The Dynamiter

by Robert Louis Stevenson

  _THE SUPERFLUOUS MANSION_(_Continued_)

  Somerset in vain strove to attach a meaning to these words. He had, inthe meanwhile, applied himself assiduously to the flagon; the plotterbegan to melt in twain, and seemed to expand and hover on his seat; andwith a vague sense of nightmare, the young man rose unsteadily to hisfeet, and, refusing the proffer of a third grog, insisted that the hourwas late and he must positively get to bed.

  'Dear me,' observed Zero, 'I find you very temperate. But I will not beoppressive. Suffice it that we are now fast friends; and, my dearlandlord, _au revoir_!'

  So saying the plotter once more shook hands; and with the politestceremonies, and some necessary guidance, conducted the bewildered younggentleman to the top of the stair.

  Precisely, how he got to bed, was a point on which Somerset remained inutter darkness; but the next morning when, at a blow, he started broadawake, there fell upon his mind a perfect hurricane of horror and wonder.That he should have suffered himself to be led into the semblance ofintimacy with such a man as his abominable lodger, appeared, in the coldlight of day, a mystery of human weakness. True, he was caught in asituation that might have tested the aplomb of Talleyrand. That wasperhaps a palliation; but it was no excuse. For so wholesale acapitulation of principle, for such a fall into criminal familiarity, noexcuse indeed was possible; nor any remedy, but to withdraw at once fromthe relation.

  As soon as he was dressed, he hurried upstairs, determined on a rupture.Zero hailed him with the warmth of an old friend.

  'Come in,' he cried, 'dear Mr. Somerset! Come in, sit down, and, withoutceremony, join me at my morning meal.'

  'Sir,' said Somerset, 'you must permit me first to disengage my honour.Last night, I was surprised into a certain appearance of complicity; butonce for all, let me inform you that I regard you and your machinationswith unmingled horror and disgust, and I will leave no stone unturned tocrush your vile conspiracy.'

  'My dear fellow,' replied Zero, with an air of some complacency, 'I amwell accustomed to these human weaknesses. Disgust? I have felt itmyself; it speedily wears off. I think none the worse, I think the moreof you, for this engaging frankness. And in the meanwhile, what are youto do? You find yourself, if I interpret rightly, in very much the samesituation as Charles the Second (possibly the least degraded of yourBritish sovereigns) when he was taken into the confidence of the thief.To denounce me, is out of the question; and what else can you attempt?No, dear Mr. Somerset, your hands are tied; and you find yourselfcondemned, under pain of behaving like a cad, to be that same charmingand intellectual companion who delighted me last night.'

  'At least,' cried Somerset, 'I can, and do, order you to leave thishouse.'

  'Ah!' cried the plotter, 'but there I fail to follow you. You may, ifyou please, enact the part of Judas; but if, as I suppose, you recoilfrom that extremity of meanness, I am, on my side, far too intelligent toleave these lodgings, in which I please myself exceedingly, and fromwhich you lack the power to drive me. No, no, dear sir; here I am, andhere I propose to stay.'

  'I repeat,' cried Somerset, beside himself with a sense of his ownweakness, 'I repeat that I give you warning. I am the master of thishouse; and I emphatically give you warning.'

  'A week's warning?' said the imperturbable conspirator. 'Very well: wewill talk of it a week from now. That is arranged; and in the meanwhile,I observe my breakfast growing cold. Do, dear Mr. Somerset, since youfind yourself condemned, for a week at least, to the society of a veryinteresting character, display some of that open favour, some of thatinterest in life's obscurer sides, which stamp the character of the trueartist. Hang me, if you will, to-morrow; but to-day show yourselfdivested of the scruples of the burgess, and sit down pleasantly to sharemy meal.'

  'Man!' cried Somerset, 'do you understand my sentiments?'

  'Certainly,' replied Zero; 'and I respect them! Would you be outdone insuch a contest? will you alone be partial? and in this nineteenthcentury, cannot two gentlemen of education agree to differ on a point ofpolitics? Come, sir: all your hard words have left me smiling; judgethen, which of us is the philosopher!'

  Somerset was a young man of a very tolerant disposition and by natureeasily amenable to sophistry. He threw up his hands with a gesture ofdespair, and took the seat to which the conspirator invited him. Themeal was excellent; the host not only affable, but primed with curiousinformation. He seemed, indeed, like one who had too long endured thetorture of silence, to exult in the most wholesale disclosures. Theinterest of what he had to tell was great; his character, besides,developed step by step; and Somerset, as the time fled, not only outgrewsome of the discomfort of his false position, but began to regard theconspirator with a familiarity that verged upon contempt. In anycircumstances, he had a singular inability to leave the society in whichhe found himself; company, even if distasteful, held him captive like alimed sparrow; and on this occasion, he suffered hour to follow hour, waseasily persuaded to sit down once more to table, and did not even attemptto withdraw till, on the approach of evening, Zero, with many apologies,dismissed his guest. His fellow-conspirators, the dynamiter handsomelyexplained, as they were unacquainted with the sterling qualities of theyoung man, would be alarmed at the sight of a strange face.

  As soon as he was alone, Somerset fell back upon the humour of themorning. He raged at the thought of his facility; he paced thedining-room, forming the sternest resolutions for the future; he wrungthe hand which had been dishonoured by the touch of an assassin; andamong all these whirling thoughts, there flashed in from time to time,and ever with a chill of fear, the thought of the confounded ingredientswith which the house was stored. A powder magazine seemed a securesmoking-room alongside of the Superfluous Mansion.

  He sought refuge in flight, in locomotion, in the flowing bowl. As longas the bars were open, he travelled from one to another, seeking light,safety, and the companionship of human faces; when these resources failedhim, he fell back on the belated baked-potato man; and at length, stillpacing the streets, he was goaded to fraternise with the police. Alas,with what a sense of guilt he conversed with these guardians of the law;how gladly had he wept upon their ample bosoms; and how the secretfluttered to his lips and was still denied an exit! Fatigue began atlast to triumph over remorse; and about the hour of the first milkman, hereturned to the door of the mansion; looked at it with a horridexpectation, as though it should have burst that instant into flames;drew out his key, and when his foot already rested on the steps, oncemore lost heart and fled for repose to the grisly shelter of acoffee-shop.

  It was on the stroke of noon when he awoke. Dismally searching in hispockets, he found himself reduced to half-a-crown; and when he had paidthe price of his distasteful couch, saw himself obliged to return to theSuperfluous Mansion. He sneaked into the hall and stole on tiptoe to thecupboard where he kept his money. Yet half a minute, he told himself,and he would be free for days from his obseding lodger, and might decideat leisure on the course he should pursue. But fate had otherwisedesigned: there came a tap at the door and Zero entered.

  'Have I caught you?' he cried, with innocent gaiety. 'Dear fellow, I wasgrowing quite impatient.' And on the speaker's somewhat stolid face,there came a glow of genuine affection. 'I am so long unused to have afriend,' he continued, 'that I begin to be afraid I may prove jealous.'And he wrung the hand of his landlord.

  Somerset was, of all men, least fit to deal with such a greeting. Toreject these kind advances was beyond his strength. That he could notreturn cordiality for cordiality, was already almost more than he couldcarry. That inequality between kind sentiments which, to generouscharacters, will always seem to be a sort of guilt, oppressed him to theground; and he stammered vague and lying words.

  'That is all right,' cried Zero--'that is as it should be--say no more!I had a vague alarm; I feared you had deserted me; but I now own thatfear to have been unworthy, and apologise. To doubt of your forgivenesswere to repeat my sin. Come, then; dinner w
aits; join me again and tellme your adventures of the night.'

  Kindness still sealed the lips of Somerset; and he suffered himself oncemore to be set down to table with his innocent and criminal acquaintance.Once more, the plotter plunged up to the neck in damaging disclosures:now it would be the name and biography of an individual, now the addressof some important centre, that rose, as if by accident, upon his lips;and each word was like another turn of the thumbscrew to his unhappyguest. Finally, the course of Zero's bland monologue led him to theyoung lady of two days ago: that young lady, who had flashed on Somersetfor so brief a while but with so conquering a charm; and whose engaginggrace, communicative eyes, and admirable conduct of the sweeping skirt,remained imprinted on his memory.

  'You saw her?' said Zero. 'Beautiful, is she not? She, too, is one ofours: a true enthusiast: nervous, perhaps, in presence of the chemicals;but in matters of intrigue, the very soul of skill and daring. Lake,Fonblanque, de Marly, Valdevia, such are some of the names that sheemploys; her true name--but there, perhaps, I go too far. Suffice it,that it is to her I owe my present lodging, and, dear Somerset, thepleasure of your acquaintance. It appears she knew the house. You seedear fellow, I make no concealment: all that you can care to hear, I tellyou openly.'

  'For God's sake,' cried the wretched Somerset, 'hold your tongue! Youcannot imagine how you torture me!'

  A shade of serious discomposure crossed the open countenance of Zero.

  'There are times,' he said, 'when I begin to fancy that you do not likeme. Why, why, dear Somerset, this lack of cordiality? I am depressed;the touchstone of my life draws near; and if I fail'--he gloomilynodded--'from all the height of my ambitious schemes, I fall, dear boy,into contempt. These are grave thoughts, and you may judge my need ofyour delightful company. Innocent prattler, you relieve the weight of myconcerns. And yet . . . and yet . . .' The speaker pushed away hisplate, and rose from table. 'Follow me,' said he, 'follow me. My moodis on; I must have air, I must behold the plain of battle.'

  So saying, he led the way hurriedly to the top flat of the mansion, andthence, by ladder and trap, to a certain leaded platform, sheltered atone end by a great stalk of chimneys and occupying the actual summit ofthe roof. On both sides, it bordered, without parapet or rail, on theincline of slates; and, northward above all, commanded an extensive viewof housetops, and rising through the smoke, the distant spires ofchurches.

  'Here,' cried Zero, 'you behold this field of city, rich, crowded,laughing with the spoil of continents; but soon, how soon, to be laidlow! Some day, some night, from this coign of vantage, you shall perhapsbe startled by the detonation of the judgment gun--not sharp and emptylike the crack of cannon, but deep-mouthed and unctuously solemn.Instantly thereafter, you shall behold the flames break forth. Ay,' hecried, stretching forth his hand, 'ay, that will be a day of retribution.Then shall the pallid constable flee side by side with the detectedthief. Blaze!' he cried, 'blaze, derided city! Fall, flatulentmonarchy, fall like Dagon!'

  With these words his foot slipped upon the lead; and but for Somerset'squickness, he had been instantly precipitated into space. Pale as asheet, and limp as a pocket-handkerchief, he was dragged from the edge ofdownfall by one arm; helped, or rather carried, down the ladder; anddeposited in safety on the attic landing. Here he began to come tohimself, wiped his brow, and at length, seizing Somerset's hand in bothof his, began to utter his acknowledgments.

  'This seals it,' said he. 'Ours is a life and death connection. Youhave plucked me from the jaws of death; and if I were before attracted byyour character, judge now of the ardour of my gratitude and love! But Iperceive I am still greatly shaken. Lend me, I beseech you, lend me yourarm as far as my apartment.'

  A dram of spirits restored the plotter to something of his customaryself-possession; and he was standing, glass in hand and geniallyconvalescent, when his eye was attracted by the dejection of theunfortunate young man.

  'Good heavens, dear Somerset,' he cried, 'what ails you? Let me offeryou a touch of spirits.'

  But Somerset had fallen below the reach of this material comfort.

  'Let me be,' he said. 'I am lost; you have caught me in the toils. Upto this moment, I have lived all my life in the most reckless manner, anddone exactly what I pleased, with the most perfect innocence. Andnow--what am I? Are you so blind and wooden that you do not see theloathing you inspire me with? Is it possible you can suppose me willingto continue to exist upon such terms? To think,' he cried, 'that a youngman, guilty of no fault on earth but amiability, should find himselfinvolved in such a damned imbroglio!' And placing his knuckles in hiseyes, Somerset rolled upon the sofa.

  'My God,' said Zero, 'is this possible? And I so filled with tendernessand interest! Can it be, dear Somerset, that you are under the empire ofthese out-worn scruples? or that you judge a patriot by the morality ofthe religious tract? I thought you were a good agnostic.'

  'Mr. Jones,' said Somerset, 'it is in vain to argue. I boast myself atotal disbeliever, not only in revealed religion, but in the data,method, and conclusions of the whole of ethics. Well! what matters it?what signifies a form of words? I regard you as a reptile, whom I wouldrejoice, whom I long, to stamp under my heel. You would blow up others?Well then, understand: I want, with every circumstance of infamy andagony, to blow up you!'

  'Somerset, Somerset!' said Zero, turning very pale, 'this is wrong; thisis very wrong. You pain, you wound me, Somerset.'

  'Give me a match!' cried Somerset wildly. 'Let me set fire to thisincomparable monster! Let me perish with him in his fall!'

  'For God's sake,' cried Zero, clutching hold of the young man, 'for God'ssake command yourself! We stand upon the brink; death yawns around us; aman--a stranger in this foreign land--one whom you have called yourfriend--'

  'Silence!' cried Somerset, 'you are no friend, no friend of mine. I lookon you with loathing, like a toad: my flesh creeps with physicalrepulsion; my soul revolts against the sight of you.'

  Zero burst into tears. 'Alas!' he sobbed, 'this snaps the last link thatbound me to humanity. My friend disowns--he insults me. I am indeedaccurst.'

  Somerset stood for an instant staggered by this sudden change of front.The next moment, with a despairing gesture, he fled from the room andfrom the house. The first dash of his escape carried him hard uponhalf-way to the next police-office: but presently began to droop; andbefore he reached the house of lawful intervention, he fell once moreamong doubtful counsels. Was he an agnostic? had he a right to act?Away with such nonsense, and let Zero perish! ran his thoughts. And thenagain: had he not promised, had he not shaken hands and broken bread? andthat with open eyes? and if so how could he take action, and not forfeithonour? But honour? what was honour? A figment, which, in the hotpursuit of crime, he ought to dash aside. Ay, but crime? A figment,too, which his enfranchised intellect discarded. All day, he wandered inthe parks, a prey to whirling thoughts; all night, patrolled the city;and at the peep of day he sat down by the wayside in the neighbourhood ofPeckham and bitterly wept. His gods had fallen. He who had chosen thebroad, daylit, unencumbered paths of universal scepticism, found himselfstill the bondslave of honour. He who had accepted life from a point ofview as lofty as the predatory eagle's, though with no design to prey; hewho had clearly recognised the common moral basis of war, of commercialcompetition, and of crime; he who was prepared to help the escapingmurderer or to embrace the impenitent thief, found, to the overthrow ofall his logic, that he objected to the use of dynamite. The dawn creptamong the sleeping villas and over the smokeless fields of city; andstill the unfortunate sceptic sobbed over his fall from consistency.

  At length, he rose and took the rising sun to witness. 'There is noquestion as to fact,' he cried; 'right and wrong are but figments and theshadow of a word; but for all that, there are certain things that Icannot do, and there are certain others that I will not stand.'Thereupon he decided to return to make one last effort of persuasion,and, if he could
not prevail on Zero to desist from his infernal trade,throw delicacy to the winds, give the plotter an hour's start, anddenounce him to the police. Fast as he went, being winged by thisresolution, it was already well on in the morning when he came in sightof the Superfluous Mansion. Tripping down the steps, was the young ladyof the various aliases; and he was surprised to see upon her countenancethe marks of anger and concern.

  'Madam,' he began, yielding to impulse and with no clear knowledge ofwhat he was to add.

  But at the sound of his voice she seemed to experience a shock of fear orhorror; started back; lowered her veil with a sudden movement; and fled,without turning, from the square.

  Here then, we step aside a moment from following the fortunes ofSomerset, and proceed to relate the strange and romantic episode of THEBROWN BOX.