CHAPTER XVII--THE DESPATCH-BOX
The doctor had scarce finished his meal before he hastened with an
apology to attend upon his patient; and almost immediately after I
was myself summoned and ushered up the great staircase and along
interminable corridors to the bedside of my great-uncle the Count.
You are to think that up to the present moment I had not set eyes
on this formidable personage, only on the evidences of his wealth
and kindness. You are to think besides that I had heard him
miscalled and abused from my earliest childhood up. The first of
the emigres could never expect a good word in the society in which
my father moved. Even yet the reports I received were of a
doubtful nature; even Romaine had drawn of him no very amiable
portrait; and as I was ushered into the room, it was a critical eye
that I cast on my great-uncle. He lay propped on pillows in a
little cot no greater than a camp-bed, not visibly breathing. He
was about eighty years of age, and looked it; not that his face was
much lined, but all the blood and colour seemed to have faded from
his body, and even his eyes, which last he kept usually closed as
though the light distressed him. There was an unspeakable degree
of slyness in his expression, which kept me ill at ease; he seemed
to lie there with his arms folded, like a spider waiting for prey.
His speech was very deliberate and courteous, but scarce louder
than a sigh.
'I bid you welcome, Monsieur le Vicomte Anne,' said he, looking at
me hard with his pale eyes, but not moving on his pillows. 'I have
sent for you, and I thank you for the obliging expedition you have
shown. It is my misfortune that I cannot rise to receive you. I
trust you have been reasonably well entertained?'
'Monsieur mon oncle,' I said, bowing very low, 'I am come at the
summons of the head of my family.'
'It is well,' he said. 'Be seated. I should be glad to hear some
news--if that can be called news that is already twenty years old--
of how I have the pleasure to see you here.'
By the coldness of his address, not more than by the nature of the
times that he bade me recall, I was plunged in melancholy. I felt
myself surrounded as with deserts of friendlessness, and the
delight of my welcome was turned to ashes in my mouth.
'That is soon told, monseigneur,' said I. 'I understand that I
need tell you nothing of the end of my unhappy parents? It is only
the story of the lost dog.'
'You are right. I am sufficiently informed of that deplorable
affair; it is painful to me. My nephew, your father, was a man who
would not be advised,' said he. 'Tell me, if you please, simply of
yourself.'
'I am afraid I must run the risk of harrowing your sensibility in
the beginning,' said I, with a bitter smile, 'because my story
begins at the foot of the guillotine. When the list came out that
night, and her name was there, I was already old enough, not in
years but in sad experience, to understand the extent of my
misfortune. She--' I paused. 'Enough that she arranged with a
friend, Madame de Chasserades, that she should take charge of me,
and by the favour of our jailers I was suffered to remain in the
shelter of the Abbaye. That was my only refuge; there was no
corner of France that I could rest the sole of my foot upon except
the prison. Monsieur le Comte, you are as well aware as I can be
what kind of a life that was, and how swiftly death smote in that
society. I did not wait long before the name of Madame de
Chasserades succeeded to that of my mother on the list. She passed
me on to Madame de Noytot; she, in her turn, to Mademoiselle de
Braye; and there were others. I was the one thing permanent; they
were all transient as clouds; a day or two of their care, and then
came the last farewell and--somewhere far off in that roaring Paris
that surrounded us--the bloody scene. I was the cherished one, the
last comfort, of these dying women. I have been in pitched fights,
my lord, and I never knew such courage. It was all done smiling,
in the tone of good society; belle maman was the name I was taught
to give to each; and for a day or two the new "pretty mamma" would
make much of me, show me off, teach me the minuet, and to say my
prayers; and then, with a tender embrace, would go the way of her
predecessors, smiling. There were some that wept too. There was a
childhood! All the time Monsieur de Culemberg kept his eye on me,
and would have had me out of the Abbaye and in his own protection,
but my "pretty mammas" one after another resisted the idea. Where
could I be safer? they argued; and what was to become of them
without the darling of the prison? Well, it was soon shown how
safe I was! The dreadful day of the massacre came; the prison was
overrun; none paid attention to me, not even the last of my "pretty
mammas," for she had met another fate. I was wandering distracted,
when I was found by some one in the interests of Monsieur de
Culemberg. I understand he was sent on purpose; I believe, in
order to reach the interior of the prison, he had set his hand to
nameless barbarities: such was the price paid for my worthless,
whimpering little life! He gave me his hand; it was wet, and mine
was reddened; he led me unresisting. I remember but the one
circumstance of my flight--it was my last view of my last pretty
mamma. Shall I describe it to you?' I asked the Count, with a
sudden fierceness.
'Avoid unpleasant details,' observed my great-uncle gently.
At these words a sudden peace fell upon me. I had been angry with
the man before; I had not sought to spare him; and now, in a
moment, I saw that there was nothing to spare. Whether from
natural heartlessness or extreme old age, the soul was not at home;
and my benefactor, who had kept the fire lit in my room for a month
past--my only relative except Alain, whom I knew already to be a
hired spy--had trodden out the last sparks of hope and interest.
'Certainly,' said I; 'and, indeed, the day for them is nearly over.
I was taken to Monsieur de Culemberg's,--I presume, sir, that you
know the Abbe de Culemberg?'
He indicated assent without opening his eyes.
'He was a very brave and a very learned man--'
'And a very holy one,' said my uncle civilly.
'And a very holy one, as you observe,' I continued. 'He did an
infinity of good, and through all the Terror kept himself from the
guillotine. He brought me up, and gave me such education as I
have. It was in his house in the country at Dammarie, near Melun,
that I made the acquaintance of your agent, Mr. Vicary, who lay
there in hiding, only to fall a victim at the last to a gang of
chauffeurs.'
'That poor Mr. Vicary!' observed my uncle. 'He had been many times
in my interests to France, and this was his first failure. Quel
charmant homme, n'est-ce pas?'
'Infinitely so,' said I. 'But I would not willingly detain you any
further with a story, the details of which it must naturally be
more or less unpleasant for you to hear. Suffice it that, by M. de
Culemberg's own advice, I said farewell at eighteen to that kind
preceptor and his books, and entered the service of France; and
have since then carried arms in such a manner as not to disgrace my
family.'
'You narrate well; vous aves la voix chaude,' said my uncle,
turning on his pillows as if to study me. 'I have a very good
account of you by Monsieur de Mauseant, whom you helped in Spain.
And you had some education from the Abbe de Culemberg, a man of a
good house? Yes, you will do very well. You have a good manner
and a handsome person, which hurts nothing. We are all handsome in
the family; even I myself, I have had my successes, the memories of
which still charm me. It is my intention, my nephew, to make of
you my heir. I am not very well content with my other nephew,
Monsieur le Vicomte: he has not been respectful, which is the
flattery due to age. And there are other matters.'
I was half tempted to throw back in his face that inheritance so
coldly offered. At the same time I had to consider that he was an
old man, and, after all, my relation; and that I was a poor one, in
considerable straits, with a hope at heart which that inheritance
might yet enable me to realise. Nor could I forget that, however
icy his manners, he had behaved to me from the first with the
extreme of liberality and--I was about to write, kindness, but the
word, in that connection, would not come. I really owed the man
some measure of gratitude, which it would be an ill manner to repay
if I were to insult him on his deathbed.
'Your will, monsieur, must ever be my rule,' said I, bowing.
'You have wit, monsieur mon neveu,' said he, 'the best wit--the wit
of silence. Many might have deafened me with their gratitude.
Gratitude!' he repeated, with a peculiar intonation, and lay and
smiled to himself. 'But to approach what is more important. As a
prisoner of war, will it be possible for you to be served heir to
English estates? I have no idea: long as I have dwelt in England,
I have never studied what they call their laws. On the other hand,
how if Romaine should come too late? I have two pieces of business
to be transacted--to die, and to make my will; and, however
desirous I may be to serve you, I cannot postpone the first in
favour of the second beyond a very few hours.'
'Well, sir, I must then contrive to be doing as I did before,' said
I.
'Not so,' said the Count. 'I have an alternative. I have just
drawn my balance at my banker's, a considerable sum, and I am now
to place it in your hands. It will be so much for you and so much
less--' he paused, and smiled with an air of malignity that
surprised me. 'But it is necessary it should be done before
witnesses. Monsieur le Vicomte is of a particular disposition, and
an unwitnessed donation may very easily be twisted into a theft.'
He touched a bell, which was answered by a man having the
appearance of a confidential valet. To him he gave a key.
'Bring me the despatch-box that came yesterday, La Ferriere,' said
he. 'You will at the same time present my compliments to Dr.
Hunter and M. l'Abbe, and request them to step for a few moments to
my room.'
The despatch-box proved to be rather a bulky piece of baggage,
covered with Russia leather. Before the doctor and an excellent
old smiling priest it was passed over into my hands with a very
clear statement of the disposer's wishes; immediately after which,
though the witnesses remained behind to draw up and sign a joint
note of the transaction, Monsieur de Keroual dismissed me to my own
room, La Ferriere following with the invaluable box.
At my chamber door I took it from him with thanks, and entered
alone. Everything had been already disposed for the night, the
curtains drawn and the fire trimmed; and Rowley was still busy with
my bedclothes. He turned round as I entered with a look of welcome
that did my heart good. Indeed, I had never a much greater need of
human sympathy, however trivial, than at that moment when I held a
fortune in my arms. In my uncle's room I had breathed the very
atmosphere of disenchantment. He had gorged my pockets; he had
starved every dignified or affectionate sentiment of a man. I had
received so chilling an impression of age and experience that the
mere look of youth drew me to confide in Rowley: he was only a
boy, his heart must beat yet, he must still retain some innocence
and natural feelings, he could blurt out follies with his mouth, he
was not a machine to utter perfect speech! At the same time, I was
beginning to outgrow the painful impressions of my interview; my
spirits were beginning to revive; and at the jolly, empty looks of
Mr. Rowley, as he ran forward to relieve me of the box, St. Ives
became himself again.
'Now, Rowley, don't be in a hurry,' said I. 'This is a momentous
juncture. Man and boy, you have been in my service about three
hours. You must already have observed that I am a gentleman of a
somewhat morose disposition, and there is nothing that I more
dislike than the smallest appearance of familiarity. Mr. Pole or
Mr. Powl, probably in the spirit of prophecy, warned you against
this danger.'
'Yes, Mr. Anne,' said Rowley blankly.
'Now there has just arisen one of those rare cases, in which I am
willing to depart from my principles. My uncle has given me a box-
-what you would call a Christmas box. I don't know what's in it,
and no more do you: perhaps I am an April fool, or perhaps I am
already enormously wealthy; there might be five hundred pounds in
this apparently harmless receptacle!'
'Lord, Mr. Anne!' cried Rowley.
'Now, Rowley, hold up your right hand and repeat the words of the
oath after me,' said I, laying the despatch-box on the table.
'Strike me blue if I ever disclose to Mr. Powl, or Mr. Powl's
Viscount, or anything that is Mr. Powl's, not to mention Mr. Dawson
and the doctor, the treasures of the following despatch-box; and
strike me sky-blue scarlet if I do not continually maintain,
uphold, love, honour and obey, serve, and follow to the four
corners of the earth and the waters that are under the earth, the
hereinafter before-mentioned (only that I find I have neglected to
mention him) Viscount Anne de Keroual de St.-Yves, commonly known
as Mr. Rowley's Viscount. So be it. Amen.'
He took the oath with the same exaggerated seriousness as I gave it
to him.
'Now,' said I. 'Here is the key for you; I will hold the lid with
both hands in the meanwhile.' He turned the key. 'Bring up all
the candles in the room, and range them along-side. What is it to
be? A live gorgon, a Jack-in-the-box, or a spring that fires a
pistol? On your knees, sir, before the prodigy!'
So saying, I turned the despatch-box upside down upon the table.
At sight of the heap of bank paper and gold that lay in front of
us, between the candles, or rolled upon the floor alongside, I
stood astonished.
'O Lord!' cried Mr. Rowley; 'oh Lordy, Lordy, Lord!' and he
scrambled after the fallen guineas. 'O my, Mr. Anne! what a sight
o' money! Why, it's like a blessed story-book. It's like the
Forty Thieves.'
'Now Rowley, let's be cool, let's be businesslike,' said I.
'Riches are deceitful, particularly when you haven't counted them;
and the first thing we have to do is to arrive at the amount of my-
-let me say, modest competency. If I'm not mistaken, I have enough
here to keep you in gold buttons all the rest of your life. You
collect the gold, and I'll take the paper.'
Accordingly, down we sat together on the hearthrug, and for some
time there was no sound but the creasing of bills and the jingling
of guineas, broken occasionally by the exulting exclamations of
Rowley. The arithmetical operation on which we were embarked took
long, and it might have been tedious to others; not to me nor to my
helper.
'Ten thousand pounds!' I announced at last.
'Ten thousand!' echoed Mr. Rowley.
And we gazed upon each other.
The greatness of this fortune took my breath away. With that sum
in my hands, I need fear no enemies. People are arrested, in nine
cases out of ten, not because the police are astute, but because
they themselves run short of money; and I had here before me in the
despatch-box a succession of devices and disguises that insured my
liberty. Not only so; but, as I felt with a sudden and
overpowering thrill, with ten thousand pounds in my hands I was
become an eligible suitor. What advances I had made in the past,
as a private soldier in a military prison, or a fugitive by the
wayside, could only be qualified or, indeed, excused as acts of
desperation. And now, I might come in by the front door; I might
approach the dragon with a lawyer at my elbow, and rich settlements
to offer. The poor French prisoner, Champdivers, might be in a
perpetual danger of arrest; but the rich travelling Englishman,
St.-Ives, in his post-chaise, with his despatch-box by his side,
could smile at fate and laugh at locksmiths. I repeated the
proverb, exulting, Love laughs at locksmiths! In a moment, by the
mere coming of this money, my love had become possible--it had come
near, it was under my hand--and it may be by one of the curiosities
of human nature, but it burned that instant brighter.
'Rowley,' said I, 'your Viscount is a made man.'
'Why, we both are, sir,' said Rowley.
'Yes, both,' said I; 'and you shall dance at the wedding;' and I
flung at his head a bundle of bank notes, and had just followed it
up with a handful of guineas, when the door opened, and Mr. Romaine
appeared upon the threshold.
