CHAPTER XII.
CLEVE VERNEY HAS A VISITOR.
SO Cleve Verney returned direct to England, and his friends thought histrip to Paris, short as it was, had done him a world of good. What analterative and tonic a little change of air sometimes is!
The Honourable Kiffyn Fulke Verney was, in his high, thin-minded way, atlast tolerably content, and more pompous and respected than ever. Theproof of his succession to the peerage of Verney was in a perfectlysatisfactory state. He would prove it, and take his seat next session.He would add another to the long list of Lord Viscounts Verney of Maloryto be found in the gold and scarlet chronicle of such dignities. He hadarranged with the trustees for a provisional possession of Verney House,the great stone mansion which glorifies one side of the smallparallelogram called Verney Square. Already contractors had visited itand explored its noble chambers and long corridors, with foot-rule andnote-book, getting together material for tenders, and Cleve had alreadya room there when he came up to town. Some furniture had been got in,and some servants were established there also, and so the stream of lifehad begun to transfuse itself from the old town residence of the Hon.Kiffyn Fulke Verney into these long-forsaken channels.
Here, one morning, called a gentleman named Dingwell, whom Cleve Verney,happening to be in town, desired the servant to show into the room wherehe sat, with his breakfast, and his newspapers about him.
The tall old man entered, with a slight stoop, leering, Cleve thought, alittle sarcastically over his shoulder as he did so.
Mr. Dingwell underwent Mr. Cleve Verney's reception, smiling oddly,under his white eyebrows, after his wont.
"I suspect some little mistake, isn't there?" said he, in his cold,harsh, quiet tones. "You can hardly be the brother of my old friend,Arthur Verney. I had hoped to see Mr. Kiffyn Fulke Verney--I--eh?"
"I'm his nephew."
"Oh! _nephew_? Yes--another generation--yes, of course. I called to seethe Honourable Kiffyn Fulke Verney. I was not able to attend theconsultation, or whatever you call it. You know I'm your principalwitness, eh? Dingwell's my name."
"Oh, to be sure--I beg pardon, Mr. Dingwell," said Cleve, who, by one ofthose odd slips of memory, which sometimes occur, had failed to connectthe name with the case, on its turning up thus unexpectedly.
"I hope your admirable uncle, Kiffyn Verney, is, at all events, _alive_and _approachable_," said the old man, glancing grimly about the room;"though perhaps _you_'re his next heir, and the hope is hardly polite."
This impertinence of Mr. Dingwell's, Mr. Cleve Verney, who knew hisimportance, and had heard something of his odd temper, resented only byasking him to be seated.
"_That_," said the old man, with a vicious laugh and a smirk, alsoangry, "is a liberty which I was about to take uninvited, by right of myyears and fatigue, eh?"
And he sat down with the air of a man who is rather nettled than pleasedby an attention.
"And what about Mr. Kiffyn Verney?" he asked, sharply.
"My uncle is in the country," answered Cleve, who would have liked toanswer the fool according to his folly, but he succumbed to thenecessity, inculcated with much shrewdness, garnished with somereferences to Scripture, by Mr. Jos. Larkin, of indulging theeccentricities of Mr. Dingwell's temper a little.
"Then he _is_ alive? I've heard such an account of the Verneys, theirlives are so brittle, and snap so suddenly; my poor friend Arthur toldme, and that Jew fellow, Levi, here, who seems so intimate with thefamily--d--n him!--says the same: no London house likes to insure them.Well, I see you don't like it: no one does; the smell of the coffin,sir; time enough when we are carrion, and fill it. Ha, ha, ha!"
"Yes, sir, _quite_," said Cleve, drily.
"No young man likes the sight of that stinking old lantern-jawed fellow,who shall be nameless, looking over his spade so slily; but the best wayis to do as I've done. Since you must meet him _one_ day, go up to him,and make his acquaintance, and shake hands; and egad! when you've growna little bit intimate, he's not half so disgusting, and sometimes he'seven a little bit funny."
"If I were thinking of the profession of a sexton, or an undertaker, Imight," began Cleve, who felt a profound disgust of this old Mr.Dingwell, "but as I don't, and since by the time it comes to my turn, Ishall be pretty well past seeing and smelling----"
"Don't be too sure of that," said Mr. Dingwell, with one of his uglysmirks. "Some cheerful people think _not_, you know. But it isn't aboutsuch matters that I want to trouble you; in fact, I came to say a wordto your uncle; but as I can't see him, you can tell him, and urge itmore eloquently too, than I can. You and he are both orators byprofession; and tell him he must give me five hundred poundsimmediately."
"Five hundred pounds! _Why?_" said Cleve, with a scornful surprise.
"Because I want it," answered the old gentleman, squaring himself, andwith the corner of his mouth drawn oddly in, his white head a little onone side, and his eyebrows raised, with altogether an air of viciousdefiance.
"You have had your allowance raised very much, sir--it is an exorbitantallowance--what reason can you now urge for this request?" answeredCleve.
"The _same_ reason, sir, precisely. If I don't get it I shall go away,_re infecta_, and leave you to find out proof of the death how you may."
Cleve was very near giving this unconscionable old extortioner a bit ofhis mind, and ordering him out of the house on the instant. But Mr.Larkin had been so very urgent on the point, that he commanded himself.
"I hardly think, sir, you can be serious," said Cleve.
"Egad, sir! you'll find it a serious matter if you don't; for, upon mysoul, unless I'm paid, and _well_ paid for it, I'll depose to nothing."
"That's plain speaking, at all events," said Mr. Cleve Verney.
"Oh! sir, I'll speak more plainly still," said Mr. Dingwell, with ashort sarcastic bow. "I never mince matters; life is too short forcircumlocutions."
"_Verney_ life, at all events, by your account, sir, and I don't desirethem. I shall mention the matter to my uncle to-day in my letter, but Ireally can't undertake to do more; for I may tell you frankly, Mr.Dingwell, I can't, for the life of me, understand what you can possiblywant of such a sum."
"I suppose, young gentleman, you have your pleasures, and I have mine,and they're not to be had without money; and egad, sir! if you fancyit's for love of your old uncle or of you, that I'm here, and taking allthis trouble, you are very much mistaken; and if I help you to thishouse, and the title, and estates, I'll take leave to help myself tosome little amusement--money, I mean, also. Cool fellows, egad!"
The brown features of the old man flushed angrily as he laughed.
"Well, Mr. Dingwell, I can only repeat what I have said, and I will alsospeak to Mr. Larkin. I have no power in the business myself, and you hadbetter talk to him," said Cleve.
"I prefer the fountain-head, sir. I don't care twopence how you arrangeit among yourselves; but you must give me the money by Saturday."
"Rather an early day, Mr. Dingwell; however, as I said, the question isfor my uncle; it can't affect me," said Cleve.
Mr. Dingwell mused angrily for a little, and Cleve thought his face oneof the wickedest he had ever seen while in this state of excitedrumination.
"You all--_both_ owe me more in that man's death--there are very oddcircumstances about it, I can tell you--than, perhaps, you at presentimagine," said Mr. Dingwell, looking up suddenly, with a dismal sneer,which subsided into an equally dismal stare.
Cleve, for a second or two, returned the stare, while the questioncrossed his mind: "Can the old villain mean that my miserable uncle methis death by foul means, in which he took a part, and intends to throwthat consideration in with his averred services, to enhance his claim?"
"You had better tell your uncle, with my compliments," said Mr.Dingwell, "that he'll make a kettle of fish of the whole affair, in away he doesn't expect, unless he makes matters square with me. I oftenthink I'm a d----d fool, sir, to let you off as I do."
"I don't s
ee, Mr. Dingwell, that you are letting us off, as you say, sovery easily," answered Cleve, with a cold smile.
"No, you _don't_ see, but I'll _make_ you see it," said Mr. Dingwell,very tartly, and with an unpleasant laugh. "Arthur Verney was alwayschanging his quarters--was never in the light. He went by differentnicknames. There were in all Constantinople but two men, except myself,the Consul, and the stockbroker, who cashed the money-orders for him,who could identify him, or who knew his name. He lived in the dark, andnot very cleanly--you'll excuse the simile--like one of your sewer-rats.He died suddenly and oddly, sir, like a candle on which has fallen adrop of water, with a splutter and a flash, in a moment--one of yourVerney deaths, sir. You might as well hope to prove the death of aparticular town-dog there, without kennel, or master, or name, a yearafter his brothers had eaten him." Cleve knew that old Dingwell in thisspoke the truth and lied not. Lord Verney had written to great peoplethere, who had set small ones in motion, with a result very like whatDingwell described. Arthur Verney was a gipsy--seldom sleeping for twoweeks in the same house--with so many different names that it was vainattempting to trace him, and merely emerging when he wanted money. "So,sir," said Mr. Dingwell, with a smirk, "I see my value."
"I don't recollect that my uncle ever disputed it," replied Mr. CleveVerney.
"I understand your difficulty perfectly. The presumption of English law,ha! ha! ha! is in favour of the duration of human life, whenever youcan't prove a death. So, English law, which we can't dispute--for it isthe perfection of human wisdom--places the putrid body of my late friendArthur in the robes, coronet, and staff of the Verneys, and would givehim the spending of the rents, too, but that you can't make a horsedrink, though you may bring him to the water. At all events, sir, myfestering friend in the shroud will hold secure possession of theestates against all comers till he exhausts that patient presumption,and sees Kiffyn, and you, sir, and every Verney now alive, laid withtheir faces upward. So, sir, you see I know my value. I have the grandarcanum; I hold in my hand the Philosopher's Stone that can turn yourpewter and brass into gold. I hold it fast, sir, and, egad! I'll runaway with it, unless I see a reason." And the old gentleman laughed, andshrugged and expanded his slender hands with a deprecation that wasmenacing.
Cleve was very angry, but he was also alarmed; for Mr. Dingwell lookedquite capable of any treason against the Verney interest to which hisavarice or his spites might prompt him. A wild, cold, wandering eye; aplay of the nostrils, and a corrugation of the brows that gave to hissmile, or his laugh, a menace that was villanous, and almostinsane--warned the young man of the quality of the beast, and invitedhim to the exercise of all his self-control.
"I am quite certain, Mr. Dingwell, that my uncle will do whatever isreasonable and fair, and I am also sure that he feels his obligations toyou. I shall take care that he hears all that you have said, and youunderstand that I literally have neither power nor influence in hisdecision."
"Well, he feels his obligations," said Mr. Dingwell. "That is pleasant."
"Certainly; and, as I said, whatever is fair and reasonable I am certainhe will do," said Cleve Verney.
"Fair and reasonable--that is exactly the thing--the _value_; and youknow--
'The worth precise of anything Is so much money as 'twill bring.'
And I'll make it bring what I say; and I make it a rule to treat moneymatters in the grossest terms, because that is the only language whichis at once intelligible and direct--and grossness I believe to be thesoul of business; and so, sir, tell him with my compliments, I shallexpect five hundred pounds at ten o'clock in the morning, in Bank ofEngland notes."
At this moment the servant announced the Rev. Isaac Dixie, and Mr.Dingwell stood up, and, looking with a kind of amusement and scorn roundthe room upon the dusty portraits, made a sharp bow to Cleve Verney, andsaying,--
"That's all; good morning, sir"--with another nod, turned about, andwalked jauntily out of the room.
The Tenants of Malory, Volume 2 Page 12
