THE SUPERFLUOUS MANSION (Concluded)
Somerset ran straight upstairs; the door of the drawing-room,
contrary to all custom, was unlocked; and bursting in, the young
man found Zero seated on a sofa in an attitude of singular
dejection. Close beside him stood an untasted grog, the mark of
strong preoccupation. The room besides was in confusion: boxes
had been tumbled to and fro; the floor was strewn with keys and
other implements; and in the midst of this disorder lay a lady's
glove.
'I have come,' cried Somerset, 'to make an end of this. Either you
will instantly abandon all your schemes, or (cost what it may) I
will denounce you to the police.'
'Ah!' replied Zero, slowly shaking his head. 'You are too late,
dear fellow! I am already at the end of all my hopes, and fallen
to be a laughing-stock and mockery. My reading,' he added, with a
gentle despondency of manner, 'has not been much among romances;
yet I recall from one a phrase that depicts my present state with
critical exactitude; and you behold me sitting here "like a burst
drum."'
'What has befallen you?' cried Somerset.
'My last batch,' returned the plotter wearily, 'like all the
others, is a hollow mockery and a fraud. In vain do I combine the
elements; in vain adjust the springs; and I have now arrived at
such a pitch of disconsideration that (except yourself, dear
fellow) I do not know a soul that I can face. My subordinates
themselves have turned upon me. What language have I heard to-day,
what illiberality of sentiment, what pungency of expression! She
came once; I could have pardoned that, for she was moved; but she
returned, returned to announce to me this crushing blow; and,
Somerset, she was very inhumane. Yes, dear fellow, I have drunk a
bitter cup; the speech of females is remarkable for . . . well,
well! Denounce me, if you will; you but denounce the dead. I am
extinct. It is strange how, at this supreme crisis of my life, I
should be haunted by quotations from works of an inexact and even
fanciful description; but here,' he added, 'is another: "Othello's
occupation's gone." Yes, dear Somerset, it is gone; I am no more a
dynamiter; and how, I ask you, after having tasted of these joys,
am I to condescend to a less glorious life?'
'I cannot describe how you relieve me,' returned Somerset, sitting
down on one of several boxes that had been drawn out into the
middle of the floor. 'I had conceived a sort of maudlin toleration
for your character; I have a great distaste, besides, for anything
in the nature of a duty; and upon both grounds, your news delights
me. But I seem to perceive,' he added, 'a certain sound of ticking
in this box.'
'Yes,' replied Zero, with the same slow weariness of manner, 'I
have set several of them going.'
'My God!' cried Somerset, bounding to his feet.
'Machines?'
'Machines!' returned the plotter bitterly. 'Machines indeed! I
blush to be their author. Alas!' he said, burying his face in his
hands, 'that I should live to say it!'
'Madman!' cried Somerset, shaking him by the arm. 'What am I to
understand? Have you, indeed, set these diabolical contrivances in
motion? and do we stay here to be blown up?'
'"Hoist with his own petard?"' returned the plotter musingly. 'One
more quotation: strange! But indeed my brain is struck with
numbness. Yes, dear boy, I have, as you say, put my contrivance in
motion. The one on which you are sitting, I have timed for half an
hour. Yon other--'
'Half an hour!--' echoed Somerset, dancing with trepidation.
'Merciful Heavens, in half an hour?'
'Dear fellow, why so much excitement?' inquired Zero. 'My dynamite
is not more dangerous than toffy; had I an only child, I would give
it him to play with. You see this brick?' he continued, lifting a
cake of the infernal compound from the laboratory-table. 'At a
touch it should explode, and that with such unconquerable energy as
should bestrew the square with ruins. Well now, behold! I dash it
on the floor.'
Somerset sprang forward, and with the strength of the very ecstasy
of terror, wrested the brick from his possession. 'Heavens!' he
cried, wiping his brow; and then with more care than ever mother
handled her first-born withal, gingerly transported the explosive
to the far end of the apartment: the plotter, his arms once more
fallen to his side, dispiritedly watching him.
'It was entirely harmless,' he sighed. 'They describe it as
burning like tobacco.'
'In the name of fortune,' cried Somerset, 'what have I done to you,
or what have you done to yourself, that you should persist in this
insane behaviour? If not for your own sake, then for mine, let us
depart from this doomed house, where I profess I have not the heart
to leave you; and then, if you will take my advice, and if your
determination be sincere, you will instantly quit this city, where
no further occupation can detain you.'
'Such, dear fellow, was my own design,' replied the plotter. 'I
have, as you observe, no further business here; and once I have
packed a little bag, I shall ask you to share a frugal meal, to go
with me as far as to the station, and see the last of a broken-
hearted man. And yet,' he added, looking on the boxes with a
lingering regret, 'I should have liked to make quite certain. I
cannot but suspect my underlings of some mismanagement; it may be
fond, but yet I cherish that idea: it may be the weakness of a man
of science, but yet,' he cried, rising into some energy, 'I will
never, I cannot if I try, believe that my poor dynamite has had
fair usage!'
'Five minutes!' said Somerset, glancing with horror at the
timepiece. 'If you do not instantly buckle to your bag, I leave
you.'
'A few necessaries,' returned Zero, 'only a few necessaries, dear
Somerset, and you behold me ready.'
He passed into the bedroom, and after an interval which seemed to
draw out into eternity for his unfortunate companion, he returned,
bearing in his hand an open Gladstone bag. His movements were
still horribly deliberate, and his eyes lingered gloatingly on his
dear boxes, as he moved to and fro about the drawing-room,
gathering a few small trifles. Last of all, he lifted one of the
squares of dynamite.
'Put that down!' cried Somerset. 'If what you say be true, you
have no call to load yourself with that ungodly contraband.'
'Merely a curiosity, dear boy,' he said persuasively, and slipped
the brick into his bag; 'merely a memento of the past--ah, happy
past, bright past! You will not take a touch of spirits? no? I
find you very abstemious. Well,' he added, 'if you have really no
curiosity to await the event--'
'I!' cried Somerset. 'My blood boils to get away.'
'Well, then,' said Zero, 'I am ready; I would I could say, willing;
but thus to leave the scene of my sublime endeavours--'
Without further parley, Somerset seized him by the arm, and dragged
him downstairs; the hall-door shut with a clang on the deserted
mansion; and still towing his laggardly companion, the young man
sped across the square in the Oxford Street direction. They had
not yet passed the corner of the garden, when they were arrested by
a dull thud of an extraordinary amplitude of sound, accompanied and
followed by a shattering fracas. Somerset turned in time to see
the mansion rend in twain, vomit forth flames and smoke, and
instantly collapse into its cellars. At the same moment, he was
thrown violently to the ground. His first glance was towards Zero.
The plotter had but reeled against the garden rail; he stood there,
the Gladstone bag clasped tight upon his heart, his whole face
radiant with relief and gratitude; and the young man heard him
murmur to himself: 'Nunc dimittis, nunc dimittis!'
The consternation of the populace was indescribable; the whole of
Golden Square was alive with men, women, and children, running
wildly to and fro, and like rabbits in a warren, dashing in and out
of the house doors. And under favour of this confusion, Somerset
dragged away the lingering plotter.
'It was grand,' he continued to murmur: 'it was indescribably
grand. Ah, green Erin, green Erin, what a day of glory! and oh, my
calumniated dynamite, how triumphantly hast thou prevailed!'
Suddenly a shade crossed his face; and pausing in the middle of the
footway, he consulted the dial of his watch.
'Good God!' he cried, 'how mortifying! seven minutes too early!
The dynamite surpassed my hopes; but the clockwork, fickle
clockwork, has once more betrayed me. Alas, can there be no
success unmixed with failure? and must even this red-letter day be
chequered by a shadow?'
'Incomparable ass!' said Somerset, 'what have you done? Blown up
the house of an unoffending old lady, and the whole earthly
property of the only person who is fool enough to befriend you!'
'You do not understand these matters,' replied Zero, with an air of
great dignity. 'This will shake England to the heart. Gladstone,
the truculent old man, will quail before the pointing finger of
revenge. And now that my dynamite is proved effective--'
'Heavens, you remind me!' ejaculated Somerset. 'That brick in your
bag must be instantly disposed of. But how? If we could throw it
in the river--'
'A torpedo,' cried Zero, brightening, 'a torpedo in the Thames!
Superb, dear fellow! I recognise in you the marks of an
accomplished anarch.'
'True!' returned Somerset. 'It cannot so be done; and there is no
help but you must carry it away with you. Come on, then, and let
me at once consign you to a train.'
'Nay, nay, dear boy,' protested Zero. 'There is now no call for me
to leave. My character is now reinstated; my fame brightens; this
is the best thing I have done yet; and I see from here the ovations
that await the author of the Golden Square Atrocity.'
'My young friend,' returned the other, 'I give you your choice. I
will either see you safe on board a train or safe in gaol.'
'Somerset, this is unlike you!' said the chymist. 'You surprise
me, Somerset.'
'I shall considerably more surprise you at the next police office,'
returned Somerset, with something bordering on rage. 'For on one
point my mind is settled: either I see you packed off to America,
brick and all, or else you dine in prison.'
'You have perhaps neglected one point,' returned the unoffended
Zero: 'for, speaking as a philosopher, I fail to see what means
you can employ to force me. The will, my dear fellow--'
'Now, see here,' interrupted Somerset. 'You are ignorant of
anything but science, which I can never regard as being truly
knowledge; I, sir, have studied life; and allow me to inform you
that I have but to raise my hand and voice--here in this street--
and the mob--'
'Good God in heaven, Somerset,' cried Zero, turning deadly white
and stopping in his walk, 'great God in heaven, what words are
these? Oh, not in jest, not even in jest, should they be used!
The brutal mob, the savage passions . . . . Somerset, for God's
sake, a public-house!'
Somerset considered him with freshly awakened curiosity. 'This is
very interesting,' said he. 'You recoil from such a death?'
'Who would not?' asked the plotter.
'And to be blown up by dynamite,' inquired the young man,
'doubtless strikes you as a form of euthanasia?'
'Pardon me,' returned Zero: 'I own, and since I have braved it
daily in my professional career, I own it even with pride: it is a
death unusually distasteful to the mind of man.'
'One more question,' said Somerset: 'you object to Lynch Law?
why?'
'It is assassination,' said the plotter calmly, but with eyebrows a
little lifted, as in wonder at the question.
'Shake hands with me,' cried Somerset. 'Thank God, I have now no
ill-feeling left; and though you cannot conceive how I burn to see
you on the gallows, I can quite contentedly assist at your
departure.'
'I do not very clearly take your meaning,' said Zero, 'but I am
sure you mean kindly. As to my departure, there is another point
to be considered. I have neglected to supply myself with funds; my
little all has perished in what history will love to relate under
the name of the Golden Square Atrocity; and without what is
coarsely if vigorously called stamps, you must be well aware it is
impossible for me to pass the ocean.'
'For me,' said Somerset, 'you have now ceased to be a man. You
have no more claim upon me than a door scraper; but the touching
confusion of your mind disarms me from extremities. Until to-day,
I always thought stupidity was funny; I now know otherwise; and
when I look upon your idiot face, laughter rises within me like a
deadly sickness, and the tears spring up into my eyes as bitter as
blood. What should this portend? I begin to doubt; I am losing
faith in scepticism. Is it possible,' he cried, in a kind of
horror of himself--'is it conceivable that I believe in right and
wrong? Already I have found myself, with incredulous surprise, to
be the victim of a prejudice of personal honour. And must this
change proceed? Have you robbed me of my youth? Must I fall, at
my time of life, into the Common Banker? But why should I address
that head of wood? Let this suffice. I dare not let you stay
among women and children; I lack the courage to denounce you, if by
any means I may avoid it; you have no money: well then, take mine,
and go; and if ever I behold your face after to-day, that day will
be your last.'
'Under the circumstances,' replied Zero, 'I scarce see my way to
refuse your offer. Your expressions may pain, they cannot surprise
me; I am aware our point of view requires a little training, a
little moral hygiene, if I may so express it; and one of the points
that has always charmed me in your character is this delightful
frankness. As for the small advance, it shall be remitted you from
Philadelphia.'
'It shall not,' said Somerset.
'Dear fellow, you do not understand,' returned the plotter. 'I
shall now be received with fresh confidence by my superiors; and my
experiments will be no longer hampered by pitiful conditions of the
purse.'
'What I am now about, sir, is a crime,' replied Somerset; 'and were
you to roll in wealth like Vanderbilt, I should scorn to be
reimbursed of money I had so scandalously misapplied. Take it, and
keep it. By George, sir, three days of you have transformed me to
an ancient Roman.'
With these words, Somerset hailed a passing hansom; and the pair
were driven rapidly to the railway terminus. There, an oath having
been exacted, the money changed hands.
'And now,' said Somerset, 'I have bought back my honour with every
penny I possess. And I thank God, though there is nothing before
me but starvation, I am free from all entanglement with Mr. Zero
Pumpernickel Jones.'
'To starve?' cried Zero. 'Dear fellow, I cannot endure the
thought.'
'Take your ticket!' returned Somerset.
'I think you display temper,' said Zero.
'Take your ticket,' reiterated the young man.
'Well,' said the plotter, as he returned, ticket in hand, 'your
attitude is so strange and painful, that I scarce know if I should
ask you to shake hands.'
'As a man, no,' replied Somerset; 'but I have no objection to shake
hands with you, as I might with a pump-well that ran poison or
bell-fire.'
'This is a very cold parting,' sighed the dynamiter; and still
followed by Somerset, he began to descend the platform. This was
now bustling with passengers; the train for Liverpool was just
about to start, another had but recently arrived; and the double
tide made movement difficult. As the pair reached the
neighbourhood of the bookstall, however, they came into an open
space; and here the attention of the plotter was attracted by a
Standard broadside bearing the words: 'Second Edition: Explosion
in Golden Square.' His eye lighted; groping in his pocket for the
necessary coin, he sprang forward--his bag knocked sharply on the
corner of the stall--and instantly, with a formidable report, the
dynamite exploded. When the smoke cleared away the stall was seen
much shattered, and the stall keeper running forth in terror from
the ruins; but of the Irish patriot or the Gladstone bag no
adequate remains were to be found.
In the first scramble of the alarm, Somerset made good his escape,
and came out upon the Euston Road, his head spinning, his body sick
with hunger, and his pockets destitute of coin. Yet as he
continued to walk the pavements, he wondered to find in his heart a
sort of peaceful exultation, a great content, a sense, as it were,
of divine presence and the kindliness of fate; and he was able to
tell himself that even if the worst befell, he could now starve
with a certain comfort since Zero was expunged.
Late in the afternoon, he found himself at the door of Mr. Godall's
shop; and being quite unmanned by his long fast, and scarce
considering what he did, he opened the glass door and entered.
'Ha!' said Mr. Godall, 'Mr. Somerset! Well, have you met with an
adventure? Have you the promised story? Sit down, if you please;
suffer me to choose you a cigar of my own special brand; and reward
me with a narrative in your best style.'
'I must not take a cigar,' said Somerset.
'Indeed!' said Mr. Godall. 'But now I come to look at you more
closely, I perceive that you are changed. My poor boy, I hope
there is nothing wrong?'
Somerset burst into tears.
