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WYLDER’S HAND
In the meantime Lake was pushing his popularity among the
gentry with remarkable industry, and with tolerable success. Wealdon’s two little visits explained perfectly the active urbanities of
Captain Stanley Lake.
About three weeks after the appearance of the advertisement
in ‘Galignani,’ one of Mark Wylder’s letters reached Larkin. It was
dated from Geneva(!) and said: –
‘DEAR LARKIN, – I saw my friend Smith here in the café, who
has kept a bright look out, I dare say; and tells me that Captain Stanley Lake is thinking of standing either for the county or for Dollington. I will thank you to apprise him that I mean to take my choice
fi rst; and please hand him the enclosed notice open as you get it;
and, if you please, to let him run his eye also over this note to you,
as I have my own reasons for wishing him to know that you have
seen it.
‘This is all I will probably trouble you about elections for some
months to come, or, at least, weeks. It being time enough when I go
back, and no squalls a-head just now at home, though foreign politics look muggy enough.
‘I have nothing particular at present about tenants or timber,
except the three acres of oak behind Farmer Tanby’s – have it took
down. Thomas Jones and me went over it last September, and it
ought to bring near 3,000 l . I must have a good handful of money
by May next.
‘Yours, my dear Larkin,
‘Very truly,
‘MARK WYLDER.’
Folded in this was a thin slip of foreign paper, on which were
traced these lines: –
‘Private.
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JOSEPH SHERIDAN L E FANU
‘DEAR LARKIN, – Don’t funk the interview with the beast
Lake – a hyaena has no pluck in him. When he reads what I send
him by your hand, he’ll be as mild as you please. Parkes must act for
me as usual – no bluster about giving up. Lake’s afraid of yours,
‘M. W.’
Within was what he called his ‘notice’ to Stanley Lake, and it was
thus conceived: –
‘Private.
‘DEAR LAKE – I understand you are trying to make all safe for
next election in Dollington or the county. Now, understand at once,
that I won’t permit that. There is not a country gentleman on the
grand jury who is not your superior; and there is no extremity I will
not make you feel – and you know what I mean – if you dare despise this fi rst and not unfriendly warning.
‘Yours truly,
‘MARK WYLDER.’
Now there certainly was need of Wylder’s assurance that nothing unpleasant should happen to the conscious bearer of such
a message to an offi cer and a gentleman. Jos. Larkin did not like it.
Still there was a confi dence in his own conciliatory manners and exquisite tact. Something, too, might be learned by noting Lake’s looks,
demeanour, and language under this direct communication from
the man to whom his relations were so mysterious.
Larkin looked at his watch; it was about the hour when he was
likely to fi nd Lake in his study. The attorney withdrew the little private enclosure, and slipt it, with a brief endorsement, into the neat
sheaf of Wylder’s letters, all similarly noted, and so locked it up in
the iron safe. He intended being perfectly ingenuous with Lake, and
showing him that he had ‘no secrets – no concealments – all open
as the day’ – by producing the letter in which the ‘notice’ was enclosed, and submitting it for Captain Lake’s perusal.
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WYLDER’S HAND
When Lawyer Larkin reached the dim chamber, with the Dutch
tapestries, where he had for a little while to await Captain Lake’s
leisure, he began to anticipate the scene now so immediately impending more uncomfortably than before. The ‘notice’ was, indeed,
so outrageous in its spirit, and so intolerable in its language, that,
knowing something of Stanley’s wild and truculent temper, he began to feel a little nervous about the explosion he was about to provoke.
The Brandon connection, one way or other, was worth to the
attorney in hard cash between fi ve and six hundred a-year. In infl uence, and what is termed ‘position,’ it was, of course, worth a great
deal more. It would be a very serious blow to lose this. He did not, he
hoped, care for money more than a good man ought; but such a loss,
he would say, he could not afford.
Precisely the same, however, was to be said of his connection
with Mark Wylder; and in fact, of late years, Mr. Jos. Larkin, of the
Lodge, had begun to put by money so fast that he was growing rapidly to be a very considerable man indeed. ‘Everything,’ as he said,
‘was doing very nicely;’ and it would be a deplorable thing to mar,
by any untoward act, this pilgrim’s quiet and prosperous progress.
In this stage of his reverie he was interrupted by a tall, powdered
footman, in the Brandon livery, who came respectfully to announce
that his master desired to see Mr. Larkin.
Larkin’s soul sneered at this piece of state. Why could he not put
his head in at the door and call him? But still I think it impressed
him, and that, diplomatically, Captain Lake was in the right to environ himself with the ceremonial of a lord of Brandon.
‘Well, Larkin, how d’ye do? Anything about Raikes’s lease?’ said
the great Captain Lake, rising from behind his desk, with his accustomed smile, and extending his gentlemanlike hand.
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JOSEPH SHERIDAN L E FANU
‘No, Sir – nothing, Captain Lake. He has not come, and I don’t
think we should show any anxiety about it,’ replied the attorney, taking the captain’s thin hand rather deferentially. ‘I’ve had – a – such
a letter from my – my client, Mr. Mark Wylder. He writes in a violent passion, and I’m really placed in a most disagreeable position.’
‘Won’t you sit down?’
‘A – thanks – a – well I thought, on the whole, having received
the letter and the enclosure, which I must say very much surprises me – very much indeed.’ And Larkin looked reprovingly on an
imaginary Mark Wylder, and shook his head a good deal.
‘He has not appointed another man of business?’
‘Oh, dear, no,’ said Larkin, quickly, with a faint, supercilious smile.
‘No, nothing of that kind. The thing – in fact, there has been some
gossiping fellow. Do you happen to know a person at all versed in
Gylingden matters – or, perhaps, a member of your club – named
Smith?’
‘Smith? I don’t, I think, recollect any particular Smith, just at this
moment. And what is Smith doing or saying?’
‘Why, he has been talking over election matters. It seems
Wylder – Mr. Wylder – has met him in Geneva, from whence he
dates; and he says – he says – oh, here’s the letter, and you’ll see it
all there.’
He handed it to Lake, and kept his eye on him while he read it.
When he saw that Lake, who bit his lip during the perusal, had come
to the end, by his glancing up again at the date, Larkin murmured –
‘Something, you see, has gone wrong with him. I can’t account
for the temper otherwise – so violent.’
‘Quite so,’ said Lake, quietly; ‘and where is the notice he speaks
of here?’
‘Why, really, Captain Lake, I did not very well know, it is
such a production – I could not say whether you would wish it
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WYLDER’S HAND
presented; and in any case you will do me the justice to understand
that I, for my part – I really don’t know how to speak of it.
‘Quite so,’ repeated Lake, softly, taking the thin, neatly folded
piece of paper which Larkin, with a sad inclination of his body,
handed to him.
Lake, under the ‘lawyer’s’ small, vigilant eyes, quietly read Mark
Wylder’s awful threatenings through, twice over, and Larkin was
not quite sure whether there was any change of countenance to
speak of as he did so.
‘This is dated the 29th,’ said Lake, in the same quiet tone; ‘perhaps you will be so good as to write a line across it, stating the date
of your handing it to me.’
‘I – of course – I can see no objection. I may mention, I suppose,
that I do so at your request.’
And Larkin made a neat little endorsement to that effect, and he
felt relieved. The hyaena certainly was not showing fi ght.
‘And now, Mr. Larkin, you’ll admit, I think, that I’ve exhibited no
ill-temper, much less violence, under the provocation of that note.’
‘Certainly; none whatever, Captain Lake.’
‘And you will therefore perceive that whatever I now say, speaking in cool blood, I am not likely to recede from.’
Lawyer Larkin bowed.
‘And may I particularly ask that you will so attend to what I am
about to say, as to be able to make a note of it for Mr. Welder’s consideration?’
‘Certainly, if you desire; but I wish to say that in this particular
matter I beg it may be clearly understood that Mr. Wylder is in no
respect more my client than you, Captain Lake, and that I merely act
as a most reluctant messenger in the matter.’
‘Just so,’ said Captain Lake.
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JOSEPH SHERIDAN L E FANU
‘Now, as to my thinking of representing either county or borough,’ he resumed, after a little pause, holding Mark Wylder’s ‘notice’ between his fi nger and thumb, and glancing at it from time to
time, as a speaker might at his notes, ‘I am just as well qualifi ed as he
in every respect; and if it lies between him and me, I will undoubtedly offer myself, and accompany my address with the publication of
this precious document which he calls his notice – the composition,
in all respects, of a ruffi an – and which will inspire every gentleman
who reads it with disgust, abhorrence, and contempt. His threat
I don’t understand. I despise his machinations. I defy him utterly;
and the time is coming when, in spite of his manoeuvring, I’ll drive
him into a corner and pin him to the wall. He very well knows that
fl itting and skulking from place to place, like an escaped convict, he
is safe in writing what insults he pleases through the post. I can’t
tell how or where to fi nd him. He is not only no gentleman, but no
man – a coward as well as a ruffi an. But his game of hide-and-seek
cannot go on for ever; and when next I can lay my hand upon him,
I’ll make him eat that paper on his knees, and place my heel upon
his neck.’
The peroration of this peculiar invective was emphasised by an
oath, at which the half-dozen short grizzled hairs that surmounted
the top of Mr. Jos. Larkin’s shining bald head no doubt stood up in
silent appeal.
The attorney was standing during this sample of Lake’s parliamentary rhetoric a little fl ushed, for he did not know the moment when a blue fl icker from the rhetorical thunder-storm might
splinter his own bald head, and for ever end his connection with
Brandon.
There was a silence, during which pale Captain Lake locked up Mark
Wylder’s warning, and the attorney twice cleared his voice.
‘I need hardly say, Captain Lake, how I feel in this business. I – ‘
346
WYLDER’S HAND
‘Quite so,’ said the captain, in his soft low tones. ‘I assure you I altogether acquit you of sympathy with any thing so utterly ruffi anly,’
and he took the hand of the relieved attorney with a friendly condescension. ‘The only compensation I exact for your involuntary part
in the matter is that you distinctly convey the tenor of my language
to Mr. Wylder, on the fi rst occasion on which he affords you an opportunity of communicating with him. And as to my ever again acting as his trustee; – though, yes, I forgot’ – he made a sudden pause,
and was lost for a minute in annoyed refl ection – ‘yes, I must for
a while. It can’t last very long; he must return soon, and I can’t well
refuse to act until at least some other arrangement is made. There
are quite other persons and I can’t allow them to starve.’
So saying, he rose, with his peculiar smile, and extended his
hand to signify that the conference was at an end.
‘And I suppose,’ he said, ‘we are to regard this little conversation,
for the present, as confi dential?’
‘Certainly, Captain Lake, and permit me to say that I fully appreciate the just and liberal construction which you have placed upon
my conduct – a construction which a party less candid and honourably-minded than yourself might have failed to favour me with.’
And with this pretty speech Larkin took his hat, and gracefully
withdrew.
CHAPTER XLVIII
IN WHICH I GO TO BRANDON,
AND SEE AN OLD
ACQUAINTANCE
IN THE TAPESTRY ROOM
To my surprise, a large letter, bearing the Gylingden postmark,
and with a seal as large as a fl orin, showing, had I examined the heraldry, the Brandon arms with the Lake bearings quartered thereon,
and proving to be a very earnest invitation from Stanley Lake, found
me in London just about this time.
I paused, I was doubtful about accepting it, for the business of
the season was just about to commence in earnest, and the country
had not yet assumed its charms. But I now know very well that from
the fi rst it was quite settled that down I should go. I was too curious
to see the bride in her new relations, and to observe something of
the conjugal administration of Lake, to allow anything seriously to
stand in the way of my proposed trip.
There was a postscript to Lake’s letter which might have opened
my eyes as to the motives of this pressing invitation, which I pleased
myself by thinking, though penned by Captain Lake, came in reality
from his beautiful young bride.
This small appendix was thus conceived: –
‘P.S. – Tom Wealdon, as usual, deep in elections, under the rose,
begs you kindly to bring down whatever you think to be the best
348
WYLDER’S HAND
book or books on the subject, and he will remit to your bookseller.
Order them in his name, but bring them down with you.’
So I was a second time going down to Brandon as honorary
counsel, without knowing it. My invitations, I fear, were obtained, if
not under false pretences, at least upon false estimates, and the laity
rated my legal lore too highly.
I reached Brandon rather late. The bride had retired for the
night. I had a very late dinner – in fact a supper – in the parlour.
Lake sat with me chatting, rather cleverly, not pleasantly. Wealdon
was at Brandon about sessions business, and as usual full of election stratagems and calculations. Stanley volunteered to assure me
he had not the faintest idea of looking for a constituency. I really
believe – and at this distance of time I may use strong language in
a historical sense – that Captain Lake was the greatest liar I ever encountered with. He seemed to do it without a purpose – by instinct,
or on principle – and would contradict himself solemnly twice or
thrice in a week, without seeming to perceive it. I dare say he lied
always, and about everything. But it was in matters of some moment
that one perceived it.
What object could he gain, for instance, by the fi b he had just
told me? On second thoughts this night he coolly apprised me that
he had some idea of sounding the electors. So, my meal ended, we
went into the tapestry room where, the night being sharp, a pleasant bit of fi re burned in the grate, and Wealdon greeted me.
My journey, though by rail, and as easy as that of the Persian
gentleman who skimmed the air, seated on a piece of carpet, predisposed me to sleep. Such volumes of fi ne and various country air,
and such an eight hours’ procession of all sorts of natural pictures
are not traversed without effect. Sitting in my well-stuffed chair, my
elbows on the cushioned arms, the conversation of Lake and the
Town Clerk now and then grew faint, and their faces faded away,
349
JOSEPH SHERIDAN L E FANU
and little ‘fyttes’ and fragments of those light and pleasant dreams,
like fairy tales, which visit such stolen naps, superseded with their
picturesque and musical illusions the realities and recollections of
life.
Once or twice a nod a little too deep or sudden called me up.
But Lake was busy about the Dollington constituency, and the
Town Clerk’s bluff face was serious and thoughtful. It was the old
question about Rogers, the brewer, and whether Lord Adleston
and Sir William could not get him; or else it had gone on to the
great railway contractor, Dobbs, and the question how many votes
his infl uence was really worth; and, somehow, I never got very far
into the pros and cons of these discussions, which soon subsided
into the fairy tale I have mentioned, and that sweet perpendicular
sleep – all the sweeter, like everything else, for being contraband
and irregular.
For one bout – I fancy a good deal longer than the others – my
nap was much sounder than before, and I opened my eyes at last
with the shudder and half horror that accompany an awakening
from a general chill – a dismal and frightened sensation.
I was facing a door about twenty feet distant, which exactly as
I opened my eyes, turned slowly on its hinges, and the fi gure of Uncle Lorne, in his loose fl annel habiliments, ineffaceably traced upon
my memory, like every other detail of that ill-omened apparition,
glided into the room, and crossing the thick carpet with long, soft
steps, passed near me, looking upon me with a malign sort of curiosity for some two or three seconds, and sat down by the declining fi re,
with a side-long glance still fi xed upon me.
I continued gazing on this fi gure with a dreadful incredulity,
and the indistinct feeling that it must be an illusion – and that if
I could only wake up completely, it would vanish.
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