littered--the antique chests, the old carvedcabinets, dainty pieces of Chippendale and Sheraton, with here and therea heathen idol or an Egyptian mummy case flanked by vessels andcandelabra torn from holy places in Christian churches. All were flungpell-mell together, as though the man who owned them despised them, andhad deposited them there as so much lumber, instead of being, as theyreally were, worth thousands and thousands of pounds.
Right at the back part of the room we were delighted to find a trap-doorlet into the floor, and raising this we dropped into a clean, if small,recess, which in times past had doubtless been used for storing valuableold pictures, for in different places we found several canvases that hadbeen taken out of their frames and carefully deposited and packed withtheir faces to the wall. From the position of a tiny window that hadbeen let into the far end I gathered that at length we had reached aposition over the parlour in which I felt sure we should come upon thehunchback. So, closing the trap-door upon us, we went down on our handsand knees and set to bore experimental holes between the rafters, to seewhether we could distinguish our exact whereabouts.
After two or three disappointments we succeeded in locating the room Iwas in search of, and, to our delight, found Peter Zouche there, curledup in the great chair-bedstead which he ordinarily used as an arm-chairnear the fire. He had evidently just awoke and lit his fire, for he sathuddled over the burning sticks near a tiny kettle which was steamingmerrily, his eyes fixed blankly in space, as though his mind were lostin the maze of some profound speculation.
For some minutes he did not move at all. Then suddenly he seemed tocome to some rapid decision, for he sprang out of the chair and wenthurriedly to an old Dutch cupboard in a recess, from which he took a bigsquare steel box, like a Foreign Office despatch box, painted mahoganycolour, with heavy brass clamps at the corners.
"The manuscripts!" whispered Casteno excitedly as he saw the old manthrust a long skinny hand into his trouser pocket and produce therefroma bunch of jangling keys. But I shook my head. I remembered thehunchback's boast to Mr Cooper-Nassington that he had hidden thoseprecious documents in a place where they could be found only by himself.That ordinary-looking safe would attract the attention of the mostcareless and superficial of burglars.
As it chanced, there were three or four padlocks attached to the case,and each one had to be opened by a separate key, so that over a minuteelapsed before the Hunchback succeeded in raising the lid and indisclosing to view what the box really contained--a neat-fitting wig ofblack and a beard. These he fitted on his head and face, giving him theappearance of some Polish Jew who had but newly arrived on thesehospitable shores.
"What on earth can he be up to?" interjected Casteno, who was really nowworked up to a painful degree of nervous tension.
"Nothing good, I'm certain," I returned rather grimly. "My experiencehas always been that, when men are ashamed of their own features in theordinary business of life, they are also ashamed of the deeds which theypropose to do with a false countenance."
All this time, however, old Peter was busy in putting the finishingtouches to his disguise--in changing his coat and vest, in donning somegreasy rags, which he rounded off by a muffler, a coat green with age,and a slouch hat so dirty and worn that few would venture to pick it upfrom the street, much less place it on their own heads. Finally, aftera long and narrow inspection in a beautiful old Venetian mirror thathung on the wall, he seemed satisfied with the change he had effected inhis appearance, for he stepped briskly to the mantelpiece and touched asmall electric bell, which sounded somewhere high above our heads.
For a moment it looked as though the summons would not be answered. Butonly for a moment. Later we caught the sounds of tired feet clampingheavily down the wooden stairs until they reached the shop level, thenthe door of the parlour (I can call it nothing else, it was so typicalof its middle-class namesake), was thrust open, and a youth enteredbearing a most extraordinary resemblance to my companion Don JoseCasteno!
Unfortunately, I hadn't time to remark on this further before thehunchback himself began to speak, and I had to bend all my energies andsenses to catching the drift of the conversation, which was carried onin a low foreign-sounding tone.
"Well, Paul," began the hunchback briskly, "I have taken your advice,like a good father, and have disguised myself in the costume yousuggested. What do you think of the transformation? Is it a success?"
"It will do all right," said the tired-looking youth sullenly. "Onlytake care how you hold your shoulders. Most people give themselves awayby the fashion in which they carry themselves, and you, as a hunchback,worst of all."
Zouche, like most deformed persons, was painfully sensitive, but to mysurprise he did not seem to resent the youth's bluntness. "Any otheradvice?" he proceeded, "mind, I want all your tips. I may be gone for along time."
"No," said the youth he called Paul, slowly and critically. "There'snot much to find fault with just at present. Don't get excited, though,whatever happens. Train your hands not to reveal your true feelings,and, above all, distort that tell-tale voice of yours. Pal in with someforeigner for a day or two, and pick up his trick of speech andintonation."
"I will, I will," replied the hunchback. "And now for thosemanuscripts. Have you prepared those dummies?"
"Yes," answered Paul. "Here they are--the three of them--and I've takenso much pains with the writing which I have faked on them that I woulddefy anybody to tell, under a day's examination with microscope andacid, that they are not the real, genuine article you bought for onethousand eight hundred pounds at the sale of Father Calasanctius'effects at the auction mart."
"Good," cried Zouche, rubbing his hands together in the most approvedmethod of the Jewish pedlar. "Pass them over to me." And the youthproduced from a leather case which he had been carrying unperceived byhis side three documents so exactly like the real thing I had fought forthat I could have sworn myself that they were in real truth the threecoveted manuscripts of the sacred lake!
The hunchback, however, did not pass them lightly. He took each oneover to the window and examined it with great care, and only when he hadassured himself that certain marks were present on each one of them,that all alike presented the same appearance of age and use andtreatment, did he place them carefully in the steel box from which hehad taken his wig and beard. Then he turned the keys in the locks, and,mounting a chair, he thrust open a secret panel in the rafters, pushedinside this hiding-place the box with the forged documents--as ithappened, within two feet of the exact spot where we were stretched,full length, listening to his conversation.
Then he got down and turned again to Paul. "That is all right," he saidgaily. "That is a good thing done, and I shouldn't be surprised if in acritical moment it doesn't save both my life and my fortune. Now youhave got your lesson by heart, haven't you? You know what to do whenany of those men like Hugh Glynn or the Earl of Fotheringay, or any ofthose Jesuit spies, come pottering about here! You play the avariciousfool, do you see? Pretend that you know a lot, and that you could tellthem a lot if it were only made worth your while, and bleed each one ofthem for all the cash you can, in return for the information that I havevanished, and also for permission to turn this shop upside down to findthe manuscripts, which you can hint you are certain are concealedsomewhere about here."
"All right, I'm game," said the youth, and his eyes gleamed with maliceand wickedness.
"When you've made all you can out of the dolts sell those forgeries tothe highest bidder. My own idea is that the Jesuits will pay you betterthan anybody else, but perhaps Lord Cyril Cuthbertson may play you uptoo closely with the aid of some Scotland Yard detectives. In thatcase, let him have the honour of buying the spurious deeds, do you see?It's a pity these foolish Britishers don't roll over in the mud of theirown cleverness sometimes."
The conversation ended, and I turned rapidly to the Spaniard.
"It's no good for you to stay here, as we have arranged," I whispered toCasteno, who now gazed
at me appealingly with eyes large withnervousness and apprehension. "The hunchback won't be seen atWestminster for some time to come. He intends to disappear--as you'veheard, the same as myself--but he must disappear in company with one ofus. Now, who is it to be? You or I?"
"I must go," quickly returned the Spaniard. "Don't you remember youhave to rush off this afternoon to Southampton to meet the royal mailsteamer _Atrato_ and to escort in safety to London a girl named CamilleVelasquon, who is bringing some valuable papers from Mexico for me andfor the Order of St Bruno? I have already telegraphed to her toPlymouth to expect you. It is impossible for you to back out."
"But are you any good at shadowing a man as artful and
The Hunchback of Westminster Page 14
