A DESPERATE RESOLVE
It was nine o’clock next morning. Captain Verinder, with his hands
clasped behind his back and downcast eyes, was pacing the courtyard of
the hotel, which was ornamented with a double row of orange-trees and
myrtles in green tubs, and had one end roofed with trellis work
festooned with a vine, the leaves of which were now turning brown and
golden, and under which were ranged a number of rustic seats
interspersed with small marble-topped tables. Presently Luigi, for whom
his uncle had been waiting, made his appearance, looking very sallow
and cadaverous, while the dark half-circles under his eyes bore mute
witness to the sort of night he had spent.
“Don’t be afraid that I am about to reproach you for your insensate
folly,” began his uncle. “Your conscience will do that far more
effectually than any words of mine. Besides, I hold myself greatly to
blame for bringing you here in the first instance, and it is perhaps no
more than just that I should have to put up with the consequences
equally with yourself. I have been going into cash matters this morning
and find that when our hotel bill has been discharged, we shall have
about fifteen pounds left, all told. Now, if you can reveal to me by
what miracle of economy two people can contrive to spend a month in
Switzerland without exceeding that amount, I shall be much obliged to
you.”
“Of course it can’t be done,” said Luigi sulkily. “There’s nothing for
it but to go back home.”
“Oh, indeed. And in that case how, pray, shall we excuse ourselves to
Sir Gilbert Clare?”
“Why need he know that we have returned? Why can’t we lie quietly by in
London till the month has come to an end?”
“For a very simple reason,” returned the Captain drily. “Have you
forgotten that your grandfather looks to receive a letter from you
every few days while you are away? Now, supposing you were to send him
a note professedly written from Lausanne, or Geneva, with merely the
London postmark on it, what would happen then?”
“I had forgotten all about having to write to the old boy,” said Luigi
with a smothered imprecation.
“On the other hand,” resumed the Captain, “it would be madness to go to
him and frankly confess our sins. He would never forgive either of us,
and he would regard me, perhaps rightly, as being by far the bigger
sinner of the two.”
“In that case, what’s the best thing to do?”
“Upon my word, I haven’t the ghost of an idea. It’s a bad lookout all
round. Nowhere can I discern a way out of our quandary. But let’s to
breakfast with what appetite we may. A hungry stomach is never a good
counsellor.”
It seemed as if the Captain was destined to encounter people whom he
knew. As he was crossing the entrance-hall after breakfast he met a man
face to face whom he had not seen for some time. He was Mr. Henriques,
the money-lender, who, in days gone by, when Verinder was going gaily
down hill but had not yet reached the bottom, had more than once helped
him to tide over a temporary difficulty. Both the men now came to a
halt and each asked the other what had brought him there. The
money-lender was not one of those who have no eyes for a man because he
happens to have come down in the world; such men have their uses, as no
one knew better than he. More than once since his own collapse Verinder
had been enabled to introduce “business” to him, and had not been above
accepting a commission for doing so.
“Can you spare me ten minutes?” queried the Captain. “Willingly, if
you’ll wait till I’ve breakfasted,” replied the other. “I’ll join you
on the smoking-room balcony in half an hour.”
The Captain and Luigi were just in time to catch the midday train. They
both looked jubilant, and well they might, for Mr. Henriques had come
to their rescue. The Captain had introduced Luigi to him and had
frankly explained how they came to be “cornered.” (He had always found
it advisable to deal frankly with Mr. Henriques.) When the money-lender
had satisfied himself, which a few leading questions enabled him to do,
that Luigi was really the grandson of Sir Gilbert Clare of Withington
Chase, he made no difficulty about advancing him a hundred pounds on
the joint note of hand of himself and his uncle. For the time being
they were saved, and just then they did not permit any thought of the
future to mar their content.
It does not come within the scope of our design to accompany them in
their wanderings from place to place. It will be enough to say that
they made good use of their time and spent their money with a free
hand. Indeed, it was owing to the latter circumstances that they found
themselves back in London some days before they were due there, paucity
of funds having compelled them to cut short their tour, a fact which
they deemed it advisable to keep from the knowledge of Sir Gilbert.
Accordingly it was arranged that Luigi should quarter himself for a few
days on his uncle, and that the two should then travel down to the
Chase as if they had just come straight through from the Continent.
But on reaching the Captain’s rooms a very disagreeable surprise
awaited them. Mr. Henriques was dead, and the executors on whom
devolved the winding up of his affairs wrote, not merely to acquaint
Captain Verinder with that melancholy fact, but also to give him notice
that the bill at thirty days (the late Mr. H. had declined to have it
drawn for a longer period, but had hinted that a renewal might perhaps
be arranged) for one hundred and twenty pounds, principal and interest,
bearing the joint signatures of himself and Mr. Lewis Clare, would have
to be met in due course, and that, under the circumstances, any renewal
of it was out of the question.
Never were two men more dumfoundered. They had eaten their cake and
enjoyed it, and now the reckoning must be paid. They were no better off
than they had been at Brussels; indeed, they were worse off to the
extent of twenty pounds, and, now as then, their predicament was such
that, of all people in the world, Sir Gilbert was the last whose ears
it must be allowed to reach. It was indeed a sorry home-coming.
In the course of the following day Captain Verinder waited upon the
executors, but the only concession he could obtain from them was a
week’s grace beyond the date when the note would fall due.
“London swarms with money-lenders,” said Luigi; “surely, one or other
of them would do as Henriques did, and advance us enough money on our
joint signatures to pay off this confounded bill.”
“Very possibly that might be managed; but what then? We should merely
be putting off the evil day for a little while, and the worst of it
would be that the longer we succeeded in staving it off, the bigger
would be the reckoning when it did come. At present all we have to find
is a hundred and twenty pounds, but if we should succeed in negotiating
another bill, at the end of two or three months we should have a
hundred and fifty to meet, and supposing we were compelled to go on
renewing, a little later we should have to face a liability of a couple
of hundred pounds; and so it would go up by leaps and bounds in the way
of compound interest till some day our good friends the usurers would
put the screw on, and the inevitable crash would come. No; we must, if
possible, find some better way out of our difficulty than that. I’ll
sleep on it; perhaps an idea may come to me in the course of the
night.”
Next morning the Captain seemed in a thoughtful mood, and as Luigi was
in no humour for talking, breakfast passed almost in silence. When it
had come to an end, and the equipage had been removed, the elder man
said: “Draw up that easy chair to the window, and light a weed. I have
something to say to you.”
As soon as his own meerschaum and Luigi’s cigar were well under way, he
resumed: “You remember that day about which you spoke to me while we
were abroad, when, Mr. Everard Lisle being away on business for your
grandfather, the old gentleman called you into his study and got you to
write one or two letters for him?”
Luigi nodded.
“Then, you will remember telling me that while you were there a clerk
came down from London, bringing with him a parcel of American bonds,
for which your grandfather, after having examined and counted them,
gave the man a receipt, and that, as soon as the clerk had gone, he
asked you to unlock the door of the strong room which opens out of his
study, and deposit the bonds in question in a certain drawer marked B.
You also said, if I mistake not, that that was the first time you had
set foot inside the strong room.”
“And the last,” interposed Luigi.
“If I recollect rightly, the bonds in question were endorsed ‘Missouri
and Eastern Union Preference.’”
“That is so.”
“That they are a good sound stock may be taken for granted, otherwise
your grandfather would not have invested so largely in them. I see by
this morning’s newspaper that yesterday they were quoted at from 53 to
53-5/8.”
“Yes—what then?” demanded Luigi blankly. He could not imagine what his
uncle was driving at.
“Merely this, dear boy—that if we could by any means contrive to annex
a few of the bonds in question, a way out of our difficulty would at
once be opened for us.”
The silence that ensued lasted for some minutes. The Captain wanted
what he had said to sink into his nephew’s mind. It was a daring
suggestion, but, after all, not nearly so audacious as that other
suggestion, which had emanated from the same source, that Luigi should
personate Sir Gilbert Clare’s dead grandson. That suggestion had borne
practical fruit, had, in fact, developed into a splendid success. Why
should not this one prove equally as successful?
“A very ingenious suggestion indeed, uncle,” said Luigi at length; “but
how do you propose to carry it into effect? You talk as if I had in my
possession a duplicate key of the strong room.”
“That is a mere detail,” responded the Captain airily, “which I have
not yet had time to consider.”
“Assuming for the moment that we succeed in obtaining possession of the
bonds, and that their loss is discovered, what then?
“Yes, what then? Why should suspicion fall upon you? Should we decide
to carry out the affair, it would have to be in such a way as to leave
no possible link which would serve to connect you or me with the
missing documents. Besides, I think it not unlikely that some long time
would elapse before the bonds would be missed. Your grandfather has
apparently bought the stock as a permanent investment, and if such be
the case, no reason will exist for him to go through the parcel a
second time in order to satisfy himself that none of them have been
abstracted. Months, nay years, might elapse without the loss being
discovered; it is even possible that Sir Gilbert might die in ignorance
thereof. It would be singular, would it not, if the bonds should
ultimately come to you as his heir? Looked at from that point of view,
you would merely be obtaining an advance on your own property.”
“Let us suppose once more,” persisted Luigi. “The bonds are sold, let
us say; their loss is discovered; as a consequence, a hue-and-cry is
set afoot and the missing numbers advertised. In that case what is to
prevent their being traced back to the first vendor of them after
their—hem! abstraction?”
The Captain smiled as he shook the ash out of his meerschaum. “The
answer to that is very simple,” he said. “I shall know how to put the
bonds on the market through such a channel as will render it an
impossibility for them ever to be traced back.”
Three days later uncle and nephew, attired in their travelling suits as
if fresh from their journey across the Channel, arrived at Withington
Chase. Captain Verinder felt it was due to Sir Gilbert that he should
personally give him back the young Telemachus who for the past four
weeks had been entrusted to his charge.
By this time he and Luigi had settled all the details of their plot, as
far as it was possible for them to do so beforehand, and away from the
spot.