Wylder's Hand Part 55

I don't think that Mr. Larkin had read the 'Wandering Jew.' He had no great taste for works of fancy. If he had he might have been reminded, as he looked down upon the wild field of tactics just noted by his pen, of that globe similarly starred all over with little red crosses, which M.

Rodin was wont to consult.

Now he was going into this business as he did into others, methodically.

He, therefore, read what his gazetteer had to say about these towns and cities, standing, for better light, at the window. But though, the type being small, his eyes were more pink than before, he was nothing wiser, the information being of that n.i.g.g.ardly historical and statistical kind which availed nothing in his present scrutiny. He would get Murray's handbooks, and all sorts of works--he was determined to read it up. He was going into this as into a great speculative case, in which he had a heavy stake, with all his activity, craft, and unscrupulousness. It might be the making of him.

His treasure--his oracle--his book of power, the labelled parcel of Wylder's letters, with the annotated map folded beside them--he replaced in their red-taped ligature in his iron safe, and with Chubb's key in his pocket, took his hat and cane--the day was fine--and walked forth for Brandon and the captain's study.

A pleasant day, a light air, a frosty sun. On the green the vicar, with his pretty boy by the hand, pa.s.sed him, not a hundred yards off, like a s.h.i.+p at sea. There was a waving of hands, and smiles, and a shouted 'beautiful day.'

'What a position that poor fellow has got himself into!' good Mr. Larkin thought, with a shrug of compa.s.sion, to himself. 'That reversion! Why it's nothing--I really don't know why I think about it at all. If it were offered me this moment, positively I would not have it. Anything certain--_any_ thing would be better.'

Little Fairy grew grave, in spite of the attorney's smiles, whenever he saw him. He was now saying--as holding his 'Wapsie's' hand, he capered round in front, looking up in his face--

'Why has Mr. Larkin no teeth when he laughs? Is he ever angry when he laughs--is he, Wapsie--oh, Wapsie, _is_ he? Would you let him whip me, if I was naughty? I don't like him. Why does mamma say he is a good man, Wapsie?'

'Because, little man, he _is_ a good man,' said the vicar, recalled by the impiety of the question. 'The best friend that Wapsie ever met with in his life.'

'But you would not give me to him, Wapsie?'

'Give you, darling! no--to no one but to G.o.d, my little man; for richer, for poorer, you're my own--your Wapsie's little man.'

And he lifted him up, and carried him in his arms against his loving heart, and the water stood in his eyes, as he laughed fondly into that pretty face.

But 'little man' by this time was struggling to get down and give chase to a crow grubbing near them for dainties, with a muddy beak, and 'Wapsie's' eyes followed, smiling, the wild vagaries of his little Fairy.

In the mean time Mr. Larkin had got among the n.o.ble trees of Brandon, and was approaching the lordly front of the Hall. His mind was busy. He had not very much fact to go upon. His theories were built chiefly of vapour, and every changing light or breath, therefore, altered their colouring and outlines.

'Maybe Mark Wylder is mad, and wandering in charge of a keeper; maybe he is in some mad doctor's house, and _not_ mad; maybe in England, and there writes these letters which are sent from one continental town to another to be posted, and thus the appearance of locomotion is kept up. Perhaps he has been inveigled into the hands of ruffians, and is living as it were under the vault of an Inquisition, and compelled to write what ever his gaolers dictate. Maybe he writes not under physical but moral coercion. Be the fact how it may, those Lakes, brother and sister, have a guilty knowledge of the affair.

'I will be firm--it is my duty to clear this matter up, if I can--we must do as we would be done by.'

CHAPTER LI.

A FRACAS IN THE LIBRARY.

It was still early in the day. Larcom received him gravely in the hall.

Captain Lake was at home, as usual, up to one o'clock in the library--the most diligent administrator that Brandon had perhaps ever known.

'Well, Larkin--letters, letters perpetually, you see. Quite well, I hope?

Won't you sit down--no bad news? You look rather melancholy. Your other client is not ill--nothing sad about Mark Wylder, I hope?'

'No--nothing sad, Captain Lake--nothing--but a good deal that is strange.'

'Oh, is there?' said Lake, in his soft tones, leaning forward in his easy chair, and looking on the s.h.i.+ning points of his boots.

'I have found out a thing, Captain Lake, which will no doubt interest _you_ as much as it does me. It will lead, I think, to a much more exact _guess_ about Mr. Mark Wylder.'

There was a st.u.r.dy emphasis in the attorney's speech which was far from usual, and indicated something.

'Oh! you have? May one hear it?' said Lake, in the same silken tone, and looking down, as before, on his boots.

'I've discovered something about his letters,' said the attorney, and paused.

'Satisfactory, I hope?' said Lake as before.

'Foul play, Sir.'

'Foul play--is there? What is he doing now?' said Lake in the same languid way, his elbows on the arms of his chair, stooping forward, and looking serenely on the floor, like a man who is tired of his work, and enjoys his respite.

'Why, Captain Lake, the matter is this--it amounts, in fact, to _fraud_.

It is plain that the letters are written in batches--several at a time--and committed to some one to carry from town to town, and post, _having previously filled in dates_ to make them _correspond_ with the exact period of posting them.'

The attorney's searching gaze was fixed on the captain, as he said this, with all the significance consistent with civility; but he could not observe the slightest indication of change. I dare say the captain felt his gaze upon him, and he undoubtedly heard his emphasis, but he plainly did not take either to himself.

'Indeed! that is very odd,' said Captain Lake.

'Very odd;' echoed the attorney.

It struck Mr. Larkin that his gallant friend was a little overacting, and showing perhaps less interest in the discovery than was strictly natural.

'But how can you show it?' said Lake with a slight yawn. 'Wylder _is_ such a fellow. I don't the least pretend to understand him. It may be a freak of his.'

'I don't think, Captain Lake, that is exactly a possible solution here. I don't think, Sir, he would write two letters, one referring back to the other, at the same time, and post and date the latter more than a week _before_ the other.'

'Oh!' said Lake, quietly, for the first time exhibiting a slight change of countenance, and looking peevish and excited; yes, that certainly does look very oddly.'

'And I think, Captain Lake, it behoves us to leave no stone unturned to sift this matter to the bottom.'

'With what particular purpose, I don't quite see,' said Lake. 'Don't you think possibly Mark Wylder might think us very impertinent?'

'I think, Captain Lake, on the contrary, we might be doing that gentleman the only service he is capable of receiving, and I know we should be doing something toward tracing and exposing the machinations of a conspiracy.'

'A conspiracy! I did not quite see your meaning. Then, you really think there is a conspiracy--formed _by_ him or _against_ him, which?'

'_Against_ him, Captain Lake. Did the same idea never strike you?'

'Not, I think, that I can recollect.'

'In none of your conversations upon the subject with--with members of your family?' continued the attorney with a grave significance.

'I say, Sir, I don't recollect,' said Lake, glaring for an instant in his face very savagely. 'And it seems to me, that sitting here, you fancy yourself examining some vagrant or poacher at Gylingden sessions. And pray, Sir, have you no evidence in the letters you speak of but the insertion of dates, and the posting them in inverse order, to lead you to that strong conclusion?'

'None, as supplied by the letters themselves,' answered Larkin, a little doggedly, 'and I venture to think that is rather strong.'

'Quite so, to a mind like yours,' said Lake, with a faint gleam of his unpleasant smile thrown upon the floor, 'but other men don't see it; and I hope, at all events, there's a likelihood that Mark Wylder will soon return and look after his own business--I'm quite tired of it, and of'