The Last Duchess, edited by Julian Hawthorne. Chapter one, has the Duchess
returned? No, your grace. Knowles came farther into the room. He
had a letter on a salver. When the Duke had taken it, Knowles
still lingered. The Duke glanced at him. Is an answer required? No,
your grace still knows lingered. Something a little singular has happened. The
carriage has returned without the Duchess, and the men say that they thought her
grace was in it. What do you mean? I hardly understand myself,
your Grace. Perhaps you would like to see Barnes. Barnes was the coachman.
Send him up. When Knowles had gone and he was alone, his
Grace showed signs of being slightly annoyed. He looked at his watch. I
told her she'd better be in by four. She says that she's not feeling
well, and yet one would think that she was not aware of the fatigue
entailed and having the Prince come to dinner and the mob of people to follow.
I particularly wished her to lie down for a couple of hours. Knowles
ushered in not only Barnes, the coachman, but Moisey the footman too.
Both these persons seemed to be ill at ease. The Duke glanced at them
sharply. In his voice there was a suggestion of impatience. What is the
matter, Barnes explained as best he could, if you please, your grace,
we waited for the duchess outside Cain and Wilson's the drapers. The duchess
came out, got into the carriage, and Moisey shut the door, and
her grace said home. And if yet when we got home, she wasn't
there. She wasn't ware, her grace wasn't in the carriage, or grace,
what on earth do you mean her grace did get into the carriage?
You shut the door, didn't you. Barnes turned to Moisey. Moysey brought
his hand up to his brow in a sort of military salute. He had
been a soldier in the regiment in which, once upon a time the Duke
had been a subaltern. She did. The duchess came out of the shop.
She seemed rather in a hurry. I thought she got into the carriage,
and she said home, noisy. I shut the door and bends drove
straight home. We never stopped anywhere, and we never noticed nothing happened on
the way, And yet when we got home the carriage was empty. The
Duke started, do you mean to tell me that the duchess got out of
the carriage while you were driving full pelt through the streets without saying anything to
you, and without you noticing it? The carriage was empty when we got
home. Your grace was either of the doors open. No, your grace,
you fellows have been up to some infernal mischief. You've made a mess
of it. You never picked up the duchess, and your trying to palm
this tail off on me to save yourselves. Barnes was moved to adjuration.
I'll take my bible oath your grace that the duchess caught into the carriage outside
cane and Wilson's Moisey seconded his colleague, I will swear to that, your
grace, she got into that carriage and I shut the door, and she
said home, Moisey. The Duke looked as if he did not know what
to make of the story and its tellers. What carriage did you have?
Her grace's browam your grace, Knowles interposed. The browham was ordered because I
understood the Duchess was not feeling very well, and there's rather a high wind,
your grace, the Duke snapped at him, What has that to do
with it? Why are suggesting that the Duchess was more likely to jump out
of a browm while it was dashing through the streets than that of any other
kind of vehicle. The Duke's glance fell on the letter which Knowles had brought
him. When he first had entered. He had placed it on his writing
table. Now he took it up. It was addressed to his Grace,
the Duke of Datchet Private, very pressing. The name was written in a
fine, clear, almost feminine hand. The words in the left hand corner
of the envelope were written in a different hand. They were large and bold,
almost as though they had been painted with the end of the pen holder
instead of being written with the pen. The envelope itself was of an unusual
size and bowldsed out, as though it contained something else besides a letter.
The Duke tore the envelope open. As he did so, something fell out
of it on to the writing table. It looked as though it was a
lock of a woman's hair. As he glanced at it, The Duke seemed
to be a trifle startled. The Duke read the letter. Your grace will
be so good as to bring five hundred pounds in gold to the Piccadilly end
of the Burlington Arcade within an hour of the receipt of this. The Duchess
of Dachet has been kidnapped an imitation. Duchess got into the carriage which was
waiting outside Caine and Wilson's, and she alighted on the road. Unless your
Grace does as you are requested, the Duchess of Dachet's left hand little finger
will be at once cut off and sent home in time to receive the Prince
to dinner. Other portions of her grace will follow. A lock of her
Grace's hair is enclosed with this as an earnest of our good intentions. Before
five thirty p m. Your Grace is requested to be at the Piccadilly end
of the Burlington Arcade with five hundred pounds in gold. You will there be
accosted by an individual in a white top hat and with a gardenia in his
button hole. You will be entirely at liberty to give him into custody,
or to have him followed by the police, in which case the Duchess's left
arm, cut off at the shoulder, will be sent home for dinner.
Not to mention other extremely possible contingencies, but you are advised to give the
individual in question the five hundred pounds in gold, because in that case the
Duchess herself will be home in time to receive the Prince to dinner, and
with one of the best stories with which to entertain your distinguished guests they ever
heard. Remember, not later than five thirty, unless you wished to receive
her Grace's little finger. The Duke stared at this amazing epistle when he had
read it, as though he found it difficult to believe the evidence of his
eyes. He was not a demonstrative person as a rule, but this little
communication astonished even him. He read it again. Then his hands dropped to
his sides, and he swore he took up the lock of hair which had
fallen out of the envelope. Was it possible that it could be his wife's
the duchess? Was it possible that a Duchess of Datchet could be kidnapped in
broad daylight, in the heart of London and be sent home, as it
were in pieces. Had sacrilegeous hands already been playing pranks with that great lady's
hair? Certainly that hair was so like her hair that the mere resemblance made
his Grace's blood run cold. He turned on Mescher's bonds and Noisy, as
though he would have liked to rend them your scoundals. He moved forward as
though the intention had entered his ducal heart to knock his servants down. But
if that were so, he did not act quite up to his intention.
Instead, he stretched out his arm, pointing at them, as if he
were an accusing spirit. Will you swear that it was the duchess who got
into the carriage outside Caine and Wilson's Barnes began to stammer, I swear,
your grace that are thought. The Duke stormed in interruption. I don't ask
what your thought. I ask you, Will you swear it was the Duke's
anger was more than Barnes could face. He was silent, Noisy showed a
larger courage. I could have sworn that it was at the time, your
Grace, But now it seems to me that it's a rummy go a rummy
go. The peculiarity of the phrase did not seem to strike the Duke just
then, At least he echoed it as if it didn't you call it a
rummy go? Do you know that I am told in this letter that the
woman who entered the carriage was not the duchess. What you are thinking about,
or what case you will be able to make out for yourselves? You
no better than I. But I can tell you this that in an hour
you will leave my service, and you may esteem yourselves fortunate. If to
night you are not both of you sleeping in jail. One might almost have
suspected that the words were spoken in irony. But before they could answer,
another servant entered, who also brought a letter for the Duke. When his
grace's glance fell on it, he uttered an exclamation. The writing on the
envelope was the same writing that had been on the envelope which had contained the
very singular communication, like it in all respects, down to the broomstick and
thickness of the private and very pressing in the corner. Who brought this stormed
the Duke. The servant appeared to be a little startled by the violence of
his grace's manner. A lady, or at least your grace. She seemed
to be a lady. Where is she? She came, and a handsome,
your grace. She gave me that letter and said give to the Duke
of Datchet at once, without a moment's to lie. Then she got into
the hansom again and drove away. Why didn't you stop her, your grace?
The man seemed surprised, as though the idea of stopping Chan's visitors to
the ducal mansion Viet Armis had not until that moment entered into his philosophy.
The Duke continued to regard the man as if he could say a good deal
if he chose. Then he pointed to the door. His lips said nothing,
but his gesture much the servant vanished. Another hoax, the Duke said
grimly, as he tore the envelope open. This time the envelope contained a
sheet of paper, and in the sheet of paper another envelope. The Duke
unfolded the sheet of paper. On it, some words were written. These,
the duchess appears so particularly anxious to drop you a line, that one
really hasn't the heart to refuse her her grace's communication, written amidst blinding tears,
you will find enclosed with this, Knowles, said the Duke, in
a voice which actually trembled. Knowles, oaks or no Wolkes. I will
be even with a gentleman who wrote that. Handing the sheet of paper to
mister Knowles, his grace turned his attention to the envelope which had been enclosed.
It was a small square envelope of the finest quality, and it reeked
with perfume. The Duke's countenance assumed an added frown. He had no fondness
for envelopes which were scented In the center of the envelope, with the words
to the Duke of Datchet written in the big, bold, sprawling hand which
he knew so well Mabel's writing, he said half to himself, as with
shaking fingers, he tore the envelope open. The sheet of paper which he
took out was almost as stiff as cardboard. It too, emitted what his
grace deemed the nauseous odor of the perfumer's shop. On it was written this
letter, my dear Herward, for Heaven's sake, do what these people require.
I don't know what has happened where I am. But I am nearly
distracted. They have already cut off some of my hair, and they tell
me that if you don't let them have five hundred pounds in gold by half
past five, they will cut off my little finger too. I would sooner
die than lose my little finger. And I don't know what else besides by
the token which I send you, and which has never until now been off
my breast. I conjure you to help me. How would help me?
When he read that letter, the Duke turned white, very white, as
white as the paper on which it was written. He passed the epistle on
to Knowles. I suppose that also is a hoax. Mister Knowles was silent.
He still yielded to his constitutional disrelish to commit himself. At last,
he asked, what is it that your grace proposes to do. The Duke
spoke with a bitterness which almost suggested a personal animosity toward the inoffensive mister Knowles.
I propose, with your permission, to release the Duchess from the custody
of my estimable correspondent. I propose, always with your permission, to comply
with his modest request and to take him his five hundred pounds in gold.
He paused, then continued in a tone which coming from him meant volumes.
Afterwards, I proposed to cry quits with the cococtor of this petty little hoax,
even if it cost me every penny I possess he shall pay more for
that five hundred pounds than he supposes. End of Chapter one, Chapter two.
The Duke of Dajet, coming out of the bank, lingered for a
moment on the steps. In one hand he carried a canvas bag, which
seemed well weighted. On his countenance there was an expression which, to a
casual observer might have suggested that his grace was not completely at his ease.
That casual observer happened to come strolling by. It took the form of Ivor
Dacre. Mister Dacre looked at the Duke of Datchet up and down in that
languid way he has he perceived the canvas bag. Then he remarked, possibly
intending to be facetious, been robbing the bank? Shall I call a cart?
Nobody minds what Ivor Dacre says. Besides, he is the Duke's own
cousin, perhaps a little removed. Still there it is so. The Duke
smiled a sickly smile, as if mister Dacre's delicate wit had given him a
passing touch of indigestion. Mister Daker noticed that the Duke looked sallow, so
he gave his pretty sense of humor another airing kitchen boiler burst. When I
saw the duchess just now, I wondered if it had his grace distinctly started.
He almost dropped the canvas bag. You saw the duchess just now?
Ivor whin? The Duke was evidently moved, Mister Dacre was stirred to languid
curiosity. I can't say I clocked it, perhaps half an hour ago,
maybe a little more half an hour ago. Are you sure? Where did
you see her? Mister Dacre wondered, the Duchess of Datchet could scarcely have
been eloping in broad daylight. Moreover, she had not yet been married a
year. Everyone knew that she and the Duke were still as fond of each
other as if they were not man and wife. So although the Duke,
for some cause or other, was evidently in an odd state of agitation,
mister Dacre saw no reason why he should not make a clean breast of all
he knew she was going like blazes in a handsome cab, In a handsome
cab. Where down Waterloo place? Was she alone? Mister Dacre reflected.
He glanced at the Duke out of the corners of his eyes. His languid
utterance became a positive drawl. I rather fancy that she wasn't Who was with
her, my dear fellow. If you were to for me the bank,
I couldn't tell you. Was it a man? Mister Dacre's droll became still
more pronounced. I rather fancy that it was. Mister Dacre expected something.
The Duke was so excited, but he by no means expected what actually came.
Iv or she's been kidnapped. Mister Dacre did what had never been known
to do before within the memory of man. He dropped his eyeglasses, dash
it she has some scoundrel has decoyed her away and trapped her. He's already
sent me a lock of her hair, and he tells me that if I
don't let him have five hundred pounds in gold by half past five, he'll
let me have her little finger. Mister Dacre did not know what to make
of his grace at all. He was a sober man. It couldn't be
that mister Dacre felt really concerned. I'll call a cab old man, and
you'd better let me see you home. Mister Dacre half raised his stick to
hail a passing hansom. The Duke caught him by the arm. You ass,
what do you mean? I'm telling you the simple truth. My wife's
been kidnapped. Mister Dacre's countenance was a thing to be seen and remembered.
Oh, I hadn't heard that there was much of that sort of thing about.
Just now they talk of poodles being kidnapped. But as for duchesses,
you'd really better let me call that cab I for do you want me to
kick you? Don't you see that? To me, it's a question of
life and death. I've been in there to get the money. His grace
motioned toward the bank. I'm going to take it to the scamandrel who has
my darling and his mercy. Let me but have her hand in mine again,
and he shall continue to pay for every sovereign with tears of blood until
he dies. Look here, dadgitt, I don't know if you're having a
joke with me? Or if you're not well? The Duke stepped impatiently into
the roadway. I'm or you are a fool. Can't you tell Jess from
ernest health from disease? I'm off? Are you coming with me? It
would be as well that I should have a witness. Where are you off
too? To the other end of the arcade. Who is the gentleman you
expect to have the pleasure of meeting there? How should I know? The
Duke took a letter from his pocket. It was the letter which had just
arrived. The fellow is to wear a white top hat and a guardena in
his button hole. What is it you have there? It's the letter which
brought the news. Look for yourself and see. But for God's sake,
make haste his grace glanced at his watch. It's already twenty after five.
And do you mean to say that, on the strength of a letter such
as this you are going to hand over five hundred pounds to the Duke?
Cut mister Dacre short, What are five hundred pounds to me? Besides,
you don't know all There is another letter, and I have heard from Mabel,
but I will tell you all about that later, if you are coming,
come pulling up the letter. Mister Dacre returned it to the Duke.
As you say, what are five hundred pounds to you? And as well
they are not as much to you as they are to me. I am
afraid hang it, I've all due prose. Afterwards, the Duke hurried across
the road. Mister Daker hastened after him. As they entered the arcade,
they passed a constable. Mister Dacre touched his companion's arm. Didn't you think
we'd butter ask our friend in blue to walk behind us. His neighborhood might
be handy. Nonsense? The Duke's doctorate aboor. This is my affair,
not yours. If you are not content to play the part of silent witness,
be so good as to leave me, My dear datchet. I'm entirely
at your service. I can be every whit as insane as you, I
do assure you. Side by side, they moved rapidly down the Burlington arcade.
The Duke was obviously in a state of the extremest nervous tension. Mister
Daker was equally obviously in a state of the most supreme enjoyment. People stared
as they rushed past. The Duke saw nothing. Mister Dacre saw everything and
smiled. When they reached the Piccadilly end of the arcade, the Duke pulled
up. He looked about him. Mister Dacre also looked about him. I
see nothing of your white hat had and gardenia button, old friend, said
Ivor. The Duke referred to his watch. It's not yet half past five.
I'm up to time. Mister Daker held his stick in front of him
and leaned on it. He indulged himself with a beautific smile. It strikes
me, my dear old Dadgitt, that you've been the victim of one of
the finest things in hoaxes. I hope I haven't kept you waiting. The
voice which interrupted mister Dacre came from the rear. While they were looking in
front of them, some one approached them from behind, apparently coming out of
the shop which was at their backs. The speaker looked a gentleman. He
sounded like one too. Costume appearance, manner were beyond reproach, even beyond
the criticism of two such keen critics, as were these the glorious attire of
a London, and dandy was surmounted with a beautiful white top hat. In
his button hole was a magnificent guardinia in age. The stranger was scarcely more
than a boy, and a sunny faced, handsome boy at that. His
cheeks were hairless, his eyes were blue. His smile was not only innocent,
it was bland. Never was there a more conspicuous illustration of that repose
which stamps the case of Vere de Vere. The Duke looked at him and
glowered. Mister Dacre looked at him and smiled. Who are you, asked
the Duke. Ah, that is the question. The newcomers refined and musical
voice breathed the very soul of appability. I am an individual who is so
unfortunate as to be in want of five hundred pounds. I you the scoundrel
who sent me that infamous letter. The charming stranger never turned a hair.
I am the scoundrel mentioned in that infamous letter who wants to accost you at
the Piccadilly end of the Burlington Arcade before half past five, as witness my
white hat and my guardina. Where's my wife? The stranger gently swung his
stick in front of him with his two hands. He regarded the Duke as
a merry hearted son might regard his father. The thing was beautiful. Her
Grace will be home almost as soon as you are, when you have given
me the money which I perceive you have all ready for me in that scarcely
elegant looking canvas bag. He shrugged his shoulders quite gracefully. Unfortunately, in
these matters one has no choice. One is forced to ask for gold.
And suppose, instead of giving you what is in this canvas bag, I
take you by the throat and choke the life right out of you. Or
suppose, admitted mister Daker, that you do better and commend this gentleman to
the tender mercies of the first policeman we encounter. The stranger turned to missus
Dacre. He condescended to become conscious of his presence. Is this gentleman your
Grace's friend, ah, mister taker, I perceive I have the honor of
knowing mister Dacre, though possibly I am unknown to him you were until this
moment. With an airy little laugh, the stranger returned to the Duke.
He brush an invisible speck of dust off the sleeve of his coat, as
has been intimated in this infamous letter, his grace is at perfect liberty to
give me into custody. Why not only, he said it with his boyish
smile. If a particular communication is not received from me in certain quarters within
a certain time, the Duchess of Datchet's beautiful white arm will be hacked off
at the shoulder you owned. The Duke would have taken the stranger by the
throat and have done his best to choke the life right out of him then
and there, if mister Dacre had not intervened. Still, you man,
mister Dacre turned to the stranger. You appear to be a pretty sort of
scoundrel. The stranger gave his shoulders that almost imperceptible shrug. Oh, my
dear Dacre, I am in want of money. I believe that you sometimes
are in want of money too. Everybody knows that nobody knows where Ivor Dacre
gets his money from, so the illusion must have tickled him immensely. You're
a cool hand, he said. Some men are born that way, so
I should imagine men like you must be born, not made precisely as you
say. The stranger turned, with a graceful smile to the Duke, But
are we not wasting precious time? I can assure your grace that in this
particular matter, moments are of value. Mister Daker interposed before the Duke could
answer. If you take my strongly urged advice statute, you will summon this
constable, who is now coming down the arcade, and hand this gentleman over
to his key. I do not think that you need fear that the Duchess
will lose her arm or even her little finger. Scoundrels of this one's kidney
are most amenable to reason when they have handcuffs on their wrists. The Duke
plainly hesitated, he would and he would not. The stranger, as he
eyed him, seemed much amused. My dear Duke, by all means act
on mister Dacre's valuable suggestion. As I said before, why not it would
at least be interesting to see if the Duchess does or does not lose her
arm. Almost as interesting to you as to mister Dacre. Those blackmailing,
kidnapping scoundrels do use such empty menaces. Besides, you would have the pleasure
of seeing me locked up. My imprisonment for life will recompense you even for
the loss of her grace's arm. And five hundred pounds is such a sum
to have to pay merely for a wife. Why not therefore act on mister
Daker's suggestion? Here comes the constable. The constable referred to was advancing toward
them. He was not a dozen yards away. Let me beckon to him,
I will with pleasure. He took out his watch, a gold chronograph
repeater. There are scarcely ten minutes left during which it would be possible for
me to send the communication which I spoke of, so that it may arrive
in time, as it will then be too late, and the instruments are
already prepared for the little operation which her Grace is eagerly anticipating. It would
perhaps be as well, after all, that you should give me into charge.
You would have saved your five hundred pounds, and you would at any
rate have something in exchange for her Grace's mutilated limb ah. Here is the
constable officer. The stranger spoke with such a pleasant little air of easy geniality
that it was impossible to tell if he were in jest or in earnest.
This fact impressed the Duke much more than if he had gone in for a
liberal indulgence of the under the circumstances, orthodox, melodramatic scowling, and indeed
in the face of his own common sense. It impressed mister Ivor Dake too.
This well bred, well groomed youth was just the being to realize or
bous desenglis, a modern type of the devil, the type which depicts himself
as a perfect gentleman who keeps smiling all the time. The constable, whom
this audacious rogue had signaled, approached the little group. He addressed the stranger,
do you want me, sir? No, I do not want you.
I think it is the Duke of Datchet. The constable, who knew
the Duke very well by sight, saluted him as he turned to receive instructions.
The Duke looked white, even savage. There was not a pleasant look
in his eyes, and about his lips. He appeared to be endeavoring to
put a great restraint upon himself. There was a momentary silence. Mister Dacre
made a movement as if to interpose. The Duke caught him by the arm.
He spoke, no, Constable, I do not want you. This
person is mistaken. The constable looked as if he could not quite make out
how such a mistake could have arisen. Hesitated, Then with another salute,
he moved away. The stranger was still holding his watch in his hand.
Only eight minutes, he said. The Duke seemed to experience some difficulty in
giving utterance to what he had to say. If I give you this five
hundred pounds, your knew. As the Duke paused, as if at a
loss for language which was strong enough to convey his meaning, the stranger laughed,
let us take adjitives for granted. Besides it only boys who call each
other names. Men do things. If you give me the five hundred sovereigns
which you have in that bag at once in five minutes, it will be
too late. I will promise, I will not swear. If you do
not credit my simple promise, you will not believe my solemn affirmations. I
will promise that, possibly within an hour, certainly within an hour and a
half, the Duchess of Dechtet Sir returned to you absolutely uninjured, except,
of course, as you are already aware, with regard to a few of
the hairs on her head. I will promise this on the understanding that you
do not yourself attempt to see where I go, and that you will allow
no one else to do so. This with a glance at Ivor Dacre,
I shall know at once if I am followed. If you entertain such intentions,
you had better, on all accounts remain in possession of your five hundred
pounds. The Duke eyed him very grimly. I entertain no such intentions until
the Duchess returns again. The stranger indulged in that musical laugh of his ah.
Until the Duchess returns, of course, then the bargains at an end.
When you are at once more in the enjoyment of Her Grace's society,
you will be at liberty to set all the dogs in Europe at my heels.
I assure you, I fully expect that you will do so. Why
not the Duke raised the canvas bag. My dear Duke, ten thousand thanks.
You shall see Her Grace at Datchet House upon my honor, possibly within
the hour, well commented Ivor Dacre, when the stranger had vanished with the
bag into Piccadilly, and as the Duke and himself moved toward Burlington Gardens.
If a gentleman is to be robbed. It is as well that he should
have another gentleman rob him. End of chapter two. Chapter three. Mister
Daker eyed his companion covertly as they progressed. His grace of Datchet appeared to
have some fresh cause for uneasiness. All at once he gave it utterance,
in a tone of voice which is extremely somber. I forord you think that
scoundrel will dare to play me false? I think, murmured mister Dacre,
that he has dared to play you pretty false already. I don't mean that,
but I mean, how am I to know, now that he has
his money, that he will not he still keep Mabel in his clutches.
There came an echo from mister Dacre, just so, how are you to
know? I believe that something on the sort has been done in the States.
I thought that there they were content to kidnap them after they were dead.
I was not aware that they had as yet got so far as the
living. I believe I have heard of something just like this. Possibly they
are giants over there, and in that case, the scoundrels, when their
demands were met, refused to keep to the letter of their bargain. And
asked for more. The Duke stood still. He clenched his fists and swore,
I who have that villain doesn't keep his word, and Mabel isn't home
with any hour by I shall go mad, My dear dadget Mister Dacre loved
strong language as little as he loved a scene. Let us trust to time
and a little to your white hatted and gardenia buttonhold friend's word of honor.
You should have thought of possible eventualities before you showed your confidence. Really suppose
instead of going mad, we first of all go home. A handsome stood
waiting for affair at the end of the arcade. Mister Daker had handed the
Duke into it before his grace had quite realized that the vehicle was there.
Tell the fellow to drive faster. That was what the Duke said when the
cab had started. My dear datchet, the man's already driving his gearage off
its legs. If a bobby catches sight of him, he'll take his number.
A moment later, a murmur from the Duke, I know if you
are aware that the Prince is coming to dinner. I am perfectly aware of
it. You take it uncommonly cool, how easy it is to bear our
brother's burdens Ibill. If Mabel doesn't turn up, I shall feel like murder.
I sympathize with you dat It with all my heart, though I may
observe parenthetically that I very far from realize the situation even yet. Take my
advice. If the Duchess does not show quite as soon as we both of
us desire, don't make a scene. Just let me see what I can
do. Judging from the expression of his countenance, the Duke was conscious of
no overwhelming desire to witness an exhibition of mister Daker's prowess. When the cab
reached Thatchet house, his Grace dashed up the steps three at a time.
The door flew open. Has the duchess returned, Howard, a voice floated
downward from above. Some one came running down the stairs. It was her
Grace of Datchet, Mabel. She actually rushed into the Duke's extended arms,
and he kissed her, and she kissed him before the servants. So you're
not quite did she cried? I am almost, he said. She drew
herself a little away from him. Howard, were you seriously hurt? Do
you suppose I could have been otherwise than seriously hurt my darling. Was it
a Pickford's van? The duke stared up Pickford's van. I don't understand,
but come in here, come along ivor Mabel, you don't see Ivor how
do you do mister Dacre? Then the trio withdrew into a little ante room.
It was really time. Even then the pair conducted themselves as if mister
Dacre had been nothing and no one. The Duke took the lady's two hands
in his He eyed her fondly. So you are uninjured, with the exception
of that lock of hair. Where did the vidan take it from? The
lady looked a little puzzled. What lock of hair? From an envelope which
he took from his pocket. The Duke produced a shining tress. It was
the lock of hair which had arrived in the first communication. I will have
it framed. You will have what framed. The duchess glanced at what the
Duke was so tenderly caressing, almost as it seemed a little dubiously. Whatever
is it you have there? It is the lock of hair. When that
scound will send me something in the lady's face caused him to ask a question.
Didn't he tell you he had sent it to me? Her? What
did the brute tell you he meant to cut off your finger? A very
curious look came into the lady's face. She glanced at the Duke as if
she all at once was half afraid of him. She cast at mister Daker
what really seemed to be a look of inquiry. Her voice was tremulously anxious.
Who did did the accident affect you mentally? How could it not have
affected me mentally? Do you think my mental organization is of steel? But
you look so well? Of course I look well now that I have you
back again, tell me, darling, to that hound actually threaten you with
cutting off your arm? If he did, I shall have you'll have inclined
to kill him. Yet the Dutch seemed positively to shrink from her better HAPs
near neighborhood? Was it a Pickford's van? The Duke seemed puzzled, Well,
he might be. What a Pickford van? The lady turned to mister
Daker. In her voice there was a ring of anguish. Mister Daker,
tell me was it a Pickford's van? Ivor could only imitate his relative's repetition
of her inquiry, I didn't quite catch you? Was what a bigfor the
van? The Duchess clasped her hands in front of her. What is it
you're keeping from me? What is it you're trying to hide? I implore
you to tell me the worst, whatever it may be. Do not keep
me any longer in suspense. You do not know what I've already endured.
Mister Taker, is my husband mad? One? Need scarcely observe that.
The lady's amazing appeal to mister Daker as to her husband's sanity was received with
something like surprise. As the Duke continued to stare at her, a dreadful
fear began to loomin his brain. My darling, your brain is unhinged.
He advanced to take her two hands again in his but to his unmistakable distress,
she shrank away from him. How don't touch me? How is it
that I missed you? Why did you not wait until I came? Wait
until you came? The Duke's bewilderment increased. Surely, if you're in he
turned out, after all, to be slight. That was all the more
reason why you should have waited after sending for me like that I sent for
you. I The Duke's tone was grave, My darling, perhaps you had
better come upstairs, not until we've had an explanation. You must have known
that I should come. Why did you not wait for me after you had
sent me that? The duchess held out something to the Duke. He took
it, and it was a card, his own visiting card. Something was
written on the back of it. He read aloud what was written, Mabel,
come to me at once with the bearer. They tell me that they
cannot take me home. It looks like my own writing, looks like it.
It is your writing. It looks like it, and written with a
shaky pen, dear child, one's hand would shake at such a moment as
that. Mabel, Where did you get this? And it was brought to
me at Canaan Wilson's. Who brought it? Who brought it? Why the
man you sent? The man I sent? A light burst upon the Duke's
brain. He fell back a pace. It's the decoy, her grace echoed
the words, the decoy, the scoundrel to set the trap with such a
bait. My boy, it isn't darling. Did you think it came from
me. Tell me, Mabel, where did he cut off your hair?
Cut off my hair? Her grace put her hand to her head, as
if to make sure that her hair was there. Where did he take you
to? He took me to Draper's buildings. Draper's buildings. I have never
been in the city before, but he told me it was Draper's buildings.
Isn't that near the stock Exchange? Near the stock Exchange? It seemed rather
a curious place to which to take the kidnapped victim. The man's audacity.
He told me that you were coming out of the stock Exchange when a van
knocked you over. He said that he thought it was a Pickford's van.
Was it a Pickford's van? No, it was not a Pickford's van.
Mabel. Were you in Draper's buildings when you wrote that letter? Wrote?
What letter? Have you forgotten it already? I do not believe that there
was a word in it which will not be branded on my brain until I
die? Herwood, What do you mean, Surely you cannot have written me
such a letter as that and then forgotten it already. He handed her the
letter, which had arrived in the second communication. She glanced at it,
askance. Then she took it with a little gasp. Howard, if you
don't mind, I think I'll take a chair. She took a chair.
Wh whatever, whatever is this? As she read the letter, the varying
expressions which passed across her face were in themselves a study in psychology. Is
it possible that you can imagine that, under any conceivable circumstances I could have
written such a letter as this? Mabel? She rose to her feet with
emphasis. How would don't say you thought this came from me, not from
you? He remembered Nol's diplomatic reception of the epistle on its first appearance.
I suppose you will say next that this is not a lock of your hair,
My dear child would be, Have you got in your bonnet this a
lock of my hair? Why? It's not the least bit like my hair?
Which was certainly inaccurate. As far as color was concerned, it was
an almost perfect match. The Duke turned to mister Dacre. I or I've
had to go through a good deal this afternoon. If I have to go
through much more, something will crack. He touched his forehead. I think
it's my turn to take a chair, not the one which the Duchess had
vacated, but one which faced it. He stretched out his legs in front
of him. He thrust his hands into his trouser pockets. He said,
in a tone which was not gloomy but absolutely gruesome. Might I ask Mabel
if you have been kidnapped? Kidnapped? The word I used was kidnapped,
but I will spell it if you like, or I will get a dictionary
that you may see us meaning. The Duchess looked as if she was beginning
to be not quite sure if she was awake or sleeping. She turned to
Ivor, mister taker, has the accident affected herward's brain? The Duke took
the words out of his cousin's mouth. On that point, my dear,
let me ease your mind. I don't know if you are under the impression
that I should be in the same shape after a Pickford's van had run over
me as I was before. But in any case, I have not been
run over by a Pickford's van. So far as I am concerned, there
has been no accident. Dismissed that delusion from your mind. Oh you appear
surprised, One might even think you were sorry. But may I now ask
what you did when you arrived at Draper's buildings? Did I looked for you?
Indeed? And when you had looked in Vain, what was the next
item in your program? The lady shrank still farther from him her what have
you been having a jest? At my expense? Can you have been so
cruel? Tears stood in her eyes, rising, the Duke laid his hand
upon her arm. Mabel, tell me what did you do when you had
looked for me in Vain? I look you upstairs, downstairs, and everywhere
was quite a large place. It took me ever such a time. I
thought that I should go distracted. Nobody seemed to know anything about you,
or even that there had been an accident at all. It was all officers.
I couldn't make it out in the least, and that people didn't seem
to be able to make me out either. So when I couldn't find you
anywhere, it came straight home again. The Duke was silent for a moment,
then, with a funeral gravity, he turned to mister Dacre. He
put to him this question, ivel what are you laughing at? Mister Dacre
drew his hand across his mouth with a rather suspicious gesture, my dear fellow,
only a smile. The Duchess looked from one to the other. What
have you two been doing? What is the joke? With an air of
preternatural solemnity, the Duke took two letters from the breast pocket of his coat.
Mabel, you have already seen your letter. You have already seen the
lock of your hair. Just look at this and that. He gave her
the two very singular communications, which had arrived in such a mysterious manner,
and so quickly one after the other. She read them with wide open eyes.
How wherever did these come from? The Duke was standing with his legs
apart and his hands in his trouser pockets. I would give I would give
another five hundred pounds to know. Shall I tell you, madam, what
I have been doing. I have been presenting five hundred golden sovereigns to a
perfect stranger with a top hat and a gardenia in his button hole. Whatever
for if you have perused these documents which you have in your hand, you
will have some faint idea I've all when it's your funeral, as'll smile,
Mabel, Duchess of dabt it. It is beginning to dawn upon the vacuum
which represents my brain, that I've been the victim of one of the prettiest
things and practical jokes that ever yet was planned. When that fellow brought you
that card at Caanan Wilson's, which I need scarce, they tell you,
never came from me. Someone walked out the front entrance who was so exactly
like you. Both Bounds and Moisy took her for you. Moisey showed her
into the carriage, and Barns drove her home. But when the carriage reached
home it was empty. Your double had got out upon the road. The
Duchess uttered a sound which was half gasp, half sigh her what Barns and
Moisy, with beautiful and childlike innocence, when they found that they had brought
the thing home empty, It came straight away and told me you had jumped
out of the brow while I had been driving full pelt through the streets.
While I was digesting that piece of information, there came the first epistle with
the lock of your hair. Before I had time to digest that, there
came the second epistle with yours inside. It seems incredible. It sounds incredible,
but unfathomable is the folly of man, especially of a man who loves
his wife. The Duke crossed to mister Dacre. I don't want ivor to
suggest anything in the way of bribery and corruption, But if you could keep
this matter to yourself, not mention it to your friends, A white hattered
and Guardina buttonhold acquaintance, and welcome to his five hundred pounds. And Mabel,
what on earth are you laughing at? The duchess appeared all at once
to be seized with inextinguishable laughter. Oh just think how that man must be
laughing at you. And the Duke of Datchet thought of it. End of
the Last Duchess