tohim--but I don't like to apply: he has done more for me already than Ideserve. Besides, in another year who knows but my troubles may all be atan end? Next winter will bring me nigh to my next birthday, and my nextbirthday may be the day of my death. Yes! it's true I sat up all lastnight; and I heard two in the morning strike: and nothing happened. Still, allowing for that, the time to come is a time I don't trust. My wife hasgot the knife--my wife is looking for me. I am above superstition, mind! Idon't say I believe in dreams; I only say, Alicia Warlock is looking forme. It is possible I may be wrong. It is possible I may be right. Who cantell?

THE THIRD NARRATIVE

THE STORY CONTINUED BY PERCY FAIRBANK

XIV

We took leave of Francis Raven at the door of Farleigh Hall, with theunderstanding that he might expect to hear from us again. 

The same night Mrs. Fairbank and I had a discussion in the sanctuary ofour own room. The topic was "The Hostler's Story"; and the question indispute between us turned on the measure of charitable duty that we owedto the hostler himself. 

The view I took of the man's narrative was of the purely matter-of-factkind. Francis Raven had, in my opinion, brooded over the misty connectionbetween his strange dream and his vile wife, until his mind was in a stateof partial delusion on that subject. I was quite willing to help him witha trifle of money, and to recommend him to the kindness of my lawyer, ifhe was really in any danger and wanted advice. There my idea of my dutytoward this afflicted person began and ended. 

Confronted with this sensible view of the matter, Mrs. Fairbank's romantictemperament rushed, as usual, into extremes. "I should no more think oflosing sight of Francis Raven when his next birthday comes round, " says mywife, "than I should think of laying down a good story with the lastchapters unread. I am positively determined, Percy, to take him back withus when we return to France, in the capacity of groom. What does one manmore or less among the horses matter to people as rich as we are?" In thisstrain the partner of my joys and sorrows ran on, perfectly impenetrableto everything that I could say on the side of common sense. Need I tell mymarried brethren how it ended? Of course I allowed my wife to irritate me, and spoke to her sharply. 

Of course my wife turned her face away indignantly on the conjugal pillow, and burst into tears. Of course upon that, "Mr. " made his excuses, and"Mrs. " had her own way. 

Before the week was out we rode over to Underbridge, and duly offered toFrancis Raven a place in our service as supernumerary groom. 

At first the poor fellow seemed hardly able to realize his ownextraordinary good fortune. Recovering himself, he expressed his gratitudemodestly and becomingly. Mrs. Fairbank's ready sympathies overflowed, asusual, at her lips. She talked to him about our home in France, as if theworn, gray-headed hostler had been a child. "Such a dear old house, Francis; and such pretty gardens! Stables! Stables ten times as big asyour stables here--quite a choice of rooms for you. You must learn thename of our house--Maison Rouge. Our nearest town is Metz. We are within awalk of the beautiful River Moselle. And when we want a change we haveonly to take the railway to the frontier, and find ourselves in Germany. "

Listening, so far, with a very bewildered face, Francis started andchanged color when my wife reached the end of her last sentence. "Germany?" he repeated. 

"Yes. Does Germany remind you of anything?"

The hostler's eyes looked down sadly on the ground. "Germany reminds me ofmy wife, " he replied. 

"Indeed! How?"

"She once told me she had lived in Germany--long before I knew her--in thetime when she was a young girl. "

"Was she living with relations or friends?"

"She was living as governess in a foreign family. "

"In what part of Germany?"

"I don't remember, ma'am. I doubt if she told me. "

"Did she tell you the name of the family?"

"Yes, ma'am. It was a foreign name, and it has slipped my memory longsince. The head of the family was a wine grower in a large way ofbusiness--I remember that. "

"Did you hear what sort of wine he grew? There are wine growers in ourneighborhood. Was it Moselle wine?"

"I couldn't say, ma'am, I doubt if I ever heard. "

There the conversation dropped. We engaged to communicate with FrancisRaven before we left England, and took our leave. I had made arrangementsto pay our round of visits to English friends, and to return to MaisonRouge in the summer. On the eve of departure, certain difficulties inconnection with the management of some landed property of mine in Irelandobliged us to alter our plans. Instead of getting back to our house inFrance in the Summer, we only returned a week or two before Christmas. Francis Raven accompanied us, and was duly established, in the nominalcapacity of stable keeper, among the servants at Maison Rouge. 

Before long, some of the objections to taking him into our employment, which I had foreseen and had vainly mentioned to my wife, forcedthemselves on our attention in no very agreeable form. Francis Ravenfailed (as I had feared he would) to get on smoothly with hisfellow-servants They were all French; and not one of them understoodEnglish. Francis, on his side, was equally ignorant of French. Hisreserved manners, his melancholy temperament, his solitary ways--all toldagainst him. Our servants called him "the English Bear. " He grew widelyknown in the neighborhood under his nickname. Quarrels took place, endingonce or twice in blows. It became plain, even to Mrs. Fairbank herself, that some wise change must be made. While we were still considering whatthe change was to be, the unfortunate hostler was thrown on our hands forsome time to come by an accident in the stables. Still pursued by hisproverbial ill-luck, the poor wretch's leg was broken by a kick from ahorse. 

He was attended to by our own surgeon, in his comfortable bedroom at thestables. As the date of his birthday drew near, he was still confined tohis bed. 

Physically speaking, he was doing very well. Morally speaking, the surgeonwas not satisfied. Francis Raven was suffering under some mysteriousmental disturbance, which interfered seriously with his rest at night. Hearing this, I thought it my duty to tell the medical attendant what waspreying on the patient's mind. As a practical man, he shared my opinionthat the hostler was in a state of delusion on the subject of his Wife andhis Dream. "Curable delusion, in my opinion, " the surgeon added, "if theexperiment could be fairly tried. "

"How can it be tried?" I asked. Instead of replying, the surgeon put aquestion to me, on his side. 

"Do you happen to know, " he said, "that this year is Leap Year?"

"Mrs. Fairbank reminded me of it yesterday, " I answered. "Otherwise Imight _not_ have known it. "

"Do you think Francis Raven knows that this year is Leap Year?"

(I began to see dimly what my friend was driving at. )

"It depends, " I answered, "on whether he has got an English almanac. Suppose he has _not_ got the almanac--what then?"

"In that case, " pursued the surgeon, "Francis Raven is innocent of allsuspicion that there is a twenty-ninth day in February this year. As anecessary consequence--what will he do? He will anticipate the appearanceof the Woman with the Knife, at two in the morning of the twenty-ninth ofFebruary, instead of the first of March. Let him suffer all hissuperstitious terrors on the wrong day. Leave him, on the day that isreally his birthday, to pass a perfectly quiet night, and to be as soundasleep as other people at two in the morning. And then, when he wakescomfortably in time for his breakfast, shame him out of his delusion bytelling him the truth. "

I agreed to try the experiment. Leaving the surgeon to caution Mrs. Fairbank on the subject of Leap Year, I went to the stables to see Mr. Raven. 

XV

The poor fellow was full of forebodings of the fate in store for him onthe ominous first of March. He eagerly entreated me to order one of themen servants to sit up with him on the birthday morning. In granting hisrequest, I asked him to tell me on which day of the week his birthdayfell. He reckoned the days on his fingers; and proved his innocence of allsuspicion that it was Leap Year, by fixing on the twenty-ninth ofFebruary, in the full persuasion that it was the first of March. Pledgedto try the surgeon's experiment, I left his error uncorrected, of course. In so doing, I took my first step blindfold toward the last act in thedrama of the Hostler's Dream. 

The next day brought with it a little domestic difficulty, whichindirectly and strangely associated itself with the coming end. 

My wife received a letter, inviting us to assist in celebrating the"Silver Wedding" of two worthy German neighbors of ours--Mr. And Mrs. Beldheimer. Mr. Beldheimer was a large wine grower on the banks of theMoselle. His house was situated on the frontier line of France andGermany; and the distance from our house was sufficiently considerable tomake it necessary for us to sleep under our host's roof. Under thesecircumstances, if we accepted the invitation, a comparison of dates showedthat we should be away from home on the morning of the first of March. Mrs. Fairbank--holding to her absurd resolution to see with her own eyeswhat might, or might not, happen to Francis Raven on his birthday--flatlydeclined to leave Maison Rouge. "It's easy to send an excuse, " she said, in her off-hand manner. 

I failed, for my part, to see any easy way out of the difficulty. Thecelebration of a "Silver Wedding" in Germany is the celebration oftwenty-five years of happy married life; and the host's claim upon theconsideration of his friends on such an occasion is something in thenature of a royal "command. " After considerable discussion, finding mywife's obstinacy invincible, and feeling that the absence of both of usfrom the festival would certainly offend our friends, I left Mrs. Fairbankto make her excuses for herself, and directed her to accept the invitationso far as I was concerned. In so doing, I took my second step, blindfold, toward the last act in the drama of the Hostler's Dream. 

A week elapsed; the last days of February were at hand. Another domesticdifficulty happened; and, again, this event also proved to be strangelyassociated with the coming end. 

My head groom at the stables was one Joseph Rigobert. He was anill-conditioned fellow, inordinately vain of his personal appearance, andby no means scrupulous in his conduct with women. His one virtue consistedof his fondness for horses, and in the care he took of the animals underhis charge. In a word, he was too good a groom to be easily replaced, orhe would have quitted my service long since. On the occasion of which I amnow writing, he was reported to me by my steward as growing idle anddisorderly in his habits. The principal offense alleged against him was, that he had been seen that day in the city of Metz, in the company of awoman (supposed to be an Englishwoman), whom he was entertaining at atavern, when he ought to have been on his way back to Maison Rouge. Theman's defense was that "the lady" (as he called her) was an Englishstranger, unacquainted with the ways of the place, and that he had onlyshown her where she could obtain some refreshments at her own request. Iadministered the necessary reprimand, without troubling myself to inquirefurther into the matter. In failing to do this, I took my third step, blindfold, toward the last act in the drama of the Hostler's Dream. 

On the evening of the twenty-eighth, I informed the servants at thestables that one of them must watch through the night by the Englishman'sbedside. Joseph Rigobert immediately volunteered for the duty--as a means, no doubt, of winning his way back to my favor. I accepted his proposal. 

That day the surgeon dined with us. Toward midnight he and I left thesmoking room, and repaired to Francis Raven's bedside. Rigobert was at hispost, with no very agreeable expression on his face. The Frenchman and theEnglishman had evidently not got on well together so far. Francis Ravenlay helpless on his bed, waiting silently for two in the morning and theDream Woman. 

"I have come, Francis, to bid you good night, " I said, cheerfully. "To-morrow morning I shall look in at breakfast time, before I leave homeon a journey. "

"Thank you for all your kindness, sir. You will not see me alive to-morrowmorning. She will find me this time. Mark my words--she will find me thistime. "

"My good fellow! she couldn't find you in England. How in the world is sheto find you in France?"

"It's borne in on my mind, sir, that she will find me here. At two in themorning on my birthday I shall see her again, and see her for the lasttime. "

"Do you mean that she will kill you?"

"I mean that, sir, she will kill me--with the knife. "

"And with Rigobert in the room to protect you?"

"I am a doomed man. Fifty Rigoberts couldn't protect me. "

"And you wanted somebody to sit up with you?"

"Mere weakness, sir. I don't like to be left alone on my deathbed. "

I looked at the surgeon. If he had encouraged me, I should certainly, outof sheer compassion, have confessed to Francis Raven the trick that wewere playing him. The surgeon held to his experiment; the surgeon's faceplainly said--"No. "

The next day (the twenty-ninth of February) was the day of the "SilverWedding. " The first thing in the morning, I went to Francis Raven's room. Rigobert met me at the door. 

"How has he passed the night?" I asked. 

"Saying his prayers, and looking for ghosts, " Rigobert answered. "Alunatic asylum is the only proper place for him. "

I approached the bedside. "Well, Francis, here you are, safe and sound, inspite of what you said to me last night. "

His eyes rested on mine with a vacant, wondering look. 

"I don't understand it, " he said. 

"Did you see anything of your wife when the clock struck two?"

"No, sir. "

"Did anything happen?"

"Nothing happened, sir. "

"Doesn't _this_ satisfy you that you were wrong?"

His eyes still kept their vacant, wondering look. He only repeated thewords he had spoken already: "I don't understand it. "

I made a last attempt to cheer him. "Come, come, Francis! keep a goodheart. You will be out of bed in a fortnight. "

He shook his head on the pillow. "There's something wrong, " he said. "Idon't expect you to believe me, sir. I only say there's somethingwrong--and time will show it. "

I left the room. Half an hour later I started for Mr. Beldheimer's house;leaving the arrangements for the morning of the first of March in thehands of the doctor and my wife. 

XVI

The one thing which principally struck me when I joined the guests at the"Silver Wedding" is also the one thing which it is necessary to mentionhere. On this joyful occasion a noticeable lady present was out ofspirits. That lady was no other than the heroine of the festival, themistress of the house!

In the course of the evening I spoke to Mr. Beldheimer's eldest son on thesubject of his mother. As an old friend of the family, I had a claim onhis confidence which the young man willingly recognized. 

"We have had a very disagreeable matter to deal with, " he said; "and mymother has not recovered the painful impression left on her mind. Manyyears since, when my sisters were children, we had an English governess inthe house. She left us, as we then understood, to be married. We heard nomore of her until a week or ten days since, when my mother received aletter, in which our ex-governess described herself as being in acondition of great poverty and distress. After much hesitation she hadventured--at the suggestion of a lady who had been kind to her--to writeto her former employers, and to appeal to their remembrance of old times. You know my mother: she is not only the most kind-hearted, but the mostinnocent of women--it is impossible to persuade her of the wickedness thatthere is in the world. She replied by return of post, inviting thegoverness to come here and see her, and inclosing the money for hertraveling expenses. When my father came home, and heard what had beendone, he wrote at once to his agent in London to make inquiries, inclosingthe address on the governess' letter. Before he could receive the agent'sreply the governess, arrived. She produced the worst possible impressionon his mind. The agent's letter, arriving a few days later, confirmed hissuspicions. Since we had lost sight of her, the woman had led a mostdisreputable life. My father spoke to her privately: he offered--oncondition of her leaving the house--a sum of money to take her back toEngland. If she refused, the alternative would be an appeal to theauthorities and a public scandal. She accepted the money, and left thehouse. On her way back to England she appears to have stopped at Metz. Youwill understand what sort of woman she is when I tell you that she wasseen the other day in a tavern, with your handsome groom, JosephRigobert. "

While my informant was relating these circumstances, my memory was atwork. I recalled what Francis Raven had vaguely told us of his wife'sexperience in former days as governess in a German family. A suspicion ofthe truth suddenly flashed across my mind. "What was the woman's name?" Iasked. 

Mr. Beldheimer's son answered: "Alicia Warlock. "

I had but one idea when I heard that reply--to get back to my housewithout a moment's needless delay. It was then ten o'clock at night--thelast train to Metz had left long since. I arranged with my youngfriend--after duly informing him of the circumstances--that I should go bythe first train in the morning, instead of staying to breakfast with theother guests who slept in the house. 

At intervals during the night I wondered uneasily how things were going onat Maison Rouge. Again and again the same question occurred to me, on myjourney home in the early morning--the morning of the first of March. Asthe event proved, but one person in my house knew what really happened atthe stables on Francis Raven's birthday. Let Joseph Rigobert take my placeas narrator, and tell the story of the end to You--as he told it, in timespast, to his lawyer and to Me. 

FOURTH (AND LAST) NARRATIVE

STATEMENT OF JOSEPH RIGOBERT: ADDRESSED TO THE ADVOCATE WHO DEFENDED HIMAT HIS TRIAL

Respected Sir, --On the twenty-seventh of February I was sent, on businessconnected with the stables at Maison Rouge, to the city of Metz. On thepublic promenade I met a magnificent woman. Complexion, blond. Nationality, English. We mutually admired each other; we fell intoconversation. (She spoke French perfectly--with the English accent. ) Ioffered refreshment; my proposal was accepted. We had a long andinteresting interview--we discovered that we were made for each other. Sofar, Who is to blame?

Is it my fault that I am a handsome man--universally agreeable as such tothe fair sex? Is it a criminal offense to be accessible to the amiableweakness of love? I ask again, Who is to blame? Clearly, nature. Not thebeautiful lady--not my humble self. 

To resume. The most hard-hearted person living will understand that twobeings made for each other could not possibly part without an appointmentto meet again. 

I made arrangements for the accommodation of the lady in the village nearMaison Rouge. She consented to honor me with her company at supper, in myapartment at the stables, on the night of the twenty-ninth. The time fixedon was the time when the other servants were accustomed to retire--eleveno'clock. 

Among the grooms attached to the stables was an Englishman, laid up with abroken leg. His name was Francis. His manners were repulsive; he wasignorant of the French language. In the kitchen he went by the nickname ofthe "English Bear. " Strange to say, he was a great favorite with my masterand my mistress. They even humored certain superstitious terrors to whichthis repulsive person was subject--terrors into the nature of which I, asan advanced freethinker, never thought it worth my while to inquire. 

On the evening of the twenty-eighth the Englishman, being a prey to theterrors which I have mentioned, requested that one of his fellow servantsmight sit up with him for that night only. The wish that he expressed wasbacked by Mr. Fairbank's authority. Having already incurred my master'sdispleasure--in what way, a proper sense of my own dignity forbids me torelate--I volunteered to watch by the bedside of the English Bear. Myobject was to satisfy Mr. Fairbank that I bore no malice, on my side, after what had occurred between us. The wretched Englishman passed a nightof delirium. Not understanding his barbarous language, I could only gatherfrom his gesture that he was in deadly fear of some fancied apparition athis bedside. From time to time, when this madman disturbed my slumbers, Iquieted him by swearing at him. This is the shortest and best way ofdealing with persons in his condition. 

On the morning of the twenty-ninth, Mr. Fairbank left us on a journey. Later in the day, to my unspeakable disgust, I found that I had not donewith the Englishman yet. In Mr. Fairbank's absence, Mrs. Fairbank took anincomprehensible interest in the question of my delirious fellow servant'srepose at night. Again, one or the other of us was to watch at hisbedside, and report it, if anything happened. Expecting my fair friend tosupper, it was necessary to make sure that the other servants at thestables would be safe in their beds that night. Accordingly, I volunteeredonce more to be the man who kept watch. Mrs. Fairbank complimented me onmy humanity. I possess great command over my feelings. I accepted thecompliment without a blush. 

Twice, after nightfall, my mistress and the doctor (the last staying inthe house in Mr. Fairbank's absence) came to make inquiries. Once _before_the arrival of my fair friend--and once _after_. On the second occasion(my apartment being next door to the Englishman's) I was obliged to hidemy charming guest in the harness room. She consented, with angelicresignation, to immolate her dignity to the servile necessities of myposition. A more amiable woman (so far) I never met with!

After the second visit I was left free. It was then close on midnight. Upto that time there was nothing in the behavior of the mad Englishman toreward Mrs. Fairbank and the doctor for presenting themselves at hisbedside. He lay half awake, half asleep, with an odd wondering kind oflook in his face. My mistress at parting warned me to be particularlywatchful of him toward two in the morning. The doctor (in case anythinghappened) left me a large hand bell to ring, which could easily be heardat the house. 

Restored to the society of my fair friend, I spread the supper table. Apâté, a sausage, and a few bottles of generous Moselle wine, composed oursimple meal. When persons adore each other, the intoxicating illusion ofLove transforms the simplest meal into a banquet. With immeasurablecapacities for enjoyment, we sat down to table. At the very moment when Iplaced my fascinating companion in a chair, the infamous Englishman in thenext room took that occasion, of all others, to become restless and noisyonce more. He struck with his stick on the floor; he cried out, in adelirious access of terror, "Rigobert! Rigobert!"

The sound of that lamentable voice, suddenly assailing our ears, terrifiedmy fair friend. She lost all her charming color in an instant. "Goodheavens!" she exclaimed. "Who is that in the next room?"

"A mad Englishman. "

"An Englishman?"

"Compose yourself, my angel. I will quiet him. "

The lamentable voice called out on me again, "Rigobert! Rigobert!"

My fair friend caught me by the arm. "Who is he?" she cried. "What is hisname?"

Something in her face struck me as she put that question. A spasm ofjealousy shook me to the soul. "You know him?" I said. 

"His name!" she vehemently repeated; "his name!"

"Francis, " I answered. 

"Francis--_what_?"

I shrugged my shoulders. I could neither remember nor pronounce thebarbarous English surname. I could only tell her it began with an "R. "

She dropped back into the chair. Was she going to faint? No: sherecovered, and more than recovered, her lost color. Her eyes flashedsuperbly. What did it mean? Profoundly as I understand women in general, Iwas puzzled by _this_ woman!

"You know him?" I repeated. 

She laughed at me. "What nonsense! How should I know him? Go and quiet thewretch. "

My looking-glass was near. One glance at it satisfied me that no woman inher senses could prefer the Englishman to Me. I recovered my self-respect. I hastened to the Englishman's bedside. 

The moment I appeared he pointed eagerly toward my room. He overwhelmed mewith a torrent of words in his own language. I made out, from his gesturesand his looks, that he had, in some incomprehensible manner, discoveredthe presence of my guest; and, stranger still, that he was scared by theidea of a person in my room. I endeavored to compose him on the systemwhich I have already mentioned--that is to say, I swore at him in _my_language. The result not proving satisfactory, I own I shook my fist inhis face, and left the bedchamber. 

Returning to my fair friend, I found her walking backward and forward in astate of excitement wonderful to behold. She had not waited for me to fillher glass--she had begun the generous Moselle in my absence. I prevailedon her with difficulty to place herself at the table. Nothing would induceher to eat. "My appetite is gone, " she said. "Give me wine. "

The generous Moselle deserves its name--delicate on the palate, withprodigious "body. " The strength of this fine wine produced no stupefyingeffect on my remarkable guest. It appeared to strengthen and exhilarateher--nothing more. She always spoke in the same low tone, and always, turnthe conversation as I might, brought it back with the same dexterity tothe subject of the Englishman in the next room. In any other woman thispersistency would have offended me. My lovely guest was irresistible; Ianswered her questions with the docility of a child. She possessed all theamusing eccentricity of her nation. When I told her of the accident whichconfined the Englishman to his bed, she sprang to her feet. Anextraordinary smile irradiated her countenance. She said, "Show me thehorse who broke the Englishman's leg! I must see that horse!" I took herto the stables. She kissed the horse--on my word of honor, she kissed thehorse! That struck me. I said. "You _do_ know the man; and he has wrongedyou in some way. " No! she would not admit it, even then. "I kiss allbeautiful animals, " she said. "Haven't I kissed _you_?" With that charmingexplanation of her conduct, she ran back up the stairs. I only remainedbehind to lock the stable door again. When I rejoined her, I made astartling discovery. I caught her coming out of the Englishman's room. 

"I was just going downstairs again to call you, " she said. "The man inthere is getting noisy once more. "

The mad Englishman's voice assailed our ears once again. "Rigobert!Rigobert!"

He was a frightful object to look at when I saw him this time. His eyeswere staring wildly; the perspiration was pouring over his face. In apanic of terror he clasped his hands; he pointed up to heaven. By everysign and gesture that a man can make, he entreated me not to leave himagain. I really could not help smiling. The idea of my staying with _him_, and leaving my fair friend by herself in the next room!

I turned to the door. When the mad wretch saw me leaving him he burst outinto a screech of despair--so shrill that I feared it might awaken thesleeping servants. 

My presence of mind in emergencies is proverbial among those who know me. I tore open the cupboard in which he kept his linen--seized a handful ofhis handkerchiefs--gagged him with one of them, and secured his hands withthe others. There was now no danger of his alarming the servants. Aftertying the last knot, I looked up. 

The door between the Englishman's room and mine was open. My fair friendwas standing on the threshold--watching _him_ as he lay helpless on thebed; watching _me_ as I tied the last knot. 

"What are you doing there?" I asked. "Why did you open the door?"

She stepped up to me, and whispered her answer in my ear, with her eyesall the time upon the man on the bed:

"I heard him scream. "

"Well?"

"I thought you had killed him. "

I drew back from her in horror. The suspicion of me which her wordsimplied was sufficiently detestable in itself. But her manner when sheuttered the words was more revolting still. It so powerfully affected methat I started back from that beautiful creature as I might have recoiledfrom a reptile crawling over my flesh. 

Before I had recovered myself sufficiently to reply, my nerves wereassailed by another shock. I suddenly heard my mistress's voice calling tome from the stable yard. 

There was no time to think--there was only time to act. The one thingneeded was to keep Mrs. Fairbank from ascending the stairs, anddiscovering--not my lady guest only--but the Englishman also, gagged andbound on his bed. I instantly hurried to the yard. As I ran down thestairs I heard the stable clock strike the quarter to two in the morning. 

My mistress was eager and agitated. The doctor (in attendance on her) wassmiling to himself, like a man amused at his own thoughts. 

"Is Francis awake or asleep?" Mrs. Fairbank inquired. 

"He has been a little restless, madam. But he is now quiet again. If he isnot disturbed" (I added those words to prevent her from ascending thestairs), "he will soon fall off into a quiet sleep. "

"Has nothing happened since I was here last?"

"Nothing, madam. "

The doctor lifted his eyebrows with a comical look of distress. "Alas, alas, Mrs. Fairbank!" he said. "Nothing has happened! The days of romanceare over!"

"It is not two o'clock yet, " my mistress answered, a little irritably. 

The smell of the stables was strong on the morning air. She put herhandkerchief to her nose and led the way out of the yard by the northentrance--the entrance communicating with the gardens and the house. I wasordered to follow her, along with the doctor. Once out of the smell of thestables she began to question me again. She was unwilling to believe thatnothing had occurred in her absence. I invented the best answers I couldthink of on the spur of the moment; and the doctor stood by laughing. Sothe minutes passed till the clock struck two. Upon that, Mrs. Fairbankannounced her intention of personally visiting the Englishman in his room. To my great relief, the doctor interfered to stop her from doing this. 

"You have heard that Francis is just falling asleep, " he said. "If youenter his room you may disturb him. It is essential to the success of myexperiment that he should have a good night's rest, and that he should ownit himself, before I tell him the truth. I must request, madam, that youwill not disturb the man. Rigobert will ring the alarm bell if anythinghappens. "

My mistress was unwilling to yield. For the next five minutes, at least, there was a warm discussion between the two. In the end Mrs. Fairbank wasobliged to give way--for the time. "In half an hour, " she said, "Franciswill either be sound asleep, or awake again. In half an hour I shall comeback. " She took the doctor's arm. They returned together to the house. 

Left by myself, with half an hour before me, I resolved to take theEnglishwoman back to the village--then, returning to the stables, toremove the gag and the bindings from Francis, and to let him screech tohis heart's content. What would his alarming the whole establishmentmatter to _me_ after I had got rid of the compromising presence of myguest?

Returning to the yard I heard a sound like the creaking of an open door onits hinges. The gate of the north entrance I had just closed with my ownhand. I went round to the west entrance, at the back of the stables. Itopened on a field crossed by two footpaths in Mr. Fairbank's grounds. Thenearest footpath led to the village. The other led to the highroad and theriver. 

Arriving at the west entrance I found the door open--swinging to and froslowly in the fresh morning breeze. I had myself locked and bolted thatdoor after admitting my fair friend at eleven o'clock. A vague dread ofsomething wrong stole its way into my mind. I hurried back to the stables. 

I looked into my own room. It was empty. I went to the harness room. Not asign of the woman was there. I returned to my room, and approached thedoor of the Englishman's bedchamber. Was it possible that she had remainedthere during my absence? An unaccountable reluctance to open the door mademe hesitate, with my hand on the lock. I listened. There was not a soundinside. I called softly. There was no answer. I drew back a step, stillhesitating. I noticed something dark moving slowly in the crevice betweenthe bottom of the door and the boarded floor. Snatching up the candle fromthe table, I held it low, and looked. The dark, slowly moving object was astream of blood!

That horrid sight roused me. I opened the door. The Englishman lay on hisbed--alone in the room. He was stabbed in two places--in the throat and inthe heart. The weapon was left in the second wound. It was a knife ofEnglish manufacture, with a handle of buckhorn as good as new. 

I instantly gave the alarm. Witnesses can speak to what followed. It ismonstrous to suppose that I am guilty of the murder. I admit that I amcapable of committing follies: but I shrink from the bare idea of a crime. Besides, I had no motive for killing the man. The woman murdered him in myabsence. The woman escaped by the west entrance while I was talking to mymistress. I have no more to say. I swear to you what I have here writtenis a true statement of all that happened on the morning of the first ofMarch. 

Accept, sir, the assurance of my sentiments of profound gratitude andrespect. 

 JOSEPH RIGOBERT. 

LAST LINES. --ADDED BY PERCY FAIRBANK

Tried for the murder of Francis Raven, Joseph Rigobert was found NotGuilty; the papers of the assassinated man presented ample evidence of thedeadly animosity felt toward him by his wife. 

The investigations pursued on the morning when the crime was committedshowed that the murderess, after leaving the stable, had taken thefootpath which led to the river. The river was dragged--without result. Itremains doubtful to this day whether she died by drowning or not. The onething certain is--that Alicia Warlock was never seen again. 

So--beginning in mystery, ending in mystery--the Dream Woman passes fromyour view. Ghost; demon; or living human creature--say for yourselveswhich she is. Or, knowing what unfathomed wonders are around you, whatunfathomed wonders are _in_ you, let the wise words of the greatest of allpoets be explanation enough:

 "We are such stuff As dreams are made of, and our little life Is rounded with, a sleep. "

Anonymous

_The Lost Duchess_

I

"Has the duchess returned?"

"No, your grace. "

Knowles came farther into the room. He had a letter on a salver. When theduke had taken it, Knowles still lingered. The duke glanced at him. 

"Is an answer required?"

"No, your grace. " Still Knowles lingered. "Something a little singular hashappened. The carriage has returned without the duchess, and the men saythat they thought her grace was in it. "

"What do you mean?"

"I hardly understand myself, your grace. Perhaps you would like to seeBarnes. "

Barnes was the coachman. 

"Send him up. " When Knowles had gone, and he was alone, his grace showedsigns of being slightly annoyed. He looked at his watch. "I told her she'dbetter be in by four. She says that she's not feeling well, and yet onewould think that she was not aware of the fatigue entailed in having theprince come to dinner, and a mob of people to follow. I particularlywished her to lie down for a couple of hours. "

Knowles ushered in not only Barnes, the coachman, but Moysey, the footman, too. Both these persons seemed to be ill at ease. The duke glanced at themsharply. In his voice there was a suggestion of impatience. 

"What is the matter?"

Barnes explained as best he could. 

"If you please, your grace, we waited for the duchess outside Cane andWilson's, the drapers. The duchess came out, got into the carriage, andMoysey shut the door, and her grace said, 'Home!' and yet when we got homeshe wasn't there. "

"She wasn't where?"

"Her grace wasn't in the carriage, your grace. "

"What on earth do you mean?"

"Her grace did get into the carriage; you shut the door, didn't you?"

Barnes turned to Moysey. Moysey brought his hand up to his brow in a sortof military salute--he had been a soldier in the regiment in which, onceupon a time, the duke had been a subaltern. 

"She did. The duchess came out of the shop. She seemed rather in a hurry, I thought. She got into the carriage, and she said, 'Home, Moysey!' I shutthe door, and Barnes drove straight home. We never stopped anywhere, andwe never noticed nothing happen on the way; and yet when we got home thecarriage was empty. "

The duke started. 

"Do you mean to tell me that the duchess got out of the carriage while youwere driving full pelt through the streets without saying anything to you, and without you noticing it?"

"The carriage was empty when we got home, your grace. "

"Was either of the doors open?"

"No, your grace. "

"You fellows have been up to some infernal mischief. You have made a messof it. You never picked up the duchess, and you're trying to palm thistale off on me to save yourselves. "

Barnes was moved to adjuration:

"I'll take my Bible oath, your grace, that the duchess got into thecarriage outside Cane and Wilson's. "

Moysey seconded his colleague. 

"I will swear to that, your grace. She got into that carriage, and I shutthe door, and she said, 'Home, Moysey!'"

The duke looked as if he did not know what to make of the story and itstellers. 

"What carriage did you have?"

"Her grace's brougham, your grace. "

Knowles interposed:

"The brougham was ordered because I understood that the duchess was notfeeling very well, and there's rather a high wind, your grace. "

The duke snapped at him:

"What has that to do with it? Are you suggesting that the duchess was morelikely to jump out of a brougham while it was dashing through the streetsthan out of any other kind of vehicle?"

The duke's glance fell on the letter which Knowles had brought him when hefirst had entered. He had placed it on his writing table. Now he took itup. It was addressed:

 "_To His Grace the Duke of Datchet_. _Private!_ VERY PRESSING!!!"

The name was written in a fine, clear, almost feminine hand. The words inthe left-hand corner of the envelope were written in a different hand. They were large and bold; almost as though they had been painted with theend of the penholder instead of being written with the pen. The envelopeitself was of an unusual size, and bulged out as though it containedsomething else besides a letter. 

The duke tore the envelope open. As he did so something fell out of it onto the writing table. It looked as though it was a lock of a woman's hair. As he glanced at it the duke seemed to be a trifle startled. The duke readthe letter:

 "Your grace will be so good as to bring five hundred pounds in gold to the Piccadilly end of the Burlington Arcade within an hour of the receipt of this. The Duchess of Datchet has been kidnaped. An imitation duchess got into the carriage, which was waiting outside Cane and Wilson's, and she alighted on the road. Unless your grace does as you are requested, the Duchess of Datchet's left-hand little finger will be at once cut off, and sent home in time to receive the prince to dinner. Other portions of her grace will follow. A lock of her grace's hair is inclosed with this as an earnest of our good intentions. 

 "_Before_ 5:30 p. M. Your grace is requested to be at the Piccadilly end of the Burlington Arcade with five hundred pounds in gold. You will there be accosted by an individual in a white top hat, and with a gardenia in his buttonhole. You will be entirely at liberty to give him into custody, or to have him followed by the police, in which case the duchess's left arm, cut off at the shoulder, will be sent home for dinner--not to mention other extremely possible contingencies. But you are _advised_ to give the individual in question the five hundred pounds in gold, because in that case the duchess herself will be home in time to receive the prince to dinner, and with one of the best stories with which to entertain your distinguished guests they ever heard. 

 "Remember! _not later than_ 5:30, unless you wish to receive her grace's little finger. "

The duke stared at this amazing epistle when he had read it as though hefound it difficult to believe the evidence of his eyes. He was not ademonstrative person, as a rule, but this little communication astonishedeven him. He read it again. Then his hands dropped to his sides, and heswore. 

He took up the lock of hair which had fallen out of the envelope. Was itpossible that it could be his wife's, the duchess? Was it possible that aDuchess of Datchet could be kidnaped, in broad daylight, in the heart ofLondon, and be sent home, as it were, in pieces? Had sacrilegious handsalready been playing pranks with that great lady's hair? Certainly, _that_ hair was so like _her_ hair that the mere resemblance made hisgrace's blood run cold. He turned on Messrs. Barnes and Moysey as thoughhe would have liked to rend them. 

"You scoundrels!"

He moved forward as though the intention had entered his ducal heart toknock his servants down. But, if that were so, he did not act quite up tohis intention. Instead, he stretched out his arm, pointing at them as ifhe were an accusing spirit:

"Will you swear that it was the duchess who got into the carriage outsideCane and Wilson's?"

Barnes began to stammer:

"I'll swear, your grace, that I--I thought--"

The duke stormed an interruption:

"I don't ask what you thought. I ask you, will you swear it was?"

The duke's anger was more than Barnes could face. He was silent. Moyseyshowed a larger courage. 

"I could have sworn that it was at the time, your grace. But now it seemsto me that it's a rummy go. "

"A rummy go!" The peculiarity of the phrase did not seem to strike theduke just then--at least, he echoed it as if it didn't. "You call it arummy go! Do you know that I am told in this letter that the woman whoentered the carriage was not the duchess? What you were thinking about, orwhat case you will be able to make out for yourselves, you know betterthan I; but I can tell you this--that in an hour you will leave myservice, and you may esteem yourselves fortunate if, to-night, you are notboth of you sleeping in jail. "

One might almost have suspected that the words were spoken in irony. Butbefore they could answer, another servant entered, who also brought aletter for the duke. When his grace's glance fell on it he uttered anexclamation. The writing on the envelope was the same writing that hadbeen on the envelope which had contained the very singularcommunication--like it in all respects, down to the broomstick-endthickness of the "Private!" and "Very pressing!!!" in the corner. 

"Who brought this?" stormed the duke. 

The servant appeared to be a little startled by the violence of hisgrace's manner. 

"A lady--or, at least, your grace, she seemed to be a lady. "

"Where is she?"

"She came in a hansom, your grace. She gave me that letter, and said, 'Give that to the Duke of Datchet at once--without a moment's delay!' Thenshe got into the hansom again, and drove away. "

"Why didn't you stop her?"

"Your grace!"

The man seemed surprised, as though the idea of stopping chance visitorsto the ducal mansion _vi et armis_ had not, until that moment, enteredinto his philosophy. The duke continued to regard the man as if he couldsay a good deal, if he chose. Then he pointed to the door. His lips saidnothing, but his gesture much. The servant vanished. 

"Another hoax!" the duke said grimly, as he tore the envelope open. 

This time the envelope contained a sheet of paper, and in the sheet ofpaper another envelope. The duke unfolded the sheet of paper. On it somewords were written. These:

"The duchess appears so particularly anxious to drop you a line, that onereally hasn't the heart to refuse her. 

"Her grace's communication--written amidst blinding tears!--you will findinclosed with this. "

"Knowles, " said the duke, in a voice which actually trembled, "Knowles, hoax or no hoax, I will be even with the gentleman who wrote that. "

Handing the sheet of paper to Mr. Knowles, his grace turned his attentionto the envelope which had been inclosed. It was a small, square envelope, of the finest quality, and it reeked with perfume. The duke's countenanceassumed an added frown--he had no fondness for envelopes which werescented. In the center of the envelope were the words, "To the Duke ofDatchet, " written in the big, bold, sprawling hand which he knew so well. 

"Mabel's writing, " he said, half to himself, as, with shaking fingers, hetore the envelope open. 

The sheet of paper which he took out was almost as stiff as cardboard. It, too, emitted what his grace deemed the nauseous odors of the perfumer'sshop. On it was written this letter:

 "MY DEAR HEREWARD--For Heaven's sake do what these people require! I don't know what has happened or where I am, but I am nearly distracted! They have already cut off some of my hair, and they tell me that, if you don't let them have five hundred pounds in gold by half-past five, they will cut off my little finger too. I would sooner die than lose my little finger--and--I don't know what else besides. 

 "By the token which I send you, and which has never, until now, been off my breast, I conjure you to help me. 

 "Hereward--_help me_!"

When he read that letter the duke turned white--very white, as white asthe paper on which it was written. He passed the epistle on to Knowles. 

"I suppose that also is a hoax?"

Mr. Knowles was silent. He still yielded to his constitutional disrelishto commit himself. At last he asked:

"What is it that your grace proposes to do?"

The duke spoke with a bitterness which almost suggested a personalanimosity toward the inoffensive Mr. Knowles. 

"I propose, with your permission, to release the duchess from the custodyof my estimable correspondent. I propose--always with your permission--tocomply with his modest request, and to take him his five hundred pounds ingold. " He paused, then continued in a tone which, coming from him, meantvolumes: "Afterwards, I propose to cry quits with the concocter of thispretty little hoax, even if it costs me every penny I possess. He shallpay more for that five hundred pounds than he supposes. "

II

The Duke of Datchet, coming out of the bank, lingered for a moment on thesteps. In one hand he carried a canvas bag which seemed well weighted. Onhis countenance there was an expression which to a casual observer mighthave suggested that his grace was not completely at his ease. That casualobserver happened to come strolling by. It took the form of Ivor Dacre. 

Mr. Dacre looked the Duke of Datchet up and down in that languid way hehas. He perceived the canvas bag. Then he remarked, possibly intending tobe facetious:

"Been robbing the bank? Shall I call a cart?"

Nobody minds what Ivor Dacre says. Besides, he is the duke's own cousin. Perhaps a little removed; still, there it is. So the duke smiled a sicklysmile, as if Mr. Dacre's delicate wit had given him a passing touch ofindigestion. 

Mr. Dacre noticed that the duke looked sallow, so he gave his pretty senseof humor another airing. 

"Kitchen boiler burst? When I saw the duchess just now I wondered if ithad. "

His grace distinctly started. He almost dropped the canvas bag. 

"You saw the duchess just now, Ivor! When?"

The duke was evidently moved. Mr. Dacre was stirred to languid curiosity. "I can't say I clocked it. Perhaps half an hour ago; perhaps a littlemore. "

"Half an hour ago! Are you sure? Where did you see her?"

Mr. Dacre wondered. The Duchess of Datchet could scarcely have beeneloping in broad daylight. Moreover, she had not yet been married a year. Everyone knew that she and the duke were still as fond of each other as ifthey were not man and wife. So, although the duke, for some cause orother, was evidently in an odd state of agitation, Mr. Dacre saw no reasonwhy he should not make a clean breast of all he knew. 

"She was going like blazes in a hansom cab. "

"In a hansom cab? Where?"

"Down Waterloo Place. "

"Was she alone?"

Mr. Dacre reflected. He glanced at the duke out of the corners of hiseyes. His languid utterance became a positive drawl. 

"I rather fancy that she wasn't. "

"Who was with her?"

"My dear fellow, if you were to offer me the bank I couldn't tell you. "

"Was it a man?"

Mr. Dacre's drawl became still more pronounced. 

"I rather fancy that it was. "

Mr. Dacre expected something. The duke was so excited. But he by no meansexpected what actually came. 

"Ivor, she's been kidnaped!"

Mr. Dacre did what he had never been known to do before within the memoryof man--he dropped his eyeglass. 

"Datchet!"

"She has! Some scoundrel has decoyed her away, and trapped her. He'salready sent me a lock of her hair, and he tells me that if I don't lethim have five hundred pounds in gold by half-past five he'll let me haveher little finger. "

Mr. Dacre did not know what to make of his grace at all. He was a soberman--it _couldn't_ be that! Mr. Dacre felt really concerned. 

"I'll call a cab, old man, and you'd better let me see you home. "

Mr. Dacre half raised his stick to hail a passing hansom. The duke caughthim by the arm. 

"You ass! What do you mean? I am telling you the simple truth. My wife'sbeen kidnaped. "

Mr. Dacre's countenance was a thing to be seen--and remembered. 

"Oh! I hadn't heard that there was much of that sort of thing about justnow. They talk of poodles being kidnaped, but as for duchesses--You'dreally better let me call that cab. "

"Ivor, do you want me to kick you? Don't you see that to me it's aquestion of life and death? I've been in there to get the money. " Hisgrace motioned toward the bank. "I'm going to take it to the scoundrel whohas my darling at his mercy. Let me but have her hand in mine again, andhe shall continue to pay for every sovereign with tears of blood until hedies. "

"Look here, Datchet, I don't know if you're having a joke with me, or ifyou're not well--"

The duke stepped impatiently into the roadway. 

"Ivor, you're a fool! Can't you tell jest from earnest, health fromdisease? I'm off! Are you coming with me? It would be as well that Ishould have a witness. "

"Where are you off to?"

"To the other end of the Arcade. "

"Who is the gentleman you expect to have the pleasure of meeting there?"

"How should I know?" The duke took a letter from his pocket--it was theletter which had just arrived. "The fellow is to wear a white top hat, anda gardenia in his buttonhole. "

"What is it you have there?"

"It's the letter which brought the news--look for yourself and see; but, for God's sake, make haste!" His grace glanced at his watch. "It's alreadytwenty after five. "

"And do you mean to say that on the strength of a letter such as this youare going to hand over five hundred pounds to--"

The duke cut Mr. Dacre short. 

"What are five hundred pounds to me? Besides, you don't know all. There isanother letter. And I have heard from Mabel. But I will tell you all aboutit later. If you are coming, come!"

Folding up the letter, Mr. Dacre returned it to the duke. 

"As you say, what are five hundred pounds to you? It's as well they arenot as much to you as they are to me, or I'm afraid--"

"Hang it, Ivor, do prose afterwards!"

The duke hurried across the road. Mr. Dacre hastened after him. As theyentered the Arcade they passed a constable. Mr. Dacre touched hiscompanion's arm. 

"Don't you think we'd better ask our friend in blue to walk behind us? Hisneighborhood might be handy. "

"Nonsense!" The duke stopped short. "Ivor, this is my affair, not yours. If you are not content to play the part of silent witness, be so good asto leave me. "

"My dear Datchet, I'm entirely at your service. I can be every whit asinsane as you, I do assure you. "

Side by side they moved rapidly down the Burlington Arcade. The duke wasobviously in a state of the extremest nervous tension. Mr. Dacre wasequally obviously in a state of the most supreme enjoyment. People staredas they rushed past. The duke saw nothing. Mr. Dacre saw everything, andsmiled. 

When they reached the Piccadilly end of the Arcade the duke pulled up. Helooked about him. Mr. Dacre also looked about him. 

"I see nothing of your white-hatted and gardenia-buttonholed friend, " saidIvor. 

The duke referred to his watch. 

"It's not yet half-past five. I'm up to time. "

Mr. Dacre held his stick in front of him and leaned on it. He indulgedhimself with a beatific smile. 

"It strikes me, my dear Datchet, that you've been the victim of one of thefinest things in hoaxes--"

"I hope I haven't kept you waiting. "

The voice which interrupted Mr. Dacre came from the rear. While they werelooking in front of them some one approached them from behind, apparentlycoming out of the shop which was at their backs. 

The speaker looked a gentleman. He sounded like one, too. Costume, appearance, manner, were beyond reproach--even beyond the criticism oftwo such keen critics as were these. The glorious attire of a London dandywas surmounted with a beautiful white top hat. In his buttonhole was amagnificent gardenia. 

In age the stranger was scarcely more than a boy, and a sunny-faced, handsome boy at that. His cheeks were hairless, his eyes were blue. Hissmile was not only innocent, it was bland. Never was there a moreconspicuous illustration of that repose which stamps the caste of Vere deVere. 

The duke looked at him and glowered. Mr. Dacre looked at him and smiled. 

"Who are you?" asked the duke. 

"Ah--that is the question!" The newcomer's refined and musical voicebreathed the very soul of affability. "I am an individual who is sounfortunate as to be in want of five hundred pounds. "

"Are you the scoundrel who sent me that infamous letter?"

The charming stranger never turned a hair. 

"I am the scoundrel mentioned in that infamous letter who wants to accostyou at the Piccadilly end of the Burlington Arcade before half-pastfive--as witness my white hat and my gardenia. "

"Where's my wife?"

The stranger gently swung his stick in front of him with his two hands. Heregarded the duke as a merry-hearted son might regard his father. Thething was beautiful!

"Her grace will be home almost as soon as you are--when you have given methe money which I perceive you have all ready for me in that scarcelyelegant-looking canvas bag. " He shrugged his shoulders quite gracefully. "Unfortunately, in these matters one has no choice--one is forced to askfor gold. "

"And suppose, instead of giving you what is in this canvas bag, I take youby the throat and choke the life right out of you?"

"Or suppose, " amended Mr. Dacre, "that you do better, and commend thisgentleman to the tender mercies of the first policeman we encounter. "

The stranger turned to Mr. Dacre. He condescended to become conscious ofhis presence. 

"Is this gentleman your grace's friend? Ah--Mr. Dacre, I perceive! I havethe honor of knowing Mr. Dacre, though, possibly, I am unknown to him. "

"You were--until this moment. "

With an airy little laugh the stranger returned to the duke. He brushed aninvisible speck of dust off the sleeve of his coat. 

"As has been intimated in that infamous letter, his grace is at perfectliberty to give me into custody--why not? Only"--he said it with hisboyish smile--"if a particular communication is not received from me incertain quarters within a certain time the Duchess of Datchet's beautifulwhite arm will be hacked off at the shoulder. "

"You hound!"

The duke would have taken the stranger by the throat, and have done hisbest to choke the life right out of him then and there, if Mr. Dacre hadnot intervened. 

"Steady, old man!" Mr. Dacre turned to the stranger. "You appear to be apretty sort of a scoundrel. "

The stranger gave his shoulders that almost imperceptible shrug. 

"Oh, my dear Dacre, I am in want of money! I believe that you sometimesare in want of money, too. "

Everybody knows that nobody knows where Ivor Dacre gets his money from, sothe allusion must have tickled him immensely. 

"You're a cool hand, " he said. 

"Some men are born that way. "

"So I should imagine. Men like you must be born, not made. "

"Precisely--as you say!" The stranger turned, with his graceful smile, tothe duke: "But are we not wasting precious time? I can assure your gracethat, in this particular matter, moments are of value. "

Mr. Dacre interposed before the duke could answer. 

"If you take my strongly urged advice, Datchet, you will summon thisconstable who is now coming down the Arcade, and hand this gentleman overto his keeping. I do not think that you need fear that the duchess willlose her arm, or even her little finger. Scoundrels of this one's kidneyare most amenable to reason when they have handcuffs on their wrists. "

The duke plainly hesitated. He would--and he would not. The stranger, ashe eyed him, seemed much amused. 

"My dear duke, by all means act on Mr. Dacre's valuable suggestion. As Isaid before, why not? It would at least be interesting to see if theduchess does or does not lose her arm--almost as interesting to you as toMr. Dacre. Those blackmailing, kidnaping scoundrels do use such emptymenaces. Besides, you would have the pleasure of seeing me locked up. Myimprisonment for life would recompense you even for the loss of hergrace's arm. And five hundred pounds is such a sum to have to pay--merelyfor a wife! Why not, therefore, act on Mr. Dacre's suggestion? Here comesthe constable. " The constable referred to was advancing toward them--hewas not a dozen yards away. "Let me beckon to him--I will with pleasure. "He took out his watch--a gold chronograph repeater. "There are scarcelyten minutes left during which it will be possible for me to send thecommunication which I spoke of, so that it may arrive in time. As it willthen be too late, and the instruments are already prepared for the littleoperation which her grace is eagerly anticipating, it would, perhaps, beas well, after all, that you should give me into charge. You would havesaved your five hundred pounds, and you would, at any rate, have somethingin exchange for her grace's mutilated limb. Ah, here is the constable!Officer!"

The stranger spoke with such a pleasant little air of easy geniality thatit was impossible to tell if he were in jest or in earnest. This factimpressed the duke much more than if he had gone in for a liberalindulgence of the--under the circumstances--orthodox melodramaticscowling. And, indeed, in the face of his own common sense, it impressedMr. Ivor Dacre too. 

This well-bred, well-groomed youth was just the being to realize--_auxbouts des ongles_--a modern type of the devil, the type which depicts himas a perfect gentleman, who keeps smiling all the time. 

The constable whom this audacious rogue had signaled approached the littlegroup. He addressed the stranger:

"Do you want me, sir?"

"No, I do not want you. I think it is the Duke of Datchet. "

The constable, who knew the duke very well by sight, saluted him as heturned to receive instructions. 

The duke looked white, even savage. There was not a pleasant look in hiseyes and about his lips. He appeared to be endeavoring to put a greatrestraint upon himself. There was a momentary silence. Mr. Dacre made amovement as if to interpose. The duke caught him by the arm. 

He spoke: "No, constable, I do not want you. This person is mistaken. "

The constable looked as if he could not quite make out how such a mistakecould have arisen, hesitated, then, with another salute, he moved away. 

The stranger was still holding his watch in his hand. 

"Only eight minutes, " he said. 

The duke seemed to experience some difficulty in giving utterance to whathe had to say. 

"If I give you this five hundred pounds, you--you--"

As the duke paused, as if at a loss for language which was strong enoughto convey his meaning, the stranger laughed. 

"Let us take the adjectives for granted. Besides, it is only boys who calleach other names--men do things. If you give me the five hundredsovereigns, which you have in that bag, at once--in five minutes it willbe too late--I will promise--I will not swear; if you do not credit mysimple promise, you will not believe my solemn affirmation--I willpromise that, possibly within an hour, certainly within an hour and ahalf, the Duchess of Datchet shall return to you absolutelyuninjured--except, of course, as you are already aware, with regard to afew of the hairs of her head. I will promise this on the understandingthat you do not yourself attempt to see where I go, and that you willallow no one else to do so. " This with a glance at Ivor Dacre. "I shallknow at once if I am followed. If you entertain such intentions, you hadbetter, on all accounts, remain in possession of your five hundredpounds. "

The duke eyed him very grimly. 

"I entertain no such intentions--until the duchess returns. "

Again the stranger indulged in that musical laugh of his. 

"Ah, until the duchess returns! Of course, then the bargain's at an end. When you are once more in the enjoyment of her grace's society, you willbe at liberty to set all the dogs in Europe at my heels. I assure you Ifully expect that you will do so--why not?" The duke raised the canvasbag. "My dear duke, ten thousand thanks! You shall see her grace atDatchet House, 'pon my honor, probably within the hour. "

"Well, " commented Ivor Dacre, when the stranger had vanished, with thebag, into Piccadilly, and as the duke and himself moved toward BurlingtonGardens, "if a gentleman is to be robbed, it is as well that he shouldhave another gentleman rob him. "

III

Mr. Dacre eyed his companion covertly as they progressed. His Grace ofDatchet appeared to have some fresh cause for uneasiness. All at once hegave it utterance, in a tone of voice which was extremely somber:

"Ivor, do you think that scoundrel will dare to play me false?"

"I think, " murmured Mr. Dacre, "that he has dared to play you pretty falsealready. "

"I don't mean that. But I mean how am I to know, now that he has hismoney, that he will still not keep Mabel in his clutches?"

There came an echo from Mr. Dacre. 

"Just so--how are you to know?"

"I believe that something of this sort has been done in the States. "

"I thought that there they were content to kidnap them after they weredead. I was not aware that they had, as yet, got quite so far as theliving. "

"I believe that I have heard of something just like this. "

"Possibly; they are giants over there. "

"And in that case the scoundrels, when their demands were met, refused tokeep to the letter of their bargain and asked for more. "

The duke stood still. He clinched his fists, and swore:

"Ivor, if that--villain doesn't keep his word, and Mabel isn't home withinthe hour, by--I shall go mad!"

"My dear Datchet"--Mr. Dacre loved strong language as little as he loved ascene--"let us trust to time and, a little, to your white-hatted andgardenia-buttonholed friend's word of honor. You should have thought ofpossible eventualities before you showed your confidence--really. Suppose, instead of going mad, we first of all go home?"

A hansom stood waiting for a fare at the end of the Arcade. Mr. Dacre hadhanded the duke into it before his grace had quite realized that thevehicle was there. 

"Tell the fellow to drive faster. " That was what the duke said when thecab had started. 

"My dear Datchet, the man's already driving his geerage off its legs. If abobby catches sight of him he'll take his number. "

A moment later, a murmur from the duke:

"I don't know if you're aware that the prince is coming to dinner?"

"I am perfectly aware of it. "

"You take it uncommonly cool. How easy it is to bear our brother'sburdens! Ivor, if Mabel doesn't turn up I shall feel like murder. "

"I sympathize with you, Datchet, with all my heart, though, I may observe, parenthetically, that I very far from realize the situation even yet. Takemy advice. If the duchess does not show quite as soon as we both of usdesire, don't make a scene; just let me see what I can do. "

Judging from the expression of his countenance, the duke was conscious ofno overwhelming desire to witness an exhibition of Mr. Dacre's prowess. 

When the cab reached Datchet House his grace dashed up the steps three ata time. The door flew open. 

"Has the duchess returned?"

"Hereward!"

A voice floated downward from above. Some one came running down thestairs. It was her Grace of Datchet. 

"Mabel!"

She actually rushed into the duke's extended arms. And he kissed her, andshe kissed him--before the servants. 

"So you're not quite dead?" she cried. 

"I am almost, " he said. 

She drew herself a little away from him. 

"Hereward, were you seriously hurt?"

"Do you suppose that I could have been otherwise than seriously hurt?"

"My darling! Was it a Pickford's van?"

The duke stared. 

"A Pickford's van? I don't understand. But come in here. Come along, Ivor. Mabel, you don't see Ivor. "

"How do you do, Mr. Dacre?"

Then the trio withdrew into a little anteroom; it was really time. Eventhen the pair conducted themselves as if Mr. Dacre had been nothing and noone. The duke took the lady's two hands in his. He eyed her fondly. 

"So you are uninjured, with the exception of that lock of hair. Where didthe villain take it from?"

The lady looked a little puzzled. 

"What lock of hair?"

From an envelope which he took from his pocket the duke produced a shiningtress. It was the lock of hair which had arrived in the firstcommunication. "I will have it framed. "

"You will have what framed?" The duchess glanced at what the duke was sotenderly caressing, almost, as it seemed, a little dubiously. "Whatever isit you have there?"

"It is the lock of hair which that scoundrel sent me. " Something in thelady's face caused him to ask a question; "Didn't he tell you he had sentit to me?"

"Hereward!"

"Did the brute tell you that he meant to cut off your little finger?"

A very curious look came into the lady's face. She glanced at the duke asif she, all at once, was half afraid of him. She cast at Mr. Dacre whatreally seemed to be a look of inquiry. Her voice was tremulously anxious. 

"Hereward, did--did the accident affect you mentally?"

"How could it not have affected me mentally? Do you think that my mentalorganization is of steel?"

"But you look so well. "

"Of course I look well, now that I have you back again. Tell me, darling, did that hound actually threaten you with cutting off your arm? If he did, I shall feel half inclined to kill him yet. "

The duchess seemed positively to shrink from her better half's nearneighborhood. 

"Hereward, was it a Pickford's van?"

The duke seemed puzzled. Well he might be. 

"Was what a Pickford's van?"

The lady turned to Mr. Dacre. In her voice there was a ring of anguish. 

"Mr. Dacre, tell me, was it a Pickford's van?"

Ivor could only imitate his relative's repetition of her inquiry. 

"I don't quite catch you--was what a Pickford's van?"

The duchess clasped her hands in front of her. 

"What is it you are keeping from me? What is it you are trying to hide? Iimplore you to tell me the worst, whatever it may be! Do not keep me anylonger in suspense; you do not know what I already have endured. Mr. Dacre, is my husband mad?"

One need scarcely observe that the lady's amazing appeal to Mr. Dacre asto her husband's sanity was received with something like surprise. As theduke continued to stare at her, a dreadful fear began to loom in hisbrain. 

"My darling, your brain is unhinged!"

He advanced to take her two hands again in his; but, to his unmistakabledistress, she shrank away from him. 

"Hereward--don't touch me. How is it that I missed you? Why did you notwait until I came?"

"Wait until you came?"

The duke's bewilderment increased. 

"Surely, if your injuries turned out, after all, to be slight, that wasall the more reason why you should have waited, after sending for me likethat. "

"I sent for you--I?" The duke's tone was grave. "My darling, perhaps youhad better come upstairs. "

"Not until we have had an explanation. You must have known that I shouldcome. Why did you not wait for me after you had sent me that?"

The duchess held out something to the duke. He took it. It was a card--hisown visiting card. Something was written on the back of it. He read aloudwhat was written. 

"Mabel, come to me at once with the bearer. They tell me that they cannottake me home. " It looks like my own writing. "

"Looks like it! It is your writing. "

"It looks like it--and written with a shaky pen. "

"My dear child, one's hand would shake at such a moment as that. "

"Mabel, where did you get this?"

"It was brought to me in Cane and Wilson's. "

"Who brought it?"

"Who brought it? Why, the man you sent. "

"The man I sent!" A light burst upon the duke's brain. He fell back apace. "It's the decoy!"

Her grace echoed the words:

"The decoy?"

"The scoundrel! To set a trap with such a bait! My poor innocent darling, did you think it came from me? Tell me, Mabel, where did he cut off yourhair?"

"Cut off my hair?"

Her grace put her hand to her head as if to make sure that her hair wasthere. 

"Where did he take you to?"

"He took me to Draper's Buildings. "

"Draper's Buildings?"

"I have never been in the City before, but he told me it was Draper'sBuildings. Isn't that near the Stock Exchange?"

"Near the Stock Exchange?"

It seemed rather a curious place to which to take a kidnaped victim. Theman's audacity!

"He told me that you were coming out of the Stock Exchange when a vanknocked you over. He said that he thought it was a Pickford's van--was ita Pickford's van?"

"No, it was not a Pickford's van. Mabel, were you in Draper's Buildingswhen you wrote that letter?"

"Wrote what letter?"

"Have you forgotten it already? I do not believe that there is a word init which will not be branded on my brain until I die. "

"Hereward! What do you mean?"

"Surely you cannot have written me such a letter as that, and then haveforgotten it already?"

He handed her the letter which had arrived in the second communication. She glanced at it, askance. Then she took it with a little gasp. 

"Hereward, if you don't mind, I think I'll take a chair. " She took achair. "Whatever--whatever's this?" As she read the letter the varyingexpressions which passed across her face were, in themselves, a study inpsychology. "Is it possible that you can imagine that, under anyconceivable circumstances, I could have written such a letter as this?"

"Mabel!"

She rose to her feet with emphasis. 

"Hereward, don't say that you thought this came from me!"

"Not from you?" He remembered Knowles's diplomatic reception of theepistle on its first appearance. "I suppose that you will say next thatthis is not a lock of your hair?"

"My dear child, what bee have you got in your bonnet? This a lock of myhair! Why, it's not in the least bit like my hair!"

Which was certainly inaccurate. As far as color was concerned it was analmost perfect match. The duke turned to Mr. Dacre. 

"Ivor, I've had to go through a good deal this afternoon. If I have to gothrough much more, something will crack!" He touched his forehead. "Ithink it's my turn to take a chair. " Not the one which the duchess hadvacated, but one which faced it. He stretched out his legs in front ofhim; he thrust his hands into his trousers pockets; he said, in a tonewhich was not gloomy but absolutely grewsome:

"Might I ask, Mabel, if you have been kidnaped?"

"Kidnaped?"

"The word I used was 'kidnaped. ' But I will spell it if you like. Or Iwill get a dictionary, that you may see its meaning. "

The duchess looked as if she was beginning to be not quite sure if she wasawake or sleeping. She turned to Ivor. 

"Mr. Dacre, has the accident affected Hereward's brain?"

The duke took the words out of his cousin's mouth. 

"On that point, my dear, let me ease your mind. I don't know if you areunder the impression that I should be the same shape after a Pickford'svan had run over me as I was before; but, in any case, I have not been runover by a Pickford's van. So far as I am concerned there has been noaccident. Dismiss that delusion from your mind. "

"Oh!"

"You appear surprised. One might even think that you were sorry. But may Inow ask what you did when you arrived at Draper's Buildings?"

"Did! I looked for you!"

"Indeed! And when you had looked in vain, what was the next item in yourprogramme?"

The lady shrank still farther from him. 

"Hereward, have you been having a jest at my expense? Can you have been socruel?" Tears stood in her eyes. 

Rising, the duke laid his hand upon her arm. 

"Mabel, tell me--what did you do when you had looked for me in vain?"

"I looked for you upstairs and downstairs and everywhere. It was quite alarge place, it took me ever such a time. I thought that I should godistracted. Nobody seemed to know anything about you, or even that therehad been an accident at all--it was all offices. I couldn't make it out inthe least, and the people didn't seem to be able to make me out either. Sowhen I couldn't find you anywhere I came straight home again. "

The duke was silent for a moment. Then with funereal gravity he turned toMr. Dacre. He put to him this question:

"Ivor, what are you laughing at?"

Mr. Dacre drew his hand across his mouth with rather a suspicious gesture. 

"My dear fellow, only a smile!"

The duchess looked from one to the other. 

"What have you two been doing? What is the joke?"

With an air of preternatural solemnity the duke took two letters from thebreast pocket of his coat. 

"Mabel, you have already seen your letter. You have already seen the lockof your hair. Just look at this--and that. "

He gave her the two very singular communications which had arrived in sucha mysterious manner, and so quickly one after the other. She read themwith wide-open eyes. 

"Hereward! Wherever did these come from?"

The duke was standing with his legs apart, and his hands in his trouserspockets. "I would give--I would give another five hundred pounds to know. Shall I tell you, madam, what I have been doing? I have been presentingfive hundred golden sovereigns to a perfect stranger, with a top hat, anda gardenia in his buttonhole. "

"Whatever for?"

"If you have perused those documents which you have in your hand, you willhave some faint idea. Ivor, when it's your funeral, I'll smile. Mabel, Duchess of Datchet, it is beginning to dawn upon the vacuum whichrepresents my brain that I've been the victim of one of the prettiestthings in practical jokes that ever yet was planned. When that fellowbrought you that card at Cane and Wilson's--which, I need scarcely tellyou, never came from me--some one walked out of the front entrance who wasso exactly like you that both Barnes and Moysey took her for you. Moyseyshowed her into the carriage, and Barnes drove her home. But when thecarriage reached home it was empty. Your double had got out upon theroad. "

The duchess uttered a sound which was half gasp, half sigh. 

"Hereward!"

"Barnes and Moysey, with beautiful and childlike innocence, when theyfound that they had brought the thing home empty, came straightway andtold me that you had jumped out of the brougham while it had been drivingfull pelt through the streets. While I was digesting that piece ofinformation there came the first epistle, with the lock of your hair. Before I had time to digest that there came the second epistle, with yoursinside. "

"It seems incredible!"

"It sounds incredible; but unfathomable is the folly of man, especially ofa man who loves his wife. " The duke crossed to Mr. Dacre. "I don't want, Ivor, to suggest anything in the way of bribery and corruption, but if youcould keep this matter to yourself, and not mention it to your friends, our white-hatted and gardenia-buttonholed acquaintance is welcome to hisfive hundred pounds, and--Mabel, what on earth are you laughing at?"

The duchess appeared, all at once, to be seized with inextinguishablelaughter. 

"Hereward, " she cried, "just think how that man must be laughing at you!"

And the Duke of Datchet thought of it. 

_The Minor Canon_

It was Monday, and in the afternoon, as I was walking along the HighStreet of Marchbury, I was met by a distinguished-looking person whom Ihad observed at the services in the cathedral on the previous day. Now itchanced on that Sunday that I was singing the service. Properly speaking, it was not my turn; but, as my brother minor canons were either away fromMarchbury or ill in bed, I was the only one left to perform the necessaryduty. The distinguished-looking person was a tall, big man with a roundfat face and small features. His eyes, his hair and mustache (his face wasbare but for a small mustache) were quite black, and he had a verypleasant and genial expression. He wore a tall hat, set rather jauntily onhis head, and he was dressed in black with a long frock coat buttonedacross the chest and fitting him close to the body. As he came, with ahalf saunter, half swagger, along the street, I knew him again at once byhis appearance; and, as he came nearer, I saw from his manner that he wasintending to stop and speak to me, for he slightly raised his hat and ina soft, melodious voice with a colonial "twang" which was far from beingdisagreeable, and which, indeed, to my ear gave a certain additionalinterest to his remarks, he saluted me with "Good day, sir!"

"Good day, " I answered, with just a little reserve in my tone. 

"I hope, sir, " he began, "you will excuse my stopping you in the street, but I wish to tell you how very much I enjoyed the music at your cathedralyesterday. I am an Australian, sir, and we have no such music in mycountry. "

"I suppose not, " I said. 

"No, sir, " he went on, "nothing nearly so fine. I am very fond of music, and as my business brought me in this direction, I thought I would stop atyour city and take the opportunity of paying a visit to your grandcathedral. And I am delighted I came; so pleased, indeed, that I shouldlike to leave some memorial of my visit behind me. I should like, sir, todo something for your choir. "

"I am sure it is very kind of you, " I replied. 

"Yes, I should certainly be glad if you could suggest to me something Imight do in this way. As regards money, I may say that I have plenty ofit. I am the owner of a most valuable property. My business relationsextend throughout the world, and if I am as fortunate in the projects ofthe future as I have been in the past, I shall probably one day achievethe proud position of being the richest man in the world. "

I did not like to undertake myself the responsibility of advising orsuggesting, so I simply said:

"I cannot venture to say, offhand, what would be the most acceptable wayof showing your great kindness and generosity, but I should certainlyrecommend you to put yourself in communication with the dean. "

"Thank you, sir, " said my Australian friend, "I will do so. And now, sir, "he continued, "let me say how much I admire your voice. It is, withoutexception, the very finest and clearest voice I have ever heard. "

"Really, " I answered, quite overcome with such unqualified praise, "reallyit is very good of you to say so. "

"Ah, but I feel it, my dear sir. I have been round the world, from Sydneyto Frisco, across the continent of America" (he called it Amerrker) "toNew York City, then on to England, and to-morrow I shall leave your cityto continue my travels. But in all my experience I have never heard sogrand a voice as your own. "

This and a great deal more he said in the same strain, which modestyforbids me to reproduce. 

Now I am not without some knowledge of the world outside the close ofMarchbury Cathedral, and I could not listen to such a "flattering tale"without having my suspicions aroused. Who and what is this man? thought I. I looked at him narrowly. At first the thought flashed across me that hemight be a "swell mobsman. " But no, his face was too good for that;besides, no man with that huge frame, that personality so marked and soeasily recognizable, could be a swindler; he could not escape detection asingle hour. I dismissed the ungenerous thought. Perhaps he is rich, as hesays. We do hear of munificent donations by benevolent millionaires nowand then. What if this Australian, attracted by the glories of the oldcathedral, should now appear as a _deus ex machina_ to reëndow the choir, or to found a musical professoriate in connection with the choir, appointing me the first occupant of the professorial chair?

These thoughts flashed across my mind in the momentary pause of his fluenttongue. 

"As for yourself, sir, " he began again, "I have something to propose whichI trust may not prove unwelcome. But the public street is hardly asuitable place to discuss my proposal. May I call upon you this evening atyour house in the close? I know which it is, for I happened to see you gointo it yesterday after the morning service. "

"I shall be very pleased to see you, " I replied. "We are going out todinner this evening, but I shall be at home and disengaged till aboutseven. "

"Thank you very much. Then I shall do myself the pleasure of calling uponyou about six o'clock. Till then, farewell!" A graceful wave of the hand, and my unknown friend had disappeared round the corner of the street. 

Now at last, I thought, something is going to happen in my uneventfullife--something to break the monotony of existence. Of course, he musthave inquired my name--he could get that from any of the cathedralvergers--and, as he said, he had observed whereabouts in the close Ilived. What is he coming to see me for? I wondered. I spent the rest ofthe afternoon in making the wildest surmises. I was castle-building inSpain at a furious rate. At one time I imagined that this faithful son ofthe church--as he appeared to me--was going to build and endow a grandcathedral in Australia on condition that I should be appointed dean at ayearly stipend of, say, ten thousand pounds. Or perhaps, I said to myself, he will beg me to accept a sum of money--I never thought of it as lessthan a thousand pounds--as a slight recognition of and tribute to myremarkable vocal ability. 

I took a long, lonely walk into the country to correct these ridiculousfancies and to steady my mind, and when I reached home and had refreshedmyself with a quiet cup of afternoon tea, I felt I was morally andphysically prepared for my interview with the opulent stranger. 

Punctually as the cathedral clock struck six there was a ring at thevisitor's bell. In a moment or two my unknown friend was shown into thedrawing-room, which he entered with the easy air of a man of the world. Inoticed he was carrying a small black bag. 

"How do you do again, Mr. Dale?" he said as though we were oldacquaintances; "you see I have come sharp to my time. "

"Yes, " I answered, "and I am pleased to see you; do sit down. " He sankinto my best armchair, and placed his bag on the floor beside him. 

"Since we met in the afternoon, " he said, "I have written a letter toyour dean, expressing the great pleasure I felt in listening to yourchoir, and at the same time I inclosed a five-pound note, which I beggedhim to divide among the choir boys and men, from Alexander Poulter, Esq. , of Poulter's Pills. You have of course heard of the world-renownedPoulter's Pills. I am Poulter!"

Poulter of Poulter's Pills! My heart sank within me! A five-pound note! Myairy castles were tottering!

"I also sent him a couple of hundred of my pamphlets, which I said Itrusted he would be so kind as to distribute in the close. "

I was aghast!

"And now, with regard to the special object of my call, Mr. Dale. If youwill allow me to say so, you are not making the most of that grand voiceof yours; you are hidden under an ecclesiastical bushel here--lost to theworld. You are wasting your vocal strength and sweetness on the desertair, so to speak. Why, if I may hazard a guess, I don't suppose you makefive hundred a year here, at the outside?"

I could say nothing. 

"Well, now, I can put you into the way of making at least three or fourtimes as much as that. Listen! I am Alexander Poulter, of Poulter's Pills. I have a proposal to make to you. The scheme is bound to succeed, but Iwant your help. Accept my proposal and your fortune's made. Did you everhear Moody and Sankey?" he asked abruptly. 

The man is an idiot, thought I; he is now fairly carried away with hisparticular mania. Will it last long? Shall I ring?

"Novelty, my dear sir, " he went on, "is the rule of the day; and theremust be novelty in advertising, as in everything else, to catch the publicinterest. So I intend to go on a tour, lecturing on the merits ofPoulter's Pills in all the principal halls of all the principal towns allover the world. But I have been delayed in carrying out my idea till Icould associate myself with a gentleman such as yourself. Will you joinme? I should be the Moody of the tour; you would be its Sankey. I wouldspeak my patter, and you would intersperse my orations with melodiousballads bearing upon the virtues of Poulter's Pills. The ballads are allready!"

So saying, he opened that bag and drew forth from its recesses nothingmore alarming than a thick roll of manuscript music. 

"The verses are my own, " he said, with a little touch of pride; "and asfor the music, I thought it better to make use of popular melodies, so asto enable an audience to join in the chorus. See, here is one of theballads: 'Darling, I am better now. ' It describes the woes of a fondlover, or rather his physical ailments, until he went through a course ofPoulter. Here's another: 'I'm ninety-five! I'm ninety-five!' You catch thedrift of that, of course--a healthy old age, secured by taking Poulter'sPills. Ah! what's this? 'Little sister's last request. ' I fancy the ideaof that is to beg the family never to be without Poulter's Pills. Hereagain: 'Then you'll remember me!' I'm afraid that title is not original;never mind, the song is. And here is--but there are many more, and I won'tdetain you with them now. " He saw, perhaps, I was getting impatient. ThankHeaven, however, he was no escaped lunatic. I was safe!

"Mr. Poulter, " said I, "I took you this afternoon for a disinterested andphilanthropic millionaire; you take me for--for--something different fromwhat I am. We have both made mistakes. In a word, it is impossible for meto accept your offer!"

"Is that final?" asked Poulter. 

"Certainly, " said I. 

Poulter gathered his manuscripts together and replaced them in the bag, and got up to leave the room. 

"Good evening, Mr. Dale, " he said mournfully, as I opened the door of theroom. "Good evening"--he kept on talking till he was fairly out of thehouse--"mark my words, you'll be sorry--very sorry--one day that you didnot fall in with my scheme. Offers like mine don't come every day, and youwill one day regret having refused it. "

With these words he left the house. 

I had little appetite for my dinner that evening. 

_The Pipe_

 "RANDOLPH CRESCENT, N. W. 

 "MY DEAR PUGH--I hope you will like the pipe which I send with this. It is rather a curious example of a certain school of Indian carving. And is a present from

 "Yours truly, Joseph Tress. "

It was really very handsome of Tress--very handsome! The more especiallyas I was aware that to give presents was not exactly in Tress's line. Thetruth is that when I saw what manner of pipe it was I was amazed. It wascontained in a sandalwood box, which was itself illustrated with someremarkable specimens of carving. I use the word "remarkable" advisedly, because, although the workmanship was undoubtedly, in its way, artistic, the result could not be described as beautiful. The carver had thoughtproper to ornament the box with some of the ugliest figures I remember tohave seen. They appeared to me to be devils. Or perhaps they were intendedto represent deities appertaining to some mythological system with which, thank goodness, I am unacquainted. The pipe itself was worthy of the casein which it was contained. It was of meerschaum, with an amber mouthpiece. It was rather too large for ordinary smoking. But then, of course, onedoesn't smoke a pipe like that. There are pipes in my collection which Ishould as soon think of smoking as I should of eating. Ask a china maniacto let you have afternoon tea out of his Old Chelsea, and you will learnsome home truths as to the durability of human friendships. The glory ofthe pipe, as Tress had suggested, lay in its carving. Not that I claimthat it was beautiful, any more than I make such a claim for the carvingon the box, but, as Tress said in his note, it was curious. 

The stem and the bowl were quite plain, but on the edge of the bowl wasperched some kind of lizard. I told myself it was an octopus when I firstsaw it, but I have since had reason to believe that it was some almostunique member of the lizard tribe. The creature was represented asclimbing over the edge of the bowl down toward the stem, and its legs, orfeelers, or tentacula, or whatever the things are called, were, if I mayuse a vulgarism, sprawling about "all over the place. " For instance, twoor three of them were twined about the bowl, two or three of them weretwisted round the stem, and one, a particularly horrible one, was upliftedin the air, so that if you put the pipe in your mouth the thing waspointing straight at your nose. 

Not the least agreeable feature about the creature was that it washideously lifelike. It appeared to have been carved in amber, but somecoloring matter must have been introduced, for inside the amber thecreature was of a peculiarly ghastly green. The more I examined the pipethe more amazed I was at Tress's generosity. He and I are rivalcollectors. I am not going to say, in so many words, that his collectionof pipes contains nothing but rubbish, because, as a matter of fact, hehas two or three rather decent specimens. But to compare his collection tomine would be absurd. Tress is conscious of this, and he resents it. Heresents it to such an extent that he has been known, at least on oneoccasion, to declare that one single pipe of his--I believe he alluded tothe Brummagem relic preposterously attributed to Sir Walter Raleigh--wasworth the whole of my collection put together. Although I have forgiventhis, as I hope I always shall forgive remarks made when envious passionsget the better of our nobler nature, even of a Joseph Tress, it is not tobe supposed that I have forgotten it. He was, therefore, not at all thesort of person from whom I expected to receive a present. And such apresent! I do not believe that he himself had a finer pipe in hiscollection. And to have given it to me! I had misjudged the man. Iwondered where he had got it from. I had seen his pipes; I knew them offby heart--and some nice trumpery he has among them, too! but I had neverseen _that_ pipe before. The more I looked at it, the more my amazementgrew. The beast perched upon the edge of the bowl was so lifelike. Its twobead-like eyes seemed to gleam at me with positively human intelligence. The pipe fascinated me to such an extent that I actually resolvedto--smoke it!

I filled it with Perique. Ordinarily I use Birdseye, but on those veryrare occasions on which I use a specimen I smoke Perique. I lit up withquite a small sensation of excitement. As I did so I kept my eyes perforcefixed upon the beast. The beast pointed its upraised tentacle directly atme. As I inhaled the pungent tobacco that tentacle impressed me with afeeling of actual uncanniness. It was broad daylight, and I was smoking infront of the window, yet to such an extent was I affected that it seemedto me that the tentacle was not only vibrating, which, owing to thepeculiarity of its position, was quite within the range of probability, but actually moving, elongating--stretching forward, that is, farthertoward me, and toward the tip of my nose. So impressed was I by this ideathat I took the pipe out of my mouth and minutely examined the beast. Really, the delusion was excusable. So cunningly had the artist wroughtthat he succeeded in producing a creature which, such was its uncanniness, I could only hope had no original in nature. 

Replacing the pipe between my lips I took several whiffs. Never hadsmoking had such an effect on me before. Either the pipe, or the creatureon it, exercised some singular fascination. I seemed, without an instant'swarning, to be passing into some land of dreams. I saw the beast, whichwas perched upon the bowl, writhe and twist. I saw it lift itself bodilyfrom the meerschaum. 

II

"Feeling better now?"

I looked up. Joseph Tress was speaking. 

"What's the matter? Have I been ill?"

"You appear to have been in some kind of swoon. "

Tress's tone was peculiar, even a little dry. 

"Swoon! I never was guilty of such a thing in my life. "

"Nor was I, until I smoked that pipe. "

I sat up. The act of sitting up made me conscious of the fact that I hadbeen lying down. Conscious, too, that I was feeling more than a littledazed. It seemed as though I was waking out of some strange, lethargicsleep--a kind of feeling which I have read of and heard about, but neverbefore experienced. 

"Where am I?"

"You're on the couch in your own room. You _were_ on the floor; but Ithought it would be better to pick you up and place you on thecouch--though no one performed the same kind office to me when I was onthe floor. "

Again Tress's tone was distinctly dry. 

"How came _you_ here?"

"Ah, that's the question. " He rubbed his chin--a habit of his which hasannoyed me more than once before. "Do you think you're sufficientlyrecovered to enable you to understand a little simple explanation?" Istared at him, amazed. He went on stroking his chin. "The truth is thatwhen I sent you the pipe I made a slight omission. "

"An omission?"

"I omitted to advise you not to smoke it. "

"And why?"

"Because--well, I've reason to believe the thing is drugged. "

"Drugged!"

"Or poisoned. "

"Poisoned!" I was wide awake enough then. I jumped off the couch with acelerity which proved it. 

"It is this way. I became its owner in rather a singular manner. " Hepaused, as if for me to make a remark; but I was silent. "It is not oftenthat I smoke a specimen, but, for some reason, I did smoke this. Icommenced to smoke it, that is. How long I continued to smoke it is morethan I can say. It had on me the same peculiar effect which it appears tohave had on you. When I recovered consciousness I was lying on the floor. "

"On the floor?"

"On the floor. In about as uncomfortable a position as you can easilyconceive. I was lying face downward, with my legs bent under me. I wasnever so surprised in my life as I was when I found myself _where_ I was. At first I supposed that I had had a stroke. But by degrees it dawned uponme that I didn't _feel_ as though I had had a stroke. " Tress, by the way, has been an army surgeon. "I was conscious of distinct nausea. Lookingabout, I saw the pipe. With me it had fallen on to the floor. I took itfor granted, considering the delicacy of the carving, that the fall hadbroken it. But when I picked it up I found it quite uninjured. While I wasexamining it a thought flashed to my brain. Might it not be answerable forwhat had happened to me? Suppose, for instance, it was drugged? I hadheard of such things. Besides, in my case were present all the symptoms ofdrug poisoning, though what drug had been used I couldn't in the leastconceive. I resolved that I would give the pipe another trial. "

"On yourself? or on another party, meaning me?"

"On myself, my dear Pugh--on myself! At that point of my investigations Ihad not begun to think of you. I lit up and had another smoke. "

"With what result?"

"Well, that depends on the standpoint from which you regard the thing. From one point of view the result was wholly satisfactory--I proved thatthe thing was drugged, and more. "

"Did you have another fall?"

"I did. And something else besides. "

"On that account, I presume, you resolved to pass the treasure on to me?"

"Partly on that account, and partly on another. "

"On my word, I appreciate your generosity. You might have labeled thething as poison. "

"Exactly. But then you must remember how often you have told me that you_never_ smoke your specimens. "

"That was no reason why you shouldn't have given me a hint that the thingwas more dangerous than dynamite. "

"That did occur to me afterwards. Therefore I called to supply the slightomission. "

"_Slight_ omission, you call it! I wonder what you would have called it ifyou had found me dead. "

"If I had known that you _intended_ smoking it I should not have been atall surprised if I had. "

"Really, Tress, I appreciate your kindness more and more! And where isthis example of your splendid benevolence? Have you pocketed it, regretting your lapse into the unaccustomed paths of generosity? Or is itsmashed to atoms?"

"Neither the one nor the other. You will find the pipe upon the table. Ineither desire its restoration nor is it in any way injured. It is merelyan expression of personal opinion when I say that I don't believe that it_could_ be injured. Of course, having discovered its deleteriousproperties, you will not want to smoke it again. You will therefore beable to enjoy the consciousness of being the possessor of what I honestlybelieve to be the most remarkable pipe in existence. Good day, Pugh. "

He was gone before I could say a word. I immediately concluded, from theprecipitancy of his flight, that the pipe _was_ injured. But when Isubjected it to close examination I could discover no signs of damage. While I was still eying it with jealous scrutiny the door reopened, andTress came in again. 

"By the way, Pugh, there is one thing I might mention, especially as Iknow it won't make any difference to you. "

"That depends on what it is. If you have changed your mind, and want thepipe back again, I tell you frankly that it won't. In my opinion, a thingonce given is given for good. "

"Quite so; I don't want it back again. You may make your mind easy on thatpoint. I merely wanted to tell you _why_ I gave it you. "

"You have told me that already. "

"Only partly, my dear Pugh--only partly. You don't suppose I should havegiven you such a pipe as that merely because it happened to be drugged?Scarcely! I gave it you because I discovered from indisputable evidence, and to my cost, that it was haunted. "

"Haunted?"

"Yes, haunted. Good day. "

He was gone again. I ran out of the room, and shouted after him down thestairs. He was already at the bottom of the flight. 

"Tress! Come back! What do you mean by talking such nonsense?"

"Of course it's only nonsense. We know that that sort of thing always isnonsense. But if you should have reason to suppose that there is somethingin it besides nonsense, you may think it worth your while to makeinquiries of me. But I won't have that pipe back again in my possession onany terms--mind that!"

The bang of the front door told me that he had gone out into the street. Ilet him go. I laughed to myself as I reëntered the room. Haunted! That wasnot a bad idea of his. I saw the whole position at a glance. The truth ofthe matter was that he did regret his generosity, and he was ready to goany lengths if he could only succeed in cajoling me into restoring hisgift. He was aware that I have views upon certain matters which are notwholly in accordance with those which are popularly supposed to be theviews of the day, and particularly that on the question of what arecommonly called supernatural visitations I have a standpoint of my own. Therefore, it was not a bad move on his part to try to make me believethat about the pipe on which he knew I had set my heart there wassomething which could not be accounted for by ordinary laws. Yet, as hisown sense would have told him it would do, if he had only allowed himselfto reflect for a moment, the move failed. Because I am not yet so far goneas to suppose that a pipe, a thing of meerschaum and of amber, in thesense in which I understand the word, _could_ be haunted--a pipe, a merepipe. 

"Hollo! I thought the creature's legs were twined right round the bowl!"

I was holding the pipe in my hand, regarding it with the affectionate eyeswith which a connoisseur does regard a curio, when I was induced to makethis exclamation. I was certainly under the impression that, when I firsttook the pipe out of the box, two, if not three of the feelers had beentwined about the bowl--twined tightly, so that you could not see daylightbetween them and it. Now they were almost entirely detached, only the tipstouching the meerschaum, and those particular feelers were gathered up asthough the creature were in the act of taking a spring. Of course I wasunder a misapprehension: the feelers _couldn't_ have been twined; a momentbefore I should have been ready to bet a thousand to one that they were. Still, one does make mistakes, and very egregious mistakes, at times. Atthe same time, I confess that when I saw that dreadful-looking animalpoised on the extreme edge of the bowl, for all the world as though itwere just going to spring at me, I was a little startled. I rememberedthat when I was smoking the pipe I did think I saw the uplifted tentaclemoving, as though it were reaching out to me. And I had a clearrecollection that just as I had been sinking into that strange state ofunconsciousness, I had been under the impression that the creature waswrithing and twisting, as though it had suddenly become instinct withlife. Under the circumstances, these reflections were not pleasant. Iwished Tress had not talked that nonsense about the thing being haunted. It was surely sufficient to know that it was drugged and poisonous, without anything else. 

I replaced it in the sandalwood box. I locked the box in a cabinet. Quiteapart from the question as to whether that pipe was or was not haunted, Iknow it haunted me. It was with me in a figurative--which was worse thanactual--sense all the day. Still worse, it was with me all the night. Itwas with me in my dreams. Such dreams! Possibly I had not yet whollyrecovered from the effects of that insidious drug, but, whether or no, itwas very wrong of Tress to set my thoughts into such a channel. He knowsthat I am of a highly imaginative temperament, and that it is easier toget morbid thoughts into my mind than to get them out again. Before thatnight was through I wished very heartily that I had never seen the pipe! Iwoke from one nightmare to fall into another. One dreadful dream was withme all the time--of a hideous, green reptile which advanced toward me outof some awful darkness, slowly, inch by inch, until it clutched me roundthe neck, and, gluing its lips to mine, sucked the life's blood out of myveins as it embraced me with a slimy kiss. Such dreams are not restful. Iwoke anything but refreshed when the morning came. And when I got up anddressed I felt that, on the whole, it would perhaps have been better if Inever had gone to bed. My nerves were unstrung, and I had that generallytremulous feeling which is, I believe, an inseparable companion of themore advanced stages of dipsomania. I ate no breakfast. I am no breakfasteater as a rule, but that morning I ate absolutely nothing. 

"If this sort of thing is to continue, I will let Tress have his pipeagain. He may have the laugh of me, but anything is better than this. "

It was with almost funereal forebodings that I went to the cabinet inwhich I had placed the sandalwood box. But when I opened it my feelings ofgloom partially vanished. Of what phantasies had I been guilty! It musthave been an entire delusion on my part to have supposed that thosetentacula had ever been twined about the bowl. The creature was inexactly the same position in which I had left it the day before--as, ofcourse, I knew it would be--poised, as if about to spring. I was tellingmyself how foolish I had been to allow myself to dwell for a moment onTress's words, when Martin Brasher was shown in. 

Brasher is an old friend of mine. We have a common ground--ghosts. Only weapproach them from different points of view. He takes thescientific--psychological--inquiry side. He is always anxious to hear of aghost, so that he may have an opportunity of "showing it up. "

"I've something in your line here, " I observed, as he came in. 

"In my line? How so? _I'm_ not pipe mad. "

"No; but you're ghost mad. And this is a haunted pipe. "

"A haunted pipe! I think you're rather more mad about ghosts, my dearPugh, than I am. "

Then I told him all about it. He was deeply interested, especially when Itold him that the pipe was drugged. But when I repeated Tress's wordsabout its being haunted, and mentioned my own delusion about the creaturemoving, he took a more serious view of the case than I had expected hewould do. 

"I propose that we act on Tress's suggestion, and go and make inquiries ofhim. "

"But you don't really think that there is anything in it?"

"On these subjects I never allow myself to think at all. There are Tress'swords, and there is your story. It is agreed on all hands that the pipehas peculiar properties. It seems to me that there is a sufficient casehere to merit inquiry. "

He persuaded me. I went with him. The pipe, in the sandalwood box, wenttoo. Tress received us with a grin--a grin which was accentuated when Iplaced the sandalwood box on the table. 

"You understand, " he said, "that a gift is a gift. On no terms will Iconsent to receive that pipe back in my possession. "

I was rather nettled by his tone. 

"You need be under no alarm. I have no intention of suggesting anything ofthe kind. "

"Our business here, " began Brasher--I must own that his manner is a littleponderous--"is of a scientific, I may say also, and at the same time, of ajudicial nature. Our object is the Pursuit of Truth and the Advancement ofInquiry. "

"Have you been trying another smoke?" inquired Tress, nodding his headtoward me. 

Before I had time to answer, Brasher went droning on:

"Our friend here tells me that you say this pipe is haunted. "

"I say it is haunted because it _is_ haunted. "

I looked at Tress. I half suspected that he was poking fun at us. But heappeared to be serious enough. 

"In these matters, " remarked Brasher, as though he were giving utteranceto a new and important truth, "there is a scientific and nonscientificmethod of inquiry. The scientific method is to begin at the beginning. MayI ask how this pipe came into your possession?"

Tress paused before he answered. 

"You may ask. " He paused again. "Oh, you certainly may ask. But it doesn'tfollow that I shall tell you. "

"Surely your object, like ours, can be but the Spreading About of theTruth?"

"I don't see it at all. It is possible to imagine a case in which thespreading about of the truth might make me look a little awkward. "

"Indeed!" Brasher pursed up his lips. "Your words would almost lead one tosuppose that there was something about your method of acquiring the pipewhich you have good and weighty reasons for concealing. "

"I don't know why I should conceal the thing from you. I don't supposeeither of you is any better than I am. I don't mind telling you how I gotthe pipe. I stole it. "

"Stole it!"

Brasher seemed both amazed and shocked. But I, who had previous experienceof Tress's methods of adding to his collection, was not at all surprised. Some of the pipes which he calls his, if only the whole truth about themwere publicly known, would send him to jail. 

"That's nothing!" he continued. "All collectors steal! The eighthcommandment was not intended to apply to them. Why, Pugh there has'conveyed' three fourths of the pipes which he flatters himself are his. "

I was so dumfoundered by the charge that it took my breath away. I sat inastounded silence. Tress went raving on:

"I was so shy of this particular pipe when I had obtained it, that I putit away for quite three months. When I took it out to have a look at itsomething about the thing so tickled me that I resolved to smoke it. Owingto peculiar circumstances attending the manner in which the thing cameinto my possession, and on which I need not dwell--you don't like to dwellon those sort of things, do you, Pugh?--I knew really nothing about thepipe. As was the case with Pugh, one peculiarity I learned from actualexperience. It was also from actual experience that I learned that thething was--well, I said haunted, but you may use any other word you like. "

"Tell us, as briefly as possible, what it was you really did discover. "

"Take the pipe out of the box!" Brasher took the pipe out of the box andheld it in his hand. "You see that creature on it. Well, when I first hadit it was underneath the pipe. "

"How do you mean that it was underneath the pipe?"

"It was bunched together underneath the stem, just at the end of themouthpiece, in the same way in which a fly might be suspended from theceiling. When I began to smoke the pipe I saw the creature move. "

"But I thought that unconsciousness immediately followed. "

"It did follow, but not before I saw that the thing was moving. It wasbecause I thought that I had been, in a way, a victim of delirium that Itried the second smoke. Suspecting that the thing was drugged I swallowedwhat I believed would prove a powerful antidote. It enabled me to resistthe influence of the narcotic much longer than before, and while I stillretained my senses I saw the creature crawl along under the stem and overthe bowl. It was that sight, I believe, as much as anything else, whichsent me silly. When I came to I then and there decided to present the pipeto Pugh. There is one more thing I would remark. When the pipe left me thecreature's legs were twined about the bowl. Now they are withdrawn. Possibly you, Pugh, are able to cap my story with a little one which isall your own. "

"I certainly did imagine that I saw the creature move. But I supposed thatwhile I was under the influence of the drug imagination had played me atrick. "

"Not a bit of it! Depend upon it, the beast is bewitched. Even to my eyeit looks as though it were, and to a trained eye like yours, Pugh! You'vebeen looking for the devil a long time, and you've got him at last. "

"I--I wish you wouldn't make those remarks, Tress. They jar on me. "

"I confess, " interpolated Brasher--I noticed that he had put the pipe downon the table as though he were tired of holding it--"that, to _my_thinking, such remarks are not appropriate. At the same time what you havetold us is, I am bound to allow, a little curious. But of course what Irequire is ocular demonstration. I haven't seen the movement myself. "

"No, but you very soon will do if you care to have a pull at the pipe onyour own account. Do, Brasher, to oblige me! There's a dear!"

"It appears, then, that the movement is only observable when the pipe issmoked. We have at least arrived at step No. 1. "

"Here's a match, Brasher! Light up, and we shall have arrived at step No. 2. "

Tress lit a match and held it out to Brasher. Brasher retreated from itsneighborhood. 

"Thank you, Mr. Tress, I am no smoker, as you are aware. And I have nodesire to acquire the art of smoking by means of a poisoned pipe. "

Tress laughed. He blew out the match and threw it into the grate. 

"Then I tell you what I'll do--I'll have up Bob. "

"Bob--why Bob?"

"Bob"--whose real name was Robert Haines, though I should think he musthave forgotten the fact, so seldom was he addressed by it--was Tress'sservant. He had been an old soldier, and had accompanied his master whenhe left the service. He was as depraved a character as Tress himself. I amnot sure even that he was not worse than his master. I shall never forgethow he once behaved toward myself. He actually had the assurance to accuseme of attempting to steal the Wardour Street relic which Tress fondlydeludes himself was once the property of Sir Walter Raleigh. The truth isthat I had slipped it with my handkerchief into my pocket in a fit ofabsence of mind. A man who could accuse _me_ of such a thing would beguilty of anything. I was therefore quite at one with Brasher when heasked what Bob could possibly be wanted for. Tress explained. 

"I'll get him to smoke the pipe, " he said. 

Brasher and I exchanged glances, but we refrained from speech. 

"It won't do him any harm, " said Tress. 

"What--not a poisoned pipe?" asked Brasher. 

"It's not poisoned--it's only drugged. "

"_Only_ drugged!"

"Nothing hurts Bob. He is like an ostrich. He has digestive organs whichare peculiarly his own. It will only serve him as it served me--andPugh--it will knock him over. It is all done in the Pursuit of Truth andfor the Advancement of Inquiry. "

I could see that Brasher did not altogether like the tone in which Tressrepeated his words. As for me, it was not to be supposed that I should putmyself out in a matter which in no way concerned me. If Tress chose topoison the man, it was his affair, not mine. He went to the door andshouted:

"Bob! Come here, you scoundrel!"

That is the way in which he speaks to him. No really decent servant wouldstand it. I shouldn't care to address Nalder, my servant, in such a way. He would give me notice on the spot. Bob came in. He is a great hulkingfellow who is always on the grin. Tress had a decanter of brandy in hishand. He filled a tumbler with the neat spirit. 

"Bob, what would you say to a glassful of brandy--the real thing--my boy?"

"Thank you, sir. "

"And what would you say to a pull at a pipe when the brandy is drunk!"

"A pipe?" The fellow is sharp enough when he likes. I saw him look at thepipe upon the table, and then at us, and then a gleam of intelligence cameinto his eyes. "I'd do it for a dollar, sir. "

"A dollar, you thief?"

"I meant ten shillings, sir. "

"Ten shillings, you brazen vagabond?"

"I should have said a pound. "

"A pound! Was ever the like of that! Do I understand you to ask a poundfor taking a pull at your master's pipe?"

"I'm thinking that I'll have to make it two. "

"The deuce you are! Here, Pugh, lend me a pound. "

"I'm afraid I've left my purse behind. "

"Then lend me ten shillings--Ananias!"

"I doubt if I have more than five. "

"Then give me the five. And, Brasher, lend me the other fifteen. "

Brasher lent him the fifteen. I doubt if we shall either of us ever seeour money again. He handed the pound to Bob. 

"Here's the brandy--drink it up!" Bob drank it without a word, drainingthe glass of every drop. "And here's the pipe. "

"Is it poisoned, sir?"

"Poisoned, you villain! What do you mean?"

"It isn't the first time I've seen your tricks, sir--is it now? And you'renot the one to give a pound for nothing at all. If it kills me you'll sendmy body to my mother--she'd like to know that I was dead. "

"Send your body to your grandmother! You idiot, sit down and smoke!"

Bob sat down. Tress had filled the pipe, and handed it, with a lightedmatch, to Bob. The fellow declined the match. He handled the pipe verygingerly, turning it over and over, eying it with all his eyes. 

"Thank you, sir--I'll light up myself if it's the same to you. I carrymatches of my own. It's a beautiful pipe, entirely. I never see the likeof it for ugliness. And what's the slimy-looking varmint that looks asthough it would like to have my life? Is it living, or is it dead?"

"Come, we don't want to sit here all day, my man!"

"Well, sir, the look of this here pipe has quite upset my stomach. I'dlike another drop of liquor, if it's the same to you. "

"Another drop! Why, you've had a tumblerful already! Here's anothertumblerful to put on top of that. You won't want the pipe to killyou--you'll be killed before you get to it. "

"And isn't it better to die a natural death?"

Bob emptied the second tumbler of brandy as though it were water. Ibelieve he would empty a hogshead without turning a hair! Then he gaveanother look at the pipe. Then, taking a match from his waistcoat pocket, he drew a long breath, as though he were resigning himself to fate. Striking the match on the seat of his trousers, while, shaded by his hand, the flame was gathering strength, he looked at each of us in turn. When helooked at Tress I distinctly saw him wink his eye. What my feelings wouldhave been if a servant of mine had winked his eye at me I am unable toimagine! The match was applied to the tobacco, a puff of smoke camethrough his lips--the pipe was alight!

During this process of lighting the pipe we had sat--I do not wish to useexaggerated language, but we had sat and watched that alcoholic scamp'sproceedings as though we were witnessing an action which would leave itsmark upon the age. When we saw the pipe was lighted we gave a simultaneousstart. Brasher put his hands under his coat tails and gave a kind of hop. I raised myself a good six inches from my chair, and Tress rubbed hispalms together with a chuckle. Bob alone was calm. 

"Now, " cried Tress, "you'll see the devil moving. "

Bob took the pipe from between his lips. 

"See what?" he said. 

"Bob, you rascal, put that pipe back into your mouth, and smoke it foryour life!"

Bob was eying the pipe askance. 

"I dare say, but what I want to know is whether this here varmint's deador whether he isn't. I don't want to have him flying at my nose--and helooks vicious enough for anything. "

"Give me back that pound, you thief, and get out of my house, and bundle. "

"I ain't going to give you back no pound. "

"Then smoke that pipe!"

"I am smoking it, ain't I?"

With the utmost deliberation Bob returned the pipe to his mouth. Heemitted another whiff or two of smoke. 

"Now--now!" cried Tress, all excitement, and wagging his hand in the air. 

We gathered round. As we did so Bob again withdrew the pipe. 

"What is the meaning of all this here? I ain't going to have you playingnone of your larks on me. I know there's something up, but I ain't goingto throw my life away for twenty shillings--not quite I ain't. "

Tress, whose temper is not at any time one of the best, was seized withquite a spasm of rage. 

"As I live, my lad, if you try to cheat me by taking that pipe frombetween your lips until I tell you, you leave this room that instant, never again to be a servant of mine. "

I presume the fellow knew from long experience when his master meant whathe said, and when he didn't. Without an attempt at remonstrance hereplaced the pipe. He continued stolidly to puff away. Tress caught me bythe arm. 

"What did I tell you? There--there! That tentacle is moving. "

The uplifted tentacle _was_ moving. It was doing what I had seen it do, asI supposed, in my distorted imagination--it was reaching forward. Undoubtedly Bob saw what it was doing; but, whether in obedience to hismaster's commands, or whether because the drug was already beginning totake effect, he made no movement to withdraw the pipe. He watched theslowly advancing tentacle, coming closer and closer toward his nose, withan expression of such intense horror on his countenance that it becamequite shocking. Farther and farther the creature reached forward, until ona sudden, with a sort of jerk, the movement assumed a downward direction, and the tentacle was slowly lowered until the tip rested on the stem ofthe pipe. For a moment the creature remained motionless. I was quieting mynerves with the reflection that this thing was but some trick of thecarver's art, and that what we had seen we had seen in a sort ofnightmare, when the whole hideous reptile was seized with what seemed tobe a fit of convulsive shuddering. It seemed to be in agony. It trembledso violently that I expected to see it loosen its hold of the stem andfall to the ground. I was sufficiently master of myself to steal a glanceat Bob. We had had an inkling of what might happen. He was whollyunprepared. As he saw that dreadful, human-looking creature, coming tolife, as it seemed, within an inch or two of his nose, his eyes dilated totwice their usual size. I hoped, for his sake, that unconsciousness wouldsupervene, through the action of the drug, before through sheer frighthis senses left him. Perhaps mechanically he puffed steadily on. 

The creature's shuddering became more violent. It appeared to swell beforeour eyes. Then, just as suddenly as it began, the shuddering ceased. Therewas another instant of quiescence. Then the creature began to crawl alongthe stem of the pipe! It moved with marvelous caution, the merest fractionof an inch at a time. But still it moved! Our eyes were riveted on it witha fascination which was absolutely nauseous. I am unpleasantly affectedeven as I think of it now. My dreams of the night before had been nothingto this. 

Slowly, slowly, it went, nearer and nearer to the smoker's nose. Its modeof progression was in the highest degree unsightly. It glided, never, sofar as I could see, removing its tentacles from the stem of the pipe. Itslipped its hindmost feelers onward until they came up to those which werein advance. Then, in their turn, it advanced those which were in front. Itseemed, too, to move with the utmost labor, shuddering as though it werein pain. 

We were all, for our parts, speechless. I was momentarily hoping that thedrug would take effect on Bob. Either his constitution enabled him tooffer a strong resistance to narcotics, or else the large quantity of neatspirit which he had drunk acted--as Tress had malevolently intended thatit should--as an antidote. It seemed to me that he would _never_ succumb. On went the creature--on, and on, in its infinitesimal progression. I wasspellbound. I would have given the world to scream, to have been able toutter a sound. I could do nothing else but watch. 

The creature had reached the end of the stem. It had gained the ambermouthpiece. It was within an inch of the smoker's nose. Still on it went. It seemed to move with greater freedom on the amber. It increased its rateof progress. It was actually touching the foremost feature on the smoker'scountenance. I expected to see it grip the wretched Bob, when it began tooscillate from side to side. Its oscillations increased in violence. Itfell to the floor. That same instant the narcotic prevailed. Bob slippedsideways from the chair, the pipe still held tightly between his rigidjaws. 

We were silent. There lay Bob. Close beside him lay the creature. A fewmore inches to the left, and he would have fallen on and squashed it flat. It had fallen on its back. Its feelers were extended upward. They werewrithing and twisting and turning in the air. 

Tress was the first to speak. 

"I think a little brandy won't be amiss. " Emptying the remainder of thebrandy into a glass, he swallowed it at a draught. "Now for a closerexamination of our friend. " Taking a pair of tongs from the grate henipped the creature between them. He deposited it upon the table. "Irather fancy that this is a case for dissection. "

He took a penknife from his waistcoat pocket. Opening the large blade, hethrust its point into the object on the table. Little or no resistanceseemed to be offered to the passage of the blade, but as it was insertedthe tentacula simultaneously began to writhe and twist. Tress withdrew theknife. 

"I thought so!" He held the blade out for our inspection. The point wascovered with some viscid-looking matter. "That's blood! The thing'salive!"

"Alive!"

"Alive! That's the secret of the whole performance!"

"But--"

"But me no buts, my Pugh! The mystery's exploded! One more ghost is lostto the world! The person from whom I _obtained_ that pipe was an Indianjuggler--up to many tricks of the trade. He, or some one for him, got holdof this sweet thing in reptiles--and a sweeter thing would, I imagine, behard to find--and covered it with some preparation of, possibly, gumarabic. He allowed this to harden. Then he stuck the thing--still living, for those sort of gentry are hard to kill--to the pipe. The consequencewas that when anyone lit up, the warmth was communicated to the adhesiveagent--again some preparation of gum, no doubt--it moistened it, and thecreature, with infinite difficulty, was able to move. But I am open to layodds with any gentleman of sporting tastes that _this_ time the creature'straveling days _are_ done. It has given me rather a larger taste of thehorrors than is good for my digestion. "

With the aid of the tongs he removed the creature from the table. Heplaced it on the hearth. Before Brasher or I had a notion of what it washe intended to do he covered it with a heavy marble paper weight. Then hestood upon the weight, and between the marble and the hearth he ground thecreature flat. 

While the execution was still proceeding, Bob sat up upon the floor. 

"Hollo!" he asked, "what's happened?"

"We've emptied the bottle, Bob, " said Tress. "But there's another wherethat came from. Perhaps you could drink another tumblerful, my boy?"

Bob drank it!

FOOTNOTE

 "Those gentry are hard to kill. " Here is fact, not fantasy. Lizard yarns no less sensational than this Mystery Story can be found between the covers of solemn, zoological textbooks. 

 Reptiles, indeed, are far from finicky in the matters of air, space, and especially warmth. Frogs and other such sluggish-blooded creatures have lived after being frozen fast in ice. Their blood is little warmer than air or water, enjoying no extra casing of fur or feathers. 

 Air and food seem held in light esteem by lizards. Their blood need not be highly oxygenated; it nourishes just as well when impure. In temperate climes lizards lie torpid and buried all winter; some species of the tropic deserts sleep peacefully all summer. Their anatomy includes no means for the continuous introduction and expulsion of air; reptilian lungs are little more than closed sacs, without cell structure. 

 If any further zoological fact were needed to verify the dénouement of "The Pipe, " it might be the general statement that lizards are abnormal brutes anyhow. Consider the chameleons of unsettled hue. And what is one to think of an animal which, when captured by the tail, is able to make its escape by willfully shuffling off that appendage?--EDITOR. 

The Puzzle

I

Pugh came into my room holding something wrapped in a piece of brownpaper. 

"Tress, I have brought you something on which you may exercise youringenuity. " He began, with exasperating deliberation, to untie the stringwhich bound his parcel; he is one of those persons who would not cut aknot to save their lives. The process occupied him the better part of aquarter of an hour. Then he held out the contents of the paper. 

"What do you think of that?" he asked. I thought nothing of it, and I toldhim so. "I was prepared for that confession. I have noticed, Tress, thatyou generally do think nothing of an article which really deserves theattention of a truly thoughtful mind. Possibly, as you think so little ofit, you will be able to solve the puzzle. "

I took what he held out to me. It was an oblong box, perhaps seven incheslong by three inches broad. 

"Where's the puzzle?" I asked. 

"If you will examine the lid of the box, you will see. "

I turned it over and over; it was difficult to see which was the lid. ThenI perceived that on one side were printed these words:

 "PUZZLE: TO OPEN THE BOX"

The words were so faintly printed that it was not surprising that I hadnot noticed them at first. Pugh explained. 

"I observed that box on a tray outside a second-hand furniture shop. Itstruck my eye. I took it up. I examined it. I inquired of the proprietorof the shop in what the puzzle lay. He replied that that was more than hecould tell me. He himself had made several attempts to open the box, andall of them had failed. I purchased it. I took it home. I have tried, andI have failed. I am aware, Tress, of how you pride yourself upon youringenuity. I cannot doubt that, if you try, you will not fail. "

While Pugh was prosing, I was examining the box. It was at least wellmade. It weighed certainly under two ounces. I struck it with my knuckles;it sounded hollow. There was no hinge; nothing of any kind to show that itever had been opened, or, for the matter of that, that it ever could beopened. The more I examined the thing, the more it whetted my curiosity. That it could be opened, and in some ingenious manner, I made nodoubt--but how?

The box was not a new one. At a rough guess I should say that it had beena box for a good half century; there were certain signs of age about itwhich could not escape a practiced eye. Had it remained unopened all thattime? When opened, what would be found inside? It _sounded_ hollow;probably nothing at all--who could tell?

It was formed of small pieces of inlaid wood. Several woods had been used;some of them were strange to me. They were of different colors; it waspretty obvious that they must all of them have been hard woods. The pieceswere of various shapes--hexagonal, octagonal, triangular, square, oblong, and even circular. The process of inlaying them had been beautifully done. So nicely had the parts been joined that the lines of meeting weredifficult to discover with the naked eye; they had been joined solid, soto speak. It was an excellent example of marquetry. I had been over-hastyin my deprecation; I owed as much to Pugh. 

"This box of yours is better worth looking at than I first supposed. Is itto be sold?"

"No, it is not to be sold. Nor"--he "fixed" me with his spectacles--"is itto be given away. I have brought it to you for the simple purpose ofascertaining if you have ingenuity enough to open it. "

"I will engage to open it in two seconds--with a hammer. "

"I dare say. _I_ will open it with a hammer. The thing is to open itwithout. "

"Let me see. " I began, with the aid of a microscope, to examine the boxmore closely. "I will give you one piece of information, Pugh. Unless I ammistaken, the secret lies in one of these little pieces of inlaid wood. You push it, or you press it, or something, and the whole affair fliesopen. "

"Such was my own first conviction. I am not so sure of it now. I havepressed every separate piece of wood; I have tried to move each piece inevery direction. No result has followed. My theory was a hidden spring. "

"But there must be a hidden spring of some sort, unless you are to open itby a mere exercise of force. I suppose the box is empty. "

"I thought it was at first, but now I am not so sure of that either. Itall depends on the position in which you hold it. Hold it in thisposition--like this--close to your ear. Have you a small hammer?" I took asmall hammer. "Tap it softly, with the hammer. Don't you notice a sort ofreverberation within?"

Pugh was right, there certainly was something within; something whichseemed to echo back my tapping, almost as if it were a living thing. Imentioned this to Pugh. 

"But you don't think that there is something alive inside the box? Therecan't be. The box must be air-tight, probably as much air-tight as anexhausted receiver. "

"How do we know that? How can we tell that no minute interstices have beenleft for the express purpose of ventilation?" I continued tapping with thehammer. I noticed one peculiarity, that it was only when I held the box ina particular position, and tapped at a certain spot, there came theanswering taps from within. "I tell you what it is, Pugh, what I hear isthe reverberation of some machinery. "

"Do you think so?"

"I'm sure of it. "

"Give the box to me. " Pugh put the box to his ear. He tapped. "It soundsto me like the echoing tick, tick of some great beetle; like the sort ofnoise which a deathwatch makes, you know. "

Trust Pugh to find a remarkable explanation for a simple fact; if theexplanation leans toward the supernatural, so much the more satisfactoryto Pugh. I knew better. 

"The sound which you hear is merely the throbbing or the trembling of themechanism with which it is intended that the box should be opened. Themechanism is placed just where you are tapping it with the hammer. Everytap causes it to jar. "

"It sounds to me like the ticking of a deathwatch. However, on suchsubjects, Tress, I know what you are. "

"My dear Pugh, give it an extra hard tap, and you will see. "

He gave it an extra hard tap. The moment he had done so, he started. 

"I've done it now. "

"What have you done?"

"Broken something, I fancy. " He listened intently, with his ear to thebox. "No--it seems all right. And yet I could have sworn I had damagedsomething; I heard it smash. "

"Give me the box. " He gave it me. In my turn, I listened. I shook the box. Pugh must have been mistaken. Nothing rattled; there was not a sound; thebox was as empty as before. I gave a smart tap with the hammer, as Pughhad done. Then there certainly was a curious sound. To my ear, it soundedlike the smashing of glass. "I wonder if there is anything fragile insideyour precious puzzle, Pugh, and, if so, if we are shivering it bydegrees?"

II

"What _is_ that noise?"

I lay in bed in that curious condition which is between sleep and waking. When, at last, I _knew_ that I was awake, I asked myself what it was thathad woke me. Suddenly I became conscious that something was making itselfaudible in the silence of the night. For some seconds I lay and listened. Then I sat up in bed. 

"What _is_ that noise?"

It was like the tick, tick of some large and unusually clear-toned clock. It might have been a clock, had it not been that the sound was varied, every half dozen ticks or so, by a sort of stifled screech, such as mighthave been uttered by some small creature in an extremity of anguish. I gotout of bed; it was ridiculous to think of sleep during the continuation ofthat uncanny shrieking. I struck a light. The sound seemed to come fromthe neighborhood of my dressing-table. I went to the dressing-table, thelighted match in my hand, and, as I did so, my eyes fell on Pugh'smysterious box. That same instant there issued, from the bowels of thebox, a more uncomfortable screech than any I had previously heard. It tookme so completely by surprise that I let the match fall from my hand to thefloor. The room was in darkness. I stood, I will not say trembling, listening--considering their volume--to the _eeriest_ shrieks I everheard. All at once they ceased. Then came the tick, tick, tick again. Istruck another match and lit the gas. 

Pugh had left his puzzle box behind him. We had done all we could, together, to solve the puzzle. He had left it behind to see what I coulddo with it alone. So much had it engrossed my attention that I had evenbrought it into my bedroom, in order that I might, before retiring torest, make a final attempt at the solution of the mystery. _Now_ whatpossessed the thing?

As I stood, and looked, and listened, one thing began to be clear to me, that some sort of machinery had been set in motion inside the box. How ithad been set in motion was another matter. But the box had been subjectedto so much handling, to such pressing and such hammering, that it was notstrange if, after all, Pugh or I had unconsciously hit upon the springwhich set the whole thing going. Possibly the mechanism had got so rustythat it had refused to act at once. It had hung fire, and only after somehours had something or other set the imprisoned motive power free. 

But what about the screeching? Could there be some living creatureconcealed within the box? Was I listening to the cries of some smallanimal in agony? Momentary reflection suggested that the explanation ofthe one thing was the explanation of the other. Rust!--there was themystery. The same rust which had prevented the mechanism from acting atonce was causing the screeching now. The uncanny sounds were caused bynothing more nor less than the want of a drop or two of oil. Such anexplanation would not have satisfied Pugh, it satisfied me. 

Picking up the box, I placed it to my ear. 

"I wonder how long this little performance is going to continue. And whatis going to happen when it is good enough to cease? I hope"--anuncomfortable thought occurred to me--"I hope Pugh hasn't picked up somepleasant little novelty in the way of an infernal machine. It would be afirst-rate joke if he and I had been endeavoring to solve the puzzle ofhow to set it going. "

I don't mind owning that as this reflection crossed my mind I replacedPugh's puzzle on the dressing-table. The idea did not commend itself to meat all. The box evidently contained some curious mechanism. It might bemore curious than comfortable. Possibly some agreeable little device inclockwork. The tick, tick, tick suggested clockwork which had been plannedto go a certain time, and then--then, for all I knew, ignite an explosive, and--blow up. It would be a charming solution to the puzzle if it were toexplode while I stood there, in my nightshirt, looking on. It is true thatthe box weighed very little. Probably, as I have said, the whole affairwould not have turned the scale at a couple of ounces. But then its verylightness might have been part of the ingenious inventor's little game. There are explosives with which one can work a very satisfactory amount ofdamage with considerably less than a couple of ounces. 

While I was hesitating--I own it!--whether I had not better immerse Pugh'spuzzle in a can of water, or throw it out of the window, or call down Bobwith a request to at once remove it to his apartment, both the tick, tick, tick, and the screeching ceased, and all within the box was still. If it_was_ going to explode, it was now or never. Instinctively I moved in thedirection of the door. 

I waited with a certain sense of anxiety. I waited in vain. Nothinghappened, not even a renewal of the sound. 

"I wish Pugh had kept his precious puzzle at home. This sort of thingtries one's nerves. "

When I thought that I perceived that nothing seemed likely to happen, Ireturned to the neighborhood of the table. I looked at the box askance. Itook it up gingerly. Something might go off at any moment for all I knew. It would be too much of a joke if Pugh's precious puzzle exploded in myhand. I shook it doubtfully; nothing rattled. I held it to my ear. Therewas not a sound. What had taken place? Had the clockwork run down, and wasthe machine arranged with such a diabolical ingenuity that a certain, interval was required, after the clockwork had run down, before anexplosion could occur? Or had rust caused the mechanism to again hangfire?

"After making all that commotion the thing might at least come open. " Ibanged the box viciously against the corner of the table. I felt that Iwould almost rather that an explosion should take place than that nothingshould occur. One does not care to be disturbed from one's sound slumberin the small hours of the morning for a trifle. 

"I've half a mind to get a hammer, and try, as they say in the cookerybooks, another way. "

Unfortunately I had promised Pugh to abstain from using force. I mighthave shivered the box open with my hammer, and then explained that it hadfallen, or got trod upon, or sat upon, or something, and so got shattered, only I was afraid that Pugh would not believe me. The man is himself suchan untruthful man that he is in a chronic state of suspicion about thetruthfulness of others. 

"Well, if you're not going to blow up, or open, or something, I'll saygood night. "

I gave the box a final rap with my knuckles and a final shake, replaced iton the table, put out the gas, and returned to bed. 

I was just sinking again into slumber, when that box began again. It wastrue that Pugh had purchased the puzzle, but it was evident that the wholeenjoyment of the purchase was destined to be mine. It was useless to thinkof sleep while that performance was going on. I sat up in bed once more. 

"It strikes me that the puzzle consists in finding out how it is possibleto go to sleep with Pugh's purchase in your bedroom. This is far betterthan the old-fashioned prescription of cats on the tiles. "

It struck me the noise was distinctly louder than before; this appliedboth to the tick, tick, tick, and the screeching. 

"Possibly, " I told myself, as I relighted the gas, "the explosion is tocome off this time. "

I turned to look at the box. There could be no doubt about it; the noisewas louder. And, if I could trust my eyes, the box was moving--giving aseries of little jumps. This might have been an optical delusion, but itseemed to me that at each tick the box gave a little bound. During thescreeches--which sounded more like the cries of an animal in an agony ofpain even than before--if it did not tilt itself first on one end, andthen on another, I shall never be willing to trust the evidence of my owneyes again. And surely the box had increased in size; I could have swornnot only that it had increased, but that it was increasing, even as Istood there looking on. It had grown, and still was growing, both broader, and longer, and deeper. Pugh, of course, would have attributed it tosupernatural agency; there never was a man with such a nose for a ghost. Icould picture him occupying my position, shivering in his nightshirt, ashe beheld that miracle taking place before his eyes. The solution which atonce suggested itself to me--and which would _never_ have suggested itselfto Pugh!--was that the box was fashioned, as it were, in layers, and thatthe ingenious mechanism it contained was forcing the sides at once bothupward and outward. I took it in my hand. I could feel something strikingagainst the bottom of the box, like the tap, tap, tapping of a tinyhammer. 

"This is a pretty puzzle of Pugh's. He would say that that is the tappingof a deathwatch. For my part I have not much faith in deathwatches, _ethoc genus omne_, but it certainly is a curious tapping; I wonder what isgoing to happen next?"

Apparently nothing, except a continuation of those mysterious sounds. Thatthe box had increased in size I had, and have, no doubt whatever. I shouldsay that it had increased a good inch in every direction, at least half aninch while I had been looking on. But while I stood looking its growth wassuddenly and perceptibly stayed; it ceased to move. Only the noisecontinued. 

"I wonder how long it will be before anything worth happening does happen!I suppose something is going to happen; there can't be all this to-do fornothing. If it is anything in the infernal machine line, and there isgoing to be an explosion, I might as well be here to see it. I think I'llhave a pipe. "

I put on my dressing-gown. I lit my pipe. I sat and stared at the box. Idare say I sat there for quite twenty minutes when, as before, without anysort of warning, the sound was stilled. Its sudden cessation ratherstartled me. 

"Has the mechanism again hung fire? Or, this time, is the explosioncoming off?" It did not come off; nothing came off. "Isn't the box evengoing to open?"

It did not open. There was simply silence all at once, and that was all. Isat there in expectation for some moments longer. But I sat for nothing. Irose. I took the box in my hand. I shook it. 

"This puzzle _is_ a puzzle. " I held the box first to one ear, then to theother. I gave it several sharp raps with my knuckles. There was not ananswering sound, not even the sort of reverberation which Pugh and I hadnoticed at first. It seemed hollower than ever. It was as though the soulof the box was dead. "I suppose if I put you down, and extinguish the gasand return to bed, in about half an hour or so, just as I am dropping offto sleep, the performance will be recommenced. Perhaps the third time willbe lucky. "

But I was mistaken--there was no third time. When I returned to bed thattime I returned to sleep, and I was allowed to sleep; there was nocontinuation of the performance, at least so far as I know. For no soonerwas I once more between the sheets than I was seized with an irresistibledrowsiness, a drowsiness which so mastered me that I--I imagine it musthave been instantly--sank into slumber which lasted till long after dayhad dawned. Whether or not any more mysterious sounds issued from thebowels of Pugh's puzzle is more than I can tell. If they did, they did notsucceed in rousing me. 

And yet, when at last I did awake, I had a sort of consciousness that mywaking had been caused by something strange. What it was I could notsurmise. My own impression was that I had been awakened by the touch of aperson's hand. But that impression must have been a mistaken one, because, as I could easily see by looking round the room, there was no one in theroom to touch me. 

It was broad daylight. I looked at my watch; it was nearly eleven o'clock. I am a pretty late sleeper as a rule, but I do not usually sleep as lateas that. That scoundrel Bob would let me sleep all day without thinking itnecessary to call me. I was just about to spring out of bed with theintention of ringing the bell so that I might give Bob a piece of my mindfor allowing me to sleep so late, when my glance fell on thedressing-table on which, the night before, I had placed Pugh's puzzle. Ithad gone!

Its absence so took me by surprise that I ran to the table. It _had_ gone. But it had not gone far; it had gone to pieces! There were the pieceslying where the box had been. The puzzle had solved itself. The box wasopen, open with a vengeance, one might say. Like that unfortunate HumptyDumpty, who, so the chroniclers tell us, sat on a wall, surely "all theking's horses and all the king's men" never could put Pugh's puzzletogether again!

The marquetry had resolved itself into its component parts. How thoseparts had ever been joined was a mystery. They had been laid upon nofoundation, as is the case with ordinary inlaid work. The several piecesof wood were not only of different shapes and sizes, but they were as thinas the thinnest veneer; yet the box had been formed by simply joining themtogether. The man who made that box must have been possessed of ingenuityworthy of a better cause. 

I perceived how the puzzle had been worked. The box had contained anarrangement of springs, which, on being released, had expanded themselvesin different directions until their mere expansion had rent the box topieces. There were the springs, lying amid the ruin they had caused. 

There was something else amid that ruin besides those springs; there was asmall piece of writing paper. I took it up. On the reverse side of it waswritten in a minute, crabbed hand: "A Present For You. " What was a presentfor me? I looked, and, not for the first time since I had caught sight ofPugh's precious puzzle, could scarcely believe my eyes. 

There, poised between two upright wires, the bent ends of which held italoft in the air, was either a piece of glass or--a crystal. The scrap ofwriting paper had exactly covered it. I understood what it was, when Pughand I had tapped with the hammer, had caused the answering taps to proceedfrom within. Our taps caused the wires to oscillate, and in theseoscillations the crystal, which they held suspended, had touched the sideof the box. 

I looked again at the piece of paper. "A Present For You. " Was _this_ thepresent--this crystal? I regarded it intently. 

"It _can't_ be a diamond. "

The idea was ridiculous, absurd. No man in his senses would place adiamond inside a twopenny-halfpenny puzzle box. The thing was as big as awalnut! And yet--I am a pretty good judge of precious stones--if it wasnot an uncut diamond it was the best imitation I had seen. I took it up. Iexamined it closely. The more closely I examined it, the more my wondergrew. 

"It _is_ a diamond!"

And yet the idea was too preposterous for credence. Who would present adiamond as big as a walnut with a trumpery puzzle? Besides, all thediamonds which the world contains of that size are almost as well known asthe Koh-i-noor. 

"If it is a diamond, it is worth--it is worth--Heaven only knows what itisn't worth if it's a diamond. "

I regarded it through a strong pocket lens. As I did so I could notrestrain an exclamation. 

"The world to a China orange, it _is_ a diamond!"

The words had scarcely escaped my lips than there came a tapping at thedoor. 

"Come in!" I cried, supposing it was Bob. It was not Bob, it was Pugh. Instinctively I put the lens and the crystal behind my back. At sight ofme in my nightshirt Pugh began to shake his head. 

"What hours, Tress, what hours! Why, my dear Tress, I've breakfasted, readthe papers and my letters, came all the way from my house here, and you'renot up!"

"Don't I look as though I were up?"

"Ah, Tress! Tress!" He approached the dressing-table. His eye fell uponthe ruins. "What's this?"

"That's the solution to the puzzle. "

"Have you--have you solved it fairly, Tress?"

"It has solved itself. Our handling, and tapping, and hammering must havefreed the springs which the box contained, and during the night, while Islept, they have caused it to come open. "

"While you slept? Dear me! How strange! And--what are these?"

He had discovered the two upright wires on which the crystal had beenpoised. 

"I suppose they're part of the puzzle. "

"And was there anything in the box? What's this?" He picked up the scrapof paper; I had left it on the table. He read what was written on it: "'APresent For You. ' What's it mean? Tress, was this in the box?"

"It was. "

"What's it mean about a present? Was there anything in the box besides?"

"Pugh, if you will leave the room I shall be able to dress; I am not inthe habit of receiving quite such early calls, or I should have beenprepared to receive you. If you will wait in the next room, I will be withyou as soon as I'm dressed. There is a little subject in connection withthe box which I wish to discuss with you. "

"A subject in connection with the box? What is the subject?"

"I will tell you, Pugh, when I have performed my toilet. "

"Why can't you tell me now?"

"Do you propose, then, that I should stand here shivering in my shirtwhile you are prosing at your ease? Thank you; I am obliged, but Idecline. May I ask you once more, Pugh, to wait for me in the adjoiningapartment?"

He moved toward the door. When he had taken a couple of steps, he halted. 

"I--I hope, Tress, that you're--you're going to play no tricks on me?"

"Tricks on you! Is it likely that I am going to play tricks upon my oldestfriend?"

When he had gone--he vanished, it seemed to me, with a somewhat doubtfulvisage--I took the crystal to the window. I drew the blind. I let thesunshine fall on it. I examined it again, closely and minutely, with theaid of my pocket lens. It _was_ a diamond; there could not be a doubt ofit. If, with my knowledge of stones, I was deceived, then I was deceivedas never man had been deceived before. My heart beat faster as Irecognized the fact that I was holding in my hand what was, in allprobability, a fortune for a man of moderate desires. Of course, Pugh knewnothing of what I had discovered, and there was no reason why he shouldknow. Not the least! The only difficulty was that if I kept my owncounsel, and sold the stone and utilized the proceeds of the sale, Ishould have to invent a story which would account for my sudden accessionto fortune. Pugh knows almost as much of my affairs as I do myself. Thatis the worst of these old friends!

When I joined Pugh I found him dancing up and down the floor like a bearupon hot plates. He scarcely allowed me to put my nose inside the doorbefore attacking me. 

"Tress, give me what was in the box. "

"My dear Pugh, how do you know that there was something in the box to giveyou?"

"I know there was!"

"Indeed! If you know that there was something in the box, perhaps you willtell me what that something was. "

He eyed me doubtfully. Then, advancing, he laid upon my arm a hand whichpositively trembled. 

"Tress, you--you wouldn't play tricks on an old friend. "

"You are right, Pugh, I wouldn't, though I believe there have beenoccasions on which you have had doubts upon the subject. By the way, Pugh, I believe that I am the oldest friend you have. "

"I--I don't know about that. There's--there's Brasher. "

"Brasher! Who's Brasher? You wouldn't compare my friendship to thefriendship of such a man as Brasher? Think of the tastes we have incommon, you and I. We're both collectors. "

"Ye-es, we're both collectors. "

"I make my interests yours, and you make your interests mine. Isn't thatso, Pugh?"

"Tress, what--what was in the box?"

"I will be frank with you, Pugh. If there had been something in the box, would you have been willing to go halves with me in my discovery?"

"Go halves! In your discovery, Tress! Give me what is mine!"

"With pleasure, Pugh, if you will tell me what is yours. "

"If--if you don't give me what was in the box I'll--I'll send for thepolice. "

"Do! Then I shall be able to hand to them what was in the box in orderthat it may be restored to its proper owner. "

"Its proper owner! I'm its proper owner!"

"Excuse me, but I don't understand how that can be; at least, until thepolice have made inquiries. I should say that the proper owner was theperson from whom you purchased the box, or, more probably, the person fromwhom he purchased it, and by whom, doubtless, it was sold in ignorance, orby mistake. Thus, Pugh, if you will only send for the police, we shallearn the gratitude of a person of whom we never heard in our lives--I fordiscovering the contents of the box, and you for returning them. "

As I said this, Pugh's face was a study. He gasped for breath. He actuallytook out his handkerchief to wipe his brow. 

"Tress, I--I don't think you need to use a tone like that to me. It isn'tfriendly. What--what was in the box?"

"Let us understand each other, Pugh. If you don't hand over what was inthe box to the police, I go halves. "

Pugh began to dance about the floor. 

"What a fool I was to trust you with the box! I knew I couldn't trustyou. " I said nothing. I turned and rang the bell. "What's that for?"

"That, my dear Pugh, is for breakfast, and, if you desire it, for thepolice. You know, although you have breakfasted, I haven't. Perhaps whileI am breaking my fast, you would like to summon the representatives of lawand order. " Bob came in. I ordered breakfast. Then I turned to Pugh. "Isthere anything you would like?"

"No, I--I've breakfasted. "

"It wasn't of breakfast I was thinking. It was of--something else. Bob isat your service, if, for instance, you wish to send him on an errand. "

"No, I want nothing. Bob can go. " Bob went. Directly he was gone, Pughturned to me. "You shall have half. What was in the box?"

"I shall have half?"

"You shall!"

"I don't think it is necessary that the terms of our little understandingshould be expressly embodied in black and white. I fancy that, under thecircumstance, I can trust you, Pugh. I believe that I am capable of seeingthat, in this matter, you don't do me. That was in the box. "

I held out the crystal between my finger and thumb. 

"What is it?"

"That is what I desire to learn. "

"Let me look at it. "

"You are welcome to look at it where it is. Look at it as long as youlike, and as closely. "

Pugh leaned over my hand. His eyes began to gleam. He is himself not a badjudge of precious stones, is Pugh. 

"It's--it's--Tress!--is it a diamond?"

"That question I have already asked myself. "

"Let me look at it! It will be safe with me! It's mine!"

I immediately put the thing behind my back. 

"Pardon me, it belongs neither to you nor to me. It belongs, in allprobability, to the person who sold that puzzle to the man from whom youbought it--perhaps some weeping widow, Pugh, or hopeless orphan--think ofit. Let us have no further misunderstanding upon that point, my dear oldfriend. Still, because you are my dear old friend, I am willing to trustyou with this discovery of mine, on condition that you don't attempt toremove it from my sight, and that you return it to me the moment I requireyou. "

"You're--you're very hard on me. " I made a movement toward my waistcoatpocket. "I'll return it to you!"

I handed him the crystal, and with it I handed him my pocket lens. 

"With the aid of that glass I imagine that you will be able to subject itto a more acute examination, Pugh. "

He began to examine it through the lens. Directly he did so, he gave anexclamation. In a few moments he looked up at me. His eyes were glisteningbehind his spectacles. I could see he trembled. 

"Tress, it's--it's a diamond, a Brazil diamond. It's worth a fortune!"

"I'm glad you think so. "

"Glad I think so! Don't you think that it's a diamond?"

"It appears to be a diamond. Under ordinary conditions I should say, without hesitation, that it was a diamond. But when I consider thecircumstances of its discovery, I am driven to doubts. How much did yougive for that puzzle, Pugh?"

"Ninepence; the fellow wanted a shilling, but I gave him ninepence. Heseemed content. "

"Ninepence! Does it seem reasonable that we should find a diamond, which, if it is a diamond, is the finest stone I ever saw and handled, in aninepenny puzzle? It is not as though it had got into the thing byaccident, it had evidently been placed there to be found, and, apparently, by anyone who chanced to solve the puzzle; witness the writing on thescrap of paper. "

Pugh reexamined the crystal. 

"It is a diamond! I'll stake my life that it's a diamond!"

"Still, though it be a diamond, I smell a rat!"

"What do you mean?"

"I strongly suspect that the person who placed that diamond inside thatpuzzle intended to have a joke at the expense of the person who discoveredit. What was to be the nature of the joke is more than I can say atpresent, but I should like to have a bet with you that the man whocompounded that puzzle was an ingenious practical joker. I may be wrong, Pugh; we shall see. But, until I have proved the contrary, I don't believethat the maddest man that ever lived would throw away a diamond worth, apparently, shall we say a thousand pounds?"

"A thousand pounds! This diamond is worth a good deal more than a thousandpounds. "

"Well, that only makes my case the stronger; I don't believe that themaddest man that ever lived would throw away a diamond worth more than athousand pounds with such utter wantonness as seems to have characterizedthe action of the original owner of the stone which I found in yourninepenny puzzle, Pugh. "

"There have been some eccentric characters in the world, some veryeccentric characters. However, as you say, we shall see. I fancy that Iknow somebody who would be quite willing to have such a diamond as this, and who, moreover, would be willing to pay a fair price for itspossession; I will take it to him and see what he says. "

"Pugh, hand me back that diamond. "

"My dear Tress, I was only going--"

Bob came in with the breakfast tray. 

"Pugh, you will either hand me that at once, or Bob shall summon therepresentatives of law and order. "

He handed me the diamond. I sat down to breakfast with a hearty appetite. Pugh stood and scowled at me. 

"Joseph Tress, it is my solemn conviction, and I have no hesitation insaying so in plain English, that you're a thief. "

"My dear Pugh, it seems to me that we show every promise of becoming acouple of thieves. "

"Don't bracket me with you!"

"Not at all, you are worse than I. It is you who decline to return thecontents of the box to its proper owner. Put it to yourself, you have_some_ common sense, my dear old friend!--do you suppose that a diamondworth more than a thousand pounds is to be _honestly_ bought forninepence?"

He resumed his old trick of dancing about the room. 

"I was a fool ever to let you have the box! I ought to have known betterthan to have trusted you; goodness knows you have given me sufficientcause to mistrust you! Over and over again! Your character is only toonotorious! You have plundered friend and foe alike--friend and foe alike!As for the rubbish which you call your collection, nine tenths of it, Iknow as a positive fact, you have stolen out and out. "

"Who stole my Sir Walter Raleigh pipe? Wasn't it a man named Pugh?"

"Look here, Joseph Tress!"

"I'm looking. "

"Oh, it's no good talking to you, not the least! You're--you're dead toall the promptings of conscience! May I inquire, Mr. Tress, what it is youpropose to do?"

"I _propose_ to do nothing, except summon the representatives of law andorder. Failing that, my dear Pugh, I had some faint, vague, very vagueidea of taking the contents of your ninepenny puzzle to a certain firm inHatton Garden, who are dealers in precious stones, and to learn from themif they are disposed to give anything for it, and if so, what. "

"I shall come with you. "

"With pleasure, on condition that you pay the cab. "

"I pay the cab! I will pay half. "

"Not at all. You will either pay the whole fare, or else I will have onecab and you shall have another. It is a three-shilling cab fare from hereto Hatton Garden. If you propose to share my cab, you will be so good asto hand over that three shillings before we start. "

He gasped, but he handed over the three shillings. There are few things Ienjoy so much as getting money out of Pugh!

On the road to Hatton Garden we wrangled nearly all the way. I own that Ifeel a certain satisfaction in irritating Pugh, he is such an irritableman. He wanted to know what I thought we should get for the diamond. 

"You can't expect to get much for the contents of a ninepenny puzzle, noteven the price of a cab fare, Pugh. "

He eyed me, but for some minutes he was silent. Then he began again. 

"Tress, I don't think we ought to let it go for less than--than fivethousand pounds. "

"Seriously, Pugh, I doubt whether, when the whole affair is ended, weshall get five thousand pence for it, or, for the matter of that, fivethousand farthings. "

"But why not? Why not? It's a magnificent stone--magnificent! I'll stakemy life on it. "

I tapped my breast with the tips of my fingers. 

"There's a warning voice within my breast that ought to be in yours, Pugh!Something tells me, perhaps it is the unusually strong vein of commonsense which I possess, that the contents of your ninepenny puzzle will befound to be a magnificent do--an ingenious practical joke, my friend. "

"I don't believe it. "

But I think he did; at any rate, I had unsettled the foundations of hisfaith. 

We entered the Hatton Garden office side by side; in his anxiety not tolet me get before him, Pugh actually clung to my arm. The office wasdivided into two parts by a counter which ran from wall to wall. Iadvanced to a man who stood on the other side of this counter. 

"I want to sell you a diamond. "

"_We_ want to sell you a diamond, " interpolated Pugh. 

I turned to Pugh. I "fixed" him with my glance. 

"_I_ want to sell you a diamond. Here it is. What will you give me forit?"

Taking the crystal from my waistcoat pocket I handed it to the man on theother side of the counter. Directly, he got it between his fingers, andsaw that it was that he had got, I noticed a sudden gleam come into hiseyes. 

"This is--this is rather a fine stone. "

Pugh nudged my arm. 

"I told you so. " I paid no attention to Pugh. "What will you give me forit?"

"Do you mean, what will I give you for it cash down upon the nail?"

"Just so--what will you give me for it cash down upon the nail?"

The man turned the crystal over and over in his fingers. 

"Well, that's rather a large order. We don't often get a chance of buyingsuch a stone as this across the counter. What do you say to--well--to tenthousand pounds?"

Ten thousand pounds! It was beyond my wildest imaginings. Pugh gasped. Helurched against the counter. 

"Ten thousand pounds!" he echoed. 

The man on the other side glanced at him, I thought, a little curiously. 

"If you can give me references, or satisfy me in any way as to your _bonafides_, I am prepared to give you for this diamond an open check for tenthousand pounds, or if you prefer it, the cash instead. "

I stared; I was not accustomed to see business transacted on quite suchlines as those. 

"We'll take it, " murmured Pugh; I believe he was too much overcome by hisfeelings to do more than murmur. I interposed. 

"My dear sir, you will excuse my saying that you arrive very rapidly atyour conclusions. In the first place, how can you make sure that it is adiamond?"

The man behind the counter smiled. 

"I should be very ill-fitted for the position which I hold if I could nottell a diamond directly I get a sight of it, especially such a stone asthis. "

"But have you no tests you can apply?"

"We have tests which we apply in cases in which doubt exists, but in thiscase there is no doubt whatever. I am as sure that this is a diamond as Iam sure that it is air I breathe. However, here is a test. "

There was a wheel close by the speaker. It was worked by a treadle. It wasmore like a superior sort of traveling-tinker's grindstone than anythingelse. The man behind the counter put his foot upon the treadle. The wheelbegan to revolve. He brought the crystal into contact with the swiftlyrevolving wheel. There was a s--s--sh! And, in an instant, his hand wasempty; the crystal had vanished into air. 

"Good heavens!" he gasped. I never saw such a look of amazement on a humancountenance before. "It's splintered!"

POSTSCRIPT

It _was_ a diamond, although it _had_ splintered. In that fact lay thepoint of the joke. The man behind the counter had not been wrong;examination of such dust as could be collected proved that fact beyond adoubt. It was declared by experts that the diamond, at some period of itshistory, had been subjected to intense and continuing heat. The result hadbeen to make it as brittle as glass. 

There could be no doubt that its original owner had been an expert too. Heknew where he got it from, and he probably knew what it had endured. Hewas aware that, from a mercantile point of view, it was worthless; itcould never have been cut. So, having a turn for humor of a peculiar kind, he had devoted days, and weeks, and possibly months, to the constructionof that puzzle. He had placed the diamond inside, and he had enjoyed, inanticipation and in imagination, the Alnaschar visions of the luckyfinder. 

Pugh blamed me for the catastrophe. He said, and still says, that if I hadnot, in a measure, and quite gratuitously, insisted on a test, the manbehind the counter would have been satisfied with the evidence of hisorgans of vision, and we should have been richer by ten thousand pounds. But I satisfy my conscience with the reflection that what I did at anyrate was honest, though, at the same time, I am perfectly well aware thatsuch a reflection gives Pugh no sort of satisfaction. 

_The Great Valdez Sapphire_

I know more about it than anyone else in the world, its present owner notexcepted. I can give its whole history, from the Cingalese who found it, the Spanish adventurer who stole it, the cardinal who bought it, the Popewho graciously accepted it, the favored son of the Church who received it, the gay and giddy duchess who pawned it, down to the eminent prelate whonow holds it in trust as a family heirloom. 

It will occupy a chapter to itself in my forthcoming work on "HistoricStones, " where full details of its weight, size, color, and value may befound. At present I am going to relate an incident in its history which, for obvious reasons, will not be published--which, in fact, I trust thereader will consider related in strict confidence. 

I had never seen the stone itself when I began to write about it, and itwas not till one evening last spring, while staying with my nephew, SirThomas Acton, that I came within measurable distance of it. A dinner partywas impending, and, at my instigation, the Bishop of Northchurch and MissPanton, his daughter and heiress, were among the invited guests. 

The dinner was a particularly good one, I remember that distinctly. Infact, I felt myself partly responsible for it, having engaged the newcook--a talented young Italian, pupil of the admirable old _chef_ at myclub. We had gone over the _menu_ carefully together, with a resultrefreshing in its novelty, but not so daring as to disturb the minds ofthe innocent country guests who were bidden thereto. 

The first spoonful of soup was reassuring, and I looked to the end of thetable to exchange a congratulatory glance with Leta. What was amiss? Noresponse. Her pretty face was flushed, her smile constrained, she wastalking with quite unnecessary _empressement_ to her neighbor, Sir HarryLandor, though Leta is one of those few women who understand theimportance of letting a man settle down tranquilly and with an undisturbedmind to the business of dining, allowing no topic of serious interest tocome on before the _relevés_, and reserving mere conversational brilliancyfor the _entremets_. 

Guests all right? No disappointments? I had gone through the list withher, selecting just the right people to be asked to meet the Landors, ournew neighbors. Not a mere cumbrous county gathering, nor yet a showyimported party from town, but a skillful blending of both. Had anythinghappened already? I had been late for dinner and missed the arrivals inthe drawing-room. It was Leta's fault. She has got into a way of cominginto my room and putting the last touches to my toilet. I let her, for Iam doubtful of myself nowadays after many years' dependence on the best ofvalets. Her taste is generally beyond dispute, but to-day she had indulgedin a feminine vagary that provoked me and made me late for dinner. 

"Are you going to wear your sapphire, Uncle Paul!" she cried in a tone ofdismay. "Oh, why not the ruby?"

"You _would_ have your way about the table decorations, " I gently remindedher. "With that service of Crown Derby _repoussé_ and orchids, the rubywould look absolutely barbaric. Now if you would have had the Limoges set, white candles, and a yellow silk center--"

"Oh, but--I'm _so_ disappointed--I wanted the bishop to see your ruby--orone of your engraved gems--"

"My dear, it is on the bishop's account I put this on. You know hisdaughter is heiress of the great Valdez sapphire--"

"Of course she is, and when he has the charge of a stone three times asbig as yours, what's the use of wearing it? The ruby, dear Uncle Paul, _please_!"

She was desperately in earnest I could see, and considering theobligations which I am supposed to be under to her and Tom, it was but alittle matter to yield, but it involved a good deal of extra trouble. Studs, sleeve-links, watch-guard, all carefully selected to go with thesapphire, had to be changed, the emerald which I chose as a compromiserequiring more florid accompaniments of a deeper tone of gold; and thedinner hour struck as I replaced my jewel case, the one relic left me of aonce handsome fortune, in my fireproof safe. 

The emerald looked very well that evening, however. I kept my eyes upon itfor comfort when Miss Panton proved trying. 

She was a lean, yellow, dictatorial young person with no conversation. Ispoke of her father's celebrated sapphires. "_My_ sapphires, " she amendedsourly; "though I am legally debarred from making any profitable use ofthem. " She furthermore informed me that she viewed them as useless gauds, which ought to be disposed of for the benefit of the heathen. I gave thesubject up, and while she discoursed of the work of the Blue Ribbon Armyamong the Bosjesmans I tried to understand a certain dislocation in thearrangement of the table. Surely we were more or less in number than weshould be? Opposite side all right. Who was extra on ours? I leanedforward. Lady Landor on one side of Tom, on the other who? I caughtglimpses of plumes pink and green nodding over a dinner plate, and beneaththem a pink nose in a green visage with a nutcracker chin altogetherunknown to me. A sharp gray eye shot a sideway glance down the table andcaught me peeping, and I retreated, having only marked in addition twoclawlike hands, with pointed ruffles and a mass of brilliant rings, makinggood play with a knife and fork. Who was she? At intervals a high acidvoice could be heard addressing Tom, and a laugh that made me shudder; ithad the quality of the scream of a bird of prey or the yell of a jackal. Ihad heard that sort of laugh before, and it always made me feel like adefenseless rabbit. Every time it sounded I saw Leta's fan flutter morefuriously and her manner grow more nervously animated. Poor dear girl! Inever in all my recollection wished a dinner at an end so earnestly so asto assure her of my support and sympathy, though without the faintestconception why either should be required. 

The ices at last. A _menu_ card folded in two was laid beside me. I readit unobserved. "Keep the B. From joining us in the drawing-room. " The B. ?The bishop, of course. With pleasure. But why? And how? _That's_ thequestion, never mind "why. " Could I lure him into the library--thebilliard room--the conservatory? I doubted it, and I doubted still morewhat I should do with him when I got him there. 

The bishop is a grand and stately ecclesiastic of the mediæval type, broad-chested, deep-voiced, martial of bearing. I could picture himcharging mace in hand at the head of his vassals, or delivering over adissenter of the period to the rack and thumbscrew, but not potteringamong rare editions, tall copies and Grolier bindings, nor condescendingto a quiet cigar among the tree ferns and orchids. Leta must and should beobeyed, I swore, nevertheless, even if I were driven to lock the door inthe fearless old fashion of a bygone day, and declare I'd shoot any manwho left while a drop remained in the bottles. 

The ladies were rising. The lady at the head of the line smirked andnodded her pink plumes coquettishly at Tom, while her hawk's eyes rovedkeen and predatory over us all. She stopped suddenly, creating a block andconfusion. 

"Ah, the dear bishop! _You_ there, and I never saw you! You must come andhave a nice long chat presently. By-by--!" She shook her fan at him overmy shoulder and tripped off. Leta, passing me last, gave me a look ofprofound despair. 

"Lady Carwitchet!" somebody exclaimed. "I couldn't believe my eyes. "

"Thought she was dead or in penal servitude. Never should have expectedto see her _here_, " said some one else behind me confidentially. 

"What Carwitchet? Not the mother of the Carwitchet who--"

"Just so. The Carwitchet who--" Tom assented with a shrug. "We needn't gofarther, as she's my guest. Just my luck. I met them at Buxton, thoughtthem uncommonly good company--in fact, Carwitchet laid me under a greatobligation about a horse I was nearly let in for buying--and gave them ageneral invitation here, as one does, you know. Never expected her to turnup with her luggage this afternoon just before dinner, to stay a week, ora fortnight if Carwitchet can join her. " A groan of sympathy ran round thetable. "It can't be helped. I've told you this just to show that Ishouldn't have asked you here to meet this sort of people of my own freewill; but, as it is, please say no more about them. " The subject was notdropped by any means, and I took care that it should not be. At our end ofthe table one story after another went buzzing round--_sotto voce_, out ofdeference to Tom--but perfectly audible. 

"Carwitchet? Ah, yes. Mixed up in that Rawlings divorce case, wasn't he? Abad lot. Turned out of the Dragoon Guards for cheating at cards, orpicking pockets, or something--remember the row at the Cerulean Club?Scandalous exposure--and that forged letter business--oh, that was themother--prosecution hushed up somehow. Ought to be serving her fourteenyears--and that business of poor Farrars, the banker--got hold of some ofhis secrets and blackmailed him till he blew his brains out--"

It was so exciting that I clean forgot the bishop, till a low gasp at myelbow startled me. He was lying back in his chair, his mighty shaven jowla ghastly white, his fierce imperious eyebrows drooping limp over hisfishlike eyes, his splendid figure shrunk and contracted. He was tryingwith a shaken hand to pour out wine. The decanter clattered against theglass and the wine spilled on the cloth. 

"I'm afraid you find the room too warm. Shall we go into the library?"

He rose hastily and followed me like a lamb. 

He recovered himself once we got into the hall, and affably rejected allmy proffers of brandy and soda--medical advice--everything else my limitedexperience could suggest. He only demanded his carriage "directly" andthat Miss Panton should be summoned forthwith. 

I made the best use I could of the time left me. 

"I'm uncommonly sorry you do not feel equal to staying a little longer, mylord. I counted on showing you my few trifles of precious stones, thesalvage from the wreck of my possessions. Nothing in comparison with yourown collection. "

The bishop clasped his hand over his heart. His breath came short andquick. 

"A return of that dizziness, " he explained with a faint smile. "You arethinking of the Valdez sapphire, are you not? Some day, " he went on withforced composure, "I may have the pleasure of showing it to you. It is atmy banker's just now. "

Miss Panton's steps were heard in the hall. "You are well known as aconnoisseur, Mr. Acton, " he went on hurriedly. "Is your collectionvaluable? If so, _keep it safe; don't trust a ring off your hand, or thekey of your jewel case out of your pocket till the house is clear again_. "The words rushed from his lips in an impetuous whisper, he gave me ameaning glance, and departed with his daughter. I went back to thedrawing-room, my head swimming with bewilderment. 

"What! The dear bishop gone!" screamed Lady Carwitchet from the centralottoman where she sat, surrounded by most of the gentlemen, all apparentlywell entertained by her conversation. "And I wanted to talk over old timeswith him so badly. His poor wife was my greatest friend. Mira Montanaro, daughter of the great banker, you know. It's not possible that thatmiserable little prig is my poor Mira's girl. The heiress of all theMontanaros in a black lace gown worth twopence! When I think of hermother's beauty and her toilets! Does she ever wear the sapphires? Hasanyone ever seen her in them? Eleven large stones in a lovely antiquesetting, and the great Valdez sapphire--worth thousands and thousands--forthe pendant. " No one replied. "I wanted to get a rise out of the bishopto-night. It used to make him so mad when I wore this. "

She fumbled among the laces at her throat, and clawed out a pendant thathung to a velvet band around her neck. I fairly gasped when she removedher hand. A sapphire of irregular shape flashed out its blue lightning onus. Such a stone! A true, rich, cornflower blue even by that wretchedartificial light, with soft velvety depths of color and dazzling clearnessof tint in its lights and shades--a stone to remember! I stretched out myhand involuntarily, but Lady Carwitchet drew back with a coquettishsqueal. "No! no! You mustn't look any closer. Tell me what you think of itnow. Isn't it pretty?"

"Superb!" was all I could ejaculate, staring at the azure splendor of thatmiraculous jewel in a sort of trance. 

She gave a shrill cackling laugh of mockery. 

"The great Mr. Acton taken in by a bit of Palais Royal gimcrackery! Whatan advertisement for Bogaerts et Cie! They are perfect artists in frauds. Don't you remember their stand at the first Paris Exhibition? They hadimitation there of every celebrated stone; but I never expected anythingmade by man could delude Mr. Acton, never!" And she went off into anothermocking cackle, and all the idiots round her haw-hawed knowingly, as ifthey had seen the joke all along. I was too bewildered to reply, which wason the whole lucky. "I suppose I mustn't tell why I came to give quite abig sum in francs for this?" she went on, tapping her closed lips with herclosed fan, and cocking her eye at us all like a parrot wanting to becoaxed to talk. "It's a queer story. "

I didn't want to hear her anecdote, especially as I saw she wanted to tellit. What I _did_ want was to see that pendant again. She had thrust itback among her laces, only the loop which held it to the velvet beingvisible. It was set with three small sapphires, and even from a distance Iclearly made them out to be imitations, and poor ones. I felt a queerthrill of self-mistrust. Was the large stone no better? Could I, even foran instant, have been dazzled by a sham, and a sham of that quality? Theevents of the evening had flurried and confused me. I wished to think themover in quiet. I would go to bed. 

My rooms at the Manor are the best in the house. Leta will have it so. Imust explain their position for a reason to be understood later. Mybedroom is in the southeast angle of the house; it opens on one side intoa sitting-room in the east corridor, the rest of which is taken up by thesuite of rooms occupied by Tom and Leta; and on the other side into mybathroom, the first room in the south corridor, where the principal guestchambers are, to one of which it was originally the dressing-room. Passingthis room I noticed a couple of housemaids preparing it for the night, anddiscovered with a shiver that Lady Carwitchet was to be my next-doorneighbor. It gave me a turn. 

The bishop's strange warning must have unnerved me. I was perfectly safefrom her ladyship. The disused door into her room was locked, and the keysafe on the housekeeper's bunch. It was also undiscoverable on her side, the recess in which it stood being completely filled by a large wardrobe. On my side hung a thick sound-proof _portière_. Nevertheless, I resolvednot to use that room while she inhabited the next one. I removed mypossessions, fastened the door of communication with my bedroom, anddragged a heavy ottoman across it. 

Then I stowed away my emerald in my strong-box. It is built into the wallof my sitting-room, and masked by the lower part of an old carved oakbureau. I put away even the rings I wore habitually, keeping out only aninferior cat's-eye for workaday wear. I had just made all safe when Letatapped at the door and came in to wish me good night. She looked flushedand harassed and ready to cry. "Uncle Paul, " she began, "I want you to goup to town at once, and stay away till I send for you. "

"My dear--!" I was too amazed to expostulate. 

"We've got a--a pestilence among us, " she declared, her foot tapping theground angrily, "and the least we can do is to go into quarantine. Oh, I'mso sorry and so ashamed! The poor bishop! I'll take good care that no oneelse shall meet that woman here. You did your best for me, Uncle Paul, andmanaged admirably, but it was all no use. I hoped against hope that whatbetween the dusk of the drawing-room before dinner, and being put atopposite ends of the table, we might get through without a meeting--"

"But, my dear, explain. Why shouldn't the bishop and Lady Carwitchet meet?Why is it worse for him than anyone else?"

"Why? I thought everybody had heard of that dreadful wife of his whonearly broke his heart. If he married her for her money it served himright, but Lady Landor says she was very handsome and really in love withhim at first. Then Lady Carwitchet got hold of her and led her into allsorts of mischief. She left her husband--he was only a rector with acountry living in those days--and went to live in town, got into a horridfast set, and made herself notorious. You _must_ have heard of her. "

"I heard of her sapphires, my dear. But I was in Brazil at the time. "

"I wish you had been at home. You might have found her out. She wasfurious because her husband refused to let her wear the great Valdezsapphire. It had been in the Montanaro family for some generations, andher father settled it first on her and then on her little girl--the bishopbeing trustee. He felt obliged to take away the little girl, and send heroff to be brought up by some old aunts in the country, and he locked upthe sapphire. Lady Carwitchet tells as a splendid joke how they got thecopy made in Paris, and it did just as well for the people to stare at. Nowonder the bishop hates the very name of the stone. "

"How long will she stay here?" I asked dismally. 

"Till Lord Carwitchet can come and escort her to Paris to visit someAmerican friends. Goodness knows when that will be! Do go up to town, Uncle Paul!"

I refused indignantly. The very least I could do was to stand by my pooryoung relatives in their troubles and help them through. I did so. I worethat inferior cat's eye for six weeks!

It is a time I cannot think of even now without a shudder. The more I sawof that terrible old woman the more I detested her, and we saw a verygreat deal of her. Leta kept her word, and neither accepted nor gaveinvitations all that time. We were cut off from all society but that ofold General Fairford, who would go anywhere and meet anyone to get arubber after dinner; the doctor, a sporting widower; and the Duberlys, agiddy, rather rackety young, couple who had taken the Dower House for ayear. Lady Carwitchet seemed perfectly content. She reveled in the softliving and good fare of the Manor House, the drives in Leta's bigbarouche, and Domenico's dinners, as one to whom short commons were notunknown. She had a hungry way of grabbing and grasping at everything shecould--the shillings she won at whist, the best fruit at dessert, thepostage stamps in the library inkstand--that was infinitely suggestive. Sometimes I could have pitied her, she was so greedy, so spiteful, sofriendless. She always made me think of some wicked old pirate puttinginto a peaceful port to provision and repair his battered old hulk, obliged to live on friendly terms with the natives, but his piratical oldnostrils asniff for plunder and his piratical old soul longing to be offmarauding once more. When would that be? Not till the arrival in Paris ofher distinguished American friends, of whom we heard a great deal. "Charming people, the Bokums of Chicago, the American branch of theEnglish Beauchamps, you know!" They seemed to be taking an unconscionabletime to get there. She would have insisted on being driven over toNorthchurch to call at the palace, but that the bishop was understood tobe holding confirmations at the other end of the diocese. 

I was alone in the house one afternoon sitting by my window, toying withthe key of my safe, and wondering whether I dare treat myself to a peep atmy treasures, when a suspicious movement in the park below caught myattention. A black figure certainly dodged from behind one tree to thenext, and then into the shadow of the park paling instead of keeping tothe footpath. It looked queer. I caught up my field glass and marked himat one point where he was bound to come into the open for a few steps. Hecrossed the strip of turf with giant strides and got into cover again, butnot quick enough to prevent me recognizing him. It was--greatheavens!--the bishop! In a soft hat pulled over his forehead, with a longcloak and a big stick, he looked like a poacher. 

Guided by some mysterious instinct I hurried to meet him. I opened theconservatory door, and in he rushed like a hunted rabbit. Withoutexplanation I led him up the wide staircase to my room, where he droppedinto a chair and wiped his face. 

"You are astonished, Mr. Acton, " he panted. "I will explain directly. Thanks. " He tossed off the glass of brandy I had poured out withoutwaiting for the qualifying soda, and looked better. 

"I am in serious trouble. You can help me. I've had a shock to-day--agrievous shock. " He stopped and tried to pull himself together. "I musttrust you implicitly, Mr. Acton, I have no choice. Tell me what you thinkof this. " He drew a case from his breast pocket and opened it. "I promisedyou should see the Valdez sapphire. Look there!"

The Valdez sapphire! A great big shining lump of blue crystal--flawlessand of perfect color--that was all. I took it up, breathed on it, drew outmy magnifier, looked at it in one light and another. What was wrong withit? I could not say. Nine experts out of ten would undoubtedly havepronounced the stone genuine. I, by virtue of some mysterious instinctthat has hitherto always guided me aright, was the unlucky tenth. I lookedat the bishop. His eyes met mine. There was no need of spoken wordbetween us. 

"Has Lady Carwitchet shown you her sapphire?" was his most unexpectedquestion. "She has? Now, Mr. Acton, on your honor as a connoisseur and agentleman, which of the two is the Valdez?"

"Not this one. " I could say naught else. 

"You were my last hope. " He broke off, and dropped his face on his foldedarms with a groan that shook the table on which he rested, while I stooddismayed at myself for having let so hasty a judgment escape me. He lifteda ghastly countenance to me. "She vowed she would see me ruined anddisgraced. I made her my enemy by crossing some of her schemes once, andshe never forgives. She will keep her word. I shall appear before theworld as a fraudulent trustee. I can neither produce the valuable confidedto my charge nor make the loss good. I have only an incredible story totell, " he dropped his head and groaned again. "Who will believe me?"

"I will, for one. "

"Ah, you? Yes, you know her. She took my wife from me, Mr. Acton. Heavenonly knows what the hold was that she had over poor Mira. She encouragedher to set me at defiance and eventually to leave me. She was answerablefor all the scandalous folly and extravagance of poor Mira's life inParis--spare me the telling of the story. She left her at last to diealone and uncared for. I reached my wife to find her dying of a fever fromwhich Lady Carwitchet and her crew had fled. She was raving in delirium, and died without recognizing me. Some trouble she had been in which I mustnever know oppressed her. At the very last she roused from a long stuporand spoke to the nurse. 'Tell him to get the sapphire back--she stole it. She has robbed my child. ' Those were her last words. The nurse understoodno English, and treated them as wandering; but _I_ heard them, and knewshe was sane when she spoke. "

"What did you do?"

"What could I? I saw Lady Carwitchet, who laughed at me, and defied me tomake her confess or disgorge. I took the pendant to more than one eminentjeweler on pretense of having the setting seen to, and all have examinedand admired without giving a hint of there being anything wrong. I alloweda celebrated mineralogist to see it; he gave no sign--"

"Perhaps they are right and we are wrong. "

"No, no. Listen. I heard of an old Dutchman celebrated for his imitations. I went to him, and he told me at once that he had been allowed byMontanaro to copy the Valdez--setting and all--for the Paris Exhibition. Ishowed him this, and he claimed it for his own work at once, and pointedout his private mark upon it. You must take your magnifier to find it; aGreek Beta. He also told me that he had sold it to Lady Carwitchet morethan a year ago. "

"It is a terrible position. "

"It is. My co-trustee died lately. I have never dared to have anotherappointed. I am bound to hand over the sapphire to my daughter on hermarriage, if her husband consents to take the name of Montanaro. "

The bishop's face was ghastly pale, and the moisture started on his brow. I racked my brain for some word of comfort. 

"Miss Panton may never marry. "

"But she will!" he shouted. "That is the blow that has been dealt meto-day. My chaplain--actually, my chaplain--tells me that he is going outas a temperance missionary to equatorial Africa, and has the assurance toadd that he believes my daughter is not indisposed to accompany him!" Hisconsummating wrath acted as a momentary stimulant. He sat upright, hiseyes flashing and his brow thunderous. I felt for that chaplain. Then hecollapsed miserably. "The sapphires will have to be produced, identified, revalued. How shall I come out of it? Think of the disgrace, the rippingup of old scandals! Even if I were to compound with Lady Carwitchet, thesum she hinted at was too monstrous. She wants more than my money. Helpme, Mr. Acton! For the sake of your own family interests, help me!"

"I beg your pardon--family interests? I don't understand. "

"If my daughter is childless, her next of kin is poor Marmaduke Panton, who is dying at Cannes, not married, or likely to marry; and failing him, your nephew, Sir Thomas Acton, succeeds. "

My nephew Tom! Leta, or Leta's baby, might come to be the possibleinheritor of the great Valdez sapphire! The blood rushed to my head as Ilooked at the great shining swindle before me. "What diabolic jugglery wasat work when the exchange was made?" I demanded fiercely. 

"It must have been on the last occasion of her wearing the sapphires inLondon. I ought never to have let her out of my sight. "

"You must put a stop to Miss Panton's marriage in the first place, " Ipronounced as autocratically as he could have done himself. 

"Not to be thought of, " he admitted helplessly. "Mira has my force ofcharacter. She knows her rights, and she will have her jewels. I want youto take charge of the--thing for me. If it's in the house she'll make meproduce it. She'll inquire at the banker's. If _you_ have it we can gaintime, if but for a day or two. " He broke off. Carriage wheels werecrashing on the gravel outside. We looked at one another in consternation. Flight was imperative. I hurried him downstairs and out of theconservatory just as the door bell rang. I think we both lost our heads inthe confusion. He shoved the case into my hands, and I pocketed it, without a thought of the awful responsibility I was incurring, and saw himdisappear into the shelter of the friendly night. 

When I think of what my feelings were that evening--of my murderous hatredof that smirking, jesting Jezebel who sat opposite me at dinner, mywrathful indignation at the thought of the poor little expected heirdefrauded ere his birth; of the crushing contempt I felt for myself andthe bishop as a pair of witless idiots unable to see our way out of thedilemma; all this boiling and surging through my soul, I can onlywonder--Domenico having given himself a holiday, and the kitchen maiddoing her worst and wickedest--that gout or jaundice did not put an end tothis story at once. 

"Uncle Paul!" Leta was looking her sweetest when she tripped into my roomnext morning. "I've news for you. She, " pointing a delicate forefinger inthe direction of the corridor, "is going! Her Bokums have reached Paris atlast, and sent for her to join them at the Grand Hotel. "

I was thunderstruck. The longed-for deliverance had but come to removehopelessly and forever out of my reach Lady Carwitchet and the greatValdez sapphire. 

"Why, aren't you overjoyed? I am. We are going to celebrate the event by adinner party. Tom's hospitable soul is vexed by the lack of entertainmentwe had provided her. We must ask the Brownleys some day or other, and theywill be delighted to meet anything in the way of a ladyship, or such smartfolks as the Duberly-Parkers. Then we may as well have the Blomfields, andair that awful modern Sèvres dessert service she gave us when we weremarried. " I had no objection to make, and she went on, rubbing her softcheek against my shoulder like the purring little cat she was: "Now I wantyou to do something to please me--and Mrs. Blomfield. She has set herheart on seeing your rubies, and though I know you hate her about as muchas you do that Sèvres china--"

"What! Wear my rubies with that! I won't. I'll tell you what I will do, though. I've got some carbuncles as big as prize gooseberries, a wholeset. Then you have only to put those Bohemian glass vases and candelabraon the table, and let your gardener do his worst with his great forced, scentless, vulgar blooms, and we shall all be in keeping. " Leta pouted. Anidea struck me. "Or I'll do as you wish, on one condition. You get LadyCarwitchet to wear her big sapphire, and don't tell her I wish it. "

I lived through the next few days as one in some evil dream. Thesapphires, like twin specters, haunted me day and night. Was ever man sotantalized? To hold the shadow and see the substance dangled temptinglywithin reach. The bishop made no sign of ridding me of my unwelcomecharge, and the thought of what might happen in a case ofburglary--fire--earthquake--made me start and tremble at all sorts ofinopportune moments. 

I kept faith with Leta, and reluctantly produced my beautiful rubies onthe night of her dinner party. Emerging from my room I came full upon LadyCarwitchet in the corridor. She was dressed for dinner, and at her throatI caught the blue gleam of the great sapphire. Leta had kept faith withme. I don't know what I stammered in reply to her ladyship's remarks; mywhole soul was absorbed in the contemplation of the intoxicatingloveliness of the gem. _That_ a Palais Royal deception! Incredible! Myfingers twitched, my breath came short and fierce with the lust ofpossession. She must have seen the covetous glare in my eyes. A look ofgratified spiteful complacency overspread her features, as she swept onahead and descended the stairs before me. I followed her to thedrawing-room door. She stopped suddenly, and murmuring somethingunintelligible hurried back again. 

Everybody was assembled there that I expected to see, with an addition. Not a welcome one by the look on Tom's face. He stood on the hearthrugconversing with a great hulking, high-shouldered fellow, sallow-faced, with a heavy mustache and drooping eyelids, from the corners of whichflashed out a sudden suspicious look as I approached, which lighted upinto a greedy one as it rested on my rubies, and seemed unaccountablyfamiliar to me, till Lady Carwitchet tripping past me exclaimed:

"He has come at last! My naughty, naughty boy! Mr. Acton, this is my son, Lord Carwitchet!"

I broke off short in the midst of my polite acknowledgments to stareblankly at her. The sapphire was gone! A great gilt cross, with a Scotchpebble like an acid drop, was her sole decoration. 

"I had to put my pendant away, " she explained confidentially; "the clasphad got broken somehow. " I didn't believe a word. 

Lord Carwitchet contributed little to the general entertainment at dinner, but fell into confidential talk with Mrs. Duberly-Parker. I caught a fewunintelligible remarks across the table. They referred, I subsequentlydiscovered, to the lady's little book on Northchurch races, and Irecollected that the Spring Meeting was on, and to-morrow "Cup Day. " Afterdinner there was great talk about getting up a party to go on GeneralFairford's drag. Lady Carwitchet was in ecstasies and tried to coax meinto joining. Leta declined positively. Tom accepted sulkily. 

The look in Lord Carwitchet's eye returned to my mind as I locked up myrubies that night. It made him look so like his mother! I went round myfastenings with unusual care. Safe and closets and desk and doors, I triedthem all. Coming at last to the bathroom, it opened at once. It was thehousemaid's doing. She had evidently taken advantage of my havingabandoned the room to give it "a thorough spring cleaning, " and Ianathematized her. The furniture was all piled together and veiled withsheets, the carpet and felt curtain were gone, there were new broomsabout. As I peered around, a voice close at my ear made me jump--LadyCarwitchet's!

"I tell you I have nothing, not a penny! I shall have to borrow my trainfare before I can leave this. They'll be glad enough to lend it. "

Not only had the _portière_ been removed, but the door behind it had beenunlocked and left open for convenience of dusting behind the wardrobe. Imight as well have been in the bedroom. 

"Don't tell me, " I recognized Carwitchet's growl. "You've not been hereall this time for nothing. You've been collecting for a Kilburn cot orgetting subscriptions for the distressed Irish landlords. I know you. NowI'm not going to see myself ruined for the want of a paltry hundred or so. I tell you the colt is a dead certainty. If I could have got a thousand ortwo on him last week, we might have ended our dog days millionaires. Handover what you can. You've money's worth, if not money. Where's thatsapphire you stole?"

"I didn't. I can show you the receipted bill. All _I_ possess is honestlycome by. What could you do with it, even if I gave it you? You couldn'tsell it as the Valdez, and you can't get it cut up as you might if it werereal. "

"If it's only bogus, why are you always in such a flutter about it? I'lldo something with it, never fear. Hand over. "

"I can't. I haven't got it. I had to raise something on it before I lefttown. "

"Will you swear it's not in that wardrobe? I dare say you will. I mean tosee. Give me those keys. "

I heard a struggle and a jingle, then the wardrobe door must have beenflung open, for a streak of light struck through a crack in the wood ofthe back. Creeping close and peeping through, I could see an awful sight. Lady Carwitchet in a flannel wrapper, minus hair, teeth, complexion, pointing a skinny forefinger that quivered with rage at her son, who wasout of the range of my vision. 

"Stop that, and throw those keys down here directly, or I'll rouse thehouse. Sir Thomas is a magistrate, and will lock you up as soon as look atyou. " She clutched at the bell rope as she spoke. "I'll swear I'm indanger of my life from you and give you in charge. Yes, and when you're inprison I'll keep you there till you die. I've often thought I'd do it. Howabout the hotel robberies last summer at Cowes, eh? Mightn't the police begrateful for a hint or two? And how about--"

The keys fell with a crash on the bed, accompanied by some bad language inan apologetic tone, and the door slammed to. I crept trembling to bed. 

This new and horrible complication of the situation filled me withdismay. Lord Carwitchet's wolfish glance at my rubies took a new meaning. They were safe enough, I believed--but the sapphire! If he disbelieved hismother, how long would she be able to keep it from his clutches? That shehad some plot of her own of which the bishop would eventually be thevictim I did not doubt, or why had she not made her bargain with him longago? But supposing she took fright, lost her head, allowed her son towrest the jewel from her, or gave consent to its being mutilated, divided!I lay in a cold perspiration till morning. 

My terrors haunted me all day. They were with me at breakfast time whenLady Carwitchet, tripping in smiling, made a last attempt to induce me toaccompany her and keep her "bad, bad boy" from getting among "those horridbetting men. "

They haunted me through the long peaceful day with Leta and the_tête-à-tête_ dinner, but they swarmed around and beset me sorest when, sitting alone over my sitting-room fire, I listened for the return of thedrag party. I read my newspaper and brewed myself some hot strong drink, but there comes a time of night when no fire can warm and no drink cancheer. The bishop's despairing face kept me company, and his troubles andthe wrongs of the future heir took possession of me. Then the uncannynoises that make all old houses ghostly during the small hours began tomake themselves heard. Muffled footsteps trod the corridor, stopping tolisten at every door, door latches gently clicked, boards creakedunreasonably, sounds of stealthy movements came from the locked-upbathroom. The welcome crash of wheels at last, and the sound of thefront-door bell. I could hear Lady Carwitchet making her shrill _adieux_to her friends and her steps in the corridor. She was softly humming alittle song as she approached. I heard her unlock her bedroom door beforeshe entered--an odd thing to do. Tom came sleepily stumbling to his roomlater. I put my head out. "Where is Lord Carwitchet?"

"Haven't you seen him? He left us hours ago. Not come home, eh? Well, he's welcome to stay away. I don't want to see more of him. " Tom's browwas dark and his voice surly. "I gave him to understand as much. " Whateverhad happened, Tom was evidently too disgusted to explain just then. 

I went back to my fire unaccountably relieved, and brewed myself anotherand a stronger brew. It warmed me this time, but excited me foolishly. There must be some way out of the difficulty. I felt now as if I couldalmost see it if I gave my mind to it. Why--suppose--there might be nodifficulty after all! The bishop was a nervous old gentleman. He mighthave been mistaken all through, Bogaerts might have been mistaken, Imight--no. I could not have been mistaken--or I thought not. I fidgetedand fumed and argued with myself till I found I should have no peace ofmind without a look at the stone in my possession, and I actually went tothe safe and took the case out. 

The sapphire certainly looked different by lamplight. I sat and stared, and all but overpersuaded my better judgment into giving it a verdict. Bogaerts's mark--I suddenly remembered it. I took my magnifier and heldthe pendant to the light. There, scratched upon the stone, was the GreekBeta! There came a tap on my door, and before I could answer, the handleturned softly and Lord Carwitchet stood before me. I whipped the case intomy dressing-gown pocket and stared at him. He was not pleasant to look at, especially at that time of night. He had a disheveled, desperate air, hisvoice was hoarse, his red-rimmed eyes wild. 

"I beg your pardon, " he began civilly enough. "I saw your light burning, and thought, as we go by the early train to-morrow, you might allow me toconsult you now on a little business of my mother's. " His eyes roved aboutthe room. Was he trying to find the whereabouts of my safe? "You know alot about precious stones, don't you?"

"So my friends are kind enough to say. Won't you sit down? I haveunluckily little chance of indulging the taste on my own account, " was mycautious reply. 

"But you've written a book about them, and know them when you see them, don't you? Now my mother has given me something, and would like you togive a guess at its value. Perhaps you can put me in the way of disposingof it?"

"I certainly can do so if it is worth anything. Is that it?" I was in afever of excitement, for I guessed what was clutched in his palm. He heldout to me the Valdez sapphire. 

How it shone and sparkled like a great blue star! I made myself adeprecating smile as I took it from him, but how dare I call it false toits face? As well accuse the sun in heaven of being a cheap imitation. Ifaltered and prevaricated feebly. Where was my moral courage, and wherewas the good, honest, thumping lie that should have aided me? "I have thebest authority for recognizing this as a very good copy of a famous stonein the possession of the Bishop of Northchurch. " His scowl grew so blackthat I saw he believed me, and I went on more cheerily: "This wasmanufactured by Johannes Bogaerts--I can give you his address, and you canmake inquiries yourself--by special permission of the then owner, the lateLeone Montanaro. "

"Hand it back!" he interrupted (his other remarks were outrageous, butsatisfactory to hear); but I waved him off. I couldn't give it up. Itfascinated me. I toyed with it, I caressed it. I made it display itsdifferent tones of color. I must see the two stones together. I must seeit outshine its paltry rival. It was a whimsical frenzy that seized me--Ican call it by no other name. 

"Would you like to see the original? Curiously enough, I have it here. Thebishop has left it in my charge. "

The wolfish light flamed up in Carwitchet's eyes as I drew forth the case. He laid the Valdez down on a sheet of paper, and I placed the other, stillin its case, beside it. In that moment they looked identical, except forthe little loop of sham stones, replaced by a plain gold band in thebishop's jewel. Carwitchet leaned across the table eagerly, the table gavea lurch, the lamp tottered, crashed over, and we were left insemidarkness. 

"Don't stir!" Carwitchet shouted. "The paraffin is all over the place!" Heseized my sofa blanket, and flung it over the table while I stoodhelpless. "There, that's safe now. Have you candles on the chimney-piece?I've got matches. "

He looked very white and excited as he lit up. "Might have been an awkwardjob with all that burning paraffin, running about, " he said quitepleasantly. "I hope no real harm is done. " I was lifting the rug withshaking hands. The two stones lay as I had placed them. No! I nearlydropped it back again. It was the stone in the case that had the loop withthe three sham sapphires!

Carwitchet picked the other up hastily. "So you say this is rubbish?" heasked, his eyes sparkling wickedly, and an attempt at mortification in histone. 

"Utter rubbish!" I pronounced, with truth and decision, snapping up thecase and pocketing it. "Lady Carwitchet must have known it. "

"Ah, well, it's disappointing, isn't it? Good-by, we shall not meetagain. "

I shook hands with him most cordially. "Good-by, Lord Carwitchet. _So_glad to have met you and your mother. It has been a source of the_greatest_ pleasure, I assure you. "

I have never seen the Carwitchets since. The bishop drove over next day inrather better spirits. Miss Panton had refused the chaplain. 

"It doesn't matter, my lord, " I said to him heartily. "We've all beenunder some strange misconception. The stone in your possession is theveritable one. I could swear to that anywhere. The sapphire LadyCarwitchet wears is only an excellent imitation, and--I have seen it withmy own eyes--is the one bearing Bogaerts's mark, the Greek Beta. "

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