A curious experience? said the Doctor. Yes, my friends, I have had one
very curious experience. I never expect to have another, for it is
against all doctrines of chances that two such events would befall any
one man in a single lifetime. You may believe me or not, but the thing
happened exactly as I tell it.
I had just become a medical man, but I had not started in practice, and
I lived in rooms in Gower Street. The street has been renumbered since
then, but it was in the only house which has a bow-window, upon the
left-hand side as you go down from the Metropolitan Station. A widow
named Murchison kept the house at that time, and she had three medical
students and one engineer as lodgers. I occupied the top room, which was
the cheapest, but cheap as it was it was more than I could afford. My
small resources were dwindling away, and every week it became more
necessary that I should find something to do. Yet I was very unwilling
to go into general practice, for my tastes were all in the direction of
science, and especially of zoology, towards which I had always a strong
leaning. I had almost given the fight up and resigned myself to being a
medical drudge for life, when the turning-point of my struggles came in
a very extraordinary way.
One morning I had picked up the _Standard_ and was glancing over its
contents. There was a complete absence of news, and I was about to toss
the paper down again, when my eyes were caught by an advertisement at
the head of the personal column. It was worded in this way:—
Wanted for one or more days the services of a medical man. It
is essential that he should be a man of strong physique, of
steady nerves, and of a resolute nature. Must be an
entomologist—coleopterist preferred. Apply, in person, at 77B,
Brook Street. Application must be made before twelve o’clock
to-day.
Now, I have already said that I was devoted to zoology. Of all branches
of zoology, the study of insects was the most attractive to me, and of
all insects beetles were the species with which I was most familiar.
Butterfly collectors are numerous, but beetles are far more varied, and
more accessible in these islands than are butterflies. It was this fact
which had attracted my attention to them, and I had myself made a
collection which numbered some hundred varieties. As to the other
requisites of the advertisement, I knew that my nerves could be depended
upon, and I had won the weight-throwing competition at the
inter-hospital sports. Clearly, I was the very man for the vacancy.
Within five minutes of my having read the advertisement I was in a cab
and on my way to Brook Street.
As I drove, I kept turning the matter over in my head and trying to make
a guess as to what sort of employment it could be which needed such
curious qualifications. A strong physique, a resolute nature, a medical
training, and a knowledge of beetles—what connection could there be
between these various requisites? And then there was the disheartening
fact that the situation was not a permanent one, but terminable from day
to day, according to the terms of the advertisement. The more I pondered
over it the more unintelligible did it become; but at the end of my
meditations I always came back to the ground fact that, come what might,
I had nothing to lose, that I was completely at the end of my resources,
and that I was ready for any adventure, however desperate, which would
put a few honest sovereigns into my pocket. The man fears to fail who
has to pay for his failure, but there was no penalty which Fortune could
exact from me. I was like the gambler with empty pockets, who is still
allowed to try his luck with the others.
No. 77B, Brook Street, was one of those dingy and yet imposing houses,
dun-coloured and flat-faced, with the intensely respectable and solid
air which marks the Georgian builder. As I alighted from the cab, a
young man came out of the door and walked swiftly down the street. In
passing me, I noticed that he cast an inquisitive and somewhat
malevolent glance at me, and I took the incident as a good omen, for his
appearance was that of a rejected candidate, and if he resented my
application it meant that the vacancy was not yet filled up. Full of
hope, I ascended the broad steps and rapped with the heavy knocker.
A footman in powder and livery opened the door. Clearly I was in touch
with people of wealth and fashion.
“Yes, sir?” said the footman.
“I came in answer to——”
“Quite so, sir,” said the footman. “Lord Linchmere will see you at once
in the library.”
Lord Linchmere! I had vaguely heard the name, but could not for the
instant recall anything about him. Following the footman, I was shown
into a large, book-lined room in which there was seated behind a
writing-desk a small man with a pleasant, clean-shaven, mobile face, and
long hair shot with grey, brushed back from his forehead. He looked me
up and down with a very shrewd, penetrating glance, holding the card
which the footman had given him in his right hand. Then he smiled
pleasantly, and I felt that externally at any rate I possessed the
qualifications which he desired.
“You have come in answer to my advertisement, Dr. Hamilton?” he asked.
“Yes, sir.”
“Do you fulfil the conditions which are there laid down?”
“I believe that I do.”
“You are a powerful man, or so I should judge from your appearance.”
“I think that I am fairly strong.”
“And resolute?”
“I believe so.”
“Have you ever known what it was to be exposed to imminent danger?”
“No, I don’t know that I ever have.”
“But you think you would be prompt and cool at such a time?”
“I hope so.”
“Well, I believe that you would. I have the more confidence in you
because you do not pretend to be certain as to what you would do in a
position that was new to you. My impression is that, so far as personal
qualities go, you are the very man of whom I am in search. That being
settled, we may pass on to the next point.”
“Which is?”
“To talk to me about beetles.”
I looked across to see if he was joking, but, on the contrary, he was
leaning eagerly forward across his desk, and there was an expression of
something like anxiety in his eyes.
“I am afraid that you do not know about beetles,” he cried.
“On the contrary, sir, it is the one scientific subject about which I
feel that I really do know something.”
“I am overjoyed to hear it. Please talk to me about beetles.”
I talked. I do not profess to have said anything original upon the
subject, but I gave a short sketch of the characteristics of the beetle,
and ran over the more common species, with some allusions to the
specimens in my own little collection and to the article upon “Burying
Beetles” which I had contributed to the _Journal of Entomological
Science_.
“What! not a collector?” cried Lord Linchmere. “You don’t mean that you
are yourself a collector?” His eyes danced with pleasure at the thought.
“You are certainly the very man in London for my purpose. I thought that
among five millions of people there must be such a man, but the
difficulty is to lay one’s hands upon him. I have been extraordinarily
fortunate in finding you.”
He rang a gong upon the table, and the footman entered.
“Ask Lady Rossiter to have the goodness to step this way,” said his
lordship, and a few moments later the lady was ushered into the room.
She was a small, middle-aged woman, very like Lord Linchmere in
appearance, with the same quick, alert features and grey-black hair. The
expression of anxiety, however, which I had observed upon his face was
very much more marked upon hers. Some great grief seemed to have cast
its shadow over her features. As Lord Linchmere presented me she turned
her face full upon me, and I was shocked to observe a half-healed scar
extending for two inches over her right eyebrow. It was partly concealed
by plaster, but none the less I could see that it had been a serious
wound and not long inflicted.
“Dr. Hamilton is the very man for our purpose, Evelyn,” said Lord
Linchmere. “He is actually a collector of beetles, and he has written
articles upon the subject.”
“Really!” said Lady Rossiter. “Then you must have heard of my husband.
Every one who knows anything about beetles must have heard of Sir Thomas
Rossiter.”
For the first time a thin little ray of light began to break into the
obscure business. Here, at last, was a connection between these people
and beetles. Sir Thomas Rossiter—he was the greatest authority upon the
subject in the world. He had made it his life-long study, and had
written a most exhaustive work upon it. I hastened to assure her that I
had read and appreciated it.
“Have you met my husband?” she asked.
“No, I have not.”
“But you shall,” said Lord Linchmere, with decision.
The lady was standing beside the desk, and she put her hand upon his
shoulder. It was obvious to me as I saw their faces together that they
were brother and sister.
“Are you really prepared for this, Charles? It is noble of you, but you
fill me with fears.” Her voice quavered with apprehension, and he
appeared to me to be equally moved, though he was making strong efforts
to conceal his agitation.
“Yes, yes, dear; it is all settled, it is all decided; in fact, there is
no other possible way, that I can see.”
“There is one obvious way.”
“No, no, Evelyn, I shall never abandon you—never. It will come
right—depend upon it; it will come right, and surely it looks like the
interference of Providence that so perfect an instrument should be put
into our hands.”
My position was embarrassing, for I felt that for the instant they had
forgotten my presence. But Lord Linchmere came back suddenly to me and
to my engagement.
“The business for which I want you, Dr. Hamilton, is that you should put
yourself absolutely at my disposal. I wish you to come for a short
journey with me, to remain always at my side, and to promise to do
without question whatever I may ask you, however unreasonable it may
appear to you to be.”
“That is a good deal to ask,” said I.
“Unfortunately I cannot put it more plainly, for I do not myself know
what turn matters may take. You may be sure, however, that you will not
be asked to do anything which your conscience does not approve; and I
promise you that, when all is over, you will be proud to have been
concerned in so good a work.”
“If it ends happily,” said the lady.
“Exactly; if it ends happily,” his lordship repeated.
“And terms?” I asked.
“Twenty pounds a day.”
I was amazed at the sum, and must have showed my surprise upon my
features.
“It is a rare combination of qualities, as must have struck you when you
first read the advertisement,” said Lord Linchmere; “such varied gifts
may well command a high return, and I do not conceal from you that your
duties might be arduous or even dangerous. Besides, it is possible that
one or two days may bring the matter to an end.”
“Please God!” sighed his sister.
“So now, Dr. Hamilton, may I rely upon your aid?”
“Most undoubtedly,” said I. “You have only to tell me what my duties
are.”
“Your first duty will be to return to your home. You will pack up
whatever you may need for a short visit to the country. We start
together from Paddington Station at 3.40 this afternoon.”
“Do we go far?”
“As far as Pangbourne. Meet me at the bookstall at 3.30. I shall have
the tickets. Good-bye, Dr. Hamilton! And, by the way, there are two
things which I should be very glad if you would bring with you, in case
you have them. One is your case for collecting beetles, and the other is
a stick, and the thicker and heavier the better.”
* * * * *
You may imagine that I had plenty to think of from the time that I left
Brook Street until I set out to meet Lord Linchmere at Paddington. The
whole fantastic business kept arranging and re-arranging itself in
kaleidoscopic forms inside my brain, until I had thought out a dozen
explanations, each of them more grotesquely improbable than the last.
And yet I felt that the truth must be something grotesquely improbable
also. At last I gave up all attempts at finding a solution, and
contented myself with exactly carrying out the instructions which I had
received. With a hand valise, specimen-case, and a loaded cane, I was
waiting at the Paddington bookstall when Lord Linchmere arrived. He was
an even smaller man than I had thought—frail and peaky, with a manner
which was more nervous than it had been in the morning. He wore a long,
thick travelling ulster, and I observed that he carried a heavy
blackthorn cudgel in his hand.
“I have the tickets,” said he, leading the way up the platform. “This is
our train. I have engaged a carriage, for I am particularly anxious to
impress one or two things upon you while we travel down.”
And yet all that he had to impress upon me might have been said in a
sentence, for it was that I was to remember that I was there as a
protection to himself, and that I was not on any consideration to leave
him for an instant. This he repeated again and again as our journey drew
to a close, with an insistence which showed that his nerves were
thoroughly shaken.
“Yes,” he said at last, in answer to my looks rather than to my words,
“I _am_ nervous, Dr. Hamilton. I have always been a timid man, and my
timidity depends upon my frail physical health. But my soul is firm, and
I can bring myself up to face a danger which a less nervous man might
shrink from. What I am doing now is done from no compulsion, but
entirely from a sense of duty, and yet it is, beyond doubt, a desperate
risk. If things should go wrong, I will have some claims to the title of
martyr.”
This eternal reading of riddles was too much for me. I felt that I must
put a term to it.
“I think it would be very much better, sir, if you were to trust me
entirely,” said I. “It is impossible for me to act effectively, when I
do not know what are the objects which we have in view, or even where we
are going.”
“Oh, as to where we are going, there need be no mystery about that,”
said he; “we are going to Delamere Court, the residence of Sir Thomas
Rossiter, with whose work you are so conversant. As to the exact object
of our visit, I do not know that at this stage of the proceedings
anything would be gained, Dr. Hamilton, by my taking you into my
complete confidence. I may tell you that we are acting—I say ‘we,’
because my sister, Lady Rossiter, takes the same view as myself—with the
one object of preventing anything in the nature of a family scandal.
That being so, you can understand that I am loth to give any
explanations which are not absolutely necessary. It would be a different
matter, Dr. Hamilton, if I were asking your advice. As matters stand, it
is only your active help which I need, and I will indicate to you from
time to time how you can best give it.”
There was nothing more to be said, and a poor man can put up with a good
deal for twenty pounds a day, but I felt none the less that Lord
Linchmere was acting rather scurvily towards me. He wished to convert me
into a passive tool, like the blackthorn in his hand. With his sensitive
disposition I could imagine, however, that scandal would be abhorrent to
him, and I realized that he would not take me into his confidence until
no other course was open to him. I must trust to my own eyes and ears to
solve the mystery, but I had every confidence that I should not trust to
them in vain.
Delamere Court lies a good five miles from Pangbourne Station, and we
drove for that distance in an open fly. Lord Linchmere sat in deep
thought during the time, and he never opened his mouth until we were
close to our destination. When he did speak it was to give me a piece of
information which surprised me.
“Perhaps you are not aware,” said he, “that I am a medical man like
yourself?”
“No, sir, I did not know it.”
“Yes, I qualified in my younger days, when there were several lives
between me and the peerage. I have not had occasion to practise, but I
have found it a useful education, all the same. I never regretted the
years which I devoted to medical study. These are the gates of Delamere
Court.”
We had come to two high pillars crowned with heraldic monsters which
flanked the opening of a winding avenue. Over the laurel bushes and
rhododendrons I could see a long, many-gabled mansion, girdled with ivy,
and toned to the warm, cheery, mellow glow of old brick-work. My eyes
were still fixed in admiration upon this delightful house when my
companion plucked nervously at my sleeve.
“Here’s Sir Thomas,” he whispered. “Please talk beetle all you can.”
A tall, thin figure, curiously angular and bony, had emerged through a
gap in the hedge of laurels. In his hand he held a spud, and he wore
gauntleted gardener’s gloves. A broad-brimmed, grey hat cast his face
into shadow, but it struck me as exceedingly austere, with an
ill-nourished beard and harsh, irregular features. The fly pulled up and
Lord Linchmere sprang out.
“My dear Thomas, how are you?” said he, heartily.
But the heartiness was by no means reciprocal. The owner of the grounds
glared at me over his brother-in-law’s shoulder, and I caught broken
scraps of sentences—“well-known wishes ... hatred of strangers ...
unjustifiable intrusion ... perfectly inexcusable.” Then there was a
muttered explanation, and the two of them came over together to the side
of the fly.
“Let me present you to Sir Thomas Rossiter, Dr. Hamilton,” said Lord
Linchmere. “You will find that you have a strong community of tastes.”
I bowed. Sir Thomas stood very stiffly, looking at me severely from
under the broad brim of his hat.
“Lord Linchmere tells me that you know something about beetles,” said
he. “What do you know about beetles?”
“I know what I have learned from your work upon the coleoptera, Sir
Thomas,” I answered.
“Give me the names of the better-known species of the British scarabæi,”
said he.
I had not expected an examination, but fortunately I was ready for one.
My answers seemed to please him, for his stern features relaxed.
“You appear to have read my book with some profit, sir,” said he. “It is
a rare thing for me to meet any one who takes an intelligent interest in
such matters. People can find time for such trivialities as sport or
society, and yet the beetles are overlooked. I can assure you that the
greater part of the idiots in this part of the country are unaware that
I have ever written a book at all—I, the first man who ever described
the true function of the elytra. I am glad to see you, sir, and I have
no doubt that I can show you some specimens which will interest you.” He
stepped into the fly and drove up with us to the house, expounding to me
as we went some recent researches which he had made into the anatomy of
the lady-bird.
I have said that Sir Thomas Rossiter wore a large hat drawn down over
his brows. As he entered the hall he uncovered himself, and I was at
once aware of a singular characteristic which the hat had concealed. His
forehead, which was naturally high, and higher still on account of
receding hair, was in a continual state of movement. Some nervous
weakness kept the muscles in a constant spasm, which sometimes produced
a mere twitching and sometimes a curious rotary movement unlike anything
which I had ever seen before. It was strikingly visible as he turned
towards us after entering the study, and seemed the more singular from
the contrast with the hard, steady grey eyes which looked out from
underneath those palpitating brows.
“I am sorry,” said he, “that Lady Rossiter is not here to help me to
welcome you. By the way, Charles, did Evelyn say anything about the date
of her return?”
“She wished to stay in town for a few more days,” said Lord Linchmere.
“You know how ladies’ social duties accumulate if they have been for
some time in the country. My sister has many old friends in London at
present.”
“Well, she is her own mistress, and I should not wish to alter her
plans, but I shall be glad when I see her again. It is very lonely here
without her company.”
“I was afraid that you might find it so, and that was partly why I ran
down. My young friend, Dr. Hamilton, is so much interested in the
subject which you have made your own, that I thought you would not mind
his accompanying me.”
“I lead a retired life, Dr. Hamilton, and my aversion to strangers grows
upon me,” said our host. “I have sometimes thought that my nerves are
not so good as they were. My travels in search of beetles in my younger
days took me into many malarious and unhealthy places. But a brother
coleopterist like yourself is always a welcome guest, and I shall be
delighted if you will look over my collection, which I think that I may
without exaggeration describe as the best in Europe.”
And so no doubt it was. He had a huge oaken cabinet arranged in shallow
drawers, and here, neatly ticketed and classified, were beetles from
every corner of the earth, black, brown, blue, green, and mottled. Every
now and then as he swept his hand over the lines and lines of impaled
insects he would catch up some rare specimen, and, handling it with as
much delicacy and reverence as if it were a precious relic, he would
hold forth upon its peculiarities and the circumstances under which it
came into his possession. It was evidently an unusual thing for him to
meet with a sympathetic listener, and he talked and talked until the
spring evening had deepened into night, and the gong announced that it
was time to dress for dinner. All the time Lord Linchmere said nothing,
but he stood at his brother-in-law’s elbow, and I caught him continually
shooting curious little, questioning glances into his face. And his own
features expressed some strong emotion, apprehension, sympathy,
expectation: I seemed to read them all. I was sure that Lord Linchmere
was fearing something and awaiting something, but what that something
might be I could not imagine.
The evening passed quietly but pleasantly, and I should have been
entirely at my ease if it had not been for that continual sense of
tension upon the part of Lord Linchmere. As to our host, I found that he
improved upon acquaintance. He spoke constantly with affection of his
absent wife, and also of his little son, who had recently been sent to
school. The house, he said, was not the same without them. If it were
not for his scientific studies, he did not know how he could get through
the days. After dinner we smoked for some time in the billiard-room, and
finally went early to bed.
And then it was that, for the first time, the suspicion that Lord
Linchmere was a lunatic crossed my mind. He followed me into my bedroom,
when our host had retired.
“Doctor,” said he, speaking in a low, hurried voice, “you must come with
me. You must spend the night in my bedroom.”
“What do you mean?”
“I prefer not to explain. But this is part of your duties. My room is
close by, and you can return to your own before the servant calls you in
the morning.”
“But why?” I asked.
“Because I am nervous of being alone,” said he. “That’s the reason,
since you must have a reason.”
It seemed rank lunacy, but the argument of those twenty pounds would
overcome many objections. I followed him to his room.
“Well,” said I, “there’s only room for one in that bed.”
“Only one shall occupy it,” said he.
“And the other?”
“Must remain, on watch.”
“Why?” said I. “One would think you expected to be attacked.”
“Perhaps I do.”
“In that case, why not lock your door?”
“Perhaps I _want_ to be attacked.”
It looked more and more like lunacy. However, there was nothing for it
but to submit. I shrugged my shoulders and sat down in the arm-chair
beside the empty fireplace.
“I am to remain on watch, then?” said I, ruefully.
“We will divide the night. If you will watch until two, I will watch the
remainder.”
“Very good.”
“Call me at two o’clock, then.”
“I will do so.”
“Keep your ears open, and if you hear any sounds wake me
instantly—instantly, you hear?”
“You can rely upon it.” I tried to look as solemn as he did.
“And for God’s sake don’t go to sleep,” said he, and so, taking off only
his coat, he threw the coverlet over him and settled down for the night.
It was a melancholy vigil, and made more so by my own sense of its
folly. Supposing that by any chance Lord Linchmere had cause to suspect
that he was subject to danger in the house of Sir Thomas Rossiter, why
on earth could he not lock his door and so protect himself? His own
answer that he might wish to be attacked was absurd. Why should he
possibly wish to be attacked? And who would wish to attack him? Clearly,
Lord Linchmere was suffering from some singular delusion, and the result
was that on an imbecile pretext I was to be deprived of my night’s rest.
Still, however absurd, I was determined to carry out his injunctions to
the letter as long as I was in his employment. I sat therefore beside
the empty fireplace, and listened to a sonorous chiming clock somewhere
down the passage, which gurgled and struck every quarter of an hour. It
was an endless vigil. Save for that single clock, an absolute silence
reigned throughout the great house. A small lamp stood on the table at
my elbow, throwing a circle of light round my chair, but leaving the
corners of the room draped in shadow. On the bed Lord Linchmere was
breathing peacefully. I envied him his quiet sleep, and again and again
my own eyelids drooped, but every time my sense of duty came to my help,
and I sat up, rubbing my eyes and pinching myself with a determination
to see my irrational watch to an end.
And I did so. From down the passage came the chimes of two o’clock, and
I laid my hand upon the shoulder of the sleeper. Instantly he was
sitting up, with an expression of the keenest interest upon his face.
“You have heard something?”
“No, sir. It is two o’clock.”
“Very good. I will watch. You can go to sleep.” I lay down under the
coverlet as he had done, and was soon unconscious. My last recollection
was of that circle of lamplight, and of the small, hunched-up figure and
strained, anxious face of Lord Linchmere in the centre of it.
How long I slept I do not know; but I was suddenly aroused by a sharp
tug at my sleeve. The room was in darkness, but a hot smell of oil told
me that the lamp had only that instant been extinguished.
“Quick! Quick!” said Lord Linchmere’s voice in my ear.