CHAPTER VIII.
MORE THAN HIS MATCH.
Yes, unannounced. I am sure that if I had had the least suspicion ofhis approaching presence I should have kept him out by the simpleexpedient of turning the key in the door. As it was, there he stood, asbold as brass, holding in one hand the handle of the door which he hadclosed behind him, and in the other his hat, the brim of which he waspressing to his breast.
A striking change had been effected in his appearance since I had seenhim last. He had expended a portion of my hundred pounds to advantagein a tailor's shop. He was newly clad from top to toe. The overcoatwhich he had on was new, and so also was the astrachan which made itglorious. Thrown wide open, it revealed the fact that the gloss ofnewness was still upon the garments which it covered. A goldwatch-chain ran from pocket to pocket of his waistcoat. Beautiful kidgloves encased his hands. Spats adorned his brand-new polished boots.His silk hat shone like a mirror. Even the dye upon his hair andwhiskers had been renewed; it gleamed a beautiful blue-black. In hisnew splendour his resemblance to Mr. Townsend was more pronounced thanever. Even in the state of agitation which, ill as I was, his suddenappearance caused me, I could not but be struck by that.
He showed not the slightest sign of discomposure at the manner in whichI greeted him. He stood grinning like a mountebank, not only as if hewas sure of a hearty welcome, but as if the whole house belonged tohim.
"Sorry, Mr. Tennant, to hear you are unwell--really grieved. I can onlyhope that it is nothing serious."
His impudence was a little more than even I could stand. I let him seeit.
"What the dickens do you mean, sir, by entering my bedroom?"
In reply, he only smiled the more.
"My dear sir, I am here out of pure consideration for you. When I heardof your ill-health, I could not bear the thought of subjecting you tothe inconvenience of coming down to me. So, instead, I came to you."
"Then, having come, perhaps you would be so good as, at once, to goagain."
He turned towards me with a movement of his eyebrows, as if to expresssurprise.
"Gently, sir! Surely you presume upon the presence of a lady. Is thatthe way in which you should speak to me? I have no desire to keep you.My business with you ought not to detain me more than half a minute."
He seated himself on a chair, which he drew up towards the fire.Placing his hat upon his knee, he began to smooth the nap with hisgloved hand. Unbearable though I felt his insolence to be, I saw that,unless I employed actual violence, I should not be able to induce himto budge. I looked at my wife. I should not have minded so much if shehad not been there. I had borne with the fellow's insolence before; Imight have borne with it again. But I was conscious that Lucy's eye wasupon me, and that, unreasonably enough, she was expecting me to showthe sort of stuff of which I was made. I say that this attitude of herswas an unreasonable attitude, because, what could she expect of a manwho was recovering from a severe attack of illness, and whose nervoussystem was a shattered wreck. I temporised.
"What do you want with me?"
I fixed my gaze upon him. Avoiding it, he flicked his gloved fingers inthe direction of my wife.
"At your service! Pray do not let me inconvenience the lady."
"You do inconvenience the lady greatly."
Both my tone and my manner were severe--as severe, that is, as theycould be--considering that I was in my night-shirt sitting up in bed.
"I trust not. I would not wish her to leave the room one moment sooneron our account."
Then I saw what he was at. He wanted to get me alone and without theaid of my wife's moral support to back me. I looked at Lucy. She wasstanding very straight, looking alternately at both of us, as if shewere making up her mind which she ought to admire most--or least. Icaught a gleam from the corner of her eye. It was the one I sought.
"I have no secrets from my wife. What you wish to say to me you may sayin her presence, and be so good as to say it quickly, sir."
Leaning back in his chair, thrusting his thumbs into the armholes ofhis waistcoat, the fellow looked at Lucy with a smile upon his impudentface for which I could have struck him--and no doubt I should havestruck him, had my health permitted it.
"No secrets from your wife? What a model husband you must be! Permitme, madam, to tender you my most sincere congratulations--you havesecured a prize."
My wife said nothing. But I saw her lips curl.
"Do not address yourself to my wife, sir; address yourself to me."
Still lolling back in the chair, the fellow turned, with the sameimpudent smile, to me.
"To you? Certainly I will address myself to you. I am here to addressmyself to you, though my address will not occupy more than half a dozenwords. I want from you a hundred pounds. That is the only remark whichI wish to address to you."
"What!"
I was reduced to gasping.
"Surely what I say is plain enough. And don't I say it plainly? I wantfrom you a hundred pounds."
"This is Friday, and you only had a hundred pounds from me on Monday."
"Yes, and this, as you say, is Friday. A hundred pounds are but ahundred pounds. In the hands of a gentleman they fly. Especially whenhe has to provide for what may be called preliminary expenses of acertain kind, which, in themselves, make a hole in a century."
I knew to what he referred. He meant that he had replenished hiswardrobe. As though that had anything to do with me.
"Do you imagine that I am a bank at which you have a large currentaccount on which you can draw at sight."
He laughed--or pretended to.
"That is precisely what I not only imagine, but fervently believe."
"Then your belief is a very foolish one. I assure you that you werenever more in error in your life."
He glanced at a gold watch which he took out of his waistcoat pocket.
"Why should we waste time over these small quibbles? Are we children,you and I? I have an engagement shortly. If you have not the sum in thehouse in gold I will take what you have in cash, and the balance in anopen cheque to bearer."
"You will have neither cash nor cheque from me. I will not give you onesingle penny."
"Do you mean it?"
He replaced his watch in his pocket. He rose from his chair. There was,in his bearing a return to the manner of "the Villain at the Vic." Thefellow was theatrical all through. All his moods were equally unreal.At the same time there was something about the change which I did notaltogether relish.
"Of course I mean it. You don't suppose that I am going to be robbedand plundered with impunity by you."
"You prefer to hang?"
"You know that I am as innocent of crime as you are, and probably muchmore so."
"Don't lie to me, you hound!" He turned with a sweeping gesture towardsmy wife. "You must excuse me, madam, but you will do me the justice toremember that I suggested your departure from the room. I cannot allowyour presence to debar me from plain speaking." Directing his attentionagain towards me, he began to button up his brand-new overcoat, with adeliberation which was, doubtless, intended to impress me. "As you havebeen lying in your bed, like a cur hiding in its kennel--because praydon't suppose that you can make me believe that you have been sick withanything else but terror--I don't know, my man, if you are aware thatall England is on tiptoe, watching for your capture. If I were to pointyou out, at this moment, in any street in England, the people wouldtear you limb from limb. The whole country is thirsting, righteouslythirsting, for your blood."
"It is false!"
"Is it? Refuse to give me what I ask, and I will prove to you if it isfalse."
"I won't be robbed by you."
"Then you'll be hung by me instead." He raised his hat, as if he wasabout to put it on his head. "Once more, and for the last time, whichis it to be--the gallows or the hundred pounds?"
"You'll get no hundred pounds from me. I swear it."
"Then it will be the gallow
s. In ten minutes the news will be flashingthrough the land that justice has its hands about the murderer's neck."
He clapped his hat upon his head. He moved towards the door. I went allhot and cold--anybody would have gone all hot and cold with such aprospect as the scoundrel pictured in front of him. Whether, with aview of appealing to his better self--if he had one, which I doubt--Ishould have prevented his leaving the room, is more than I can say. Imight have done. After all, self-preservation is nature's first andgreatest law. I had, and always should have, an incurable objection tobeing hanged by such a rascal. As it was, it was my wife thatinterposed.
"One moment, sir, before you go."
He removed his hat--with a flourish which, as usual, was reminiscent ofthe transpontine drama.
"Madam, ten thousand, if you wish it."
"Are you the person who travelled in the next compartment to myhusband's from Brighton?"
"Madam, I am."
"You look it."
The fellow might be excused for looking a little startled--which hecertainly did do. I have found that particular tone of Lucy's, now andthen, a little startling myself. The man did not seem as if he quiteknew what to make of it.
"I look it, madam--how do you mean?"
"You look the sort of character."
"To what sort of character, madam, do you refer?"
"You look like the sort of person who would wear another man'sclothes."
He drew himself bolt upright, as if his backbone had suddenly beenstraightened by a spring.
"Madam! I would have you to know that I wear no one's clothes but myown."
"You are wearing my husband's clothes at this present moment."
"Your husband's clothes?"
"Were they not purchased with his money?"
"Madam! you have a very extraordinary way of putting things. Is itpossible that you intend to be offensive?"
"Is it possible to be offensive to such as you?"
"I, madam, am a gentleman, born and bred."
"That you are a gentleman of a certain kind I have no doubt whatever."
The man began to look badgered, as if he were growing conscious of afeeling of tightness about the region of the chest. He commenced tosmooth the nap of his hat, violently, with his gloved hand.
"I take it, Mrs. Tennant, that you don't quite realise the position inwhich your husband stands."
"And I take it that you don't at all realise the position in which youstand."
The fellow ceased brushing his hat, the better to enable him to stare.
"I stand?"
"Yes, you."
"And pray, madam, how do I stand?"
"Have you ever heard of such a thing as an accessory after the fact?"
"An accessory after the fact?"
"Because that is the position in which you stand--in the position of anaccessory after the fact."
The man looked unmistakably uneasy. He continued to suspend theoperation of smoothing his hat.
"You are pleased to be facetious."
"You will find that that view will not be taken by a judge and jury."
It was with a distinct effort that the fellow returned to an attitudeof defiance--squaring his shoulders and tugging at his moustache.
"I have no wish, and no intention, to chop phrases with a lady. Iimagined, madam, that you desired to say something pertinent to yourhusband's terrible position--with the gallows already shadowing him.Since it appears to be otherwise I can but proceed to do my duty."
"By all means do your duty. But you understand that when my husband isarrested you will be arrested too."
"Pooh, madam--you cannot frighten me!"
"But I can, and will, get you penal servitude for life."
"Can you, indeed, madam? May I ask how you propose to do it?"
"By telling the plain and simple story of your connection with myhusband. That will be sufficient, as you know."
"I know nothing of the sort; tell your story, and be hanged!"
Thrusting his hat upon his head, the fellow marched out of the room ina couple of strides. His exit, whether consciously to himself or not,was marked rather by haste than by dignity. When he had gone I lookedat my wife. Lucy, on her part, looked at the door through which he hadvanished.
"Now you've done it," I observed.
Lucy turned to me with a smile hovering about her lips, which, underthe circumstances, I thought was a little out of place.
"I have done it, as you say."
"You don't seem to be aware of what you've done. What's the good oftalking to him like that? Do you suppose that you can frightenhim--that you can take him in? He knows very well that whatever happensto me he'll go scatheless. He's the one witness whom the prosecutionwill not be able to do without."
"I think you are mistaken. With a man of that type the high horse isthe only horse you ought to ride. He desires nothing less than to getinto the witness-box, or I misjudge the man. I suspect that his ownrecord is not of a kind which he would care to have exposed to thecross-examining light of day."
Hardly were the words out of her mouth than there came a tap at thepanel of the door. Lucy shot a glance towards me.
"Who's there?" she asked.
Whom should it be but our friend the scoundrel. He came in with quite adove-like air of mildness, mincing, like a dancing-master, on his toes.
"Excuse me, but even on the front door steps my heart got the upperhand of me. I could not do what seemed even to approximate to cruelty.I could not hang anybody--I judge not, so that I may not be judged. Myone aspiration is, and always has been, to be a friend in need. Icannot help it, but so I am."
Producing a parti-coloured silk handkerchief--brand new--he manipulatedit in such a manner as to diffuse an odour of perfume through the room.My wife looked him up and down. Her tone was dry.
"Your sentiments do you credit."
"They do, I know it; but, such as they are, they are mine own." Hecoughed. "So far as I am personally concerned, financial considerationsare as nothing. It is circumstances which weigh me down. Instead of onehundred pounds, suppose we say seventy-five--in a cheque and cash."
Lucy took upon herself to answer him--
"I am afraid we cannot say seventy-five."
"Merely as a temporary advance, till Monday. I expect remittances onMonday, very large remittances, from my agents."
Lucy's tone was even drier than before. "I am glad to hear it."
"Yes, quite so." The fellow glanced towards me. He came sneakingtowards my bed. He spoke to me under cover of his hat. "I think, Mr.Tennant, if you were to ask your good lady to withdraw, and were toallow me to have one word with you, between ourselves, in private--justone--I know we should understand each other; I am sure we should."
I looked at Lucy. She also looked at me. I am bound to admit that whatI saw in her eyes supplied me, to a certain extent, with the moralstamina in which, owing to the severe illness from which I had recentlybeen suffering, I was temporarily deficient. I spoke to the fellowplainly--
"No, sir. As I have already told you, I have no secrets from my wife,and whatever you wish to say to me must be said while she is present."
"You are--you are"--I suspect that he was going to say something thereverse of complimentary, only Lucy's presence and attitude induced himto change his mind--"a husband in a million. Now, Mr. Tennant, allowme, as one gentleman speaking to another, to ask you if, consideringall things, you are not disposed to advance me, on unimpeachablesurety--that of my word--the sum of seventy-five pounds."
"I am not, sir."
"You are not? Strange! I confess I had not thought it possible.However, I will not utter what may seem a word of reproach. We willmake it fifty pounds, then."
"We will not. At least, I won't."
"Then, since fifty pounds is insufficient to supply even my mostpressing needs, it is useless for me to attempt to carry the discussionfurther. You are compelling me, Mr. Tennant, to take a step which, whenit is taken, we shall both of us regre
t. But, remember, whatever comesof it--and ill will come--the act is yours, not mine. I wish yougood-day, sir; a last good-day! Also, madam, I wish good-day to you."He marched to the door in a fashion which, this time, made up indignity what it lost in haste. With the handle of the open door in hishand, he turned to me again, "I will concede still one more point. Wewill make it forty-five."
"We won't."
"Then nothing remains." He vanished, to immediately reappear; his headand shoulders were inserted through the partly open door. "Shall wemake it forty?"
"Nor forty."
Instead of taking the rebuff as final, he brought his legs and bodyinto the room after his head and shoulders. He addressed himself toLucy.
"I am conscious, madam, that in this matter yours is the controllingvoice. May I ask if you quite realise the responsibilities of yourposition? Your husband's life hangs in the balance. My necessities urgeme on. Were it otherwise, I shall be only too happy to give thatassistance of which, at present, I stand in need. Even as it is, youshall find in me no huckster. In proof of it, I need only state that Iam willing to accept the loan of a paltry five-and-twenty pounds."
"You won't get it."
"Then what shall I get? I find it hard to believe that a man can bereduced to the position of a mendicant! I ask again--what shall I get?"
"Nothing."
"That is not only foolish, madam, it is cruel. Shall we speak of such abagatelle as fifteen pounds?"
"No."
The fellow made a grimace as if he ground his teeth.
"Ten?"
"No."
He threw out his arms as if appealing to the gods of the gallery.
"Confound it; is a gentleman to be reduced to ask for the loan of atrumpery five-pound note!"
"Though he asks, he will not get it."
He looked at Lucy, as if he could not believe she was in earnest. Thenhe sighed, or groaned. His hat, which he had been holding in his hand,he replaced upon his head. Throwing his overcoat wide open, he began toexamine his pockets, methodically, one by one, as if he searched forsomething. He did not find it, whatever it was.
"Bare, absolutely bare! This is awful. 'To err is human, to forgivedivine!'" He raised his hat about an inch from his head, possibly underthe impression that it was a text which he was quoting. "I came intothis house with my heart beating high with hope, filled with the milkof human kindness, and it ends in this. It seems absurd to pawn a watchwithin four-and-twenty hours of buying it, though I certainly nevershould have bought it had I foreseen that I should receive suchtreatment. Might I ask you to oblige me with the loan of a sovereign tokeep me going till I receive my remittances on Monday?"
"Better not. Your request would only meet with a refusal."
"Would it? That does finish it, that does. I'm off." I thought thatthis time he was off finally, but scarcely was he off than he was backagain. He came hurrying towards me across the room. "I say, Tennant,I'm actually without a cab fare. Lend me five shillings, there's atrump."
"I will not lend you fivepence."
"You won't, won't you? Now we do know where we are." He glared about inhis best tragedy style. "Perhaps you will give me back thathandkerchief you borrowed."
Lucy interposed. "I shall not."
"You won't? Do you mean to steal it? Is it your intention to add theftto the rest of the family crimes?"
"I mean to keep it as evidence."
"As evidence? What do you mean?"
"As evidence of your being an accessory after the fact. If you take myadvice, with the proceeds of the pawning of the watch which youpurchased with my husband's money, you will remove yourself as far fromthe reach of the police as you conveniently can."
He put his hand up to his chin, as if pondering her words.
"If you will lend me----"
Lucy cut him short. She threw the door wide open.
"I will lend you nothing. Now go--unless you wish me to send for thepolice."
He looked at her, not seeming to like what he saw. He scowled hisfinest scowl.
"Go? Oh yes, I'll go." He cast his eyes up towards the ceiling."Ingratitude, thy name is woman!" Then down to me--"Not to mentionman." He began to button up his overcoat as if in a hurry. "I'll beeven with some one over this, you see if I don't."
Then he went finally. We heard him stamping down the stairs; then weheard him shut the hall door behind him with a clatter and a bang as hewent out into the street.