CHAPTER LXXII.
Showing How George Vavasor Paid a Visit.
It was nearly seven o'clock in the evening,--a hot, Julyevening,--when the woman went from Vavasor's room, and left him therealone. It was necessary that he should immediately do something.In the first place he must dine, unless he meant to carry out histhreat, and shoot himself at once. But he had no such intention asthat, although he stood for some minutes with the pistol in his hand.He was thinking then of shooting some one else. But he resolved that,if he did so at all, he would not do it on that evening, and helocked up the pistol again in the standing desk. After that, he tookup some papers, referring to steam packets, which were lying on histable. They contained the programmes of different companies, andshowed how one vessel went on one day to New York, and another onanother day would take out a load of emigrants for New Zealand andAustralia. "That's a good line," said he, as he read a certainprospectus. "They generally go to the bottom, and save a man from anyfurther trouble on his own account." Then he dressed himself, puttingon his boots and coat, and went out to his club for his dinner.
London was still fairly full,--that is to say, the West End was notdeserted, although Parliament had been broken up two months earlierthan usual, in preparation for the new elections. Many men who hadgone down into the country were now back again in town, and thedining-room at the club was crowded. Men came up to him condolingwith him, telling him that he was well rid of a great nuisance, thatthe present Members for the Chelsea Districts would not sit long, orthat there would be another general election in a year or two. To allthese little speeches he made cheerful replies, and was declared byhis acquaintance to bear his disappointment well. Calder Jones cameto him and talked hunting talk, and Vavasor expressed his intentionof being at Roebury in November. "You had better join our club," saidCalder Jones. In answer to which Vavasor said that he thought hewould join the club. He remained in the smoking-room till nearlyeleven; then he took himself home, and remained up half the nightdestroying papers. Every written document on which he could lay hishands he destroyed. All the pigeon-holes of his desk were emptiedout, and their contents thrown into the flames. At first he looked atthe papers before he burned them; but the trouble of doing so soontired him, and he condemned them all, as he came to them, withoutexamination. Then he selected a considerable amount of his clothes,and packed up two portmanteaus, folding his coats with care, andinspecting his boots narrowly, so that he might see which, out ofthe large number before him, it might be best worth his while totake with him. When that was done, he took from his desk a bag ofsovereigns, and, pouring them out upon the table, he counted them outinto parcels of twenty-five each, and made them up carefully intorouleaus with paper. These, when complete, he divided among the twoportmanteaus and a dressing-bag which he also packed and a travellingdesk, which he filled with papers, pens, and the like. But he putinto it no written document. He carefully looked through his linen,and anything that had been marked with more than his initials herejected. Then he took out a bundle of printed cards, and furnished acard-case with them. On these cards was inscribed the name of GregoryVance. When all was finished, he stood for awhile with his backto the fireplace contemplating his work. "After all," he said tohimself, "I know that I shall never start; and, if I do, nobody canhinder me, and my own name would be as good as any other. As for aman with such a face as mine not being known, that is out of thequestion." But still he liked the arrangements which he had made, andwhen he had looked at them for awhile he went to bed.
He was up early the next morning, and had some coffee brought to himby the servant of the house, and as he drank it he had an interviewwith his landlady. "He was going," he said;--"going that very day."It might be possible that he would change his mind; but as he woulddesire to start without delay, if he did go, he would pay her thenwhat he owed her, and what would be due for her lodgings under aweek's notice. The woman stared, and curtseyed, and took her money.Vavasor, though he had lately been much pressed for money, had neverbeen so foolish as to owe debts where he lived. "There will be somethings left about, Mrs. Bunsby," he said, "and I will get you to keepthem till I call or send." Mrs. Bunsby said that she would, and thenlooked her last at him. After that interview she never saw him again.
When he was left alone he put on a rough morning coat, and taking upthe pistol, placed it carefully in his pocket, and sallied forth. Itwas manifest enough that he had some decided scheme in his head, forhe turned quickly towards the West when he reached the Strand, wentacross Trafalgar Square to Pall Mall East, and then turned up SuffolkStreet. Just as he reached the club-house at the corner he paused andlooked back, facing first one way and then the other. "The chancesare that I shall never see anything of it again," he said to himself.Then he laughed in his own silent way, shook his head slightly, andturning again quickly on his heel, walked up the street till hereached the house of Mr. Jones, the pugilistic tailor. The reader, nodoubt, has forgotten all he ever knew of Mr. Jones, the pugilistictailor. It can soon be told again. At Mr. Jones's house John Greylodged when he was in London, and he was in London at this moment.
Vavasor rang the bell, and as soon as the servant came he wentquickly into the house, and passed her in the passage. "Mr. Grey isat home," he said. "I will go up to him." The girl said that Mr. Greywas at home, but suggested that she had better announce the gentleman.But Vavasor was already halfway up the stairs, and before the girlhad reached the first landing place, he had entered Mr. Grey's roomand closed the door behind him.
Grey was sitting near the open window, in a dressing-gown, and wasreading. The breakfast things were on the table, but he had not asyet breakfasted. As soon as he saw George Vavasor, he rose from hischair quickly, and put down his book. "Mr. Vavasor," he said, "Ihardly expected to see you in my lodgings again!"
"I dare say not," said Vavasor; "but, nevertheless, here I am." Hekept his right hand in the pocket which held the pistol, and held hisleft hand under his waistcoat.
"May I ask why you have come?" said Grey.
"I intend to tell you, at any rate, whether you ask me or not. I havecome to declare in your own hearing,--as I am in the habit of doingoccasionally behind your back,--that you are a blackguard,--to spitin your face, and defy you." As he said this he suited his action tohis words, but without any serious result. "I have come here to seeif you are man enough to resent any insult that I can offer you; butI doubt whether you are."
"Nothing that you can say to me, Mr. Vavasor, will have any effectupon me;--except that you can, of course, annoy me."
"And I mean to annoy you, too, before I have done with you. Will youfight me?"
"Fight a duel with you,--with pistols? Certainly not."
"Then you are a coward, as I supposed."
"I should be a fool if I were to do such a thing as that."
"Look here, Mr. Grey. You managed to worm yourself into an intimacywith my cousin, Miss Vavasor, and to become engaged to her. When shefound out what you were, how paltry, and mean, and vile, she changedher mind, and bade you leave her."
"Are you here at her request?"
"I am here as her representative."
"Self-appointed, I think."
"Then, sir, you think wrong. I am at this moment her affiancedhusband; and I find that, in spite of all that she has said toyou,--which was enough, I should have thought, to keep any man ofspirit out of her presence,--you still persecute her by going to herhouse, and forcing yourself upon her presence. Now, I give you twoalternatives. You shall either give me your written promise never togo near her again, or you shall fight me."
"I shall do neither one nor the other,--as you know very wellyourself."
"Stop till I have done, sir. If you have courage enough to fight me,I will meet you in any country. I will fight you here in London, or,if you are afraid of that, I will go over to France, or to America,if that will suit you better."
"Nothing of the kind will suit me at all. I don't want to haveanything to do with you."
"Th
en you are a coward."
"Perhaps I am;--but your saying so will not make me one."
"You are a coward, and a liar, and a blackguard. I have given you theoption of behaving like a gentleman, and you have refused it. Now,look here. I have come here with arms, and I do not intend to leavethis room without using them, unless you will promise to give me themeeting that I have proposed." And he took the pistol out of hispocket.
"Do you mean that you are going to murder me?" Grey asked. There weretwo windows in the room, and he had been sitting near to that whichwas furthest removed from the fireplace, and consequently furthestremoved from the bell, and his visitor was now standing immediatelybetween him and the door. He had to think what steps he might besttake, and to act upon his decision instantly. He was by no meansa timid man, and was one, moreover, very little prone to believein extravagant action. He did not think, even now, that thisdisappointed, ruined man had come there with any intention of killinghim. But he knew that a pistol in the hands of an angry man isdangerous, and that it behoved him to do his best to rid himself ofthe nuisance which now encumbered him. "Do you mean that you aregoing to murder me?" he had said.
"I mean that you shall not leave this room alive unless you promiseto meet me, and fight it out." Upon hearing this, Grey turned himselftowards the bell. "If you move a step, I will fire at you," saidVavasor. Grey paused a moment, and looked him full in the face. "Iwill," said Vavasor again.
"That would be murder," said Grey.
"Don't think that you will frighten me by ugly words," said Vavasor."I am beyond that."
Grey had stopped for a moment to fix his eyes on the other man'sface; but it was only for a moment, and then he went on to the bell.He had seen that the pistol was pointed at himself, and had oncethought of rushing across the room at his adversary, calculating thata shot fired at him as he did so might miss him, and that he wouldthen have a fair chance of disarming the madman. But his chief objectwas to avoid any personal conflict, to escape the indignity of ascramble for the pistol,--and especially to escape the necessity ofa consequent appearance at some police-office, where he would haveto justify himself, and answer the questions of a lawyer hired tocross-question him. He made, therefore, towards the bell, trustingthat Vavasor would not fire at him, but having some little thoughtalso as to the danger of the moment. It might be that everything wasover for him now,--that the fatal hour had come, and that eternitywas close upon him. Something of the spirit of a prayer flashedacross his mind as he moved. Then he heard the click of the pistol'shammer as it fell, and was aware that his eyes were dazzled, thoughhe was unconscious of seeing any flame. He felt something in the air,and knew that the pistol had been fired;--but he did not know whetherthe shot had struck him or had missed him. His hand was out for thebell-handle, and he had pulled it, before he was sure that he wasunhurt.
"D----ation!" exclaimed the murderer. But he did not pull the triggeragain. Though the weapon had of late been so often in his hands, heforgot, in the agitation of the moment, that his missing once was butof small matter if he chose to go on with his purpose. Were there notfive other barrels for him, each making itself ready by the dischargeof the other? But he had paused, forgetting, in his excitement, theuse of his weapon, and before he had bethought himself that the manwas still in his power, he heard the sound of the bell. "D----ation!"he exclaimed. Then he turned round, left the room, hurried down thestairs, and made his way out into the street, having again passed thegirl on his way.
Grey, when he perceived that his enemy was gone, turned round to lookfor the bullet or its mark. He soon found the little hole in thewindow-shutter, and probing it with the point of his pencil, cameupon the morsel of lead which might now just as readily have beenwithin his own brain. There he left it for the time, and then madesome not inaccurate calculation as to the narrowness of his ownescape. He had been standing directly between Vavasor and theshutter, and he found, from the height of the hole, that the shotmust have passed close beneath his ear. He remembered to have heardthe click of the hammer, but he could not remember the sound of thereport, and when the girl entered the room, he perceived at once fromher manner that she was unaware that firearms had been used.
"Has that gentleman left the house?" Grey asked. The girl said thathe had left the house. "Don't admit him again," said he;--"thatis, if you can avoid it. I believe he is not in his right senses."Then he asked for Mr. Jones, his landlord, and in a few minutes thepugilistic tailor was with him.
During those few minutes he had been called upon to resolve what hewould do now. Would he put the police at once upon the track of themurderer, who was, as he remembered too well, the first cousin of thewoman whom he still desired to make his wife? That cross-examinationwhich he would have to undergo at the police-office, and againprobably in an assize court, in which all his relations withthe Vavasor family would be made public, was very vivid to hisimagination. That he was called upon by duty to do something he feltalmost assured. The man who had been allowed to make such an attemptonce with impunity, might probably make it again. But he resolvedthat he need not now say anything about the pistol to the pugilistictailor, unless the tailor said something to him.
"Mr. Jones," he said, "that man whom I had to put out of the room oncebefore, has been here again."
"Has there been another tussle, sir?"
"No;--nothing of that kind. But we must take some steps to preventhis getting in again, if we can help it."
Jones promised his aid, and offered to go at once to the police.To this, however, Mr. Grey demurred, saying that he should himselfseek assistance from some magistrate. Jones promised to be veryvigilant as to watching the door; and then John Grey sat down tohis breakfast. Of course he thought much of what had occurred. Itwas impossible that he should not think much of so narrow an escape.He had probably been as near death as a man may well be withoutreceiving any injury; and the more he thought of it, the morestrongly he was convinced that he could not allow the thing to passby without some notice, or some precaution as to the future.
At eleven o'clock he went to Scotland Yard, and saw someofficer great in power over policemen, and told him all thecircumstances,--confidentially. The powerful officer recommended anequally confidential reference to a magistrate; and towards eveninga very confidential policeman in plain clothes paid a visit toVavasor's lodgings in Cecil Street. But Vavasor lodged there nolonger. Mrs. Bunsby, who was also very confidential,--and at her wits'end because she could not learn the special business of the strangerwho called,--stated that Mr. George Vavasor left her house in a cabat ten o'clock that morning, having taken with him such luggage ashe had packed, and having gone, "she was afraid, for good," as Mrs.Bunsby expressed it.
He had gone for good, and at the moment in which the policeman wasmaking the inquiry in Cecil Street, was leaning over the side of anAmerican steamer which had just got up her steam and weighed heranchor in the Mersey. He was on board at six o'clock, and it was nottill the next day that the cabman was traced who had carried him toEuston Square Station. Of course, it was soon known that he had goneto America, but it was not thought worth while to take any furthersteps towards arresting him. Mr. Grey himself was decidedly opposed toany such attempt, declaring his opinion that his own evidence wouldbe insufficient to obtain a conviction. The big men in Scotland Yardwere loth to let the matter drop. Their mouths watered after the job,and they had very numerous and very confidential interviews with JohnGrey. But it was decided that nothing should be done. "Pity!" saidone enterprising superintendent, in answer to the condolings of abrother superintendent. "Pity's no name for it. It's the greatestshame as ever I knew since I joined the force. A man as was a Memberof Parliament only last Session,--as belongs to no end of swellclubs, a gent as well known in London as any gent about the town! AndI'd have had him back in three months, as sure as my name's Walker."And that superintendent felt that his profession and his country werealike disgraced.
And now George Vavasor vanishes from our pages, and will be heard of
no more. Roebury knew him no longer, nor Pall Mall, nor the ChelseaDistricts. His disappearance was a nine days' wonder, but the worldat large knew nothing of the circumstances of that attempt in SuffolkStreet. Mr. Grey himself told the story to no one, till he told it toMr. Palliser at Lucerne. Mr. Scruby complained bitterly of the way inwhich Vavasor had robbed him; but I doubt whether Scruby, in truth,lost much by the transaction. To Kate, down in Westmoreland, notidings came of her brother, and her sojourn in London with her aunthad nearly come to an end before she knew that he was gone. Even thenthe rumour reached her through Captain Bellfield, and she learnedwhat few facts she knew from Mrs. Bunsby in Cecil Street.
"He was always mysterious," said Mrs. Greenow, "and now he hasvanished. I hate mysteries, and, as for myself, I think it will bemuch better that he should not come back again." Perhaps Kate was ofthe same opinion, but, if so, she kept it to herself.