THE MYSTERY OF THE THIRD MAN.
That my knowledge of his identity would come to him as a surprise, I
was tolerably sure; and, in springing it thus suddenly upon him, I
hoped to gather by his face, which I was watching narrowly meanwhile,
whether he were moved by anger or by dismay.
The result was a fiasco, a fizzle, an abject failure. Either he was the
most consummate of actors, or, as is more likely, I the most consummate
of fools; for he looked at me at first with bewilderment, and then with
amusement, and finally burst into a hearty laugh.
"So _that's_ who you think I am, is it?" he chuckled. "I saw by that
speaking countenance of yours that you were hatching an egg (you are an
Irishman, aren't you? so you won't mind my mixing my metaphors), but I
didn't expect so weird a fowl as this."
He took that morning's paper from his pocket, and holding it open
before me, pointed to a paragraph, which ran as follows:
"The freedom of the City of Carlisle will to-day, at noon, be conferred
upon Mr. John Carleton, the eminent inventor, who was born in that
city, and has devoted a large portion of the fortune he amassed in
America to improving the homes of the poor in the place of his birth.
Miss Clara Carleton and her niece, Miss Kate Carleton, have left 5,
Taunton Square, W., for Homburg, where Mr. Carleton will shortly join
them."
"I admit," commented the Dumpling ironically, "that the fact of Mr.
Carleton devoting a portion of his fortune to improving the homes
of the poor, points suspiciously to me. How are you to be sure, Mr.
Rissler, that I didn't send that paragraph myself to the newspaper,
in the expectation of meeting you here, and, by showing it to you, to
put you off the scent? And the portrait! Stop a minute--there is a
portrait. It's in another part of the paper. Ah! here it is."
The portrait, which was inscribed "John Carleton, Esq., the eminent
inventor and philanthropist," was that of a flat-foreheaded,
clean-shaven man, absolutely bald, and so shrunken and fleshless of
face as to seem all skin and bone. The striking resemblance to a skull,
caused by his singular fleshlessness, was heightened by the fact that
he wore huge glasses of great magnifying power, out of which his hollow
eyes loomed cavernously.
"It's like me, isn't it?" said the Dumpling. "But then _you_ are not
to be deceived by anything of that sort, are you? It may dupe the
police, but _you_ will see at a glance that that portrait is only
myself, cleverly got up to look like somebody else. And when you read
in to-morrow's papers an account of the ceremony at Carlisle--and, by
the bye," pulling out his watch, "it's just about taking place now--you
will say to yourself, 'What a thing it is to be a detective! Here's
all this hullaballoo about the conferring of the freedom of the City
of Carlisle upon Mr. John Carleton at noon yesterday; and all the time
_I_ could have told them--if they'd only asked me, which for some
inexplicable reason they didn't--that the real John Carleton was at 18,
Cripps Court, Shadwell.'"
Then the bantering tone died out of his voice.
"I've chaffed you a bit about the mistake, Mr. Rissler, but it was
a very natural mistake to fall into," he said. "My coming to No. 5,
Taunton Square, twice in a night, my shadowing it beforehand, my
knowing all about it--no, I can't see, as I say, that you are very much
to blame, after all. It is curious that you should have thought me to
be John Carleton when, if there is _one man_ in all the world with whom
I would not, for all the world can offer, change places, that _one_ man
is John Carleton.
"When I tell you the story of my life, as I hope I shall one day,
you will understand and appreciate--but not till then--my reason for
speaking as I do. But now to talk of other matters. You have thought
over what I said to you the other night?"
"I have," I answered.
"And you are going to throw in your lot with us?"
"No."
"Rissler," he said gravely, "don't compel me to kill you, as kill you I
must under certain circumstances. There is blood on my hands already,
and more blood on my hands there must, of necessity, be before my
work is done; but, of all men in the world, you are the one man whom I
am most anxious to spare. You must see for yourself that you know too
much, that you are too dangerous to be left at large, except as one of
us. I have shown my heart, my hopes, my dreams, to you, as I have shown
them to no other man. Can I do nothing, say nothing, to influence you?
You feel as I do about the poor, as witness the fact of what you have
done for Wright and his family. What moved you to do that? What brought
you here, in Wright's house, at all?"
He stopped, as if expecting an answer; so, briefly as possible, I told
him of the impression that had been made upon me by his words about the
poor, and that, for the time, at least, I had thrown up my detective
work, in order to devote myself to doing what lay in my power to
alleviate the sufferings of my fellow-creatures.
He was genuinely moved, and when he inquired how I came to know of
Wright, and I told him of my system of making inquiries at a small
shop, in the very poorest district, he put a hand upon my shoulder,
and said excitedly:
"Rissler, you have no choice in this matter. God has called you to the
task, and you may not say Him nay. It is only a question of time. Two
days--only two days ago, you were against us. You announced yourself
as my enemy, as one who was set upon hunting me down. Now you tell me
of your own accord--and I believe you--that you have abandoned this
ignoble work of hunting down a fellow-creature who, whether his methods
be right or wrong in your eyes, is at least consumed with a passionate
desire to spend and to sacrifice everything he has, life itself, if
necessary, to succour and to help the poor and the oppressed.
"Two days ago, Rissler, as I say, you were against us. To-day you are
against us no more. Two days ago you cared nothing for the sufferings
of the poor, you gave no thought to them. To-day you are here amongst
them, ministering to them with your own hand. If two days have wrought
this change in you, what change may not another two days work? Another
two days may see you working with us, one of us, leading the Labour
hosts in this battle of the Lord.
"Now, listen to me. I'll be frank with you, and tell you that from
the first moment I saw you something within me warned me to beware of
you, and cried out, 'Kill! kill! kill!' That night in the wine cellar,
to-day in this squalid room, I should, had I followed my impulses, have
strangled you without mercy, without remorse, and without a thought.
Why don't I kill you? Why do I spend time which I can't afford to
spend? Why do I run risks which I never ought to run, in talking to
you, in explaining things to you, in trying to persuade you to join us?
"I will tell you. It is because God has revealed to me that you are
destined to play a great part in the history of this rising. It was
by no chance that you came that night to the opium den. It was by no
chance, it was not entirely by your resourcefulness and skill, that you
escaped with your life. It was no chance which drew you to the house in
Taunton Square, no chance which sent you here to Cripps Court.
"The part you are to play, God has not yet revealed to me; but I will
tell you what I believe that part to be. The army I command may be
counted by many millions, but leader there is only one--myself. And
the battle--which shall be called Armageddon--the battle which shall
set Labour upon the throne as Lord and Ruler of this land--that battle
approaches, and in that battle I shall fall. If I fall, all falls,
unless God raise up a second in command who shall be the leader of the
people after I am gone. That leader I believe you are marked out to
be. That is why I dare not kill you; that is why I am going to do the
maddest thing a sane man ever did.
"Of my own will I set you free to go from here unharmed. As yet you
are not with us. As yet God has not made known His will to you. As
yet, though I have twice appealed to you to throw in your lot with
us, you have resisted my entreaty. But I am not dismayed. Once again
I shall come to you. Once again I shall appeal to you, and that third
time I shall give you such assured proof of the triumph of our cause,
that after that third time I shall need to appeal to you no more. The
victory will be won. Our cause, the people's cause, God's cause, you
will, on that third appeal, espouse. Of my own accord I set you free."
As he spoke these last words, he stooped to unfasten my bonds,
and, in doing so, looked me for a moment in the eyes. Once again a
dream-tableau seemed to shape itself before me.
I saw myself--as one might see another person--in some dark place
underground. By my side stood the Dumpling, and far back in the shadow
was another man.
In my dream I could not see the face of the third man. I could see
the Dumpling's face, and upon it was a look of fiendish triumph as he
pointed me to the third man. But I could see my own face, and on my own
face, as it was turned to the face of the third man, was such a look of
incredulous horror as, waking or dreaming, I shall never see upon human
face again.
Then the dream passed. I was free of my bonds, and the Dumpling was
holding open the door.
"Good-bye, Rissler!" he said. "We shall meet again and soon; and that
meeting will mean great things for both of us."
Without a word, without so much as a "Thank you" or a "Good day,"
I passed out, like one who walks in his sleep. I could think of
nothing save the unseen face of the third man in my dream, and of the
incredulous horror which had been upon my own face on realising who
that third man was.