fireplace, "I shall not attempt to conceal from you my apprehensions
regarding the fate of my unfortunate brother. I fear that he is no
more, and that a tragic fate has overtaken him. That, however, is now
past and gone. It is irremediable, and the question that at present
lies upon us is that of my own danger. Tell me, do you suppose it
likely that the agents who pursued my brother have any knowledge of my
being established in this place?"
"That I cannot tell you," said Griscombe, "unless, indeed, the
mysterious jack-straw player who penetrated into my office may have
been in search of such information. I confess I cannot account in any
other way for his coming to me."
"It may be so," said Mr. Desmond, thoughtfully. "At any rate, I shall
immediately quit this place where I now live, and shall seek for an
asylum in some still more retired and undiscoverable locality. Meantime
let us examine into the safety of the treasure which you have so
faithfully transported thither."
And, as he concluded his speech, he arose, and crossing the room to
a handsome mahogany escritoire, and opening a secret drawer therein,
brought thence a small steel key, the fellow to that with which his
unfortunate brother had once before opened the casket in Griscombe's
presence. This he applied to the lock, gave it a turn, and threw back
the lid.
The piercing and terrible shriek which instantly succeeded the action
struck through Griscombe's brain like a dagger. The next moment he
beheld his host stagger back, clutching at the empty air, and at last
fall into a dishevelled heap into the arm-chair behind him, where he
lay white and shrunken together as though shrivelled up to one-half his
former size and bulk by a vision that had just blasted his sight.
So unexpected was this conclusion, and so terrifying, that Griscombe
sat as though stupefied. At last he arose, hardly conscious of what
he was doing, and the next moment found himself gazing down into the
interior depths of the open casket, like one in a dream.
There before him he beheld a spectacle the most dreadful that ever
he had beheld. His sight appeared to him to swim as though through a
transparent fluid, his brain expanded with a fantastic volatility, and
his soul fluttered, as it were, upon his lips. For there before him
lay, entirely surrounded by lamb's wool as white as snow, a still,
calm face, as transparent as wax,--the immobile face of the first Mr.
Desmond, now infinitely terrible in its image of eternal sleep. As
though in a malign mockery, the now worthless jewels--about which the
possessor had once been so infinitely concerned--had been poured out
carelessly upon the motionless lineaments. A precious diamond, like a
tear, reposed upon the transparent cheek, and a ruby of inestimable
value clung to the pallid and sphinx-like lips. Across the forehead was
stretched a fillet of linen; and upon it were inscribed in letters as
black as ink the two ominous words--
[Illustration]
How long Griscombe stood like one entranced, gazing at the dreadful
spectacle before him, he could never tell; but, when at last he turned,
it was to behold that Mr. Desmond had arisen from his seat, and that he
was now clutching to the mantel-shelf as he stood leaning against it,
his body heaving and his whole frame convulsed with the vehemence of
the passion that racked every joint and bone. "God, man!" he cried at
last in a hoarse and raucous voice, and without turning his face: "shut
the box lid!"--and Griscombe obeyed with stiff and nerveless fingers
that strangely disregarded the commands of his will.
[Illustration: "_YOU NEXT!_"]
At last the unhappy man, having regained some control over the emotions
that convulsed him, and heaving a profound sigh as though from the
bottom of his soul, turned once more, and exhibited to the young
lawyer a countenance from which every vestige of color had departed,
and in whose dull and leaden eyes and pinched and shrivelled features
it was well-nigh impossible to recognize the genteel and complacent
host of a few moments before. "You have," said he, in hollow tones,
"just delivered to me my death-warrant. In how dreadful a form it was
served upon me, you yourself have beheld. My sins have overtaken me,
as my poor brother's have overtaken him. They may perhaps have been
of an unusually heinous character; but how great is my punishment! I
call upon you to declare, even if our hands were ensanguined with the
blood of a prince of India, and if the spouse of an Oriental king were
executed at our commands, and even if we were partakers in our reward
as in our crime, is not the fate that has overtaken us altogether too
enormous for our deserts?"
"As to that," cried Griscombe, "Heaven is your judge, and not I. As for
me, I begin to perceive a glimmer of light through these mysteries that
have been gathering about me during these last few days, and I declare
to you that I will have no more concern either in you or in your
secrets. How is it possible," he exclaimed, "that I have come to be the
partaker in the consequences of that rapine and of murder in which you
and your brother were doubtless one time so guilty? No: I will have no
more to do with you!"
"And would you," cried the other, "desert me in such extremity as this?
Then at least have some pity upon my innocent daughter. We live a life
in this place without a friend or an intimate,--almost, I may say,
without an acquaintance. To whom am I to confide her in a time of such
mortal danger as this? Am I to take her with me in my flight? And what
if my fate overtakes me upon such a journey,--what, then, would become
of her?"
Upon this plea Griscombe stood for awhile with downcast eyes, every
shadow of expression banished from his countenance. As with an inner
vision he beheld Miss Desmond as he had seen her but a little while
before,--innocent, beautiful, radiantly unconscious of the doom that
was about to fall upon the house--and his heart was wrung at the
thought of such hideous misfortunes falling upon her sinless life.
"Sir," he said at last, "your appeal has reached me. What is it you
would have me to do? For your daughter's sake I will assist you in so
far as my abilities may extend."
"I would have you," said the miserable man, "convey my daughter, upon
your return to New York, in the post-chaise which brought you hither.
With her I will send a quantity of jewels similar to those which you
brought to me. These I will place in a strong box, and that again in
a portmanteau of such a convenient size that you can easily take it
into the post-chaise with you. These jewels comprise a large part of
my fortune; and with them my daughter, should she be called upon to be
separated forever from her unhappy father, can easily live in affluence
and luxury. She, together with this treasure, you are to carry to a
M. de Troinville, who has for a long while been the agent both of my
brother and of myself, and who is under considerable obligation to us.
With you I shall send to that gentleman a letter of full instruction;
and, as soon as you have delivered that and my daughter into his
hands, your responsibility shall be at an end, and you will have the
satisfaction of knowing that you have relieved the anxiety of one who
has probably only a day or maybe a few hours to live, and who would
otherwise have found his last moments upon earth to have been blighted."
"So be it," said Griscombe, after a moment or two of consideration. "I
accept the commission."
"Sir," said Mr. Desmond, "you have won the eternal gratitude of the
most miserable man upon the earth." And, as he spoke, he made as though
he would have embraced our hero.
"Nay," said Griscombe, "I do not choose to accept your caresses. You
owe me no gratitude; for, upon my word, I declare that what I do is
only for the sake of your daughter, and that, except for her, I would
leave you to a fate which in no wise concerns me, and which, from your
own confession, you appear in no small degree to have merited. Prepare
your letter to M. de Troinville; and in the mean time, by your leave, I
will wait in some other apartment of your house than this."
"You are," said Mr. Desmond, "neither polite nor sympathetic. But
let it pass. I find myself obliged to accept your services, however
unwillingly they may have been offered."
* * * * *
Little remains to be said concerning this part of our narrative,
excepting that about ten o'clock Griscombe was summoned to depart upon
his return to New York, and that he found the post-chaise waiting in
front of the house, with the young lady and the portmanteau already
ensconced within. As our hero stepped into the conveyance, Mr. Desmond
gave him the letter of introduction to M. de Troinville, and at the
same time thrust upon him a leathern bag containing a hundred pieces
of gold valued at twenty dollars each, declaring that he had employed
him as his attorney, and that this was his fee. Griscombe would gladly
have rejected the stipend, could he have done so without betraying to
the unconscious young lady the portentous nature of the affair that
had overwhelmed them all. As it was, he found himself obliged, however
unwillingly, to accept the gratuity thus thrust upon him.
HERE FOLLOWS THE FOURTH CHAPTER
CHAPTER FOUR
In which is related the _Remarkable_ REQUEST of the LAWYER'S _Fourth_
CLIENT.
Even if our hero had never again beheld Miss Desmond, he might easily
have retained her in his memory for years afterward as a bright and
radiant vision of that otherwise gloomy and portentous episode of
his life. As it was, what with his having been intrusted with the
guardianship of so beautiful a creature, what with his pity for her
unconsciousness of the dreadful fate that had overtaken her father,
and what with the necessity he was under of disguising from her the
terrible events that had occurred, and of answering in kind the sallies
of the innocent and entertaining gayety that burst from her continually
during their journey,--what with all these, and the warmth and fragrant
charm of her presence so close to him in the narrow confines of the
post-chaise, his heart was possessed to its inmost fibres with so
consuming an ardor of pity and tenderness that he could gladly have
laid down his life for her sake.
It was at two o'clock of an afternoon upon the last stage of their
journey that they stopped for a dinner at the tavern in Newark, N.J.,
almost, so to speak, in sight of their destination. It was excessively
cold; and a light snow had begun to fall from the gray and leaden
sky, giving promise of an early night. A cheerful fire of hickory
wood burned in the fire-place, diffusing a grateful warmth throughout
the apartment; and in the pleasure of its heat Miss Desmond yielded
herself to an extreme relaxation of spirits. She rallied Griscombe upon
the diffidence he had exhibited upon their first introduction. She
congratulated him with a mock seriousness upon his approaching release
from his duties as a squire of dames. Her father had given her to
believe that he would follow her immediately to New York, accordingly,
reminding Griscombe that the next day would be Christmas, she invited
him to come to M. de Troinville's to dine with them. Nor could
Griscombe listen to her innocent prattle without experiencing such an
overmastering pity for her unconsciousness of the tragic fate that had
overtaken her father and for her own hapless condition, that it was
well-nigh impossible for him to answer her sallies with raillery of a
like sort. However, he continued to act his part with such skill of
performance that his companion never once suspected with what effort
he composed the words he uttered.
[Illustration: "_IT WAS AT THIS JUNCTURE ... THAT AN APOLOGETIC KNOCK
FELL UPON THE DOOR_"]
It was at this juncture, fraught with such pathetic emotions to our
hero, that an apologetic knock fell upon the door; and the next
moment, as in answer to his own summons, a little old gentleman of
extraordinary appearance entered the room. A long white beard half
concealed his face, which was of a yellow-brown complexion, and
entirely covered with a multitude of minute wrinkles. His eyes,
piercing and black, sparkled like those of a serpent beneath his
overhanging eyebrows.
"My dear young gentleman and my dear young lady," he began in a thin,
high voice, "learning at the bar that you had a good fire in this room,
I ventured to intrude myself upon you with perhaps as strange a request
as you ever heard in all of your life."
At the very first appearance of the stranger--who, somehow, in his
singularly Oriental appearance suggested the jack-straw player of a few
days before--a strange presentiment of evil began to take possession
of Griscombe's mind. Nor were his apprehensions lessened as the old
gentleman, resuming his speech, continued as follows: "I am, as you
may observe, my dear young gentleman and my dear young lady, extremely
old; and I am obliged to confess to the possession of certain
follies of which I am now entirely unable to rid myself. Fortunately
for myself, I am excessively rich, and so am perfectly well able to
indulge those whims, however absurd, that have now grown altogether a
part of my nature, and which, in one so old as myself, can never hope
to be eradicated. Learning that you, my dear young gentleman, were
an attorney-at-law, I determined to approach you as a client, and to
purchase of you a small portion of your no doubt extremely valuable
time." Upon this he drew from beneath his cloak a leathern purse full
of money, which he set upon the table. "In this," he continued, "are a
hundred pieces of gold valued at twenty dollars each. I offer it to you
as a retaining fee, and I venture to say that few lawyers of your age
have ever received so much at a time from a single client."
"And what," cried Griscombe, with a voice he could scarcely
command,--"and what is it you desire of me?"
"I hardly know," said the old man, "how to prefer the extraordinary
request that I have to offer. You must know that I am inordinately fond
of the game of tit-tat-toe; and my object is to purchase one half-hour
of your valuable time, my dear young gentleman, so that I may indulge
myself in my favorite pastime."
At these extraordinary words, and at the entire seriousness of the
speaker, the young lady burst into an irrepressible fit of laughter,
which she found it altogether impossible to control. But upon Griscombe
the effect was entirely different. Those vague and alarming suggestions
that had already begun to take possession of him leaped at once into
positive reality. He had for safety left the portmanteau with its
precious contents in the adjoining bedroom, which he had just used as
a dressing-chamber, and he instantly perceived, under the innocent
request of the old gentleman with the white beard, the most sinister
and malignant designs upon it. He sprung to his feet, as though
stung by the lash of a fury. "You villain," he cried in a hoarse and
straining voice, "I know what are your designs; and but for this young
lady, and my desire to conceal from her your ominous purposes, I would
fling you at once out of the window. Begone, lest I find it impossible
to restrain myself!"
These words were uttered with a paroxysm of passion such as the young
lady was entirely unable to account for. Never before had she beheld
our hero exhibit anything but the utmost delicacy and gentleness of
manner; and now, not in the least understanding the reason for his
fury, she gazed upon him with astonishment, in which terror was almost
the entire component part. These emotions, however, gradually gave
place to an increasing and generous indignation at what she considered
the unmerited violence exhibited by a young man against another old
enough to be his grandsire.
"Upon my word, Mr. Griscombe," she cried indignantly, "I profess I
am entirely at a loss to understand your anger against this poor old
gentleman. What, may I ask, is the reason of your excessive fury at so
harmless a request as that which he has proffered?"
"Madame," exclaimed Griscombe, vehemently, "I cannot explain it to you."
"I confess," she cried with still more heat than before, "I cannot
understand your violence, unless it is that you fear to appear
ridiculous by indulging this poor old gentleman in his innocent
whim." And then, upon our hero's continued silence, she added: "I
could not have believed it possible that you could have exhibited so
much impatience and anger at so slight a cause. My opinion of you
is altogether altered from what it was; nor can I again recover my
original favorable impression unless you offer such reparation as lies
in your power by accepting the fee which has been so generously offered
you, and by sitting down and gratifying your client with the game of
tit-tat-toe he has requested. Should you decline such reparation, I
can, as I say, never entertain again for you the regard I have until
now experienced."
"Indeed," said the old man, in a gentle voice, but with a smile in
which Griscombe read the most malignant and sinister suggestion, "if
the young gentleman apprehends any malevolent designs upon my part, he
has only to declare what he suspects; and I will go directly away. If,
however, he has nothing with which to accuse me, I, too, shall insist
upon it that he, by way of a penance, shall indulge me with my little
game."
Poor Griscombe stood overwhelmed with a multitude of emotions. One
thing alone was clear to his mind: he must protect his innocent and
precious charge from all knowledge of what had now doubtless befallen
her unhappy father. It were better that those emissaries of evil
that had beset him should fulfil their every purpose--even to the
last--rather than that she should suffer. He must be dumb, and allow
them to conclude their dreadful work. After all, he could easily inform
M. de Troinville before the fatal portmanteau should be opened. "I will
obey you if you command me, madame," he cried; "but pray, pray spare
me this!" And, as he spoke, he fixed upon Miss Desmond a look of such
agonizing appeal that she could not but have been moved by it, had
she not been blinded by her own imperiousness of purpose. As it was,
she only hardened her face into a still more immovable expression of
determination. Where-upon, finding her not to be shaken, our hero sank
into rather than sat down upon the chair beside him.
The old gentleman with the beard, having thus gained his point, beamed
with the utmost cheerfulness of expression, and, advancing with
alacrity, pushed aside the dinner plates, and immediately assumed a
position opposite his unwilling opponent, and between him and the
door of the room where his precious portmanteau lay hidden. Having
thus established himself, the old gentleman drew from a capacious
pocket a sandalwood box inlaid with arabesque figures of gold and
mother-of-pearl. Opening this box, he displayed, to the profound
astonishment of at least one of his companions, an exquisitely wrought
tablet of mother-of-pearl and gold, pierced with one-and-eighty
holes arranged in a square of nine. Opening a slide in the side of
the tablet, he thence emptied from a receptacle upon the table five
curiously wrought pins of gold, and a like number of silver. Handing
the five pins of the more precious metal to Griscombe and reserving
for himself the five pegs of silver, the old gentleman immediately
explained to his listeners the simple process of the game upon which
he proposed to embark. Each player in turn was to thrust a pin into
a hole in the tablet, and he who could so far escape his opponent's
interference as to arrange three of the five pins in a line should,
upon each occurrence thereof, have scored a point in the game. Having
completed these easy instructions, he immediately invited Griscombe
to open the play, which he upon his part entered upon with every
appearance of entire enjoyment and satisfaction.
At any time Griscombe would have been no match for the extraordinary
skill of his opponent; but, as it was, he was so torn and distracted
by a multitude of emotions that he occasionally knew not what he was
doing or what he beheld. His imagination framed the most ominous images
of what was going forward in the bedroom beyond; and he lost again and
again, while at times his hands trembled so that he could hardly place
the pin in its respective hole. Now and then his hearing, strung to an
unnatural intensity of key, seemed to detect smothered sounds from the
adjoining room; and at such times the ivory tablet appeared to vanish
from his sight, and the sweat started from every pore.
But, in spite of all he suffered, he took care never to permit the
young lady to perceive the agony under which he labored. The frequent
mistakes of which he was guilty and the extreme inadequacy with which
he played the game she attributed to mortification or to obstinacy. At
last, at some more preposterous blunder, she could contain her patience
no longer. "Why do you not place your pin in that hole, Mr. Griscombe?"
she cried: "it will score you a point," And Griscombe, obeying, found
the next instant that three of his pins stood in a line.
At that moment a faint whistle sounded from without; and the old
gentleman, as though in answer to a signal, declared his desire for the
game to be entirely appeased. Withdrawing the pins from the tablet, he
replaced them in their receptacle, replaced the tablet itself in the
box and shut the lid with a snap. "Madame," he said, "I should have
played with you instead of with our young gentleman here; for, indeed,
he exhibits no great aptitude for the game." Then addressing Griscombe
with a double meaning that set every nerve of his victim to quivering,
"Nevertheless, young sir," he observed, "you have afforded me a great
deal of entertainment, and I protest that you have entirely earned the
fee which you have pocketed." Thereupon he incontinently departed,
leaving the young lady and our hero to digest, each in his or her own
way, the events that had just transpired.
* * * * *
So concludes this part of the narrative, with only this to add--that,
had Griscombe had no one to think of but himself, he would at once have
torn open the fatal travelling-case, and so have satisfied himself as
to the nature of its contents. As it was, for the sake of his charge,
who had in so short a time grown so infinitely dear to him, he would
rather have had his right hand struck off than have betrayed his
terrible apprehensions to her innocent ears. Accordingly, he still
wrapped himself in his martyrdom of silence, though he would rather
have sat facing a living adder than that ominous portmanteau upon the
front seat of the post-chaise.
HERE FOLLOWS THE FIFTH CHAPTER
CHAPTER FIVE
The CONCLUSION of the STORY of the _young_ LAWYER and his _Four_
CLIENTS.
The snow, which had begun falling about noon, was, by the time the
two travellers reached the ferry to New York, descending in such
impenetrable sheets as entirely to conceal the further shore from
Paulus Hook. Indeed, it required no little persuasion upon the part
of our hero and the promise of a very heavy bribe to induce the negro
ferryman to transport them across the river upon so forbidding a night.
And so slow was their transit and so doubtful their course that the
night was pretty far advanced before they reached New York.
The town lay perfectly silent, smothered in a blanket of soundless
white, upon which the ceaseless clouds of snow fell noiselessly out
of the inky sky above. Indeed, the drifts were become so deep that
Griscombe entertained very considerable doubts as to how he should
convey Miss Desmond and the now tragic contents of the portmanteau to
their final destination.
Accordingly, it was with the feeling of the utmost relief that, upon
quitting the ferry-boat, he was met by a negro, who told him that M. de
Troinville had been already informed of their coming, and that, because
of the storm, a conveyance had been waiting at the ferry-house ever
since early in the evening to transport the young lady and her baggage
to that gentleman's house.