MCINTOSH SPEAKS HIS MIND
It was some time before Mrs Villiers recovered from the shock caused by
her encounter with her husband. The blow he had struck her on the side
of the head turned out to be more serious than was at first anticipated,
and Selina deemed it advisable that a doctor should be called in.
So Archie went into Ballarat, and returned to the Pactolus with Dr
Gollipeck, an eccentric medical practitioner, whose peculiarities were
the talk of the city.
Dr Gollipeck was tall and lank, with an unfinished look about him, as
if Nature in some sudden freak had seized an incomplete skeleton from a
museum and hastily covered it with parchment. He dressed in rusty black,
wore dingy cotton gloves, carried a large white umbrella, and surveyed
the world through the medium of a pair of huge spectacles. His clothes
were constantly coming undone, as he scorned the use of buttons, and
preferred pins, which were always scratching his hands. He spoke very
little, and was engaged in composing an erudite work on ‘The Art of
Poisoning, from Borgia to Brinvilliers’.
Selina was not at all impressed with his appearance, and mentally
decided that a good wash and a few buttons would improve him
wonderfully. Dr Gollipeck, however, soon verified the adage that
appearances are deceptive--as Selina afterwards remarked to Archie--by
bringing Madame Midas back to health in a wonderfully short space of
time. She was now convalescent, and, seated in the arm-chair by the
window, looked dreamily at the landscape. She was thinking of her
husband, and in what manner he would annoy her next; but she half
thought--and the wish was father to the half thought--that having got
the nugget he would now leave her alone.
She knew that he had not been in Ballarat since that fatal night when he
had attacked her, but imagined that he was merely hiding till such time
as the storm should blow over and he could enjoy his ill-gotten gains in
safety. The letter asking him to give up the nugget and ordering him
to leave the district under threat of prosecution had been sent to his
lodgings, but was still lying there unopened. The letters accumulated
into quite a little pile as weeks rolled on, yet Mr Villiers, if he was
alive, made no sign, and if he was dead, no traces had been found of his
body. McIntosh and Slivers had both seen the police about the affair,
one in order to recover the nugget, the other actuated by bitter enmity
against Madame Midas. To Slivers’ hints, that perhaps Villiers’ wife
knew more than she chose to tell, the police turned a deaf ear, as they
assured Slivers that they had made inquiries, and on the authority of
Selina and McIntosh could safely say that Madame Midas had been home
that night at half-past nine o’clock, whereas Villiers was still alive
in Ballarat--as could be proved by the evidence of Mr Jarper--at two
o’clock in the morning. So, foiled on every side in his endeavours to
implicate Mrs Villiers in her husband’s disappearance, Slivers retired
to his office, and, assisted by his ungodly cockatoo, passed many hours
in swearing at his bad luck and in cursing the absent Villiers.
As to M. Vandeloup, he was indefatigable in his efforts to find
Villiers, for, as he very truly said, he could never repay Madame Midas
sufficiently for her kindness to him, and he wanted to do all in his
power to punish her cruel husband. But in spite of all this seeking, the
whereabouts of Mr Randolph Villiers remained undiscovered, and at last,
in despair, everyone gave up looking. Villiers had disappeared entirely,
and had taken the nugget with him, so where he was and what he was doing
remained a mystery.
One result of Madame’s illness was that M. Vandeloup had met Dr
Gollipeck, and the two, though apparently dissimilar in both character
and appearance, had been attracted to one another by a liking which they
had in common. This was the study of toxicology, a science at which
the eccentric old man had spent a lifetime. He found in Vandeloup a
congenial spirit, for the young Frenchman had a wonderful liking for
the uncanny subject; but there was a difference in the aims of both men,
Gollipeck being drawn to the study of poisons from a pure love of the
subject, whereas Vandeloup wanted to find out the secrets of toxicology
for his own ends, which were anything but disinterested.
Wearied of the dull routine of the office work, Vandeloup was taking
a walk in the meadows which surrounded the Pactolus, when he saw Dr
Gollipeck shuffling along the dusty white road from the railway station.
‘Good day, Monsieur le Medecin,’ said Vandeloup, gaily, as he came up to
the old man; ‘are you going to see our mutual friend?’
Gollipeck, ever sparing of words, nodded in reply, and trudged on in
silence, but the Frenchmen, being used to the eccentricities of his
companion, was in nowise offended at his silence, but went on talking in
an animated manner.
‘Ah, my dear friend,’ he said, pushing his straw hat back on his fair
head; ‘how goes on the great work?’
‘Capitally,’ returned the doctor, with a complacent smile; ‘just
finished “Catherine de Medici”--wonderful woman, sir--quite a mistress
of the art of poisoning.’
‘Humph,’ returned Vandeloup, thoughtfully, lighting a cigarette, ‘I do
not agree with you there; it was her so-called astrologer, Ruggieri,
who prepared all her potions. Catherine certainly had the power, but
Ruggieri possessed the science--a very fair division of labour for
getting rid of people, I must say--but what have you got there?’ nodding
towards a large book which Gollipeck carried under his arm.
‘For you,’ answered the other, taking the book slowly from under his
arm, and thereby causing another button to fly off, ‘quite new,--work on
toxicology.’
‘Thank you,’ said Vandeloup, taking the heavy volume and looking at the
title; ‘French, I see! I’m sure it will be pleasant reading.’
The title of the book was ‘Les Empoisonneurs d’Aujourd’hui, par MM.
Prevol et Lebrun’, and it had only been published the previous year; so
as he turned over the leaves carelessly, M. Vandeloup caught sight of
a name which he knew. He smiled a little, and closing the book put it
under his arm, while he turned smilingly towards his companion, whom he
found looking keenly at him.
‘I shall enjoy this book immensely,’ he said, touching the volume. Dr
Gollipeck nodded and chuckled in a hoarse rattling kind of way.
‘So I should think,’ he answered, with another sharp look, ‘you are a
very clever young man, my friend.’
Vandeloup acknowledged the compliment with a bow, and wondered mentally
what this old man meant. Gaston, however, was never without an answer,
so he turned to Gollipeck again with a nonchalant smile on his handsome
lips.
‘So kind of you to think well of me,’ he said, coolly flicking the ash
off the end of his cigarette with his little finger; ‘but why do you pay
me such a compliment?’
Gollipeck answered the question by asking another.
‘Why are you so fond of toxicology?’ he said, abruptly, shuffling his
feet in the long dry grass in which they were now walking in order to
rub the dust off his ungainly, ill-blacked shoes.
Vandeloup shrugged his shoulders.
‘To pass the time,’ he said, carelessly, ‘that is all; even office work,
exciting as it is, becomes wearisome, so I must take up some subject to
amuse myself.’
‘Curious taste for a young man,’ remarked the doctor, dryly.
‘Nature,’ said M. Vandeloup, ‘does not form men all on the same pattern,
and my taste for toxicology has at least the charm of novelty.’
Gollipeck looked at the young man again in a sharp manner.
‘I hope you’ll enjoy the book,’ he said, abruptly, and vanished into the
house.
When he was gone, the mocking smile so habitual to Vandeloup’s
countenance faded away, and his face assumed a thoughtful expression. He
opened the book, and turned over the leaves rapidly, but without finding
what he was in search of. With an uneasy laugh he shut the volume with a
snap, and put it under his arm again.
‘He’s an enigma,’ he thought, referring to the doctor; ‘but he can’t
suspect anything. The case may be in this book, but I doubt if even this
man with the barbarous name can connect Gaston Vandeloup, of Ballarat,
with Octave Braulard, of Paris.’
His face reassumed its usual gay look, and throwing away the half-smoked
cigarette, he walked into the house and found Madame Midas seated in her
arm-chair near the window looking pale and ill, while Archie was walking
up and down in an excited manner, and talking volubly in broad Scotch.
As to Dr Gollipeck, that eccentric individual was standing in front of
the fire, looking even more dilapidated than usual, and drying his red
bandanna handkerchief in an abstract manner. Selina was in another room
getting a drink for Madame, and as Vandeloup entered she came back with
it.
‘Good day, Madame,’ said the Frenchman, advancing to the table, and
putting his hat and the book down on it. ‘How are you today?’
‘Better, much better, thank you,’ said Madame, with a faint smile; ‘the
doctor assures me I shall be quite well in a week.’
‘With perfect rest and quiet, of course,’ interposed Gollipeck, sitting
down and spreading his handkerchief over his knees.
‘Which Madame does not seem likely to get,’ observed Vandeloup, dryly,
with a glance at McIntosh, who was still pacing up and down the room
with an expression of wrath on his severe face.
‘Ou, ay,’ said that gentleman, stopping in front of Vandeloup, with a
fine expression of scorn. ‘I ken weel ‘tis me ye are glowerin’ at--div
ye no’ ken what’s the matter wi’ me?’
‘Not being in your confidence,’ replied Gaston, smoothly, taking a seat,
‘I can hardly say that I do.’
‘It’s just that Peter o’ yours,’ said Archie, with a snort; ‘a puir
weecked unbaptised child o’ Satan.’
‘Archie!’ interposed Madame, with some severity.
‘Your pardon’s begged, mem,’ said Archie, sourly turning to her; ‘but as
for that Peter body, the Lord keep me tongue fra’ swearin’, an’ my hand
from itching to gie him ain on the lug, when I think o’ him.’
‘What’s he been doing?’ asked Vandeloup, coolly. ‘I am quite prepared to
hear anything about him in his present state.’
‘It’s just this,’ burst forth Archie, wrathfully. ‘I went intil the toun
to the hotel, to tell the body he must come back tae the mine, and I
find him no in a fit state for a Christian to speak to.’
‘Therefore,’ interposed Vandeloup, in his even voice, without lifting
his eyes, ‘it was a pity you did speak to him.’
‘I gang t’ the room,’ went on Archie excitedly, without paying any
attention to Vandeloup’s remark, ‘an’ the deil flew on me wi’ a dirk,
and wud hae split my weasand, but I hed the sense to bang the door to,
and turn the key in the lock. D’y ca’ that conduct for a ceevilized
body?’
‘The fact is, M. Vandeloup,’ said Madame, quietly, ‘Archie is so annoyed
at this conduct that he does not want Lemaire to come back to work.’
‘Ma certie, I should just think so,’ cried McIntosh, rubbing his head
with his handkerchief. ‘Fancy an imp of Beelzebub like yon in the bowels
o’ the earth. Losh! but it macks my bluid rin cauld when I think o’ the
bluidthirsty pagan.’
To Vandeloup, this information was not unpleasant. He was anxious to get
rid of Pierre, who was such an incubus, and now saw that he could send
him away without appearing to wish to get rid of him. But as he was a
diplomatic young man he did not allow his satisfaction to appear on his
face.
‘Aren’t you rather hard on him?’ he said, coolly, leaning back in his
chair; ‘he is simply drunk, and will be all right soon.’
‘I tell ye I’ll no have him back,’ said Archie, firmly; ‘he’s ain o’
they foreign bodies full of revolutions an’ confusion o’ tongues, and
I’d no feel safe i’ the mine if I kenned that deil was doon below wi’
his dirk.’
‘I really think he ought to go,’ said Madame, looking rather anxiously
at Vandeloup, ‘unless, M. Vandeloup, you do not want to part with him.’
‘Oh, I don’t want him,’ said Vandeloup, hastily; ‘as I told you, he
was only one of the sailors on board the ship I was wrecked in, and he
followed me up here because I was the only friend he had, but now he has
got money--or, at least, his wages must come to a good amount.’
‘Forty pounds,’ interposed Archie.
‘So I think the best thing he can do is to go to Melbourne, and see if
he can get back to France.’
‘And you, M. Vandeloup?’ asked Dr Gollipeck, who had been listening to
the young Frenchman’s remarks with great interest; ‘do you not wish to
go to France?’
Vandeloup rose coolly from his chair, and, picking up his book and hat,
turned to the doctor.
‘My dear Monsieur,’ he said, leaning up against the wall in a graceful
manner, ‘I left France to see the world, so until I have seen it I don’t
think it would be worthwhile to return.’
‘Never go back when you have once put your hand to the plough,’ observed
Selina, opportunely, upon which Vandeloup bowed to her.
‘Mademoiselle,’ he said, quietly, with a charming smile, ‘has put the
matter into the shell of a nut; Australia is my plough, and I do not
take my hand away until I have finished with it.’
‘But that deil o’ a Peter,’ said Archie, impatiently.
‘If you will permit me, Madame,’ said Vandeloup, ‘I will write out a
cheque for the amount of money due to him, and you will sign it. I will
go into Ballarat to-morrow, and get him away to Melbourne. I propose
to buy him a box and some clothes, as he certainly is not capable of
getting them himself.’
‘You have a kind heart, M. Vandeloup,’ said Madame, as she assented with
a nod.
A stifled laugh came from the Doctor, but as he was such an extremely
eccentric individual no one minded him.
‘Come, Monsieur,’ said Vandeloup, going to the door, ‘let us be off
to the office and see how much is due to my friend,’ and with a bow to
Madame, he went out.
‘A braw sort o’ freend,’ muttered Archie, as he followed.
‘Quite good enough for him,’ retorted Dr Gollipeck, who overheard him.
Archie looked at him approvingly, nodded his head, and went out after
the Frenchman, but Madame, being a woman and curious, asked the doctor
what he meant.
His reply was peculiar.
‘Our friend,’ he said, putting his handkerchief in his pocket and
seizing his greasy old hat, ‘our friend believes in the greatest
number.’
‘And what is the greatest number?’ asked Madame, innocently.
‘Number one,’ retorted the Doctor, and took his leave abruptly, leaving
two buttons and several pins on the floor as traces of his visit.