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WYLDER’S HAND
with Chubb’s key in his pocket, took his hat and cane – the day was
fi ne – and walked forth for Brandon and the captain’s study.
A pleasant day, a light air, a frosty sun. On the green the vicar,
with his pretty boy by the hand, passed him, not a hundred yards
off, like a ship at sea. There was a waving of hands, and smiles, and
a shouted ‘beautiful day.’
‘What a position that poor fellow has got himself into!’ good Mr.
Larkin thought, with a shrug of compassion, to himself. ‘That reversion! Why it’s nothing – I really don’t know why I think about it at
all. If it were offered me this moment, positively I would not have it.
Anything certain – any thing would be better.’
Little Fairy grew grave, in spite of the attorney’s smiles, whenever he saw him. He was now saying – as holding his ‘Wapsie’s’ hand,
he capered round in front, looking up in his face –
‘Why has Mr. Larkin no teeth when he laughs? Is he ever angry
when he laughs – is he, Wapsie – oh, Wapsie, is he? Would you let
him whip me, if I was naughty? I don’t like him. Why does mamma
say he is a good man, Wapsie?’
‘Because, little man, he is a good man,’ said the vicar, recalled by
the impiety of the question. ‘The best friend that Wapsie ever met
with in his life.’
‘But you would not give me to him, Wapsie?’
‘Give you, darling! no – to no one but to God, my little man; for
richer, for poorer, you’re my own – your Wapsie’s little man.’
And he lifted him up, and carried him in his arms against his
loving heart, and the water stood in his eyes, as he laughed fondly
into that pretty face.
But ‘little man’ by this time was struggling to get down and give
chase to a crow grubbing near them for dainties, with a muddy beak,
and ‘Wapsie’s’ eyes followed, smiling, the wild vagaries of his little
Fairy.
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JOSEPH SHERIDAN L E FANU
In the mean time Mr. Larkin had got among the noble trees
of Brandon, and was approaching the lordly front of the Hall. His
mind was busy. He had not very much fact to go upon. His theories were built chiefl y of vapour, and every changing light or breath,
therefore, altered their colouring and outlines.
‘Maybe Mark Wylder is mad, and wandering in charge of a keeper; maybe he is in some mad doctor’s house, and not mad; maybe in
England, and there writes these letters which are sent from one continental town to another to be posted, and thus the appearance of
locomotion is kept up. Perhaps he has been inveigled into the hands
of ruffi ans, and is living as it were under the vault of an Inquisition, and compelled to write what ever his gaolers dictate. Maybe he
writes not under physical but moral coercion. Be the fact how it may,
those Lakes, brother and sister, have a guilty knowledge of the affair.
‘I will be fi rm – it is my duty to clear this matter up, if I can – we
must do as we would be done by.’
CHAPTER LI
A FRACAS IN THE LIBRARY
It was still early in the day. Larcom received him gravely in the
hall. Captain Lake was at home, as usual, up to one o’clock in the
library – the most diligent administrator that Brandon had perhaps
ever known.
‘Well, Larkin – letters, letters perpetually, you see. Quite well,
I hope? Won’t you sit down – no bad news? You look rather melancholy. Your other client is not ill – nothing sad about Mark Wylder,
I hope?’
‘No – nothing sad, Captain Lake – nothing – but a good deal
that is strange.’
‘Oh, is there?’ said Lake, in his soft tones, leaning forward in his
easy chair, and looking on the shining points of his boots.
‘I have found out a thing, Captain Lake, which will no doubt interest you as much as it does me. It will lead, I think, to a much more
exact guess about Mr. Mark Wylder.’
There was a sturdy emphasis in the attorney’s speech which was
far from usual, and indicated something.
‘Oh! you have? May one hear it?’ said Lake, in the same silken
tone, and looking down, as before, on his boots.
‘I’ve discovered something about his letters,’ said the attorney,
and paused.
‘Satisfactory, I hope?’ said Lake as before.
‘Foul play, Sir.’
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JOSEPH SHERIDAN L E FANU
‘Foul play – is there? What is he doing now?’ said Lake in the
same languid way, his elbows on the arms of his chair, stooping forward, and looking serenely on the fl oor, like a man who is tired of
his work, and enjoys his respite.
‘Why, Captain Lake, the matter is this – it amounts, in fact,
to fraud. It is plain that the letters are written in batches – several at
a time – and committed to some one to carry from town to town, and
post, having previously fi lled in dates to make them correspond with
the exact period of posting them.’
The attorney’s searching gaze was fi xed on the captain, as he said
this, with all the signifi cance consistent with civility; but he could
not observe the slightest indication of change. I dare say the captain
felt his gaze upon him, and he undoubtedly heard his emphasis, but
he plainly did not take either to himself.
‘Indeed! that is very odd,’ said Captain Lake.
‘Very odd;’ echoed the attorney.
It struck Mr. Larkin that his gallant friend was a little overacting, and showing perhaps less interest in the discovery than was
strictly natural.
‘But how can you show it?’ said Lake with a slight yawn.
‘Wylder is such a fellow. I don’t the least pretend to understand him.
It may be a freak of his.’
‘I don’t think, Captain Lake, that is exactly a possible solution
here. I don’t think, Sir, he would write two letters, one referring
back to the other, at the same time, and post and date the latter more
than a week before the other.’
‘Oh!’ said Lake, quietly, for the fi rst time exhibiting a slight
change of countenance, and looking peevish and excited; yes, that
certainly does look very oddly.’
‘And I think, Captain Lake, it behoves us to leave no stone unturned to sift this matter to the bottom.’
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WYLDER’S HAND
‘With what particular purpose, I don’t quite see,’ said Lake. ‘Don’t
you think possibly Mark Wylder might think us very impertinent?’
‘I think, Captain Lake, on the contrary, we might be doing that
gentleman the only service he is capable of receiving, and I know we
should be doing something toward tracing and exposing the machinations of a conspiracy.’
‘A conspiracy! I did not quite see your meaning. Then, you really
think there is a conspiracy – formed by him or against him, which?’
‘Against him, Captain Lake. Did the same idea never strike you?’
‘Not, I think, that I can recollect.’
‘In none of your conversations upon the subject with – with
members of your family?’ continued the attorney with a grave signifi cance.
‘I say, Sir, I don’t recollect,’ said Lake, glaring for an instant in his
face very savagely. ‘And it seems to me, that sitting here, you fancy
yourself examining some vagrant or poacher at Gylingden sessions.
And pray, Sir, have you no evidence in the letters you speak of but
the insertion of dates, and the posting them in inverse order, to lead
you to that strong conclusion?’
‘None, as supplied by the letters themselves,’ answered Larkin,
a little doggedly, ‘and I venture to think that is rather strong.’
‘Quite so, to a mind like yours,’ said Lake, with a faint gleam of his
unpleasant smile thrown upon the fl oor, ‘but other men don’t see it;
and I hope, at all events, there’s a likelihood that Mark Wylder will
soon return and look after his own business – I’m quite tired of it,
and of’ (he was going to say you) – ‘of everything connected with it.’
‘This delay is attended with more serious mischief. The vicar, his
brother, had a promise of money from him, and is disappointed – in
very great embarrassments; and, in fact, were it not for some temporary assistance, which I may mention – although I don’t speak
of such things – I afforded him myself, he must have been ruined.’
375
JOSEPH SHERIDAN L E FANU
‘It is very sad,’ said Lake; ‘but he ought not to have married without an income.’
‘Very true, Captain Lake – there’s no defending that – it was
wrong, but the retribution is terrible,’ and the righteous man shook
his tall head.
‘Don’t you think he might take steps to relieve himself considerably?’
‘I don’t see it, Captain Lake,’ said the attorney, sadly and drily.
‘Well, you know best; but are not there resources?’
‘I don’t see, Captain Lake, what you point at.’
‘I’ll give him something for his reversion, if he chooses, and
make him comfortable for his life.’
The attorney, somehow, didn’t seem to take kindly to this proposition. We know he had imagined for himself some little fl irtation
on this behalf, and cherished a secret tendre for the same reversion.
Perhaps he had other plans, too. At all events it fl ashed the same
suspicion of Lake upon his mind again; and he said –
‘I don’t know, Sir, that the Reverend Mr. Wylder would entertain anything in the nature of a sale of his reversion. I rather think
the contrary. I don’t think his friends would advise it.’
‘And why not? It was never more than a contingency; and now
they say Mark Wylder is married, and has children; they tell me he
was seen at Ancona?’ said Lake tranquilly.
‘They tell you! who are they?’ said the attorney, and his dove’s
eyes were gone again, and the rat’s eyes unequivocally looking out
of the small pink lids.
‘They – they,’ repeated Captain Lake. ‘Why, of course, Sir, I use
the word in its usual sense – that is, there was a rumour when
I was last in town, and I really forget who told me. Some one, two,
or three, perhaps.’
‘Do you think it’s true, Sir?’ persisted Mr. Larkin.
376
WYLDER’S HAND
‘No, Sir, I don’t,’ said Captain Lake, fi xing his eyes for a moment
with a frank stare on the attorney’s face; ‘but it is quite possible
it may be true.’
‘If it is, you know, Sir,’ said Jos. Larkin, ‘the reversion would be
a bad purchase at a halfpenny. I don’t believe it either, Sir,’ resumed
the attorney, after a little interval; ‘and I could not advise the party
you named, Sir, to sell his remainder for a song.’
‘You’ll advise as you please, Sir, and no doubt not without suffi cient reason,’ retorted Captain Lake.
There was a suspicion of a sneer – not in his countenance, not
in his tone, not necessarily in his words – but somehow a suspicion,
which stung the attorney like a certainty, and a pinkish fl ush tinged
his forehead.
Perhaps Mr. Larkin had not yet formed any distinct plans, and was
really in considerable dubitation. But as we know, perceiving that the
situation of affairs, like all uncertain conjunctures, offered manifestly
an opportunity for speculation, he was, perhaps, desirous, like our old
friend, Sindbad, of that gleam of light which might show him the gold
and precious stones with which the fl oor of the catacomb was strewn.
‘You see, Captain Lake, to speak quite frankly – there’s nothing
like being perfectly frank and open – although you have not treated
me with confi dence, which, of course, was not called for in this particular instance – I may as well say, in passing, that I have no doubt
on my mind you know a great deal more than you care to tell about
the fate of Mr. Mark Wylder. I look upon it, Sir, that that party has
been made away with.’
‘Old villain!’ exclaimed Lake, starting up, with a sudden access of
energy, and his face looked whiter still than usual – perhaps it was
only the light.
‘It won’t do, Sir,’ said Larkin, with a sinister quietude. ‘I say there’s
been foul play. I think, Sir, you’ve got him into some foreign mad-
377
JOSEPH SHERIDAN L E FANU
house, or place of confi nement, and I won’t stop till it’s sifted to the
bottom. It is my duty, Sir.’
Captain Lake’s slender hand sprang on the attorney’s collar,
coat and waistcoat together, and his knuckles, hard and sharp, were
screwed against Mr. Larkin’s jaw-bone, as he shook him, and his face
was like a drift of snow, with two yellow fi res glaring in it.
It was ferine and spectral, and so tremendously violent, that the
long attorney, expecting nothing of the sort, was thrown out of his
balance against the chimneypiece.
‘You d – d old miscreant! I’ll pitch you out of the window.’
‘I – I say, let go. You’re mad, Sir,’ said the attorney, disengaging himself with a sudden and violent effort, and standing, with the
back of a tall chair grasped in both hands, and the seat interposed
between himself and Captain Lake. He was twisting his neck uncomfortably in his shirt collar, and for some seconds was more agitated, in a different way, than his patron was.
The fact was, that Mr. Larkin had a little mistaken his man.
He had never happened before to see him in one of his violent
moods, and fancied that his apathetic manner indicated a person
more easily bullied. There was something, too, in the tone and look
of Captain Lake which went a good way to confound and perplex
his suspicions, and he half fancied that the masterstroke he had hazarded was a rank and irreparable blunder. Something of this, I am
sure, appeared in his countenance, and Captain Lake looked awfully
savage, and each gentleman stared the other full in the face, with
more frankness than became two such diplomatists.
‘Allow me to speak a word, Captain Lake.’
‘You d – d old miscreant!’ repeated the candescent captain.
‘Allow me to say, you misapprehend.’
‘You infernal old cur!’
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WYLDER’S HAND
‘I mean no imputation upon you, Sir. I thought you might have
committed a mistake – any man may; perhaps you have. I have acted, Captain Lake, with fi delity in all respects to you, and to every
client for whom I’ve been concerned. Mr. Wylder is my client, and
I was bound to say I was not satisfi ed about his present position,
which seems to me unaccountable, except on the supposition that
he is under restraint of some sort. I never said you were to blame;
but you may be in error respecting Mr. Wylder. You may have taken
steps, Captain Lake, under a mistake. I never went further than that.
On refl ection, you’ll say so. I didn’t upon my honour.’
‘Then you did not mean to insult me, Sir,’ said Lake.
‘Upon my honour, and conscience, and soul, Captain Lake,’ said
the attorney, stringing together, in his vindication, all the articles he
was assumed most to respect, ‘I am perfectly frank, I do assure you.
I never supposed for an instant more than I say. I could not imagine – I am amazed you have so taken it.’
‘But you think I exercise some control or coercion over my cousin, Mr. Mark Wylder. He’s not a man, I can tell you, wherever he is,
to be bullied, no more than I am. I don’t correspond with him. I have
nothing to do with him or his affairs; I wash my hands of him.’
Captain Lake turned and walked quickly to the door, but came
back as suddenly.
‘Shake hands, Sir. We’ll forget it. I accept what you say; but
don’t talk that way to me again. I can’t imagine what the devil put
such stuff in your head. I don’t care twopence. No one’s to blame
but Wylder himself. I say I don’t care a farthing. Upon my honour,
I quite see – I now acquit you. You could not mean what you seemed
to say; and I can’t understand how a sensible man like you, knowing
Mark Wylder, and knowing me, Sir, could use such – such ambigu-
ous language. I have no more infl uence with him, and can no more
affect his doings, or what you call his fate – and, to say the truth,
379
JOSEPH SHERIDAN L E FANU
care about them no more than the child unborn. He’s his own master, of course. What the devil can you have been dreaming of. I don’t
even get a letter from him. He’s nothing to me.’
‘You have misunderstood me; but that’s over, Sir. I may have
spoken with warmth, fearing that you might be acting under some
cruel misapprehension – that’s all; and you don’t think worse of me,
I’m very sure, Captain Lake, for a little indiscreet zeal on behalf of
a gentleman who has treated me with such unlimited confi dence as
Mr. Wylder. I’d do the same for you, Sir; it’s my character.’
The two gentlemen, you perceive, though still agitated, were becoming reasonable, and more or less complimentary and conciliatory; and the masks which an electric gust had displaced for a moment, revealing gross and somewhat repulsive features, were being
readjusted, while each looked over his shoulder.
I am sorry to say that when that good man, Mr. Larkin, left his
presence, Captain Lake indulged in a perfectly blasphemous monologue. His fury was excited to a pitch that was very nearly ungovernable; and after it had exhibited itself in the way I have said, Captain
Lake opened a little despatch-box, and took therefrom a foreign letter, but three days received. He read it through: his ill-omened smile
expanded to a grin that was undisguisedly diabolical. With a scissors
he clipt his own name where it occurred from the thin sheet, and
then, in red ink and Roman capitals, he scrawled a line or two across
the interior of the letter, enclosed it in an envelope, directed it, and
then rang the bell.
He ordered the tax-cart and two horses to drive tandem. The
captain was rather a good whip, and he drove at a great pace to Dollington, took the train on to Charteris, there posted his letter, and
so returned; his temper continuing savage all that evening, and in
a modifi ed degree in the same state for several days after.
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