by Thomas Hardy
At the end of it he moved onward. There was no difficulty in discovering their track northwards; and feeling that he might as well return to England by the Rhine route as by any other, he followed in the course they had chosen, getting scent of them in Strassburg, missing them at Baden by a day, and finally overtaking them at Carlsruhe, which town he reached on the morning after the Power and De Stancy party had taken up their quarters at the ancient inn above mentioned. When Somerset was about to get out of the train at this place, little dreaming what a meaning the word Carlsruhe would have for him in subsequent years, he was disagreeably surprised to see no other than Dare stepping out of the adjoining carriage. A new brown leather valise in one of his hands, a new umbrella in the other, and a new suit of fashionable clothes on his back, seemed to denote considerable improvement in the young man’s fortunes. Somerset was so struck by the circumstance of his being on this spot that he almost missed his opportunity for alighting.
Dare meanwhile had moved on without seeing his former employer, and Somerset resolved to take the chance that offered, and let him go. There was something so mysterious in their common presence simultaneously at one place, five hundred miles from where they had last met, that he exhausted conjecture on whether Dare’s errand this way could have anything to do with his own, or whether their juxtaposition a second time was the result of pure accident. Greatly as he would have liked to get this answered by a direct question to Dare himself, he did not counteract his first instinct, and remained unseen.
They went out in different directions, when Somerset for the first time remembered that, in learning at Baden that the party had flitted towards Carlsruhe, he had taken no care to ascertain the name of the hotel they were bound for. Carlsruhe was not a large place and the point was immaterial, but the omission would necessitate a little inquiry. To follow Dare on the chance of his having fixed upon the same quarters was a course which did not commend itself. He resolved to get some lunch before proceeding with his business — or fatuity — of discovering the elusive lady, and drove off to a neighbouring tavern, which did not happen to be, as he hoped it might, the one chosen by those who had preceded him.
Meanwhile Dare, previously master of their plans, went straight to the house which sheltered them, and on entering under the archway from the Lange-Strasse was saved the trouble of inquiring for Captain De Stancy by seeing him drinking bitters at a little table in the court. Had Somerset chosen this inn for his quarters instead of the one in the Market-Place which he actually did choose, the three must inevitably have met here at this moment, with some possibly striking dramatic results; though what they would have been remains for ever hidden in the darkness of the unfulfilled.
De Stancy jumped up from his chair, and went forward to the new-comer. ‘You are not long behind us, then,’ he said, with laconic disquietude. ‘I thought you were going straight home?’
‘I was,’ said Dare, ‘but I have been blessed with what I may call a small competency since I saw you last. Of the two hundred francs you gave me I risked fifty at the tables, and I have multiplied them, how many times do you think? More than four hundred times.’
De Stancy immediately looked grave. ‘I wish you had lost them,’ he said, with as much feeling as could be shown in a place where strangers were hovering near.
‘Nonsense, captain! I have proceeded purely on a calculation of chances; and my calculations proved as true as I expected, notwithstanding a little in-and-out luck at first. Witness this as the result.’ He smacked his bag with his umbrella, and the chink of money resounded from within. ‘Just feel the weight of it!’
‘It is not necessary. I take your word.’
‘Shall I lend you five pounds?’
‘God forbid! As if that would repay me for what you have cost me! But come, let’s get out of this place to where we can talk more freely.’ He put his hand through the young man’s arm, and led him round the corner of the hotel towards the Schloss-Platz.
‘These runs of luck will be your ruin, as I have told you before,’ continued Captain De Stancy. ‘You will be for repeating and repeating your experiments, and will end by blowing your brains out, as wiser heads than yours have done. I am glad you have come away, at any rate. Why did you travel this way?’
‘Simply because I could afford it, of course. — But come, captain, something has ruffled you to-day. I thought you did not look in the best temper the moment I saw you. Every sip you took of your pick-up as you sat there showed me something was wrong. Tell your worry!’
‘Pooh — I can tell you in two words,’ said the captain satirically. ‘Your arrangement for my wealth and happiness — for I suppose you still claim it to be yours — has fallen through. The lady has announced to-day that she means to send for Somerset instantly. She is coming to a personal explanation with him. So woe to me — and in another sense, woe to you, as I have reason to fear.’
‘Send for him!’ said Dare, with the stillness of complete abstraction. ‘Then he’ll come.’
‘Well,’ said De Stancy, looking him in the face. ‘And does it make you feel you had better be off? How about that telegram? Did he ask you to send it, or did he not?’
‘One minute, or I shall be up such a tree as nobody ever saw the like of.’
‘Then what did you come here for?’ burst out De Stancy. ‘‘Tis my belief you are no more than a — But I won’t call you names; I’ll tell you quite plainly that if there is anything wrong in that message to her — which I believe there is — no, I can’t believe, though I fear it — you have the chance of appearing in drab clothes at the expense of the Government before the year is out, and I of being eternally disgraced!’
‘No, captain, you won’t be disgraced. I am bad to beat, I can tell you. And come the worst luck, I don’t say a word.’
‘But those letters pricked in your skin would say a good deal, it strikes me.’
‘What! would they strip me? — but it is not coming to that. Look here, now, I’ll tell you the truth for once; though you don’t believe me capable of it. I DID concoct that telegram — and sent it; just as a practical joke; and many a worse one has been only laughed at by honest men and officers. I could show you a bigger joke still — a joke of jokes — on the same individual.’
Dare as he spoke put his hand into his breast-pocket, as if the said joke lay there; but after a moment he withdrew his hand empty, as he continued:
‘Having invented it I have done enough; I was going to explain it to you, that you might carry it out. But you are so serious, that I will leave it alone. My second joke shall die with me.’
‘So much the better,’ said De Stancy. ‘I don’t like your jokes, even though they are not directed against myself. They express a kind of humour which does not suit me.’
‘You may have reason to alter your mind,’ said Dare carelessly. ‘Your success with your lady may depend on it. The truth is, captain, we aristocrats must not take too high a tone. Our days as an independent division of society, which holds aloof from other sections, are past. This has been my argument (in spite of my strong Norman feelings) ever since I broached the subject of your marrying this girl, who represents both intellect and wealth — all, in fact, except the historical prestige that you represent. And we mustn’t flinch at things. The case is even more pressing than ordinary cases — owing to the odd fact that the representative of the new blood who has come in our way actually lives in your own old house, and owns your own old lands. The ordinary reason for such alliances is quintupled in our case. Do then just think and be reasonable, before you talk tall about not liking my jokes, and all that. Beggars mustn’t be choosers.’
‘There’s really much reason in your argument,’ said De Stancy, with a bitter laugh: ‘and my own heart argues much the same way. But, leaving me to take care of my aristocratic self, I advise your aristocratic self to slip off at once to England like any hang-gallows dog; and if Somerset is here, and you have been doing wrong in his name, and it all comes out, I�
�ll try to save you, as far as an honest man can. If you have done no wrong, of course there is no fear; though I should be obliged by your going homeward as quickly as possible, as being better both for you and for me.... Hullo — Damnation!’
They had reached one side of the Schloss-Platz, nobody apparently being near them save a sentinel who was on duty before the Palace; but turning as he spoke, De Stancy beheld a group consisting of his sister, Paula, and Mr. Power, strolling across the square towards them.
It was impossible to escape their observation, and putting a bold front upon it, De Stancy advanced with Dare at his side, till in a few moments the two parties met, Paula and Charlotte recognizing Dare at once as the young man who assisted at the castle.
‘I have met my young photographer,’ said De Stancy cheerily. ‘What a small world it is, as everybody truly observes! I am wishing he could take some views for us as we go on; but you have no apparatus with you, I suppose, Mr. Dare?’
‘I have not, sir, I am sorry to say,’ replied Dare respectfully.
‘You could get some, I suppose?’ asked Paula of the interesting young photographer.
Dare declared that it would be not impossible: whereupon De Stancy said that it was only a passing thought of his; and in a few minutes the two parties again separated, going their several ways.
‘That was awkward,’ said De Stancy, trembling with excitement. ‘I would advise you to keep further off in future.’
Dare said thoughtfully that he would be careful, adding, ‘She is a prize for any man, indeed, leaving alone the substantial possessions behind her! Now was I too enthusiastic? Was I a fool for urging you on?’
‘Wait till success justifies the undertaking. In case of failure it will have been anything but wise. It is no light matter to have a carefully preserved repose broken in upon for nothing — a repose that could never be restored!’
They walked down the Carl-Friedrichs-Strasse to the Margrave’s Pyramid, and back to the hotel, where Dare also decided to take up his stay. De Stancy left him with the book-keeper at the desk, and went upstairs to see if the ladies had returned.
CHAPTER IV.
He found them in their sitting-room with their bonnets on, as if they had just come in. Mr. Power was also present, reading a newspaper, but Mrs. Goodman had gone out to a neighbouring shop, in the windows of which she had seen something which attracted her fancy.
When De Stancy entered, Paula’s thoughts seemed to revert to Dare, for almost at once she asked him in what direction the youth was travelling. With some hesitation De Stancy replied that he believed Mr. Dare was returning to England after a spring trip for the improvement of his mind.
‘A very praiseworthy thing to do,’ said Paula. ‘What places has he visited?’
‘Those which afford opportunities for the study of the old masters, I believe,’ said De Stancy blandly. ‘He has also been to Turin, Genoa, Marseilles, and so on.’ The captain spoke the more readily to her questioning in that he divined her words to be dictated, not by any suspicions of his relations with Dare, but by her knowledge of Dare as the draughtsman employed by Somerset.
‘Has he been to Nice?’ she next demanded. ‘Did he go there in company with my architect?’
‘I think not.’
‘Has he seen anything of him? My architect Somerset once employed him. They know each other.’
‘I think he saw Somerset for a short time.’
Paula was silent. ‘Do you know where this young man Dare is at the present moment?’ she asked quickly.
De Stancy said that Dare was staying at the same hotel with themselves, and that he believed he was downstairs.
‘I think I can do no better than send for him,’ said she. ‘He may be able to throw some light upon the matter of that telegram.’
She rang and despatched the waiter for the young man in question, De Stancy almost visibly trembling for the result. But he opened the town directory which was lying on a table, and affected to be engrossed in the names.
Before Dare was shown in she said to her uncle, ‘Perhaps you will speak to him for me?’
Mr. Power, looking up from the paper he was reading, assented to her proposition. Dare appeared in the doorway, and the waiter retired. Dare seemed a trifle startled out of his usual coolness, the message having evidently been unexpected, and he came forward somewhat uneasily.
‘Mr. Dare, we are anxious to know something of Miss Power’s architect; and Captain De Stancy tells us you have seen him lately,’ said Mr. Power sonorously over the edge of his newspaper.
Not knowing whether danger menaced or no, or, if it menaced, from what quarter it was to be expected, Dare felt that honesty was as good as anything else for him, and replied boldly that he had seen Mr. Somerset, De Stancy continuing to cream and mantle almost visibly, in anxiety at the situation of the speaker.
‘And where did you see him?’ continued Mr. Power.
‘In the Casino at Monte Carlo.’
‘How long did you see him?’
‘Only for half an hour. I left him there.’
Paula’s interest got the better of her reserve, and she cut in upon her uncle: ‘Did he seem in any unusual state, or in trouble?’
‘He was rather excited,’ said Dare.
‘And can you remember when that was?’
Dare considered, looked at his pocket-book, and said that it was on the evening of April the twenty-second.
The answer had a significance for Paula, De Stancy, and Charlotte, to which Abner Power was a stranger. The telegraphic request for money, which had been kept a secret from him by his niece, because of his already unfriendly tone towards Somerset, arrived on the morning of the twenty-third — a date which neighboured with painfully suggestive nicety upon that now given by Dare.
She seemed to be silenced, and asked no more questions. Dare having furbished himself up to a gentlemanly appearance with some of his recent winnings, was invited to stay on awhile by Paula’s uncle, who, as became a travelled man, was not fastidious as to company. Being a youth of the world, Dare made himself agreeable to that gentleman, and afterwards tried to do the same with Miss De Stancy. At this the captain, to whom the situation for some time had been amazingly uncomfortable, pleaded some excuse for going out, and left the room.
Dare continued his endeavours to say a few polite nothings to Charlotte De Stancy, in the course of which he drew from his pocket his new silk handkerchief. By some chance a card came out with the handkerchief, and fluttered downwards. His momentary instinct was to make a grasp at the card and conceal it: but it had already tumbled to the floor, where it lay face upward beside Charlotte De Stancy’s chair.
It was neither a visiting nor a playing card, but one bearing a photographic portrait of a peculiar nature. It was what Dare had characterized as his best joke in speaking on the subject to Captain De Stancy: he had in the morning put it ready in his pocket to give to the captain, and had in fact held it in waiting between his finger and thumb while talking to him in the Platz, meaning that he should make use of it against his rival whenever convenient. But his sharp conversation with that soldier had dulled his zest for this final joke at Somerset’s expense, had at least shown him that De Stancy would not adopt the joke by accepting the photograph and using it himself, and determined him to lay it aside till a more convenient time. So fully had he made up his mind on this course, that when the photograph slipped out he did not at first perceive the appositeness of the circumstance, in putting into his own hands the role he had intended for De Stancy; though it was asserted afterwards that the whole scene was deliberately planned. However, once having seen the accident, he resolved to take the current as it served.
The card having fallen beside her, Miss De Stancy glanced over it, which indeed she could not help doing. The smile that had previously hung upon her lips was arrested as if by frost and she involuntarily uttered a little distressed cry of ‘O!’ like one in bodily pain.
Paula, who had been talking to he
r uncle during this interlude, started round, and wondering what had happened, inquiringly crossed the room to poor Charlotte’s side, asking her what was the matter. Charlotte had regained self-possession, though not enough to enable her to reply, and Paula asked her a second time what had made her exclaim like that. Miss De Stancy still seemed confused, whereupon Paula noticed that her eyes were continually drawn as if by fascination towards the photograph on the floor, which, contrary to his first impulse, Dare, as has been said, now seemed in no hurry to regain. Surmising at last that the card, whatever it was, had something to do with the exclamation, Paula picked it up.
It was a portrait of Somerset; but by a device known in photography the operator, though contriving to produce what seemed to be a perfect likeness, had given it the distorted features and wild attitude of a man advanced in intoxication. No woman, unless specially cognizant of such possibilities, could have looked upon it and doubted that the photograph was a genuine illustration of a customary phase in the young man’s private life.
Paula observed it, thoroughly took it in; but the effect upon her was by no means clear. Charlotte’s eyes at once forsook the portrait to dwell on Paula’s face. It paled a little, and this was followed by a hot blush — perceptibly a blush of shame. That was all. She flung the picture down on the table, and moved away.
It was now Mr. Power’s turn. Anticipating Dare, who was advancing with a deprecatory look to seize the photograph, he also grasped it. When he saw whom it represented he seemed both amused and startled, and after scanning it a while handed it to the young man with a queer smile.
‘I am very sorry,’ began Dare in a low voice to Mr. Power. ‘I fear I was to blame for thoughtlessness in not destroying it. But I thought it was rather funny that a man should permit such a thing to be done, and that the humour would redeem the offence.’