Great Porter Square: A Mystery. v. 3

by B. L. Farjeon

  CHAPTER XXXVII.

  NO. 119 GREAT PORTER SQUARE IS LET TO A NEW TENANT.

  To the closed shutters of No. 119 Great Porter Square was attacheda board, on which were painted the words, "This House to Let onreasonable terms, or the Lease to be sold. Apply to Mr. Stapleton,House Agent, Great Andrew Street, Bloomsbury." The board had growndisconsolate-looking and disreputable, as though it was a partner inthe disgrace which had fallen upon the tenement.

  At the time the notice "To Let" was attached to the shutters, the agenthad no hope whatever of letting the house. "There isn't a chance ofanybody taking it," he said, "for at least three months." The threemonths passed, and no probable tenant had made his appearance. "There'snothing for it but patience," he then said. "Would _you_ live in thehouse?" asked his wife, when he was dilating upon the folly of peopleallowing such a chance to escape them. "Not for untold gold!" hereplied. "Well then!" she exclaimed; winding up the argument thus, asis the way with women.

  He was much astonished, therefore, upon returning to his office from hismid-day chop, to find a gentleman waiting to see him, who, closing thedoor of the little private room in which he transacted special business,asked him if No. 119 Great Porter Square was still to let.

  "Yes," said Mr. Stapleton; "the board's up; you can see it as you passthe house."

  "I have not passed through Great Porter Square for a long time," saidthe gentleman, "and I was not aware that a board was up. I was directedto come to you by a friend, who told me you were the agent."

  "Do you wish to take the house?" asked Mr. Stapleton, looking with somesuspicion upon his prospective client.

  "I should have no objection," said the gentleman, "If I can have it onmy own terms----"

  "On any terms," interrupted Mr. Stapleton, a little too eagerly, andadding, in correction of his over-haste, "that is, for a certaintime--after which, of course, we expect a fair rent. The prejudiceagainst the place _must_ wear away one time or another."

  "But the murder remains," observed the gentleman, sadly; "time will notwear that away."

  "True," said Mr. Stapleton, coughing; "nothing can wear that away. But Irefer to the sentiment, the feeling, the prejudice."

  "You interrupted me just now," said the gentleman, coming back to thepractical. "I was about to say that I should have no objection to takethe house if I can have it on my own terms and conditions. By 'terms' Idon't mean money. I have no doubt we shall agree upon the question ofrent."

  "We will put the house in repair for you," said Mr. Stapleton; "you canchoose your own paper, and we will give it three good coatings of paintoutside. In fact, anything you can suggest we shall be most happy toconsider."

  "I have nothing to suggest," said the gentleman, "and I do not proposeto put you to the expense of a shilling for repairs. I will take thehouse just as it is, if my conditions are complied with."

  Mr. Stapleton looked gravely at his visitor, and said, as he rubbed hischin:

  "I don't think we could let the house for the purposes of exhibition."

  "Good God!" cried the gentleman, "I should hope not. It would be makinga trade of murder!"

  "My sentiments exactly," acquiesced Mr. Stapleton, "only you expressthem so much more forcibly." At the same time, he began to regard thegentleman as a very queer customer indeed, and to wonder why he was solong in coming to the point. Had he been aware of the gentleman's inwardagitation and anxiety, and of what depended upon the result of thisapplication, his wonder would have been lessened, and he might haveraised the rent instead of lowering it.

  "May I ask what are your conditions?"

  "The first and most important," replied the gentleman, "is secresy. Iwish no one to know that I have taken the house; I wish no one to knowthat it is let. The board will remain up; the house will remain as itis. All that I shall require of you is the key of the street-door. Theseconditions complied with, I will pay you six months' rent in advance,and I will make myself responsible for another six months. It is morethan probable--nay, it is almost certain--that before three months areover I shall hand you back the key, with the rent for the additional sixmonths. As a matter of bargain, it is not a bad one for you."

  "I admit it," said Mr. Stapleton; "what I have to consider, on the otherhand, is whether it is a good thing for the house."

  "Do you think you can do better?"

  "I do not think I could; yours is the first application I have hadsince the murder was committed. You shudder, sir! It is enough to makeone. If I had not been an agent for the estate, nothing would haveinduced me to undertake the letting of such a house. What am I to say incase another person, seeing the board still up, applies to me for theparticulars?"

  "Say that, although the board remains, you have decided not to let thehouse for two or three months. No one can compel you to let it."

  "Certainly not--certainly not," said Mr. Stapleton. "You will excuse myremarking that there is something very mysterious in all this, and thatyou appear singularly anxious to take the house."

  "Your remark is a natural one. There _is_ something mysterious in it,and I _am_ most anxious to become your tenant."

  "You are candid enough in that respect, I must say. Will you favour mewith your name and references?--you have references, of course; they areindispensable."

  "I have references, with which you will be satisfied. But I cannot givethem to you, nor can I disclose my name, until you say the house ismine, on my conditions--to which I must add another: that my name is notentered on your books for your clerks to comment upon and prattle about.If you agree, and my references are satisfactory, the matter can beconcluded at once. If they are not satisfactory, I cannot expect youto accept me as a tenant. It will be a grief to me, but I shall becompelled to submit, and must seek another mode of carrying out mydesigns."

  So much was Mr. Stapleton's curiosity excited that he consented to theproposed arrangement.

  "Now for the references," he said.

  "I will take you to them," responded the gentleman. "I am most earnestlydesirous that the affair be concluded immediately. Charge me what youplease for your loss of time in accompanying me, and believe that if itbe in my power to show my gratitude to you by-and-bye, I shall not missthe opportunity."

  Unusual as was this mode of conducting his business, Mr. Stapletonconsented, and accompanied the gentleman to a house in the mostfashionable part of London, where he obtained a recommendation inevery way satisfactory, and then to a common locality, where a privatedetective, known to him by name, vouched for the respectability of hisproposed tenant.

  "Is this a police affair, then?" he asked of the detective.

  "Perhaps it is and perhaps it isn't," replied the detective. "Whatyou've got to do with it is to take your rent, and keep your mouthshut."

  "A wink's as good as a nod," said Mr. Stapleton, and departed withhis tenant to his office, where the preliminaries were completed, andthe rent paid to him. He whistled softly when he heard the name ofthe tenant, which was given to him in confidence, but he took thedetective's advice, and kept his mouth shut--except to his wife, uponhis return home; but even to her he would impart nothing more thanthat he had that day transacted the strangest piece of business in hisexperience.

  Long before this strange piece of business was concluded, Becky hadreceived the following reply to her letter:

  "MY DARLING,--Your news is most important, and little Fanny has earnedmy undying gratitude. As for yourself, I am at a loss what to say. Theevidences of indomitable spirit you have displayed have filled me withwonder. It is given to me to know, as no other man has ever known, ofwhat a noble woman's love is capable. You would inspire a dying man withhope and courage; but remember, you are a woman, and can only do, undercertain circumstances, what it is in a woman's power to do. You havethe heart of the bravest man, but you have not his strength. I know thevillain Pelham, otherwise Richard Manx, to be a coward, but it is hardto say to what extremes a desperate man, brought to bay, may be driven.False courage may come to him in su
ch a crisis--to last most likely butfor a few minutes, or seconds even, but long enough to do a deed whichmay bring life-long sorrow to a loving heart--to my loving heart, whichbeats for you, as yours beats for me. Such a risk must not be run. Youcould cope, I believe, better than I could with such a creature as mymurdered father's widow, upon whose soul lies the guilt of the death oftwo noble gentlemen, but you are not the equal of villains like Pelham,who would strike a woman, and tremble in the presence of a man. I feelfaint to think of the peril you were in when you and your brave littlefriend entered Richard Manx's room in the dead of night. You do notrealise it; I do, and I must take some step to avert danger from thegirl I love, and to bring the murderer of my father to justice. Thetime for watching is over; the time for action has arrived. It is nowfor me to take up the thread of evidence which you have woven, and tostrengthen it into a chain from which the guilty cannot escape. Time istoo precious to waste; not another day, not another hour, must be lost.I agree with you that Pelham has reason to suspect that my dear fatherleft behind him, and concealed, a document which may re-establish mein my place among men, and supply damning evidence against those whobrought him to his death. It is, I see well, the only direct evidenceupon which we can rely--for though Pelham, by coming to your house undera disguise, and by his subsequent actions, has laid himself open to thegravest suspicion and to certain disgrace, I doubt whether what could bebrought against him would be sufficiently strong to clear up the awfulmystery of my father's murder. And that is my first duty--to leave nostone unturned, to work with all my strength and cunning, with all myheart and soul and body, to satisfy the claims of justice. My father'sblood calls out to me to devote myself utterly, to risk every danger,to die if need be, in the pursuit and accomplishment of this sacredduty. To bring disgrace upon Pelham is not sufficient--has he notalready reached that end in his life and character? Something more thansuspicious motive is needed, and I will not rest till he is hunted down,and his guilt brought home to him. Again and again I implore you toleave him now entirely to me. Go up to his room no more, or you may marthe steps I have already taken, and am about to take. I have told youthat, when I was living in my dear father's house, I had in my employ adetective who tracked the shameless woman to an appointment with Pelham,and through whose instrumentality I hoped to open my father's eyes tothe true character of the wife who was disgracing him. You know howshe worked upon my father's deep love for her, and frustrated my justdesign. The use of the detective was, and is, revolting to me, but therewas (and to a certain extent is) no other way of obtaining evidence.This detective, with men under him, is again in my employ. It was hewho brought my Statement to you when I lately returned from Liverpool.Mr. Pelham, in his own proper person, and in the disguise he hasassumed, is now under strict surveillance; and the partner of his guilt,my father's widow, is also being watched. Not a movement outside theirhouses will escape notice; nor shall they escape, in their own persons,if they make the attempt. I think something of the kind is meditated,for Mrs. Holdfast--it maddens me to think that I must call her by thename which I hope you will one day bear--is converting into money all myfather's property, and she is not doing this without a motive. Let herbeware! The sword is hanging over her head, and may fall at any moment.I can imagine no greater misery for this woman than to be thrust uponthe world in a state of poverty. For even if she could be proved guiltyof nothing but love's treachery as regards my father, I shall have nopity for her. She has tasted the pleasures of wealth, and it wouldpoison all her after-life to be deprived of it. I write bitterly, and Ido not attempt to disguise my feelings. The face of this woman--fair,alas! but that is one of the mockeries of nature--as it rises before me,seems almost to blight the sweet beauty which lies in innocence, truthand purity. Forgive me for my bitterness; I have suffered much; had itnot been for you I should have lost all faith in goodness. How much Iowe you!

  "It does not surprise me to learn, through Fanny's reading of the letterwhich Mr. Pelham gave her to deliver to Mrs. Holdfast, that Pelham andshe are at variance upon monetary matters. Such natures as theirs are ofnecessity grasping and avaricious, and although they are bound to eachother by the closest and most dangerous ties, there cannot possibly beharmony between them; experience has made each suspicious of the other,and has shown them, through the mirror of their own souls, how little oftruth and honesty they can expect from each other. Had my father dieda natural death, I should have been content to leave them to their ownpunishment--bitterer than any enemy could have made it for them.

  "By to-night's train a messenger leaves for Paris; to-morrow morning hewill receive at the Poste Restante the letter Mrs. Holdfast wrote toFanny's imaginary sister, Nelly. There may be nothing in it, but I havecaught the inspiration of your own bold spirit; not a chance must belost sight of. The messenger will open and read the letter in Paris,and, if necessary, he will reply to it and post his reply there. This,in any event, will avert suspicion from your brave little Fanny--Godbless her!--in case she and Mrs. Holdfast should meet again.

  "You will readily understand that the expenses of all these proceedingsare more than I could meet, in my present position, unless I had at myback a rich and generous friend. I have that friend in Adolph, who knowseverything; I have concealed nothing from him; his indignation againstour enemies, and his sympathy for ourselves, are unbounded. He hassupplied me with ample means, not caring, he says, whether the money isever repaid. After all, my dear, there is more light than shadow in theworld.

  "With my dearest love, for ever yours, "FREDERICK."

  [Decoration]