It was nearly ten o’clock on the following morning before Edgar reached
the _Bedford_, Covent Garden. He found the American in his private room
waiting his arrival, and clad in a loose dressing-gown, which made him
look extra tall and thin—a wonderful garment, embracing every known
hue and colour, and strongly resembling, save as to its garishness, a
Canadian wood in the fall. Mr Slimm laid aside a disreputable brier he
was smoking, as soon as he perceived his visitor. ‘Morning!’ he said
briskly. ‘Tolerably punctual. Hope you don’t object to the smell of
tobacco so early?’
‘I don’t know,’ Edgar replied, throwing himself down in a chair. ‘Like
most well-regulated Britons, I cannot say I am partial to the smell of
tobacco before breakfast.’
‘Do you know,’ Mr Slimm responded dryly, ‘I have seen the time when I
never smoked before breakfast. I don’t allude to any great outbreak of
virtue on my part; but the fact is, when a man can’t get a breakfast,
he can’t be accused of smoking before it—no, sir.’ Having administered
this crushing piece of logic with characteristic force, Mr Slimm rang
the bell and proceeded to order ‘the fixings,’ which was his term for
the matutinal repast.
‘You Britishers have got some sound notions on the subject of dinners
and promiscuous refreshment; but your imagination don’t soar to
breakfast. There’s nothing substantial about it,’ said Mr Slimm,
after finishing a pound or so of steak. ‘The Francatelli who rules
the kitchen here is fairly good; and I flatter myself if I stay here
much longer he will know what a breakfast is. I stayed for a week at
a little place off the Strand once; but I was almost starved. Ham and
eggs, chops and steaks, was the programme, with a sole, by way of a
treat, on Sundays.’
‘Very sad,’ replied Edgar, with considerable gravity. ‘You must have
suffered. You don’t seem, however, particularly short here.’
‘Well, no,’ Mr Slimm admitted, at the same time helping himself to
fish; ‘I can manage here.’
‘I hope last night’s little scrimmage has not injured your appetite
this morning?’ Edgar asked politely.
‘Not much. Æneas Slimm generally can pick up his crumbs tolerably. This
little village is a fine place to sharpen the appetite.’
‘How long do you propose to stay here?’
‘I don’t know; it all depends. I am doing London, you see, and when I
do a place, I do it well. You’ve got some fine old landmarks here—very
fine,’ said Mr Slimm with proverbial American reverence for the
antique. ‘I guess we should be proud of the Tower over to New York—yes,
sir.’
‘I have never been over it,’ Edgar said carelessly.
‘Do, tell. Man, I guess you’re funning. Seems to me kind o’ incredible
for an Englishman to live in London and not see the Tower.’
‘Really, Mr Slimm, I have never seen the Tower.’
‘Wall, if this don’t beat snakes! Never seen the Tower!’ exclaimed
the American, chipping his third egg. ‘Maybe you never heard of a
picturesque pile known to the inquiring stranger as the British
Museum?—Now, _have_ you ever heard of Westminster Abbey?’
‘Well,’ said Edgar laughingly, ‘I believe I have; but I must confess
that I have never been inside either of the places you mention.’
‘Wonderful! Mr Seaton, you’re born to make a name. The man who can pass
these places without emotion, ain’t no common shake. I guess you’re the
kind of matter they make genius out of.’
‘You seem to be astonished. Surely, in New York, you have buildings and
churches quite as fine as anything in London?’
‘You think so, do you? Wall, if it’s any consolation to you, keep
on thinking so; it won’t hurt any one.—Mr Seaton,’ continued Slimm,
lowering his voice reverently, ‘when I get pottering about down at
Westminster, and look at the Abbey and the Houses of Parliament, strike
me if I don’t wish I was a Britisher myself!’
‘That is high praise indeed; and I think it is due to your native
patriotism to say your approval does you credit. But candidly, it
always struck me that our Houses of Parliament are particularly
mean-looking for their position.’
‘Maybe, maybe,’ Mr Slimm replied meditatively; ‘but there’s something
about them that makes me feel chockful of poetry. When I wander into
the Abbey among these silent stones and listen to that grand organ, I
feel it does me good.’
‘You do not look like a man who took any particular delight in music.’
‘I don’t, and that’s a fact. I don’t know F sharp from a bull’s foot;
but I can feel it. When the artist presiding at the instrument pulls
out that wonderful stop like a human voice, I feel real mean, and
that’s a fact—yes, sir.’
‘It is wonderful what an effect music has on the human understanding,’
Edgar replied. ‘“Music hath charms to soothe the savage breast.” My
wife always says’——
‘Your wife! I didn’t know you were married.’
‘Considering I never told you that interesting fact, I do not see
very well how you could know,’ Edgar replied with a smile; which was,
however, not so cordially received by Mr Slimm.
‘Um,’ he said doubtfully.—‘Now, look here, my young friend; I’m a rough
chap, and I’ve just got to say my mind, if I die for it. Don’t you
think a young married man has no business in such a place as we met
last night?’
‘But, you see, I had business there,’ Edgar said, still smiling. ‘It
was stern business, and nothing else, which took me to that place.’
‘You’ve got the bulge of me, and that’s a fact.’
‘You mean, you don’t understand. Well, I am what is usually known—or
rather, in my case, unknown—as a literary man. I am working up a series
of articles on gambling-houses.’
‘Why don’t you get on a more respectable line?’
Edgar tapped his pocket and nodded significantly.
‘Hard up,’ said Mr Slimm. ‘Case of needs must when what’s-his-name
drives. You don’t look as if you were dragged up to this sort of thing
neither?’
‘To be candid with you, I was not,’ Edgar replied, urged by some
strange impulse to confide in the American. ‘I am a university man
without money. My history is a common one. Educated at a public school,
and afterwards at Cambridge, I am expected to get a living in some
mysterious way. All my little money was spent upon my education, and
then I had to shift for myself. Much good my second-class honours have
done me.’
‘Then, to prove your wisdom, you got married?’
‘Of course. But now comes the most remarkable part of my story. My wife
was her uncle’s heiress—not that her money was any inducement to me—and
I was engaged to her with his approval. It was arranged I was to manage
his property, and we were to live with him. Then a relative of his—a
lady—came to stay, and everything went wrong from that time. Finally,
acting under the lady’s wonderful fascination, my wife’s uncle forbade
our marriage, and ordered her to marry a nephew of the lady’s. This, of
course, she refused to do, and was consequently disinherited.’
‘What sort of a seraph was the lady?’ asked Mr Slimm, with considerable
interest.
‘Don’t mention her, pray. She had the evil-eye, if ever woman had.—But
to continue. After our wedding, we came to London, and at different
times tried to bring about a reconciliation; but to no effect. Then the
old gentleman died.’
‘A common story enough; but considerable rough on you and your wife,’
said Mr Slimm.
‘After that, a most remarkable occurrence happened. When the will was
proved, not a sixpence of the old gentleman’s money could be found—that
is, excepting the few hundreds in the local bank for household
expenses. It is four years ago now, and to this day not one farthing
has turned up.’
‘Penny plain, and twopence coloured,’ the American said sententiously—‘to
be continued in our next. There’s the making of a sound family romance
about this.—Anything more?’
‘A little. An old companion of my wife’s turned up the other day—or
I should say my wife found her accidentally in London. She was
standing in the rain on Waterloo Bridge, looking into the water.—You
comprehend, don’t you?’
‘“One more unfortunate, weary of breath,”’ quoted Mr Slimm with a
tender inflection which surprised Edgar. ‘Go on.’
‘It was a wonderful coincidence, if nothing more. It appeared that my
wife’s uncle on his dying bed gave her a paper for my wife; and he
charged her most solemnly to find her and deliver it, which has been
done.’
‘And it was some secret cipher, bet my boots.’
‘On the contrary, it is only a letter—a valedictory letter, containing
no clue whatever.’
‘Stranger, you take this matter sort of calm,’ said Slimm solemnly. ‘I
should like to see that letter. Mark me; providence has a hand in this,
and I want you not to forget it. Such a meeting as that between your
wife and her old companion didn’t happen for nothing. Listen, and I’ll
tell you what once happened to me in Australia. I shall never forget
it. I’m a rich man now, for my wants; but I was poor then; in fact, it
was just at the time when fortune had turned. I had, at the time I am
speaking of, nearly a thousand ounces of dust buried in my tent. As
far as I could tell, not a soul in the camp knew what I had, as I had
kept it quiet. Well, one night, I started out to visit an old chum in
a neighbouring claim. It was nearly dark when I started, and I had no
companion but my dog. I had not gone very far when he began to act in
a ridiculous manner, barking and snapping at my horse’s heels, till I
thought he was stark mad. Then he turned towards home, stopping every
now and then to whine, and finally he struck off home in a bee-line.
I rode on, never thinking anything about it till suddenly my horse
stumbled and nearly threw me. He had never done such a thing before,
and I hadn’t got twenty yards before he did it again. Stranger! I
want you to believe I was scared, and I don’t scare easy either. Then
I thought of the tales I had read about dogs and their cunning, and,
urged by something I can’t understand, I turned back. You’d better
believe I’m glad I did. When I got back to my tent, I stole in quietly,
and there were three of the biggest scoundrels in the camp digging away
exactly over the gold. I didn’t give them much time for meditation, I
reckon. It was a tough fight; but I saved my gold. I got this valentine
to remember it by; darn their ugly pictures;’ and Mr Slimm bared his
huge chest, and displayed a livid gash seamed and lined thereon.
‘And the robbers—what became of them?’
‘Suffocation,’ Slimm replied laconically. ‘The quality of mercy is
strained pretty considerable in a mining camp.’
‘And the dog?’
‘Dead!—killed by these scoundrels. I ain’t powerful in the water-cart
line; but I don’t mind saying I snivelled then. I can’t think of that
faithful insect without a kind of lumpiness in my throat—And now, my
friend, don’t you tell me there’s no such thing as fate. You mind if
your affair don’t turn out trumps yet.’
‘I don’t think so,’ Edgar replied dubiously. ‘It is all forgotten now,
though it was a nine days’ wonder in Somersetshire at the time.’
‘Somersetshire? Now, that’s strange. I’m going to Somersetshire in a
few days to see a man I haven’t set eyes on for years. He is a very
different man from me—a quiet, scholarly gentleman, a little older
than myself. He is a bookish sort of man; and I met him in the mines.
We kind of froze to each other; and when we parted, it was understood
that whenever I came to England, I was to go and see him. What part of
Somersetshire do you hail from?’
‘The name of my wife’s old home is Eastwood.’
‘Eastwood? Tell me quickly, is it possible that your wife’s uncle is Mr
Charles Morton?’
‘The same,’ Edgar gasped.—‘What do you know of him?’
‘What do I know of him? Why, he was the man I was going to visit; and
he’s dead, poor old fellow! You see, I always liked him, and once I
saved his life. It’s a curious thing, but when you do a man a favour,
or save his life, or any trifle of that kind, you always get to like
him some way. Poor old Morton! Well, if this don’t beat snakes! And
your wife is the little Nelly he was always raving about? Dear, dear!’
‘There must be something more than meets the eye here,’ Edgar said,
with a little quaver in his voice. ‘Taking all the circumstances into
consideration, it looks as if some inscrutable providence has a hand in
it.’
‘You bet. I’m not particularly learned, nor no scholar; but I do
remember some lines of your immortal poet which tells us “There’s a
divinity that shapes our ends, rough-hew them how we will.” The more I
think of life, the more it puzzles me, and that’s a fact. To think of
you and I—two people in five millions—meeting by such chance! And to
think of your wife being the niece of my old friend!’
‘Did he speak much of her to you?’ Edgar asked.
‘A few. “Speak” is no word for it: he raved about her. If ever a man
loved a girl, it was your uncle. You must not judge him harshly.’
‘I do not; I never did. That there has been collusion, or something
more, I have always been convinced. He was so fond of me till his
half-sister came; and as to Nelly, he worshipped her.’
‘He just did, I know. I should like to see that letter.’
‘So you shall; but really, I can see nothing in it.’
‘Try and describe it to me.’
‘That is soon done. It is a commonplace epistle, saying he wished to be
remembered as a friend, asking me to forgive him, and hinting that if
he had his life to live over again, how different things would be.’
‘That is only a blind, perhaps.—Describe the letter.’
‘It is written on part of a sheet of foolscap; and from the beginning
of the first line to the finish, the paper is covered with writing.’
‘No heading or superscription, no signature?’ queried Mr Slimm.
‘No; it is not signed; but is precisely like a letter without heading
or signature trimmed close up to the writing with a pair of scissors.’
‘And is it folded, or are there any lines about it?’
‘It is folded like an ordinary note, and there are various horizontal
and perpendicular lines upon it. The lines are dotted. Can you make
anything of it?’
‘Yes,’ said the American quietly. ‘I can make fortune of it. Show me
that letter for five minutes, and I will show you something you would
give ten thousand pounds to see.’
And so, arranging for an early meeting, they parted for the day.
* * * * *
Next morning, Eleanor told her husband of a curious dream she had had
during the night. She thought she stood on a strange shore, with the
sea spread out before her to the utmost horizon. It was sunrise, and
coming towards her over the quiet waters, was a great ship—an ‘Argosy
with golden sails’—and somehow she thought it brought golden treasure
for her. Three times she dreamed the dream, and saw the stately ship.
She asked Edgar what he thought of it. He said that dreams went by
contraries.
(_To be concluded next month._)