CHAPTER XXXV. MR. PLAYMORE'S PROPHECY.
WE reached London between eight and nine in the evening. Strictlymethodical in all his habits, Benjamin had telegraphed to hishousekeeper, from Edinburgh, to have supper ready or us by ten o'clock,and to send the cabman whom he always employed to meet us at thestation.
Arriving at the villa, we were obliged to wait for a moment to let apony-chaise get by us before we could draw up at Benjamin's door. Thechaise passed very slowly, driven by a rough-looking man, with a pipein his mouth. But for the man, I might have doubted whether the pony wasquite a stranger to me. As things were, I thought no more of the matter.
Benjamin's respectable old housekeeper opened the garden gate, andstartled me by bursting into a devout ejaculation of gratitude at thesight of her master. "The Lord be praised, sir!" she cried; "I thoughtyou would never come back!"
"Anything wrong?" asked Benjamin, in his own impenetrably quiet way.
The housekeeper trembled at the question, and answered in theseenigmatical words:
"My mind's upset, sir; and whether things are wrong or whether thingsare right is more than I can say. Hours ago, a strange man came in andasked"--she stopped, as if she were completely bewildered--looked fora moment vacantly at her master--and suddenly addressed herself to me."And asked," she proceeded, "when _you_ was expected back, ma'am. I toldhim what my master had telegraphed, and the man says upon that, 'Wait abit,' he says; 'I'm coming back.' He came back in a minute or less; andhe carried a Thing in his arms which curdled my blood--it did!--and setme shaking from the crown of my head to the sole of my foot. I know Iought to have stopped it; but I couldn't stand upon my legs, much lessput the man out of the house. In he went, without '_with_ your leave,'or '_by_ your leave,' Mr. Benjamin, sir--in he went, with the Thing inhis arms, straight through to your library. And there It has been allthese hours. And there It is now. I've spoken to the police; but theywouldn't interfere; and what to do next is more than my poor head cantell. Don't you go in by yourself, ma'am! You'll be frightened out ofyour wits--you will!"
I persisted in entering the house, for all that. Aided by the pony, Ieasily solved the mystery of the housekeeper's otherwise unintelligiblenarrative. Passing through the dining-room (where the supper-table wasalready laid for us), I looked through the half-opened library door.
Yes, there was Miserrimus Dexter, arrayed in his pink jacket, fastasleep in Benjamin's favorite arm-chair! No coverlet hid his horribledeformity. Nothing was sacrificed to conventional ideas of proprietyin his extraordinary dress. I could hardly wonder that the poor oldhousekeeper trembled from head to foot when she spoke of him.
"Valeria," said Benjamin, pointing to the Portent in the chair. "Whichis it--an Indian idol, or a man?"
I have already described Miserrimus Dexter as possessing the sensitiveear of a dog: he now allowed that he also slept the light sleep of adog. Quietly as Benjamin had spoken, the strange voice aroused him onthe instant. He rubbed his eyes, and smiled as innocently as a wakingchild.
"How do you do, Mrs. Valeria?" he said. "I have had a nice little sleep.You don't know how happy I am to see you again. Who is this?"
He rubbed his eyes once more! and looked at Benjamin. Not knowing whatelse to do in this extraordinary emergency, I presented my visitor tothe master of the house.
"Excuse my getting up, sir," said Miserrimus Dexter. "I can't get up--Ihave no legs. You look as if you thought I was occupying your chair? IfI am committing an intrusion, be so good as to put your umbrella underme, and give me a jerk. I shall fall on my hands, and I shan't beoffended with you. I will submit to a tumble and a scolding--but pleasedon't break my heart by sending me away. That beautiful woman there canbe very cruel sometimes, sir, when the fit takes her. She went away whenI stood in the sorest need of a little talk with her--she went away, andleft me to my loneliness and my suspense. I am a poor deformed wretch,with a warm heart, and, perhaps, an insatiable curiosity as well.Insatiable curiosity (have you ever felt it?) is a curse. I boreit until my brains began to boil in my head; and then I sent for mygardener, and made him drive me here. I like being here. The air ofyour library soothes me; the sight of Mrs. Valeria is balm to my woundedheart. She has something to tell me--something that I am dying to hear.If she is not too tired after her journey, and if you will let her tellit, I promise to have myself taken away when she has done. Dear Mr.Benjamin, you look like the refuge of the afflicted. I am afflicted.Shake hands like a good Christian, and take me in."
He held out his hand. His soft blue eyes melted into an expression ofpiteous entreaty. Completely stupefied by the amazing harangue of whichhe had been made the object, Benjamin took the offered hand, withthe air of a man in a dream. "I hope I see you well, sir," he said,mechanically--and then looked around at me, to know what he was to donext.
"I understand Mr. Dexter," I whispered. "Leave him to me."
Benjamin stole a last bewildered look at the object in the chair; bowedto it, with the instinct of politeness which never failed him; and(still with the air of a man in a dream) withdrew into the next room.
Left together, we looked at each other, for the first moment, insilence.
Whether I unconsciously drew on that inexhaustible store of indulgencewhich a woman always keeps in reserve for a man who owns that he hasneed of her, or whether, resenting as I did Mr. Playmore's horriblesuspicion of him, my heart was especially accessible to feelings ofcompassion in his unhappy case, I cannot tell. I only know that I pitiedMiserrimus Dexter at that moment as I had never pitied him yet; and thatI spared him the reproof which I should certainly have administeredto any other man who had taken the liberty of establishing himself,uninvited, in Benjamin's house.
He was the first to speak.
"Lady Clarinda has destroyed your confidence in me!" he began, wildly.
"Lady Clarinda has done nothing of the sort," I replied. "She has notattempted to influence my opinion. I was really obliged to leave London,as I told you."
He sighed, and closed his eyes contentedly, as if I had relieved him ofa heavy weight of anxiety.
"Be merciful to me," he said, "and tell me something more. I have beenso miserable in your absence." He suddenly opened his eyes again, andlooked at me with an appearance of the greatest interest. "Are you verymuch fatigued by traveling?" he proceeded. "I am hungry for news of whathappened at the Major's dinner party. Is it cruel of me to tell you so,when you have not rested after your journey? Only one question to-night,and I will leave the rest till to-morrow. What did Lady Clarinda sayabout Mrs. Beauly? All that you wanted to hear?"
"All, and more," I answered.
"What? what? what?" he cried wild with impatience in a moment.
Mr. Playmore's last prophetic words were vividly present to my mind. Hehad declared, in the most positive manner, that Dexter would persist inmisleading me, and would show no signs of astonishment when I repeatedwhat Lady Clarinda had told me of Mrs. Beauly. I resolved to putthe lawyer's prophecy--so far as the question of astonishment wasconcerned--to the sharpest attainable test. I said not a word toMiserrimus Dexter in the way of preface or preparation: I burst on himwith my news as abruptly as possible.
"The person you saw in the corridor was not Mrs. Beauly," I said. "Itwas the maid, dressed in her mistress's cloak and hat. Mrs. Beaulyherself was not in the house at all. Mrs. Beauly herself was dancing ata masked ball in Edinburgh. There is what the maid told Lady Clarinda;and there is what Lady Clarinda told _me._"
In the absorbing interest of the moment, I poured out those words oneafter another as fast as they would pass my lips. Miserrimus Dextercompletely falsified the lawyer's prediction. He shuddered under theshock. His eyes opened wide with amazement. "Say it again!" he cried. "Ican't take it all in at once. You stun me."
I was more than contented with this result--I triumphed in my victory.For once, I had really some reason to feel satisfied with myself. Ihad taken the Christian and merciful side in my discussion with Mr.Playmore; and I had won my reward. I cou
ld sit in the same room withMiserrimus Dexter, and feel the blessed conviction that I was notbreathing the same air with a poisoner. Was it not worth the visit toEdinburgh to have made sure of that?
In repeating, at his own desire, what I had already said to him, I tookcare to add the details which made Lady Clarinda's narrative coherentand credible. He listened throughout with breathless attention--here andthere repeating the words after me, to impress them the more surely andthe more deeply on his mind.
"What is to be said? what is to be done?" he asked, with a look of blankdespair. "I can't disbelieve it. From first to last, strange as it is,it sounds true."
(How would Mr. Playmore have felt if he had heard those words? I didhim the justice to believe that he would have felt heartily ashamed ofhimself.)
"There is nothing to be said," I rejoined, "except that Mrs. Beauly isinnocent, and that you and I have done her a grievous wrong. Don't youagree with me?"
"I entirely agree with you," he answered, without an instant'shesitation. "Mrs. Beauly is an innocent woman. The defense at the Trialwas the right defense after all."
He folded his arms complacently; he looked perfectly satisfied to leavethe matter there.
I was not of his mind. To my own amazement, I now found myself the leastreasonable person of the two!
Miserrimus Dexter (to use the popular phrase) had given me more than Ihad bargained for. He had not only done all that I had anticipatedin the way of falsifying Mr. Playmore's prediction--he had actuallyadvanced beyond my limits. I could go the length of recognizing Mrs.Beauly's innocence; but at that point I stopped. If the Defense atthe Trial were the right defense, farewell to all hope of asserting myhusband's innocence. I held to that hope as I held to my love and mylife.
"Speak for yourself," I said. "My opinion of the Defense remainsunchanged."
He started, and knit his brows as if I had disappointed and displeasedhim.
"Does that mean that you are determined to go on?"
"It does."
He was downright angry with me. He cast his customary politeness to thewinds.
"Absurd! impossible!" he cried, contemptuously. "You have yourselfdeclared that we wronged an innocent woman when we suspected Mrs.Beauly. Is there any one else whom we can suspect? It is ridiculous toask the question. There is no alternative left but to accept the factsas they are, and to stir no further in the matter of the poisoning atGleninch. It is childish to dispute plain conclusions. You must giveup."
"You may be angry with me if you will, Mr. Dexter. Neither your angernor your arguments will make me give up."
He controlled himself by an effort--he was quiet and polite again whenhe next spoke to me.
"Very well. Pardon me for a moment if I absorb myself in my ownthoughts. I want to do something which I have not done yet."
"What may that be, Mr. Dexter?"
"I am going to put myself into Mrs. Beauly's skin, and to think withMrs. Beauly's mind. Give me a minute. Thank you."
What did he mean? what new transformation of him was passing before myeyes? Was there ever such a puzzle of a man as this? Who that saw himnow, intently pursuing his new train of thought, would have recognizedhim as the childish creature who had awoke so innocently, and hadastonished Benjamin by the infantine nonsense which he talked? Itis said, and said truly, that there are many sides to every humancharacter. Dexter's many sides were developing themselves at such arapid rate of progress that they were already beyond my counting.
He lifted his head, and fixed a look of keen inquiry on me.
"I have come out of Mrs. Beauly's skin," he announced. "And I havearrived at this result: We are two impetuous people; and we have been alittle hasty in rushing at a conclusion."
He stopped. I said nothing. Was the shadow of a doubt of him beginningto rise in my mind? I waited, and listened.
"I am as fully satisfied as ever of the truth of what Lady Clarinda toldyou," he proceeded. "But I see, on consideration, what I failed to see atthe time. The story admits of two interpretations--one on the surface,and another under the surface. I look under the surface, in yourinterests; and I say, it is just possible that Mrs. Beauly may have beencunning enough to forestall suspicion, and to set up an Alibi."
I am ashamed to own that I did not understand what he meant by the lastword--Alibi. He saw that I was not following him, and spoke out moreplainly.
"Was the maid something more than her mistress's passive accomplice?"he said. "Was she the Hand that her mistress used? Was she on her way togive the first dose of poison when she passed me in this corridor? DidMrs. Beauly spend the night in Edinburgh--so as to have her defenseready, if suspicion fell upon her?"
My shadowy doubt of him became substantial doubt when I heard that. HadI absolved him a little too readily? Was he really trying to renew mysuspicions of Mrs. Beauly, as Mr. Playmore had foretold? This time I wasobliged to answer him. In doing so, I unconsciously employed one of thephrases which the lawyer had used to me during my first interview withhim.
"That sounds rather far-fetched, Mr. Dexter," I said.
To my relief, he made no attempt to defend the new view that he hadadvanced.
"It is far-fetched," he admitted. "When I said it was justpossible--though I didn't claim much for my idea--I said more for itperhaps than it deserved. Dismiss my view as ridiculous; what are you todo next? If Mrs. Beauly is not the poisoner (either by herself or by hermaid), who is? She is innocent, and Eustace is innocent. Where is theother person whom you can suspect? Have _I_ poisoned her?" he cried,with his eyes flashing, and his voice rising to its highest notes. "Doyou, does anybody, suspect Me? I loved her; I adored her; I have neverbeen the same man since her death. Hush! I will trust you with asecret. (Don't tell your husband; it might be the destruction of ourfriendship.) I would have married her, before she met with Eustace,if she would have taken me. When the doctors told me she had diedpoisoned--ask Doctor Jerome what I suffered; _he_ can tell you! Allthrough that horrible night I was awake; watching my opportunity until Ifound my way to her. I got into the room, and took my last leave of thecold remains of the angel whom I loved. I cried over her. I kissed her.for the first and last time. I stole one little lock of her hair. I haveworn it ever since; I have kissed it night and day. Oh, God! the roomcomes back to me! the dead face comes back to me! Look! look!"
He tore from its place of concealment in his bosom a little locket,fastened by a ribbon around his neck. He threw it to me where I sat, andburst into a passion of tears.
A man in my place might have known what to do. Being only a woman, Iyielded to the compassionate impulse of the moment.
I got up and crossed the room to him. I gave him back his locket, andput my hand, without knowing what I was about, on the poor wretch'sshoulder. "I am incapable of suspecting you, Mr. Dexter," I said,gently. "No such idea ever entered my head. I pity you from the bottomof my heart."
He caught my hand in his, and devoured it with kisses. His lips burnedme like fire. He twisted himself suddenly in the chair, and wound hisarm around my waist. In the terror and indignation of the moment, vainlystruggling with him, I cried out for help.
The door opened, and Benjamin appeared on the threshold.
Dexter let go his hold of me.
I ran to Benjamin, and prevented him from advancing into the room. Inall my long experience of my fatherly old friend I had never seenhim really angry yet. I saw him more than angry now. He was pale--thepatient, gentle old man was pale with rage! I held him at the door withall my strength.
"You can't lay your hand on a cripple," I said. Send for the man outsideto take him a way.
I drew Benjamin out of the room, and closed and locked the librarydoor. The housekeeper was in the dining-room. I sent her out to call thedriver of the pony-chaise into the house.
The man came in--the rough man whom I had noticed when we wereapproaching the garden gate. Benjamin opened the library door in sternsilence. It was perhaps unworthy of me, but I could _not_ resist thetemptation to loo
k in.
Miserrimus Dexter had sunk down in the chair. The rough man lifted hismaster with a gentleness that surprised me. "Hide my face," I heardDexter say to him, in broken tones. He opened his coarse pilot-jacket,and hid his master's head under it, and so went silently out--with thedeformed creature held to his bosom, like a woman sheltering her child.
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