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_"Laden with Golden Grain"_
* * * * *
THE
ARGOSY.
EDITED BY
CHARLES W. WOOD.
* * * * *
VOLUME LI.
_January to June, 1891._
* * * * *
RICHARD BENTLEY & SON,
8, NEW BURLINGTON STREET, LONDON, W.
Publishers in Ordinary to Her Majesty.
_All rights reserved._
LONDON:
PRINTED BY OGDEN, SMALE AND CO. LIMITED,
GREAT SAFFRON HILL, E.C.
_CONTENTS._
THE FATE OF THE HARA DIAMOND. Illustrated by M.L. GOW.
Chap. I. My Arrival at Deepley Walls Jan
II. The Mistress of Deepley Walls Jan
III. A Voyage of Discovery Jan
IV. Scarsdale Weir Jan
V. At Rose Cottage Feb
VI. The Growth of a Mystery Feb
VII. Exit Janet Hope Feb
VIII. By the Scotch Express Feb
IX. At "The Golden Griffin" Mar
X. The Stolen Manuscript Mar
XI. Bon Repos Mar
XII. The Amsterdam Edition of 1698 Mar
XIII. M. Platzoff's Secret--Captain Ducie's Translation of
M. Paul Platzoff's MS Mar
XIV. Drashkil-Smoking Apr
XV. The Diamond Apr
XVI. Janet's Return Apr
XVII. Deepley Walls after Seven Years Apr
XVIII. Janet in a New Character May
XIX. The Dawn of Love May
XX. The Narrative of Sergeant Nicholas May
XXI. Counsel taken with Mr. Madgin May
XXII. Mr. Madgin at the Helm Jun
XXIII. Mr. Madgin's Secret Journey Jun
XXIV. Enter Madgin Junior Jun
XXV. Madgin Junior's First Report Jun
* * * * *
THE SILENT CHIMES. By JOHNNY LUDLOW (Mrs. HENRY WOOD).
Putting Them Up Jan
Playing Again Feb
Ringing at Midday Mar
Not Heard Apr
Silent for Ever May
* * * * *
THE BRETONS AT HOME. By CHARLES W. WOOD, F.R.G.S. With
35 Illustrations Jan, Feb, Mar, Apr, May, Jun
* * * * *
About the Weather Jun
Across the River. By HELEN M. BURNSIDE Apr
After Twenty Years. By ADA M. TROTTER Feb
A Memory. By GEORGE COTTERELL Feb
A Modern Witch Jan
An April Folly. By GILBERT H. PAGE Apr
A Philanthropist. By ANGUS GREY Jun
Aunt Phoebe's Heirlooms: An Experience in Hypnotism Feb
A Social Debut Mar
A Song. By G.B. STUART Jan
Enlightenment. By E. NESBIT Feb
In a Bernese Valley. By ALEXANDER LAMONT Feb
Legend of an Ancient Minster. By JOHN GRÆME Mar
Longevity. By W.F. AINSWORTH, F.S.A. Apr
Mademoiselle Elise. By EDWARD FRANCIS Jun
Mediums and Mysteries. By NARISSA ROSAVO Feb
Miss Kate Marsden Jan
My May Queen. By JOHN JERVIS BERESFORD, M.A. May
Old China Jun
On Letter-Writing. By A.H. JAPP, LL.D. May
Paul. By the Author of "Adonais, Q.C." May
"Proctorised" Apr
Rondeau. By E. NESBIT Mar
Saint or Satan? By A. BERESFORD Feb
Sappho. By MARY GREY Mar
Serenade. By E. NESBIT Jun
Sonnets. By JULIA KAVANAGH Jan, Feb, Apr, Jun
So Very Unattractive! Jun
Spes. By JOHN JERVIS BERESFORD, M.A. Apr
Sweet Nancy. By JEANIE GWYNNE BETTANY May
The Church Garden. By CHRISTIAN BURKE May
The Only Son of his Mother. By LETITIA MCCLINTOCK Mar
To my Soul. From the French of Victor Hugo Jun
Unexplained. By LETITIA MCCLINTOCK Apr
Who Was the Third Maid? Jan
Winter in Absence Feb
* * * * *
_POETRY._
Sonnets. By JULIA KAVANAGH Jan, Feb, Apr, Jun
A Song. By G.B. STUART Jan
Enlightenment. By E. NESBIT Feb
Winter in Absence Feb
A Memory. By GEORGE COTTERELL Feb
In a Bernese Valley. By ALEXANDER LAMONT Feb
Rondeau. By E. NESBIT Mar
Spes. By JOHN JERVIS BERESFORD, M.A. Apr
Across the River. By HELEN M. BURNSIDE Apr
My May Queen. By JOHN JERVIS BERESFORD, M.A. May
The Church Garden. By CHRISTIAN BURKE May
Serenade. By E. NESBIT Jun
To my Soul. From the French of Victor Hugo Jun
Old China Jun
* * * * *
_ILLUSTRATIONS._
By M.L. Gow.
"I advanced slowly up the room, stopped, and curtsied."
"I saw and recognised the mysterious midnight visitor."
"He came back in a few minutes, but so transformed in outward
appearance that Ducie scarcely knew him."
"Behold!"
"Sister Agnes knelt for a few moments and bent her head in silent
prayer."
"He put his hand to his side, and motioned Mirpah to open the letter."
* * * * *
Illustrations to "The Bretons at Home."
[Illustration: HE CAME BACK IN A FEW MINUTES, BUT SO TRANSFORMED IN
OUTWARD APPEARANCE THAT DUCIE SCARCELY KNEW HIM.]
THE ARGOSY.
_MARCH, 1891._
THE FATE OF THE HARA DIAMOND.
CHAPTER IX.
AT "THE GOLDEN GRIFFIN."
Captain Edmund Ducie was one of the first to emerge from the wreck. He
crept out of the broken window of the crushed-up carriage, and shook
himself as a dog might have done. "Once more a narrow squeak for life,"
he said, half aloud. "If I had been worth ten thousand a-year, I should
infallibly have been smashed. Not being worth ten brass farthings, here
I am. What has become of my little Russian, I wonder?"
No groan or cry emanated from that portion of the broken carriage out of
which Captain Ducie had just crept. Could it be possible that Platzoff
was killed?
With considerable difficulty Ducie managed to wrench open the smashed
door. Then he called the Russian by name; but there was no answer. He
could discern nothing inside save a confused heap of rugs and minor
articles of luggage. Under these, enough in themselves to smother him,
Platzoff must be lying. One by one these articles were fished out of the
carriage, and thrown aside by Ducie. Last of all he came to Platzoff,
lying in a heap, white and insensible, as one already dead.
Putting forth all his great strength, Ducie lifted the senseless body
out of the carriage as carefully and tenderly as though it were that of
a new-born child. He then saw that the Russian was bleeding from an ugly
jagged wound at the back of his head. There was no trace of any other
outward hurt. A faint pulsation of the heart told that he was still
alive.
On looking round, Ducie saw that there was a large country tavern only a
few hundred yards from the scene of the accident. Towards this house,
which announced itself to the world under the title of "The Golden
Griffin," he now hastened with long measured strides, carrying the still
insensible Russian in his arms. In all, some half-dozen carriages had
come over the embankment. The shrieks and cries of the wounded
passengers were something appalling. Already the passengers in the fore
part of the train, who had escaped unhurt, together with the officials
and a few villagers who happened to be on the spot, were doing their
best to rescue these unfortunates from the terrible wreckage in which
they were entangled.
Captain Ducie was the first man from the accident to cross the threshold
of "The Golden Griffin." He demanded to be shown the best spare room in
the house. On the bed in this room he laid the body of the still
insensible Platzoff. His next act was to despatch a mounted messenger
for the nearest doctor. Then, having secured the services of a brisk,
steady-nerved chambermaid, he proceeded to dress the wound as well as
the means at his command would allow of--washing it, and cutting away
the hair, and, by means of some ice, which he was fortunate enough to
procure, succeeding in all but stopping the bleeding, which, to a man so
frail of body, so reduced in strength as Platzoff, would soon have been
fatal. A teaspoonful of brandy administered at brief intervals did its
part as a restorative, and some minutes before the doctor's arrival
Ducie had the satisfaction of seeing his patient's eyes open, and of
hearing him murmur faintly a few soft guttural words in some language
which the Captain judged to be his native Russ.
Platzoff had quite recovered his senses by the time the doctor arrived,
but was still too feeble to do more than whisper a few unconnected
words. There were many claimants this forenoon on the doctor's
attention, and the services required by Platzoff at his hands had to be
performed as expeditiously as possible.
"You must make up your mind to be a guest of 'The Golden Griffin' for at
least a week to come," he said, as he took up his hat preparatory to
going. "With quiet, and care, and a strict adherence to my instructions,
I daresay that by the end of that time you will be sufficiently
recovered to leave here for your own home. Humanly speaking, sir, you
owe your life to this gentleman," indicating Ducie. "But for his skill
and promptitude you would have been a dead man before I reached you."
Platzoff's thin white hand was extended feebly. Ducie took it in his
sinewy palms and pressed it gently. "You have this day done for me what
I can never forget," whispered the Russian, brokenly. Then he closed his
eyes, and seemed to sink off into a sleep of exhaustion.
Leaving strict injunctions with the chambermaid not to quit the room
till he should come back, Captain Ducie went downstairs with the
intention of revisiting the scene of the disaster. He called in at the
bar to obtain his favourite "thimbleful" of cognac, and there he found a
very agreeable landlady, with whom he got into conversation respecting
the accident. Some five minutes had passed thus when the chambermaid
came up to him. "If you please, sir, the foreign gentleman has woke up,
and is anxiously asking to see you."
With a shrug of the shoulders and a slight lowering of his black
eyebrows, Captain Ducie went back upstairs. Platzoff's eager eyes fixed
him as he entered the room. Ducie sat down close by the bed and said in
a kindly tone: "What is it? What can I do for you? Command me in any
way."
"My servant--where is he? And--and my despatch box. Valuable papers. Try
to find it."
Ducie nodded and left the room. The inquiries he made soon elicited the
fact that Platzoff's servant had been even more severely injured than
his master, and was at that moment lying, more dead than alive, in a
little room upstairs. Slowly and musingly, with hands in pocket, Captain
Ducie then took his way towards the scene of the accident. "It may suit
my book very well to make friends with this Russian," he thought as he
went along. "He is no doubt very rich; and I am very poor. In us the two
extremes meet and form the perfect whole. He might serve my purposes in
more ways than one, and it is just as likely that his purposes might be
served by me: for a man like that must have purposes that want serving.
Nous verrons. Meanwhile, I am his obedient servant to command."
Captain Ducie, hunting about among the débris of the train, was not long
in finding the fragments of M. Platzoff's despatch box. Its contents
were scattered about. Ducie spent ten minutes in gathering together the
various letters and documents which it had contained. Then, with the
broken box under his arm and the papers in his hands, he went back to
the Russian.
He showed the papers one by one to Platzoff, who was strangely eager in
the matter. When Ducie held up the last of them, Platzoff groaned and
shut his eyes. "They are all there as far as I can judge," he murmured,
"except the most important one of all--a paper covered with figures, of
no use to anyone but myself. Oh, dear Captain Ducie! do please go once
more and try to find the one that is still missing. If I only knew that
it was burnt, or torn into fragments, I should not mind so much. But if
it were to fall into the hands of a scoundrel skilful enough to master
the secret which it contains, then I--"
He stopped with a scared look on his face, as though he had unwittingly
said more than he had intended.
"Pray don't trouble yourself with any explanations just now," said
Ducie. "You want the paper: that is enough. I will go and have a
thorough hunt for it."
Back went Ducie to the broken carriages and began to search more
carefully than before. "What can be the nature of the great secret, I
wonder, that is hidden between the Sibylline leaves I am in search of?
If what Platzoff's words implied be true, he who learns it is master of
the situation. Would that it were known to me!"
Slowly and carefully, inside and out of the carriage in which he and
Platzoff had travelled, Captain Ducie conducted his search. One by one
he again turned over the wraps and different articles of personal
luggage belonging to both of them, which had not yet been removed. The
first object that rewarded his search was a splendid diamond pin which
he remembered having seen in Platzoff's scarf. Ducie picked it up and
looked cautiously around. No one was regarding him. "Of the first water
and worth a hundred guineas at the very least," he muttered. Then he put
it in his waistcoat pocket and went on with his search.
A minute or two later, hidden away under one of the cushions of the
carriage, he found what he was looking for: a folded sheet of thick blue
paper covered with a complicated array of figures--that and nothing
more.
Captain Ducie regarded the recovered treasure with a strange mixture of
feelings. His hands trembled slightly; his heart was beating more
quickly than usual; his eyes seemed to see and yet not to see the paper
in his hands. As one mazed and in deep doubt he stood.
His reverie was broken by the approach of some of the railway officials.
The cloud vanished from before his eyes, and he was his cool,
imperturbable self in a moment. Heading the long array of figures on the
parchment were a few lines of ordinary writing, written, however, not in
English, but Italian. These few lines Ducie now proceeded to read over
more attentively than he had done at the first glance. He was
sufficiently master of Italian to be able to translate them without much
difficulty. Translated they ran as under:--
"Bon Repos,
"Windermere.
"CARLO MIO,--In the Amsterdam edition of 1698 of _The Confessions
of Parthenio the Mystic_ occur the passages given below. To your
serious consideration, O friend of my heart, I recommend these
words. To read them much patience is required. But they are
freighted with wisdom, as you will discover long before you reach
the end of them, and have a deep significance for that great cause
to which the souls of both of us are knit by bonds which in this
life can never be severed. When you read these lines, the hand that
writes them will be cold in the grave. But Nature allows nothing to
be lost, and somewhere in the wide universe the better part of me
(the mystic EGO) will still exist; and if there be any truth in the
doctrine of the affinity of souls, then shall you and I meet again
elsewhere. Till that time shall come--Adieu!
"Thine,
"PAUL PLATZOFF."
Having carefully read these lines twice over, Captain Ducie refolded the
paper, put it away in an inner pocket, and buttoned his coat over it.
Then he took his way, deep in thought, back to "The Golden Griffin."
The Russian's eager eyes asked him: "What success?" before he could say
a word.
"I am sorry to say that I have not been able to find the paper," said
Captain Ducie in slow, deliberate tones. "I have found something
else--your diamond pin, which you appear to have lost out of your
scarf."
Platzoff gazed at him with a sort of blank despair on his saffron face,
but a low moan was his only reply. Then he turned his face to the wall
and shut his eyes.
Captain Ducie was a patient man, and he waited without speaking for a
full hour. At the end of that time Platzoff turned, and held out a
feeble hand.
"Forgive me, my friend--if you will allow me to call you so," he said.
"I must seem horribly ungrateful after all the trouble I have put you
to, but I do not feel so. The loss of my MS. affected me so deeply for a
little while that I could think of nothing else. I shall get over it by
degrees."
"If I remember rightly," remarked Ducie, "you said that the lost MS. was
merely a complicated array of figures. Of what possible value can it be
to anyone who may chance to find it?"
"Of no value whatever," answered Platzoff, "unless they who find it
should also be skilful enough to discover the key by which alone it can
be read; for, as I may now tell you, there is a hidden meaning in the
figures. The finders may or may not make that discovery, but how am I to
ascertain what is the fact either one way or the other? For want of such
knowledge my sense of security will be gone. I would almost prefer to
know for certain that the MS. had been read than be left in utter doubt
on the point. In the one case I should know what I had to contend
against, and could take proper precautionary measures; in the other, I
am left to do battle with a shadow that may or may not be able to work
me harm."
"Would possession of the information that is contained in the MS. enable
anyone to work you harm?"
"It would to this extent, that it would put them in possession of a
cherished secret, which--But why talk of these things? What is done
cannot be undone. I can only prepare myself for the worst."
"One moment," said Ducie. "I think that after the thorough search made
by me the chances are twenty to one against the MS. ever being found.
But granting that it does turn up, the finder of it will probably be
some ignorant navvie or incurious official, without either inclination
or ability to master the secret of the cipher."
* * * * *
Ten days later M. Platzoff was sufficiently recovered to set out for Bon
Repos. At his earnest request Ducie had put off his own journey to stay
with him. At another time the ex-Captain might not have cared to spend
ten days at a forlorn country tavern, even with a rich Russian; but as
he often told himself he had "his book to make," and he probably looked
upon this as a necessary part of the process. Before they parted, it was
arranged that as soon as Ducie should return from Scotland he should go
and spend a month at Bon Repos. Then the two shook hands, and each went
his own way. As one day passed after another without bringing any
tidings of the lost MS., Platzoff's anxiety respecting it seemed to
lessen, and by the time he left "The Golden Griffin" he had apparently
ceased to trouble his mind any further in the matter.