English
Therewasnolampinthehall,butbythedimlightofthekitchencandle,whichthegirlhadbroughtupstairswithher,Isawanelderlyladystealnoiselesslyoutofabackroomonthegroundfloor.
ShecastoneviperishlookatmeasIenteredthehall,butsaidnothing,andwentslowlyupstairswithoutreturningmybow.
MyfamiliaritywithMarian’sjournalsufficientlyassuredmethattheelderlyladywasMadameFosco.
TheservantledmetotheroomwhichtheCountesshadjustleft.Ienteredit,andfoundmyselffacetofacewiththeCount.
Hewasstillinhiseveningdress,excepthiscoat,whichhehadthrownacrossachair.
Hisshirt-sleeveswereturnedupatthewrists,butnohigher.
Acarpet-bagwasononesideofhim,andaboxontheother.
Books,papers,andarticlesofwearingapparelwerescatteredabouttheroom.
Onatable,atonesideofthedoor,stoodthecage,sowellknowntomebydescription,whichcontainedhiswhitemice.
Thecanariesandthecockatoowereprobablyinsomeotherroom.
Hewasseatedbeforethebox,packingit,whenIwentin,androsewithsomepapersinhishandtoreceiveme.
HisfacestillbetrayedplaintracesoftheshockthathadoverwhelmedhimattheOpera.
Hisfatcheekshungloose,hiscoldgreyeyeswerefurtivelyvigilant,hisvoice,look,andmannerwereallsharplysuspiciousalike,asheadvancedasteptomeetme,andrequested,withdistantcivility,thatIwouldtakeachair.
“Youcomehereonbusiness,sir?”hesaid.“Iamatalosstoknowwhatthatbusinesscanpossiblyhe.”
Theunconcealedcuriosity,withwhichhelookedhardinmyfacewhilehespoke,convincedmethatIhadpassedunnoticedbyhimattheOpera.
HehadseenPescafirst,andfromthatmomenttillheleftthetheatrehehadevidentlyseennothingelse.
MynamewouldnecessarilysuggesttohimthatIhadnotcomeintohishousewithotherthanahostilepurposetowardshimself,butheappearedtobeutterlyignorantthusfaroftherealnatureofmyerrand.
“Iamfortunateinfindingyouhereto-night,”Isaid.“Youseemtobeonthepointoftakingajourney?”
“Isyourbusinessconnectedwithmyjourney?”
“Insomedegree.”
“Inwhatdegree?DoyouknowwhereIamgoingto?”
“No.IonlyknowwhyyouareleavingLondon.”
Heslippedbymewiththequicknessofthought,lockedthedoor,andputthekeyinhispocket.
“YouandI,Mr.Hartright,areexcellentlywellacquaintedwithoneanotherbyreputation,”hesaid.
“Didit,byanychance,occurtoyouwhenyoucametothishousethatIwasnotthesortofmanyoucouldtriflewith?”
“Itdidoccurtome,”Ireplied.“AndIhavenotcometotriflewithyou.
Iamhereonamatteroflifeanddeath,andifthatdoorwhichyouhavelockedwasopenatthismoment,nothingyoucouldsayordowouldinducemetopassthroughit.”
Iwalkedfartherintotheroom,andstoodoppositetohimontherugbeforethefireplace.
Hedrewachairinfrontofthedoor,andsatdownonit,withhisleftarmrestingonthetable.
Thecagewiththewhitemicewasclosetohim,andthelittlecreaturesscamperedoutoftheirsleeping-placeashisheavyarmshookthetable,andpeeredathimthroughthegapsinthesmartlypaintedwires
“Onamatteroflifeanddeath,”herepeatedtohimself.“Thosewordsaremoreserious,perhaps,thanyouthink.Whatdoyoumean?”
“WhatIsay.”
Theperspirationbrokeoutthicklyonhisbroadforehead.
Hislefthandstoleovertheedgeofthetable.
Therewasadrawerinit,withalock,andthekeywasinthelock.
Hisfingerandthumbclosedoverthekey,butdidnotturnit.
“SoyouknowwhyIamleavingLondon?”hewenton.“Tellmethereason,ifyouplease.”Heturnedthekey,andunlockedthedrawerashespoke.
“Icandobetterthanthat,”Ireplied.IcanSHOWyouthereason,ifyoulike.”
“Howcanyoushowit?”
“Youhavegotyourcoatoff,”Isaid.“Rolluptheshirt-sleeveonyourleftarm,andyouwillseeitthere.”
ThesamelividleadenchangepassedoverhisfacewhichIhadseenpassoveritatthetheatre.
Thedeadlyglitterinhiseyesshonesteadyandstraightintomine.Hesaidnothing.
Buthislefthandslowlyopenedthetable-drawer,andsoftlyslippedintoit.
Theharshgratingnoiseofsomethingheavythathewasmovingunseentomesoundedforamoment,thenceased.
ThesilencethatfollowedwassointensethatthefainttickingnibbleofthewhitemiceattheirwireswasdistinctlyaudiblewhereIstood.
Mylifehungbyathread,andIknewit.AtthatfinalmomentIthoughtwithHISmind,IfeltwithHISfingers—IwasascertainasifIhadseenitofwhathekepthiddenfrommeinthedrawer.
“Waitalittle,”Isaid.“Youhavegotthedoorlocked—youseeIdon’tmove—youseemyhandsareempty.Waitalittle.Ihavesomethingmoretosay.”
“Youhavesaidenough,”hereplied,withasuddencomposuresounnaturalandsoghastlythatittriedmynervesasnooutbreakofviolencecouldhavetriedthem.
“Iwantonemomentformyownthoughts,ifyouplease.DoyouguesswhatIamthinkingabout?”
“PerhapsIdo.”
“Iamthinking,”heremarkedquietly,“whetherIshalladdtothedisorderinthisroombyscatteringyourbrainsaboutthefireplace.”
IfIhadmovedatthatmoment,Isawinhisfacethathewouldhavedoneit.
“IadviseyoutoreadtwolinesofwritingwhichIhaveaboutme,”Irejoined,“beforeyoufinallydecidethatquestion.”
Theproposalappearedtoexcitehiscuriosity.Henoddedhishead.
ItookPesca’sacknowledgmentofthereceiptofmyletteroutofmypocket-book,handedittohimatarm’slength,andreturnedtomyformerpositioninfrontofthefireplace.
Hereadthelinesaloud:“Yourletterisreceived.IfIdon’thearfromyoubeforethetimeyoumention,Iwillbreakthesealwhentheclockstrikes.”
Anothermaninhispositionwouldhaveneededsomeexplanationofthosewords—theCountfeltnosuchnecessity.
OnereadingofthenoteshowedhimtheprecautionthatIhadtakenasplainlyasifhehadbeenpresentatthetimewhenIadoptedit.
Theexpressionofhisfacechangedontheinstant,andhishandcameoutofthedrawerempty.
“Idon’tlockupmydrawer,Mr.Hartright,”hesaid,“andIdon’tsaythatImaynotscatteryourbrainsaboutthefireplaceyet.
ButIamajustmaneventomyenemy,andIwillacknowledgebeforehandthattheyareclevererbrainsthanIthoughtthem.Cometothepoint,sir!Youwantsomethingofme?”
“Ido,andImeantohaveit.”
“Onconditions?”
“Onnoconditions.”
Hishanddroppedintothedraweragain.
“Bah!wearetravellinginacircle,”hesaid,“andthosecleverbrainsofyoursareindangeragain.
Yourtoneisdeplorablyimprudent,sir—moderateitonthespot!
Theriskofshootingyouontheplacewhereyoustandislesstomethantheriskoflettingyououtofthishouse,exceptonconditionsthatIdictateandapprove.
Youhavenotgotmylamentedfriendtodealwithnow—youarefacetofacewithFosco!
IfthelivesoftwentyMr.Hartrightswerethestepping-stonestomysafety,overallthosestonesIwouldgo,sustainedbymysublimeindifference,self-balancedbymyimpenetrablecalm.Respectme,ifyouloveyourownlife!
Isummonyoutoanswerthreequestionsbeforeyouopenyourlipsagain.
Hearthem—theyarenecessarytothisinterview.Answerthem—theyarenecessarytoME.”
Hehelduponefingerofhisrighthand.“Firstquestion!”hesaid.
“Youcomeherepossessedofinformationwhichmaybetrueormaybefalse—wheredidyougetit?”
“Ideclinetotellyou.”
“Nomatter—Ishallfindout.Ifthatinformationistrue—mindIsay,withthewholeforceofmyresolution,if—youaremakingyourmarketofitherebytreacheryofyourownorbytreacheryofsomeotherman.
Inotethatcircumstanceforfutureuseinmymemory,whichforgetsnothing,andproceed.”Heheldupanotherfinger.“Secondquestion!
Thoselinesyouinvitedmetoreadarewithoutsignature.Whowrotethem?”
“AmanwhomIhaveeveryreasontodependon,andwhomyouhaveeveryreasontofear.”
Myanswerreachedhimtosomepurpose.Hislefthandtrembledaudiblyinthedrawer.
“Howlongdoyougiveme,”heasked,puttinghisthirdquestioninaquietertone,“beforetheclockstrikesandthesealisbroken?”
“Timeenoughforyoutocometomyterms,”Ireplied.
“Givemeaplaineranswer,Mr.Hartright.Whathouristheclocktostrike?”
“Nine,to-morrowmorning.”
“Nine,to-morrowmorning?Yes,yes—yourtrapislaidformebeforeIcangetmypassportregulatedandleaveLondon.Itisnotearlier,Isuppose?
Wewillseeaboutthatpresently—Icankeepyouhostagehere,andbargainwithyoutosendforyourletterbeforeIletyougo.
Inthemeantime,besogoodnextastomentionyourterms.”
“Youshallhearthem.Theyaresimple,andsoonstated.YouknowwhoseinterestsIrepresentincominghere?”
Hesmiledwiththemostsupremecomposure,andcarelesslywavedhisrighthand.
“Iconsenttohazardaguess,”hesaidjeeringly.“Alady’sinterests,ofcourse!”
“MyWife’sinterests.”
Helookedatmewiththefirsthonestexpressionthathadcrossedhisfaceinmypresence—anexpressionofblankamazement.
IcouldseethatIsankinhisestimationasadangerousmanfromthatmoment.
Heshutupthedraweratonce,foldedhisarmsoverhisbreast,andlistenedtomewithasmileofsatiricalattention.
“Youarewellenoughaware,”Iwenton,“ofthecoursewhichmyinquirieshavetakenformanymonthspast,toknowthatanyattempteddenialofplainfactswillbequiteuselessinmypresence.
Youareguiltyofaninfamousconspiracy!
Andthegainofafortuneoftenthousandpoundswasyourmotiveforit.”
Hesaidnothing.Buthisfacebecameovercloudedsuddenlybyaloweringanxiety.
“Keepyourgain,”Isaid.(Hisfacelightenedagainimmediately,andhiseyesopenedonmeinwiderandwiderastonishment.)
“Iamnotheretodisgracemyselfbybargainingformoneywhichhaspassedthroughyourhands,andwhichhasbeenthepriceofavilecrime
“Gently,Mr.Hartright.Yourmoralclap-trapshaveanexcellenteffectinEngland—keepthemforyourselfandyourowncountrymen,ifyouplease.
ThetenthousandpoundswasalegacylefttomyexcellentwifebythelateMr.Fairlie.
Placetheaffaironthosegrounds,andIwilldiscussitifyoulike.
Toamanofmysentiments,however,thesubjectisdeplorablysordid.Iprefertopassitover.
Iinviteyoutoresumethediscussionofyourterms.Whatdoyoudemand?”
“Inthefirstplace,Idemandafullconfessionoftheconspiracy,writtenandsignedinmypresencebyyourself.”
Heraisedhisfingeragain.“One!”hesaid,checkingmeoffwiththesteadyattentionofapracticalman.
“Inthesecondplace,Idemandaplainproof,whichdoesnotdependonyourpersonalasseveration,ofthedateatwhichmywifeleftBlackwaterParkandtravelledtoLondon.”
“So!so!youcanlayyourfinger,Isee,ontheweakplace,”heremarkedcomposedly.“Anymore?”
“Atpresent,nomore.”
“Good!youhavementionedyourterms,nowlistentomine.
Theresponsibilitytomyselfofadmittingwhatyouarepleasedtocallthe‘conspiracy’isless,perhaps,uponthewhole,thantheresponsibilityoflayingyoudeadonthathearthrug.
LetussaythatImeetyourproposal—onmyownconditions.
Thestatementyoudemandofmeshallbewritten,andtheplainproofshallbeproduced.
Youcallaletterfrommylatelamentedfriendinformingmeofthedayandhourofhiswife’sarrivalinLondon,written,signed,anddatedbyhimself,aproof,Isuppose?Icangiveyouthis.
IcanalsosendyoutothemanofwhomIhiredthecarriagetofetchmyvisitorfromtherailway,onthedaywhenshearrived—hisorder-bookmayhelpyoutoyourdate,evenifhiscoachmanwhodrovemeprovestobeofnouse.
ThesethingsIcando,andwilldo,onconditions.Irecitethem.Firstcondition!
MadameFoscoandIleavethishousewhenandhowweplease,withoutinterferenceofanykindonyourpart.Secondcondition!
Youwaithere,incompanywithme,toseemyagent,whoiscomingatseveno’clockinthemorningtoregulatemyaffairs.
Yougivemyagentawrittenordertothemanwhohasgotyoursealedlettertoresignhispossessionofit.
Youwaitheretillmyagentplacesthatletterunopenedinmyhands,andyouthenallowmeoneclearhalf-hourtoleavethehouse—afterwhichyouresumeyourownfreedomofactionandgowhereyouplease.Thirdcondition!
Yougivemethesatisfactionofagentlemanforyourintrusionintomyprivateaffairs,andforthelanguageyouhaveallowedyourselftousetomeatthisconference.
Thetimeandplace,abroad,tobefixedinaletterfrommyhandwhenIamsafeontheContinent,andthatlettertocontainastripofpapermeasuringaccuratelythelengthofmysword.Thosearemyterms.
Informmeifyouacceptthem—YesorNo.”
Theextraordinarymixtureofpromptdecision,far-sightedcunning,andmountebankbravadointhisspeech,staggeredmeforamoment—andonlyforamoment.
Theonequestiontoconsiderwas,whetherIwasjustifiedornotinpossessingmyselfofthemeansofestablishingLaura’sidentityatthecostofallowingthescoundrelwhohadrobbedherofittoescapemewithimpunity.
Iknewthatthemotiveofsecuringthejustrecognitionofmywifeinthebirthplacefromwhichshehadbeendrivenoutasanimpostor,andofpubliclyerasingtheliethatstillprofanedhermother’stombstone,wasfarpurer,initsfreedomfromalltaintofevilpassion,thanthevindictivemotivewhichhadmingleditselfwithmypurposefromthefirst.
AndyetIcannothonestlysaythatmyownmoralconvictionswerestrongenoughtodecidethestruggleinmebythemselves.
TheywerehelpedbymyremembranceofSirPercival’sdeath.
Howawfully,atthelastmoment,hadtheworkingoftheretributionTHEREbeensnatchedfrommyfeeblehands!
WhatrighthadItodecide,inmypoormortalignoranceofthefuture,thatthisman,too,mustescapewithimpunitybecauseheescapedME?
Ithoughtofthesethings—perhapswiththesuperstitioninherentinmynature,perhapswithasenseworthierofmethansuperstition.
Itwashard,whenIhadfastenedmyholdonhimatlast,toloosenitagainofmyownaccord—butIforcedmyselftomakethesacrifice.
Inplainerwords,IdeterminedtobeguidedbytheonehighermotiveofwhichIwascertain,themotiveofservingthecauseofLauraandthecauseofTruth.
“Iacceptyourconditions,”Isaid.“Withonereservationonmypart.”
“Whatreservationmaythatbe?”heasked.
“Itreferstothesealedletter,”Ianswered.“Irequireyoutodestroyitunopenedinmypresenceassoonasitisplacedinyourhands.”
MyobjectinmakingthisstipulationwassimplytopreventhimfromcarryingawaywrittenevidenceofthenatureofmycommunicationwithPesca.
Thefactofmycommunicationhewouldnecessarilydiscover,whenIgavetheaddresstohisagentinthemorning.
Buthecouldmakenouseofitonhisownunsupportedtestimony—evenifhereallyventuredtotrytheexperiment—whichneedexciteinmetheslightestapprehensiononPesca’saccount.
“Igrantyourreservation,”hereplied,afterconsideringthequestiongravelyforaminuteortwo.“Itisnotworthdispute—thelettershallbedestroyedwhenitcomesintomyhands.”
Herose,ashespoke,fromthechairinwhichhehadbeensittingoppositetomeuptothistime.
Withoneeffortheappearedtofreehismindfromthewholepressureonitoftheinterviewbetweenusthusfar.“Ouf!”
hecried,stretchinghisarmsluxuriously,“theskirmishwashotwhileitlasted.Takeaseat,Mr.Hartright.
Wemeetasmortalenemieshere-after—letus,likegallantgentlemen,exchangepoliteattentionsinthemeantime.
Permitmetotakethelibertyofcallingformywife.”
Heunlockedandopenedthedoor.“Eleanor!”hecalledoutinhisdeepvoice.
Theladyoftheviperishfacecamein“MadameFosco—Mr.Hartright,”saidtheCount,introducinguswitheasydignity.
“Myangel,”hewenton,addressinghiswife,“willyourlaboursofpackingupallowyoutimetomakemesomenicestrongcoffee?
IhavewritingbusinesstotransactwithMr.Hartright—andIrequirethefullpossessionofmyintelligencetodojusticetomyself.”
MadameFoscobowedherheadtwice—oncesternlytome,oncesubmissivelytoherhusband,andglidedoutoftheroom.
TheCountwalkedtoawriting-tablenearthewindow,openedhisdesk,andtookfromitseveralquiresofpaperandabundleofquillpens.
Hescatteredthepensaboutthetable,sothattheymightliereadyinalldirectionstobetakenupwhenwanted,andthencutthepaperintoaheapofnarrowslips,oftheformusedbyprofessionalwritersforthepress.
“Ishallmakethisaremarkabledocument,”hesaid,lookingatmeoverhisshoulder.
“Habitsofliterarycompositionareperfectlyfamiliartome.
Oneoftherarestofalltheintellectualaccomplishmentsthatamancanpossessisthegrandfacultyofarranginghisideas.Immenseprivilege!Ipossessit.Doyou?”
Hemarchedbackwardsandforwardsintheroom,untilthecoffeeappeared,hummingtohimself,andmarkingtheplacesatwhichobstaclesoccurredinthearrangementofhisideas,bystrikinghisforeheadfromtimetotimewiththepalmofhishand.
TheenormousaudacitywithwhichheseizedonthesituationinwhichIplacedhim,andmadeitthepedestalonwhichhisvanitymountedfortheonecherishedpurposeofself-display,masteredmyastonishmentbymainforce.
SincerelyasIloathedtheman,theprodigiousstrengthofhischaracter,eveninitsmosttrivialaspects,impressedmeinspiteofmyself.
ThecoffeewasbroughtinbyMadameFosco.
Hekissedherhandingratefulacknowledgment,andescortedhertothedoor;returned,pouredoutacupofcoffeeforhimself,andtookittothewriting-table.
“MayIofferyousomecoffee,Mr.Hartright?”hesaid,beforehesatdown.
Ideclined.
“What!youthinkIshallpoisonyou?”hesaidgaily.
“TheEnglishintellectissound,sofarasitgoes,”hecontinued,seatinghimselfatthetable;“butithasonegravedefect—itisalwayscautiousinthewrongplace.”
Hedippedhispenintheink,placedthefirstslipofpaperbeforehimwithathumpofhishandonthedesk,clearedhisthroat,andbegan.
Hewrotewithgreatnoiseandrapidity,insolargeandboldahand,andwithsuchwidespacesbetweenthelines,thathereachedthebottomoftheslipinnotmorethantwominutescertainlyfromthetimewhenhestartedatthetop.
Eachslipashefinisheditwaspaged,andtossedoverhisshoulderoutofhiswayonthefloor.
Whenhisfirstpenwaswornout,THATwentoverhisshouldertoo,andhepouncedonasecondfromthesupplyscatteredaboutthetable.
Slipafterslip,bydozens,byfifties,byhundreds,flewoverhisshouldersoneithersideofhimtillhehadsnowedhimselfupinpaperallroundhischair.
Hourafterhourpassed—andthereIsatwatching,therehesatwriting.
Heneverstopped,excepttosiphiscoffee,andwhenthatwasexhausted,tosmackhisforeheadfromtimetotime.
Oneo’clockstruck,two,three,four—andstilltheslipsflewaboutallroundhim;stilltheuntiringpenscrapeditswayceaselesslyfromtoptobottomofthepage,stillthewhitechaosofpaperrosehigherandhigherallroundhischair.
Atfouro’clockIheardasuddensplutterofthepen,indicativeoftheflourishwithwhichhesignedhisname.“Bravo!”
hecried,springingtohisfeetwiththeactivityofayoungman,andlookingmestraightinthefacewithasmileofsuperbtriumph.
“Done,Mr.HartrightI“heannouncedwithaself-renovatingthumpofhisfistonhisbroadbreast.
“Done,tomyownprofoundsatisfaction—toYOURprofoundastonishment,whenyoureadwhatIhavewritten.
Thesubjectisexhausted:theman—Fosco—isnot.
Iproceedtothearrangementofmyslips—totherevisionofmyslips—tothereadingofmyslips—addressedemphaticallytoyourprivateear.Fouro’clockhasjuststruck.Good!
Arrangement,revision,reading,fromfourtofive.
Shortsnoozeofrestorationformyselffromfivetosix.Finalpreparationsfromsixtoseven.
Affairofagentandsealedletterfromseventoeight.Ateight,enroute.Beholdtheprogramme!”
Hesatdowncross-leggedontheflooramonghispapers,strungthemtogetherwithabodkinandapieceofstring—revisedthem,wroteallthetitlesandhonoursbywhichhewaspersonallydistinguishedattheheadofthefirstpage,andthenreadthemanuscripttomewithloudtheatricalemphasisandprofusetheatricalgesticulation.
Thereaderwillhaveanopportunity,erelong,offorminghisownopinionofthedocument.
Itwillbesufficienttomentionherethatitansweredmypurpose.
Henextwrotemetheaddressofthepersonfromwhomhehadhiredthefly,andhandedmeSirPercival’sletter.
ItwasdatedfromHampshireonthe25thofJuly,anditannouncedthejourneyof“LadyGlyde”toLondononthe26th.
Thus,ontheveryday(the25th)whenthedoctor’scertificatedeclaredthatshehaddiedinSt.John’sWood,shewasalive,bySirPercival’sownshowing,atBlackwater—and,onthedayafter,shewastotakeajourney!
Whentheproofofthatjourneywasobtainedfromtheflyman,theevidencewouldbecomplete.
“Aquarter-pastfive,”saidtheCount,lookingathiswatch.“Timeformyrestorativesnooze.
IpersonallyresembleNapoleontheGreat,asyoumayhaveremarked,Mr.Hartright—Ialsoresemblethatimmortalmaninmypowerofcommandingsleepatwill.Excusemeonemoment.
IwillsummonMadameFosco,tokeepyoufromfeelingdull.”
Knowingaswellashedid,thathewassummoningMadameFoscotoensuremynotleavingthehousewhilehewasasleep,Imadenoreply,andoccupiedmyselfintyingupthepaperswhichhehadplacedinmypossession.
Theladycamein,cool,pale,andvenomousasever.
“AmuseMr.Hartright,myangel,”saidtheCount.
Heplacedachairforher,kissedherhandforthesecondtime,withdrewtoasofa,and,inthreeminutes,wasaspeacefullyandhappilyasleepasthemostvirtuousmaninexistence.
MadameFoscotookabookfromthetable,satdown,andlookedatme,withthesteadyvindictivemaliceofawomanwhoneverforgotandneverforgave.
“Ihavebeenlisteningtoyourconversationwithmyhusband,”shesaid.“IfIhadbeeninHISplace—Iwouldhavelaidyoudeadonthehearthrug.”
Withthosewordssheopenedherbook,andneverlookedatmeorspoketomefromthattimetillthetimewhenherhusbandwoke.
Heopenedhiseyesandrosefromthesofa,accuratelytoanhourfromthetimewhenhehadgonetosleep.
“Ifeelinfinitelyrefreshed,”heremarked.
“Eleanor,mygoodwife,areyouallreadyupstairs?Thatiswell.
Mylittlepackingherecanbecompletedintenminutes—mytravelling-dressassumedintenminutesmore.Whatremainsbeforetheagentcomes?”
Helookedabouttheroom,andnoticedthecagewithhiswhitemiceinit.“Ah!”
hecriedpiteously,“alastlacerationofmysympathiesstillremains.Myinnocentpets!mylittlecherishedchildren!whatamItodowiththem?
Forthepresentwearesettlednowhere;forthepresentwetravelincessantly—thelessbaggagewecarrythebetterforourselves.
Mycockatoo,mycanaries,andmylittlemice—whowillcherishthemwhentheirgoodPapaisgone?”
Hewalkedabouttheroomdeepinthought.
Hehadnotbeenatalltroubledaboutwritinghisconfession,buthewasvisiblyperplexedanddistressedaboutthefarmoreimportantquestionofthedisposalofhispets.
Afterlongconsiderationhesuddenlysatdownagainatthewriting-table.
“Anidea!”heexclaimed.
“IwilloffermycanariesandmycockatootothisvastMetropolis—myagentshallpresenttheminmynametotheZoologicalGardensofLondon.
TheDocumentthatdescribesthemshallbedrawnoutonthespot.”
Hebegantowrite,repeatingthewordsastheyflowedfromhispen.
“Numberone.Cockatoooftranscendentplumage:attraction,ofhimself,toallvisitorsoftaste.Numbertwo.
Canariesofunrivalledvivacityandintelligence:worthyofthegardenofEden,worthyalsoofthegardenintheRegent’sPark.HomagetoBritishZoology.OfferedbyFosco.”
Thepensplutteredagain,andtheflourishwasattachedtohissignature.
“Count!youhavenotincludedthemice,”saidMadameFosco
Heleftthetable,tookherhand,andplaceditonhisheart.
“Allhumanresolution,Eleanor,”hesaidsolemnly,“hasitslimits.
MYlimitsareinscribedonthatDocument.Icannotpartwithmywhitemice.
Bearwithme,myangel,andremovethemtotheirtravellingcageupstairs.”
“Admirabletenderness!”saidMadameFosco,admiringherhusband,withalastviperishlookinmydirection.Shetookupthecagecarefully,andlefttheroom.
TheCountlookedathiswatch.Inspiteofhisresoluteassumptionofcomposure,hewasgettinganxiousfortheagent’sarrival.
Thecandleshadlongsincebeenextinguished,andthesunlightofthenewmorningpouredintotheroom.
Itwasnottillfiveminutespastseventhatthegatebellrang,andtheagentmadehisappearance.Hewasaforeignerwithadarkbeard.
“Mr.Hartright—MonsieurRubelle,”saidtheCount,introducingus.
Hetooktheagent(aforeignspy,ineverylineofhisface,ifevertherewasoneyet)intoacorneroftheroom,whisperedsomedirectionstohim,andthenleftustogether.
“MonsieurRubelle,”assoonaswewerealone,suggestedwithgreatpolitenessthatIshouldfavourhimwithhisinstructions.
IwrotetwolinestoPesca,authorisinghimtodelivermysealedletter“tothebearer,”directedthenote,andhandedittoMonsieurRubelle.
Theagentwaitedwithmetillhisemployerreturned,equippedintravellingcostume.
TheCountexaminedtheaddressofmyletterbeforehedismissedtheagent.“Ithoughtso!”
hesaid,turningonmewithadarklook,andalteringagaininhismannerfromthatmoment.
Hecompletedhispacking,andthensatconsultingatravellingmap,makingentriesinhispocket-book,andlookingeverynowandthenimpatientlyathiswatch.
Notanotherword,addressedtomyself,passedhislips.
Thenearapproachofthehourforhisdeparture,andtheproofhehadseenofthecommunicationestablishedbetweenPescaandmyself,hadplainlyrecalledhiswholeattentiontothemeasuresthatwerenecessaryforsecuringhisescape.
Alittlebeforeeighto’clock,MonsieurRubellecamebackwithmyunopenedletterinhishand.
TheCountlookedcarefullyatthesuperscriptionandtheseal,litacandle,andburnttheletter.
“Iperformmypromise,”hesaid,“butthismatter,Mr.Hartright,shallnotendhere.”
Theagenthadkeptatthedoorthecabinwhichhehadreturned.
Heandthemaid-servantnowbusiedthemselvesinremovingtheluggage.
MadameFoscocamedownstairs,thicklyveiled,withthetravellingcageofthewhitemiceinherhand.
Sheneitherspoketomenorlookedtowardsme.Herhusbandescortedhertothecab.
“Followmeasfarasthepassage,”hewhisperedinmyear;“Imaywanttospeaktoyouatthelastmoment.”
Iwentouttothedoor,theagentstandingbelowmeinthefrontgarden.TheCountcamebackalone,anddrewmeafewstepsinsidethepassage.
“RemembertheThirdcondition!”hewhispered.
“Youshallhearfromme,Mr.Hartright—Imayclaimfromyouthesatisfactionofagentlemansoonerthanyouthinkfor.”
HecaughtmyhandbeforeIwasawareofhim,andwrungithard—thenturnedtothedoor,stopped,andcamebacktomeagain.
“Onewordmore,”hesaidconfidentially.
“WhenIlastsawMissHalcombe,shelookedthinandill.
Iamanxiousaboutthatadmirablewoman.Takecareofher,sir!
Withmyhandonmyheart,Isolemnlyimploreyou,takecareofMissHalcombe!”
Thosewerethelastwordshesaidtomebeforehesqueezedhishugebodyintothecabanddroveoff.
TheagentandIwaitedatthedoorafewmomentslookingafterhim.
Whilewewerestandingtogether,asecondcabappearedfromaturningalittlewaydowntheroad.
ItfollowedthedirectionpreviouslytakenbytheCount’scab,andasitpassedthehouseandtheopengardengate,apersoninsidelookedatusoutofthewindow.ThestrangerattheOperaagain!
—theforeignerwithascaronhisleftcheek.
“Youwaitherewithme,sir,forhalfanhourmore!”saidMonsieurRubelle.
“Ido.”
Wereturnedtothesitting-room.Iwasinnohumourtospeaktotheagent,ortoallowhimtospeaktome.
ItookoutthepaperswhichtheCounthadplacedinmyhands,andreadtheterriblestoryoftheconspiracytoldbythemanwhohadplannedandperpetratedit.
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