The Tenants of Malory, Volume 3

by Joseph Sheridan Le Fanu

  CHAPTER XIX.

  THE GREEK MERCHANT SEES LORD VERNEY.

  OUR friend, Wynne Williams, made a much longer stay than he hadexpected in London. From him, too, Tom Sedley received about this timea mysterious summons to town, so urgent and so solemn that he feltthere was something extraordinary in it; and on consultation with theEtherage girls, those competent advisers settled that he should atonce obey it.

  Tom wrote to Agnes on the evening of his arrival--

  "I have been for an hour with Wynne Williams; you have no notion whata good fellow he is, and what a wonderfully clever fellow. There issomething _very_ good in prospect for me, but not yet certain, and Iam bound not to tell a human being. But _you_, I will, of course, themoment I know it for certain. It may turn out nothing at all; but weare working very hard all the same."

  In the meantime, down at Malory, things were taking a course of whichthe good people of Cardyllian had not a suspicion.

  With a little flush over his grim, brown face, with a little jauntyswagger, and a slight screwing of his lips, altogether as if he hadsipped a little too much brandy-and-water--though he had nothing ofthe kind that day--giggling and chuckling over short sentences; with avery determined knitting of his eyebrows, and something in his eyesunusually sinister, which a sense of danger gives to a wicked face,Mr. Dingwell walked down the clumsy stairs of the steward's house, andstood within the hatch.

  There he meditated for a few moments, with compressed lips, and awandering sweep of his eyes along the stone urns and rose bushes thatstood in front of the dwarf wall, which is backed by the solemn oldtrees of Malory.

  "In for a penny, in for a pound."

  And he muttered a Turkish sentence, I suppose equivalent; and thusfortified by the wisdom of nations, he stepped out upon the broadgravel walk, looked about him for a second or two, as if recallingrecollections, in a sardonic mood, and then walked round the corner tothe front of the house, and up the steps, and pulled at the door bell;the knocker had been removed in tenderness to Lord Verney's irritablenerves.

  Two of his tall footmen in powder and livery were there, conveyed intothis exile from Ware; for calls of inquiry were made here, and aglimpse of state was needed to overawe the bumpkins.

  "His lordship was better; was sitting in the drawing-room; mightpossibly see the gentleman; and who should he say, please?"

  "Say, Mr. Dingwell, the great Greek merchant, who has a most importantcommunication to make."

  His lordship would see Mr. Dingwell. Mr. Dingwell's name was called toa second footman, who opened a door, and announced him.

  Lady Wimbledon, who had been sitting at the window reading aloud toLord Verney at a little chink of light, abandoned her pamphlet, andrustled out by another door, as the Greek merchant entered.

  Dim at best, and very unequal was the light. The gout had touched hislordship's right eyeball, which was still a little inflamed, and thedoctor insisted on darkness.

  There was something diabolically waggish in Mr. Dingwell's face, ifthe noble lord could only have seen it distinctly, as he entered theroom. He was full of fun; he was enjoying a coming joke, with perhapsa little spice of danger in it, and could hardly repress a giggle.

  The Viscount requested Mr. Dingwell to take a chair, and thatgentleman waited till the servant had closed the door, and thenthanked Lord Verney in a strange nasal tone, quite unlike Mr.Dingwell's usual voice.

  "I come here, Lord Verney, with an important communication to make. Icould have made it to some of the people about you--and you have ableprofessional people--or to your nephew; but it is a pleasure, LordVerney, to speak instead to the cleverest man in England."

  The noble lord bowed a little affably, although he might havequestioned Mr. Dingwell's right to pay him compliments in his ownhouse; but Mr. Dingwell's fiddlestick had touched the right string,and the noble instrument made music accordingly. Mr. Dingwell, in thedark, looked very much amused.

  "I can hardly style myself _that_, Mr. Dingwell."

  "I speak of _business_, Lord Verney; and I adopt the language of theworld in saying the cleverest man in England."

  "I'm happy to say my physician allows me to listen to reading, and totalk a little, and there can be no objection to a little businesseither," said Lord Verney, passing by the compliment this time, but,on the whole, good-humouredly disposed toward Mr. Dingwell.

  "I've two or three things to mention, Lord Verney; and the first ismoney."

  Lord Verney coughed drily. He was suddenly recalled to a consciousnessof Mr. Dingwell's character.

  "Money, my lord. The name makes you cough, as smoke does a man with anasthma. I've found it all my life as hard to keep, as you do to partwith. If I had but possessed Lord Verney's instincts and abilities, Ishould have been at this moment one of the wealthiest men in England."

  Mr. Dingwell rose as he said this, and bowed towards Lord Verney.

  "I said I should name it first; but as your lordship coughs, we had,perhaps, best discuss it last. Or, indeed, if it makes your lordshipcough very much, perhaps we had better postpone it, or leave itentirely to your lordship's discretion--as I wouldn't for the worldsend this little attack into your chest."

  Lord Verney thought Mr. Dingwell less unreasonable, but also moreflighty, than he had supposed.

  "You are quite at liberty, sir, to treat your subjects in what orderyou please. I wish you to understand that I have no objection to hearyou; and--and you may proceed."

  "The next is a question on which I presume we shall find ourselves inperfect accord. I had the honour, as you are very well aware, of anintimate acquaintance with your late brother, the Honourable ArthurVerney, and beyond measure I admired his talents, which were second inbrilliancy only to your own. I admired even his _principles_--but Isee they make you cough also. They were, it is true, mephitic,sulphurous, such as might well take your breath, or that of any othermoral man, quite away; but they had what I call the Verney stamp uponthem; they were perfectly consistent, and quite harmonious. His, mylord, was the intense and unflinching rascality, if you permit me thephrase, of a man of genius, and I honoured it. Now, my lord, hisadventures were curious, as you are aware, and I have them at myfingers' ends--his crimes, his escape, and, above all, his life inConstantinople--ha, ha, ha! It would make your hair stand on end. Andto think he should have been _your brother_! Upon my _soul_! Though,as I said, the genius--the _genius_, Lord Verney--the inspiration wasthere. In _that_ he _was_ your brother."

  "I'm aware, sir, that he had talent, Mr. Dingwell, and couldspeak--about it. At Oxford he was considered the most promising youngman of his time--almost."

  "Yes, except _you_; but you were two years later."

  "Yes, exactly. I was precisely two years later about it."

  "Yes, my lord, you were always about it; so he told me. No matter whatit was--a book, or a boot-jack, or a bottle of port, you were alwaysabout it. It was a way you had, he said--about it."

  "I wasn't aware that anyone remarked any such thing--about it," saidLord Verney, very loftily.

  It dawned dimly upon him that Mr. Dingwell, who was a very irregularperson, was possibly intoxicated. But Mr. Dingwell was speaking,though in a very nasal, odd voice, yet with a clear and sharparticulation, and in a cool way, not the least like a man in that sortof incapacity. Lord Verney concluded, therefore, that Mr. Dingwell waseither a remarkably impertinent person, or most insupportablydeficient in the commonest tact. I think he would have risen, even atthe inconvenience of suddenly disturbing his flannelled foot, andintimated that he did not feel quite well enough to continue theconversation, had he not known something of Mr. Dingwell's dangeroustemper, and equally dangerous knowledge and opportunities; for hadthey not subsidized Mr. Dingwell, in the most unguarded manner, andon the most monstrous scale, pending the investigation and proofbefore the Lords? "It was inevitable," Mr. Larkin said, "but also alittle awkward; although _they_ knew that the man had sworn nothingbut truth." _Very_ awkward, _Lord Verney_ thought, and therefore heendured Mr. Din
gwell.

  But the "great Greek merchant," as, I suppose half jocularly, hetermed himself, not only seemed odious at this moment, by reason ofhis impertinence, but also formidable to Lord Verney, who, havingwaked from his dream that Dingwell would fly beyond the Golden Hornwhen once his evidence was given, and the coronet well fixed on thebrows of the Hon. Kiffyn Fulke Verney, found himself still haunted bythis vampire bat, which hung by its hooked wing, sometimes in theshadows of Rosemary Court--sometimes in those of the old Steward'sHouse--sometimes hovering noiselessly nearer--always with its eyesupon him, threatening to fasten on his breast, and drain him.

  The question of money he would leave "to his discretion." But what didhis impertinence mean? Was it not minatory? And to what exorbitantsums in a choice of evils might not "discretion" point?

  "This d--d Mr. Dingwell," thought Lord Verney "will play the devilwith my gout. I wish he was at the bottom of the Bosphorus."

  "Yes. And your brother, Arthur--there were points in which he differedfrom you. Unless I'm misinformed, he was a first-rate cricketer, thecrack bat of their team, and you were _nothing_; he was one of thebest Grecians in the university, and you were plucked."

  "I--I don't exactly see the drift of your rather inaccurate andextremely offensive observations, Mr. Dingwell," said Lord Verney,wincing and flushing in the dark.

  "Offensive? Good heaven! But I'm talking to a Verney, to a man ofgenius; and I say, how the devil could I tell that _truth_ couldoffend, either? With this reflection I forgive _myself_, and I go onto say what will interest you."

  Lord Verney, who had recovered his presence of mind, here nodded, tointimate that he was ready to hear him.

  "Well, there were a few other points, but I need not mention them, inwhich you differed. You were both alike in this--each was agenius--you were an opaque and obscure genius, he a brilliant one; buteach being a genius, there must have been a sympathy, notwithstandinghis being a publican and you a--not exactly a Pharisee, but a paragonof prudence."

  "I really, Mr. Dingwell, must request--you see I'm far from well,about it--that you'll be so good as a little to abridge your remarks;and I don't want to hear--you can easily, I hope, understand--my poorbrother talked of in any but such terms as a brother should listento."

  "That arises, Lord Verney, from your not having had the advantage ofhis society for so very many years. Now, I knew him intimately, and Ican undertake to say he did not care twopence what any one on earththought of him, and it rather amused him painting infernal caricaturesof himself, as a fiend or a monkey, and he often made me laugh by thehour--ha, ha, ha! he amused himself with revealed religion, and witheverything sacred, sometimes even with _you_--ha, ha, ha--he _had_certainly a wonderful sense of the ridiculous."

  "May I repeat my request, if it does not appear to you _very_unreasonable?" again interrupted Lord Verney, "and may I entreat toknow what it is you wish me to understand about it, in as few words asyou can, sir?"

  "Certainly, Lord Verney; it is just this. As I have got materials,perfectly authentic, from my deceased friend, both abouthimself--horribly racy, you may suppose--ha, ha, ha--about yourgrand-uncle Pendel--you've heard of him, of course--about your auntDeborah, poor thing, who sold mutton pies in Chester,--I wasthinking--suppose I write a memoir--Arthur alone deserves it; you paythe expenses; I take the profits, and I throw you in the copyright fora few thousand more, and call it, 'Snuffed-out lights of the Peerage,'or something of the kind? I think something is due to Arthur--don'tyou?"

  "I think you can hardly be serious, Mr.--Mr.----"

  "Perfectly serious, upon my soul, my lord. Could anything be morecurious? Eccentricity's the soul of genius, and you're proud of yourgenius, I _hope_."

  "What strikes me, Mr. Dingwell, amounts, in short, to something likethis. My poor brother, he has been unfortunate, about it, and--and_worse_, and he has done things, and I ask myself _why_ there shouldbe an effort to obtrude him, and I answer myself, there's no reason,about it, and therefore I vote to have everything as it is, and Ishall neither contribute my countenance, about it, nor money to anysuch undertaking, or--or--undertaking."

  "Then my book comes to the ground, egad."

  Lord Verney simply raised his head with a little sniff, as if he weresmelling at a snuff-box.

  "Well, Arthur must have something, you know."

  "My brother, the Honourable Arthur Kiffyn Verney, is past receivinganything at my hands, and I don't think he probably looked foranything, about it, at any time from _yours_."

  "Well, but it's just the time for what I'm thinking of. You wouldn'tgive him a tombstone in his lifetime, I suppose, though you _are_ agenius. Now, I happen to know he wished a tombstone. _You_'d like atombstone, though not now--time enough in a year or two, when you'refermenting in your lead case."

  "I'm not thinking of tombstones at present, sir, and it appears to methat you are giving yourself a very unusual latitude--about it."

  "I don't mean in the mausoleum at Ware. Of course that's a place wherepeople who have led a decorous life putrify together. I meant at thesmall church of Penruthyn, where the scamps await judgment."

  "I--a--don't see that such a step is properly for the consideration ofany persons--about it--outside the members of the Verney family, ormore properly, of any but the representatives of that family," saidLord Verney, loftily, "and you'll excuse my not admitting, or--or, infact, admitting any right in anyone else."

  "He wished it immensely."

  "I can't understand why, sir."

  "Nor I; but I suppose you all get them--all ticketed--eh? and I'dwrite the epitaph, only putting in essentials, though, egad! in such alife it would be as long as a newspaper."

  "I've already expressed my opinion, and--and things, and I havenothing to add."

  "Then the tombstone comes to the ground also?"

  "Anything _more_, sir?"

  "But, my lord, he showed an immense consideration for you."

  "I don't exactly recollect _how_."

  "By _dying_--you've got hold of everything, don't you see, and yougrudge him a tablet in the little church of Penruthyn, by gad! I toldyour nephew he wished it, and I tell you he wished it; it's notstinginess, it's your mean pride."

  "You seem, Mr. Dingwell, to fancy that there's no limit to theimpertinence I'll submit to."

  "I'm sure there's none almost--you better not ring the bell--youbetter think twice--he gave me that message, and he also left me amallet--quite a toy--but a single knock of it would bring VerneyHouse, or Ware, or this place, about your ears."

  The man was speaking in quite another voice now, and in the mostawful tones Lord Verney had ever heard in his life, and to his alarmedand sickly eyes it seemed as if the dusky figure of his visitor weredilating in the dark like an evoked Genii.

  "I--I think about it--it's quite unaccountable--all this." Lord Verneywas looking at the stranger as he spoke, and groping with his lefthand for the old-fashioned bell-rope which used to hang near him inthe library in Verney House, forgetting that there was no bell of anysort within his reach at that moment.

  "I'm not going to take poor dear Arthur's mallet out of my pocket, forthe least tap of it would make all England ring and _roar_, sir. No,I'll make no noise; you and I, sir, _tete-a-tete_. I'll have nogo-between; no Larkin, no Levi, no Cleve; you and I'll settle it alone.Your brother was a great Grecian, they used to call him [Greek:Odusseus]--Ulysses. Do you remember? I said I was the great Greekmerchant? We have made an exchange together. You must pay. What shall Icall myself, for Dingwell isn't my name. I'll take a new one--To [Greek:men proton Outin heauton epikalei--epeidande diepheugekai exo en belous Odussyn onomazesthai ephe] In English--atfirst he called himself Outis--_Nobody_; but so soon as he had escaped,and was out of the javelin's reach, he said that he was namedOdusseus--_Ulysses_, and here he is. This is the return of Ulysses!"

  There had been a sudden change in Mr. Dingwell's Yankee intonation.The nasal tones were heard no more. He approached the window, andsaid, with a laugh, pulling the sh
utter more open--

  "Why, Kiffyn, you fool, don't you know me?"

  There was a silence.

  "My great God! my great God of heaven!" came from the white lips ofLord Verney.

  "Yes; God's over all," said Arthur Verney, with a strange confusion,between a sneer and something more genuine.

  There was a long pause.

  "Ha, ha, ha! don't make a scene! Not such a muff?" said Dingwell.

  Lord Verney was staring at him with a face white and peaked as that ofa corpse, and whispering still--"My God! my great God!" so thatDingwell, as I still call him, began to grow uneasy.

  "Come; don't you make mountains of molehills. What the devil's allthis fuss about? Here, drink a little of this." He poured out somewater, and Lord Verney did sip a little, and then gulped down a gooddeal, and then he looked at Arthur again fixedly, and groaned.

  "That's right--never mind. I'll not hurt you. Don't fancy I mean todisturb you. I _can't_, you know, if I wished it _ever_ so much. Idaren't _show_--I _know_ it. Don't suppose I want to _bully_ you; theidea's _impracticable_. I looked in merely to tell you, in a friendlyway, who I am. You must do something handsome for me, you know.Devil's in it if a fellow can't get a share of his own money, and, asI said before, we'll have no go-betweens, no Jews or attorneys. D--nthem all--but settle it between ourselves, like brothers. Sip a littlemore water."

  "Arthur, Arthur, I say, _yes_; good God, I feel I shall have a gooddeal to say; but--my head, and things--I'm a little perplexed still,and I must have a glass of wine, about it, and I can't do it now; no,I can't."

  "I don't live far away, you know; and I'll look in to-morrow--we'renot in a hurry."

  "It was a strange idea, Arthur. Good Lord, have mercy on me!"

  "Not a bad one; eh?"

  "Very odd, Arthur!--God forgive you."

  "Yes, my dear Kiffyn, and you, too."

  "The coronet--about it? I'm placed in a dreadful position, but youshan't be compromised, Arthur. Tell them I'm not very well, and some_wine_, I think--a little chill."

  "And to-morrow I can look in again, quietly," said the Greekmerchant, "or whenever you like, and I shan't disclose our littleconfidence."

  "It's going--everything, everything; I shall see it by-and-by," saidLord Verney, helplessly.

  And thus the interview ended, and Mr. Dingwell in the hall gave theproper alarm about Lord Verney.