CHAPTER XL
ON MY RETURN
These things happened soon after my departure. When six months later Ireturned home I found that many things had followed.
First of all, the chief clerk, promoted to the management of theestate under orders from London, found himself in no enviableposition. He was called upon to send up money week after week--my lordwanted a hundred--five hundred--one knows not what, and must have itwithout delay. If there was no money, then all outstanding accountsmust be collected, mortgages must be foreclosed; but where credit hasbeen allowed it is not possible to collect accounts suddenly, nor canmortgages be foreclosed without due notice given. Then the houses mustbe sold; but in a place like Lynn, which has more houses than it canfill, it is not easy to sell a house, and the price which can beobtained is small indeed compared with the value of houses in London.Then farms and lands must be sold. But who was there to buy them?
Then came letters of rebuke, answered by letters of remonstrance.Money must be raised somehow; money had been advanced on the securityof Molly's property; my lord was in difficulties.
It is almost incredible that a man should be able in so short a timeto waste and dissipate so large a sum of money. When we returned, andI went ashore, the first person I saw was the unfortunate chief clerk,promoted to be manager.
"Mr. Pentecrosse," he said, "little did I think when I was put intothis charge at a yearly salary of L300--more than ever I hoped ordreamed of getting--what a peck of trouble was waiting for me. Littledid I understand, sir, how the great live; with what profusion, withwhat extravagance! As for that poor young lady--heaven help her, forher property is vanishing fast! Soon there will be none. I have noright to talk of my employer's affairs; but you know what hashappened."
"In a word, Lord Fylingdale is getting through Molly's property."
"Worse than that; he is throwing it away. Sir, I wake in the nightwith dreams of terror. I think I see a man plunging his hands into asack of gold and throwing it about with both hands. I have beenordered to foreclose mortgages, to sell houses, to sell farms, to selleverything. When I cannot find a purchaser there come letters from mylord's attorneys, Bisse and Son--the young man was here himself withperemptory orders to find a purchaser--any purchaser. Money must behad."
"Well, there will be, I suppose, an end some time or other."
"The end will come before we look for it. Because, Mr. Pentecrosse,while the profusion goes on the estate grows less, and it becomes moredifficult every day to answer their demands."
"What is left?"
"I hear that Miss Molly's jewels were carried away by the young man. Ihope he was honest, and kept none for himself. I know that the captainhad a large sum of money in his strong room waiting for a mortgage;that went away with the young man. Since then I have sent up all themoney as it came in. I have foreclosed the mortgages. Some of themortgagors could not pay, and are now bankrupt. The captain wouldnever press his people so long as they paid the interest. I have beenable to sell some of the farms; but you know this country, Mr.Pentecrosse; there is not much money among the gentry of these parts;they have been sold at a sacrifice; I have others in the market; thereare houses, also, but no one will buy them. Well, all will soon begone. Then there will remain but one asset out of all the magnificentproperty of the work of three generations. Miss Molly's grandfather,and her father, and herself by means of the captain--only one asset."
"What is that?"
"And soon that will go, too," he replied with a hollow groan. "Sir, itis the noble fleet and the great business which belongs to the fleet.If the ships are sold----"
Suddenly I remembered my lord's question on board _The Lady of Lynn_."Can," he asked, "a ship be sold like an estate of land?"
"They will be sold," I said, confidently. "You may look to have themsold as soon as the other assets are expended. The last thing to besold will be the fleet of ships, and the business which belongs to theships."
"And what will become of me?"
"Why," I said, "somebody must manage the business. Why not you, sinceyou have been all your life in it, and know what it means and how itis conducted? But who will buy it?"
"Not all the merchants of Lynn together could find the money to buythese ships and to carry on this business. No, sir, the whole must goto strangers."
I left him, having given him the ship's papers, and went on to see thecaptain and Molly.
"Jack," she said, ruefully, "you promised when you went away thatthere would be a change. None has come, except a change for the worse.But that we expected."
"In other words, Jack," the captain explained, "everything thathappens must happen before very long, or there will be nothing left.My lord is spending at such a rate as no fortune could stand. Whatdoes he mean? When it is gone will he find another Molly and marry herfor her money? There is not in all the land another Molly--not evenfor her good looks, let alone her fortune."
As for good looks, her misfortunes had only improved poor Molly's facewhich was now of a more pensive cast and had lost some of its youthfuljoyousness. To be sure she had little to make her joyous.
I observed, and I understood, that she was dressed with the utmostsimplicity, like a farmer's daughter. For, outside, the people spokeof her as the countess, even while they accepted her story and did notallow her to be married. She would, at least, present no external signof the rank which she denied.
"How does the man spend all this money?" I asked.
"Thank heaven, Jack, a plain person, like you and me, cannot answerthat question. How does he spend that money? Who knows? He has had,since he began, six months ago, a great many thousands. If he has soldthe jewels he has had I know not how many more, and still the samecry--'send more money--send more money, my lord wants more moneywithout delay.' As for that poor man, lately my clerk, he is drivenlike a slave and bullied like a raw recruit. He wrings his hands.'What shall I do, captain?' he asks. 'What shall I do? Whither shall Iturn?'"
Then there came into my head the thought that I might somehow, bygoing to London find out what manner of life was led by my lord and inwhat ways he wasted and scattered Molly's substance. I could donothing to stop or to hinder the waste; yet when one knows the truthit is generally more tolerable than the uncertainty--the truth is anopen enemy which one can see and avoid, or submit to, or fight; theunknown is an unknown and an unseen enemy who may attack from anyquarter and by any weapon.
I thought over the plan for some days; it assumed clearer shape; itbecame a purpose. Molly, for her part, neither approved nordisapproved. She was for letting the man, who pretended to be herhusband, work his wicked will and do what he pleased, provided that heleft her in peace.
How was a simple sailor to find out the daily life of a great lord?The backstairs one would not choose; but what other way was there? Ilaid the matter before my father and the vicar. "I know not," said thelatter, "that we can do much good by learning the truth, even if weascertain all the particulars of the man's life from his verycompanions, but you might satisfy us on certain points. For instance,about that mysterious woman. I know not how you can find out anything,but you might possibly chance upon a clue."
"Go," said my father, "to my cousin, the bookseller. He found outsomething about Lord Fylingdale's character. He might find out more.You can at least explain what you want and why."
The end of it was that I went to London, riding with a small company,and meeting with no adventures on the way; that I put up at one of theinns outside Bishopsgate, and that I found out my cousin and put thewhole case before him. He was a grave and responsible citizen, achurchwarden, and of good standing in the Stationers' company.
"You want to know how Lord Fylingdale spends his money. I supposethere are but two or three ways; of profligates, I take it, there areonly a few varieties; one games; another rakes; a third surroundshimself with companions who flatter him and strip him. The first twoare possessed of devils; the third is a fool. I do not imagine that myLord Fylingdale is a fool, but you will
probably find that he ispossessed of both the other devils, and perhaps more."
"But how am I to find out?"
"Why, cousin, I think I know a young fellow who can help you in thisbusiness."
"Who is he? How shall I approach him?"
"He is a gentleman who lives by his wits; not one of the ragged poetswho haunt our shops with offers and projects and entreat work at aguinea a sheet. No; he is a gentleman, and a wit; his father was ageneral in the army; his cousin is a noble lord; he is received intothe houses of the great when he chooses to go. He works for thetheatre, and has composed several pieces said to be ingenious. As forhis acquaintance with me, I would have you to understand that with twoor three other booksellers we bring out a weekly essay like those ofthe _Spectator_ and _Tatler_, which, of course, you know."
"I never heard of them."
The bookseller smiled with compassion. "To be sure; at sea there areno books. Well, cousin, this young gentleman sometimes, when he is inthe humour, will write me an essay in the true vein of an Addison. Iwill speak with him. If any one can, he can do your business for you."
It was by the kind offices of this gentleman, whom I found to be aperson of quick wit and ready understanding, besides being of a mostobliging disposition, that I was enabled to see, with my own eyes, anevening such as my lord loved. As for the details, you must, if youplease, hold me excused. Let it suffice that our observations began ata gaming house and ended at a tavern. At both places I kept in thebackground, because I would not be recognised by Lord Fylingdale.
He came into the gaming table with the same lofty, cold carriage whichhe had shown at our humble assembly. He advanced to the table; hebegan to play; no one could tell from his lordship's face whether helost or won; in half an hour or so my friend returned to my corner."He has lost a cool five hundred. They are whispering round the tablethat he loses hundreds every evening. All the world are asking whatgold mine he possesses that he can stand these losses?"
"I know his gold mine," I replied, with a sigh. "But it is nearlyexhausted."
We stayed a little longer. It was about ten or eleven in the eveningthat his lordship left the table.
"Come," said my friend. "I know the tavern where he will spend thenext three or four hours. I can take you there. The bowls of punch andthe company and everything are provided at his lordship's expense. Mr.Pentecrosse, it must be not a gold mine, but a mine of Golconda, tobear this profusion."
"I tell you, sir, whatever it is, the mine is nearly run out."
"It will not be bad for the morals of the town when it has quite runout."
As regards the tavern and its company it is, indeed, astonishing to methat any man should find pleasure in such a company and in suchdiscourse. At the head of the table sat my lord. He appeared to beneither pleased nor displeased; the drink flowed like a stream ofrunning water; it seized on all and made their faces red, their voicesthick; the noble leader sat unmoved, or, if moved at all, then by akind of contempt. At two o'clock he rose and walked out into thestreet, where his chair awaited him.
"This is his humour," said my guide. "Play is his passion; it is theone thing that he lives for; he has wasted and ruined his own estate,which will be transmitted to his successor as bare as the back of myhand; and now he is wasting the wealth of Potosi and the diamonds ofGolconda. He would waste the whole world if he could."
"Why does he entertain such a crew?"
"It is his humour. He seems to delight in observing the wickedness ofthe world. He sits and looks on; he encourages and stimulates, and hisface grows colder and his eyes harder. This man is not possessed of adevil. He is himself the Great Devil--the Prince of Iniquity."
So I had learned all that I wanted to know. It was now quite certainthat we were within a short distance from the end. The lands andhouses in the market would find a purchaser; the fleet and thebusiness would then be sold. What next?
The day after this experience in the life of a rake I paid a visit forthe first and only time to St. James Park in the afternoon. It was, Iremember, a cold but clear and bright day in January. At the gatesstood a crowd of lacqueys and fellows waiting for their ladies, andstamping on the ground to keep off the cold. Within, a goodly companywalked briskly up and down. They were the great people of London whomI saw here. While I looked on admiring the dresses of the ladies andthe extravagances of the gentlemen, who seemed to vie with each otherin calling attention to themselves by their dress and by theirgestures, there passed me, walking alone, a lady whom at first I didnot recognise. She started, however, and smartly tapped my hand withher fan--she carried the fan although it was winter, just as the beauxdangled their canes from their wrists.
"Why," she cried, "it is my sailor! It is surely Jack Pentecrosse!"
Then I recognised the Lady Anastasia.
"And what is Jack Pentecrosse doing in this wicked town? And how isMolly--the countess? Come, Jack, to my house. It is not far from here.I should like a talk with you, and to hear the news. And I will giveyou a dish of tea. Why, I left Lynn in disgrace--did I not? On accountof the grand jury of Middlesex. It was that evening when LordFylingdale turned upon his enemies."
Her house was not very far from St. James's Street. As we walkedalong, she discoursed pleasantly in her soft and charming manner, asif she was made happy just by meeting me, and as if she had alwaysbeen thinking about me.
She placed me in a chair before the fire; she sat opposite; she pulledher bell rope and called for tea; then she began to talk about Lynnand its people.
"Tell me, Jack, about your friend Molly. Is she reconciled to her rankand title yet? I believe that she does not live with her husband."
"She denies that she was married."
"Ah! I have heard, in fact, that there is some sort of a story--a cockand a bull story--about the wedding."
"Another woman was substituted. Molly was at home."
"Another woman? Strange! Why was she substituted? Who was she?"
"I know not. The matter is a mystery. Certain it is, however, thatLord Fylingdale was married. I myself saw the wedding. I was in thechurch."
"You were in the church?" She raised her fan for a moment. "You werein the church? And you saw the wedding. Who was the bride?"
"I do not know. At the time I thought it was Molly."
"Jack," she leaned over, looking me full in the face. "Have you nosuspicion?"
"None. I cannot understand how, all in a moment, and when he foundthat Molly was not there, the bridegroom found means to substituteanother woman dressed as Molly should have been. I cannot understandit."
"It is, as you say, strange. Do you think you will ever find out?"
"Why not? There are three persons in the plot--Lord Fylingdale, Mr.Purdon, and the woman. One of the two last will perhaps reveal thetruth."
She was silent for a moment.
"Well, and what are you doing in town?"
"I came to learn, if I could, something of Lord Fylingdale's privatelife."
"Have you succeeded?"
"He is a gambler and a rake. He is rapidly wasting the whole of poorMolly's fortune. In a few months, or weeks, it will all be gone."
"Yes," she replied; "all will be gone."
"First he took the money and the jewels----"
"What?" she sat up suddenly. "He took the jewels?"
"He took them first. Then he sold the lands."
"Oh, tell me no more! He is wasting and destroying. It is his nature.First he took the jewels. How long ago?"
"Six months ago."
"He has had the jewels," she said. "He has had them for six months."Her face became hard and drawn as with pain; her smiling mouth becamehard; the light died out of her eyes; she became suddenly twenty yearsolder. I wondered what this change might mean. You will think that Iwas a very simple person not to guess more from all these indications.She pushed back her chair and sprang to her feet; she walked over tothe window and looked out upon the cold street, in which there wereflying flakes of snow. Then she came ba
ck and stood before the fire."You can go," she said, harshly, not looking me in the face. "You cango," she repeated, forgetting her proffered hospitality of tea. "Aboutthat woman, Jack, you may find her yet. Many a wicked woman has beengoaded by wrongs intolerable to confess her wickedness. I think youmay find her. It will be too late to save Molly's fortune; but when itis all spent there will be a chance for you, Jack." She turned upon mea wan and sad smile. "Happy Molly!" she added, laying her hand upon myarm with the sweet graciousness that she could command. "Jack," sheadded, "I think we may pity that poor wretch who personated Molly. Itwas perhaps out of love for a worthless man. Women are so. It is notworth, or virtue, or ability, or character that awakens love and keepsit alive. A woman, Jack, loves a man. There is nothing more to besaid. If he is a good man so much the better. If not--still she loveshim." She sighed heavily. "What do you sailors know about women?Virtue, fame, and fortune do not make love, nor--Jack, which is a hardthing for you to believe--does all the wickedness in the world destroylove. A woman may be goaded into revenge, but it makes her all themore unhappy--because love remains."
I went away, musing on this woman who sometimes seemed so true andearnest with all her fashion and affectations. For, as she spoke aboutlove, the tears stood in her eyes as if she was speaking of her owncase. But I never suspected her; I never had the least suspicion ofher as the mysterious woman.
I took cars into the city and went to my cousin's shop, where therewere half-a-dozen gentlemen talking volubly about new books, amongthem my friend who had taken me to the gaming house and to the tavern.When he saw me he slipped aside. "Mr. Pentecrosse," he said, "yourcousin reminds me that I once told him what I could learn concerningan unfortunate poet named Semple. If you would like to see him I thinkI can take you to him."
I thanked him, and said that I would willingly have speech of Mr.Semple.
So he led me down little Britain, and so by a maze of streets to aplace called Turnagain Lane. He stopped at an open door. The street inthe waning light looked squalid, and the house mean.
"The darling of Parnassus," he said, "lies in the top chamber. Youwill find him there, unless I mistake not, because he cannotconveniently go abroad."
So saying, he left me, and I climbed up the dark and dirty staircase,some of the steps of which had been taken away for firewood, andpresently found myself at the top of the last flight before a closeddoor. I knocked. A faint voice bade me come in.
There was no fire in the fireplace; there was no candle; by the faintlight which struggled through the window I perceived that I was in agarret; that all the furniture visible was a bed, and a man in thebed, a table and a chair. On the mantelshelf stood a candlestickwithout a candle and a tinder box.
"Who is it?" asked the man in bed.
"I am in search of Sam Semple. Are you Sam Semple?"
"I know that voice." The man sat up. "Is it the voice of JackPentecrosse?"
"The same. What cheer, man?"
For all answer, he burst out crying like a child.
"Oh! Jack," he said, "I am starving. I made up my mind to starve. Ihave no longer any clothes. I have not even a candle. I have no money.I have not even a sheet of paper to write a letter, and I deserve itall--yes, I deserve it all."
"Why, this is bad. But let me first get you some food. Then we willtalk."
I went downstairs and found a woman, who told me of a shop where Icould get some necessaries, and I presently returned bearing food anda bottle of wine, some coals and candles, and a warm coat, which Ithought would be useful.
By the light of the candle and the fire I could perceive that thecondition of the unhappy poet was miserable indeed. Never was there amore wretched den of a garret. The plaster had fallen from the walls;the window was mostly stuffed with rags in place of glass; in a word,everything betokened the greatest extremity of poverty. As for the manhimself, he had neither coat, waistcoat, nor shoes. He sat on the bedhalf-dressed, but the rest of his wardrobe had been pawned or sold.There were no books; there were no papers; there was nothing to showhis calling; and there was no sign of food.
At the sight of my basket and its contents the man fell to. With justsuch a rage have I seen a sailor picked up at sea from an open boat,fall upon food and devour it. Nor did Sam finish till he had devouredthe whole of the cold beef and bread--a goodly ration--and swallowedthe whole of the bottle of wine, a generous allowance. Then hebreathed a sigh of satisfaction, and put on the thick coat which I hadbought for him.
"Well," I said, "can we now talk?"
"Jack, you have saved my life; but I shall be hungry again to-morrow.Lend me a little money."
"I will lend you a guinea or two. But tell me first how came you here?I thought you were in the confidence of a certain noble lord."
"He is a villain, Jack. He is the greatest villain unhung. Oh! hangingis too good for him. After all I did for him! The lying villain!"
"What you did for him, Sam, was to give him the chance of ruining theproperty of an innocent and helpless girl."
"I gave him the heiress. Was it nothing to promote the daughter of aplain merchant and make her a countess?"
"Tell me more. What were you to get for it?"
"It was I who invented an excuse for taking my lord and his friends toLynn."
"Yes, I understand. You invented the spa. The water in the well----"
"The water is very good water. It could do no harm. I wrote to thedoctor--I invented the analysis, applying it from another. I told himabout the discovery and the things said by the newspapers. There wasno discovery; nobody had heard of the water; no physician sent any ofhis patients there; the only visitors from London were my lord and hisfriends."
"They were all his friends, then?"
"All. His reverence is in the pay of Beelzebub, I believe. The colonelis a bully and a gamester--Sir Harry is a well-known decoy--LadyAnastasia shares her bank with Lord Fylingdale. They were a nest ofsharpers and villains, and their business and mine was to spreadabroad reports of the shining virtue of his lordship."
"All this, or part of it, we found out or guessed. The vicar publiclydenounced you all at his assembly. But what were you to get by it foryourself?"
"I was to have an appointment under government of L200 a year atleast."
"Well?"
"I was to have it directly after the marriage. That was the promise. Ihave it in writing."
"And you have not got it?"
"No; and I shall not get it. When I claimed it his lordship asked meto read the promise. I showed it him. I had kept it carefully in mypocketbook. 'On the marriage of Lord Fylingdale with Miss Molly.' Whatdo you think he said. Oh, villain! villain!"
"What did he say?"
"He said, 'Hold there, my friend! On the marriage. Very well, althoughI say that I am married to that lady, very oddly the lady swears thatshe is not married to me. Now, when that lady acknowledges themarriage I will fulfill my promise. That is fair, is it not?' Then Ilost my head and forgot his rank and my position, and the next momentI was kicked into the street by his lackeys without salary, withoutanything. Oh, villain! villain!"
It seemed as if there was here some opening--of what nature I knewnot. However I spoke seriously to Sam. I pointed out that inintroducing a broken gamester--a profligate--a man of no honour orprinciple, the companion of profligates and gamesters, to the simplefolk of Lynn who were ready to believe anything, he had himself beenguilty of an act more villainous even than the breaking of thiscontract. I gave him, however, a guinea for present necessities and Ipromised him five guineas more if he would write a history of thewhole business so far as he was concerned. And I undertook to leavethis money with my cousin the bookseller--to be paid over to him onreceiving the manuscript.
This business arranged, I had nothing more to do with London. I hadbeen, however, as you shall presently learn, more successful than Imyself understood, for I had learned by actual presence the daily lifeand conversation of this noble lord and I had laid the foundation fora proof of the consp
iracy to disguise his true character, and, whatwas much more important, I had unwittingly fired the mind of themysterious woman herself with resentment and jealousy.