Wylder's Hand

by Joseph Sheridan Le Fanu

  CHAPTER XXVI.

  CAPTAIN LAKE FOLLOWS TO LONDON.

  Wylder's levanting in this way was singularly disconcerting. The time wasgrowing short. He wrote with a stupid good-humour, and an insolentbrevity which took no account of Miss Brandon's position, or that (thoughsecondary in awkwardness) of her noble relatives. Lord Chelford plainlythought more than he cared to say; and his mother, who never mincedmatters, said perhaps more than she quite thought.

  Chelford was to give the beautiful heiress away. But the receiver of thisrich and peerless gift--like some mysterious knight who, having carriedall before him in the tourney, vanishes no one knows whither, when theprize is about to be bestowed, and whom the summons of the herald and thecall of the trumpet follow in vain--had escaped them.

  'Lake has gone up to town this morning--some business with his bankerabout his commission--and he says he will make Wylder out on his arrival,and write to me,' said Lord Chelford.

  Old Lady Chelford glanced across her shoulder at Dorcas, who leaned backin a great chair by the window, listlessly turning over a book.

  'She's a strange girl, she does not seem to feel her situation--a mostpainful and critical one. That low, coarse creature must be looked upsomehow.'

  'Lake knows where he is likely to be found, and will see him, I dare say,this evening--perhaps in time to write by to-night's post.'

  So, in a quiet key, Miss Dorcas being at a distance, though in the sameroom, the dowager and her son discussed this unpleasant and very nervoustopic.

  That evening Captain Lake was in London, comfortably quartered in aprivate hotel, in one of the streets off Piccadilly. He went to his cluband dined better than he had done for many days. He really enjoyed histhree little courses--his pint of claret, his cup of _cafe noir_, and his_chasse;_ the great Babylon was his Jerusalem, and his spirit found restthere.

  He was renovated and refreshed, his soul was strengthened, and hiscountenance waxed cheerful, and he began to feel like himself again,under the brown canopy of metropolitan smoke, and among the cabs andgaslights.

  After dinner he got into a cab, and drove to Mark Wylder's club. Was hethere?--No. Had he been there to-day?--No. Or within the last week?--No;not for two months. He had left his address, and was in the country. Theaddress to which his letters were forwarded was 'The Brandon Arms,Gylingden.'

  So Captain Lake informed that functionary that his friend had come up totown, and asked him again whether he was quite certain that he had notcalled there, or sent for his letters.--No; nothing of the sort. ThenCaptain Lake asked to see the billiard-marker, who was likely to knowsomething about him. But he knew nothing. He certainly had not been atthe 'Lark's Nest,' which was kept by the marker's venerable parent, andwas a favourite haunt of the gay lieutenant.

  Then our friend Stanley, having ruminated for a minute, pencilled alittle note to Mark, telling him that he was staying at Muggeridge'sHotel, 7, Hanover Street, Piccadilly, and wished _most_ particularly tosee him for a few minutes; and this he left with the hall-porter to givehim should he call.

  Then Lake got into his cab again, having learned that he had lodgings inSt. James's Street when he did not stay at the club, and to these hedrove. There he saw Mrs. M'Intyre, a Caledonian lady, at this hoursomewhat mellow and talkative; but she could say nothing to the purposeeither. Mr. Wylder had not been there for nine weeks and three days; andwould owe her, on Saturday next, twenty-five guineas. So here, too, heleft a little note to the same purpose; and re-entering his cab, he drovea long way, and past St. Paul's, and came at last to a court, outsidewhich he had to dismount from his vehicle, entering the grimy quadranglethrough a narrow passage. He had been there that evening before, shortlyafter his arrival, with old Mother Dutton, as he called her, about herson, Jim.

  Jim was in London, looking for a situation, all which pleased CaptainLake; and he desired that she should send him to his hotel to see him inthe morning.

  But being in some matters of a nervous and impatient temperament, he hadcome again, as we see, hoping to find Jim there, and to anticipate hisinterview of the morning.

  The windows, however, were dark, and a little research satisfied CaptainLake that the colony was in bed. In fact, it was by this time half-pasteleven o'clock, and working-people don't usually sit up to that hour. Butour friend, Stanley Lake, was one of those persons who think that thecourse of the world's affairs should bend a good deal to their personalconvenience, and he was not pleased with these unreasonableworking-people who had gone to their beds, and brought him to this remoteand grimy amphitheatre of black windows for nothing. So, wishing them thegood-night they merited, he re-entered his cab, and drove rapidly backagain towards the West-end.

  This time he went to a somewhat mysterious and barricadoed place, wherein a blaze of light, in various rooms, gentlemen in hats, and some ingreat coats, were playing roulette or hazard; and I am sorry to say, thatour friend, Captain Lake, played first at one and then at the other, withwhat success exactly I don't know. But I don't think it was very far fromfour o'clock in the morning when he let himself into his family hotelwith that latchkey, the cock's tail of Micyllus, with which good-naturedold Mrs. Muggeridge obliged the good-looking captain.

  Captain Lake having given orders the evening before, that anyone whomight call in the morning, and ask to see him, should be shown up to hisbed-room _sans ceremonie_, was roused from deep slumber at a quarter pastten, by a knock at his door, and a waiter's voice.

  'Who's that?' drawled Captain Lake, rising, pale and half awake, on hiselbow, and not very clear where he was.

  'The man, Sir, as you left a note for yesterday, which he desires to seeyou?'

  'Tell him to step in.'

  So out went the waiter in pumps, and the sound of thick shoes was audibleon the lobby, and a sturdier knock sounded on the door.

  'Come in,' said the captain.

  And Jim Dutton entered the room, and, closing the door, made, at the sideof the bed, his reverence, consisting of a nod and a faint pluck at thelock of hair over his forehead.

  Now Stanley Lake had, perhaps, expected to see some one else; for thoughthis was a very respectable-looking fellow for his walk in life, the gayyoung officer stared full at him, with a frightened and rather dreadfulcountenance, and actually sprung from his bed at the other side, with anejaculation at once tragic and blasphemous.

  The man plainly had not expected to produce any such result, and lookedvery queer. Perhaps he thought something had occurred to affect hispersonal appearance; perhaps some doubt about the captain's state ofhealth, and misgiving as to delirium tremens may have flickered over hisbrain.

  They were staring at one another across the bed, the captain in hisshirt.

  At last the gallant officer seemed to discover things as they were, forhe said--

  'Jim Dutton, by Jove!'

  The oath was not so innocent; but it was delivered quietly; and then thecaptain drew a long breath, and then, still staring at him, he laughed aghastly little laugh, also quietly.

  'And so it is you, Jim,' said the captain. 'And how do you do--quitewell, Jim--and out of place? You've been hurt in the foot, eh? so oldyour--Mrs. Dutton tells me, but that won't signify. I was dreaming whenyou came in; not quite awake yet, hardly; just wait a bit till I get myslippers on; and this--' So into his red slippers he slid, and got hisgreat shawl dressing-gown, such as fine gentlemen then wore, about hisslender person, and knotted the silken cords with depending tassels, andgreeted Jim Dutton again in very friendly fashion, enquiring veryparticularly how he had been ever since, and what his mother was doing;and I'm afraid not listening to Jim's answers as attentively as one mighthave expected.

  Whatever may have been his intrinsic worth, Jim was not polished, andspoke, moreover, an uncouth dialect, which broke out now and then. But hewas in a sort of way attached to the Lake family, the son of anhereditary tenant on that estate which had made itself wings, and flownaway like the island of Laputa. It could not be said to be love; it was asort of traditiona
ry loyalty; a sentiment, however, not altogetherunserviceable.

  When they had talked together for a while, the captain said--

  'The fact is, it is not quite on me you would have to attend; thesituation, perhaps, is better. You have no objection to travel. You_have_ been abroad, you know; and of course wages and all that will be inproportion.'

  Well, Jim had not any objection to speak of.

  'What's wanted is a trustworthy man, perfectly steady, you see, and afellow who knows how to hold his tongue.'

  The last condition, perhaps, struck the man as a little odd; he looked alittle confusedly, and he conveyed that he would not like to be inanything that was not quite straight.

  'Quite straight, Sir!' repeated Stanley Lake, looking round on himsternly; 'neither should I, I fancy. You are to suppose the case of agentleman who is nursing his estate--you know what that means--and wantsto travel, and keep quite quiet, and who requires a steady, trustworthyman to look after him, in such a way as I shall direct, with very littletrouble and capital pay. I have a regard for you, Dutton; and seeing sogood a situation was to be had, and thinking you the fittest man I know,I wished to serve you and my friend at the same time.'

  Dutton became grateful and docile upon this.

  'There are reasons, quite honourable I need not tell you, which make itnecessary, James Dutton, that the whole of this affair should be keptperfectly to ourselves; you are not to repeat one syllable I say to youto your mother, do you mind, or to any other person living. The gentlemanis liberal, and if you can just hold your tongue, you will have littletrouble in satisfying him upon all other points. But if you can't bequite silent, you had better, I frankly tell you, decline the situation,excellent in all respects as it is.'

  'I'm a man, Sir, as can be close enough.'

  'So much the better. You don't drink?'

  Dutton coloured a little and coughed and said--

  'No, Sir.'

  'You have your papers?'

  'Yes, Sir.'

  'We must be satisfied as to your sobriety, Dutton. Come back at half-pasteleven and I'll see you, and bring your papers; and, do you see, you arenot to talk, you understand; only you may say, if anyone presses, that Iam thinking of hiring you to attend on a gentleman, whose name you don'tyet know, who's going to travel. That's all.'

  So Jim Dutton made his bow, and departed; and Captain Lake continued towatch the door for some seconds after his departure, as if he could seehis retreating figure through it. And, said he, with an oath, and hishand to his forehead, over his eyebrow--

  'It _is_ the most unaccountable thing in nature!'

  Then, after a reverie of some seconds, the young gentleman appliedhimself energetically to his toilet; and coming down to his sitting-room,he looked into his morning paper, and then into the street, and told theservant as he sate down to breakfast, that he expected a gentleman namedWylder to call that morning, and to be sure to show him up directly.

  Captain Lake's few hours' sleep, contrary to popular ideas aboutgamesters' slumbers, had been the soundest and the most natural which hehad enjoyed for a good many nights. He was refreshed. At Gylingden andBrandon he had been simulating Captain Stanley Lake--being, in truth,something quite different--with a vigilant histrionic effort which wasawfully exhausting, and sometimes nearly intolerable. Here the captainwas perceptibly stealing into his old ways and feelings. His spiritrevived; something like confidence in the future, and a possibility evenof enjoying the present, was struggling visibly through the cold fog thatenvironed him. Reason has, after all, so little to do with our moods. Theweather, the scene, the stomach, how pleasantly they deal with facts--howthey supersede philosophy, and even arithmetic, and teach us how much oflife is intoxication and illusion.

  Still there was the sword of Damocles over his pineal gland. D---- thatsheer, cold blade! D---- him that forged it! Still there was a great dealof holding in a horse-hair. Had not salmon, of I know not how manypounds' weight, been played and brought to land by that slender towage.There is the sword, a burnished piece of cutlery, weighing just so manypounds; and the horsehair has sufficed for an hour, and why not foranother--and soon? Hang moping and nonsense! Waiter, another pint ofChian; and let the fun go forward.

  So the literal waiter knocked at the door. 'A person wanted to seeCaptain Lake. No, it was not Mr. Wylder. It was the man who had been herein the morning--Dutton is his name.'

  'And so it is really half-past eleven?' said Lake, in a sleepy surprise.'Let him come in.'

  And so in comes Jim Dutton again, to hear particulars, and have, as hehopes, his engagement ratified.