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 gaolers 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 avez 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 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 bed-clothes. 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'm 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 Saint-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 alongside. 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; "O 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 business-like," 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 ensured my liberty. Not only

so; but, as I felt with a sudden and overpowering thrill, with ten

thousand pounds in my hand, 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.