CHAPTER XXXIV
AFTER TWENTY YEARS
'How I reached the open air I cannot tell you,--I do not know. I have aconfused recollection of rushing through vaulted passages, throughendless corridors, of trampling over people who tried to arrest mypassage,--and the rest is blank.
'When I again came to myself I was lying in the house of an Americanmissionary named Clements. I had been found, at early dawn, starknaked, in a Cairo street, and picked up for dead. Judging fromappearances I must have wandered for miles, all through the night.Whence I had come, or whither I was going, none could tell,--I couldnot tell myself. For weeks I hovered between life and death. Thekindness of Mr and Mrs Clements was not to be measured by words. I wasbrought to their house a penniless, helpless, battered stranger, andthey gave me all they had to offer, without money and withoutprice,--with no expectation of an earthly reward. Let no one pretendthat there is no Christian charity under the sun. The debt I owed thatman and woman I was never able to repay. Before I was properly myselfagain, and in a position to offer some adequate testimony of thegratitude I felt, Mrs Clements was dead, drowned during an excursion onthe Nile, and her husband had departed on a missionary expedition intoCentral Africa, from which he never returned.
'Although, in a measure, my physical health returned, for months afterI had left the roof of my hospitable hosts, I was in a state ofsemi-imbecility. I suffered from a species of aphasia. For daystogether I was speechless, and could remember nothing,--not even my ownname. And, when that stage had passed, and I began to move more freelyamong my fellows, for years I was but a wreck of my former self. I wasvisited, at all hours of the day and night, by frightful--I know notwhether to call them visions, they were real enough to me, but sincethey were visible to no one but myself, perhaps that is the word whichbest describes them. Their presence invariably plunged me into a stateof abject terror, against which I was unable to even make a show offighting. To such an extent did they embitter my existence, that Ivoluntarily placed myself under the treatment of an expert in mentalpathology. For a considerable period of time I was under his constantsupervision, but the visitations were as inexplicable to him as theywere to me.
'By degrees, however, they became rarer and rarer, until at last Iflattered myself that I had once more become as other men. After aninterval, to make sure, I devoted myself to politics. Thenceforward Ihave lived, as they phrase it, in the public eye. Private life, in anypeculiar sense of the term, I have had none.'
Mr Lessingham ceased. His tale was not uninteresting, and, to say theleast of it, was curious. But I still was at a loss to understand whatit had to do with me, or what was the purport of his presence in myroom. Since he remained silent, as if the matter, so far as he wasconcerned, was at an end, I told him so.
'I presume, Mr Lessingham, that all this is but a prelude to the play.At present I do not see where it is that I come in.'
Still for some seconds he was silent. When he spoke his voice was graveand sombre, as if he were burdened by a weight of woe.
'Unfortunately, as you put it, all this has been but a prelude to theplay. Were it not so I should not now stand in such pressing want ofthe services of a confidential agent,--that is, of an experienced manof the world, who has been endowed by nature with phenomenal perceptivefaculties, and in whose capacity and honour I can place the completestconfidence.'
I smiled,--the compliment was a pointed one.
'I hope your estimate of me is not too high.'
'I hope not,--for my sake, as well as for your own. I have heard greatthings of you. If ever man stood in need of all that human skill andacumen can do for him, I certainly am he.'
His words aroused my curiosity. I was conscious of feeling moreinterested than heretofore.
'I will do my best for you. Man can do no more. Only give my best atrial.'
'I will. At once.'
He looked at me long and earnestly. Then, leaning forward, he said,lowering his voice perhaps unconsciously,
'The fact is, Mr Champnell, that quite recently events have happenedwhich threaten to bridge the chasm of twenty years, and to place meface to face with that plague spot of the past. At this moment I standin imminent peril of becoming again the wretched thing I was when Ifled from that den of all the devils. It is to guard me against thisthat I have come to you. I want you to unravel the tangled thread whichthreatens to drag me to my doom,--and, when unravelled to sunderit--for ever, if God wills!--in twain.'
'Explain.'
To be frank, for the moment I thought him mad. He went on.
'Three weeks ago, when I returned late one night from a sitting in theHouse of Commons, I found, on my study table, a sheet of paper on whichthere was a representation--marvellously like!--of the creature intowhich, as it seemed to me, the woman of the songs was transformed as Iclutched her throat between my hands. The mere sight of it brought backone of those visitations of which I have told you, and which I thoughtI had done with for ever,--I was convulsed by an agony of fear, throwninto a state approximating to a paralysis both of mind and body.'
'But why?'
'I cannot tell you. I only know that I have never dared to allow mythoughts to recur to that last dread scene, lest the mere recurrenceshould drive me mad.'
'What was this you found upon your study table,--merely a drawing?'
'It was a representation, produced by what process I cannot say, whichwas so wonderfully, so diabolically, like the original, that for amoment I thought the thing itself was on my table.'
'Who put it there?'
'That is precisely what I wish you to find out,--what I wish you tomake it your instant business to ascertain. I have found the thing,under similar circumstances, on three separate occasions, on my studytable,--and each time it has had on me the same hideous effect.'
'Each time after you have returned from a late sitting in the House ofCommons?'
'Exactly.'
'Where are these--what shall I call them--delineations?'
'That, again, I cannot tell you.'
'What do you mean?'
'What I say. Each time, when I recovered, the thing had vanished.'
'Sheet of paper and all?'
'Apparently,--though on that point I could not be positive. You willunderstand that my study table is apt to be littered with sheets ofpaper, and I could not absolutely determine that the thing had notstared at me from one of those. The delineation itself, to use yourword, certainly had vanished.'
I began to suspect that this was a case rather for a doctor than for aman of my profession. And hinted as much.
'Don't you think it is possible, Mr Lessingham, that you have beenoverworking yourself--that you have been driving your brain too hard,and that you have been the victim of an optical delusion?'
'I thought so myself; I may say that I almost hoped so. But wait till Ihave finished. You will find that there is no loophole in thatdirection.'
He appeared to be recalling events in their due order. His manner wasstudiously cold,--as if he were endeavouring, despite the strangenessof his story, to impress me with the literal accuracy of each syllablehe uttered.
'The night before last, on returning home, I found in my study astranger.'
'A stranger?'
'Yes.--In other words, a burglar.'
'A burglar?--I see.--Go on.'
He had paused. His demeanour was becoming odder and odder.
'On my entry he was engaged in forcing an entry into my bureau. I needhardly say that I advanced to seize him. But--I could not.'
'You could not?--How do you mean you could not?'
'I mean simply what I say. You must understand that this was noordinary felon. Of what nationality he was I cannot tell you. He onlyuttered two words, and they were certainly in English, but apart fromthat he was dumb. He wore no covering on his head or feet. Indeed, hisonly garment was a long dark flowing cloak which, as it fluttered abouthim, revealed that his limbs were bare.'
'An unique costume for a burglar.'
'The instant I saw him I realised that he was in some way connectedwith that adventure in the Rue de Rabagas. What he said and did, provedit to the hilt.'
'What did he say and do?'
'As I approached to effect his capture, he pronounced aloud two wordswhich recalled that awful scene the recollection of which alwayslingers in my brain, and of which I never dare to permit myself tothink. Their very utterance threw me into a sort of convulsion.'
'What were the words?'
Mr Lessingham opened his mouth,--and shut it. A marked change tookplace in the expression of his countenance. His eyes became fixed andstaring,--resembling the glassy orbs of the somnambulist. For a momentI feared that he was going to give me an object lesson in the'visitations' of which I had heard so much. I rose, with a view ofoffering him assistance. He motioned me back.
'Thank you.--It will pass away.'
His voice was dry and husky,--unlike his usual silvern tones. After anuncomfortable interval he managed to continue.
'You see for yourself, Mr Champnell, what a miserable weakling, whenthis subject is broached, I still remain. I cannot utter the words thestranger uttered, I cannot even write them down. For some inscrutablereason they have on me an effect similar to that which spells andincantations had on people in tales of witchcraft.'
'I suppose, Mr Lessingham, that there is no doubt that this mysteriousstranger was not himself an optical delusion?'
'Scarcely. There is the evidence of my servants to prove the contrary.'
'Did your servants see him?'
'Some of them,--yes. Then there is the evidence of the bureau. Thefellow had smashed the top right in two. When I came to examine thecontents I learned that a packet of letters was missing. They wereletters which I had received from Miss Lindon, a lady whom I hope tomake my wife. This, also, I state to you in confidence.'
'What use would he be likely to make of them?'
'If matters stand as I fear they do, he might make a very seriousmisuse of them. If the object of these wretches, after all these years,is a wild revenge, they would be capable, having discovered what she isto me, of working Miss Lindon a fatal mischief,--or, at the very least,of poisoning her mind.'
'I see.--How did the thief escape,--did he, like the delineation,vanish into air?'
'He escaped by the much more prosaic method of dashing through thedrawing-room window, and clambering down from the verandah into thestreet, where he ran right into someone's arms.'
'Into whose arms,--a constable's?'
'No; into Mr Atherton's,--Sydney Atherton's.'
'The inventor?'
'The same.--Do you know him?'
'I do. Sydney Atherton and I are friends of a good many years'standing.--But Atherton must have seen where he came from;--and,anyhow, if he was in the state of undress which you have described, whydidn't he stop him?'
'Mr Atherton's reasons were his own. He did not stop him, and, so faras I can learn, he did not attempt to stop him. Instead, he knocked atmy hall door to inform me that he had seen a man climb out of mywindow.'
'I happen to know that, at certain seasons, Atherton is a queerfish,--but that sounds very queer indeed.'
'The truth is, Mr Champnell, that, if it were not for Mr Atherton, Idoubt if I should have troubled you even now. The accident of his beingan acquaintance of yours makes my task easier.'
He drew his chair closer to me with an air of briskness which had beenforeign to him before. For some reason, which I was unable to fathom,the introduction of Atherton's name seemed to have enlivened him.However, I was not long to remain in darkness. In half a dozensentences he threw more light on the real cause of his visit to me thanhe had done in all that had gone before. His bearing, too, was morebusinesslike and to the point. For the first time I had someglimmerings of the politician,--alert, keen, eager,--as he is known toall the world.
'Mr Atherton, like myself, has been a postulant for Miss Lindon's hand.Because I have succeeded where he has failed, he has chosen to beangry. It seems that he has had dealings, either with my visitor ofTuesday night, or with some other his acquaintance, and he proposes touse what he has gleaned from him to the disadvantage of my character. Ihave just come from Mr Atherton. From hints he dropped I conclude that,probably during the last few hours, he has had an interview withsomeone who was connected in some way with that lurid patch in mycareer; that this person made so-called revelations, which were nothingbut a series of monstrous lies; and these so-called revelations MrAtherton has threatened, in so many words, to place before Miss Lindon.That is an eventuality which I wish to avoid. My own conviction is thatthere is at this moment in London an emissary from that den in thewhilom Rue de Rabagas--for all I know it may be the Woman of the Songsherself. Whether the sole purport of this individual's presence is todo me injury, I am, as yet, in no position to say, but that it isproposed to work me mischief, at any rate, by the way, is plain. Ibelieve that Mr Atherton knows more about this person's individualityand whereabouts than he has been willing, so far, to admit. I want you,therefore, to ascertain these things on my behalf; to find out what,and where, this person is, to drag her!--or him;--out into the light ofday. In short, I want you to effectually protect me from the terrorismwhich threatens once more to overwhelm my mental and my physicalpowers,--which bids fair to destroy my intellect, my career, my life,my all.'
'What reason have you for suspecting that Mr Atherton has seen thisindividual of whom you speak,--has he told you so?'
'Practically,--yes.'
'I know Atherton well. In his not infrequent moments of excitement heis apt to use strong language, but it goes no further. I believe him tobe the last person in the world to do anyone an intentional injustice,under any circumstances whatever. If I go to him, armed withcredentials from you, when he understands the real gravity of thesituation,--which it will be my business to make him do, I believethat, spontaneously, of his own accord, he will tell me as much aboutthis mysterious individual as he knows himself.'
'Then go to him at once.'
'Good. I will. The result I will communicate to you.'
I rose from my seat. As I did so, someone rushed into the outer officewith a din and a clatter. Andrews' voice, and another, becamedistinctly audible,--Andrews' apparently raised in vigorousexpostulation. Raised, seemingly, in vain, for presently the door of myown particular sanctum was thrown open with a crash, and Mr SydneyAtherton himself came dashing in,--evidently conspicuously under theinfluence of one of those not infrequent 'moments of excitement' ofwhich I had just been speaking.
The Beetle: A Mystery Page 34