Wylder's Hand
Page 42
CHAPTER XLI.
IN WHICH SIR FRANCIS SEDDLEY MANIPULATES.
At about two o'clock Buddle was called up, and spirited away to Brandonin a dog-cart. A haemorrhage, perhaps, a sudden shivering, andinflammation--a sinking, maybe, or delirium--some awful change,probably--for Buddle did not return.
Old Major Jackson heard of it, in his early walk, at Buddle's door. Hehad begun to grow more hopeful. But hearing this he walked home, andreplaced the dress-coat and silk stockings he had ventured to remove,promptly in his valise, which he buckled down and locked--swallowed withagitated voracity some fragments of breakfast--got on his easy boots andgaiters--brushed his best hat, and locked it into its leathercase--placed his rug, great-coat, and umbrella, and a rough walking-stickfor service, and a gold-tipped, exquisite cane, for duty on promenades offashion, neatly on top of his valise, and with his old white hat andshooting-coat on, looking and whistling as much as possible as usual, hepopped carelessly into John Hobbs's stable, where he was glad to seethree horses standing, and he mentally chose the black cob for his flightto Dollington.
'A bloodthirsty rascal that Bracton,' muttered the major. The expenseswere likely to be awful, and some allowance was to be made for his stateof mind.
He was under Doctor Buddle's porch, and made a flimsy rattle with histhin brass knocker. 'Maybe he has returned?' He did not believe it,though.
Major Jackson was very nervous, indeed. The up trains from Dollingtonwere 'few and far between,' and that _diddled_ Crutchleigh would be downon him the moment the breath was out of poor Lake. 'It was plainyesterday at the sessions that infernal woman (his wife) had been at him.She hates Bracton like poison, because he likes the Brandon people; and,by Jove, he'll have up every soul concerned. The Devil and his wife Icall them. If poor Lake goes off anywhere between eleven and fouro'clock, I'm nabbed, by George!'
The door was opened. The doctor peeped out of his parlour.
'Well?' enquired the major, confoundedly frightened.
'Pretty well, thank ye, but awfully fagged--up all night, and no use.'
'But how _is_ he?' asked the major, with a dreadful qualm of dismay.
'Same as yesterday--no change--only a little bleeding last night--notarterial; venous you know--only venous.'
The major thought he spoke of the goddess, and though he did not wellcomprehend, said he was 'glad of it.'
'Think he'll do then?'
'He may--very unlikely though. A nasty case, as you can imagine.'
'He'll certainly not go, poor fellow, before four o'clock P.M. I daresay--eh?'
The major's soul was at the Dollington station, and was regulating poorLake's departure by 'Bradshaw's Guide.'
'Who knows? We expect Sir Francis this morning. Glad to have a share ofthe responsibility off my shoulders, I can tell you. Come in and have achop, will you?'
'No, thank you, I've had my breakfast.'
'You have, have you? Well, I haven't,' cried the doctor, with anagreeable chuckle, shaking the major's hand, and disappearing again intohis parlour.
I found in my lodgings in London, on my return from Doncaster, some twomonths later, a copy of the county paper of this date, with a crossscrawled beside the piece of intelligence which follows. I knew thattremulous cross. It was traced by the hand of poor old Miss Kybes--withher many faults always kind to me. It bore the Brandon postmark, andaltogether had the impress of authenticity. It said:--
'We have much pleasure in stating that the severe injury sustained fourdays since by Captain Stanley Lake, at the time a visitor at the Lodge,the picturesque residence of Josiah Larkin, Esq., in the vicinity ofGylingden, is not likely to prove so difficult of treatment or soimminently dangerous as was at first apprehended. The gallant gentlemanwas removed from the scene of his misadventure to Brandon Hall, close towhich the accident occurred, and at which mansion his noble relatives,Lord Chelford and the Dowager Lady Chelford, are at present staying on avisit. Sir Francis Seddley came down express from London, and assisted byour skilful county practitioner, Humphrey Buddle, Esq., M.D. ofGylingden, operated most successfully on Saturday last, and we are happyto say the gallant patient has since been going on as favourably as couldpossibly have been anticipated. Sir Francis Seddley returned to London onSunday afternoon.'
Within a week after the operation, Buddle began to talk so confidentlyabout his patient, that the funereal cloud that overhung Brandon hadalmost totally disappeared, and Major Jackson had quite unpacked hisportmanteau.
About a week after the 'accident' there came one of Mr. Mark Wylder'sstrange letters to Mr. Jos. Larkin. This time it was from Marseilles, andbore date the 27th November. It was much the longest he had yet received,and was in the nature of a despatch, rather than of those short notes inwhich he had hitherto, for the most part, communicated.
Like the rest of his letters it was odd, but written, as it seemed, inbetter spirits.
'Dear Larkin,--You will be surprised to find me in this port, but I thinkmy secret cruise is nearly over now, and you will say the plan was amaster-stroke, and well executed by a poor devil, with nobody to advisehim. I am coiling such a web round them, and making it fast, as you maysee a spider, first to this point and then to the other, that I won'tleave my persecutors one solitary chance of escape. I'll draw it quietlyround and round--closer and closer--till they can neither blow nor budge,and then up to the yardarm they go, with what breath is left in them. Youdon't know yet _how_ I am dodging, or why my measures are taken; but I'llshorten your long face a good inch with a genuine broad grin when youlearn how it all was. I may see you to tell the story in four weeks'time; but keep this close. Don't mention where I write from, nor even somuch as my name. I have reasons for everything, which you may guess, Idare say, being a sharp chap; and it is not for nothing, be very sure,that I am running this queer rig, masquerading, hiding, and dodging, likea runaway forger, which is not pleasant anyway, and if you doubt it, onlytry; but needs must when the old boy drives. He is a clever fellow, nodoubt, but has been sometimes out-witted before now. You must arrangeabout Chelford and Lake. I don't know where Lake is staying. I don'tsuppose at Brandon; but he won't stay in the country nor spend his moneyto please you or I. Therefore you must have him at your house--besure--and I will square it with you; I think three pounds a week ought todo it very handsome. Don't be a muff and give him expensive wines--a pintof sherry is plenty between you; and when he dines at his clubhalf-a-pint does him. _I_ know; but if he costs you more, I herebypromise to pay it. Won't that do? Well, about Chelford: I have beenthinking he takes airs, and maybe he is on his high-horse about thatawkward business about Miss Brandon. But there is no reason why CaptainLake should object. He has only to hand you a receipt in my name for theamount of cheques you may give him, and to lodge a portion of it where Itold him, and the rest to buy Consols; and I suppose he will expectpayment for his no-trouble. Every fellow, particularly thesegentlemanlike fellows, they have a pluck at you when they can. If he isat that, give him at the rate of a hundred a-year, or a hundred and fiftyif you think he won't do for less; though 100_l_. ought to be a good dealto Lake; and tell him I have a promise of the adjutancy of the countymilitia, if he likes that; and I am sure of a seat in Parliament eitherfor the county or for Dollington, as you know, and can do better for himthen; and I rely on you, one way or another, to make him undertake it.And now for myself: I think my vexation is very near ended. I have notfired a gun yet, and they little think what a raking broadside I'll givethem. Any of the county people you meet, tell them I'm making a littleexcursion on the Continent; and if they go to particularise, you may saythe places I have been at. Don't let anyone know more. I wish there wasany way of stopping that old she'--(it looked like dragon or devil--butwas traced over with a cloud of flourishes, and only 'Lady Chelford'smouth' was left untouched). 'Don't expect to hear from me so long a yarnfor some time again; and don't write. I don't stay long anywhere, anddon't carry my own name--and never ask for letters at the post. I've agood glass, and can see pretty far,
and make a fair guess enough what'sgoing on aboard the enemy.
'I remain always,
'Dear Larkin,
'Ever yours truly,
'MARK WYLDER.'
'He hardly trusts Lake more than he does me, I presume,' murmured Mr.Larkin, elevating his tall bald head with an offended and superciliousair; and letting the thin, open letter fall, or rather throwing it with aslight whisk upon the table.
'No, I take leave to think he certainly does _not_. Lake has got privatedirections about the disposition of a portion of the money. Of course, ifthere are persons to be dealt with who are not pleasantly approachable byrespectable professional people--in fact it would not suit me. It isreally rather a compliment, and relieves me of the unpleasant necessityof saying--no.'
Yet Mr. Larkin was very sore, and curious, and in a measure, hated bothLake and Wylder for their secret confidences, and was more than everresolved to get at the heart of Mark's mystery.