THE COMEDY OF THE JEWELED LINKS.
I do not know if there be any drug in the Pharmacopoeia, or any clearlydefined medical treatment, which may ever hope to grapple effectivelywith the strange disease of jewel-hunger, but if there be not, I havemuch pleasure in recommending this most singular ill to the notice of arising generation of physicians. That it is a branch of that mystery ofmysteries, _la nevrose_, I have no manner of doubt, for I have seen itin all its forms--a malignant growth which makes night of the lives itplays upon; and flourishes to exceeding profit down in the very heart oftragedies. For the matter of that, the flunkies, who study in thekitchen--as the great master has told us--the characters of theirgoverning acquaintances in the boudoir above over a quart pot and the_Police News_, get no little insight into the development of the socialdisaster which treads often upon the heels of jewel-hunger, as they readthose extravagantly ornate reports of robbery and of mystery in which ahighly moral people revels. These are but gleaners in the field--to themthe inner life must remain hidden. No physician hoping to cope with theaffection should turn either to gossips or to slanderers for hisdiagnosis. Let him get down into the caves of the trade, give his ear tothe truer narrative which the jewel dealer alone can write for him, andhe may hope for material and for success. And if he be wise, he willstudy both the comedy and the tragedy which such an investigation willbring before him, and will by this means alone set himself up as aspecialist.
It is to such a one that I would recommend perusal of the following casewhich I record here as one of the comedies of my note-book--a story ofmeanness, cupidity, and stupid cunning; I doubt if there be anyphilosophy of medicine which could make pretense of solving it. Therewere but two principal actors mentioned in the argument, and, indeed, itmight fairly be called a one-part play. The chief person concerned, LordHarningham, I had known for many years. He was a man of whom abiographer wrote "that his long and unblemished career was a credit tohis country," and to whom a book on the Decalogue was inscribed as toone _sans peur et sans reproche_. Yet they told you in the smoking-roomsthat he had starved his first wife, and left his only son as the partnerof a horse-coper in Melbourne, on the princely allowance of one hundredand fifty pounds per annum. His wealth, said common report, was anythingfrom fifty thousand to a hundred thousand pounds per annum; and in hissecond childhood, for he was a septuagenarian when this comedy wasplayed, he was suckled on the nourishing food of expiring leases andforfeited improvements until he seemed to exude sovereigns from everypore in his enormous body.
A meaner man never lived. All similes in converse were based upon hisexploits. "As mean as old Harningham" was a phrase you heard every dayat the "Bachelors." In the countless old stories they put upon him,telling how, at a tenants' lunch in Bedfordshire, he had cried, "Here'sanother quart of cider, and hang the expense!" how he had been seen inFarringdon Market buying his own fish; how he haggled with cabmeninnumerable; how he had been stricken with a malignant fever on the dayhe gave away a sovereign for a shilling--there was but the echo of thegeneral sentiment. The society prints were hilarious at the mere mentionof his name. I recollect well his anger when a wag said in one of them,"It is rumored that Lord Harningham is shortly about to give somethingaway." He was in my office next day--a week rarely passed but what I sawhim--and he laid the journal upon my table, beating it flat with astick, and pointing at it with his ample finger as though his very touchwould wither the writer.
"Please to read that," he said with forced calm but considerableemphasis, "and tell me if the scoundrel doesn't deserve to be hanged. Hedares to mention my name, d'ye see! To mention _me_, and speak about myconcerns. Ha! but I wish I had him under this stick!"
"Of course you don't know who wrote it," said I.
"How should I know?" he gabbled testily. "Do I go round to the tavernsswilling gin-and-water with such gutter birds? Do I hobnob with all thehalf-starved limners in Fleet Street? Pshaw, you talk like a fool!"
I suffered his temper, for he was worth a couple of thousand a year tome. Presently he became calmer, and the humor of the thing dawned uponhis dull mind.
"Ha!" he said, snuffing ferociously from the great diamond-studded boxhe always carried, "I shouldn't wonder if that's Master BertieWatts--you know my nephew, eh? he owes you something, eh?--well, that'slike him, and his scoundrelly impudence--the vagabond!"
"Did not I read somewhere that he was going to be married?" I remarkedat hazard; but the notion tickled him immensely, and he rolled about inhis chair, shaking the snuff from his box over his fur coat, and evenupon my papers.
"Yes, you read it," he gasped at last, "a fine tale too. Why, what's hegot?--four hundred a year in Whitehall, and what he can draw out ofme--not much, Mr. Sutton--not much."
I had no doubt of that, but I kept my face while he went on to mutterand to chortle; and I showed him a bracelet of rubies, which he desiredinstantly to purchase. I had put a price of four hundred and twentypounds upon it, meaning to accept three hundred, so that we haggled fortwo hours by the clock and had then done business. He took the rubiesaway with him, while I caused the further sum to be set against him inthe ledger, where already there were so many unpaid items under thename. He owed me eight thousand pounds at the least, but I could notpress the account, or should have lost him; and while I was often soretroubled for lack of the money, I knew that I should get it at hisdeath, and so aided his jewel-hunger. This was prodigious. All the gemsthat I sold--watches, necklaces, tiaras, brooches, and breastpins, wereconveyed at once to the great safe in his bedroom and there immured. Noone ever saw them but himself. His wives, both of whom were dead, hadscarce enjoyed the possession of a barmaid's jewelry. The passion of thecollector, of the hungerer after stones, alone consumed him. Of all hismeanness, this was the most contemptible--this hiding of fair treasurefrom the light it lived upon--this gross hoarding of beautiful thingsfor one man's selfish enjoyment.
When he left Bond Street that day, crying at my door, "So I'm going togive something away, am I?--but I ain't, Sutton, I ain't"--and walkingoff as though he had found satisfaction in the negative thus conveyed tome, I picked up the paper, and read again that young Bertie Watts was atlast engaged to the Hon. Eva Benley, and that the wedding was to becelebrated in a month's time. Every one in town said that old Harninghamwould do something for Watts when the time for the marriage actuallycame; and it was gossip in the clubs that her people had given theirconsent--for they were historically poor--only upon the sincereassurance from their daughter's _fiance_ that his uncle really was veryfond of him, and would present him with a handsome check on the weddingday. But here was the announcement of the wedding, and the oldcurmudgeon had just said--being readier in speech with me, perhaps, thanwith any one of his few acquaintances--that he did not mean to give theyoung people a halfpenny. It did occur to me that possibly he might havebought the ruby bracelet for the exceedingly pretty girl to whom hisnephew was engaged; but in this I was mistaken, as you shall presentlysee; and the interest of the whole problem deepened when I learnt lateron in the smoking-room of my club that the marriage was likely to bepostponed, and something of a scandal to ensue. Bertie Watts, they said,was going about like a ravenous beast, seeking what financier he coulddevour. His opinion of his uncle was expressed in phrases of which thechief ornament was appalling curses and maledictions. He declared hewould have the whip-hand of him yet, would make him pay handsomely forall the trouble he had put people to--in short, behaved like a man whowas absurdly in love, regardless of that financial prudence which is sodear to the sight of parents and of guardians. Even he, however, couldnot foresee the strange thing about to happen to him, or the verycurious opportunity which was shortly to be his.
A week passed. There was no definite announcement of any postponement ofthe arrangements noted by _The Hyde Park Gazette_, nor did such part ofsociety as is represented by the tonguesters, hear that Bertie hadpersuaded his uncle. The thing was a kind of deadlock in its financialaspect, until at last the world of Belgravia knew that the y
oung lady'sfather, Lord Varnley, had consented to let the wedding be, and to trustto Harningham's better sense when the time of the accomplishment came. Isaw Watts one day driving with his _fiancee_ near the Achilles Statue,and thought that he looked glum enough; but he came to me on thefollowing morning for a diamond aigrette, and although he couldn't payfor it I let him have it.
"It'll be all right in a month, Sutton," said he; "you know the oldchap's hard enough, but he can't let me marry on nothing a year, can henow?"
I said that the thing was possible; and for his own sake ventured tohint that it was even probable, an opinion which he took in no goodpart, sucking his stick silently for a while, and then laughing with apoor little chuckle that seemed to come from the very top of his head.
"Well," he exclaimed at last, "it's devilish rough on a fellow to have arelation of that sort, isn't it?--a positive disgrace to the family. Iwonder what the old blackguard is going to give me for a weddingpresent. Did he ask you to show him any American tickers, by the way? Ishouldn't wonder if he presented me with a brass clock, and Eva with aguinea set in jet--he's mean enough."
"He bought a ruby bracelet here some days ago," I remarked, as inparenthesis.
"Did he now?" he exclaimed in a tone of pleasure. "I wonder if it's forthe girlie! but, of course, it couldn't be. He'd die to give awayanything that once went into his old safe. Look here, Sutton, couldn'tyou charge him an extra hundred, and go halves? I feel like somethingdesperate."
I told him that that was impossible, and he went away with the aigrettein his pocket, and a very thoughtful expression upon his face. Before hedid so, however, he had uttered the pious wish that his uncle might dieof some tormenting visitation; and that he might be alive to dance onthe day of the funeral. I must say that I sympathized with him, for hewas a good-looking and kindly-hearted young fellow, who for many yearshad been led to believe that his relations would do something for him;and who was about to be grievously disappointed. Nor could I forget thathe was engaged to one of the prettiest girls in town--and for her sakeenjoyed a kind of reflected sympathy which was sincere enough on thepart of every man who knew him.
The date of the wedding was now fixed, being the 21st of January, to bewell ahead of Lent. I saw Watts very frequently during the following tendays, he coming with expectant persistency to ask me if his uncle hadyet bought him anything; and remaining disappointed almost to the veryeve of his marriage. In fact, the wedding was to take place on theWednesday, and it was only on the previous Monday that Lord Harninghamascended my stairs puffing and blowing, and in a shocking temper, tomake his purchase of a present.
"Sutton," he said, "this is the greatest tomfoolery on earth--that youngrascal is going to get married after all, and I suppose I'll have togive him something."
"You can scarce do less," I said with a smile.
"Of course I can do less," he replied garrulously. "I can give himnothing at all, d'ye see; not a brass halfpenny. Look at the ass,maudling about the first pretty face he sees over a dinner table when hemight marry money twenty times for the asking of it. Did I make such afool of myself when I was his age?"
I assured him that he did nothing of the sort.
"Then what's he want to do it for? Thinks he's going to get somethingout of me, perhaps--out of _me_, but he ain't--not sixpence; not if theyhadn't enough to get to the station with. Ha, ha! I'm not such aspendthrift as I look."
He talked in this strain for some while, and then fell to haggling overa gift. He told me that the custom of giving wedding presents was theinsane fashion of an insane age; that he consented to follow it only inview of the fuss that society would make if his card did not lie on LordVarnley's table when the other presents were shown. In this bargaininghe displayed a meanness which was triumphant even for him. I must haveshown him quite a hundred rings, pins, and watches, of all values, fromfifty pounds to five hundred, before he could in any way make up hismind, and he did not cease to rebuke me for that which he called mypreposterously extravagant insinuation. "Fifty sovereigns! a hundredsovereigns!" he kept exclaiming; "Why, man alive, do you think I'm madeof money? Show me something cheap, something that five pounds will buy,d'ye see? any bit of stuff's good enough for a jackanapes like that."
"But not for your card on Lord Varnley's table."
"Why, what do you mean?"
"People who are uncharitable, you know, might say that it was acuriously insufficient present."
"D'ye think they'd say that?"
"I am sure they would."
"Pshaw!--so am I; that comes of being thought a rich man when you're aspoor as a parson. I'm quite a poor man, you know, Sutton."
I listened to him patiently, and in the end persuaded him to buy Wattsan exquisite set of jeweled links. These had a fine diamond in each ofthem, but their greatest ornament was the superb enameling, worthy ofJean Toutin or Petitot, with which all the gold was covered. I asked onehundred and fifty pounds for these remarkable ornaments; and the oldman, struck, like the artist he was, with the perfection of theworkmanship, fixed his greedy eyes upon them, and was persuaded. Heprotested that they were too good, far too good, for such a worthlessingrate as his nephew, and that he ought to keep them in his owncollection; but at last he ordered me to send them, with his card, toLord Varnley's town house, and went away chafing at his own generosity,and, as he avowed, at his stupidity.
I saw no more of him for a week. The wedding had been celebrated, andMaster Bertie Watts had conveyed away quietly to Folkestone as pretty anEnglish girl as ever flourished in the glare of the West. Lord and LadyVarnley shut up their house during the week after the marriage, havingsent the very numerous wedding presents to their bankers; and societywould have forgotten the whole business if it had not paused to discussthe important question--How were the young couple to exist in the futureon the paltry income of four or five hundred pounds a year? One half ofthe world may not know how the other half lives, but that is not forlack of effort on its part to find out. It was a matter of club-roomnews that old Lord Harningham had not relented--and, beyond what hisnephew called "those twopenny-half-penny sleeve links," had not givenhim a penny. How then, said this same charitable world, will these sillychildren keep up their position in town when they return from thesecond-rate hotel they are now staying in at Folkestone?
Curiously enough, I was able myself to answer that question in threedays' time--though at the moment I was as ignorant as any of them. Thematter came about in this way. On the very morning that Lord Varnleywent to Paris, it was known through the daily papers that there had beena robbery at his house in Cork Street, of a green velvet case,containing a crescent of pearls, turquoises, and diamonds. This was apresent from one of the Embassies to his daughter, and must, said thereports, have been abstracted from the house during the press and theconfusion of the reception. Later in the afternoon I received an advicefrom Scotland Yard cautioning me against the purchase of such a gem, andinviting immediate communication if it were offered to me. The theft ofwedding presents is so common that I gave little heed to the matter; andwas already immersed in other business when Lord Harningham wasannounced. He seemed rather fidgety in his manner, I thought, and hummedand hawed considerably before he would explain his mission.
"It's about those links I gave my nephew," he said at last. "They're fartoo good for him, Sutton--and they're too pretty. I never saw betterwork in my life, and must have been a fool when I let them go out of mypossession--d'ye see?"
"Well, but you can't get them back now?" I remarked with a smile.
He took snuff vigorously at my reply, and then said,--
"Man, you're wrong, I've got them in my pocket."
I must have expressed my astonishment in my look, for he went onquickly,--
"Yes, here in the green case as you sold them. Do I surprise you, eh?Well, I'm going to give Master Bertie a bit of a check and to keep thesethings; but one of the stones is off color--I noticed it at thewedding--and I must have a new one in, d'ye see?"
"I t
hought that you had already handed them over," I interrupted, quitedisregarding his last request.
"So I did, so I did; but a man can take his own back again, can't he?Well, when I saw them at the house, I concluded it was ridiculous togive a boy like that such treasures, and so----"
"You spoke to him?"
"Hem--that is, of course, man. Pshaw! You're too inquisitive for ajeweler: you ought to have been a lady's maid."
"Have you brought them with you now?"
"What should I be here for if I hadn't?"
He laid upon my table a green velvet case, of the exact size, color, andshape of that which had contained the links; but when I opened it I gavea start, and put it down quickly. The case held a crescent of pearls,turquoises, and diamonds, which answered exactly to the description ofthe one stolen from Lord Varnley's house on the day of his daughter'swedding.
"There's some mistake here," said I, "you've evidently left the links athome," with which remark I put the jewels under his very nose for him tosee. He looked at them for a moment, the whole of his flabby facewrinkling and reddening; then he seemed almost to choke, and the veinsin his forehead swelled until they were as blue threads upon an ashenand colorless countenance.
"Good God!" he ejaculated, "I've taken the wrong case."
"Your nephew gave it you, no doubt, but he must have forgotten it, forhe's advertised the loss of this crescent at Scotland Yard, and thereare detectives now trying to find it. I am cautioned not to purchaseit," I said with a laugh.
The effect of these words upon him was so curious that for some momentsI thought he had spasm of the heart. Starting up in the chair, with wildeyes, and hands clutching at the arms to rest upon them, he made severalattempts to speak, but not a word came from his lips. I endeavored tohelp him with his difficulty, but it was to little purpose.
"It seems to me, Lord Harningham," I suggested, "that you have only towrite a line of explanation to your nephew--and there's an end of thematter."
"You think so?" he cried eagerly.
"Why not," said I, "since he returned the jewels to you?"
"But he didn't," he interrupted, cringing in the chair at thisconfession of a lie; "he didn't; and he'd prosecute me; he hates me, andthis is his opportunity, d'ye see?"
"Do you mean to say," I exclaimed, beginning to understand thesituation, "that you took the case without his permission?"
"Yes, yes," he mumbled, "they were so beautiful, such work! You knowwhat work they were. I saw them at the wedding, and was sure that Ishould not have parted with them. I meant to send him a check againstthem--and when no one was looking I put what I thought was the case intomy pocket, but it was the wrong one. God help me, Sutton what shall Ido?"
Now it seemed to me that this was one of the most delightful comedies Ihad ever assisted at. Technically, Lord Harningham was a thief, andundoubtedly Bertie Watts could have prosecuted him had he chosen, thoughthe probability of his getting a conviction was small. But it was veryevident to me that here was the boy's opportunity, and that in theinterest of his pretty wife I should make the best of it. With thisintent, I played my first card with necessary boldness.
"Undoubtedly the case is very serious for you," said I, apparently withsympathy, "and it is made the more serious from the strange relationsexisting between your nephew and yourself. You know the law, I doubtnot, as well as I do; and that once a prosecution has been initiated atScotland Yard it is impossible to withdraw without a trial. Mr. Wattsmight get into serious trouble for compounding a felony; and I mightsuffer with him as one in the conspiracy. But I tell you what I will do;I'll write to him to-night and sound him. Meanwhile, let me advise youto keep out of the way, for I can't disguise the fact that you might bearrested."
He gave a great scream at this, and the perspiration rolled from him,falling in great drops upon the carpet. "Oh, Lord!" he kept muttering,"oh, that I should have been such a consummate fool!--oh, Heaven helpme! To think of it--and what it will cost, I could cry, Sutton--cry likea child."
I calmed him with difficulty, and led him down the back stairs to a cabwith a positive assurance that I would not communicate with ScotlandYard. Then I wrote to Folkestone a letter, the precise contents of whichare immaterial, but the response to which was in the form of a telegramworded as follows:--
"Am inexpressibly shocked and pained, but the law must take its course."
I put this into my pocket without any delay and went over toHarningham's house in Park Lane. He had been up all night, they told me,and the doctor had just left him; but I found him suffering only from anenervating fear, and white as the cloth on the breakfast table beforehim.
"Well," he said, "what is it, what does he say? Will he prosecute me?"
I handed him the telegram for answer, and I thought he would haveswooned. He did not know that I had in my pocket another letter from hisnephew, in which Master Bertie informed me that I was the "best chap inthe world," and I saw no reason to mention this. Indeed, I listened withinfinite gravity when the old man told me that he was irretrievablyruined, and that his name would stand in all the clubs as that of acommon thief. Jewel-hunger plainly accounted for everything he had done;but it was not to my end to console him, and I said in a severe andsufficiently melancholy voice,--
"Lord Harningham, there is only one thing to do, and for your sake Iwill make myself a criminal participator in the conspiracy. You must goto Folkestone with me this afternoon, and take your check book withyou."
The groan he gave at this would have moved a man of iron. I saw tearsstanding in his eyes, and his hand shook when I left him so that hecould scarce put it into mine. Yet he came to the station to meet me inthe afternoon, and by six o'clock we were in Folkestone at a shabbysecond-rate hotel, called "The Cock and Lobster," inquiring for thebride and bridegroom. Mr. and Mrs. Watts, they said, were out on theparade; but we went to look for them, and surprised them coming from theLees, as handsome a couple as you could look upon. She, a pretty,brown-haired English girl, her tresses tossed over her large eyes by thesharp wind that swept in from the sea, was close under the arm of herhusband, who, at that stage, fearing to lose her touch, seemed engagedin the impossible attempt to cover her entirely with one of his arms.And in this pursuit privacy came to his aid, for the breeze was freshfrom the Channel at the beginning of night, banishing all loiterers butthose loitering in love; and the lamps flickered and went low in thegusts as though fearing to illumine the roses upon the cheeks of abride.
When Master Bertie saw us he became as sedate as a Methodist minister,and, commanding a solemn tone acted the part to perfection.
"Uncle," he said, "I would never have believed it of you. But this istoo serious a matter to mention here; let us go to the hotel."
We returned in silence, but directly we were in the hall the young mancalled for his bill, and speaking almost in a boisterous tone, cried:--
"We're going to change our quarters, uncle, and will begin by moving tothe best hotel in the place. That poor girl is moped to death here, andnow you're going to pay for our honeymoon--cost doesn't matter, does it,old man?"
The old man concerned started at this, his mouth wide open with thesurprise of it.
"What's that?" he muttered. "What're you going to do?" But I whisperedto him to be silent, and in an hour we were sitting down to a superbdinner--which he did not touch, by the bye--in the great saloon of thebiggest hotel in the place. During the meal the bride, who scarce seemedable to do anything else than look at her husband, made few remarks,but Watts and I talked freely, quite ignoring the old man; and it wasnot until we were in the private room that the negotiations began.
There is no need to describe them. They lasted until midnight, at whichhour the nephew of Lord Harningham had five hundred pounds in hispocket, and an allowance of five hundred a year. From the moment ofassenting to these conditions until we entered the train next morningthe old man never opened his lips, but he kissed the bride at the doorof the hotel, and color came again to his cheeks at the war
mth of herlips. When at last we were alone in the carriage he gave a great sigh ofrelief and said,----
"Sutton, thank God that's over!"
"Nearly over, my lord," I replied with emphasis.
"What do you mean?" he cried. "Do you think that any one will get tohear of it? Why, man, what have I half-ruined myself for?"
"To keep your nephew quiet," I suggested pleasantly.
"And who else knows anything when he's settled with?" he asked angrily.
"Why," said I quite calmly, "you and I, perhaps."
He looked at me as though his glance was all-consuming and would witherme, but I met him with a placid smile and continued,--
"It seems to me that I want what Mr. Stevenson calls 'a good memory forforgetting.' Do you know, Lord Harningham, that if you paid mybill--gave me, say, eight thousand pounds on account, I believe my mindwould be quite oblivious to the events of last night."
The shot struck home--in the very center of my target. He thought overit for some while, and spoke but once between Sevenoaks and CharingCross. His remark was more forcible than convincing, for he exclaimedsuddenly, and _a propos_ of nothing in particular, "Sutton to blazeswith all jewels!" Then he subsided, and came with me quietly to myrooms, where he wrote a check for eight thousand pounds and signed itwith considerable firmness. The ink was hardly dry, however, before hedropped heavily upon the carpet, and lay prone in a fit.
The shock of parting with so much money had been too much for him. He isnow in Madeira seeking a climate.
TREASURE OF WHITE CREEK.