Guy Deverell at Slowton.
"Come, sir, I have a right to know it--have you not an object in fooling
me?" said General Lennox, relapsing all on a sudden into his ferocious
vein.
"In telling you the truth, sir, I _have_ an object, perhaps--but seeing
that it _is_ the truth, and concerns you so nearly, you need not trouble
yourself about _my_ object," answered Varbarriere, with more
self-command than was to have been expected.
"I _will_ test it, sir. I will try you," said the General, sternly.
"By -- -- I'll sift it to the bottom."
"So you ought, sir; that's what I mean to help you to," said
Varbarriere.
"How, sir?--say _how_, and by Heaven, sir, I'll shoot him like a dog."
"The way to do it I've considered. I shall place you _probably_ in
possession of such proof as will thoroughly convince you."
"Thank you, sir, go on."
"I shall be at Marlowe to-morrow--you must arrive late--on no account
earlier than half-past twelve. I will arrange to have you admitted by
the glass door--through the conservatory. Don't bring your vehicle
beyond the bridge, and leave your luggage at the Marlowe Arms. The
object, sir, is this," said Varbarriere, with deliberate emphasis,
observing that the General's grim countenance did not look as
apprehensive as he wished, "that your arrival shall be unsuspected. No
one must know anything of it except myself and another, until you shall
have reached your room. Do you see?"
"Thanks, sir--yes," answered the General, looking as unsatisfactorily as
before.
"There are two recesses with shelves--one to the right, the other to the
left of the bed's head as you look from the door. The secret entrance I
have mentioned lies through that at the right. You must not permit any
alarm which may be intended to reach Sir Jekyl. Secure the door, and do
you sit up and watch. There's a way of securing the secret door from the
inside--which I'll explain--that would _prevent_ his entrance--don't
allow it. The whole--pardon me, sir--_intrigue_ will in that case be
disclosed without the possibility of a prevarication. You have followed
me, I hope, distinctly."
"I--I'm a little flurried, I believe, sir; I have to apologise. I'll ask
you, by-and-by, to repeat it. I think I should like to be alone, sir.
She wrote me a letter, sir--I wish I had died when I got it."
When Varbarriere looked at him, he saw that the old East Indian was
crying.
"Sir, I grieve with you," said Varbarriere, funereally. "You can command
my presence whenever you please to send for me. I shall remain in this
house. It will be absolutely necessary, of course, that you should see
me again."
"Thank you, sir. I know--I'm sure you mean kindly--but God only knows
all it is."
He had shaken his hand very affectionately, without any meaning--without
knowing that he had done so.
Varbarriere said--
"Don't give way, sir, too much. If there is this sort of misfortune, it
is much better discovered--_much_ better. You'll think so just now.
You'll view it quite differently in the morning. Call for me the moment
you want me--farewell, sir."
So Varbarriere was conducted to his bed-room, and made, beside his
toilet, conscientious inquiries about his late dinner, which was in an
advanced state of preparation; and when he went down to partake of it,
he had wonderfully recovered the interview with General Lennox.
Notwithstanding, however, he drank two glasses of sherry, contrary to
gastronomic laws, before beginning. Then, however, he made, even for
him, a very good dinner.
He could not help wondering what a prodigious fuss the poor old fogey
made about this little affair. He could not enter the least into his
state of mind. She was a fine woman, no doubt; but there were others--no
stint--and he had been married quite long enough to sober and acquire an
appetite for liberty.
What was the matter with the old fellow? But that it was insufferably
comical, he could almost find it in his heart to pity him.
Once or twice as he smoked his cigar he could not forbear shaking with
laughter, the old Philander's pathetics struck him so sardonically.
I really think the state of that old gentleman, who certainly had
attained to years of philosophy, was rather serious. That is, I dare say
that a competent medical man with his case under observation at that
moment would have pronounced him on the verge either of a fit or of
insanity.
When Varbarriere had left the room, General Lennox threw himself on the
red damask sofa, which smelled powerfully of yesterday's swell bagman's
tobacco, never perceiving that stale fragrance, nor the thinness of the
cushion which made the ribs and vertebræ of the couch unpleasantly
perceptible beneath. Then, with his knees doubled up, and the "Times"
newspaper over his face, he wept, and moaned, and uttered such plaintive
and hideous maunderings as would do nobody good to hear of.
A variety of wise impulses visited him. One was to start instantaneously
for Marlowe and fight Sir Jekyl that night by candlelight; another, to
write to his wife for the last time as his wife--an eternal
farewell--which perhaps would have been highly absurd, and affecting at
the same time.
About two hours after Varbarriere's departure for dinner, he sent for
that gentleman, and they had another, a longer, and a more collected
interview--if not a happier one.
The result was, that Varbarriere's advice prevailed, as one might easily
foresee, having a patient so utterly incompetent to advise himself.
The attorney, having shaken hands with Monsieur Varbarriere, and watched
from the platform the gradual disappearance of the train that carried
him from the purlieus of Slowton, with an expression of face plaintive
as that with which Dido on the wild sea banks beheld the receding
galleys of Æneas, loitered back again dolorously to the hostelry.
He arrived at the door exactly in time to witness the descent of Guy
Deverell from his chaise. I think he would have preferred not meeting
him, it would have saved him a few boring questions; but it was by no
means a case for concealing himself. He therefore met him with a
melancholy frankness on the steps.
The young man recognised him.
"Mr. Rumsey?--How do you do? Is my uncle here?"
"He left by the last train. I hope I see you well, sir."
"Gone? and where to?"
"He did not tell me." That was true, but the attorney had seen his
valise labelled "Chester" by his direction. "He went by the London
train, but he said he would be back to-morrow. Can _I_ do anything? Your
arrival was not expected."
"Thank you. I think not. It was just a word with my uncle I wished. You
say he will be here again in the morning?"
"Yes, so he said. I'm waiting to see him."
"Then I can't fail to meet him if I remain." The attorney perceived,
with his weatherwise experience, the traces of recent storm, both in the
countenance and the manner of this young man, whose restiveness just now
might be troublesome.
"Unless your business is urgent, I think--if you'll excuse me--you had
better return to Marlowe," remarked the attorney. "You'll find it more
comfortable quarters, a good deal, and your uncle will be very much
hurried while here, and means to return to Marlowe to-morrow evening."
"But I shan't. I don't mean to return; in fact, I wish to speak to him
here. I've delayed you on the steps, sir, very rudely; the wind is
cold."
So he bowed, and they entered together, and the attorney, whose
curiosity was now a little piqued, found he could make nothing of him,
and rather disliked him; his reserve was hardly fair in so very young a
person, and practised by one who had not yet won his spurs against so
redoubted a champion as the knight of the rueful countenance.
Next morning, as M. Varbarriere had predicted, General Lennox, although
sleep had certainly had little to do with the change, was quite a
different man in some respects--in no wise happier, but much more
collected; and now he promptly apprehended and retained Monsieur
Varbarriere's plan, which it was agreed was to be executed that night.
More than once Varbarriere's compunctions revisited him as he sped
onwards that morning from Chester to Slowton. But as men will, he
bullied these misgivings and upbraidings into submission. He had been
once or twice on the point of disclosing this portion of the
complication to his attorney, but an odd sort of shyness prevented. He
fancied that possibly the picture and his part in it were not altogether
pretty, and somehow he did not care to expose himself to the secret
action of the attorney's thoughts.
Even in his own mind it needed the strong motive which had first
prompted it. Now it was no longer necessary to explore the mystery of
that secret door through which the missing deed, and indeed the Deverell
estate, had been carried into old Sir Harry's cupboard. But what was to
be done? He had committed himself to the statement. General Lennox had a
right to demand--in fact, _he_ had promised--a distinct explanation.
Yes, a distinct explanation, and, further, a due corroboration by proof
of that explanation. It was all due to Monsieur Varbarriere, who had
paid that debt to his credit and conscience, and behold what a picture!
Three familiar figures, irrevocably transformed, and placed in what a
halo of infernal light.
"The thing could not be helped, and, whether or no, it was only right.
Why the devil should I help Jekyl Marlowe to deceive and disgrace that
withered old gentleman? I don't think it would have been a pleasant
position for me."
And all the respectabilities hovering near cried "hear, hear, hear!" and
Varbarriere shook up his head, and looked magisterial over the havoc of
the last livid scene of the tragedy he had prepared; and the porter
crying "Slowton!" opened the door, and released him.