A small room, and rendered yet smaller by the numerous chests and strong
boxes encroaching upon its narrow limits. In some cases these boxes are
piled, one upon another, till they touch the ceiling. All of them look
stout enough, yet many are further strengthened by iron hoops and
broad-headed nails, and secured by huge padlocks. The door is cased with
iron, within and without, and has a ponderous lock, of which the master
of the room always keeps the key, and never trusts it out of his own
hand.
This small chamber is the private cabinet of Sir Giles Mompesson.
No one is permitted to enter it without him. Though his myrmidons are
fully aware of its existence, and can give a shrewd guess at its
contents, only two of them have set foot within it. The two thus
privileged are Clement Lanyere and Lupo Vulp. Neither the promoter nor
the scrivener are much in the habit of talking over their master's
affairs, even with their comrades, and are almost as habitually reserved
as he is himself; still, from the few words let fall by them from time
to time, the myrmidons have picked up a tolerable notion of the private
cabinet, of its hidden cupboards in the walls, its drawers with secret
springs; its sliding planks with hollows beneath them; its chests full
of treasure, or what is the same thing as treasure, bonds,
mortgage-deeds, and other securities; and its carefully concealed hoards
of plate, jewels, and other valuables. Some of the least scrupulous
among them--such as Staring, Hugh, Cutting Dick, and old Tom
Wootton--have often discussed the possibility of secretly visiting it,
and making a perquisition of its stores; but they have been hitherto
restrained by their fears of their terrible and vindictive master.
On looking into the cabinet we find Sir Giles seated at a table, with a
large chest open beside him, from which he has taken for examination
sundry yellow parchments, with large seals attached to them. He is now
occupied with a deed, on one of the skins of which the plan of an
important estate is painted, and on this his attention becomes fixed.
His countenance is cadaverous, and its ghastly hue adds to its grimness
of expression. A band is tied round his head, and there is an expression
of pain in his face, and an air of languor and debility in his manner,
very different from what is usual with him. It is plain he has not yet
recovered from the effects of the crushing blow he received at the
jousts.
Opposite him sits his partner, Sir Francis Mitchell; and the silence
that has reigned between them for some minutes is first broken by the
old usurer.
"Well, Sir Giles," he inquires, "are you satisfied with your
examination of these deeds of the Mounchensey property? The estates have
been in the family, as you see, for upwards of two centuries--ever since
the reign of Henry IV., in fact--and you have a clear and undisputed
title to all the property depicted on that plan--to an old hall with a
large park around it, eight miles in circumference, and almost as well
stocked with deer as the royal chase of Theobald's; and you have a title
to other territorial domains extending from Mounchensey Place and Park
to the coast, a matter of twelve miles as the crow flies, Sir
Giles,--and including three manors and a score of little villages. Will
not these content you? Methinks they should. I' faith, my worthy
partner, when I come to reckon up all your possessions, your houses and
lands, and your different sources of revenue--the sums owing to you in
bond and mortgage--your monopolies and your patents--when I reckon up
all these, I say, and add thereunto the wealth hoarded in this cabinet,
which you have not placed out at usance--I do not hesitate to set you
down as one of the richest of my acquaintance. There be few whose
revenue is so large as yours, Sir Giles. 'Tis strange, though I have had
the same chance as yourself of making money, I have not a hundredth part
of your wealth."
"Not a whit strange," replied Sir Giles, laying down the deed and
regarding his partner somewhat contemptuously. "I waste not what I
acquire. I have passions as well as yourself, Sir Francis; but I keep
them under subjection. I drink not--I riot not--I shun all idle company.
I care not for outward show, or for the vanities of dress. I have only
one passion which I indulge,--Revenge. You are a slave to sensuality,
and pamper your lusts at any cost. Let a fair woman please your eye, and
she must be bought, be the price what it may. No court prodigal was ever
more licentious or extravagant than you are."
"Sir Giles! Sir Giles! I pray you, spare me. My enemies could not report
worse of me."
"Nay, your enemies would say that your extravagance is your sole merit,
and that therein you are better than I," rejoined Sir Giles, with a
sardonic laugh. "But I rejoice to think I am free from all such
weaknesses. The veriest enchantress could not tempt me. I am proof
against all female seductions. Think you the damsel lives who could
induce me to give for her half these broad lands in Norfolk--this
ancient hall, and its wide-spread domains? I trow not."
"Perchance I have given too much," cried the old usurer, eagerly; "if
so, it is not too late to amend our contract. Between us, there should
be fair dealing, Sir Giles."
"There is none other than fair dealing on my part," replied the
extortioner sternly; "and the terms of our agreement cannot be departed
from. What I have just said applies to your general mode of life; but
you have better reason for your conduct in this instance than is usual
with you, since you combine the gratification of revenge with the
indulgence of your other passions. You obtain a fair young bride, and at
the same time deprive the person whom you hate most of all others, of
the mistress of his affections. This is as it should be. Vengeance
cannot be too dearly purchased, and the more refined the vengeance, the
higher must necessarily be the price paid for it. In no way can you so
cruelly injure this detested Mounchensey, as by robbing him of his
mistress. And the blow dealt by you, shall be followed by others not
less severe on my part."
"Ay, ay, Sir Giles, you have to wipe out the outrage he inflicted upon
you in the tilt-yard. As I am a true gentleman, that was worse than the
indignity I endured from him in the court-yard of the palace. It must be
confessed that the villain hath a powerful hand as well as a sharp
tongue, and follows up his bitter words by bold deeds. The stroke he
dealt you with his sword was like a blow from a sledge hammer, Sir
Giles. He felled you from your horse as a butcher felleth an ox; and, in
good truth, I at first thought the ox's fate had been yours, and that
you would never rise again. Your helmet was dinted in as if by a great
shot. And for twelve hours and upwards you were senseless and
speechless;--But thanks to my care and the skill of Luke Hatton the
apothecary who tended you, you have been brought round. After such
treatment, I cannot wonder that you are eager for revenge upon Sir
Jocelyn. How will you deal with him Sir Giles? How will you deal with
him?"
"I will hurl him from the proud position he now holds," replied the
other, "and immure him in the Fleet."
"While I revel in the bliss he panted to enjoy," cried the old usurer,
chuckling. "Take it altogether, 'tis the sweetest scheme we ever
planned, and the most promising, Sir Giles! But when am I to claim
Aveline? when shall I make her mine?"
"You shall claim her to-morrow, and wed her as soon after as you list."
"Nay, there shall be no delay on my part, Sir Giles. I am all
impatience. When such a dainty repast is spread out before me, I am not
likely to be a laggard. But now, to the all-important point on which the
whole affair hinges! How am I to assert my claim to her hand--how
enforce it when made? Explain that to me, Sir Giles, I beseech you."
"Readily," replied the extortioner. "But before doing so let me give you
a piece of information which will surprise you, and which will show you
that my tenure of this great Norfolk property is not quite so secure as
you suppose it. You are aware that Sir Ferdinando Mounchensey had a
younger brother, Osmond--"
"Who disappeared when very young, and died, it was concluded,"
interrupted Sir Francis, "for he was never heard of more. And it was
lucky for us he did so die, or he might have proved a serious obstacle
to our seizure of these estates, for I remember it being stated at the
time, by one of the judges, that had he been living, he might have
procured a reversal of the Star-Chamber sentence upon Sir Ferdinando in
his favour."
"Precisely so, and that judge's opinion was correct," said Sir Giles.
"Now listen to me, Sir Francis. It is quite true that Osmond Mounchensey
quitted his home when very young, owing to some family quarrel; but it
is not true that he died. On the contrary, I have recently ascertained,
beyond a doubt, that he is still alive. Hitherto, I have failed in
tracing him out, though I have got a clue to him; but he has enveloped
himself in so much mystery that he is difficult of detection. Yet I
trust to succeed ere long; and my great business will be to prevent his
re-appearance, which would be fraught with danger to us both. I have a
scheme on foot in reference to him which will answer more than one
purpose. You will learn it anon. And now, to give you the explanation
you require in respect to Aveline."
And he stamped upon the floor.
"You are not about to invoke a spirit of darkness to our councils?" said
Sir Francis, staring at him in astonishment and alarm.
"You will see," rejoined the extortioner with a grim smile.
After a brief pause, the door was almost noiselessly opened, and Clement
Lanyere entered the chamber.
"What has Lanyere to do with the matter?" cried Sir Francis,
suspiciously regarding the promoter, who was without his mask.
"You will hear," replied Sir Giles. "Be pleased to inform Sir Francis,
good Lanyere, how you come to be in a position to demand the hand of
fair Mistress Aveline Calveley?"
"He demand it! I understand you not, Sir Giles!" exclaimed the old
usurer.
"Let him speak, I pray you, Sir Francis," returned the other. "You will
the sooner learn what you desire to know."