Containing a Variety of Things.
"Guy Deverell left no issue," said Dives.
"No; none in the world; neither chick nor child. I need not care a brass
farthing about any that can't inherit, if there were any; but there
isn't one; there's no real danger, you see. In fact, there _can't_ be
_any_--eh? _I_ don't see it. Do _you_? You were a sharp fellow always,
Dives. _Can_ you see anything threatening in it?"
"_It! What?_" said the Rev. Dives Marlowe. "I see _nothing--nothing
whatever--absolutely_ nothing. Surely you can't fancy that a mere
resemblance, however strong, where there can't possibly be identity, and
the fact that the young man's name is Guy, will make a case for alarm!"
"Guy _Strangways_, you know," said Sir Jekyl.
"Well, what of Strangways? I don't see."
"Why, Strangways, you remember, or _don't_ remember, was the name of the
fellow that was always with--with--that cross-grained muff."
"With Guy Deverell, you mean?"
"Ay, with him that night, and constantly, and abroad I think at those
German gaming-places where he played so much."
"I forgot the name. I remember hearing there _was_ a person in your
company that unlucky night; but you never heard more of him?"
"No, of course; for he owed me a precious lot of money;" and from habit
he chuckled, but with something of a frown. "He could have given me a
lot of trouble, but so could I him. My lawyers said he could not
seriously affect me, but he might have annoyed me; and I did not care
about the money, so I did not follow him; and, as the lawyers say, we
turned our backs on one another."
"Strangways," murmured the Rector, musingly.
"Do you remember him now?" asked Sir Jekyl.
"No; that is, I'm not sure. I was in orders then though, and could
hardly have met him. I am sure I should recollect him if I had. What was
he like?"
"A nasty-looking Scotch dog, with freckles--starved and tall--a hungry
hound--large hands and feet--as ugly a looking cur as you ever beheld."
"But Deverell, poor fellow, was a bit of a dandy--wasn't he? How did he
come to choose such a companion?"
"Well, maybe he was not quite as bad as he describes, and his family was
good, I believe; but there must have been something more, he hung about
him so. Yes, he _was_ a most objectionable-looking fellow--so awkward,
and not particularly well dressed; but a canny rascal, and knew what he
was about. I could not make out what use Deverell made of him, nor
exactly what advantage he made of Deverell."
"I can't for the life of me, see, Jekyl, anything in it except a
resemblance, and that is positively nothing, and a Christian name, that
is all, and Guy is no such uncommon one. As for Strangways, he does not
enter into it at all--a mere accidental association. Where is that
Strangways--is he living?"
"I don't know now; ten years ago he was, and Pelter and Crowe thought he
was going to do me some mischief, a prosecution or something, they
thought, to extort money; but I knew they were wrong. I had a reason--at
least it was unlikely, because I rather think he had repaid me that
money about then. A year or so before a large sum of money was lodged to
my account by Herbert Strangways, that was his name, at the
International Bank in Lombard Street; in fact it was more than I thought
he owed me--interest, I suppose, and that sort of thing. I put Pelter
and Crowe in his track, but they could make out nothing. The bank people
could not help us. Unluckily I was away at the time and the lodgment was
two months old when I heard of it. There were several raw Scotch-looking
rascals, they said, making lodgments about then, and they could not tell
exactly what sort of fellow made this. I wanted to make out about him.
What do you think of it?"
"I don't see anything suspicious in it. He owed you the money and chose
to pay."
"He was protected by the Statute of Limitations, my lawyer said, and I
could not have recovered it. Doesn't it look odd?"
"Those Scotch fellows."
"He's not Scotch, though."
"Well, whatever he is, if he has good blood he's proud, perhaps, and
would rather pay what he owes than not."
"Well, of course, a fellow's glad of the money; but I did not like it;
it looked as if he wanted to get rid of the only pull I had on him, and
was going to take steps to annoy me, you see."
"That's ten years ago?"
"Yes."
"Well, considering how short life is, I think he'd have moved before now
if he had ever thought of it. It is a quarter of a _century_ since poor
Deverell's time. It's a good while, you know, and the longer you wait in
matters of that kind the less your chance;" and with a brisk decision
the Rector added, "I'll stake, I think, all I'm worth, these people have
no more connection with poor Deverell than Napoleon Bonaparte, and that
Strangways has no more notion of moving any matter connected with that
unhappy business than he has of leading an Irish rebellion."
"I'm glad you take that view--I know it's the sound one. I knew you
_would_. I think it's just a little flicker of gout. If I had taken
Vichy on my way back I'd never have thought of it. I've no one to talk
to. It's a comfort to see you, Dives. I wish you'd come oftener." And he
placed his hand very kindly on his brother's shoulder.
"So I will," said Dives, not without kindness in his eyes, though his
mouth was forbidding still. "You must not let chimeras take hold of you.
I'm very glad I was here."
"Did you remark that fat, mountainous French fellow, in that cursed suit
of black, was very inquisitive about the green chamber?" asked Sir
Jekyl, relapsing a little.
"No, I did not hear him mention it; what was it?" asked Dives.
"Well, not a great deal; only he seemed to want to know all about that
particular room and its history, just as if there was already something
in his head about it."
"Well, I told you, Jekyl," said Dives, in a subdued tone and looking
away a little, "you ought to do something decisive about that room, all
things considered. If it were mine, I can tell you, I should pull it
down--not, of course, in such a way as to make people talk and ask
questions, but as a sort of improvement. I'd make a conservatory, or
something; you _want_ a conservatory, and the building is positively
injured by it. It is not the same architecture. You might put something
there twice as good. At all events I'd get rid of it."
"So I will--I _intend_--I think you're right--I really do. But it was
brought about by little Beatrix talking about haunted rooms, you know,
and that sort of nonsense," said Sir Jekyl.
"Oh! then she mentioned it? He only asked questions about what she told
him. Surely you're not going to vex yourself about that?"
Sir Jekyl looked at him and laughed, but not quite comfortably.
"Well, I told you, you know, I do believe it's great; and whatever it
is, I know, Dives, you've done me a great deal of good. Come, now, I've
a horse I think you'll like, and you shall have him; try him to-day, and
I'll send him home for you if he suits you."
While the groom was putting up the horse, Sir Jekyl, who was quick and
accurate of eye, recognised the dark-faced, intelligent little valet,
whom he had seen for a moment, candle in hand, at the dressing-room
door, last night, to receive his guests.
With a deferential smile, and shrug, and bow, all at once, this little
gentleman lifted his cap with one hand, removing his German pipe with
the other.
He had been a courier--clever, active, gay--a man who might be trusted
with money, papers, diamonds. Beside his native French, he spoke English
very well, and a little German. He could keep accounts, and write a neat
little foreign hand with florid capitals. He could mend his own clothes,
and even his shoes. He could play the flute a little, and very much the
fiddle. He was curious, and liked to know what was taking place. He
liked a joke and the dance, and was prone to the tender passion, and
liked, in an honest way, a little bit of intrigue, or even espionage.
Such a man he was as I could fancy in a light company of that marvellous
army of Italy, of which Napoleon I. always spoke with respect and
delight.
In the stable-yard, as I have said, the Baronet found this dark sprite
smoking a German pipe; and salutations having been exchanged, he bid him
try instead two of his famous cigars, which he presented, and then he
questioned him on tobacco, and on his family, the theatres, the
railways, the hotels; and finally Sir Jekyl said,
"I wish you could recollect a man like yourself--I want one
confoundedly. I shall be going abroad in August next year, and I'd give
him five thousand francs a year, or more even, with pleasure, and keep
him probably as long as he liked to stay with me. Try if you can
remember such a fellow. Turn it over in your mind--do you see? and I
don't care how soon he comes into my service."
The man lifted his cap again, and bowed even lower, as he undertook to
"turn it over in his mind;" and though he smiled a great deal, it was
plain his thoughts were already seriously employed in turning the
subject over, as requested by the Baronet.
Next morning M. Varbarriere took a quiet opportunity, in the hall, of
handing to his host two letters of introduction, as they are called--one
from the Baronet's old friend, Charteris, attached to the embassy at
Paris--a shrewd fellow, a man of the world, amphibious, both French and
English, and equally at home on either soil--speaking unmistakably in
high terms of M. Varbarriere as of a gentleman very much respected in
very high quarters. The other was equally handsome. But Charteris was
exactly the man whose letter in such a case was to be relied upon.
The Baronet glanced over these, and said he was very glad to hear from
his friend Charteris--the date was not a week since--but laughed at the
formality, regretting that he had not a note from Charteris to present
in return, and then gracefully quoted an old French distich, the
sentiment of which is that "chivalry proclaims itself, and the gentleman
is no more to be mistaken than the rose," and proceeded to ask his
guest, "How is Charteris--he had hurt his wrist when I saw him last--and
is there any truth in the report about his possible alliance with that
rich widow?" and so forth.
When Sir Jekyl got into his sanctum I am afraid he read both letters
with a very microscopic scrutiny, and he resolved inwardly to write a
very sifting note to Charteris, and put it upon him, as an act of
friendship, to make out every detail of the past life and adventures of
M. Varbarriere, and particularly whether he had any young kinsman,
nephew or otherwise, answering a certain description, all the items of
which he had by rote.
But writing of letters is to some people a very decided bore. The
Baronet detested it, and his anxieties upon these points being
intermittent, the interrogatories were not so soon despatched to his
friend Charteris.
Old General Lennox was away for London this morning; and his host took a
seat beside him in the brougham that was to convey him to the station,
and was dropped on the way at the keeper's lodge, when he bid a kind and
courteous adieu to his guest, whom he charged to return safe and soon,
and kissed his hand, and waved it after the florid smiling countenance
and bushy white eyebrows that were protruded from the carriage-window as
it glided away.
"You can manage it all in a day or two, can't you?" said the Baronet,
cordially, as he held the General's wrinkled hand, with its knobby and
pink joints, in his genial grasp. "We positively won't give you more
than three days' leave. Capital shooting when you come back. I'm going
to talk it over with the keeper here--that is, if you come back before
we've shot them all."
"Oh! yes, hang it, you must leave a bird or two for me," laughed the
General, and he bawled the conclusion of the joke as the vehicle drove
away; but Sir Jekyl lost it.
Sir Jekyl was all the happier for his morning's talk with his brother.
An anxiety, if only avowed and discussed, is so immensely lightened; but
Dives had scouted the whole thing so peremptorily that the Baronet was
positively grateful. Dives was a wise and clear-headed fellow. It was
delightful his taking so decided a view. And was it not on reflection
manifestly, even to him, the sound view?