The Laughing Mill and Other Stories Part 11

"What?"

"It seems you had filled in the blanks before I came?"

"With the first four letters of the alphabet. Yes!"

"With the names in full!"

"What names?"

"Why, Drayton, the first thing I looked at was this record of 'ondyinge Hatred,' &c. It contains all the four names--yours as one of the witnesses of Armstrong's signature. They are written out in pale red ink, as plain as can be----"

I had jumped from my chair and taken the MS. from Calbot's hand. It was impossible--it was inconceivable, but it was true. The page was thoroughly wetted through, but there were the three names--the _four_ names, for my own was added, in the character of compiler of the work--plainly traced out in light red ink. Could I have done it in a fit of abstraction? No, for the chirography was not mine--it was identical with all the rest of the writing. In my utter bewilderment, I raised my eyes to the wall, where hung the picture of my ecclesiastical ancestor--he, the alchemist, the busybody, the death-bed confidant, the suspected wizard--and my own namesake--we were the only two Toxophiluses in all the line of Draytons. Once more, for the third or fourth time that evening, it struck me that he looked excessively knowing and sly.

Who can a.n.a.lyse the lightning evolutions of human thought? I knew the truth before I could explain it. It crystallised in my brain all in a moment. A glance at the front of the MS., which had not been wetted, confirmed me.

I threw down the MS., clapped Calbot on the shoulder, and burst into an immoderate fit of laughter, which his astonished and concerned aspect served only to aggravate. It was some minutes before I could speak.

"It is a simple matter after all," I said. "My old progenitor, there on the wall, was a friend--confidential friend--of Armstrong's. It was he who wrote that MS., and left the blanks, which are not blanks, but names written in invisible ink. He prepared, then, the chemical reagent for the purpose of making the invisible writing visible whenever the time should come. Perhaps he meant to apply it himself some day; but, unluckily, death s.n.a.t.c.hed him all unawares from the scene of his pious intrigues. The MS. got into the hands of Armstrong's heirs (from whom I this day received it). The reagent stayed with the Draytons. This evening you came and brought the two together in your own inimitable style. You see, wherever the paper is wet, the blanks are filled in: the untouched parts are blanks still. Oh John, John! I wish this had happened before I printed my article on 'Unrecognisable Truths:' it is a peculiarly apt ill.u.s.tration."

"Didn't I tell you," said Calbot, after a pause, "that there was nothing in the world so strange as coincidences?"

"There is the hobgoblin still unaccounted for," answered I; "but I have done my part; I leave the rest to you."

The next day but one came a note from my friend. It ran:

"What did I do at your rooms last night? Was I queer at all? I had intended calling on you that day, to tell you that Edna and I were going to be married April 1st, and to get you for my best man. _Did_ I tell you? Because, if not, I do now. The fact is, you see, I had been reading over some curious old family doc.u.ments (I think I spoke to you about them), and then I went up to Edna's and frightened her half to death with telling her ghost stories about the locket I'd given her as a betrothal gift (a queer little thing it is. Did I ever mention it to you?) Well, going home I met young De Quincey, and he proposed--he's always up to some devilry or other--he proposed doing something which I shall never do again; I was a fool to try it at all, but I had no notion how it would act. I'm afraid I may have annoyed you. I have an idea I upset your ink-bottle, and that I got it into my head that the ghost story I had been telling Edna was true. How was it? I know I felt deathly sick the next morning; I'm not certain whether it was the port-wine I drank, or that confounded hasheesh that I took with young De Quincey. I promised Edna I'd never take any more. Well, you won't object to being my best man, will you?

"J. C."

So far from explaining the essential mystery--the Ghostly Rival--this letter of John's only makes it, to my mind, more inscrutable than ever.

Talk about coincidences! For my part, I prefer to believe in ghosts.

MRS. GAINSBOROUGH'S DIAMONDS.

I.

"Superb! I don't know when I have seen finer, Tom, really!"

"Ah!" said Tom, complacently handling his left whisker. "And," he added, after a moment or two, "and thereby hangs a tale!"

It was after dinner--after one of Tom Gainsborough's snug, inimitable little dinners; only we three--Tom, his wife, and myself: and a couple of negro attendants, as well trained and less overpowering than the best of the native English stock; and that charming dining-room, just big enough, just cool enough, soft-carpeted, clear-walled, and the steady white radiance of the argand burners descending upon the damask tablecloth, crowned with fruits and flowers; and an agreeable shadow over the rest of the room, so that those sable servitors could perform their noiseless evolutions unseen; and a pervading sense of unconscious good-breeding and un.o.btrusive wealth; and----but I will not speak of the china; I will not descant upon Tom's wines; I don't wish to make other people envious. Only it was all inexpressibly good, from fascinating Mrs. Gainsborough and her diamonds, down.

I felt a peculiar interest in Mrs. Gainsborough, because, in addition to her other attractions, she was a countrywoman of mine--that is to say, an American. She was brunette, slender, graceful; with a weird expression of the eyes under straight black eyebrows, an expression which somehow suggested mesmerism--or perhaps a liability on her part to be mesmerised; faultless throat and shoulders; and hands and wrists that she could talk with, almost. Where had Tom found her? I never had thought of asking him; she was a Virginian very likely--an "F. F. V."; and they had doubtless met upon the Continent. This was the first occasion on which I had seen her in her diamonds. Indeed, Tom and she had only been married a year or two, and had been settled in that _bijou_ residence of theirs scarcely six months; and this was but my third or fourth dinner there. Well, her diamonds became her, and she them; they somehow matched that weird light in her eyes; and I told Tom as much when, after dinner, she withdrew and left us over our wine.

"And thereby hangs a tale," repeated he, thoughtfully reaching his hand towards the decanter, and filling my gla.s.s and his own.

Now, it seemed to me entirely in accordance with young Mrs.

Gainsborough's "style" that there should have been something odd and romantic in the circ.u.mstances of her first acquaintance with Tom, and that diamonds should be mixed up with it. Therefore I was more than willing to give ear to the strange story which he proceeded to relate to me. Imagine the servants dismissed, a fresh lump of coal in the grate, the decanter between us, and our legs and elbows disposed in the most comfortable manner possible. Then, this is the story.

II.

"The diamonds, you must know, have been ever so long in our family. It is said they were brought from India, in the time of Marco Polo, by an ancestor of mine. But that is neither here nor there; and sure enough they were only put into their present shape quite recently. I can remember when half of them were uncut, or cut in some barbarous oriental manner, picturesque enough, but not fas.h.i.+onable. And some were mounted as nose-rings, some as clasps, some in the hilts of daggers, and in all sorts of other ways. When I was a child, I was sometimes allowed to play with some of the loose ones, as a treat; until, at last, I contrived to lose one of the biggest. You may not believe it, but the governor actually horsed me and gave me a birching; and the diamonds were locked up from that day. It was only a few years ago that my dear mother, now no more, got them out, and insisted upon their being made up into a regular set by some skilful jeweller. We were thinking of going to Rome at the time, to spend six or eight months, and the first idea was to give the job to Castellani. But then it appeared that my mother had got her eye fixed upon a certain man in Paris, whom she had been told was the first lapidary in Europe. He, and none but he, should set our diamonds. You know my mother generally had her way; and she had it in this case. The fellow certainly did understand his business; his work was well done, as you may have noticed this evening. A queer, pale, nervous little chap he was; not a Frenchman at all, but a Saxon, born in Dresden, I believe, or some village in that neighbourhood. His name was Rudolph--Heinrich Rudolph. He lived and worked in a little dark shop in the Latin Quarter.

"He and I became quite intimate. You see, I had been commissioned to attend to this diamond business, and to remain in Paris until it was done. I was to watch it through all its stages, and be sure that my mother's directions regarding the style of the setting were accurately followed. When all was finished, I was to pay the bill and bring the diamonds on to Rome, where the family would by that time be established.

Well, I was a young fellow, and probably I was not so much cast down at the prospect of spending a month or two alone in Paris as you might suppose. But I doubt whether I should have attended to my ostensible business so faithfully as I actually did, had I not been so greatly taken with my little friend Rudolph. He and I twigged one another, as boys say, from the first. I used to sit and watch him work for hours at a time; and as he worked, he would talk; and very queer captivating talk a good deal of it was. He was a thorough artist and enthusiast, and seemed to care for nothing outside of his profession. He did not appear to me to be in the way of making much money, and it occurred to me that it might be acceptable were I, in an un.o.btrusive way, to introduce him to some wealthy customers. I knew few people in Paris; but there was a Mr. Birchmore, an American gentleman, staying at my hotel, with whom I had forgathered over a cup of coffee and a cigar once or twice: he was a handsome middle-aged man, with an atmosphere of refined affluence about him such as would have befitted a duke. Not a bit like your traditional Yankee; in fact, I'm not sure that I should have suspected him, if I hadn't seen his address--'Fifth Avenue, New York City, U.S.A.'--in the hotel register, about a week after my arrival. He was an agreeable man enough, though not at all the sort to take liberties with; however, I made up my mind that I would get him to Rudolph's on the first pretext that offered.

"Well, I had an excellent pretext before long. Mr. Birchmore came into the cafe one afternoon, with rather an annoyed look, and made some inquiries of the waiter. Francois raised his eyebrows and shrugged his shoulders; there was some further conference, and then he and Mr.

Birchmore began searching about the floor of the room. It presently transpired that he had lost a diamond out of his ring, which had contained three matched brilliants. It was nowhere to be found.

"'I don't mind the loss of the stone itself,' said Mr. Birchmore at last, sitting down near my table; 'but it's one of a set, matched with great difficulty, and I'm afraid I may never replace it.'

"Here was my opportunity. I set forth the wisdom, skill, and resources of my little Saxon friend in glowing colours; mentioned the work he was doing for me, and declared that if any man in Europe could help Mr.

Birchmore to repair his loss, Rudolph was he. Mr. Birchmore at first paid little heed to my representations; but finally I induced him to accompany me to the Latin Quarter, and at least make the attempt. The next morning, accordingly, we set forth; and as we sauntered along the wide pleasant boulevards, our conversation became more free and affable than it had been hitherto. I found my companion could be exceedingly entertaining when he chose it, and had a vast fund of experience and adventure to draw upon. He had been almost everywhere; he had made himself familiar with all varieties of civilised and uncivilised men; as a matter of course, too, he was a versatile linguist. The only direction in which he gave any evidence of comparative deficiency was in that of literature and the fine arts. His life had been essentially an active one; he cared little for Tennyson and Swinburne, for Matthew Arnold and Carlyle. He had, however, read and appreciated 'Macbeth,' and some others of Shakespeare's plays; and he was well acquainted with several of the romances of 'Unabashed Defoe.' I did not discover all this in the course of that one stroll over to the Latin Quarter, but it leaked out during our subsequent acquaintance, which was destined to become more intimate and prolonged than I had any idea of then. As I have intimated, Mr. Birchmore was quite frank and open in his talk, except upon one topic--himself. Of his inner life and circ.u.mstances I could learn nothing. Though he never was obtrusively reticent, yet he contrived never to refer to his own private affairs. I could not satisfy myself whether he were married or single, whether he were a Catholic or Atheist--hardly whether he were rich or poor. Some shadow of grief, some incubus of fear or calamity, seemed to overwhelm him, and impose silence. The most I could do was to draw inferences; and my inference was that he was a bachelor, a millionaire, a sceptic, and a man who, at some period of his life, had committed, either deliberately or by force of circ.u.mstances, a terrible crime! You will see presently how far my estimate was from the truth, or how near to it.

"However, I am antic.i.p.ating, as it is. We arrived in due time at Rudolph's little shop, and I introduced him to Birchmore. I had previously told the latter about my diamonds, and now I made Rudolph produce them. The man of the world examined the gems with evident interest, and with a knowledge of their value and qualities which surprised me, and caused the little jeweller to eye my friend with a jealous keenness.

"'These are all Indian stones,' was Birchmore's first remark. 'There is not an American among them--or stay! What is this? neither an American nor an Indian! An African, I declare, and one of the finest I have seen!'

"'Der Herr hat recht!' muttered Rudolph, with a glance at me. 'Er versteht ja alles.'

"'You know German?'--he says, 'What you don't know about diamonds isn't worth knowing,' I put in. Birchmore nodded with a half smile.

"'I ought to know something about precious stones,' he said. 'I spent three years in a diamond mine, for one thing.' He seemed on the point of saying more, but checked himself, and went on scrutinising the stones, most of which were already in their new setting. 'A costly parure that,'

he remarked at length. 'It wouldn't sell for a penny under thirty thousand pounds.'

"'Five hundred eighty-five thousand francs, with the setting,' replied Rudolph, to whom the words had been addressed. 'Monsieur's estimate would have been correct, but that this stone here is a little off colour, and this one has a slight flaw, which is now in part concealed by the setting.'

"'You travel under proper precautions, I trust?' said Birchmore, after a pause, turning gravely to me. 'I know the confidence you young fellows have in your courage and cleverness; but a dozen or a score of thieves might conspire together for such a prize as this, and against their skill and address no single man would stand a chance. Ah! I know something of it. I was robbed once.'

"'Do tell me about it!' I exclaimed, with an impulsive betrayal of interest that made me smile the next moment.

"'Another time,' said he, shaking his head; and presently he added: 'You will pardon me for presuming to counsel you?'

"'My dear sir, I am much obliged to you. My idea is that the simplest precautions are the best. I shall carry the stones in an inner pocket, and I shall go armed. No one will suspect me; and if I am attacked, I shall make a good defence at all events.'

"Mr. Birchmore said nothing more, and indeed seemed scarcely to listen to my remarks. I now suggested to him that he might show Rudolph his ring. He put his hand to his waistcoat pocket, and gave a half-suppressed e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.i.o.n of disappointment and annoyance. He had left the ring at home!

"'No matter; I will call to-morrow, Herr Rudolph,' he observed. 'I've no doubt I shall find what I want here, if anywhere. Good-morning--that is, if you are ready, Mr. Gainsborough. By the way, Rudolph, I suppose you put your treasures in a safe at night?'

"'Oh, by all means, Herr,' replied the little Saxon. 'And I have a watchman also, who guards all night long.'

"'A prudent fellow: yes, that will do,' murmured Mr. Birchmore, in an undertone to himself. Then, with a parting nod and smile, to which the jeweller did not respond, he sauntered out, I following him. We walked back to the hotel. I did not see him again until after dinner, when he offered me a cigar; and when we had smoked together awhile in silence, he said abruptly: