CHAPTER XLIX.
LARCOM, THE BUTLER, VISITS THE ATTORNEY.
Now I may as well mention here an occurrence which, seeming veryinsignificant, has yet a bearing upon the current of this tale, and it isthis. About four days after the receipt of the despatches to which theconference of Captain Lake and the attorney referred, there came a letterfrom the same prolific correspondent, dated 20th March, from Genoa, whichaltogether puzzled Mr. Larkin. It commenced thus:--
'Genoa: 20th march.
'DEAR LARKIN,--I hope you did the three commissions all right. Wealdonwon't refuse, I reckon--but don't let Lake guess what the 150_l._ is for.Pay Martin for the job when finished; it is under 60_l._. mind; and getit looked at first.'
There was a great deal more, but these were the passages which perplexedLarkin. He unlocked the iron safe, and took out the sheaf of Wylder'sletters, and conned the last one over very carefully.
'Why,' said he, holding the text before his eyes in one hand and with thefingers of the other touching the top of his bald forehead, 'Tom Wealdonis not once mentioned in this, nor in any of them; and this palpablyrefers to some direction. And 150_l._?--no such sum has been mentioned.And what is this job of Martin's? Is it Martin of the China Kilns, orMartin of the bank? That, too, plainly refers to a former letter--not aword of the sort. This is very odd indeed.'
Larkin's finger-tips descended over his eyebrow, and scratched in aminiature way there for a few seconds, and then his large long handdescended further to his chin, and his under-lip was, as usual in deepthought, fondled and pinched between his finger and thumb.
'There has plainly been a letter lost, manifestly. I never knew anythingwrong in this Gylingden office. Driver has been always correct; but it ishard to know any man for certain in this world. I don't think the captainwould venture anything so awfully hazardous. I really can't suspect somonstrous a thing; but, _unquestionably_, a letter _has_ been lost--andwho's to _take_ it?'
Larkin made a fuller endorsement than usual on this particular letter,and ruminated over the correspondence a good while, with his lip betweenhis finger and thumb, and a shadow on his face, before he replaced it inits iron drawer.
'It is not a thing to be passed over,' murmured the attorney, who hadcome to a decision as to the first step to be taken, and he thought witha qualm of the effect of one of Wylder's confidential notes getting intoCaptain Lake's hands.
While he was buttoning his walking boots, with his foot on the chairbefore the fire, a tap at his study door surprised him. A hurried glanceon the table satisfying him that no secret paper or despatch lay there,he called--
'Come in.'
And Mr. Larcom, the grave butler of Brandon, wearing outside his portlyperson a black garment then known as a 'zephyr,' a white choker, andblack trousers, and well polished, but rather splay shoes, and, on thewhole, his fat and serious aspect considered, being capable of beingmistaken for a church dignitary, or at least for an eminent undertaker,entered the room with a solemn and gentlemanlike reverence.
'Oh, Mr. Larcom! a message, or business?' said Mr. Larkin, urbanely.
'Not a message, Sir; only an enquiry about them few shares,' answered Mr.Larcom, with another serene reverence, and remaining standing, hat inhand, at the door.
'Oh, yes; and how do you do, Mr. Larcom? Quite well, I trust. Yes--aboutthe Naunton Junction. Well, I'm happy to tell you--but pray take achair--that I have succeeded, and the directors have allotted you fiveshares; and it's your own fault if you don't make two ten-and-six ashare. The Chowsleys are up to six and a-half, I see here,' and hepointed to the 'Times.' Mr. Larcom's fat face smiled, in spite of hisendeavour to keep it under. It was part of his business to look alwaysgrave, and he coughed, and recovered his gravity.
'I'm very thankful, Sir,' said Mr. Larcom, 'very.'
'But do sit down, Mr. Larcom--pray do,' said the attorney, who was verygracious to Larcom. 'You'll get the scrip, you know, on executing, butthe shares are allotted. They sent the notice for you here. And--and howare the family at Brandon--all well, I trust?'
Mr. Larcom blew his nose.
'All, Sir, well.'
'And--and let me give you a glass of sherry, Mr. Larcom, after your walk.I can't compete with the _Brandon_ sherry, Mr. Larcom. Wonderful finewine that!--but still I'm told this is not a _bad_ wine notwithstanding.'
Larcom received it with grave gratitude, and sipped it, and spokerespectfully of it.
'And--and any news in that quarter of Mr. Mark Wylder--any--any_surmise_? I--you know--I'm interested for all parties.'
'Well, Sir, of Mr. Wylder, I can't say as I know no more than he's been asubjek of much unpleasant feelin', which I should say there has been agreat deal of angry talk since I last saw you, Sir, between Miss Lake andthe capting.'
'Ah, yes, you mentioned something of the kind; and your own impression,that Captain Lake, which I trust may turn out to be so, knows where Mr.Mark Wylder is at present staying.'
'I much misdoubt, Sir, it won't turn out to be no good story for no one,'said Mr. Larcom, in a low and sad tone, and with a long shake of hishead.
'No good story--hey? How do you mean, Larcom?'
'Well, Sir, I know you won't mention me, Mr. Larkin.'
'Certainly not--go on.'
'When people gets hot a-talking they won't mind a body comin' in; andthat's how the capting and Miss Rachel Lake they carried on their disputelike, though me coming into the room.'
'Just so; and what do you found your opinion about Mr. Mark Wylder on?'
'Well, Sir, I could not hear more than a word now and a sentince again;and pickin' what meaning I could out of what Miss Lake said, and thecapting could not deny, I do suspeck, Sir, most serious, as how they haveput Mr. Mark Wylder into a mad-house; and that's how I think it's gonewith him; an' you'll never see him out again if the capting has hiswill.'
'Do you mean to say you actually think he's shut up in a madhouse at thismoment?' demanded the attorney; his little pink eyes opened quite round,and his lank cheeks and tall forehead flushed, at the rush of wild ideasthat whirred round him, like a covey of birds at the startlingsuggestion.
The butler nodded gloomily. Larkin continued to stare on him in silence,with his round eyes, for some seconds after.
'In a _mad_-house! Pooh, pooh! incredible! Pooh! impossible--_quite_impossible. Did either Miss Lake or the captain use the word mad-house?'
'Well, no.'
Or any other word--lunatic asylum, or a--bedlam, or--or _any_ other wordmeaning the same thing?'
'Well, I can't say, Sir, as I remember; but I rayther think not. I onlyknow for certain, I took it so; and I do believe as how Mr. Mark Wylderis confined in a mad-house, and the captain knows all about it, and won'tdo nothing to get him out.'
'H'm--very odd--very strange; but it is only from the general tenor ofwhat passed, by a sort of guess work, you have arrived at thatconclusion?'
Larcom assented.
'Well, Mr. Larcom, I think you have been led into an erroneousconclusion. Indeed, I may mention I have reason to think so--in fact, to_know_ that such is the case. What you mention to me, you know, as afriend of the family, and holding, as I do, a confidential position--infact, a _very_ confidential one--alike in relation to Mr. Wylder and tothe family of Brandon Hall, is of course sacred; and anything that comesfrom you, Mr. Larcom, is never heard in connection with your name beyondthese walls. And let me add, it strikes me as highly important, both inthe interests of the leading individuals in this unpleasant business, andalso as pertaining to your own comfort and security, that you shouldcarefully avoid communicating what you have just mentioned to any otherparty. You understand?'
Larcom did understand perfectly, and so this little visit ended.
Mr. Larkin took a turn or two up and down the room thinking. He stopped,with his fingertips to his eyebrow, and thought more. Then he tookanother turn, and stopped again, and threw back his head, and gazed for awhile on the ceiling, and then he stood for a time at the window, withhis l
ip between his finger and thumb.
No, it was a mistake; it could not be. It was Mark Wylder'spenmanship--he could swear to it. There was no trace of madness in hisletters, nor of restraint. It was not possible even that he was wanderingfrom place to place under the coercion of a couple of keepers. No; Wylderwas an energetic and somewhat violent person, with high animal courage,and would be sure to blow up and break through any such machination. No,no; with Mark Wylder it was quite out of the question--altogethervisionary and impracticable. Persons like Larcom do make such absurdblunders, and so misapprehend the conversation of educated people.
Nothwithstanding all which, there remained in his mind an image of MarkWylder, in the straw and darkness of a solitary continentalmad-house--squalid, neglected, and becoming gradually that which he wassaid to be. And he always shaped him somehow after the outlines of agrizzly print he remembered in his boyish days, of a maniac chained in aSicilian cell, grovelling under the lash of a half-seen gaoler, and withhis teeth buried in his own arm.
Quite impossible! Mark Wylder was the last man in the world to submit tophysical coercion. The idea, besides, could not be reconciled with thefacts of the case. It was all a blundering chimera.
Mr. Larkin walked down direct to Gylingden, and paid a rather awful visitto Mr. Driver, of the post-office. A foreign letter, addressed to him,had most positively been lost. He had called to mention the circumstance,lest Mr. Driver should be taken by surprise by official investigation.Was it possible that the letter had been sent by mistake to Brandon--toCaptain Lake? Lake and Larkin, you know, might be mistaken. At allevents, it would be well to make your clerks recollect themselves. (Mr.Larkin knew that Driver's 'clerks' were his daughters.) It is not easy tomeet with a young fellow that is quite honest. But if they knew that theywould be subjected to a sifting examination on oath, on the arrival ofthe commissioner, they might possibly prefer finding the letter, in whichcase there would be no more about it. Mr. Driver knew him (Mr. Larkin),and he might tell his young men if they got the letter for him theyshould hear no more of it.
The people of Gylingden knew very well that, when the rat-like glittertwinkled in Mr. Larkin's eyes, and the shadow came over his long face,there was mischief brewing.
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