_THE BROWN BOX_(_Concluded_)
The effect of this tale on the mind of Harry Desborough was instant andconvincing. The Fair Cuban had been already the loveliest, she nowbecame, in his eyes, the most romantic, the most innocent, and the mostunhappy of her sex. He was bereft of words to utter what he felt: whatpity, what admiration, what youthful envy of a career so vivid andadventurous. 'O madam!' he began; and finding no language adequate tothat apostrophe, caught up her hand and wrung it in his own. 'Count uponme,' he added, with bewildered fervour; and getting somehow or other outof the apartment and from the circle of that radiant sorceress, he foundhimself in the strange out-of-doors, beholding dull houses, wondering atdull passers-by, a fallen angel. She had smiled upon him as he left, andwith how significant, how beautiful a smile! The memory lingered in hisheart; and when he found his way to a certain restaurant where music wasperformed, flutes (as it were of Paradise) accompanied his meal. Thestrings went to the melody of that parting smile; they paraphrased andglossed it in the sense that he desired; and for the first time in hisplain and somewhat dreary life, he perceived himself to have a taste formusic.
The next day, and the next, his meditations moved to that delectable air.Now he saw her, and was favoured; now saw her not at all; now saw her andwas put by. The fall of her foot upon the stair entranced him; the booksthat he sought out and read were books on Cuba, and spoke of herindirectly; nay, and in the very landlady's parlour, he found one thattold of precisely such a hurricane, and, down to the smallest detail,confirmed (had confirmation been required) the truth of her recital.Presently he began to fall into that prettiest mood of a young love, inwhich the lover scorns himself for his presumption. Who was he, the dullone, the commonplace unemployed, the man without adventure, the impure,the untruthful, to aspire to such a creature made of fire and air, andhallowed and adorned by such incomparable passages of life? What shouldhe do, to be more worthy? by what devotion, call down the notice of theseeyes to so terrene a being as himself?
He betook himself, thereupon, to the rural privacy of the square, where,being a lad of a kind heart, he had made himself a circle ofacquaintances among its shy frequenters, the half-domestic cats and thevisitors that hung before the windows of the Children's Hospital. Therehe walked, considering the depth of his demerit and the height of theadored one's super-excellence; now lighting upon earth to say a pleasantword to the brother of some infant invalid; now, with a great heave ofbreath, remembering the queen of women, and the sunshine of his life.
What was he to do? Teresa, he had observed, was in the habit of leavingthe house towards afternoon: she might, perchance, run danger from someCuban emissary, when the presence of a friend might turn the balance inher favour: how, then, if he should follow her? To offer his companywould seem like an intrusion; to dog her openly were a manifestimpertinence; he saw himself reduced to a more stealthy part, which,though in some ways distasteful to his mind, he did not doubt that hecould practise with the skill of a detective.
The next day he proceeded to put his plan in action. At the corner ofTottenham Court Road, however, the Senorita suddenly turned back, and methim face to face, with every mark of pleasure and surprise.
'Ah, Senor, I am sometimes fortunate!' she cried. 'I was looking for amessenger;' and with the sweetest of smiles, she despatched him to theEast End of London, to an address which he was unable to find. This wasa bitter pill to the knight-errant; but when he returned at night, wornout with fruitless wandering and dismayed by his _fiasco_, the ladyreceived him with a friendly gaiety, protesting that all was for thebest, since she had changed her mind and long since repented of hermessage.
Next day he resumed his labours, glowing with pity and courage, anddetermined to protect Teresa with his life. But a painful shock awaitedhim. In the narrow and silent Hanway Street, she turned suddenly aboutand addressed him with a manner and a light in her eyes that were new tothe young man's experience.
'Do I understand that you follow me, Senor?' she cried. 'Are these themanners of the English gentleman?'
Harry confounded himself in the most abject apologies and prayers to beforgiven, vowed to offend no more, and was at length dismissed,crestfallen and heavy of heart. The check was final; he gave up thatroad to service; and began once more to hang about the square or on theterrace, filled with remorse and love, admirable and idiotic, a fitobject for the scorn and envy of older men. In these idle hours, whilehe was courting fortune for a sight of the beloved, it fell out naturallythat he should observe the manners and appearance of such as came aboutthe house. One person alone was the occasional visitor of the younglady: a man of considerable stature, and distinguished only by thedoubtful ornament of a chin-beard in the style of an American deacon.Something in his appearance grated upon Harry; this distaste grew uponhim in the course of days; and when at length he mustered courage toinquire of the Fair Cuban who this was, he was yet more dismayed by herreply.
'That gentleman,' said she, a smile struggling to her face, 'thatgentleman, I will not attempt to conceal from you, desires my hand inmarriage, and presses me with the most respectful ardour. Alas, what amI to say? I, the forlorn Teresa, how shall I refuse or accept suchprotestations?'
Harry feared to say more; a horrid pang of jealousy transfixed him; andhe had scarce the strength of mind to take his leave with decency. Inthe solitude of his own chamber, he gave way to every manifestation ofdespair. He passionately adored the Senorita; but it was not only thethought of her possible union with another that distressed his soul, itwas the indefeasible conviction that her suitor was unworthy. To a duke,a bishop, a victorious general, or any man adorned with obviousqualities, he had resigned her with a sort of bitter joy; he saw himselffollow the wedding party from a great way off; he saw himself return tothe poor house, then robbed of its jewel; and while he could have weptfor his despair, he felt he could support it nobly. But this affairlooked otherwise. The man was patently no gentleman; he had a startled,skulking, guilty bearing; his nails were black, his eyes evasive; hislove perhaps was a pretext; he was perhaps, under this deep disguise, aCuban emissary!
Harry swore that he would satisfy these doubts; and the next evening,about the hour of the usual visit, he posted himself at a spot whence hiseye commanded the three issues of the square.
Presently after, a four-wheeler rumbled to the door, and the man with thechin-beard alighted, paid off the cabman, and was seen by Harry to enterthe house with a brown box hoisted on his back. Half an hour later, hecame forth again without the box, and struck eastward at a rapid walk;and Desborough, with the same skill and caution that he had displayed infollowing Teresa, proceeded to dog the steps of her admirer. The manbegan to loiter, studying with apparent interest the wares of the smallfruiterer or tobacconist; twice he returned hurriedly upon his formercourse; and then, as though he had suddenly conquered a moment'shesitation, once more set forth with resolute and swift steps in thedirection of Lincoln's Inn. At length, in a deserted by-street, heturned; and coming up to Harry with a countenance which seemed to havebecome older and whiter, inquired with some severity of speech if he hadnot had the pleasure of seeing the gentleman before.
'You have, sir,' said Harry, somewhat abashed, but with a good show ofstoutness; 'and I will not deny that I was following you on purpose.Doubtless,' he added, for he supposed that all men's minds must still berunning on Teresa, 'you can divine my reason.'
At these words, the man with the chin-beard was seized with a palsiedtremor. He seemed, for some seconds, to seek the utterance which hisfear denied him; and then whipping sharply about, he took to his heels atthe most furious speed of running.
Harry was at first so taken aback that he neglected to pursue; and by thetime he had recovered his wits, his best expedition was only rewarded bya glimpse of the man with the chin-beard mounting into a hansom, whichimmediately after disappeared into the moving crowds of Holborn.
Puzzled and dismayed by this unusual behaviour, Harry returned to t
hehouse in Queen Square, and ventured for the first time to knock at thefair Cuban's door. She bade him enter, and he found her kneeling withrather a disconsolate air beside a brown wooden trunk.
'Senorita,' he broke out, 'I doubt whether that man's character is whathe wishes you to believe. His manner, when he found, and indeed when Iadmitted that I was following him, was not the manner of an honest man.'
'Oh!' she cried, throwing up her hands as in desperation, 'Don Quixote,Don Quixote, have you again been tilting against windmills?' And then,with a laugh, 'Poor soul!' she added, 'how you must have terrified him!For know that the Cuban authorities are here, and your poor Teresa maysoon be hunted down. Even yon humble clerk from my solicitor's officemay find himself at any moment the quarry of armed spies.'
'A humble clerk!' cried Harry, 'why, you told me yourself that he wishedto marry you!'
'I thought you English like what you call a joke,' replied the ladycalmly. 'As a matter of fact, he is my lawyer's clerk, and has been hereto-night charged with disastrous news. I am in sore straits, SenorHarry. Will you help me?'
At this most welcome word, the young man's heart exulted; and in thehope, pride, and self-esteem that kindled with the very thought ofservice, he forgot to dwell upon the lady's jest. 'Can you ask?' hecried. 'What is there that I can do? Only tell me that.'
With signs of an emotion that was certainly unfeigned, the fair Cubanlaid her hand upon the box. 'This box,' she said, 'contains my jewels,papers, and clothes; all, in a word, that still connects me with Cuba andmy dreadful past. They must now be smuggled out of England; or, by theopinion of my lawyer, I am lost beyond remedy. To-morrow, on board theIrish packet, a sure hand awaits the box: the problem still unsolved, isto find some one to carry it as far as Holyhead, to see it placed onboard the steamer, and instantly return to town. Will you be he? Willyou leave to-morrow by the first train, punctually obey orders, bearstill in mind that you are surrounded by Cuban spies; and without so muchas a look behind you, or a single movement to betray your interest, leavethe box where you have put it and come straight on shore? Will you dothis, and so save your friend?'
'I do not clearly understand . . .' began Harry.
'No more do I,' replied the Cuban. 'It is not necessary that we should,so long as we obey the lawyer's orders.'
'Senorita,' returned Harry gravely, 'I think this, of course, a verylittle thing to do for you, when I would willingly do all. But suffer meto say one word. If London is unsafe for your treasures, it cannot longbe safe for you; and indeed, if I at all fathom the plan of yoursolicitor, I fear I may find you already fled on my return. I am notconsidered clever, and can only speak out plainly what is in my heart:that I love you, and that I cannot bear to lose all knowledge of you. Ihope no more than to be your servant; I ask no more than just that Ishall hear of you. Oh, promise me so much!'
'You shall,' she said, after a pause. 'I promise you, you shall.' Butthough she spoke with earnestness, the marks of great embarrassment and astrong conflict of emotions appeared upon her face.
'I wish to tell you,' resumed Desborough, 'in case of accidents. . . .'
'Accidents!' she cried: 'why do you say that?'
'I do not know,' said he, 'you may be gone before my return, and we maynot meet again for long. And so I wished you to know this: That sincethe day you gave me the cigarette, you have never once, not once, beenabsent from my mind; and if it will in any way serve you, you may crumpleme up like that piece of paper, and throw me on the fire. I would loveto die for you.'
'Go!' she said. 'Go now at once. My brain is in a whirl. I scarce knowwhat we are talking. Go; and good-night; and oh, may you come safe!'
Once back in his own room a fearful joy possessed the young man's mind;and as he recalled her face struck suddenly white and the brokenutterance of her last words, his heart at once exulted and misgave him.Love had indeed looked upon him with a tragic mask; and yet whatmattered, since at least it was love--since at least she was commoved attheir division? He got to bed with these parti-coloured thoughts; passedfrom one dream to another all night long, the white face of Teresa stillhaunting him, wrung with unspoken thoughts; and in the grey of the dawn,leaped suddenly out of bed, in a kind of horror. It was already time forhim to rise. He dressed, made his breakfast on cold food that had beenlaid for him the night before; and went down to the room of his idol forthe box. The door was open; a strange disorder reigned within; thefurniture all pushed aside, and the centre of the room left bare ofimpediment, as though for the pacing of a creature with a tortured mind.There lay the box, however, and upon the lid a paper with these words:'Harry, I hope to be back before you go. Teresa.'
He sat down to wait, laying his watch before him on the table. She hadcalled him Harry: that should be enough, he thought, to fill the day withsunshine; and yet somehow the sight of that disordered room stillpoisoned his enjoyment. The door of the bed-chamber stood gaping open;and though he turned aside his eyes as from a sacrilege, he could not butobserve the bed had not been slept in. He was still pondering what thisshould mean, still trying to convince himself that all was well, when themoving needle of his watch summoned him to set forth without delay. Hewas before all things a man of his word; ran round to Southampton Row tofetch a cab; and taking the box on the front seat, drove off towards theterminus.
The streets were scarcely awake; there was little to amuse the eye; andthe young man's attention centred on the dumb companion of his drive. Acard was nailed upon one side, bearing the superscription: 'Miss Doolan,passenger to Dublin. Glass. With care.' He thought with a sentimentalshock that the fair idol of his heart was perhaps driven to adopt thename of Doolan; and as he still studied the card, he was aware of adeadly, black depression settling steadily upon his spirits. It was invain for him to contend against the tide; in vain that he shook himselfor tried to whistle: the sense of some impending blow was not to beaverted. He looked out; in the long, empty streets, the cab pursued itsway without a trace of any follower. He gave ear; and over and above thejolting of the wheels upon the road, he was conscious of a certainregular and quiet sound that seemed to issue from the box. He put hisear to the cover; at one moment, he seemed to perceive a delicateticking: the next, the sound was gone, nor could his closest hearkeningrecapture it. He laughed at himself; but still the gloom continued; andit was with more than the common relief of an arrival, that he leapedfrom the cab before the station.
Probably enough on purpose, Teresa had named an hour some thirty minutesearlier than needful; and when Harry had given the box into the charge ofa porter, who sat it on a truck, he proceeded briskly to pace theplatform. Presently the bookstall opened; and the young man was lookingat the books when he was seized by the arm. He turned, and, though shewas closely veiled, at once recognised the Fair Cuban.
'Where is it?' she asked; and the sound of her voice surprised him.
'It?' he said. 'What?'
'The box. Have it put on a cab instantly. I am in fearful haste.'
He hurried to obey, marvelling at these changes, but not daring totrouble her with questions; and when the cab had been brought round, andthe box mounted on the front, she passed a little way off upon thepavement and beckoned him to follow.
'Now,' said she, still in those mechanical and hushed tones that had atfirst affected him, 'you must go on to Holyhead alone; go on board thesteamer; and if you see a man in tartan trousers and a pink scarf, say tohim that all has been put off: if not,' she added, with a sobbing sigh,'it does not matter. So, good-bye.'
'Teresa,' said Harry, 'get into your cab, and I will go along with you.You are in some distress, perhaps some danger; and till I know the whole,not even you can make me leave you.'
'You will not?' she asked. 'O Harry, it were better!'
'I will not,' said Harry stoutly.
She looked at him for a moment through her veil; took his hand suddenlyand sharply, but more as if in fear than tenderness; and still holdinghim, walked to th
e cab-door.
'Where are we to drive?' asked Harry.
'Home, quickly,' she answered; 'double fare!' And as soon as they hadboth mounted to their places, the vehicle crazily trundled from thestation.
Teresa leaned back in a corner. The whole way Harry could perceive hertears to flow under her veil; but she vouchsafed no explanation. At thedoor of the house in Queen Square, both alighted; and the cabman loweredthe box, which Harry, glad to display his strength, received upon hisshoulders.
'Let the man take it,' she whispered. 'Let the man take it.'
'I will do no such thing,' said Harry cheerfully; and having paid thefare, he followed Teresa through the door which she had opened with herkey. The landlady and maid were gone upon their morning errands; thehouse was empty and still; and as the rattling of the cab died away downGloucester Street, and Harry continued to ascend the stair with hisburthen, he heard close against his shoulders the same faint and muffledticking as before. The lady, still preceding him, opened the door of herroom, and helped him to lower the box tenderly in the corner by thewindow.
'And now,' said Harry, 'what is wrong?'
'You will not go away?' she cried, with a sudden break in her voice andbeating her hands together in the very agony of impatience. 'O Harry,Harry, go away! Oh, go, and leave me to the fate that I deserve!'
'The fate?' repeated Harry. 'What is this?'
'No fate,' she resumed. 'I do not know what I am saying. But I wish tobe alone. You may come back this evening, Harry; come again when youlike; but leave me now, only leave me now!' And then suddenly, 'I havean errand,' she exclaimed; 'you cannot refuse me that!'
'No,' replied Harry, 'you have no errand. You are in grief or danger.Lift your veil and tell me what it is.'
'Then,' she said, with a sudden composure, 'you leave but one course opento me.' And raising the veil, she showed him a countenance from whichevery trace of colour had fled, eyes marred with weeping, and a brow onwhich resolve had conquered fear. 'Harry,' she began, 'I am not what Iseem.'
'You have told me that before,' said Harry, 'several times.'
'O Harry, Harry,' she cried, 'how you shame me! But this is the God'struth. I am a dangerous and wicked girl. My name is Clara Luxmore. Iwas never nearer Cuba than Penzance. From first to last I have cheatedand played with you. And what I am I dare not even name to you in words.Indeed, until to-day, until the sleepless watches of last night, I nevergrasped the depth and foulness of my guilt.'
The young man looked upon her aghast. Then a generous current pouredalong his veins. 'That is all one,' he said. 'If you be all you say,you have the greater need of me.'
'Is it possible,' she exclaimed, 'that I have schemed in vain? And willnothing drive you from this house of death?'
'Of death?' he echoed.
'Death!' she cried: 'death! In that box that you have dragged aboutLondon and carried on your defenceless shoulders, sleep, at the trigger'smercy, the destroying energies of dynamite.'
'My God!' cried Harry.
'Ah!' she continued wildly, 'will you flee now? At any moment you mayhear the click that sounds the ruin of this building. I was sure M'Guirewas wrong; this morning, before day, I flew to Zero; he confirmed myfears; I beheld you, my beloved Harry, fall a victim to my owncontrivances. I knew then I loved you--Harry, will you go now? Will younot spare me this unwilling crime?'
Harry remained speechless, his eyes fixed upon the box: at last he turnedto her.
'Is it,' he asked hoarsely, 'an infernal machine?'
Her lips formed the word 'Yes,' which her voice refused to utter.
With fearful curiosity, he drew near and bent above the box; in thatstill chamber, the ticking was distinctly audible; and at the measuredsound, the blood flowed back upon his heart.
'For whom?' he asked.
'What matters it,' she cried, seizing him by the arm. 'If you may stillbe saved, what matter questions?'
'God in heaven!' cried Harry. 'And the Children's Hospital! At whatevercost, this damned contrivance must be stopped!'
'It cannot,' she gasped. 'The power of man cannot avert the blow. Butyou, Harry--you, my beloved--you may still--'
And then from the box that lay so quietly in the corner, a sudden catchwas audible, like the catch of a clock before it strikes the hour. Forone second the two stared at each other with lifted brows and stony eyes.Then Harry, throwing one arm over his face, with the other clutched thegirl to his breast and staggered against the wall.
A dull and startling thud resounded through the room; their eyes blinkedagainst the coming horror; and still clinging together like drowningpeople, they fell to the floor. Then followed a prolonged and stridenthissing as from the indignant pit; an offensive stench seized them by thethroat; the room was filled with dense and choking fumes.
Presently these began a little to disperse: and when at length they drewthemselves, all limp and shaken, to a sitting posture, the first objectthat greeted their vision was the box reposing uninjured in its corner,but still leaking little wreaths of vapour round the lid.
'Oh, poor Zero!' cried the girl, with a strange sobbing laugh. 'Alas,poor Zero! This will break his heart!'