A LETTER.
Mr. Longcluse knocked at Sir Richard's house in May Fair, and sent
up-stairs for the baronet. It was about the same hour at which Mr. Levi
was drinking his thirsty potation of brandy and soda at the "Guy of
Warwick." The streets were darker than that comparatively open place,
and the gas lamp threw its red outline of the sashes upon the dark
ceiling, as Mr. Longcluse stood in the drawing-room between the windows,
in his great-coat, with his hat on, looking in the dark like an image
made of fog.
Sir Richard Arden entered the room.
"You were not at Mortlake to-day," said he.
"No."
"There's a cab at the door that will take you there; your absence for a
whole day would excite surmise. Don't stay more than five minutes, and
don't mention Louisa Diaper's name, and account for the locking up of
all the house, but one suite of rooms, I directed, and come to my house
in Bolton Street, direct from Mortlake. That's all."
Without another word, Mr. Longcluse took his departure.
In this cavalier way, and in a cold tone that conveyed all the menace
and insult involved in his ruined position, had this conceited young man
been ordered about by his betrayer, on his cruel behests, ever since he
had come under his dreadful rod. The iron trap that held him fast,
locked him in a prison from which, except through the door of death,
there seemed no escape.
Outraged pride, the terrors of suspense, the shame and remorse of his
own enormous perfidy against his only sister, peopled it with spectres.
As he drove out to Mortlake, pale, frowning, with folded arms, his
handsome face thinned and drawn by the cords of pain, he made up his
mind. He knocked furiously at Mortlake Hall door. The woman in the
canvas apron let him in. The strange face startled him; he had been
thinking so intently of one thing. Going up, through the darkened house,
with but one candle, and tapping at the door, on the floor above the
drawing-room, within which Alice was sitting, with Louisa Diaper for
company, and looking at her unsuspicious smile, he felt what a heinous
conspirator he was.
He made an excuse for sending the maid to the next room after they had
spoken a few words, and then he said,--
"Suppose, Alice, we were to change our plan, would you like to come
abroad? Out of this you must come immediately." He was speaking low. "I
am in great danger; I must go abroad. For your life, don't seem to
suspect anything. Do exactly as I tell you, or else I am utterly ruined,
and you, Alice, on your account, very miserable. Don't ask a question,
or look a look, that may make Louisa Diaper suspect that you have any
doubt as to your going to Arden, or any suspicion of any danger. She is
quite true, but not wise, and your left hand must not know what your
right hand is doing. Don't be frightened, only be steady and calm. Get
together any jewels and money you have, and as little else as you can
possibly manage with. Do this yourself; Louisa Diaper must know nothing
of it. I will mature our plans, and to-morrow or next day I shall see
you again; I can stay but a moment now, and have but time to bid you
good-night."
Then he kissed her. How horribly agitated he looked! How cold was the
pressure of his hand!
"Hush!" he whispered, and his dark eyes were fixed on the door through
which he expected the return of the maid. And as he heard her step, "Not
a word, remember!" he said; then bidding her good-night aloud, he
quitted the room almost as suddenly as he had appeared, leaving her, for
the first time, in the horrors of a growing panic.
Sir Richard leaned back in the cab as he drove into town. He had as yet
no plan formed. It was a more complicated exploit than he was at the
moment equal to. In Mortlake were two fellows, by way of protectors,
placed there for security of the house and people.
These men held possession of the keys of the house, and sat and regaled
themselves with their hot punch, or cold brandy and water, and pipes;
always one awake, and with ears erect, they kept watch and ward in the
room to the right of the hall-door, in which Sir Richard and Uncle David
had conversed with the sad Mr. Plumes, on the evening after the old
baronet's death. To effect Alice's escape, and reserve for himself a
chance of accomplishing his own, was a problem demanding skill, cunning,
and audacity.
While he revolved these things an alarm had been sounded in another
quarter, which unexpectedly opened a chance of extrication, sudden and
startling.
Mr. Longcluse was destined to a surprise to-night. Mr. Longcluse, at his
own house, was awaiting the return of Sir Richard. Overlooked in his
usually accurate though rapid selection, a particularly shabby and
vulgar-looking letter had been thrown aside among circulars, pamphlets,
and begging letters, to await his leisure. It was a letter from Paris,
and vulgar and unbusiness-like as it looked, there was yet, in its
peculiar scrivenery that which, a little more attentively scanned,
thrilled him with a terrible misgiving. The post-mark showed it had been
delivered four days before. When he saw from whom it came, and had
gathered something of its meaning from a few phrases, his dark eyes
gleamed and his face grew stern. Was this wretch's hoof to strike to
pieces the plans he had so nearly matured? The letter was as follows:--
"SIR,
"Mr Longcluse, I have been unfortunate With your money which you
have Gave me to remove from England, and Keep me in New York. My
boxes, and other things, and Ballens of the money in Gold, except
about a Hundred pounds, which has kep me from want ever sense, went
Down in the Mary Jane, of London, and my cousin went down in her
also, which I might as well av Went down myself in her, only for me
Stopping in Paris, where I made a trifle of Money, intending to go
Out in August. Now, Sir, don't you Seppose I am not in as good
Possition as I was when I Harranged with sum difculty With you. The
boot with The blood Mark on the Soul is not Lost nor Distroyed, but
it is Safe in my Custody; so as Likewise in safe Keeping is The
traising, in paper, of the foot Mark in blood on the Floar of the
Smoaking Room in question, with the signatures of the witnesses
attached; and, Moreover, my Staitment made in the Form of a
Information, at the Time, and signed In witness of My signature by
two Unekseptinible witnesses. And all Is ready to Produise whenevor
his worshop shall Apoynt. i have wrote To mister david Arden on this
Supget. i wrote to him just a week ago, he seaming To take a Intrast
in this Heer case; and, moreover, the two ieyes that sawd a certain
Person about the said smoaking Room, and in the saime, is Boath wide
open at This presen Time. mister Longcluse i do not Want to have
your Life, but gustice must Taike its coarse unless it is settled of
hand Slik. i will harrange the Same as last time, And i must have
two hundred And fifty pounds More on this Settlement than i Had last
time, for Dellay and loss of Time in this town. I will sign any law
paper in reason you may ask of me. My hadress is under cover to
Monseer Letexier, air-dresser, and incloses his card, which you Will
please send an Anser by return Of post, or else i Must sepose you
chose The afare shall take Its coarse; and i am as ever,
"Your obeediant servant to command,
"PAUL DAVIES."
Never did paper look so dazzlingly white, or letters so intensely black,
before Mr. Longcluse's eyes, as those of this ominous letter. He
crumpled it up, and thrust it in his trousers pocket, and gave to the
position a few seconds of intense thought.
His first thought was, what a fool he was for not having driven Davies
to the wall, and settled the matter with the high hand of the law at
once. His next, what could bring him to Paris? He was there for
something. To see possibly the family of Lebas, and collect and dovetail
pieces of evidence, after his detective practice, a process which would
be sure to conduct him to the Baron Vanboeren! Was this story of the
boot and the tracing of the bloodstained foot-print true? Had this
scoundrel reserved the strongest part of his case for this new
extortion? Was his trouble to be never ending? If this accursed ferret
were once to get into his warren, what power could unearth him, till the
mischief was done?
His eye caught again the words, on which, in the expressive phrase which
Mr. Davies would have used, his "sight spred" as he held the letter
before his eyes--"Mister Loncluse, i do not want to have your life." He
ground his teeth, shook his fist in the air, and stamped on the floor
with fury, at the thought that a brutal detective, not able to spell two
words, and trained for such game as London thieves and burglars, should
dare to hold such language to a man of thought and skill, altogether so
masterly as he! That he should be outwitted by that clumsy scoundrel!
Well, it was now to begin all over again. It should all go right this
time. He thought again for a moment, and then sat down and wrote,
commencing with the date and address--
"PAUL DAVIES,
"I have just received your note, which states that you have
succeeded in obtaining some additional information, which you think
may lead to the conviction of the murderer of M. Lebas, in the
Saloon Tavern. I shall be most happy to pay handsomely any expense
of any kind you may be put to in that matter. It is, indeed, no more
than I had already undertaken. I am glad to learn that you have also
written on the subject to Mr. David Arden, who feels entirely with
me. I shall take an early opportunity of seeing him. Persist in your
laudable exertions, and I shall not shrink from rewarding you
handsomely.
"Yours,
"WALTER LONGCLUSE."
He addressed the letter carefully, and went himself and put it in the
post-office.
By this time Sir Richard Arden was awaiting him at home in his
drawing-room, and as he walked homeward, under the lamps, in inward
pain, one might have moralised with Peter Pindar--
"These fleas have other fleas to bite 'em
And so on _ad infinitum_."
The secret tyrant had in his turn found a secret tyrant, not less cruel
perhaps, but more ignoble.
"You made your visit?" asked Mr. Longcluse.
"Yes."
"Anything to report?"
"Absolutely nothing."
A silence followed.
"Where is Mr. Arden, your uncle?"
"In Scotland."
"How soon does he return?"
"He will not be in town till spring, I believe; he is going abroad, but
he passes through Southampton on his way to the Continent, on Friday
next."
"And makes some little stay there?"
"I think he stays one night."
"Then I'll go down and see him, and you shall come with me."
Sir Richard stared.
"Yes, and you had better not put your foot in it; and clear your head of
all notion of running away," he said, fixing his fiery eyes on Sir
Richard, with a sudden ferocity that made him fancy that his secret
thoughts had revealed themselves under that piercing gaze. "It is not
easy to levant now-a-days, unless one has swifter wings than the wires
can carry news with; and if you are false, what more do I need than to
blast you? and with your name in the _Hue-and-Cry_, and a thousand
pounds reward for the apprehension of Sir Richard Arden, Baronet, for
forgery, I don't see much more that infamy can do for you."
A dark flush crossed Arden's face as he rose.
"Not a word now," cried Longcluse harshly, extending his hand quickly
towards him; "I may do that which can't be undone."