Produced by Greg Weeks, Stephen Blundell and the OnlineDistributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net
TALES OF THE WONDER CLUB.
BY DRYASDUST
[Decoration]
ILLUSTRATED BY JOHN JELLICOE AND VAL PRINCE, AFTER DESIGNS BY THE AUTHOR.
HARRISON & SONS, 59, PALL MALL, _Booksellers to the Queen and H.R.H. the Prince of Wales._
_All rights reserved._
LONDON: PRINTED BY A. HUDSON AND CO., 16, WANDSWORTH ROAD, S.W.
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS.
PAGE
FRONTISPIECE --
TITLE PAGE --
THE PHANTOM FLEA 17
THE SPIRIT LOVERS 57
THE GLACIER KING 118
THE MERMAID 129
THE PIGMY QUEEN 202
THE SPIRIT LEG 314
LOST IN THE CATACOMBS 373
INTRODUCTION.
A PEEP AT THE WONDER CLUB.
Towards the close of the last century there stood in one of the Midlandcounties of England, in the centre of two cross-roads, a venerablehostelry, built in the reign of Elizabeth, and known by the sign of "YeHeadless Lady." Its ancient gables were shaded by luxuriant elms andbeech trees. The woodwork of the building and its weather-stained wallsof brick were partially overgrown with thick ivy, while its high,dingy-red roof was tinted with every variety of lichen. The windows werenarrow, and the framework heavy, as is usual in houses of that period.
The host of this establishment, one Jack Hearty, was one of the oldschool of landlords--robust, jovial, and never above his business. Hisfathers had owned the inn before him, and "he never wished to be abetter man than his father, nor a worse either, for the matter of that,"as he would say. All day long, when not engaged with his customersindoors, he was to be seen at the door of his inn, with his apron girtaround him, and a "yard of clay" at his lips, straining his eyes downthe long cross-roads for the first glimpse of a customer.
Often after gazing long and intently into the distance he would turnback with a sigh, knock the ashes from his pipe, refill it, take a deepdraught of his own home-brewed ale, then, if none of his customersrequired anything, and the affairs of his household permitted it, hewould sally out again. This time, perhaps, his eyes would be greeted bythe sight of a solitary wayfarer, or, better still, the stage-coach.Then it was that the honest landlord's face would brighten up, as it wascertain to bring him some of the "big-wigs" from town. He would rub hishands and chuckle, while Dame Hearty would begin to bustle about towelcome the fresh arrivals. It was not often, however, that the"Headless Lady" was entirely deserted.
A small clique or brotherhood, known as "The Wonder Club," had beennightly in the habit of assembling here for years, and this served tobring grist to the mill. Some of the eminent men from the neighbouringvillage, among whom were the doctor, the lawyer, an antiquary, ananalytical chemist, and others, had formed among themselves a club,which was to consist only of very choice spirits, like themselves, andif any guest were introduced among them, it was only to be with a letterof introduction and the full consent of all parties. By these strictrules they hoped to keep the club select. A room at the inn was setapart for them, into which no one not belonging to the club everpresumed to enter, unless it was the landlord, who would be called everynow and then to replenish the bowl, and whom sometimes the guests ofthe club would "draw out," as it was whispered in the village that thelandlord of the "Headless Lady" knew a rare lot of stories, he did; alsohow to tell 'em, too, my word! but these he generally reserved for hismore intimate customers. One strict law of the club that we have not yetmentioned was that no guest invited was to be a "business man." Should acommercial traveller ever have the hardihood to enter the sacredprecincts of the club, he was assailed with a battery of glances fromthe members that must have completely cowed him, unless he were a man ofmore than usual strength of nerve; but as this rarely happened, all suchoutward manifestations of contempt were kept within due bounds. Businesswas, of course, tabooed; even politics were only admitted on sufferanceand by a special permission of the chairman. There was one evening inthe year, however, when the chairman never granted any such permission,and that was on the anniversary of the founding of the club. On thisevening such subjects as business and politics would have been crieddown, and the daring introducer of the obnoxious themes would have beencondemned to drink a cup of cold water on his bended knees by way ofexpiating his offence. No subjects of public or private interest weretolerated on this evening, or, indeed, on any other. The chief delightof this club was to tell or to listen to stories which were all more orless of the marvellous class, and which each took it by turn to relateto the rest, the strictest silence and order being preserved during therecital. The evening that we are about to describe to the reader was thetenth anniversary of the founding of the club. This was a very grandevent. For any one of its members or guests, whether married or single,to have been absent, on this occasion would have been little less thanan insult to the rest. Let us try to give our readers a glimpse of theclub room and its guests on this memorable evening.
Imagine, then, a large room with low ceiling and walls of dark oakpanel, a large old-fashioned fireplace with dogs, and a Yule log blazingon the hearth. The curtains are old and embroidered, and closely drawn.The room is well lighted, and in the middle is a long table, at which,through a cloud of tobacco smoke, a party of nine--all lords of thecreation--may be discovered. A bowl of punch is in the centre of thetable, at which every now and then each guest replenishes his glass. Mr.Oldstone, the antiquary, has been elected chairman. Watch with whatdignity he fills his post of honour. Look! he rises and thumps thetable. He is going to make a speech. The strictest silence reigns; youmight hear a pin drop.
"Gentlemen," began the worthy chairman, after one or two preliminary"hems," "it is with feelings of mixed pride and pleasure that I feelmyself called upon to-night to preside at this most honourable meeting."(Hear, hear!) The chairman resumed, "This is the tenth anniversary ofour club of choice spirits (cheers), and so shamefully nicknamed by ourenemies 'The Morbid Club.' (Groans.) Irritated at our exclusiveness, andenvious at the reports of the superior talent that circulates nightly atour table, and which bursts into a halo of genius on our greatsaturnalias, what wonder, gentlemen, if the worthy members of our selectclub should make enemies out of their own circle? Only 'birds of afeather flock together,' and perhaps the contempt of our enemies is thebest compliment they can pay us." (Hear, hear! and various shouts andyells of delight, amid clapping of hands, stamping, and rattling ofglasses.) Here the chairman paused to take breath, and then, after apreliminary sip at his glass of punch, proceeded.
"Gentlemen, I feel duly sensible of the honour conferred upon me thisevening in being selected to preside at our meeting on this veryimportant occasion, an honour which I feel unable to support, and forwhich I feel my abilities so inadequate. (No, no!) Gentlemen, we are acompany of nine this evening, the number of the muses--the omen isauspicious. I see around me faces that were present at the inaugurationof our club, ten years ago, though others, alas! have gone to their longrest." Here the speaker was visibly moved, and passed his hand over hiseyes to wipe away an incipient tear. Then, recovering himself, "Need Iproceed, gentlemen? Need I trespass longer upon the time and patience ofguests so illustrious? (Yes, yes!) Then, gentlemen," continued thespeaker, "I would but detain you one mome
nt longer, to propose thefollowing toast, to be drunk with three times three. (Hear, hear!) 'Longlive the "Wonder Club," and all its choice members.'" Here thepresident, at the conclusion of his speech, held a bumper above hishead, and repeated the toast with the rest of the company, with a "Hip,hip, hip, hurrah!" "May their brains be as fertile as the plains ofElysium, and may the fame of the 'Wonder Club' spread to the ends of theearth." This sentiment was followed by a burst of applause.
In the midst of the stamping, cheering, and rattling of glasses thatensued a knock was heard at the door. Who could it be? The landlord? Itwas not his wont to disturb the club for a trifle. He only made hisappearance when called for. What was it? Was the inn on fire? Who couldventure to disturb the solemn meeting of the "Wonder Club" on theirtenth anniversary? One of the members rose from his seat and opened thedoor ajar, still holding the handle in his hand.
"Who is it? What do you want at this hour?" he asked.
"I beg pardon, gentlemen," said the voice of the honest landlordwithout, "for disturbing the company; but a gentleman has just brought aletter for the chairman, and I thought it _might_ be important.Leastways, I thought it wouldn't be much harm to deliver it at once.The gentleman has sent in his card. Excuse the interruption, sirs; Ihope no offence."
The letter was delivered to Mr. Oldstone. He glanced at the card.
"What, a visitor!" he said; "and at this time of night. Let me tell you,landlord--ahem--that this is a most unwarrantable infringementof--er--er--of the rules laid down by--er--eh? Stay, what have we here?Excuse me, gentlemen, while I break the seal. Ha! from my old friendRustcoin. You remember him, gentlemen--my brother antiquary, formerly amember of our club. He writes from Rome:
"'MY DEAR FRIEND,--I dare say you are surprised to hear from me again,after my long silence. The fact is that I had put off writing to you,having some time ago formed a resolution of returning to England, when Ihoped to surprise you by suddenly appearing unexpectedly in time for thetenth anniversary of the inauguration of our club. Certain affairs,however, have prevented me from being present myself in the flesh, but Ibeg to introduce to your notice my young friend, Mr. Vandyke McGuilp, anartist who has for some time past been prosecuting his studies here inRome. He is a young man of talent and genius, possessing a great fund ofstories of the marvellous and supernatural order, such as your clubparticularly prides itself on. He is quite one of our sort, and youwould be doing me a great favour to introduce him to the rest of themembers. If he could arrive in time for your grand saturnalia, I shouldbe doubly pleased.--Your old friend,
"'CHARLES RUSTCOIN.'"
"Well, gentlemen," said the president, "what do you say to that? Shallthe neophyte be admitted? You see, he is not a commercial traveller, nora business man, but an artist; one of those restless strivers after theideal. A traveller, too--a man full of stories, like one of us. What doyou say--shall he be admitted?"
The guests gave an unanimous consent, and the next moment our hostushered the stranger into the club-room. All eyes were directed towardsthe stranger. He was a young man, bordering on thirty, about the middleheight, who, contrary to the custom of the period, wore his own hair,which at that time was considered extremely vulgar. He wore a slouch hatinstead of the usual three-cornered shape, and an Italian cloak thrownover the left shoulder.
He doffed his hat with dignity and courtesy as he entered the apartment,and after shaking the snow from his cloak (for it had been snowing hardwithout that night, being in December), he handed cloak and hat to thelandlord and accepted the offer of a chair that Mr. Oldstone had placedfor him near the fire.
"Here! mine host," shouted Mr. Oldstone, "bring another log, and seethat you make this gentleman comfortable to-night, for I see withoutasking him any questions that he is one of our set."
"Ay, ay, sir," said the landlord, who was just leaving the room. "Neverfear, sir, I'll see to the gentleman's wants, and my old woman will warmthe bed, for it's a nasty night to be out in. My blessed eyes, how itsnows! The gentleman must have had pressing business with you, sir, tobring him out here such a night as this."
"No, my good host," replied the artist; "nothing more than a desire tobe present at the tenth anniversary of the club that I have heard somuch about."
The host looked astonished, and the guests felt flattered. Thelandlord's respect for the members of the club was augmentedconsiderably.
"Well, well; to think of that, now," he muttered to himself. "To thinkthat this gentleman should trouble himself to come from who knows howfar off, just to be present at the tenth anniversary of _our_ club, andon such a night as this, too."
"By the by, Mr. Hearty," said the new comer to the landlord: "I believethat's your name, is it not?"
"The same, sir; Jack Hearty, at your service, sir."
"Well, then, Jack Hearty, I have just come from foreign parts, where Ihave left an old customer of yours; one Mr. Rustcoin, a great friend ofMr. Oldstone's. Do you recollect him?"
"_Recollect_ him!" exclaimed the landlord. "Ay, indeed, sir, do I; apleasanter gentleman over his bottle of port or over his bowl of punchhasn't crossed my threshold since he left it. Many's the good yarn wewould have together. I hope you left him very well, sir?"
"In excellent health, thank you, Jack," said the stranger. "He desiredto be remembered to you."
"Thank you, sir," said the host.
"Yes; those slippers will do," said the new guest.
"Draw near to the table, my friend," said Mr. Oldstone, "for I mustintroduce you to the other members and guests here to-night."
"My friends," said the chairman, "this gentleman is Mr. Vandyke McGuilp,an artist from Rome, great friend of my old chum Rustcoin, whom most ofyou knew. Mr. McGuilp, this gentleman on my right is Mr. Hardcase, thelawyer, who will be the first to relate a story to-night. On his rightis Dr. Bleedem, one of our celebrated physicians; next to him is Mr.Cyanite, professor of geology, and then comes Mr. Blackdeed, one of oureminent tragedians; next to him is Mr. Parnassus, a young poet of greatpromise; after him is Mr. Crucible, analytical chemist, one of theoldest members of our club; next to him, as guest to-night, is CaptainToughyarn, commander of Her Majesty's good ship the _Dreadnought_; then,next door neighbour to yourself is Mr. Jollytoast, celebrated lowcomedian."
The new visitor bowed to each guest at the table with urbanity, and theguests returned the salute cordially.
"Well, gentlemen," began the president, "what do you say to a bumper tothe health of our new guest?"
"Hear, hear!" cried the guests, unanimously.
Each filled up his glass from the punch-bowl, and our artist's healthwas drunk with cheers, to which he responded in a short and modestspeech. (Applause.)
"And now, Mr. Hardcase," said the chairman, after the formalities weregone through, "I think it was arranged that you should tell the firststory. I hope you have one ready. I am anxious for my young friend tohear a specimen of our far-famed recitals. In this club," said Mr.Oldstone, addressing the artist, "we always esteem those stories thehighest that are true, and especially if they are facts coming under theexperience of the relater. What sort of story may we expect from youto-night, Mr. Hardcase?"
"The story I intended to start the club with to-night is one that Imyself took part in in my younger days, and which, although I neverrelated to any of the club before, I have been upon the point ofrelating a hundred times, when I have been invariably interrupted bysomeone else who had some other tale to relate. The story I have instore for you this evening, gentlemen, I propose to entitle 'The PhantomFlea.'"
"Ha, Bravo!" laughed the guests. "The Phantom Flea! Ha! ha! ha!"
"I assure you, gentlemen," said the lawyer, gravely, "that the narrativeI am about to relate is not one to provoke mirth. It is of a solemncharacter, I can promise you. No one felt less inclined to laugh than Idid when I was reluctantly compelled to take part in this tragedy.Though by no means a timid man, I, nevertheless, experienced a sort ofcold shiver all down my b
ack when----"
"Exactly so," said the doctor.
"And each particular hair to stand on end like quills upon the fretfulporcupine," quoted Mr. Blackdeed, the tragedian.
"Belay that," roared Captain Toughyarn, from the depths of hisstentorian lungs, "and make room on board for the 'Phantom Flea.'"
"Bedad, and sure I feel myself itching all over alriddy," broke in Mr.Jollytoast, assuming an Irish brogue, and scratching himself.
"Order, order! Chair, chair!" called out other guests.
"Silence! gentlemen," said Mr. Oldstone, with authority, thumping on thetable; "the story is just about to commence."
"The performance is just a-goin' to begin," broke in the incorrigiblelittle comedian, assuming the air of a showman. "Valk up, valk up,ladies and gentlemen."
"Hush! Mr. Jollytoast," said the antiquary. "Hush! gentlemen, for the'Phantom Flea.'"
"Tremulous music, lights half down," muttered the tragedian; but he wasinstantly silenced by the chairman.
Mr. Oldstone gave one final authoritative thump on the table, andglanced severely at all the guests. The silence that ensued was awful,while Mr. Hardcase, after a sip at his glass and a puff at his longchurchwarden, began his story in the following manner:
Tales of the Wonder Club, Volume I Page 1
