A RESCUE.
My curiosity was rather long in being gratified, and but for a very
strange occurrence, which I shall presently describe, probably never would
have been gratified. Even after I had been a member of Mr. Fortescue's
household for several months, I knew little more of his antecedents and
circumstances than on the day when he made me the proposal which I have
just mentioned. If I attempted to lead up to the subject, he would either
cleverly evade it or say bluntly that he preferred to talk about something
else. Save as to matters that did not particularly interest me, Ramon was
as reticent as his master; and as Geist had only been with Mr. Fortescue
during the latter's residence at Kingscote, his knowledge, or, rather, his
ignorance was on a par with my own.
Mr. Fortescue's character was as enigmatic as his history was obscure. He
seemed to be destitute both of kinsfolk and friends, never made any
allusion to his family, neither noticed women nor discussed them. Politics
and religion he equally ignored, and, so far as might appear, had neither
foibles nor fads. On the other hand, he had three passions--science,
horses, and horticulture, and his knowledge was almost encyclopædic. He
was a great reader, master of many languages, and seemed to have been
everywhere and seen all in the world that was worth seeing. His wealth
appeared to be unlimited, but how he made it or where he kept it I had no
idea. All I knew was that whenever money was wanted it was forthcoming,
and that he signed a check for ten pounds and ten thousand with equal
indifference. As he conducted his private correspondence himself, my
position as secretary gave me no insight into his affairs. My duties
consisted chiefly in corresponding with tradesmen, horse-dealers, and
nursery gardeners, and noting the results of chemical experiments.
Mr. Fortescue was very abstemious, and took great care of his health, and
if he was really verging on eighty (which I very much doubted), I thought
he might not improbably live to be a hundred and ten and even a hundred
and twenty. He drank nothing, whatever, neither tea, coffee, cocoa, nor
any other beverage, neither water nor wine, always quenching his thirst
with fruit, of which he ate largely. So far as I knew, the only liquid
that ever passed his lips was an occasional liquor-glass of a mysterious
decoction which he prepared himself and kept always under lock and key.
His breakfast, which he took every morning at seven, consisted of bread
and fruit.
He ate very little animal food, limiting himself for the most part to fish
and fowl, and invariably spent eight or nine hours of the twenty-four in
bed. We often discussed physiology, therapeutics, and kindred subjects, of
which his knowledge was so extensive as to make me suspect that some time
in his life he had belonged to the medical profession.
"The best physicians I ever met," he once observed, "are the Callavayas of
the Andes--if the preservation and prolongation of human life is the test
of medical skill. Among the Callavayas the period of youth is thirty
years; a man is not held to be a man until he reaches fifty, and he only
begins to be old at a hundred."
"Was it among the Callavayas that you learned the secret of long life, Mr.
Fortescue?" I asked.
"Perhaps," he answered, with one of his peculiar smiles; and then he
started me by saying that he would never be a "lean and slippered
pantaloon." When health and strength failed him he should cease to live.
"You surely don't mean that you will commit suicide?" I exclaimed, in
dismay.
"You may call it what you like. I shall do as the Fiji Islanders and some
tribes of Indians do, in similar circumstances--retire to a corner and
still the beatings of my heart by an effort of will."
"But is that possible?"
"I have seen it done, and I have done it myself--not, of course, to the
point of death, but so far as to simulate death. I once saved my life in
that way."
"Was that when you were hunted, Mr. Fortescue?"
"No, it was not. Let us go to the stables. I want to see you ride Regina
over the jumps."
Mr. Fortescue had caused to be arranged in the park a miniature
steeple-chase course about a mile round, on which newly-acquired hunters
were always tried, and the old ones regularly exercised. He generally made
a point of being present on these occasions, sometimes riding over the
course himself. If a horse, bought as a hunter, failed to justify its
character by its performance it was invariably returned.
Sometimes Ramon gave us an exhibition of his skill as a gaucho. One of the
wildest of the horses would be let loose in the park, and the old soldier,
armed with a lasso and mounted on an animal trained by himself, and
equipped with a South American saddle, would follow and try to "rope" the
runaway, Mr. Fortescue, Rawlings, and myself riding after him. It was
"good fun," but I fancy Mr. Fortescue regarded this sport, as he regarded
hunting, less as an amusement than as a means of keeping him in good
health and condition.
Regina (a recent purchase) was tried and, I think, found wanting. I recall
the instance merely because it is associated in my mind with an event
which, besides affecting a momentous change in my relations with Mr.
Fortescue and greatly influencing my own fortune, rendered possible the
writing of this book.
The trial over, Mr. Fortescue told me, somewhat abruptly, that he intended
to leave home in an hour, and should be away for several days. As he
walked toward the house, I inquired if there was anything he would like me
to look after during his absence, whereupon he mentioned several chemical
and electrical experiments, which he wished me to continue and note the
results. He requested me, further, to open all letters--save such as were
marked private or bore foreign postmarks--and answer so many of them as,
without his instructions, I might be able to do. For the rest, I was to
exercise a general supervision, especially over the stables and gardens.
As for purely domestic concerns, Geist was so excellent a manager that his
master trusted him without reserve.
When Mr. Fortescue came down-stairs, equipped for his journey, I inquired
when he expected to return, and on what day he would like the carriage to
meet him at the station. I thought he might tell me where he was going;
but he did not take the hint.
"If it rains I will telegraph," he said; "if fine, I shall probably walk;
it is only a couple of miles."
Mr. Fortescue, as he always did when he went outside his park (unless he
was mounted), took with him a sword-stick, a habit which I thought rather
ridiculous, for, though he was an essentially sane man, I had quite made
up my mind that his fear of assassination was either a fancy or a fad.
After my patron's departure I worked for a while in the laboratory; and an
hour before dinner I went for a stroll in the park, making, for no reason
in particular, toward the principal entrance. As I neared it I heard
voices in dispute, and on reaching the gates I found the lodge-keeper
engaged in a somewhat warm altercation with an Italian organ-grinder and
another fellow of the same kidney, who seemed to be his companion.
The lodge-keepers had strict orders to exclude from the park all beggars
without exception, and all and sundry who produced music by turning a
handle. Real musicians, however, were freely admitted, and often
generously rewarded.
The lodge-keeper in question (an old fellow with a wooden leg) had not
been able to make the two vagabonds in question understand this. They
insisted on coming in, and the lodge-keeper said that if I had not
appeared he verily believed they would have entered in spite of him. They
seemed to know very little English; but as I knew a little Italian, which
I eked out with a few significant gestures, I speedily enlightened them,
and they sheered off, looking daggers, and muttering what sounded like
curses.
The man who carried the organ was of the usual type--short, thick-set,
hairy, and unwashed. His companion, rather to my surprise, was just the
reverse--tall, shapely, well set up, and comparatively well clad; and with
his dark eyes, black mustache, broad-brimmed hat, and red tie loosely
knotted round his brawny throat, he looked decidedly picturesque.
On the following day, as I was going to the stables (which were a few
hundred yards below the house) I found my picturesque Italian in the back
garden, singing a barcarole to the accompaniment of a guitar. But as he
had complied with the condition of which I had informed him, I made no
objection. So far from that I gave him a shilling, and as the maids (who
were greatly taken with his appearance) got up a collection for him and
gave him a feed, he did not do badly.
A few days later, while out riding, I called at the station for an evening
paper, and there he was again, "touching his guitar," and singing
something that sounded very sentimental.
"That fellow is like a bad shilling," I said to one of the
porters--"always turning up."
"He is never away. I think he must have taken it into his head to live
here."
"What does he do?"
"Oh, he just hangs about, and watches the trains, as if he had never seen
any before. I suppose there are none in the country he comes from. Between
whiles he sometimes plays on his banjo and sings a bit for us. I cannot
quite make him out; but as he is very quiet and well-behaved, and never
interferes with nobody, it is no business of mine."
Neither was it any business of mine; so after buying my paper I dismissed
the subject from my mind and rode on to Kingscote.
As a rule, I found the morning papers quite as much as I could struggle
with; but at this time a poisoning case was being tried which interested
me so much that while it lasted I sent for or fetched an evening paper
every afternoon. The day after my conversation with the porter I adopted
the former course, the day after that I adopted the latter, and, contrary
to my usual practice, I walked.
There were two ways from Kingscote to the station; one by the road, the
other by a little-used footpath. I went by the road, and as I was buying
my paper at Smith's bookstall the station-master told me that Mr.
Fortescue had returned by a train which came in about ten minutes
previously.
"He must be walking home by the fields, then, or we should have met," I
said; and pocketing my paper, I set off with the intention of overtaking
him.
As I have already observed, the field way was little frequented, most
people preferring the high-road as being equally direct and, except in the
height of summer, both dryer and less lonesome.
After traversing two or three fields the foot-path ran through a thick
wood, once part of the great forest of Essex, then descending into a deep
hollow, it made a sudden bend and crossed a rambling old brook by a
dilapidated bridge.
As I reached the bend I heard a shout, and looking down I saw what at
first sight (the day being on the wane and the wood gloomy) I took to be
three men amusing themselves with a little cudgel-play. But a second
glance showed me that something much more like murder than cudgel-play was
going on; and shortening my Irish blackthorn, I rushed at breakneck speed
down the hollow.
I was just in time. Mr. Fortescue, with his back against the tree, was
defending himself with his sword-stick against the two Italians, each of
whom, armed with a long dagger, was doing his best to get at him without
falling foul of the sword.
The rascals were so intent on their murderous business that they neither
heard nor saw me, and, taking them in the rear, I fetched the
guitar-player a crack on his skull that stretched him senseless on the
ground, whereupon the other villain, without more ado, took to his heels.
"Thank you," said Mr. Fortescue, quietly, as he put up his weapon. "I
don't think I could have kept the brigands at bay much longer. A
sword-stick is no match for a pair of Corsican daggers. The next time I
take a walk I must have a revolver. Is that fellow dead, do you think? If
he is, I shall be still more in your debt."
I looked at the prostrate man's face, then at his head. "No," I said,
"there is no fracture. He is only stunned." My diagnosis was verified
almost as soon as it was spoken. The next moment the Italian opened his
eyes and sat up, and had I not threatened him with my blackthorn would
have sprung to his feet.
"You have to thank this gentleman for saving your life," said Mr.
Fortescue, in French.
"How?" asked the fellow in the same language.
"If you had killed me you would have been hanged. If I hand you over to
the police you will get twenty years at the hulks for attempted murder,
and unless you answer my questions truly I shall hand you over to the
police. You are a Griscelli."
"Yes, sir."
"Which of them?"
"I am Giuseppe, the son of Giuseppe."
"In that case you are _his_ grandson. How did you find me out?"
"You were at Paris last summer."
"But you did not see me there."
"No, but Giacomo did; and from your name and appearance we felt sure you
were the same."
"Who is Giacomo--your brother?"
"No, my cousin, the son of Luigi."
"What is he?"
"He belongs to the secret police."
"So Giacomo put you on the scent?"
"Yes, sir. He ascertained that you were living in England. The rest was
easy."
"Oh, it was, was it? You don't find yourself very much at ease just now, I
fancy. And now, my young friend, I am going to treat you better than you
deserve. I can afford to do so, for, as you see, and, as your grandfather
and your father discovered to their cost, I bear a charmed life. You
cannot kill me. You may go. And I advise you to return to France or
Corsica, or wherever may be your home, with all speed, for to-morrow I
shall denounce you to the police, and if you are caught you know what to
expect. Who is your accomplice--a kinsman?"
"No, only compatriot, whose acquaintance I made in London. He is a
coward."
"Evidently. One more question and I have done. Have you any brothers?"
"Yes, sir; two."
"And about a dozen cousins, I suppose, all of whom would be delighted to
murder me--if they could. Now, give that gentleman your dagger, and march,
_au pas gymnastique_."
With a very ill grace, Giuseppe Griscelli did as he was bid, and then,
rising to his feet, he marched, not, however, at the _pas gymnastique_,
but slowly and deliberately; and as he reached a bend in the path a few
yards farther on, he turned round and cast at Mr. Fortescue the most
diabolically ferocious glance I ever saw on a human countenance.