Winderhans turned round.
“Wh-who are you?” said he.
“I?” said the voice which belonged to a personage in mourning, who, led by a fiery looking chain a large black dog whose very color was the deepest mourning. “Ah, I understand—ha. ha!”
And the visitor nodded as if the jest was not bad. The Professor was amazed.
“Ha, ha!” laughed the Gentleman in Black, “very good.”
We say laughed, but in using this term we perhaps are conveying a wrong idea. The Dark Gentleman did not move his lips in laughing, and his misty eyes were motionless. The sound, however, was certainly produced. There it was—“Ha, ha!”
“Sir,” said the little Professor frowning, but still slightly trembling, “I demand definitely an answer to my question.”
“Your question?”
“Yes, sir! my question, sir!”
By this time Winderhans was mustering courage.
“You wish to know me?”
“I demand your name, sir.’
“Well Professor, come don’t quarrel. If you but knew it—like many others you are ignorant of it—we are the best friends in the world.”
“I never saw you in my life before, sir—and then that horrid dog!”
A strange noise issued from the mouth of the black dog.
“Silence, sir,” said the Dark Gentleman sternly to his dog, “I am surprised at your conduct, sir! Don’t mind him,” continued he turning to the Professor, “he’s an ill-trained imp, and besides was only licking his lips.”
The Professor afterwards declared that the sound was, in its character, decidedly cachinnatory.
“I care not for your dog,” said Winderhans, “but I again demand your name and business: a friend of mine indeed!”
“Was not Captain Kyd your great grand uncle?”
The Professor turned in his seat.
“You know that?” said he with a start.
CHAPTER II.
WINDERHANS DISCUSSES HIS GENEALOGY.
The Gentleman in Black greeted this unconscious movement with a smile which revealed a row of long sharp teeth, like the tusks of a wild boar.
“Do I know it?” said he, “certainly, my dear Professor. How should I be ignorant of the Captain’s descendants? He was one of my most intimate and valued friends; he and Morgan I ever held in the highest esteem and respect.”
“You knew Captain Kyd?”
“Yes, we are still excellent friends: in fact we live together yet.”
The Professor’s hair rose up.
“You are,”—he stammered.
“Joking, my dear friend—true, but this humor seizes me at times, and then I delight in feigning great age like Cagliostro, who is another of my—but these little matters cannot interest you.
“How did you get in, sir?”
“I found the door in front open.”
“Ah, yes,” said the Professor, “I left the key in the lock—the door open.”
“We were speaking of the Captain,” said the Dark Gentleman looking with a stern and warning air at the dog. “You knew then of your relationship?”
“Yes.”
“How do you look upon it?”
“As a disgrace,” said Winderhans shortly.
The dog growled.
“Did you ever read his will?”
The Professor, who was again becoming irritated at the intruder’s easy air of friendship and intimacy, was at once mastered by a strange curiosity.
“His will?” said he. “Why Kyd had no will.”
“Undoubtedly he had, my dear Professor; and I could convince you by ocular demonstration.”
“You!” said the Professor pushing back his chair.
“Certainly,” said the Dark Gentleman.
“You!” repeated Winderhans in amazement.
“Yes, here it is”—and the Dark Gentleman drew from his pocket, or some mysterious receptacle, an old and discolored parchment, worn in places, and stained with sea water.
“Look,” said he unrolling a part. “I know your acquaintance with Spanish to be almost as perfect as my own.”
Winderhans read thereon what, translated, was to the following effect:
“These convents being satisfied and the said churches being rebuilt, I do bequeath and give in fee to Isaac Von Winderhans of Amsterdam, to him and his heirs forever, all my buried treasure on the shores of James River, adjoining the Falls, near—”
The parchment was suddenly rolled up.
“I beg pardon, my dear Professor,” said the Dark Gentleman smiling politely this time, “in this age of commerce and ‘considerations’ I also must have a consideration for giving up this secret, as my natural love of justice has compelled me to do. I alone know the spot of this treasure and,” putting the parchment in his pocket, “I demand an equivalent.”
“Kyd’s will,” murmured Winderhans thoughtfully, “can it be?”
“To be sure it can be. Silence, sir,” continued the Dark Gentleman sternly to his dog, “I am surprised, shocked, sir. Let there be no more of this.”
“Of what?” said Winderhans, “we were talking of that old scoundrel Kyd and his will.”
This time the dog yelled. No sooner had he done so than his master let go the chain, gave him a kick which sent him three paces, and frowning, commanded him to “go and watch by Morgan.”
The dog disappeared at one bound with an infuriated growl.
“Who is Morgan,” asked Winderhans, “did you speak of the Buccaneer of that name?”
“Hum!” said the Gentleman in Black, settling his black neckcloth and looking a little mysterious, “did I say Morgan?”
“Undoubtedly you did.”
“Well, Morgan was my particular friend and I name my black horse after him.”
“Now no more jesting!” said Winderhans. “I won’t stand it. Morgan your particular friend and he dead two hundred years!”
“Not at all, Professor. Only a hundred and fifty or so. I knew him well poor fellow. He lived much feared and respected, but that treatment of him, in his dying agonies by Dr. Quashie, was, to say the least, not genteel.”
“Dr. Quashie?”
“Yes, a flourishing black doctor some one hundred and seventy years ago.”
“Who the devil are you?” said Winderhans angrily.
“Precisely—you are right—very true—undoubtedly—exactly so”-said his visitor with much volubility, “we were speaking, I believe, of Kyd’s will and treasure.”
The Professor’s eyes glistened in spite of himself.
“But,” said he hesitatingly, “did the captain ever navigate the James to Richmond?”
“Certainly and every large river on the coast, my dear Professor.”
“How do you know it?”
“Never mind. That I know the fact is sufficient, and should you consent we will take a view of the spot and the treasure.”
“The treasure? Yes, when?”
For Winderhans was slightly devoted to money.
“This very night,” said his visitor.
Winderhans trembled.
“Tonight?”
“This very night.”
Winderhlans looked suspiciously at his visitor who smiled.
“How?” he asked.
“On horseback, Professor.”
“You have two horses?”
“No—Morgan will bear us both.”
The Professor was sunk in troubled thought.
“Come decide,” said the Dark Gentleman, should you refuse, as you are the last heir, I shall consider myself the lawful owner by right of treasure trove. By the by, Professor, have you obtained that Stradavarius of 1660 which Issachar—my friend the Rabbi—has offered you for two thousand five hundred dollars?”
The Professor was a passionate lover of the violin. He trembled.
“No,” said he with a cold sweat upon his forehead, “I am too poor.”
“The fact is,” said the Dark Gentleman fingering his ebony wat
ch chain, “the violin is not dear and it is a real Cremona.’
“Genuine—a finer never was made.”
“Yes, I was paying Issachar a visit the other day to pay him some money I owed him on a bond, and I tried my favorite air from ‘Robert Le Diable.’ I was much pleased.”
“It is worth its weight twice over in virgin gold,” said Winderhans turning pale.
“And you can’t buy it?”
“Never.”
“I’m sorry: Paganini, I understand has heard of it, and his agent is now en route with authority to buy it, even if it cost a thousand pounds sterling.”
An icy sweat burst out on the face of Winderhans.
“Paganini! buy my violin!” he murmured.
“My dear friend, it is not yours, permit me to suggest, but the property of that man who is able to pay the price demanded.”
“Paganini,” murmured Winderhans, “a thousand pounds!”
“He will give that.”
“It is worth it.”
“Certainly it is.”
“It is worth two, three, ten thousand!”
“It is a treasure,” said the Gentleman in Black with a mild glance of his fiery eyes.
At this word treasure, uttered by his sombre visitor, Winderhans started.
“What did you say?” said he.
“That it was a treasure—and that the treasure of gold which we were speaking of will enable you to purchase it.”
“Where is it?” said Winderhans, setting his teeth.
“Ah!” replied his visitor laughing noiselessly this time, but apparently with much satisfaction, “that, I am obliged by my want of——cash, for cash buys—yes, by my want of cash, to conceal—hum!”
And the Dark Gentleman looked mysterious.
“I will go. What is your condition?”
“Sign this paper.”
“Why it is Sanscrit.”
“No, it is a patois of Greek and Etruscan which my secretary, Machiavel, made by mistake.”
“What’s this—Psuchay?”
“The Sanscrit for soul, precisely.”
“What about a soul?”
“Is it possible, my dear friend, that you have not yet divined my character? Have you not perceived from my conversation and appearance that I am an eccentric gentleman of large means?”
“Why—hum—as to the eccentric”—
“Ha, ha!” interrupted the Dark Gentleman, “very good! You were about to say that I am eccentric and you were noticing that very beautiful carbuncle on my hat.”
“I was, but you were looking at the parchment. How then in the devil’s name…?”
“Precisely so, my dear Professor,” said the Dark Gentleman, “undoubtedly—beyond mistake.”
The Professor made an angry movement.
“Come finish!” said he, “for as God sees me—”
His visitor started.
“Come, come, Professor,” said he in a troubled tone, and looking around him suspiciously, “no profanity! You shock my moral sense, sir. Let me have no more of these irreverent expressions.”
“My God!” cried Winderhans, nearly puzzled out of his understanding, “what have I done or said?”
The Dark Gentleman trembled and looked indignant.
“Mr. Winderhans,” said he, “I have but one word more to say. If these expressions, which I look upon as highly improper, are repeated, I leave you for ever and carry this paper with me.”
The Professor changed his position hurriedly.
“We were speaking of the Psuchay,” said he.
“Or soul. You are right.”
“What has that parchment with ancient red letters to do with it?”
“It is a jesting compact which I shall request you to sign, giving to the bearer, when he shall demand payment, the possession of your immortal soul.”
The Professor turned pale.
“It is merely a jest,” said his visitor. “Here trace your name at this point. It is nothing.”
Winderhans shrunk back in horror.
“Never,” said he trembling.
“And the Cremona?” said his visitor.
“Oh! Paganini, my Cremona!”
“Come sign.”
“Never, never. Avaunt!”
The Gentleman in Black laughed heartily.
“What do you take me for?” said he; “come change your mind, or if you are unchangeably determined not to sign now, as your eyes tell me, why give me your promise to do so, in case you find the treasure to your liking and you reap the benefit of it.”
This seemed to Winderhans more reasonable and sensible.
“Agreed!” said he with alacrity, his manner changing from horror to a sort of restless excitement.
At the same moment his eyes twinkled with a sudden thought. The Gentleman in Black shrugged his shoulders and only said,
“Come, then, Professor, we really have no time to lose.” Then with a mocking smile he added, “No, it is useless—leave that Bible behind. We shall not want it!”
CHAPTER III.
A NIGHT RIDE WITH THE GENTLEMAN IN BLACK.
They thereupon issued forth and stood upon the hill. It was a clear moon-light night, and the beams lay like an ocean of light on the innumerable roofs—the night wind stirred the thick leaves of the elms and poplars—and the roar of the falls but slightly softened by the distance came distinctly and musically to the ear.
Far off a glimpse was caught of the rock-ribbed stream, and a solitary light gleaming from Belle Isle, to the Professor’s imagination resembled a lonely Cyclopean eye, whose gigantic possessor reclined at full length in the river’s bed, and disturbed the silence with a continuous grumbling and murmuring.
On the second descent stood a coal black horse of enormous size, who tossed his head, pawed the earth, and neighed impatiently. Near him lay crouched, as if to spring on and worry him, the black fiery-eyed dog.
“Morgan is impatient,” said the Dark Gentleman; “he was not used to being made to wait.”
“When?” said Winderhans.
“During his former life. Pythagorean you see, Professor!”
This was said with a laugh which somehow chilled the Professor’s blood—it was so ironical and sarcastic. Then it had a far away, absent sound, so to speak, as if the cause of laughter and the laugher were at a great distance.
They reached the vicious animal, and the Dark Gentleman laying his hand on his back, the horse shrunk and trembled as if he had been touched by a hot iron.
But they had no sooner mounted—the Dark Gentleman insisting with much politeness that Winderhans should sit before on the seat of honour—than the black horse started at a furious, but horrible to say, a perfectly noiseless gallop.
As they neared the iron gate a gust of wind happened to blow it back on its rusty hinges, and they passed through like a meteor.
Through the streets like a shadow!—on the banks of the river!—plunging through its waves!—all was the work of a moment! Winderhans found himself embraced by two iron arms, a hairy thong whistled round his ears as it rose from the horse’s flank and again descended, and the Black Dog ran and swam with fiery eyes at his side. One thing he observed more especially—that the horse and the dog both made violent efforts to drink large draughts of the water; but the Dark Gentleman restrained the first by his chain bridle, and the dog by a single warning look.
Some are of opinion that the spot at which the Gentleman in Black on that night halted, was the old house above Manchester, which to this day is called the “Haunted House” for that very reason—but this we have reason to consider a mistake, as Captain Kyd would scarcely have gone so far from shore to bury his gold.
Wheresoever it may have been, however—on the lofty hill or the sloping bank, amid rugged rocks or sandy coves, which are here scattered all along the rush-clad shores—they certainly came to a halt at last.
And that night strange scenes were enacted and strange rites performed;—and at dawn Winderhans returne
d home weighed down with a heavy burden which his cloak concealed from view.
Behind him walked the Black Dog.
CHAPTER IV,
WINDERHANS BUYS HIS VIOLIN.
On the following day Winderhans called on Issachar the Jew, who inhabited one of the most dingily picturesque mansions in the beautiful and salubrious quarter of the Old Market.
He demanded with a cheerful look, and in a gay tone, a sight of the “Cremona.” The Rabbin, who was glad to have a friend among the Government officers, hastened to obey. First he took firom his girdle a key which he inserted into the lock of a wall-closet, which opening disclosed an oblong box of iron-bound oak. This in turn was opened, and from an ebony case bound with silver bands, the Rabbin with great care raised the antiquely-shaped violin.
Winderhans trembled with joy. He took it—grasped the bow, and struck up the Si cerca se dice of Pergolese.
The Rabbint listened with feigned or real ecstasy.
“It is unharmed,” said the Professor.
This being settled, Winderhans after much circling round the subject, began to bid. The Jew called on Moses, Eli, Jacob and other venerable characters of antiquity to witness his assertions. Winderhans persisted. At length, at the end of three hours, the negotiation was ended by Winderhans paying into Issachar’s hands, in ancient coin of Spanish stamp, the good and lawful sum of $2,000.
Then seizing his prize he clasped it in his arms, kissed the image of the Virgin on its handle, and striking its rich strings ravished the Rabbin again with its delicious melody.
As he proceeded the musician’s soul was rapt in the harmony, his eyes melted or fired, his long and mobile fingers played over the strings like lightning.
The Rabbin clasped his hands in ecstasy.
The Professor stopped. A radiant look of joy shone on his features.
“It ish a vicious dog you has Mynheer von Winderhans.”
“The devil!” said Winderhans, suddenly letting fall his hands. “D—n that dog.”
“Look—look! he ish hide his head: he ish laughing,” said the Rabbin.
Winderhans made a kick at the dog, who offered no resistance, and in doing so stumbled and fell. Issachar caught the Cremona as it was about to touch the floor. The dog disappeared with a bound.
The Second Macabre Megapack Page 46