THE ADVENTURE OF THE HANSOM CABS
LIEUTENANT BRACKENBURY RICH had greatly distinguished himself in one ofthe lesser Indian hill wars. He it was who took the chieftain prisonerwith his own hand; his gallantry was universally applauded; and when hecame home, prostrated by an ugly sabre cut and a protracted jungle fever,society was prepared to welcome the Lieutenant as a celebrity of minorlustre. But his was a character remarkable for unaffected modesty;adventure was dear to his heart, but he cared little for adulation; andhe waited at foreign watering-places and in Algiers until the fame of hisexploits had run through its nine days’ vitality and begun to beforgotten. He arrived in London at last, in the early season, with aslittle observation as he could desire; and as he was an orphan and hadnone but distant relatives who lived in the provinces, it was almost as aforeigner that he installed himself in the capital of the country forwhich he had shed his blood.
On the day following his arrival he dined alone at a military club. Heshook hands with a few old comrades, and received their warmcongratulations; but as one and all had some engagement for the evening,he found himself left entirely to his own resources. He was in dress,for he had entertained the notion of visiting a theatre. But the greatcity was new to him; he had gone from a provincial school to a militarycollege, and thence direct to the Eastern Empire; and he promised himselfa variety of delights in this world for exploration. Swinging his cane,he took his way westward. It was a mild evening, already dark, and nowand then threatening rain. The succession of faces in the lamplightstirred the Lieutenant’s imagination; and it seemed to him as if he couldwalk for ever in that stimulating city atmosphere and surrounded by themystery of four million private lives. He glanced at the houses, andmarvelled what was passing behind those warmly-lighted windows; he lookedinto face after face, and saw them each intent upon some unknowninterest, criminal or kindly.
“They talk of war,” he thought, “but this is the great battlefield ofmankind.”
And then he began to wonder that he should walk so long in thiscomplicated scene, and not chance upon so much as the shadow of anadventure for himself.
“All in good time,” he reflected. “I am still a stranger, and perhapswear a strange air. But I must be drawn into the eddy before long.”
The night was already well advanced when a plump of cold rain fellsuddenly out of the darkness. Brackenbury paused under some trees, andas he did so he caught sight of a hansom cabman making him a sign that hewas disengaged. The circumstance fell in so happily to the occasion thathe at once raised his cane in answer, and had soon ensconced himself inthe London gondola.
“Where to, sir?” asked the driver.
“Where you please,” said Brackenbury.
And immediately, at a pace of surprising swiftness, the hansom drove offthrough the rain into a maze of villas. One villa was so like another,each with its front garden, and there was so little to distinguish thedeserted lamp-lit streets and crescents through which the flying hansomtook its way, that Brackenbury soon lost all idea of direction.
He would have been tempted to believe that the cabman was amusing himselfby driving him round and round and in and out about a small quarter, butthere was something business-like in the speed which convinced him of thecontrary. The man had an object in view, he was hastening towards adefinite end; and Brackenbury was at once astonished at the fellow’sskill in picking a way through such a labyrinth, and a little concernedto imagine what was the occasion of his hurry. He had heard tales ofstrangers falling ill in London. Did the driver belong to some bloodyand treacherous association? and was he himself being whirled to amurderous death?
The thought had scarcely presented itself, when the cab swung sharplyround a corner and pulled up before the garden gate of a villa in a longand wide road. The house was brilliantly lighted up. Another hansom hadjust driven away, and Brackenbury could see a gentleman being admitted atthe front door and received by several liveried servants. He wassurprised that the cabman should have stopped so immediately in front ofa house where a reception was being held; but he did not doubt it was theresult of accident, and sat placidly smoking where he was, until he heardthe trap thrown open over his head.
“Here we are, sir,” said the driver.
“Here!” repeated Brackenbury. “Where?”
“You told me to take you where I pleased, sir,” returned the man with achuckle, “and here we are.”
It struck Brackenbury that the voice was wonderfully smooth and courteousfor a man in so inferior a position; he remembered the speed at which hehad been driven; and now it occurred to him that the hansom was moreluxuriously appointed than the common run of public conveyances.
“I must ask you to explain,” said he. “Do you mean to turn me out intothe rain? My good man, I suspect the choice is mine.”
“The choice is certainly yours,” replied the driver; “but when I tell youall, I believe I know how a gentleman of your figure will decide. Thereis a gentlemen’s party in this house. I do not know whether the masterbe a stranger to London and without acquaintances of his own; or whetherhe is a man of odd notions. But certainly I was hired to kidnap singlegentlemen in evening dress, as many as I pleased, but military officersby preference. You have simply to go in and say that Mr. Morris invitedyou.”
“Are you Mr. Morris?” inquired the Lieutenant.
“Oh, no,” replied the cabman. “Mr. Morris is the person of the house.”
“It is not a common way of collecting guests,” said Brackenbury: “but aneccentric man might very well indulge the whim without any intention tooffend. And suppose that I refuse Mr. Morris’s invitation,” he went on,“what then?”
“My orders are to drive you back where I took you from,” replied the man,“and set out to look for others up to midnight. Those who have no fancyfor such an adventure, Mr. Morris said, were not the guests for him.”
These words decided the Lieutenant on the spot.
“After all,” he reflected, as he descended from the hansom, “I have nothad long to wait for my adventure.”
He had hardly found footing on the side-walk, and was still feeling inhis pocket for the fare, when the cab swung about and drove off by theway it came at the former break-neck velocity. Brackenbury shouted afterthe man, who paid no heed, and continued to drive away; but the sound ofhis voice was overheard in the house, the door was again thrown open,emitting a flood of light upon the garden, and a servant ran down to meethim holding an umbrella.
“The cabman has been paid,” observed the servant in a very civil tone;and he proceeded to escort Brackenbury along the path and up the steps.In the hall several other attendants relieved him of his hat, cane, andpaletot, gave him a ticket with a number in return, and politely hurriedhim up a stair adorned with tropical flowers, to the door of an apartmenton the first storey. Here a grave butler inquired his name, andannouncing “Lieutenant Brackenbury Rich,” ushered him into thedrawing-room of the house.
A young man, slender and singularly handsome, came forward and greetedhim with an air at once courtly and affectionate. Hundreds of candles,of the finest wax, lit up a room that was perfumed, like the staircase,with a profusion of rare and beautiful flowering shrubs. A side-tablewas loaded with tempting viands. Several servants went to and fro withfruits and goblets of champagne. The company was perhaps sixteen innumber, all men, few beyond the prime of life, and with hardly anexception, of a dashing and capable exterior. They were divided into twogroups, one about a roulette board, and the other surrounding a table atwhich one of their number held a bank of baccarat.
“I see,” thought Brackenbury, “I am in a private gambling saloon, and thecabman was a tout.”
His eye had embraced the details, and his mind formed the conclusion,while his host was still holding him by the hand; and to him his looksreturned from this rapid survey. At a second view Mr. Morris surprisedhim still more than on the first. The easy elegance of his manners, thedistinction, amiability, a
nd courage that appeared upon his features,fitted very ill with the Lieutenant’s preconceptions on the subject ofthe proprietor of a hell; and the tone of his conversation seemed to markhim out for a man of position and merit. Brackenbury found he had aninstinctive liking for his entertainer; and though he chid himself forthe weakness, he was unable to resist a sort of friendly attraction forMr. Morris’s person and character.
“I have heard of you, Lieutenant Rich,” said Mr. Morris, lowering histone; “and believe me I am gratified to make your acquaintance. Yourlooks accord with the reputation that has preceded you from India. Andif you will forget for a while the irregularity of your presentation inmy house, I shall feel it not only an honour, but a genuine pleasurebesides. A man who makes a mouthful of barbarian cavaliers,” he addedwith a laugh, “should not be appalled by a breach of etiquette, howeverserious.”
And he led him towards the sideboard and pressed him to partake of somerefreshment.
“Upon my word,” the Lieutenant reflected, “this is one of the pleasantestfellows and, I do not doubt, one of the most agreeable societies inLondon.”
He partook of some champagne, which he found excellent; and observingthat many of the company were already smoking, he lit one of his ownManillas, and strolled up to the roulette board, where he sometimes madea stake and sometimes looked on smilingly on the fortune of others. Itwas while he was thus idling that he became aware of a sharp scrutiny towhich the whole of the guests were subjected. Mr. Morris went here andthere, ostensibly busied on hospitable concerns; but he had ever a shrewdglance at disposal; not a man of the party escaped his sudden, searchinglooks; he took stock of the bearing of heavy losers, he valued the amountof the stakes, he paused behind couples who were deep in conversation;and, in a word, there was hardly a characteristic of any one present buthe seemed to catch and make a note of it. Brackenbury began to wonder ifthis were indeed a gambling hell: it had so much the air of a privateinquisition. He followed Mr. Morris in all his movements; and althoughthe man had a ready smile, he seemed to perceive, as it were under amask, a haggard, careworn, and preoccupied spirit. The fellows aroundhim laughed and made their game; but Brackenbury had lost interest in theguests.
“This Morris,” thought he, “is no idler in the room. Some deep purposeinspires him; let it be mine to fathom it.”
Now and then Mr. Morris would call one of his visitors aside; and after abrief colloquy in an ante-room, he would return alone, and the visitorsin question reappeared no more. After a certain number of repetitions,this performance excited Brackenbury’s curiosity to a high degree. Hedetermined to be at the bottom of this minor mystery at once; andstrolling into the ante-room, found a deep window recess concealed bycurtains of the fashionable green. Here he hurriedly ensconced himself;nor had he to wait long before the sound of steps and voices drew nearhim from the principal apartment. Peering through the division, he sawMr. Morris escorting a fat and ruddy personage, with somewhat the look ofa commercial traveller, whom Brackenbury had already remarked for hiscoarse laugh and under-bred behaviour at the table. The pair haltedimmediately before the window, so that Brackenbury lost not a word of thefollowing discourse:—
“I beg you a thousand pardons!” began Mr. Morris, with the mostconciliatory manner; “and, if I appear rude, I am sure you will readilyforgive me. In a place so great as London accidents must continuallyhappen; and the best that we can hope is to remedy them with as smalldelay as possible. I will not deny that I fear you have made a mistakeand honoured my poor house by inadvertence; for, to speak openly, Icannot at all remember your appearance. Let me put the question withoutunnecessary circumlocution—between gentlemen of honour a word willsuffice—Under whose roof do you suppose yourself to be?”
“That of Mr. Morris,” replied the other, with a prodigious display ofconfusion, which had been visibly growing upon him throughout the lastfew words.
“Mr. John or Mr. James Morris?” inquired the host.
“I really cannot tell you,” returned the unfortunate guest. “I am notpersonally acquainted with the gentleman, any more than I am withyourself.”
“I see,” said Mr. Morris. “There is another person of the same namefarther down the street; and I have no doubt the policeman will be ableto supply you with his number. Believe me, I felicitate myself on themisunderstanding which has procured me the pleasure of your company forso long; and let me express a hope that we may meet again upon a moreregular footing. Meantime, I would not for the world detain you longerfrom your friends. John,” he added, raising his voice, “will you seethat this gentleman finds his great-coat?”
And with the most agreeable air Mr. Morris escorted his visitor as far asthe ante-room door, where he left him under conduct of the butler. As hepassed the window, on his return to the drawing-room, Brackenbury couldhear him utter a profound sigh, as though his mind was loaded with agreat anxiety, and his nerves already fatigued with the task on which hewas engaged.
For perhaps an hour the hansoms kept arriving with such frequency, thatMr. Morris had to receive a new guest for every old one that he sentaway, and the company preserved its number undiminished. But towards theend of that time the arrivals grew few and far between, and at lengthceased entirely, while the process of elimination was continued withunimpaired activity. The drawing-room began to look empty: the baccaratwas discontinued for lack of a banker; more than one person saidgood-night of his own accord, and was suffered to depart withoutexpostulation; and in the meanwhile Mr. Morris redoubled in agreeableattentions to those who stayed behind. He went from group to group andfrom person to person with looks of the readiest sympathy and the mostpertinent and pleasing talk; he was not so much like a host as like ahostess, and there was a feminine coquetry and condescension in hismanner which charmed the hearts of all.
As the guests grew thinner, Lieutenant Rich strolled for a moment out ofthe drawing-room into the hall in quest of fresher air. But he had nosooner passed the threshold of the ante-chamber than he was brought to adead halt by a discovery of the most surprising nature. The floweringshrubs had disappeared from the staircase; three large furniture waggonsstood before the garden gate; the servants were busy dismantling thehouse upon all sides; and some of them had already donned theirgreat-coats and were preparing to depart. It was like the end of acountry ball, where everything has been supplied by contract.Brackenbury had indeed some matter for reflection. First, the guests,who were no real guests after all, had been dismissed; and now theservants, who could hardly be genuine servants, were actively dispersing.
‘“Was the whole establishment a sham?” he asked himself. “The mushroomof a single night which should disappear before morning?”
Watching a favourable opportunity, Brackenbury dashed upstairs to thehighest regions of the house. It was as he had expected. He ran fromroom to room, and saw not a stick of furniture nor so much as a pictureon the walls. Although the house had been painted and papered, it wasnot only uninhabited at present, but plainly had never been inhabited atall. The young officer remembered with astonishment its specious,settled, and hospitable air on his arrival. It was only at a prodigiouscost that the imposture could have been carried out upon so great ascale.
Who, then, was Mr. Morris? What was his intention in thus playing thehouseholder for a single night in the remote west of London? And why didhe collect his visitors at hazard from the streets?
Brackenbury remembered that he had already delayed too long, and hastenedto join the company. Many had left during his absence; and counting theLieutenant and his host, there were not more than five persons in thedrawing-room—recently so thronged. Mr. Morris greeted him, as here-entered the apartment, with a smile, and immediately rose to his feet.
“It is now time, gentlemen,” said he, “to explain my purpose in decoyingyou from your amusements. I trust you did not find the evening hang verydully on your hands; but my object, I will confess it, was not toentertain your leisure, but to help myself in an u
nfortunate necessity.You are all gentlemen,” he continued, “your appearance does you that muchjustice, and I ask for no better security. Hence, I speak it withoutconcealment, I ask you to render me a dangerous and delicate service;dangerous because you may run the hazard of your lives, and delicatebecause I must ask an absolute discretion upon all that you shall see orhear. From an utter stranger the request is almost comicallyextravagant; I am well aware of this; and I would add at once, if therebe any one present who has heard enough, if there be one among the partywho recoils from a dangerous confidence and a piece of Quixotic devotionto he knows not whom—here is my hand ready, and I shall wish himgood-night and God-speed with all the sincerity in the world.”
A very tall, black man, with a heavy stoop, immediately responded to thisappeal.
“I commend your frankness, Sir,” said he; “and, for my part, I go. Imake no reflections; but I cannot deny that you fill me with suspiciousthoughts. I go myself, as I say; and perhaps you will think I have noright to add words to my example.”
“On the contrary,” replied Mr. Morris, “I am obliged to you for all yousay. It would be impossible to exaggerate the gravity of my proposal.”
“Well, gentlemen, what do you say?” said the tall man, addressing theothers. “We have had our evening’s frolic; shall we all go homewardpeaceably in a body? You will think well of my suggestion in themorning, when you see the sun again in innocence and safety.”
The speaker pronounced the last words with an intonation which added totheir force; and his face wore a singular expression, full of gravity andsignificance. Another of the company rose hastily, and, with someappearance of alarm, prepared to take his leave. There were only two whoheld their ground, Brackenbury and an old red-nosed cavalry Major; butthese two preserved a nonchalant demeanour, and, beyond a look ofintelligence which they rapidly exchanged, appeared entirely foreign tothe discussion that had just been terminated.
Mr. Morris conducted the deserters as far as the door, which he closedupon their heels; then he turned round, disclosing a countenance ofmingled relief and animation, and addressed the two officers as follows.
“I have chosen my men like Joshua in the Bible,” said Mr. Morris, “and Inow believe I have the pick of London. Your appearance pleased my hansomcabmen; then it delighted me; I have watched your behaviour in a strangecompany, and under the most unusual circumstances: I have studied how youplayed and how you bore your losses; lastly, I have put you to the testof a staggering announcement, and you received it like an invitation todinner. It is not for nothing,” he cried, “that I have been for yearsthe companion and the pupil of the bravest and wisest potentate inEurope.”
“At the affair of Bunderchang,” observed the Major, “I asked for twelvevolunteers, and every trooper in the ranks replied to my appeal. But agaming party is not the same thing as a regiment under fire. You may bepleased, I suppose, to have found two, and two who will not fail you at apush. As for the pair who ran away, I count them among the most pitifulhounds I ever met with. Lieutenant Rich,” he added, addressingBrackenbury, “I have heard much of you of late; and I cannot doubt butyou have also heard of me. I am Major O’Rooke.”
And the veteran tendered his hand, which was red and tremulous, to theyoung Lieutenant.
“Who has not?” answered Brackenbury.
“When this little matter is settled,” said Mr. Morris, “you will think Ihave sufficiently rewarded you; for I could offer neither a more valuableservice than to make him acquainted with the other.”
“And now,” said Major O’Rooke, “is it a duel?”
“A duel after a fashion,” replied Mr. Morris, “a duel with unknown anddangerous enemies, and, as I gravely fear, a duel to the death. I mustask you,” he continued, “to call me Morris no longer; call me, if youplease, Hammersmith; my real name, as well as that of another person towhom I hope to present you before long, you will gratify me by not askingand not seeking to discover for yourselves. Three days ago the person ofwhom I speak disappeared suddenly from home; and, until this morning, Ireceived no hint of his situation. You will fancy my alarm when I tellyou that he is engaged upon a work of private justice. Bound by anunhappy oath, too lightly sworn, he finds it necessary, without the helpof law, to rid the earth of an insidious and bloody villain. Already twoof our friends, and one of them my own born brother, have perished in theenterprise. He himself, or I am much deceived, is taken in the samefatal toils. But at least he still lives and still hopes, as this billetsufficiently proves.”
And the speaker, no other than Colonel Geraldine, proffered a letter,thus conceived:—
“MAJOR HAMMERSMITH,—On Wednesday, at 3 A.M., you will be admitted by the small door to the gardens of Rochester House, Regent’s Park, by a man who is entirely in my interest. I must request you not to fail me by a second. Pray bring my case of swords, and, if you can find them, one or two gentlemen of conduct and discretion to whom my person is unknown. My name must not be used in this affair.
T. GODALL.”
“From his wisdom alone, if he had no other title,” pursued ColonelGeraldine, when the others had each satisfied his curiosity, “my friendis a man whose directions should implicitly be followed. I need not tellyou, therefore, that I have not so much as visited the neighbourhood ofRochester House; and that I am still as wholly in the dark as either ofyourselves as to the nature of my friend’s dilemma. I betook myself, assoon as I had received this order, to a furnishing contractor, and, in afew hours, the house in which we now are had assumed its late air offestival. My scheme was at least original; and I am far from regrettingan action which has procured me the services of Major O’Rooke andLieutenant Brackenbury Rich. But the servants in the street will have astrange awakening. The house which this evening was full of lights andvisitors they will find uninhabited and for sale to-morrow morning. Thuseven the most serious concerns,” added the Colonel, “have a merry side.”
“And let us add a merry ending,” said Brackenbury.
The Colonel consulted his watch.
“It is now hard on two,” he said. “We have an hour before us, and aswift cab is at the door. Tell me if I may count upon your help.”
“During a long life,” replied Major O’Rooke, “I never took back my handfrom anything, nor so much as hedged a bet.”
Brackenbury signified his readiness in the most becoming terms; and afterthey had drunk a glass or two of wine, the Colonel gave each of them aloaded revolver, and the three mounted into the cab and drove off for theaddress in question.
Rochester House was a magnificent residence on the banks of the canal.The large extent of the garden isolated it in an unusual degree from theannoyances of neighbourhood. It seemed the _parc aux cerfs_ of somegreat nobleman or millionaire. As far as could be seen from the street,there was not a glimmer of light in any of the numerous windows of themansion; and the place had a look of neglect, as though the master hadbeen long from home.
The cab was discharged, and the three gentlemen were not long indiscovering the small door, which was a sort of postern in a lane betweentwo garden walls. It still wanted ten or fifteen minutes of theappointed time; the rain fell heavily, and the adventurers shelteredthemselves below some pendant ivy, and spoke in low tones of theapproaching trial.
Suddenly Geraldine raised his finger to command silence, and all threebent their hearing to the utmost. Through the continuous noise of therain, the steps and voices of two men became audible from the other sideof the wall; and, as they drew nearer, Brackenbury, whose sense ofhearing was remarkably acute, could even distinguish some fragments oftheir talk.
“Is the grave dug?” asked one.
“It is,” replied the other; “behind the laurel hedge. When the job isdone, we can cover it with a pile of stakes.”
The first speaker laughed, and the sound of his merriment was shocking tothe listeners on the other side.
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br /> “In an hour from now,” he said.
And by the sound of the steps it was obvious that the pair had separated,and were proceeding in contrary directions.
Almost immediately after the postern door was cautiously opened, a whiteface was protruded into the lane, and a hand was seen beckoning to thewatchers. In dead silence the three passed the door, which wasimmediately locked behind them, and followed their guide through severalgarden alleys to the kitchen entrance of the house. A single candleburned in the great paved kitchen, which was destitute of the customaryfurniture; and as the party proceeded to ascend from thence by a flightof winding stairs, a prodigious noise of rats testified still moreplainly to the dilapidation of the house.
Their conductor preceded them, carrying the candle. He was a lean man,much bent, but still agile; and he turned from time to time andadmonished silence and caution by his gestures. Colonel Geraldinefollowed on his heels, the case of swords under one arm, and a pistolready in the other. Brackenbury’s heart beat thickly. He perceived thatthey were still in time; but he judged from the alacrity of the old manthat the hour of action must be near at hand; and the circumstances ofthis adventure were so obscure and menacing, the place seemed so wellchosen for the darkest acts, that an older man than Brackenbury mighthave been pardoned a measure of emotion as he closed the procession upthe winding stair.
At the top the guide threw open a door and ushered the three officersbefore him into a small apartment, lighted by a smoky lamp and the glowof a modest fire. At the chimney corner sat a man in the early prime oflife, and of a stout but courtly and commanding appearance. His attitudeand expression were those of the most unmoved composure; he was smoking acheroot with much enjoyment and deliberation, and on a table by his elbowstood a long glass of some effervescing beverage which diffused anagreeable odour through the room.
“Welcome,” said he, extending his hand to Colonel Geraldine. “I knew Imight count on your exactitude.”
“On my devotion,” replied the Colonel, with a bow.
“Present me to your friends,” continued the first; and, when thatceremony had been performed, “I wish, gentlemen,” he added, with the mostexquisite affability, “that I could offer you a more cheerful programme;it is ungracious to inaugurate an acquaintance upon serious affairs; butthe compulsion of events is stronger than the obligations ofgood-fellowship. I hope and believe you will be able to forgive me thisunpleasant evening; and for men of your stamp it will be enough to knowthat you are conferring a considerable favour.”
“Your Highness,” said the Major, “must pardon my bluntness. I am unableto hide what I know. For some time back I have suspected MajorHammersmith, but Mr. Godall is unmistakable. To seek two men in Londonunacquainted with Prince Florizel of Bohemia was to ask too much atFortune’s hands.”
“Prince Florizel!” cried Brackenbury in amazement.
And he gazed with the deepest interest on the features of the celebratedpersonage before him.
“I shall not lament the loss of my incognito,” remarked the Prince, “forit enables me to thank you with the more authority. You would have doneas much for Mr. Godall, I feel sure, as for the Prince of Bohemia; butthe latter can perhaps do more for you. The gain is mine,” he added,with a courteous gesture.
And the next moment he was conversing with the two officers about theIndian army and the native troops, a subject on which, as on all others,he had a remarkable fund of information and the soundest views.
There was something so striking in this man’s attitude at a moment ofdeadly peril that Brackenbury was overcome with respectful admiration;nor was he less sensible to the charm of his conversation or thesurprising amenity of his address. Every gesture, every intonation, wasnot only noble in itself, but seemed to ennoble the fortunate mortal forwhom it was intended; and Brackenbury confessed to himself withenthusiasm that this was a sovereign for whom a brave man mightthankfully lay down his life.
Many minutes had thus passed, when the person who had introduced theminto the house, and who had sat ever since in a corner, and with hiswatch in his hand, arose and whispered a word into the Prince’s ear.
“It is well, Dr. Noel,” replied Florizel, aloud; and then addressing theothers, “You will excuse me, gentlemen,” he added, “if I have to leaveyou in the dark. The moment now approaches.”
Dr. Noel extinguished the lamp. A faint, grey light, premonitory of thedawn, illuminated the window, but was not sufficient to illuminate theroom; and when the Prince rose to his feet, it was impossible todistinguish his features or to make a guess at the nature of the emotionwhich obviously affected him as he spoke. He moved towards the door, andplaced himself at one side of it in an attitude of the wariest attention.
“You will have the kindness,” he said, “to maintain the strictestsilence, and to conceal yourselves in the densest of the shadow.”
The three officers and the physician hastened to obey, and for nearly tenminutes the only sound in Rochester House was occasioned by theexcursions of the rats behind the woodwork. At the end of that period, aloud creak of a hinge broke in with surprising distinctness on thesilence; and shortly after, the watchers could distinguish a slow andcautious tread approaching up the kitchen stair. At every second stepthe intruder seemed to pause and lend an ear, and during these intervals,which seemed of an incalculable duration, a profound disquiet possessedthe spirit of the listeners. Dr. Noel, accustomed as he was to dangerousemotions, suffered an almost pitiful physical prostration; his breathwhistled in his lungs, his teeth grated one upon another, and his jointscracked aloud as he nervously shifted his position.
At last a hand was laid upon the door, and the bolt shot back with aslight report. There followed another pause, during which Brackenburycould see the Prince draw himself together noiselessly as if for someunusual exertion. Then the door opened, letting in a little more of thelight of the morning; and the figure of a man appeared upon the thresholdand stood motionless. He was tall, and carried a knife in his hand.Even in the twilight they could see his upper teeth bare and glistening,for his mouth was open like that of a hound about to leap. The man hadevidently been over the head in water but a minute or two before; andeven while he stood there the drops kept falling from his wet clothes andpattered on the floor.
The next moment he crossed the threshold. There was a leap, a stifledcry, an instantaneous struggle; and before Colonel Geraldine could springto his aid, the Prince held the man disarmed and helpless, by theshoulders.
“Dr. Noel,” he said, “you will be so good as to re-light the lamp.”
And relinquishing the charge of his prisoner to Geraldine andBrackenbury, he crossed the room and set his back against thechimney-piece. As soon as the lamp had kindled, the party beheld anunaccustomed sternness on the Prince’s features. It was no longerFlorizel, the careless gentleman; it was the Prince of Bohemia, justlyincensed and full of deadly purpose, who now raised his head andaddressed the captive President of the Suicide Club.
“President,” he said, “you have laid your last snare, and your own feetare taken in it. The day is beginning; it is your last morning. Youhave just swum the Regent’s Canal; it is your last bathe in this world.Your old accomplice, Dr. Noel, so far from betraying me, has deliveredyou into my hands for judgment. And the grave you had dug for me thisafternoon shall serve, in God’s almighty providence, to hide your ownjust doom from the curiosity of mankind. Kneel and pray, sir, if youhave a mind that way; for your time is short, and God is weary of youriniquities.”
The President made no answer either by word or sign; but continued tohang his head and gaze sullenly on the floor, as though he were consciousof the Prince’s prolonged and unsparing regard.
“Gentlemen,” continued Florizel, resuming the ordinary tone of hisconversation, “this is a fellow who has long eluded me, but whom, thanksto Dr. Noel, I now have tightly by the heels. To tell the story of hismisdeeds would occupy more time than we can now afford; but if the canalhad c
ontained nothing but the blood of his victims, I believe the wretchwould have been no drier than you see him. Even in an affair of thissort I desire to preserve the forms of honour. But I make you thejudges, gentlemen—this is more an execution than a duel and to give therogue his choice of weapons would be to push too far a point ofetiquette. I cannot afford to lose my life in such a business,” hecontinued, unlocking the case of swords; “and as a pistol-bullet travelsso often on the wings of chance, and skill and courage may fall by themost trembling marksman, I have decided, and I feel sure you will approvemy determination, to put this question to the touch of swords.”
When Brackenbury and Major O’Rooke, to whom these remarks wereparticularly addressed, had each intimated his approval, “Quick, sir,”added Prince Florizel to the President, “choose a blade and do not keepme waiting; I have an impatience to be done with you for ever.”
For the first time since he was captured and disarmed the Presidentraised his head, and it was plain that he began instantly to pluck upcourage.
“Is it to be stand up?” he asked eagerly, “and between you and me?”
“I mean so far to honour you,” replied the Prince.
“Oh, come!” cried the President. “With a fair field, who knows howthings may happen? I must add that I consider it handsome behaviour onyour Highness’s part; and if the worst comes to the worst I shall die byone of the most gallant gentlemen in Europe.”
And the President, liberated by those who had detained him, stepped up tothe table and began, with minute attention, to select a sword. He washighly elated, and seemed to feel no doubt that he should issuevictorious from the contest. The spectators grew alarmed in the face ofso entire a confidence, and adjured Prince Florizel to reconsider hisintention.
“It is but a farce,” he answered; “and I think I can promise you,gentlemen, that it will not be long a-playing.”
“Your Highness will be careful not to over-reach,” said ColonelGeraldine.
“Geraldine,” returned the Prince, “did you ever know me fail in a debt ofhonour? I owe you this man’s death, and you shall have it.”
The President at last satisfied himself with one of the rapiers, andsignified his readiness by a gesture that was not devoid of a rudenobility. The nearness of peril, and the sense of courage, even to thisobnoxious villain, lent an air of manhood and a certain grace.
The Prince helped himself at random to a sword.
“Colonel Geraldine and Doctor Noel,” he said, “will have the goodness toawait me in this room. I wish no personal friend of mine to be involvedin this transaction. Major O’Rooke, you are a man of some years and asettled reputation—let me recommend the President to your good graces.Lieutenant Rich will be so good as lend me his attentions: a young mancannot have too much experience in such affairs.”
“Your Highness,” replied Brackenbury, “it is an honour I shall prizeextremely.”
“It is well,” returned Prince Florizel; “I shall hope to stand yourfriend in more important circumstances.”
And so saying he led the way out of the apartment and down the kitchenstairs.
The two men who were thus left alone threw open the window and leanedout, straining every sense to catch an indication of the tragical eventsthat were about to follow. The rain was now over; day had almost come,and the birds were piping in the shrubbery and on the forest trees of thegarden. The Prince and his companions were visible for a moment as theyfollowed an alley between two flowering thickets; but at the first cornera clump of foliage intervened, and they were again concealed from view.This was all that the Colonel and the Physician had an opportunity tosee, and the garden was so vast, and the place of combat evidently soremote from the house, that not even the noise of sword-play reachedtheir ears.
“He has taken him towards the grave,” said Dr. Noel, with a shudder.
“God,” cried the Colonel, “God defend the right!”
And they awaited the event in silence, the Doctor shaking with fear, theColonel in an agony of sweat. Many minutes must have elapsed, the daywas sensibly broader, and the birds were singing more heartily in thegarden before a sound of returning footsteps recalled their glancestowards the door. It was the Prince and the two Indian officers whoentered. God had defended the right.
“I am ashamed of my emotion,” said Prince Florizel; “I feel it is aweakness unworthy of my station, but the continued existence of thathound of hell had begun to prey upon me like a disease, and his death hasmore refreshed me than a night of slumber. Look, Geraldine,” hecontinued, throwing his sword upon the floor, “there is the blood of theman who killed your brother. It should be a welcome sight. And yet,” headded, “see how strangely we men are made! my revenge is not yet fiveminutes old, and already I am beginning to ask myself if even revenge beattainable on this precarious stage of life. The ill he did, who canundo it? The career in which he amassed a huge fortune (for the houseitself in which we stand belonged to him)—that career is now a part ofthe destiny of mankind for ever; and I might weary myself making thrustsin carte until the crack of judgment, and Geraldine’s brother would benone the less dead, and a thousand other innocent persons would be nonethe less dishonoured and debauched! The existence of a man is so small athing to take, so mighty a thing to employ! Alas!” he cried, “is thereanything in life so disenchanting as attainment?”
“God’s justice has been done,” replied the Doctor. “So much I behold.The lesson, your Highness, has been a cruel one for me; and I await myown turn with deadly apprehension.”
“What was I saying?” cried the Prince. “I have punished, and here is theman beside us who can help me to undo. Ah, Dr. Noel! you and I havebefore us many a day of hard and honourable toil; and perhaps, before wehave none, you may have more than redeemed your early errors.”
“And in the meantime,” said the Doctor, “let me go and bury my oldestfriend.”
* * * * *
(_And this_, observes the erudite Arabian, _is the fortunate conclusionof the tale_. _The Prince_, _it is superfluous to mention_, _forgot noneof those who served him in this great exploit_; _and to this day hisauthority and influence help them forward in their public career_, _whilehis condescending friendship adds a charm to their private life_. _Tocollect_, continues my author, _all the strange events in which thisPrince has played the part of Providence were to fill the habitable globewith books_. _But the stories which relate to the fortunes of_ THERAJAH’S DIAMOND _are of too entertaining a description_, says he, _to beomitted_. _Following prudently in the footsteps of this Oriental_, _weshall now begin the series to which he refers with the_ STORY OF THEBANDBOX.)