First Person Paramount, Page 4

  II

  THE FOUNDATION OF A FORTUNE

  The next month passed very quietly. I got used to Sir William and hisways, and so assiduously attended him that I had the satisfaction toperceive that my services were gradually becoming indispensable to hiscomfort. I studied him so closely that before long I was able almost toread his thoughts, certainly to anticipate his wishes. I waited uponhim like a shadow, as silently, as faithfully. His life was for themost part of fixed habit. At nine o'clock he arose and breakfasted. Hethen repaired to his library where he read or wrote until noon. I foundthat he was engaged in compiling a compendium of philosophy, one volumeof which had already been published and which had procured for him agreat measure of literary fame. His heart was wrapped up in his work.It had more charms to him than the love of woman to an abandoned rake,or dice to a gambler. Once seated there before his manuscript hepermitted nothing to interrupt him, except noise--at which he ragedlike a madman. I have seen him bend murderous glances onButts--entering by chance with some persistent visitor's pasteboard. I,however, came and went as I pleased with his medicines, which I obligedhim to take at the proper hours. For me he had always a smile,impatient truly, but a smile; for I wore shoes of felt, and fromcareful practice my voice became more softly modulated every day. Atnoon Sir William went out for a walk in the park, and for lunch at hisrestaurant. He returned at three and worked steadily until seven, whenI dressed him for dinner, for which he also went abroad. From teno'clock until midnight he worked again, when I put him to bed. Such wasour daily round for six days in every week. On the seventh Sir Williamarose an hour earlier than usual, and immediately after breakfast heleft the house and seldom returned until past midnight. What he did orwhere he went on those occasions I could not by any means discover, forButts was as ignorant as I, and I dared not ask our master. Idetermined that one day in the near future I would follow him, but Icould not do so immediately, because of Butts. Visitors came to thehouse at times, but he seldom received any, and if he saw his friendsat all it must have been during meals. I directed my leisure hours tothe perfection of the plan I had formed for my own aggrandisement. Inthat behalf I prosecuted diligent inquiries concerning the sixgentlemen who were my master's monthly guests. I could learn verylittle of them it is true, try how I would, and nothing at all of thecurious link of agreement which I knew bound them together. But I foundthat they were all men of private fortune and of great esteem in theworld of learning; also that each of them, like my master, waspassionately devoted to a particular intellectual hobby horse. SirCharles Venner, it seemed, had already spent ten years of research inextending the acquaintance of science with the functions of the thyroidgland. Dr. Fulton's ambition was to discover some great destructive tothe bacillus of bubonic plague, yet otherwise harmless to the humansystem. Mr. Humphreys was engaged upon a propagandist mission to teachthe masses the blessings of what he called "Purer Socialism." Mr.Cavanagh painted riddles of pictures for the Academy, which his brotherAcademicians wished, without daring, to reject. Mr. Nevil Pardoe wroteproblem plays, and Mr. Husband was a naval expert. Like my master, allwere confirmed bachelors who had acquired a reputation for misogynybecause they remorselessly eschewed society. Earnest workers andinfernal idiots! So I came to regard them the more I heard of them.Indeed, who but a fool would prefer to waste his life in barren study,when he might squire instead such exquisitely beautiful dames as I sawand coveted every time I wandered down Piccadilly or the Row?

  The secret of my master's monthly entertainments cost me many anunquiet night of puzzled thought and anxious contemplation. I tried tobelieve that he and his six fellow students had simply agreed toassemble periodically at Sir William Dagmar's house in order to enjoy aquiet gamble as a recreation from their ordinary and persistentlabours, and also to gratify a morbid desire of marking the ravageswhich their common disease had made in each other since their lastmeeting. Some instinct, however, forbade me to rest satisfied with anexplanation so simple. Why, I asked myself, should they always conversein French, if they had nothing better worthy of concealing? Why, again,should they subscribe weekly to a common fund, the combined fruits ofwhich evidently passed into one man's keeping at the dictation of thedice? That seemed a curious thing, and it was a circumstance all themore puzzling to account for, since they gambled at cards for highstakes as well. Was it just possible that the winner of the cheque wasbound, by rule, to apply the money to some esoteric purpose? I feltinclined to suspect it was! But what then? I watched Sir William, thelast winner of the cheque, as a cat might a mouse for three weeks--butI discovered nothing. I censored his correspondence with a like result.Every Monday morning he gave me a letter to post to Mr. Cavanagh. Iopened those over a bowl of steam, but each only contained a crossedand unnegotiable cheque for L250, with never a line of explanation. Asfor the rest of his post budget, he received many letters, but heanswered none, and his correspondents seemed to be for the most partbeggars. The mystery irritated me so much that it began to trouble mysleep. Butts also annoyed me. He developed such a fancy for my companythat I was obliged to lock my door whenever I wished to be alone; and Ifrequently wished to be alone, for my great plan required that I shouldbe able to imitate at will Sir William Dagmar's every look and gesture,his every tone and trick of speech. I foresaw that I should have to getrid of Butts. He was a naturally inquisitive, interfering fellow. But Ireflected that when I had got rid of him, it would be necessary for meto perform his duties as well as my own, if I wished to have a clearfield for my designs. If Sir William engaged another footman, I shouldhave my work to do all over again. With that end in view, I persuadedButts to instruct me in the business of ordering and providing themonthly dinners, cleaning silver, and so forth. Pride is not one of myweaknesses, as I have remarked before. I felt able to assume his postin a very few days, just two days indeed before the next monthly dinnerwas due. That very night I dressed myself up to resemble my master, andmarched stealthily downstairs into the pantry about the hour when Iknew, from experience, that Butts enjoyed a first night-cap of portwine. There he stood, a bottle before him, glass in hand.

  "Butts!" said I, without preliminary, "I was wrong to forgive you forstealing my wine. But I wished to give you a chance--No, don't speak tome, Butts. You have had your chance and wasted it. If you are not outof my house before breakfast hour to-morrow, I shall give you in chargeof the police. If, however, you make the least noise in taking yourboxes downstairs, I shall prosecute you in any case. Be careful,therefore! Good night, Butts!"

  I left him standing like a frozen image, staring after me. Half an hourlater he came to my room and poured the whole story into my sympatheticears. He was almost drunk, and bitterly incensed with my master, alsohe was terribly afraid of the police. I sincerely commiserated withhim, and earned his undying gratitude by forcing into his hand one ofthe sovereigns of which I had previously despoiled him, and which I hadhad no occasion to spend, for Butts had put me in the way ofreplenishing my wardrobe on the credit system. I felt truly sorry forButts, but he had to go. He stood in my way. My philosophy is embracedin the maxim, "First person paramount." I may be thought inhuman bysome of the people who read these memoirs, but I dare swear that nonewill consider me a fool. The surest way to succeed in life is to kickdown as soon as may be the ladders by which one climbs. To do otherwiseis to court disaster, for envy is the most powerful passion of thesoul, and envy is inevitably excited by contemplation of the successesof our equals or inferiors.

  When I had half dressed Sir William on the following morning, I brokemy fixed habit of silence.

  "If you please, sir," I said very softly, "I have something to informyou which I fancy you should know."

  My master looked as much surprised as if he had previously consideredme to be a dummy.

  "What is it?" he curtly demanded.

  "Butts left this morning, sir, soon after daylight, in order to catch atrain to the West. His closest living relative is dying, I believe; Ipersuaded him not to trouble you last night by asking yo
ur permission."

  "What a cursed nuisance!" cried Sir William with a frown. "I expectguests to dinner here to-morrow night. When will Butts return?"

  "I don't think he will come back, sir, he has expectations ofinheriting a little fortune; he has, however, given me minuteinstructions regarding the dinner, and if you will be good enough toconfide the matter to my hands, I think I can promise that you'll notbe disappointed!"

  "You are an invaluable fellow, Brown," said my master in tones of greatrelief. "Certainly, take charge of everything. I know that I can trustyou."

  "Thank you, sir," I said demurely. "Will your guests be the same aslast time, sir?"

  "Yes!" He shrugged his shoulders and slipped his arms into the coat Iheld out for him.

  "And will they be placed at table as before, sir?"

  "Exactly. But what about my breakfast this morning, Brown?"

  "It will be ready for you in five minutes, sir."

  I slipped out of the room and hurried down stairs. I had not studied mymaster's tastes for nothing. The breakfast I had prepared comprisedevery dainty that he cared about, and the look of surprise he castabout the table sufficiently rewarded my forethought.

  "Why, Brown," said he, as he sat down, "you are a perfect treasure. IfButts does not return I shall feel inclined to double your duties andyour pay. Some years ago I had a valet who managed the whole housewithout assistance."

  "I could do that," I assured him quietly. "There is really only workhere for one man, sir. Pardon me for saying it, sir, but half my timeso far has hung upon my hands, and I detest being idle, sir."

  "Well, well, we shall see," he replied. I felt that I had gained mypoint and I said no more.

  I made four pounds in spot cash by way of commission in ordering thedinner. It was really very easy. The restaurateurs were so anxiousindeed to secure my custom that I might have made more, but I am not agreedy man, and four sovereigns seemed a lot to me just then.

  The dinner passed off much as the first had done. Similar grisly jokeswere interchanged in the French tongue, and many bets were concludedbetween Sir William and his guests. They toasted the tubercle bacillusagain, and after I had served the nut cream Mr. Cavanagh handed acheque for L7,000 to Sir William and then resigned his office in favourof Dr. Fulton, just as Mr. Pardoe had done upon the former occasion. Inoticed that Mr. Pardoe looked very ill, frightfully ill, in fact, andhis cough was horrible to hear. It is true that all looked worse thanthey had before, but Mr. Pardoe had outstripped the others, and he wasmercilessly rallied on his appearance. The most consequential wager wasarranged between Mr. Humphreys and Sir Charles Venner. The latter laidthe former six to four in hundreds that Mr. Pardoe would die within thenext month. I shall never forget Mr. Pardoe's face as he listened. Itsexpression was indescribably vexed and full of despair, but the othersroared with laughter to see it. As for me, I confess that theirlaughter sickened me, and I had to slip out of the room in order torecover my nerve. Such monstrous disregard of a fellow creature'smanifest anguish inspired me with dismay and something like terror.Were these people men of flesh and blood, I asked myself, or ghouls?But my curiosity was so poignant that I soon returned, and when theytrooped out to the card room I followed closely at their heels.

  The same formula was observed as upon the first occasion that I hadwitnessed. The cheque was placed upon the table and all gathered roundto watch and throw the dice.

  Sir Charles Venner was the first to cast. As he rattled the box helooked about him with a sort of snarling smile. "By all the laws ofchance it should be my turn!" he declared. "I have never won theincubus yet!"

  He threw eighteen! The others exclaimed, but Mr. Cavanagh did more. Hestepped back from the throng and gritting his teeth he threw out hisclenched hands with a gesture of savage abandon. "There," said I tomyself, "is a man who wishes more passionately to win than the rest,but why?"

  "Cavanagh, your turn," said Dr. Fulton.

  The artist's face was chalk white as he took up the box. "You tremble!"cried Sir Charles in mocking tones. "You tremble!"

  "Bah!" exclaimed Mr. Cavanagh, and he threw.

  "Eighteen!" shouted Dr. Fulton.

  Sir Charles flushed crimson, and swore beneath his breath. But Mr.Cavanagh uttered a cry of triumph that had yet in it a note of agony. Iwatched him attentively thenceforward, because it suddenly occurred tome that he would better repay such trouble than the others. Hispassions were least well controlled of any there. His was the weakestface and most ingenuous. I determined that he should be my key to themystery I wished to solve. He was a wonderfully handsome person, small,slight, elegant, exquisite. His hair was thick and black, but hismoustache and pointed beard were of rich red gold. He had large andsingularly soulful eyes, whose colour changed with light from black toamber. His mouth, however, though full and beautifully shaped, betrayeda vacillating and unstable disposition. I judged him for a man totrust, to admire, to like, but not to lean upon. He waited for his turnto throw again in a fever of inquietude. His hands clenched andunclenched. His features spasmodically twitched and the tip of his nosemoved up and down with alarming speed. Not any of the others was luckyenough to throw eighteen, so presently Sir Charles Venner took up thedice again. He looked perfectly indifferent, but I saw his eyes, andthey were gleaming. He allowed the dice to fall one by one.

  "Seven!" announced Dr. Fulton.

  Sir Charles bit his lip and handed the box in silence to Mr. Cavanagh.

  The latter threw eight. Dropping the box he darted forward and clawedup the cheque, with a strangled, animal-like cry. The others exchangedglances of disgust; all, that is to say, except my master. He shot alook of passionate menace at the artist and called him in a dreadfulvoice by name.

  Mr. Cavanagh stood erect, shaking and ghastly. He seemed convulsed withshame.

  "I--I--forgive me, I am not myself to-night," he muttered.

  "A fine, a fine," shouted Mr. Humphreys. "He has pleaded hisill-health."

  "Ay, ay," cried the others, "a fine!"

  "Twenty pounds!" said Sir William Dagmar.

  Mr. Cavanagh paid the money to my master without demur. Sir Williamgave it to Dr. Fulton, and a second later all were seated at the table.

  I served them with coffee, and they began to play. My master had noluck that night--he lost about four hundred pounds. Mr. Cavanagh alsolost rather heavily, and so did Dr. Fulton. The principal winners wereMr. Pardoe and Sir Charles Venner; Mr. Humphreys left off as hecommenced, while Mr. Husband disgustedly declared that he had won apaltry sovereign. As before, on the first stroke of midnight the gamebroke up and all arose. As before, no farewell greetings wereexchanged, but the guests departed after curtly nodding to their host.My master looked more wearied than I had ever seen him. He retired atonce to bed, and he was half asleep before he touched the pillow withhis head. But I was more than pleased thereat, for the time was ripe toprosecute the first move of my plan. As soon as he dismissed me, Ihurried to my room, and in less than twenty minutes I was Sir WilliamDagmar to the life, save for one tiny circumstance. My master, as Ihave previously mentioned, possessed a fine set of teeth, but his rightincisor was lacking. When I had impersonated him for Butts' benefit,that detail had not troubled me, for Butts was a dull, unobservantcreature. I reflected, however, that Mr. Cavanagh might be of adifferent calibre, and I dared run no risks. Now every tooth in my headis false. Moreover, I was wearing at that moment my stage set, whichwas so peculiarly constructed that with very little bother and a screwdriver I might remove any tooth I pleased. I therefore whipped out theplate from my mouth, and with the aid of a penknife, I presentlyabstracted my right incisor. A glance in the mirror made me tingle withtriumph. I believe that had Sir William seen me at that moment he wouldhave swooned with sheer shock at seeing so perfect a double of himself.Having provided myself with a latch-key, I stole downstairs andabstracted from the hall my master's hat and cloak. A few minutesafterwards I was flying towards Mr. Cavanagh's studio and residence atSt. John's Wood, in a hansom, whi
ch I chose wisely, for the horse was aspeedy brute, and he drew up at Hamilton Crescent in less than half anhour.

  In answer to my vigorous tug at the bell, the door opened quickly and aservant's face appeared.

  "Be good enough to ask Mr. Cavanagh to let me see him for a moment, myname is Dagmar," I said haughtily, "Sir William Dagmar," I added, forthe fellow seemed to hesitate.

  He admitted me forthwith. "Mr. Cavanagh has not long come in," hevolunteered in sleepy tones. "He is in the studio--step this way, ifyou please, sir." He yawned in my face and turned about. I followed himdown a spacious dimly lighted hall, furnished with almost regalmagnificence in the oriental style. He opened a door at the furtherend, announced me in quiet tones between two yawns and immediatelywithdrew. Sir William Dagmar would not have put up with such a servantfor five minutes. Evidently, thought I, Mr. Cavanagh is not a hard manto please. I entered the studio and shut the door behind me; but to myastonishment, I perceived Mr. Cavanagh, seated in a deep saddle-bagchair beneath an immense arc glow lamp, fast asleep. His chin was sunkupon his chest, his arms hung at his side, and he was breathingstertorously. I glanced about the room. It was rich and commodious, butconventional. Priceless silks and satins covered the walls. Rugs andskins from all parts of the world bestrewed the polished parquet floor.A large crimson curtained easel stood upon a dais of carven oak besideMr. Cavanagh's chair, and in a far corner glimmered an ebony framedgrand piano. Beyond a few pieces of rather fine statuary, a prodigiouschesterfield, and half a dozen antique throne-shaped chairs, the placecontained no other furniture of note. I had expected something out ofthe common rather than rich, and I felt keenly disappointed, for I hadseen a dozen such studios pictured in the monthly magazines andfashionable periodicals. I marched straight up to Mr. Cavanagh andplaced a heavy hand upon his shoulder. He opened his eyes and looked upat me in a dazed questioning fashion, but having grasped the situationas it was apparent to him, he sprang to his feet with a cry ofconsternation.

  "Dagmar!" he gasped. "You--you--you!" His voice trailed off in anascending inflection into a whisper of what I considered terrifiedamazement.

  I pointed to the chair he had just quitted, "Sit down!" I commandedsternly.

  He obeyed limply; his eyes were dilated, fixed and staring. It wasplain that he stood in real fear of me. I determined grimly to discoverwhy.

  Standing before him I folded my arms, and bending my brows together Isurveyed him, as I had seen Irving in some of his heavy parts confronta character he was destined by his playwright to subdue.

  This for two full minutes in a silence like that of the tomb. Thewretched man began to shake and shiver.

  "For God's sake, Dagmar," he stammered at last. His voice was as hoarseas a raven's croak.

  "Cavanagh!" said I, "what are you intending to do with the money givenyou by the dice to-night?"

  To my astonishment he covered his face with his hands and his bodybegan to heave with sobs. Without stirring a muscle I waited for hisexplanation. I divined that to be my cue. He grew calmer by degrees,and at length with a sheer muscular effort he forced himself to look atme. He shivered as he met my eyes and groaned aloud.

  "Woman!" I muttered cuttingly.

  "You--hard devil!" he hissed with sudden passion. He started forward,and our glances contended for a moment, but his quailed before mine.

  "Answer me," I commanded.

  He bit his lips until the blood appeared, and he gripped the sides ofhis chair with all his energy.

  "Answer me," I repeated.

  Of a sudden he began to cough. He coughed so violently that theconvulsions racked his frame, and at length he sank back in his chairhalf-fainting, with half closed eyes.

  I waited pitiless as fate. "Answer me," I repeated. "Must I wait forever?"

  But the fight had gone out of him. He heaved a sigh, and two salt tearstrickled down his cheeks. "You know," he muttered, in a low,heartbroken wail. "You know--you know!"

  "Answer me," I thundered. Sir William Dagmar might have known, you see,but I was ignorant.

  "I am going to give it to her--to her," he murmured; his eyes were nowquite closed and he seemed upon the verge of a collapse. This wouldnever do!

  I strode forward and shook him roughly by the shoulder.

  "To whom?" I hissed.

  "To Marion, Marion Le Mar." He sat up and looked dazedly around. "Oh,do what you please," he cried wildly, as he met my eyes. "What do Icare--I have not long to live in any case. A few months more or less,what does it matter? And she--God help her, she needs it--needs it aswell you know--you hard, inhuman devil!"

  "You are mad!" I hissed. "What claim has that woman upon you?"

  "The woman I love?" He sprang to his feet and faced me with just such alook as a tiger might defend his mate. "The woman I should havemarried, but for the accursed laws of the society which you enticed meinto joining!"

  "You are a consumptive, a death's head!" I sneered. "A nice man you tomarry any woman! Fool that you are, ask yourself would she have marriedyou?"

  He gave me a look of almost sublime contempt. "She loves me!" he said,and there was in his bearing a dignity so proudly self-conscious, yetcompassionate, that my heart went out to the man; I began to pity himprofoundly, ay, and wish to help him. I could hardly understand myself.I had never felt like that for any living creature prior to thatinstant. But I had work to do, pressing work, and I put my feelingsresolutely aside.

  "George Cavanagh," said I, "you reproach me with having bound you to asociety whose laws forbid your marrying the woman you love. But itseems to me you aspire to break another of its laws in giving her thismoney. What of that?"

  "Fear nothing," he replied in tones of ice. "I shall pay the penalty.When next the society foregathers at your house, Fulton will announceyour numbers lessened by one death."

  In spite of myself I started. Aha! thought I--I grow hot upon the track.

  "You will kill yourself?" I demanded.

  He bowed his head, and sat down again. He had once more fallen totrembling. A curious man this, a mixture of strength and weakness. Hewas past redemption, wedded to the grave by his disease, and yet heshivered at the thought of death. And yet again, he could deliberatelyresolve to shorten his life.

  I frowned down at him. "Cavanagh," said I, "I wish you to be goodenough to repeat to me, word for word, the rule you dare to dream ofbreaking."

  "Useless!" he retorted. "I have well considered it. For God's sakeleave me, Dagmar, I am done and desperate. I believe you mean me well,but you are killing me."

  I saw indeed that he was desperate, and straight away I changed mytactics.

  "George," I murmured in a soft and winning voice, "I have come hereto-night to save you if I can, not to break you. Listen to me--it hasbeen well said that no rule or law was ever yet devised by humaningenuity which might not be evaded by a criminal with brains enough.You seek to be a criminal. Well, well!" I nodded my head mysteriously."It is a pity--but I like you, boy--I don't want you to die just yet.There may be a way out, in spite of all. Now--trust me and obey me."

  A curious pang altogether strange to my experience shot through mybreast, as I watched the glow of hope that flashed into the poorfellow's eyes, and the colour flame into his ashen cheeks.

  "Dagmar!" he gasped, "Dagmar!" and he stretched out his shaking handsas a child might do.

  "Repeat it word for word!" I commanded. "Come, calm yourself--that isbetter; now!"

  He could hardly articulate at first, but he grew calmer as he proceeded.

  "Whosoever shall win!" he began, "shall win the proceeds of onecompleted month's joint contributions, shall--during--the succeedingmonth, apply the gold so gifted him by hazard of the dice untothe--the--purpose that--that is--is provided for by rule three. Shouldhe, on the contrary, apply it--to--to--Ah! you know, Dagmar, you know."

  "Ay!" said I, "I know what follows--it spells suicide in brief. But, mydear George--there is hope for you in rule three."

  "Impossible!" he gasped. "Impossible!"r />
  I smiled. "There is no such word in my vocabulary," I answered firmly."Now, George, give me all your mind, every atom of your attention, andI shall show you a path from your dilemma--an honourable expedient.Repeat rule three!"

  He knitted his brows together, and a curiously strained introspectivelook came into his eyes.

  "You are trying me!" he muttered. "Dagmar--if you dared----"

  "Fool!" I interrupted hoarsely--for my suspense was painfully intense."What object could I serve? Do as I bid you! Do as I bid you!" Ipressed his hands more tightly, and with all my strength I strove tosubordinate his will to mine. I succeeded.

  "I'll trust you!" he muttered in a tense trembling whisper. "I'll trustyou, Dagmar. God forgive you if you play me false!"

  There was something so infectious in his emotion that I felt myselftremble too, and involuntarily I followed the terrified suspiciousglances that he darted about the room.

  "Amen!" I cried. "Now Cavanagh--"

  But he uttered an exclamation. "Oh! You are hurting me!" he cried.

  In my excitement I had forgotten the man's womanish physique, and I hadcruelly crushed his hands. Upon such trifling incidents does anironical malicious fate love to hang tremendous issues! I do notremember if I have previously mentioned the fact that the thumb of SirWilliam Dagmar's right hand lacks a joint. But such is the case. He hadlost it through a gunshot when a lad. Now this circumstance constitutedthe one flaw in my disguise, for my hands are perfect. In the earlierpart of the interview I had been careful to conceal them from view, butstartled by Cavanagh's cry of pain and words of reproach I did anunpardonably foolish thing. I permitted myself, for one second, to bevictimized by a human impulse. Forgetting everything except that I hadhurt him and was sorry, I opened my hands--and looked down at hisdelicate crumpled fingers from which my brutal grasp had driven all theblood. On the instant I realized my own fatuity and attempted to repairmy error. It was, however, too late.

  Mr. Cavanagh staggered back a pace. At first he looked dazed, almoststunned, but his face turned livid as I watched it and his eyes filledwith flame. They swept over me with glances that scorched, that wishedintemperately to harm, to avenge--to kill! Finally they met my eyes,and for a long moment we gazed into each other's souls. His was full ofrage, despair and terror--mine of savage self-contempt and baffledhope, and fiery but impotent regret.

  "Who are you?" he hissed. "Curse you--who are you?"

  Desperate diseases require desperate remedies. Already there floatedbefore my eyes visions of police, of handcuffs, courthouses and gaols.I saw myself a prisoner serving sentence for criminal impersonation. Ashudder of horror shot through my frame. Then came a blessedinspiration. "Mr. Cavanagh belongs to a society--" cried mythoughts--"which must have a criminal foundation, since its laws dareimpose such a penalty as suicide for their infraction." I set my teethtogether with a grim snap and hoarsely retorted to his question. "Youwish to know who I am, sir. Well, I shall answer you in part. I am adetective from Scotland Yard!"

  The effect of my announcement was completely terrible.

  Mr. Cavanagh threw up his hands, and with a deep groaning gasp sanklimp and insensible to the floor. His face was so ghastly that Ithought him dead. I sprang to his side, and kneeling down pressed myear to his breast. I could not hear his heart beat. With a moan ofagony I stood erect. I was shaking like a man in an ague--and for thefirst time in my life fear took hold of me, sharp, senseless fear. Mymastering wish was to escape quickly and without being seen. Darting tothe door, I waited but to open it without sound, and then hurriedthrough the hall, thanking Providence in my heart that I still wore myfelt-soled shoes. No one hindered, no one saw me. In another second Iwas out of the house, and seated in my waiting hansom.

  "Marble Arch!" I muttered to the driver, "and quickly man, quickly, ifyou wish to earn a double fare!"

  When I reached the Marble Arch I was still panic-stricken and incapableof coherent thought. I do not wish it to be supposed that I am in anysense a craven. But this was the first great crisis of my career, and,like certain brave soldiers I have read of who had fled from the fieldduring their first battle at the first fire, I was governed by anoverwhelming blind impulse impossible to withstand immediately. Ibelieve now that my excited imagination convinced me that I stood inperil of being caught and hanged for murder. At any rate, it seemedterribly necessary to hide myself, and adopt every conceivableexpedient to shake all possible pursuers off my trail. Running downOxford Street, I hailed the first cab I met and drove to London Bridge.There I took another hansom and doubled back to Piccadilly Circus. Athird took me to Tottenham Court Road. A clock chimed two as I steppedupon the footpath. I was a good deal calmer then, although still in awreck of jangling nerves. But I found that I could both control mythoughts and think. I set off at once at a brisk walk towards Holborn,growing more tranquil at every step. I racked my brain for a plan ofaction. I felt that I must get out of England at once and start lifeanew in some foreign land. Fear, you see, was still my tyrant. But howto effect my purpose? I had only three pounds in the world, for thecabs had run away with a sovereign. Bitterly I cursed my folly and thepanic which had prevented me from rifling Mr. Cavanagh's pockets. Theywould have yielded me a golden harvest I doubted not! Of a sudden, as Istrode along, I caught sight of my reflection in a tailor's window. Istopped short, shocked--horrified. I was still Sir William Dagmar tothe life! For two minutes I stood there paralyzed in body and mind,then came a second inspiration. I swung on my heel and glanced aboutme. The street was almost deserted, but a belated hansom wasapproaching. I hailed the driver. "200 Harley Street," I cried andsprang inside. I had given the fellow Sir Charles Venner's address. Ina very few minutes I was ringing at Sir Charles Venner's bell. After along wait and three successive summons, the physician himself attiredin an eiderdown dressing gown and slippers opened the door.

  "What, Dagmar!" he cried, in great astonishment. "Come in. Whatever isthe matter?"

  "A call of private urgency!" I replied. "The fact is, Venner, you cando me a favour, if you will. A very dear friend of mine must get awayfrom England before morning on a matter of life and death, and he needsmore money in cash than I have by me in the house. If you'll be so goodas to let me have three hundred pounds immediately, I shall post you acheque within the next hour."

  We were standing confronting each other in the hall beneath a lowturned swinging gas jet. He raised his eyebrows and shrugged hisshoulders.

  "Will three hundred do?" he asked.

  "Yes, thank you!"

  "Then excuse me for a moment."

  I waited in breathless suspense, but he returned almost immediately,carrying a bag of gold and notes from which he counted three hundredpounds into my hand--you may be sure--into my left hand. I kept myright behind me.

  I curtly thanked him, begged him to excuse me, and hastily withdrew.But he stood at the door and watched me enter the cab.

  I was therefore obliged to give the cabby Sir William Dagmar's address."Back to Curzon Street!" I called out. As soon as we had turned thefirst corner, however, I redirected the driver to Victoria Station, andduring the journey I set to work to alter my appearance as much as layin my power. I tore off my false eyebrows, and with my kerchief Ivigorously rubbed the paint from my cheeks and brow. A mirror set in anangle of the hansom showed me, by the light of a match, a blotchynondescript face that nevertheless could not be mistaken for mymaster's. Better satisfied, I began to reflect on my position, and tomy intense gratification I found that I was no longer the slave offear. Arrived at the station, I discharged the cab and made inquiriesfor the trains to the south. I found that I should have to wait a greatwhile. I therefore selected a dark corner and gave myself up tothought. In ten minutes I was wondering what on earth I had ever beenafraid of--and calling myself moreover by very nasty names. Even if Mr.Cavanagh were dead, and I began to doubt if my perturbed examination ofhis body had given me the truth, who could accuse me of his death?Again, if he lived, he would infallibly, on his reco
very, still believeme a detective. He had not remotely guessed at my identity. Oh! thefool I had been! But what next? Were I to fly to France, I should givemyself away! My master would search my room and discover my make-up boxand various disguises. Were I to stay it would probably never enter hismind to suspect me! Ai! Ai! With patience, boldness, and a little luck,I might even yet convert the defeat I had sustained that night into atriumph. I felt the blood bound in my veins. Waiting for no more Isprang to my feet and hurried from the station. Ten minutes later Inoiselessly inserted my latch-key into Sir William Dagmar's door, andgently as any burglar stepped into the house. The place was profoundlystill. I hung up my master's coat and hat in the hall and creptupstairs. At Sir William's bedroom door I stopped, and stooping pressedmy ear to the key-hole. I distinctly heard him breathing. He was aheavy sleeper, and his respirations were deep and somewhat laboured. Ipassed on with a smile of purest joy. Upon my dressing table stood mymake-up box and a profusion of wigs, beards and moustaches. The sightgave me pause. "It is wise to be bold!" I thought, "but not rash. Hereis danger. When Mr. Cavanagh recovers and informs Sir William ofto-night's happenings--Ah!--and when, moreover, Sir Charles Vennerdiscovers that he has been swindled! What then? It is unlikely, but atthe same time just possible that my master's thoughts may turn to me!"

  I caught up the wigs and stuffed them into the box which I locked.Where to hide it? Not in my room, nor in the pantry! nor in any placeunder my control! Search would reveal it there--infallibly. I must thendispose it in some place not likely to be searched. Where then? For athird time in one evening I was suddenly inspired. Seizing the box, Istole downstairs into my master's private study and, using the utmostcaution, I bestowed it behind some mounds of books that were coveredwith many summers' dust. Heaving a deep sigh of relief and satisfactionI returned to my little chamber and leisurely undressed. Three o'clockchimed as I pulled off my boots. I then removed the last traces of mydisguise with a lavish application of soap and water, and last of all Iscrewed back into its plate the tooth I had removed from my false setearlier in the evening in order more perfectly to resemble my master.After that I got into bed. I felt secure and almost happy--was I not acapitalist? Under my pillow reposed three hundred pounds, and never inmy life until then had I possessed more than a paltry fraction of thatsum. I rejoiced in determining to bank it on the morrow, and I sleepilyassured myself that I would make it the seed of a great fortune. Ishould have been quite happy, save for one thing. I was alreadybeginning to repent the magnanimity or cowardice which had prevented mefrom asking Sir William Venner for six hundred pounds instead of three.I felt sure he would have given me six as readily as three, and it wasa great opportunity wasted. Wasted! It is terribly sad to look backupon wasted opportunities; a heartrending thing indeed. Even now Irecall that circumstance with melancholy. I dreamed of death andmurders and shadowy unutterable horrors. Soon after dawn I awoke,bathed in perspiration, and shivering in every limb. There was a soundof rushing waters in my ears, and I retained a shuddersome impressionof a dark brooding figure bending over me. With a gasp of terror Iplunged my hand beneath my pillow, but my three hundred pounds weresafe. The delight of that discovery quickly dispelled the phantoms ofmy tired fancies, and I arose, with a glad heart, to begin the work ofthe day, by performing the work that I should have done on the previousnight--the clearing up from the dinner party.