How the ensuing hours between this horrible episode and full morning
elapsed I do not know. I was dead to all impressions. I woke at last, or
rather recovered my senses to see the sunlight pouring pleasantly
through the half-drawn curtains at my window, and to find myself in bed
in as restful a position as though I had never left it. Was it then
merely a vision I had seen?--a ghastly sort of nightmare? If so, it was
surely the most abhorrent illusion ever evolved from dreamland! It could
not be a question of health, for I had never felt better in my life. I
lay for some time quiescent, thinking over the matter, with my eyes
fixed on that part of the room where those Three Shapes had seemingly
stood; but I had lately got into such a habit of cool self-analysis,
that by the time my valet brought my early cup of coffee, I had decided
that the whole thing was a dreadful fantasy, born of my own imagination,
which had no doubt been unduly excited by the affair of Viscount
Lynton's suicide. I soon learned that there was no room left for doubt
as to that unhappy young nobleman's actual death. A brief account of it
was in the morning papers, though as the tragedy had occurred so late at
night there were no details. A vague hint of 'money difficulties' was
thrown out in one journal,--but beyond that, and the statement that the
body had been conveyed to the mortuary there to await an inquest, there
was nothing said, either personal or particular. I found Lucio in the
smoking-room, and it was he who first silently pointed out to me the
short paragraph headed 'Suicide of a Viscount.'
"I told you he was a good shot!" he commented.
I nodded. Somehow I had ceased to feel much interest in the subject. My
emotion of the previous evening had apparently exhausted all my stock of
sympathy and left me coldly indifferent. Absorbed in myself and my own
concerns, I sat down to talk and was not long before I had given a full
and circumstantial account of the spectral illusion which had so
unpleasantly troubled me during the night. Lucio listened, smiling
oddly.
"That old Tokay was evidently too strong for you!" he said, when I had
concluded my story.
"Did you give me old Tokay?" I responded laughing--"Then the mystery is
explained! I was already overwrought, and needed no stimulant. But what
tricks the imagination plays us to be sure! You have no idea of the
distinct manner in which those three phantoms asserted themselves! The
impression was extraordinarily vivid."
"No doubt!" And his dark eyes studied me curiously. "Impressions often
_are_ very vivid. See what a marvellously real impression this world
makes upon us, for example!"
"Ah! But then the world _is_ real!" I answered.
"Is it? You accept it as such, I daresay, and things are as they appear
to each separate individual. No two human beings think alike; hence
there may be conflicting opinions as to the reality or non-reality of
this present world. But we will not take unnecessary plunges into the
infinite question of what _is_, as contrasted with what appears to be. I
have some letters here for your consideration. You have lately spoken of
buying a country estate--what say you to Willowsmere Court in
Warwickshire? I have had my eye on that place for you,--it seems to me
just the very thing. It is a magnificent old pile; part of it dates from
Elizabeth's time. It is in excellent repair; the grounds are most
picturesque, the classic river Avon winds with rather a broad sweep
through the park,--and the whole thing, with a great part of the
furniture included, is to be sold for a mere song;--fifty thousand
pounds cash. I think you had better go in for it; it would just suit
your literary and poetic tastes."
Was it my fancy, or had his musical voice the faintest touch of a sneer
as he uttered the last words? I would not allow myself to think this
possible, and answered quickly,--
"Anything _you_ recommend must be worth looking at, and I'll certainly
go and see it. The description sounds well, and Shakespeare's country
always appeals to me. But wouldn't you like to secure it for yourself?"
He laughed.
"Not I! I live nowhere for long. I am of a roving disposition, and am
never happy tied down to one corner of the earth. But I suggest
Willowsmere to you for two reasons,--first that it is charming and
perfectly appointed; secondly, that it will impress Lord Elton
considerably if he knows you are going to buy it."
"How so?"
"Why, because it used to be his property"--returned Lucio quietly--"till
he got into the hands of the Jews. He gave them Willowsmere as security
for loans, and latterly they have stepped in as owners. They've sold
most of the pictures, china, bric-a-brac and other valuables. By the
way, have you noticed how the legended God still appears to protect the
house of Israel? Particularly the 'base usurer' who is allowed to get
the unhappy Christian into his clutches nine times out of ten? And no
remedy drops from heaven! The Jew always triumphs. Rather inconsistent
isn't it, on the part of an equitable Deity!" His eyes flashed strange
scorn. Anon he resumed--"As a result of Lord Elton's unfortunate
speculations, and the Jews' admirable shrewdness, Willowsmere, as I tell
you is in the market, and fifty thousand pounds will make you the envied
owner of a place worth a hundred thousand."
"We dine at the Eltons' to-night, do we not?" I asked musingly.
"We do. You cannot have forgotten that engagement and Lady Sibyl so soon
surely!" he answered laughing.
"No, I have not forgotten"--I said at last, after a little silence. "And
I will buy this Willowsmere. I will telegraph instructions to my lawyers
at once. Will you give me the name and address of the agents?"
"With pleasure, my dear boy!" And Lucio handed me a letter containing
the particulars concerning the sale of the estate and other items. "But
are you not making up your mind rather suddenly? Hadn't you better
inspect the property first? There may be things you object to----"
"If it were a rat-infested barrack," I said resolutely--"I would still
buy it! I shall settle the matter at once. I wish to let Lord Elton know
this very night that I am the future owner of Willowsmere!"
"Good!"--and my companion thrust his arm through mine as we left the
smoking-room together--"I like your swiftness of action Geoffrey. It is
admirable! I always respect determination. Even if a man makes up his
mind to go to hell, I honour him for keeping to his word, and going
there straight as a die!"
I laughed, and we parted in high good-humour,--he to fulfil a club
engagement, I to telegraph precise instructions to my legal friends
Messrs Bentham and Ellis, for the immediate purchase in my name at all
costs, risks or inconveniences, of the estate known as Willowsmere Court
in the county of Warwick.
That evening I dressed with more than common care, giving my man Morris
almost as much trouble as if I had been a fidgetty woman. He waited upon
me however with exemplary patience, and only when I was quite ready did
he venture to utter what had evidently been on his mind for some time.
"Excuse me sir,"--he then observed--"but I daresay you've noticed that
there's something unpleasant-like about the prince's valet, Amiel?"
"Well, he's rather a down-looking fellow if that's what you mean,"--I
replied--"But I suppose there's no harm in him."
"I don't know about that sir,"--answered Morris severely; "He does a
great many strange things I do assure you. Downstairs with the servants
he goes on something surprising. Sings and acts and dances too, as if he
were a whole music-hall."
"Really!" I exclaimed in surprise--"I should never have thought it."
"Nor should I sir, but it's a fact."
"He must be rather an amusing fellow then,"--I continued, wondering that
my man should take the accomplishments of Amiel in such an injured
manner.
"Oh, I don't say anything against his amusingness,"--and Morris rubbed
his nose with a doubtful air--"It's all very well for him to cut capers
and make himself agreeable if he likes,--but it's the deceit of him that
surprises me sir. You'd think to look at him that he was a decent sort
of dull chap with no ideas beyond his duty, but really sir, it's quite
the contrary, if you'll believe me. The language he uses when he's up to
his games downstairs is something frightful! And he actually swears he
learnt it from the gentlemen of the turf, sir! Last night he was play
acting, and taking off all the fashionable folks,--then he took to
hypnotising--and upon my word it made my blood run cold."
"Why, what did he do?" I asked with some curiosity.
"Well, sir, he took one of the scullery-maids and sat her in a chair and
just pointed at her. Pointed at her and grinned, for all the world like
a devil out of a pantomime. And though she is generally a respectable
sober young woman, if she didn't get up with a screech and commence
dancing round and round like a lunatic, while he kept on pointing. And
presently she got to jumping and lifting her skirts that high that it
was positively scandalous! Some of us tried to stop her and couldn't;
she was like mad, till all at once number twenty-two bell rang--that's
the prince's room,--and he just caught hold of her, set her down in her
chair again and clapped his hands. She came to directly, and didn't know
a bit what she'd been doing. Then twenty-two bell rang again, and the
fellow rolled up his eyes like a clergyman and said, 'Let us pray!' and
off he went."