CHAPTER XLVII
CADMEIAN VICTORY
Before two o'clock of the following day Major Hockin and myself werein London, and ready to stay there for two or three days, if it shouldprove needful. Before leaving Bruntsea I had written briefly to LordCastlewood, telling him that important matters had taken me away fromShoxford, and as soon as I could explain them, I would come and tell himall about it. This was done only through fear of his being annoyed at myindependence.
From London Bridge the Major took a cab direct to Clerkenwell; and againI observed that of all his joys one of the keenest was to match his witsagainst a cabman's. "A regular muff, this time," he said, as he jerkedup and down with his usual delight in displaying great knowledge ofLondon; "no sport to be had out of him. Why, he stared at me when I said'Rosamond Street,' and made me stick on 'Clerkenwell.' Now here he istaking us down Snow Hill, when he should have been crossing Smithfield.Smithfield, cabby, Smithfield!"
"Certain, Sir, Smiffle, if you gives the order;" and he turned thepoor horse again, and took us up the hill, and among a great number ofbarriers. "No thoroughfare," "No thoroughfare," on all hands stretchedacross us; but the cabman threaded his way between, till he came to thebrink of a precipice. The horse seemed quite ready, like a Roman, toleap down it, seeing nothing less desirable than his present mode oflife, till a man with a pickaxe stopped him.
"What are you at?" cried the Major, with fury equalled by nothing excepthis fright. "Erema, untie my big rattan. Quick--quick--"
"Captain," said the cabman, coolly, "I must have another shilling forthis job. A hextra mile and a quarter, to your orders. You knows Lunnonso much better. Smiffle stopped--new railway--new meat market--neverheered of that now, did you?"
"You scoundrel, drive straight to the nearest police office."
"Must jump this little ditch, then, Captain. Five pun' fine for you,when we gets there. Hold on inside, old gentleman. Kuck, kuck, Bob, youwas a hunter once. It ain't more than fifty feet deep, my boy."
"Turn round! turn round, I tell you! turn round! If your neck isforfeit, you rogue, mine is not. I never was so taken in in my life!"Major Hockin continued to rave, and amid many jeers we retreated humbly,and the driver looked in at us with a gentle grin. "And I thought he wasso soft, you know! Erema, may I swear at him?"
"On no account," I said. "Why, after all, it is only a shilling, and theloss of time. And then, you can always reflect that you have discharged,as you say, a public duty, by protesting against a vile system."
"Protesting is very well, when it pays," the Major answered, gloomily;"but to pay for protesting is another pair of shoes."
This made him cross, and he grew quite fierce when the cabman smotehim for eight-pence more. "Four parcels on the roof, Captain," he said,looking as only a cabman can look at his money, and spinning his extrashilling. "Twopence each under new hact, you know. Scarcely thought ahofficer would 'a tried evasion."
"You consummate scoundrel--and you dress yourself like a countryman!I'll have your badge indorsed--I'll have your license marked. Erema, paythe thief; it is more than I can do."
"Captain, your address, if you please; I shall summon you for scurrilouslanguage, as the hact directs. Ah, you do right to be driven to a pawnshop."
Triumphantly he drove off, while the Major cried, "Never tie up myrattan again. Oh, it was Mrs. Hockin, was it? What a fool I was not tostop on my own manor!"
"I pray you to disdain such low impudence," I said, for I could not bearto see him shake like that, and grieved to have brought him into it."You have beaten fifty of them--a hundred of them--I have heard yousay."
"Certainly I have, my dear; but I had no Bruntsea then, and could notafford to pay the rogues. That makes me feel it so bitterly, so loftily,and so righteously. To be treated like this, when I think of all mylabors for the benefit of the rascally human race! my Institute, myLyceum, my Mutual Improvement Association, and Christian Young Men'ssomething. There is no institution, after all, to be compared to thetread-mill."
Recovering himself with this fine conclusion, he led me down a littlesloping alley, scarcely wide enough for a wheelbarrow, to an old blackdoor, where we set down our parcels; for he had taken his, whileI carried mine, and not knowing what might happen yet, like a truepeace-maker I stuck to the sheaf of umbrellas and the rattan cane. Andthankful I was, and so might be the cabman, to have that weapon nicelysheathed with silk.
Major Hockin's breath was short, through too much talking withoutaction, and he waited for a minute at this door, to come back to hisequanimity. And I thought that our female breath falls short for thevery opposite reason--when we do too much and talk too little; whichhappily seldom happens.
He was not long in coming back to his usual sprightliness and decision.And it was no small relief to me, who was looking at him miserably,and longing that his wife was there, through that very sadone-and-eightpence, when he pulled out a key, which he always carriedas signer and lord of Bruntsea, the key of the town-hall, which hadsurvived lock, door, and walls by centuries, and therewith struck a doorwhich must have reminded that key of its fine old youth.
Before he had knocked so very many times, the door was opened by a youngman wearing an apron and a brown paper cap, who knew Major Hockin atonce, and showed us up stairs to a long low workshop. Here were manywheels and plates and cylinders revolving by energy of a strap whichcame through the floor and went through the ceiling. And the young mantold us to be careful how we walked, for fear of getting entangled.Several men, wearing paper caps and aprons of leather or baize, weresitting doing dextrous work, no doubt, and doing it very easily, and themaster of them all was hissing over some fine touch of jewel as a groomdoes at a horse. Then seeing us, he dropped his holders, and threw aleather upon his large lens, and came and took us to a little side room.
"Are you not afraid to leave them?" asked the Major. "They may secretesome gems, Mr. Handkin."
"Never," said the lapidary, with some pride. "I could trust these menwith the Koh-i-noor; which we could have done better, I believe, thanit was done by the Hollanders. But we don't get the chance to do much indiamonds, through the old superstition about Amsterdam, and so on. No,no; the only thing I can't trust my men about is to work as hard whenI am away as when I am there. And now, Sir, what can I do for you? Anymore Bruntsea pebbles? The last were not worth the cutting."
"So you said; but I did not think so. We have some agates as good asany from Aberystwith or Perthshire. But what I want now is to open thiscase. It must be done quite privately, for a most particular reason. Itdoes open, doesn't it? I am sure it does."
"Certainly it opens," Mr. Handkin answered, while I trembled withanxiety as he lightly felt it round the edges with fingers engrainedwith corundum. "I could open it in one instant, but the enamel mightfly. Will you risk it?"
The Major looked at me, and I said, "Oh no; please not to risk anything, if any slower process will do it without risk. We want it donewithout injury."
"Then it will cost a good bit," he replied. "I can open it for fiveshillings, if you run the risk; if that rests with me, I must chargefive pounds."
"Say three," cried the Major. "Well, then, say four guineas: I have alot of work in store for you."
"I never overcharge, and I never depart from my figures," the lapidaryanswered. "There is only one other man in London who knows the secret ofthis enamel, and he is my brother. They never make such enamel now. Theart is lost, like that of the French paste of a hundred years ago,which almost puzzles even me until I go behind it. I will give youmy brother's address if you like; but instead of five pounds, he willcharge you ten guineas--if it must be done in private. Without thatcondition, I can do it for two pounds. You wish to know why that shouldmake such a difference. Well, for this simple reason: to make sure ofthe job, it must be done by daylight; it can be done only in my chiefwork-room; if no one is to see what I am about (and my men have sharpeyes, I can tell you), all my hands must be sacked for the afternoon,but not without their wages.
That alone would go far toward thedifference, and then there is the dropping of the jobs in hand, andwaste of power, and so on. I have asked you too little, Major Hockin, Iassure you; but having said, I will stick to it, although I would muchrather you would let me off."
"I have known you for many years," the Major answered--"ever since youwere a boy, with a flat box, working at our Cornish opals. You wouldhave done a lot of work for five pounds then. But I never knew youovercharge for any thing. We agree to your terms, and are obliged toyou. But you guarantee no damage?"
"I will open this locket, take out its contents, whatever they may be,and reclose it so that the maker, if still alive--which is not veryprobable--should not know that it had been meddled with."
"Very well; that is exactly what we want; for I have an idea about itwhich I may try to go on with afterward. And for that it is essential tohave no symptom that it ever has been opened. What are these brilliantsworth, Mr. Handkin?"
"Well, Sir, in the trade, about a hundred and fifty, though I dare saythey cost three hundred. And the portrait is worth another hundred, if Ifind on the back the marks I expect."
"You do not mean to say that you know the artist?" I could not helpexclaiming, though determined not to speak. "Oh, then, we shall find outevery thing!"
"Erema, you are a--well, you are a silly!" Major Hockin exclaimed, andthen colored with remembering that rather he should have let my lapsepass. But the lapidary seemed to pay no attention, only to be callingdown to some one far below. "Now mind what you say," the Major whisperedto me, just as if he were the essence of discretion.
"The work-room is clear now," Mr. Handkin said; "the fellows weredelighted to get their afternoon. Now you see that I have to take offthis hoop, and there lies the difficulty. I could have taken out thegold back, as I said, with very little trouble, by simply cutting it.But the locket would never have been quite the same, though we put anew back; and, more than that, the pressure of the tool might flawthe enamel, or even crack the portrait, for the make of this thing ispeculiar. Now first I submit the rim or verge, without touching thebrilliants, mind you, to the action of a little preparation of my own--agentle but penetrative solvent. You are welcome to watch me; you will benone the wiser; you are not in the trade, though the young lady looks asif she would make a good polisher. Very well: if this were an ordinaryclosure, with two flat surfaces meeting, the solvent would be absorbedinto the adhesion, expansion would take place, and there we have it. Butthis is what we call a cyme-joint, a cohesion of two curved surfaces,formed in a reflex curve which admits the solvent most reluctantly,or, indeed, not at all, without too long application. For that, then,another kind of process is needful, and we find it in frictionalheat applied most gradually and judiciously. For that I must have abuff-leather wheel, whose revolutions are timed to a nicety, and thatwheel I only have in this room. Now you see why I sent the men away."
Though I watched his work with great interest, it is out of my powerto describe it now, and, moreover, it is not needful. Major Hockin,according to his nature, grew quite restless and impatient, and evenwent out for a walk, with his cane unpacked and unsheathed againstcabmen. But I was content to wait and watch, having always heard andthought that good work will not do itself, but must have time andskill to second it. And Mr. Handkin, moving arms, palms, and fingersbeautifully, put the same thought into words.
"Good work takes a deal of time to do; but the man that does it all thetime knows well that it will take long to undo. Here it comes undone atlast!"
As he spoke, the excitable Major returned.
"Done it, eh? Well, you are a clever fellow. Now don't look inside it;that is no part of your business, nor mine either, unless this younglady desires it. Hand it to her first, my friend."
"Wait half a minute," said the lapidary; "it is so far opened that thehoop spins round, but it must not be taken off until it cools. The ladymay lift it then with care. I have done this job as a piece of fine art;I have no wish to see any more of it."
"Handkin, don't you be so touchy to a brother Cornishman. I thought thatI was Cornish enough, but you go cliffs beyond me."
"Well, Major Hockin," the lapidary answered, "I beg your pardon, if Isaid harm. But a man doing careful and skilled work--and skilled workit is, at every turn of the hand, as miss can bear witness, while youwalked off--he don't care who it is, Major Hockin, he would fight hisown brother to maintain it."
"Very well, very well. Let us come away. I always enter into everybody's feelings. I see yours as clearly, Handkin, as if you had laidthem open on that blessed wheel. My insight has always been remarkable.Every one, without exception, says that of me. Now come away, comeaway--will you never see?"
Intent as I was upon what lay in my left palm relaxing itself, I couldnot help being sorry for the way in which the man of art, after all hiscare, was ground down by his brother Cornishman. However, he had livedlong enough in the world to feel no surprise at ingratitude.
Now I went to one of the windows, as the light (which had been verygood) began to pale from its long and labored sufferance of London,and then, with soft and steady touch, I lifted off the loosened hoop. Asmell of mustiness--for smells go through what nothing else can--wasthe first thing to perceive, and then, having moved the disk of gold, Ifound a piece of vellum. This was doubled, and I opened it, and read, insmall clear writing:
"May 7, 1809 A.D., George, Lord Castlewood, married Winifred, only childof Thomas Hoyle, as this his signature witnesseth.
"CASTLEWOOD.
"(Witness) THOMAS HOYLE."
There was nothing more inside this locket, except two little wisps ofhair tied with gold thread, and the miniature upon ivory, bearing on theback some anagram, probably that of the artist.
Already had I passed through a great many troubles, changes, chances,and adventures which always seem strange (when I come to look back), butnever surprised me at the moment. Indeed, I might almost make bold topronounce that not many persons of my age and sex have been visited,wholly against their own will, by such a series of incidents, not to saymarvelous, but at any rate fairly to be called unusual. And throughoutthem perhaps it will be acknowledged by all who have cared to considerthem, that up to the present time I did not fail more than themselvesmight have done in patience. And in no description of what came topass have I colored things at all in my own favor--at least so far asintention goes--neither laid myself out to get sympathy, though it oftenwould have done me a world of good.
But now I am free to confess that my patience broke down very sadly.Why, if what was written on that vellum was true, and Major Hockincorrect as well, it came to no less than this, that my own dear fatherwas a base-born son, and I had no right to the name I was so proud of!If, moreover, as I now began to dream, that terrible and mysteriousman did not resemble my father so closely without some good reason,it seemed too likely that he might be his elder brother and the properheir.
This was bad enough to think of, but an idea a thousandfold worseassailed me in the small hours of the night, as I lay on Mrs. Strouss'sbest bed, which she kept for consuls, or foreign barons, or others whomshe loved to call "international notorieties." Having none of these now,she assigned me that bed after hearing all I had to say, and not makingall that she might have done of it, because of the praise that wouldfall to Mrs. Busk.
However, she acknowledged that she knew nothing of the history of "thepoor old lord." He might have carried on, for all she could tell, withmany wives before his true one--a thing she heard too much of; butas for the Captain not being his true son and the proper heir to thepeerage, let any one see him walk twice, and then have a shadow of adoubt about it! This logic pleased but convinced me not, and I had to goto bed in a very unhappy, restless, and comfortless state of mind.
I hope that, rather than myself, that bed, full of internationalconfusion, is to blame for the wicked ideas which assailed me while Icould not even try to sleep. One of them--and a loyal daughter couldscarcely have a worse one--was that my own dear
father, knowing LordCastlewood's bad behavior, and his own sad plight in consequence, andthrough that knowledge caring little to avenge his death, for wife andchildren's sake preferred to foil inquiry rather than confront thetruth and challenge it. He might not have meant to go so far, at firstbeginning with it; but, starting once, might be driven on by grievousloss, and bitter sense of recreant friends, and the bleak despair of ahomeless world before him. And serving as the scape-goat thus, he mighthave received from the real culprit a pledge for concealment of thefamily disgrace.
Erema; Or, My Father's Sin Page 47
