"Hands off!" he almost shouted, and started up in bed, a horrible
expression of fear on his face.
"Why, Wyngate, old chap, you seem to be having a first-class
nightmare," I remarked.
"Oh, it's you, is it?" he replied, not very graciously. "What are you
doing here?"
"You were talking in your sleep," I told him, "and tossing about all
over the place."
"That's very strange indeed," he said, anxiously. "I'm seldom troubled
with nightmares."
"Yes," I continued, "you thought you were at the top of a precipice in
Switzerland with another fellow, and threw him over."
"Nonsense!" he exclaimed, roughly.
"Weren't you dreaming about precipices?" I asked.
"Nothing of the kind!" he snapped. "I have slept badly, that was all,
and you needn't have roused me."
"Sorry, old chap," I rejoined, and left the room, rather offended by
his unusual surliness.
Next morning Wyngate said nothing about his nightmare, but the effects
did not seem to have left him. He found fault with the breakfast, made
irritable remarks, and, though he was not actually rude, revealed a
side of his character which was new to me. This was, in fact, the
commencement of altered relations between us. I began to notice in his
conversation covert sneers at my youth and inexperience, though this
did not in the least prevent him from borrowing a few pounds from time
to time when a bill came in. The money would not have mattered at all
had he remained the good fellow he had seemed at first, but it was a
different matter now, and I began to chafe.
Things went on like this for a couple of weeks. Then one day Hicks, my
servant, came to me with three of Captain Wyngate's tradesmen's bills.
"The captain," said Hicks, "won't be back till to-night, sir, and he
told me to ask you if you would kindly pay these for him."
This was the last straw. To be sneered at by a man who was living under
my roof, and then to be expected to pay his tailor and bootmaker, was
more than I could stand. With as much composure as I could command,
I told Hicks that Captain Wyngate would settle the accounts when he
returned. I then sat down and wrote my guest a note, in which I told
him what I thought of him, and added that, as he would probably prefer
other quarters, Hicks would pack up his things as soon as he pleased.
After this I went out, spent the afternoon watching a cricket match at
Lord's, and did not return home until late, when, to my great relief,
Captain Wyngate's room was vacant.
"What did the captain say when he read my note?" I asked Hicks.
"He only laughed, sir," was the reply, "and said he was going away for
a change of air."
It was a relief to find that my Old Man of the Sea, as I had now
come to regard the fascinating captain, had been unseated so easily,
and I went to bed feeling decidedly pleased with myself, and quite
convinced that I had heard the last of him. This fond delusion,
however, was shattered the very next day by the arrival of a crop of
his bills, including those of the day before, all brought by men with
instructions to ask for payment. I was for indignantly repudiating all
liabilities, but Hicks deferentially suggested that this might create
a bad impression; and on reflection I saw that a blunt refusal might
bring some of my own creditors about my ears rather sooner than I had
bargained for. I therefore told Hicks to say the accounts would be
settled next day, and meanwhile sent him to the hotel at which Captain
Wyngate was staying before he joined me, with a chillingly polite
note requesting him to settle with his tradespeople. Hicks came back
with the cheerful information that the captain had gone away and left
no address. Not knowing what else to do, I paid. The amount was not
large--some fifty pounds, in fact--but signing the cheques was a very
bitter pill.
Being now left to my own resources, it occurred to me to look into
my finances, and I discovered to my amazement that I had run through
more than four thousand pounds in two months! There were also accounts
owing, and it dawned upon me that at my present rate of living I should
be without a penny long before my twenty-first birthday arrived.
"Bah!" I said to myself. "I can always borrow again if I run short."
And I tried to dismiss the matter from my mind. I suppose, though,
there must have been a thin strain of caution, probably inherited from
a Scotch grandfather, underneath my foolishness, for I could not shake
off a feeling that I was drifting on to the rocks. I went to see Violet
Alexander, with a vague hope of getting sympathy, but was told she had
gone out. I called again and again, with the same result. Could it be
that she did not want to see me?
In this position, ashamed to make it up with my father, and not having
a single friend to whom I cared to turn, I did what I ought to have
done long ago. I went to Lincoln's Inn Fields to lay my case before the
family solicitors.
* * * * *
"Mr. Benedict is away, sir, but his son, Mr. Charles, will see you,"
was the reply to the announcement of my name, and I was ushered into
the presence of Mr. Charles Benedict. He did not correspond at all to
my idea of a family solicitor. He was faultlessly dressed, and did not
look much older than myself, but it did not take me long to discover
that his knowledge of town was as extensive and peculiar as Mr.
Weller's.
"Ah! Captain Wyngate," he repeated, when I mentioned the name of my
evil genius. "Tall, fine-looking man, with a grey moustache, isn't he?"
"Yes," I replied, in surprise. "Do you know him?"
"I should say that he was pretty well known," rejoined Mr. Charles
Benedict, with a smile. "But perhaps you had better go on with your
story."
Encouraged by his interest in my troubles, I went ahead and gave him
the main lines of the narrative, though I could not yet bring myself to
disclose all the details of my weakness. When I had answered his last
question he drew a long breath and said:--
"Well, Mr. Addington, I congratulate you!"
"What about?" I asked. "It seems to me I am in a pretty bad mess."
"So you are," he replied, cheerfully. "But I was congratulating you on
coming to us before it was too late. You have had a narrow escape. Did
you never suspect what kind of man Captain Wyngate is?"
"Not until those bills came in," I replied.
"The bills," remarked Mr. Benedict, "are a mere trifle. Captain Wyngate
is one of the most dangerous men in London. The police have had their
eye upon him for years, but he is so clever that they have never been
able to catch him in the act. He lives on inexperienced young men with
money."
"Like me, I suppose?"
"Yes, but you are not the first by a very long way. Your case is quite
in his best style. He has goodness knows how many accomplices, quite a
syndicate of sharks, and they have all sorts of shady people in their
pay. I have no doubt whatever that he knew all about your money affairs
and had a look at you at Cambridge without your knowledge; also that
he knew of your coming to London and had you tracked to the bar where
he made your acquaintance by upsetting your glass. Jackson is in the
syndicate, and you may be sure our friend the captain would have had a
good slice out of the three thousand pounds they reckoned to make out
of you; but I think we can stop their little game."
Needless to say, these disclosures staggered me considerably.
"Then Captain Wyngate is nothing but a swindler?" I asked.
"One of the worst type," answered the solicitor. "I don't think he
would stick at murder if it was worth while and could be done safely.
He was mixed up in the death of Charlie Byfleet, a rich young fellow
who went to Switzerland with him and was killed by falling down a
precipice. Many people suspected that Wyngate got possession of
Byfleet's money and papers and then pushed him over the cliff."
"That explains the nightmare!" I exclaimed, and I told my adviser of
the scene in Wyngate's bedroom.
"Yes; no doubt he has to do it over again in his sleep now and then,"
said Mr. Benedict, "but that's all the punishment he has had. He swore
it was an accident, and there was no evidence against him. He has been
keeping quiet since that affair, but he must have thought it had blown
over by this time as he has begun again on you. I suppose he kept you
to himself as long as he could?"
"He never took me to see anybody except Violet Alexander, the actress,"
I said.
"Oh, indeed!" ejaculated Mr. Benedict, smiling. "This is interesting.
Did you find her very agreeable?"
"Charming," I replied, ingenuously.
"Wasn't she a rather expensive acquaintance?"