CHAPTER XVII
Professor Vanlief lost no time in inventing an excuse for his immediatedeparture. Jeannette would be well looked after. He got a fewnecessaries together and started for Framley Lodge. After some delay heobtained an interview with the distinguished patient.
"Try," urged Vanlief, "to tell me when this illness came upon you. Wasit after your curtain-speech at the end of last season?"
Wantage looked with blank and futile eyes. "Curtain-speech? I madenone."
"Oh, yes. Try to remember! It made a stir, did that speech of yours. Tryto think what happened that day!"
"I made no speech. I remember nothing. I am Wantage, I think. Wantage. Iused to act, did I not?" He laughed, feebly. It was melancholy to watchhim. He could eat and drink and sleep; he had the intelligence of anecho. Each thought of his needed a stimulant.
Vanlief persisted, in spite of melancholy rebuffs. There was so much atstake. This man's whole career was at stake. And, if matters were notmended soon, the evil would be under way; the harm would have begun. Itmeant loss, actual loss now, and one could scarcely compute how muchruin afterwards. And he, Vanlief, would be the secret agent of thisruin! Oh, it was monstrous! Something must be done. Yet, he could donothing until he was sure. To meddle, without absolute certainty, wouldbe criminal.
"What do you remember before you fell ill?" he repeated.
"Oh, leave me alone!" said Wantage. "Isn't the doctor bad enough,without you. I tell you I remember nothing. I was well, and now I amill. Perhaps it was something Orson Vane gave me at supper that night, Idon't remember--"
"At supper? Vane?" The Professor leaped at the words.
"Yes. I said so, didn't I? I had supper in his rooms, and then--"
But Vanlief was gone. He had no time for the amenities now. His ageseemed to leave him as his purpose warmed, and his goal neared. All thefine military bearing came out again. The people who traveled with himthat day took him for nothing less than a distinguished General.
At the end of the day he reached Vane's town house. Nevins was all alonethere; all the other servants were on the _Beaurivage_. The man lookedworn and aged. He trembled visibly when he walked; his nerves weregone, and he had the taint of spirits on him.
"Mr. Vanlief, sir," he whined, "it'll be the death of me, will thisplace. First he buys a yacht, sir, like I buy a 'at, if you please; andnow I'm to sell the furniture and all the antics. These antics, sir, asthe master 'as collected all over the world, sir. It goes to me 'eart."
Vanlief, even in his desperate mood, could not keep his smile back."Sell the antiques, eh? Well, they'll fetch plenty, I've no doubt. Butif I were you I wouldn't hurry; Mr. Vane may change his mind, you know."
"Ah," nodded Nevins, brightening, "that's true, sir. You're right; I'llwait the least bit. It's never too soon to do what you don't want to,eh, sir? And I gives you my word, as a man that's 'ad places with thenobility, sir, that the last year's been a sad drain on me system. Whatwith swearing, sir, and letters I wouldn't read to my father confessor,sir, Mr. Vane's simply not the man he was at all. Of course, if he saysto sell the furniture, out it goes! But, like as not, he'll come in heresome line day and ask where I've got all his trappings. And then I'llshow him his own letter, and he'll say he never wrote it. Oh, it's a badlife I've led of late, sir. Never knowing when I could call my soul myown."
The phrase struck the Professor with a sort of chill. It was true; ifhis discovery went forth upon the world, no man would, in very truth,know when he could call his soul his own. It would be at the mercy ofevery poacher. But he could not, just now, afford reflections of suchwide scope; there was a nearer, more immediate duty.
"Nevins," he said, "I came about that mirror of mine."
"Yes, sir. I'm glad of that, sir; uncommon glad. You'll betaking itaway, sir? It's bad luck I've 'ad since that bit of plate come in thehouse."
"You're right. I mean to take it away. But only for a time. Seeing Mr.Vane's thinking of selling up, perhaps it's just as well if I have thisout of the way for a time, eh? Might avoid any confusion. I set store bythat mirror, Nevins; I'd not like it sold by mistake."
"Well, sir, if you sets more store by it than the master, I'd like tosee it done, sir. The master's made me life a burden about that thereglass. I've 'ad to watch it like a cat watches a mouse. I don't know nowwhether I'd rightly let you take it or not." He scratched his head, andlooked in some quandary.
"Nonsense, Nevins. You know it's mine as well as you know your own name.Didn't you fetch it over from my house in the first place, and didn'tyou pack it and wrap it under my very eyes?"
"True, sir; I did. My memory's a bit shaky, sir, these days. You may doas you like with your own, I'll never dispute that. But Mr. Vane'sorders was mighty strict about the plaguey thing. I wish I may neversee it again. It's been, 'Nevins, let nobody disturb the new mirror!'and 'Nevins, did anyone touch the new mirror while I was gone?' and'Nevins, was the window open near the new mirror?' until I fair feelsick at the sight of it."
"No doubt," said the professor, impatiently. "Then you'll oblige me bywrapping it up for shipping purposes as soon as ever you can. I'm goingto take it away with me at once. I suppose there's no chance of Mr. Vanedropping in here before I bring the glass back, but, if he does, tellhim you acted under my orders."
"A good riddance," muttered Nevins, losing no time over his task ofcovering and securing the mirror. "I'll pray it never comes this wayagain," he remarked.
The professor, after seeing that all danger of injury to the mirror'sexposed parts was over, walked nervously up and down the rooms. He wouldhave to carry his plan through with force of arms, with sheerimpertinence and energy of purpose. It was an interference in two livesthat he had in view. Had he any right to that? But was he not, afterall, to blame for the fact of the curious transfusion of soul that hadleft one man a mental wreck, and stimulated the other's forces to acourse of life out of all character with the strivings of his real soul?If he had not tempted Orson Vane to these experiments, Arthur Wantagewould never be drooping in the shadow of collapse, and in danger oflosing his proper place in the roll of prosperity. Vanlief shuddered atthought of what an unscrupulous man might not do with this discovery ofhis; what lives might be ruined, what successes built on fraud andtheft? Fraud and theft? Those words were foul enough in the materialthings of life; but how much more horrid would they be when they coveredthe spiritual realm. To steal a purse, in the old dramatic phrase, was apetty thing; but to steal a soul--Professor Vanlief found himselflaunched into a whirlpool of doubt and confusion.
He had opened a new, vast region of mental science. He had enabled oneman to pass the wall with which nature had hedged the unforeseen forcesof humanity. Was he to learn that, in opening this new avenue of psychicactivity, he had gone counter to the eternal Scheme of Things, and letin no divine light, but rather the fierce glare of diabolism?
His thoughts traversed argument upon argument while Nevins completed hiswork. He heard the man's voice, finally, with an actual relief, agladness at being recalled to the daring and doing that lay before him.
When the Professor was gone, a wagon bearing away the precious mirror,Nevins poured himself out a notably stiff glass of Five-Star.
"Here's hoping," he toasted the silent room, "the silly thing getssmashed into everlasting smithereens!"
And he drowned any fears he might have had to the contrary. Thisparticular species of time-killing was now a daily matter with Nevins;the incessant strain upon his nerves of some months past had finallybrought him to the pitch where he had only one haven of refuge left.
The Professor sped over the miles to Framley Lodge. He took littlethought about meals or sleep. The excitement was marking him deeply; buthe paid no heed to, or was unaware of, that. Arrived at the Lodge acampaign of bribery and corruption began. Servant after servant had tobe suborned. Nothing but the well-known fame and name of AugustusVanlief enabled him, even with his desperate expenditures of tips, toavert the suspicion that he had some deadly, s
ome covertly inimical endin view. One does not, at this age of the world, burst into anotherman's house and order that man's servants about, without coming undersuspicion, to put it mildly. Fortunately Vanlief encountered, just ashis plot seemed shattering against the rigor of the householdarrangements, the doctor who was in attendance on Wantage. The manhappened to be on the staff of the University where Vanlief held achair. He held the older man in the greatest respect; he listened to hisrapid talk with all the patience in the world. He looked astonished,even uncomprehending, but he shook his shoulders up and down a few timeswith complaisance. "There seems no possible harm," he assented.
"Don't ask me to believe in the curative possibilities, Professor;but--there can be no harm, that I see. He is not to be unduly excited. Amirror, you say? You don't think vanity can send a man from illness tohealth, do you? Not even an actor can be as vain as that, surely.However, I shall tell the attendants to see that the thing is done asquietly as possible. I trust you, you see, to let nothing detrimentalhappen. I have to get over to the Port of Pines. I shall give theorders. Goodbye. I wish I could see the result of your little--h'm,notion--but I dare say to-morrow will be soon enough."
And he smiled the somewhat condescending smile of the successfulpractitioner who fancies he is addressing a campaigner whose usefulnessis passing.
The setting up of the professor's mirror, so as to face Wantage'ssickbed, took no little time, no little care, no little exertion. Whenit was in place, the professor tiptoed to the actor's side.
"Well," queried Wantage, "what is it? Medicine? Lord, I thought I'dtaken all there was in the world. Where is it?"
"No," said the professor, "not medicine. I am going to ask you to lookquite hard at that curtain by the foot of the bed for a moment. I havesomething I think may interest you and--"
As the actor's eyes, in mere physical obedience to the other'ssuggestion, took the desired direction, Vanlief tugged at a cord thatrolled the curtain aside, revealing the mirror, which gave Wantage backthe somewhat haggard apparition of himself.
A few seconds went by in silence. Then Wantage frowned sharply.
"Gad," he exclaimed, vigorously and petulantly, "what a beastly bad bitof make-up!"
The voice was the voice of the man whom the town had a thousand timesapplauded as "The King of the Dandies."
An exceedingly bad quarter of an hour followed for Vanlief. Wantage, nowin full possession of all his mental faculties, abused the Professor uphill and down dale. What was he doing there? What business had thatmirror there? What good was a covered-up mirror? Where were theservants? The doctor had given orders? The doctor was a fool. Only themere physical infirmity consequent upon being bedridden for so longprevented Wantage from becoming violent in his rage. Vanlief, sharp aswas his sense of relief at the success of his venture, was yet morerelieved when his bribes finally got his mirror and himself out of theLodge. The incident had its humors, but he was too tired, too enervated,to enjoy them. The very moment of Wantage's recovery of his soul had itsnote of ironic comedy; the succeeding vituperation from the restoredactor; Vanlief's own meekness; the marvel and rapacity of theservants--all these were abrim with chances for merriment. But Vanlieffound himself, for, perhaps, the first time in his life, too old toenjoy the happy interpretations of life. Into all his rejoicings overthe outcome of this affair there crept the constant doubts, theceaseless questionings, as to whether he had discovered a mine of wisdomand benefit, or a mere addition to man's chances for evil.
His return journey, his delivery of the mirror into Nevins' unwillingcare, were accomplished by him in a species of daze.
He had hardly counted upon the danger of his discovery. Was he stillyoung enough to contend with them?
Nevins almost flung the mirror to its accustomed place. He unwrapped itspitefully. When he left the room, the curtain of the glass was flappingin the wind. Nevins heard the sound quite distinctly; he went to thesideboard and poured out a brimming potion.
"I 'opes the wind'll play the Old 'Arry with it," he smiled to himself.He smiled often that night; he went to bed smiling. His was the cheerfulmode of intoxication.
Augustus Vanlief reached the cottage in the hills a sheer wreck. He hadleft it a hale figure of a man who had ever kept himself keyed up to thebest; now he was old, shaking, trembling in nerves and muscles.
Jeannette rushed toward him and put her arms around him. She looked herloving, silent wonder into his weary eyes.
"Sleep, dear, sleep," said this old, tired man of science, "first let mesleep."
The Imitator: A Novel Page 17