CHAPTER VII
THE GREAT PAUL LESSINGHAM
He was in evening dress. He carried a small portfolio in his left hand.If the discovery of my presence startled him, as it could scarcely havefailed to do, he allowed no sign of surprise to escape him. PaulLessingham's impenetrability is proverbial. Whether on platformsaddressing excited crowds, or in the midst of heated discussion in theHouse of Commons, all the world knows that his coolness remainsunruffled. It is generally understood that he owes his success in thepolitical arena in no slight measure to the adroitness which is born ofhis invulnerable presence of mind. He gave me a taste of its qualitythen. Standing in the attitude which has been familiarised to us bycaricaturists, his feet apart, his broad shoulders well set back, hishandsome head a little advanced, his keen blue eyes having in themsomething suggestive of a bird of prey considering just when, where,and how to pounce, he regarded me for some seconds in perfectsilence,--whether outwardly I flinched I cannot say; inwardly I know Idid. When he spoke, it was without moving from where he stood, and inthe calm, airy tones in which he might have addressed an acquaintancewho had just dropped in.
'May I ask, sir, to what I am indebted for the pleasure of yourcompany?'
He paused, as if waiting for my answer. When none came, he put hisquestion in another form.
'Pray, sir, who are you, and on whose invitation do I find you here?'
As I still stood speechless, motionless, meeting his glance without atwitching of an eyebrow, nor a tremor of the hand, I imagine that hebegan to consider me with an even closer intentness than before. Andthat the--to say the least of it--peculiarity of my appearance, causedhim to suspect that he was face to face with an adventure of a peculiarkind. Whether he took me for a lunatic I cannot certainly say; but,from his manner, I think it possible he did. He began to move towardsme from across the room, addressing me with the utmost suavity andcourtesy.
'Be so good as to give me the revolver, and the papers you are holdingin your hand.'
As he came on, something entered into me, and forced itself frombetween my lips, so that I said, in a low, hissing voice, which I vowwas never mine,
'THE BEETLE!'
Whether it was, or was not, owing, in some degree, to a trick of myimagination, I cannot determine, but, as the words were spoken, itseemed to me that the lights went low, so that the place was all indarkness, and I again was filled with the nauseous consciousness of thepresence of something evil in the room. But if, in that matter, myabnormally strained imagination played me a trick, there could be nodoubt whatever as to the effect which the words had on Mr Lessingham.When the mist of the blackness--real or supposititious--had passed frombefore my eyes, I found that he had retreated to the extremest limitsof the room, and was crouching, his back against the bookshelves,clutching at them, in the attitude of a man who has received astaggering blow, from which, as yet, he has had no opportunity ofrecovering. A most extraordinary change had taken place in theexpression of his face; in his countenance amazement, fear, and horrorseemed struggling for the mastery. I was filled with a mostdiscomforting qualm, as I gazed at the frightened figure in front ofme, and realised that it was that of the great Paul Lessingham, the godof my political idolatry.
'Who are you?--In God's name, who are you?'
His very voice seemed changed; his frenzied, choking accents wouldhardly have been recognised by either friend or foe.
'Who are you?--Do you hear me ask, who are you? In the name of God, Ibid you say!'
As he perceived that I was still, he began to show a species ofexcitement which it was unpleasant to witness, especially as hecontinued to crouch against the bookshelf, as if he was afraid to standup straight. So far from exhibiting the impassivity for which he wasrenowned, all the muscles in his face and all the limbs in his bodyseemed to be in motion at once; he was like a man afflicted with theshivering ague,--his very fingers were twitching aimlessly, as theywere stretched out on either side of him, as if seeking for supportfrom the shelves against which he leaned.
'Where have you come from? what do you want? who sent you here? whatconcern have you with me? is it necessary that you should come and playthese childish tricks with me? why? why?'
The questions came from him with astonishing rapidity. When he saw thatI continued silent, they came still faster, mingled with what soundedto me like a stream of inchoate abuse.
'Why do you stand there in that extraordinary garment,--it's worse thannakedness, yes, worse than nakedness! For that alone I could have youpunished, and I will!--and try to play the fool? Do you think I am aboy to be bamboozled by every bogey a blunderer may try to conjure up?If so, you're wrong, as whoever sent you might have had sense enough tolet you know. If you tell me who you are, and who sent you here, andwhat it is you want, I will be merciful; if not, the police shall besent for, and the law shall take its course,--to the bitter end!--Iwarn you.--Do you hear? You fool! tell me who you are?'
The last words came from him in what was very like a burst of childishfury. He himself seemed conscious, the moment after, that his passionwas sadly lacking in dignity, and to be ashamed of it. He drew himselfstraight up. With a pocket-handkerchief which he took from an innerpocket of his coat, he wiped his lips. Then, clutching it tightly inhis hand, he eyed me with a fixedness which, under any othercircumstances, I should have found unbearable.
'Well, sir, is your continued silence part of the business of the roleyou have set yourself to play?'
His tone was firmer, and his bearing more in keeping with his character.
'If it be so, I presume that I, at least have liberty to speak. When Ifind a gentleman, even one gifted with your eloquence of silence,playing the part of burglar, I think you will grant that a few words onmy part cannot justly be considered to be out of place.'
Again he paused. I could not but feel that he was employing the vehicleof somewhat cumbrous sarcasm to gain time, and to give himself theopportunity of recovering, if the thing was possible, his pristinecourage. That, for some cause wholly hidden from me, the mysteriousutterance had shaken his nature to its deepest foundations, was madeplainer by his endeavour to treat the whole business with a sort ofcynical levity.
'To commence with, may I ask if you have come through London, orthrough any portion of it, in that costume,--or, rather, in that wantof costume? It would seem out of place in a Cairene street,--would itnot?--even in the Rue de Rabagas,--was it not the Rue de Rabagas?'
He asked the question with an emphasis the meaning of which was whollylost on me. What he referred to either then, or in what immediatelyfollowed, I, of course, knew no more than the man in the moon,--thoughI should probably have found great difficulty in convincing him of myignorance.
'I take it that you are a reminiscence of the Rue de Rabagas,--that, ofcourse;--is it not of course? The little house with the blue-greyVenetians, and the piano with the F sharp missing? Is there still thepiano? with the tinny treble,--indeed, the whole atmosphere, was it nottinny?--You agree with me?--I have not forgotten. I am not even afraidto remember,--you perceive it?'
A new idea seemed to strike him,--born, perhaps, of my continuedsilence.
'You look English,--is it possible that you are not English? What areyou then--French? We shall see!'
He addressed me in a tongue which I recognised as French, but withwhich I was not sufficiently acquainted to understand. Although, Iflatter myself that,--as the present narrative should show--I have notmade an ill-use of the opportunities which I have had to improve my,originally, modest education, I regret that I have never had so much asa ghost of a chance to acquire an even rudimentary knowledge of anylanguage except my own. Recognising, I suppose, from my looks, that hewas addressing me in a tongue to which I was a stranger, after a timehe stopped, added something with a smile, and then began to talk to mein a lingo to which, in a manner of speaking, I was even stranger, forthis time I had not the faintest notion what it was,--it might havebeen gibberish for all that I could tell. Quickly perceiving that heh
ad succeeded no better than before, he returned to English.
'You do not know French?--nor the patois of the Rue de Rabagas? Verygood,--then what is it that you do know? Are you under a vow ofsilence, or are you dumb,--except upon occasion? Your face isEnglish,--what can be seen of it, and I will take it, therefore, thatEnglish spoken words convey some meaning to your brain. So listen, sir,to what I have to say,--do me the favour to listen carefully.'
He was becoming more and more his former self. In his clear, modulatedtones there was a ring of something like a threat,--a something whichwent very far beyond his words.
'You know something of a period which I choose to have forgotten,--thatis plain; you come from a person who, probably, knows still more. Goback to that person and say that what I have forgotten I haveforgotten; nothing will be gained by anyone by an endeavour to induceme to remember,--be very sure upon that point, say that nothing will begained by anyone. That time was one of mirage, of delusion, of disease.I was in a condition, mentally and bodily, in which pranks could havebeen played upon me by any trickster. Such pranks were played. I knowthat now quite well. I do not pretend to be proficient in the modusoperandi of the hankey-pankey man, but I know that he has a method, allthe same,--one susceptible, too, of facile explanation. Go back to yourfriend, and tell him that I am not again likely to be made the butt ofhis old method,--nor of his new one either.--You hear me, sir?'
I remained motionless and silent,--an attitude which, plainly, heresented.
'Are you deaf and dumb? You certainly are not dumb, for you spoke to mejust now. Be advised by me, and do not compel me to resort to measureswhich will be the cause to you of serious discomfort.--You hear me,sir?'
Still, from me, not a sign of comprehension,--to his increasedannoyance.
'So be it. Keep your own counsel, if you choose. Yours will be thebitterness, not mine. You may play the lunatic, and play it excellentlywell, but that you do understand what is said to you is clear.--Come tobusiness, sir. Give me that revolver, and the packet of letters whichyou have stolen from my desk.'
He had been speaking with the air of one who desired to convincehimself as much as me,--and about his last words there was almost aflavour of braggadocio. I remained unheeding.
'Are you going to do as I require, or are you insane enough torefuse?--in which case I shall summon assistance, and there willquickly be an end of it. Pray do not imagine that you can trick me intosupposing that you do not grasp the situation. I know better.--Oncemore, are you going to give me that revolver and those letters?'
Yet no reply. His anger was growing momentarily greater,--and hisagitation too. On my first introduction to Paul Lessingham I was notdestined to discover in him any one of those qualities of which theworld held him to be the undisputed possessor. He showed himself to beas unlike the statesman I had conceived, and esteemed, as he easilycould have done.
'Do you think I stand in awe of you?--you!--of such a thing as you! Doas I tell you, or I myself will make you,--and, at the same time, teachyou a much-needed lesson.'
He raised his voice. In his bearing there was a would-be defiance. Hemight not have been aware of it, but the repetitions of the threatswere, in themselves, confessions of weakness. He came a step or twoforward,--then, stopping short, began to tremble. The perspirationbroke out upon his brow; he made spasmodic little dabs at it with hiscrumpled-up handkerchief. His eyes wandered hither and thither, as ifsearching for something which they feared to see yet were constrainedto seek. He began to talk to himself, out loud, in odd disconnectedsentences,--apparently ignoring me entirely.
'What was that?--It was nothing.--It was my imagination.--My nerves areout of order.--I have been working too hard.--I am not well.--WHAT'STHAT?'
This last inquiry came from him in a half-stifled shriek,--as the dooropened to admit the head and body of an elderly man in a state ofconsiderable undress. He had the tousled appearance of one who had beenunexpectedly roused out of slumber, and unwillingly dragged from bed.Mr Lessingham stared at him as if he had been a ghost, while he staredback at Mr Lessingham as if he found a difficulty in crediting theevidence of his own eyes. It was he who broke thesilence,--stutteringly.
'I am sure I beg your pardon, sir, but one of the maids thought thatshe heard the sound of a shot, and we came down to see if there wasanything the matter,--I had no idea, sir, that you were here.' His eyestravelled from Mr Lessingham towards me,--suddenly increasing, whenthey saw me, to about twice their previous size. 'God save us!--who isthat?'
The man's self-evident cowardice possibly impressed Mr Lessingham withthe conviction that he himself was not cutting the most dignified offigures. At any rate, he made a notable effort to, once more, assume abearing of greater determination.
'You are quite right, Matthews, quite right. I am obliged by yourwatchfulness. At present you may leave the room--I propose to deal withthis fellow myself,--only remain with the other men upon the landing,so that, if I call, you may come to my assistance.'
Matthews did as he was told, he left the room,--with, I fancy, morerapidity than he had entered it. Mr Lessingham returned to me, hismanner distinctly more determined, as if he found his resolutionreinforced by the near neighbourhood of his retainers,
'Now, my man, you see how the case stands, at a word from me you willbe overpowered and doomed to undergo a long period of imprisonment. YetI am still willing to listen to the dictates of mercy. Put down thatrevolver, give me those letters,--you will not find me disposed totreat you hardly.'
For all the attention I paid him, I might have been a graven image. Hemisunderstood, or pretended to misunderstand, the cause of my silence.
'Come, I see that you suppose my intentions to be harsher than theyreally are,--do not let us have a scandal, and a scene,--besensible!--give me those letters!'
Again he moved in my direction; again, after he had taken a step ortwo, to stumble and stop, and look about him with frightened eyes;again to begin to mumble to himself aloud.
'It's a conjurer's trick!--Of course!--Nothing more,--What else couldit be?--I'm not to be fooled.--I'm older than I was. I've beenoverdoing it,--that's all.'
Suddenly he broke into cries.
'Matthews! Matthews!--Help! help!'
Matthews entered the room, followed by three other men, younger thanhimself. Evidently all had slipped into the first articles of clothingthey could lay their hands upon, and each carried a stick, or somesimilar rudimentary weapon.
Their master spurred them on.
'Strike the revolver out of his hand, Matthews!--knock him down!--takethe letters from him!--don't be afraid!--I'm not afraid!'
In proof of it, he rushed at me, as it seemed half blindly. As he didso I was constrained to shout out, in tones which I should not haverecognised as mine,
'THE BEETLE!'
And that moment the room was all in darkness, and there were screams asof someone in an agony of terror or of pain. I felt that something hadcome into the room, I knew not whence nor how,--something of horror.And the next action of which I was conscious was, that under cover ofthe darkness, I was flying from the room, propelled by I knew not what.
The Beetle: A Mystery Page 7
