Speaker 1: Hunted down. Most of us see romances in life. In
my capacity of a chief manager of a life insurance office,
I think I have, within the last thirty years seen
more romances than the generality of men. However unpromising the
opportunity may at first I have seen. As I have
retired and live at my ease, I possess the means
that I used to want of considering what I have
seen at leisure. My experiences have a more remarkable aspect
so reviewed than they had when they were in progress.
I have come home from the plain now and can
recall the scenes of the drama upon which curtain has fallen,
free from the glare, bewilderment, and bustle of the theater.
Let me recall one of these romances of the real world.
There is nothing truer than the physiognomy taken in connection
with manner. The art of reading that book of which
eternal wisdom obliges every human creature to present his or
her own page with individual character written on it is
a difficult one, perhaps, and is little studied. It may
require some natural aptitude, and it must require, for everything
does some patience, and some pains. That these are not
usually given to it. The number of people except a
few stock commonplace expressions of the face as the whole
list of characteristics, and neither seek nor know the refinements
that are truest. That you, for instance, give a great
deal of time and attention to the reading of music Greek, Latin, French, Italian, Hebrew,
if you please, and do not qualify yourself to read
the face of the master or mistress looking over your
shoulder teaching it to you, I assume to be five
hundred times more probable than improbable. Perhaps so little self
sufficiency may be at the bottom of this facial expression
requires no study from you. You think it comes by
nature to you to know enough about it, and you
are not to be taken in. I confess for my
part that I have been taken in over and over again.
I have been taken in by acquaintances, and I have
been taken in, of course by friends, far oftener by
friends than by any other class of persons. How can
I be so deceived? Had I quite misread their faces? No,
believe me, My first impression of those people, founded on
face and the manner alone, was invariably true. My mistake
was in suffering them to come nearer to me and
explain themselves away. The partition which separated by own office
from our general outer office in the city was of
thick plate glass. Through it what passed in the outer office,
without hearing a word. I had it put in place
of a wall that had been there for years, ever
since the house was built. It is no matter whether
I did or did not make the change in order
that I might derive my first impression of strangers who
came to us on business from their faces alone, without
being influenced by anything. They said enough to mention that
I turned my glass partition to that account, and that
a life assurance office is all times exposed to be
practiced upon by the most crafty and cruel of the
human grace. It was through my glass partition that I
first saw the gentleman whose story I am going to tell.
He had come in without my observing it, and had
put his hat and his umbrella on the broad counter,
and was bending over to take some papers from one
of the clerks. He was about forty or so, dark,
exceedingly well dressed in black, being in mourning, and the
hand he extended with a polite air had a particularly
well fitting black kipped glove upon it. His hair was
elaborately brushed and oiled, was sparted straight up the middle.
And he presented this parting to the clerk exactly to
my thinking, as if he had said, in so many words,
you must take me, if you please, my friend, just
as I show myself. Come straight up here, follow the
gravel path, keep up the grass. I allow no trespassing.
I conceived a very great aversion to that man the
moment I thus saw him. He had asked for some
of her printed forms, and the clerk was giving them
to him and explaining them, and her obliged and agreeable
smile was on his face, and his eyes met those
of the clerk with a sprightly look. I have known
a vast quantity of nonsense being talked about, bad men
not looking you in the face. Don't trust that conventional idea.
Dishonesty will stare honesty out of countenance any day in
the week, if there is anything to be cut by it.
I saw in the corner of his eyelash that he
became aware of my looking at him. Immediately he turned
the parting in his head towards the glass partition as
if he said to me, with a sweet smile, straight
up here, if you please off the grass. In a
few moments he had put on his hat and taken
up his umbrella, and was gone. I beckoned the clerk
into my room and asked who was there. He had
a gentleman's card in his hand, mister Julius Slington, Middle Temple,
A barrister, mister Adams. I think not, sir. I should
have thought him a clergyman, but for his having no
reverend here, said I, probably from his appearance. Mister Adams replied,
he is reading for orders. I had mentioned that he
wore a dainty white cravat and a dainty linen altogether.
What did he want, mister Adams, merely a form of proposal, sir,
and a form of reference recommended here? Did he say? Yes?
He said he was recommended here by a friend of yours.
He noticed you, but said that as he had not
the pleasure of your personal acquaintance, he would not trouble you.
Did you know my name? Oh, yes, sir, he said,
there is mister Sampson. I see a well spoken gentleman,
apparently remarkably so, sir. Insinuating manners apparently very much so. Indeed,
Sir Hah said, I, I were nothing at present, mister Adams.
Within a fortnight of that day, I went to dine
with a friend of mine, a merchant, a man of
taste who buys pictures and books, And the first man
I saw among the company was mister Julius Slington. There
he was standing before the fire, with good large eyes
and an open expression of face. But still I thought,
requiring everybody to come at him by the prepared way
he offered, and by no other I noticed him. Ask
my friend to introduce him to mister Samson, and my
friend did so. Mister Slington was very happy to see me,
not too happy, there was no overdoing of the matter,
happy in a thoroughly well bred, perfectly unmeaning way. I
thought you had met our host, observed, No, said mister Slington.
I did look in at mister Sampson's office on your recommendation,
but I really did not feel justified in troubling mister
Sampson himself on a point in the everyday routine of
an ordinary clerk. I said, I should have been glad
to show him any attention on our friend's introduction. I
am sure of that, said he, and I am much obliged.
At another time, perhaps I may be less delicate, only, however,
if I had real business. For I know, mister Sampson,
how precious your business time is, and what a vast
number of impertinent people there are in the world. I
acknowledge this consideration with a slight bow. You were thinking,
said I, of affecting a policy on your life. Oh dear, no,
I am afraid I am not so prudent as you
pay me the compliment of supposing me to be. Mister Samson.
I merely inquired for a friend, But you know what
friends are. In such matters, nothing may ever come of it.
I have the great reluctance to trouble men of business
with inquiries for friends, knowing the probabilities to be a
thousand to one that the friends will never follow them up.
People are so facal, so selfish, so inconsiderate. Don't you
in your business find them? So, mister Samson. I was
going to give a qualified answer, but he turned his
smooth white parting on me with its straight up here
if you please, and I answered, yes, I hear, mister Sampson.
He resumed presently for our friend had a new cook,
and dinner was not so punctual as usual. That your
profession has recently suffered a great loss in money, said I.
He laughed at my ready association of loss with money,
and replied no, in talent and vigor. Not at once,
following out his illusion, I considered for a moment, has
it sustained the loss of that kind? Said I? I
was not aware of it. Understand me, mister Samson. I
don't imagine that you have retired. It's not so bad
as that. But mister Meltham, oh to be sure, said I. Yes,
mister Meltham, the young actuary of the inestimable. Just so,
he returned in a concerning way. He's a great loss.
He was at once the most profound, the most original,
and the most energetic man I have ever known, connected
with life assurance. I spoke strongly, for I had a
high esteem and admiration for Malcolm, and my gentleman had
indefinitely conveyed to me some suspicion that he wanted to
sneer at him. He recalled me to my guard by
presenting that trim pathway up his head with its infernal
not on the grass. If you pleased to gravel. You
knew mister Slington only by reputation. To have known him
as an acquaintance or as a friend is an honor
I should have sought if he had remained in society,
though I might never have had the good fortune to
attain it. Be a man of far inferior mark. He
was scarcely about thirty. I suppose about thirty. Ah, he
signed in his former consoling way, What creatures we are
to break up, mister Samson and become incapable of business
at that time of life? Any reason assigned for the
melancholy fact? Humph, thought I as I looked at him.
But I won't go up the track, and I will
go on the grass. What reason have you heard assigned
mister Slington, I asked, point blank, Most likely a false one.
You know what roomor raised, mister Samson. I never repeat
what I hear. It is the only way of bearing
the nails and shaving the head of rumor. But when
you ask me what reason I have heard assigned for
mister Meltham's passing away from among men, it is another
thing I am not gratifying idle gossip. Then I was
told mister Samson, that mister Meltham had relinquished all his
advocations and all its prospects. Dicourse, he was in fact
broken hearted, a disappointed attachment I heard, though it hardly
seems probable in the case of a man so distinguished
and so attractive, attractions and distinctions are no armor against death,
said I, Oh, she died, pray, pardon me. I did
not hear that. That indeed makes me very very sad,
poor mister Malcolm. She died, Ah, dear me, lamentable, lamentable.
I still thought his pity was not quite genuine, and
I still suspected an unaccountable sneer under all this, until
he said, as we were parted like the other knots
of talkers by the announcement of dinner, Mister Samson, you
are surprised to see me so moved on behalf of
a man whom I have never known. I am not
so disinterested as you may suppose. I have suffered, and
recently too, from death myself. I have lost one of
my two charming nieces who were my constant companions. She
died young, barely three and twenty, and even her remaining
sister is far from strong. The world is grave. He
said this with deep feeling, and I feel reproached for
the coldness of my manner. Coldness and distrust have been
engendered in me. I knew from my bad experiences they
were not natural to me, and I often thought how
much I had lost in life losing trustfulness, and how
little I have gained gaining hard caution, the state of
mind being habitual to me. I troubled myself more about
this conversation than I might have troubled myself about a
greater matter. I listened to his talk at dinner and
observed how readily other men responded to it, and with
what graceful instinct he adapted his subjects to the knowledge
and habits of those he talked with, as in talking
with me, he had easily started the subject I might
have supposed to understand best and to be the most
interested in. So in talking with others he guided himself
by the same rule. The company was of varied character,
but he was not at fault that I could discover
with any member of it. He knew just as much
of each man's pursuit as made him agreeable to that
man in reference to it, and just as little as
made it natural in him to seek the modesty for
information when the theme was approached. As he talked and talked,
but really not too much for the rest of us,
seemed to force it upon him. I became quite angry
with myself. I took his face to pieces in my
mind like a watch, and examined it in detail. I
could not say much against any of his features separately,
I could say even less against them when they were
put together. Then is it not monstrous? I asked myself
that because a man happens to part his hair straight
up the middle of his head, I should permit myself
to suspect and even to detest him. I may stop
to remark that this was no proof of my sense.
An observer of men, who finds himself steadily repelled by
some apparent trifling thing in a stranger is right to
give it great weight. It may be the clue to
the whole mystery. A hair or two will show where
the lion is hidden, and a very little key will
open a very heavy door. I took part in the
conversation with him after a time, and be got on
remarkably well. In the drawing room, I asked the host
how long he had known mister Slington. He answered not
many months. He had met him at the house of
a celebrated painter then present, who had known him Bell
when he was traveling with his nieces in Italy for
their help, his plans in life being broken by the
death of one of them. He was reading with the
intention of going back to college as a matter of form,
taking his degree and going into orders. I could not
but argue with myself that here was a true explanation
of his interest in poor Meltholm, and that I had
been almost brutal in my distrust on that simple head.
On the very next day, but one, I was sitting
behind my glass partition as before, when he came into
the outer office as before, the moment I saw him
again without hearing him, I hated him worse than ever.
It was only for a moment that I had this opportunity,
for he waved his tight fitting black glove the instant
I looked at him and came straight in. Mister Samson good,
I presume you see upon your kind permission to intrude
upon you. I don't keep my word in being justified
by business. For my business here, if I may so abuse.
The word is of the slightest nature, I asked. Was
it anything I could assist him in? I thank you. No.
I merely called to inquire outside whether my dilatory friend
had been so false to himself as to be practical
and sensible. But of course he has done nothing. I
gave him your papers with my own hand, and he
was hot upon the intention. But of course he has
done nothing, apart from the general human disinincination to do
anything that ought to be done. I dare say that
is a speciality about assuring one's life. You find it
like will making people are so superstitious and take it
for granted that they will die soon afterwards. Up Here,
if you please, straight up here, mister Samson, neither to
the right nor to the left. I almost fancied I
could hear him breathe those words, as he sat smiling
at me, with that intolerable parting exactly opposite the bridge
of my nose. There is such a feeling sometimes, no doubt,
I replied, But I don't think it obtains to any
great extent. Well, he said, with a shrug and a smile.
I wish some good angel would influence my friend in
the right direction. I rashly promised his mother and sister
in Norfolk to see it done, and he promised them
that he would do it. But I suppose he never will.
He spoke for a minute or two in different topics,
and went away. I had scarcely unlocked the drawers of
my writing table. Next morning when he reappeared, I noticed
he came straight to the door in the glass partition
and did not pause a single moment outside. Can you
spare me two minutes, my dear mister Sampson, by all
means much obliged, laying his hat an umbrella on the table.
I came early not to interrupt you. The fact is
I am taken by surprise in the reference to this
proposal my friend has made. Has he made one? Said I? Yes,
he answered, deliberately, looking at me, and then a bright
idea seemed to strike him. Or he only tells me
he has. Perhaps that may be a new way of
evading the matter. By Jupiter, I never thought of that.
Mister Adam was opening the morning's letters in the outer office.
What is his name, mister Slington, I asked, What is
the name, mister Slington, I asked Beck with. I looked
out at the door and requested mister Adams if there
were a proposal in that name to bring it in.
He had already laid it out of his hand on counter.
It was easily selected from the rest, and he gave
it to me. Alfred beckwith proposal to effect the policy
with us for two thousand pounds, dated yesterday from Middle Temple.
I see missus Slington. Yes, he lives in the same
staircas with me. His door is opposite. I never thought
he would make me his reference, though it seems natural
enough that he would. It seems natural enough that he should,
quite so, mister Sampson, But I never thought of it.
Let me see. He took the printed paper from his pocket.
How am I to answer all these questions according to
the truth, of course? Said I? Oh, of course, he answered,
looking up from the paper with a smile. I meant
there were so many. But you do right to be particular.
It stands to reason that you must be particular. Will
allow me to use your pen and ink certainly, and
your desk certainly. He had been hovering about between his
hat and his umbrella for a place to write. He
now sat down in my chair at my blotting paper,
and instand with a long walk up his head in
an accurate perspective before me, as I stood with my
back to the fire. Before answering each question, he ran
it over aloud and discussed it. How long had he
known mister Alfred Beckwith that he had decalculate by years
upon his fingers, what were his habits? Not difficulty about them?
Temperate in the last degree, and took a little too
much exercise, if any All the answers were satisfactory. When
he had written them all, he looked them over and
finally signed them in a very pretty hand. He supposed
he had now done with the business. I told him
he was not likely to be troubled any further. Should
he lead the papers there if he pleased, much obliged
good morning. I had had one other visitor before him,
not at the office, but at my own home. That
visitor had come to my bedside when it was not
yet daylight, and had been seen by no one else
but my faithful confidential servant. A second reference paper, for
we required always two was sent down into Norfolk and
was duly received back by post. This likewise was satisfactorily answered.
In every respect, our firms were all complied with. We
accepted the proposal, and the premium for one year was paid.
For six or seven months, I saw no more of
mister Slington. He called once at my house when I
was not at home, and he once asked me to
dine with him in the temple, but I was engaged.
His friend's assurance was suffected. In March, late in September
or early in October, I was down at Scarborough for
a breadth of sea air, where I met him on
the beach. It was a hot evening. He came toward
me with his hat in his hand, and there was
a walk I felt so strongly disinclined to take in
perfect order again exactly in front of the bridge of
my nose. He was not alone, but had a young
lady on his arm. She was dressed in moaning and
I looked at her with great interest. She had the
appearance of being extremely delicate, and her face was remarkably
pale and melancholy, but she was very pretty. He introduced
her as his niece, Miss Nina. Are you strolling, mister Samson?
Is it possible you can be idle it? Was possible,
and I was strolling. Shall we stroll together with pleasure?
The young lady walked between us, and we walked on
the cools he sand in the direction of Philly. There
have been wheels here, said mister Slington. And now I
look again, the wheels up a hand carriage. Margaret, my love,
your shadow, without doubt, miss Niner's shadow, I repeated, looking
down on the sand, Not that one. Mister Slington returned, laughing, Maha,
gareat my dear tell mister Sampson. Indeed, said the young lady,
turning to me, there is nothing to tell except that
I constantly see the same invalid old gentleman at all
times wherever I go. I have mentioned it to my uncle,
and he calls the gentleman my shadow. Does he live
in Scarborough? I asked, He is staying here? Do you
live in Scarborough? No, I'm staying here. My uncle has
placed me with a family here for my help, and
your shadow, said I smiling. My shadow, she answered, smiling too,
is like myself, not very robust. I fear for I
lose my shadow sometimes as my shadow loses me at
other times. You both seemed liable to confinement to the house.
I have not seen my shadow for days and days,
but it does oddly happen occasionally that wherever I go
for many days together, this gentleman goes. We have come
together on the most unfrequented nooks on this shore. Is this,
he said I, pointing before us the wheels had swept
down the water's edge, and describing a great loop on
the sand, and turning, bringing the hoop back towards us,
and spinning it out. As it came. Was a hand
carriage drawn by a man. Yes, said miss Nina. This
really is my shadow uncle. As the carriage approached us,
and we approached the carriage, I saw within it an
old man whose head was sunk on his breast, and
who was enveloped in a variety of wrappers. He was
drawn by a very quiet, but very keen looking man
with iron gray hair, and who was slightly lame. They
had passed us when the scarriage stopped, and the old
gentleman within, putting out his arm, called to me by
my name. I went back and was absent from mister
Slington and his niece for about five minutes. When I
rejoined them, missus Slington was the first to speak indeed,
he said to me in a raised voice, before I
came up with him. It is well you have not
been longer, or my niece might have died of curiosity
to know who her shadow is. Mister Samson, an old
East India director, said, I an intimate friend of our
friends at whose I first had the pleasure of meeting you,
A certain major banks. You have heard of him. Never
very rich, miss Diner, but very old and very crippled,
an amiable man, sensible, much interested in you. He has
just been expatiating on the affection that he has observed
to exist between you and your uncle. Mister Slington was
holding his hat again, and he passed his hand up
the street walk as he himself went up it serenely
after me. Mister Samson, he said, tenderly pressing his niece's
arm in his Our affection was always a strong one,
for we have had but few near ties. We have
still fewer now we have associations to bring us together
that are not of this world, Margaret. Dear uncle murmured
the young lady and turned her face aside to hide
her tears. My niece and I had such remembrances and
regrets in common, mister Samson. He feelingly pursued that it
would be strange, indeed, if the relations between us were
cold or indifferent. If I remember a conversation we have
had together, you will understand the reference I make. Cheer up,
dear Margaret, don't droop. Don't droop, my Margaret. I cannot
bear to see you droop. The poor young lady was
very much affected, but controlled herself. His feelings, too, were
very acute. In a word, he found himself under such
a great need of a restorative that he presently went
away to take a bath of sea water, leaving the
young lady and me sitting by a point of rock,
and probably presuming, but that you will say was a
pardonable indulgence in her luxury, that she would praise him
with all her heart. She did poor thing, with all
her confiding heart. She praised him to me for his
care of her dead sister, and for his untiding devotion
in her last illness. The sister had wasted away very slowly,
and wild and terrible fantasies had come over her toward
the end. But he had never been impatient with her
or at a loss, had always been gentle, watchful, and
self possessed. The sister had known him as she had
known him, to the best of men, the kindest of men,
and yet a man of such admirable strength of character
as to be a very tower for the support of
their weak natures while their poor lives endured. I shall
leave him, mister Samson, very soon, said the young lady.
I know my life is drawing to an end, and
when I am gone, I hope he will marry and
be happy. I am sure he has lived single so
long only for my sake and for my poor, poor sisters.
The little hand carriage had made another great loop on
the damp sand and was coming back again, gradually, spinning
out a slim figure of eight half a mile long.
Young lady said, I, looking round, laying my hand upon
her arm, and speaking in a low voice. Time presses
you hear the gentle murmur of that sea. She looked
at me with utmost wonder and alarm, saying, yes, and
you know what a voice is in it when the
storm comes. Yes, you see how quiet and peaceful it
lies before us. And you know what an awful side
of power without pity it might be this very night. Yes,
But if you have never heard or seen it, or
heard of it in its cruelty? Could you believe that
it beats every inanimate thing in its way to pieces
without mercy, and destroys life without remorse. You terrify me
so by these questions. To save you, young lady, To
save you for God's sake, Collect your strength and collect
your firmness. If you were here alone and hinden by
the rising tide on the floor of fifty feet above
your head, you could not be in greater danger than
the danger you are now to be saved from. The
figure in the sand was spun out and straggled off
into a crooked little jerk that ended the cliff very
near us. As I am before Heaven and the judge
of all mankind, your friend and your dear sister's friend,
I solemnly entreat you, miss Nina, without one moment's loss
of time, to come to this gentleman with me. If
the little carriage had been less near to us, I
doubt if I could have got her way. But it
was so near that we were there before she had
recovered the hurry of being urged from the rock. I
had not remained there with her two minutes certainly within five.
I had the inexpressible satisfaction of seeing her from the
point we had sat on, to which I had returned,
half supported and half carried up some rude steps notched
in the cliff by the figure of an active man.
With that figure beside her, I knew she was safe anywhere.
I sat alone in the rock awaiting mister Slington's return.
The twilight was deepening and the shadows were heavy when
he came round the point with his hat hanging at
his button hole, smoothing his wet hair with one of
his hands and picking up the old path with the
other and a pocket comb. My niece not here, mister Sampson,
he said, looking round. Miss Nina seemed to feel a
little chill in the air after the sun was down,
and has gone home. He looked surprised, as though she
were not accustomed to do anything without him, even to
originate so slight a proceeding. I persuaded Miss Niner, I explained, ah,
said he. She is easily persuaded for her good Thank you,
mister Samson. She is better within doors. The bathing place
was further than I thought to say. The truth, Missnner
is very delicate, I observed. He shook his head drew
a deep sigh, very very very You may recollect me
saying so the time that has since intervened has not
strengthened her. The gloomy shadow that fell upon her sister
so early in life seems, in my anxious eyes to
gather over her ever darker, ever darker. Dear Margaret, dear Margaret.
But we must hope. The hand carriage was spinning away
before us at most indecorous space for an invalid vehicle,
and was making most irregular curves upon the sand. Missus Slington,
noticing it after he had put his handkerchief to his eyes, said,
if I may judge from appearances, your friend will be upset.
Mister Samson, it looks probable, certainly, said I. The servant
must be drunk. The servants of old gentlemen will get
drunk sometimes, said I. The major draws very light, mister Samson.
The Major does draw light, said I. By this time
the carriage, much to my relief, was lost in the darkness.
He walked on for a little side by side over
the sand in silence. After a short while, he said,
in a voice still affected by the emotion, that his
niece's state of health had awakened him. Do you stay
here long, mister Samson? Why I know I am going
away to night so soon? But business always holds you
in request. Men like mister Samson are too important to
others to be spared to their own need of relaxation
and enjoyment. I dun't know about that, said I. However,
I am going back to London. To London, I shall
be there too soon after you. I knew that as
well as he did, but I did not tell him
so any more than I told him what defensive weapon
my right hand rested on in my pocket as I
walked by his side, any more than I told him
why I did not walk on the sea side of him.
With the night closing in, we left the beach, and
our ways diverged. We exchanged good night and had parted. Indeed,
when he said, returning, mister Samson, May I ask poor Melton,
whom we spoke of, dead yet not when I last
heard of him, but too broken a man to live
long and hopelessly lost to his old calling. Dear, dear, dear,
said he, with great feeling. Sad, sad, sad. The world
is grave and so went his way. It was not
his fault if the world were not a grave. But
I did not call that observation after him any more
than that I had mentioned those other things just now enumerated.
He went his way, and I went mine with all expedition.
This happened, as I have said, either at the end
of September or beginning of October. The next I saw him,
and the last time was late in November. I had
a very particular engagement to breakfast in the temple. It
was a bitter northeasterly morning, and the sleet and slush
lay inches deep in the streets. I could get no conveyance,
and was soon wet to the knee. But I should
have been true to that appointment, though I had to
wade to it up to my neck in the same impediments.
The appointment took me to the chambers in the temple.
They were at the top of the lonely corner house,
overlooking the river. The name mister Alfred Beckwith was painted
on the outer door. On the door opposite on the
same landing the name mister Julius Slington. The doors of
both sets of chambers stood open, so that anything said
aloud in one set, could be heard in the other.
I had never been in those chambers before. They were dismal, close, unwholesome,
and oppressive. The furniture, originally good and not yet old,
was faded and dirty. The rooms were in great disorder.
There was a strong prevailing smell of opium, brandy and tobacco.
The great and fire irons were flashed all over with
unsightly blotches of rust. And on a sofa by the
fire in the room where breakfast had been prepared, lay
the host, mister beckwith a man with all appearances of
the worst kind of drunkard, very far advanced upon his
shameful way to death. Slington is not come yet, said
this creature, staggering up when I went in. I'll call
him Hulloa, Julius Caesar, Come and drink. As he hoarsely
roared this out, he beat the poker and tongs together
in a mad way, as if that were his usual
manner of summoning his associate. The voice mister Slington was
heard through the clatter from the opposite side of the staircase,
and he came in. He had not expected the pleasure
of meeting me I have seen several artful men brought
to a stag, but I never saw a man so
aghast as he was when his eyes rested on mine.
Julius Caesar cried, beck With staggering between us, Miss Samson,
missed Samson, Julius Caesar, Julius, mister Samson is a friend
of my soul. Julius keeps me piled with liquor morning,
noon and night. Julius is a real benefactor. Julius threw
the tea and coffee out of the window when I
used to have any. Julius empties all the water jugs
of their content and fills them with spirits. Julius winds
me up and keeps me going. Boil the brandy, Julius.
There was a rusty and fury saucepan in the ashes.
The ashes looked like the accumulation of weeks. And beck
With rolling and staggering between us as he were going
to plunge headlong into the fire, got the saucepan out
and tried to force it into Stington's hand. Boil the brandy,
Julius Caesar, come do you usual office? Boil the brandy.
He became so fierce in his gesticulation with the sauceman
that I expected to see him lay open Slington's head
with it. I therefore put out my hand to check him.
He reeled back to the sofa, sat there, panting, shaking,
and red eyed in his rags of a dressing gown,
looking at hers both. I noticed then that there was
nothing to drink on the table but brandy, and nothing
to eat but salted herrings and a heart sickly highly
peppered stew At all events, mister Sampson, said Slington, offering
me the smooth gravel path for the last time. I
thank you for interfering between me and this unfortunate man's violence.
However you came here, mister Sampson, or with whatever motive
you came here, at least, I thank you for that boil.
The brandy, muttered Beckward, without gratifying his to know how
I came there, I said, quietly, how is your niece,
mister Slington. He looked hard at me, and I looked
hard at him. I am sorry to say, mister Sampson,
that my niece has proved treacherous and ungrateful to her
best friend. She left me without a word of notice
or explanation. She was misled, no doubt by some designing rascal.
Perhaps you may have heard of it. I did hear
that she was misled by a designing rascal. In fact,
I have proof of it. Are you sure of that?
Said he quite boil The brandy muttered, beckwith company to breakfast, Julius, Caesar,
do your usual office, provide the usual breakfast, dinner, tea
and supper, boil the brandy. The eyes of Slington looked
from him to me, and he said, after a moment's consideration,
mister Samson, you're a man of the world, and so
am I. I will be plain with you. Oh no,
you won't, said I, shaking my head. I tell you, sir,
I will be plain with you, and I tell you
you will not, said I. I know all about you.
You plain with any one. Nonsense, nonsense, I plainly tell you,
mister Samson. He went on, with a manner almost composed,
that I understand your object. You want to save your
funds and escape from your liabilities. These are old tricks
of the trade. With you off this, gentleman. But you
will not do it, sir, You will not succeed. You
have not an easy adversary to play against. When you
play against me, we shall have to inquire in due
time when and how mister Beckwith fell into his present habits.
With that remark, Sir, I put this poor creature and
his incoherent wanderings of speech aside, and vish you a
good morning and a better case next time. When he
was saying this, Beckwith filled a half pine glass with brandy.
At this moment he threw the brandy at his face
and threw the glass after it. Slington put up his hands,
half blinded with the spirit, and cut with the glass
across the forehead. At the sound of the breakage, a
fourth person came into the room, closing the door and
stood at it. He was a very quiet, but very
keen looking man, with iron gray hair and slightly lame.
Slington pulled out his handkerchief, assuaged the pain in his
sparting eyes, and dabbled the blood on his forehead. He
was a long time about it, and I saw that
in doing of it a tremendous change over him, occasioned
by the change in Beckwith, who ceased to pant and tremble,
sat upright and never took his eyes off him I
never in my life saw a face in which aberance
and determination was so forcibly painted as in Beckwit's. Then
look at me, you villain, said Beckwith, and see me
as I really am. I took these rooms to make
them a trap for you. I came into them as
a drunkard, to date the trap for you. You fell
into the trap, and you will never leave it alive.
On the morning when you last went to see mister
Sampson's office, I had seen him first. Your plot had
been known to both of us all along, and you
have been counterplotted all along. What have you been cajoled
into putting the prize of two thousand pounds in your power?
I was to be done to death with brain, and
Randy not proving quick enough with something quicker. Have I
never seen you when you thought my senses gone, pouring
your little bottle into my glass? Why you, murderer and forger,
Alone here with you in the dead of night, as
I have so often been, I have had my hand
upon the trigger of a pistol twenty times to blow
your brains out. This sudden starting up the thing that
he had supposed to be his imbecile victim into a
determined man with a subtled resolution to hunt him down
and be the death of him, mercilessly expressed from head
to foot, was in the first shock too much for him.
Without any figure of speech, he staggered under it. But
there is no greater mistake than to suppose that a
man who is a calculating criminal is in any phase
of his guilt otherwise than true to himself and perfectly
consistent with his whole character. Such a man commits murder,
and murder is the natural culmination of his course. Such
a man has to outface murder, and will do it
with hardihood and effrontery. It is a sort of fashion
to express surprise that any notorious criminal, having such a
crime upon his conscience can so brave it out. Do
you think that he had it in his conscience at all,
or had a conscience to have it upon he would
ever have committed the crime perfectly consistent with himself, as
I believe all such monsters to be. The Slington recovered
himself and showed a defiance that was sufficiently cold and quiet.
He was white, he was haggard, and he was changed,
but only as a sharper who had played for a
great stake, and had been outwitted and had lost the game.
Listen to me, you villain, said Beckwith, And let every
word you hear me say be a stab in your
wicked heart. When I took these rooms to throw myself
in your way and lead you on the scheme that
I knew my appearance and supposed character and habits would
suggest to such a devil. How did I know that?
Because you were no stranger to me, I knew you
to be the cruel wretch who, for so much money,
had killed one innocent girl while she trusted him implicitly,
and who was by inches killing another Slington took out
a snuff box, took a pinch of snuff and laughed.
But see here, said Beckwith, never looking away, never raising
his voice, never relaxing his face, never unclenching his hand.
See what a dull wolf you have been, after all,
the infatuated drunkard who never drank a fiftieth part of
liquor you plied him with, but poured it away here, there, everywhere,
almost before your eyes, who brought over the fellow you
said to watch him and to ply him by outbidding
you in his bribe before he had been at his
work three days, with whom you have observed no caution yet,
who was so bent on bridding the earth of you
as a wild beast, that he would have defeated you
if you had been ever so prudent. That drunkard, whom
you have many a time left on the floor of
this room, and who has even let you go out
of it alive and undeceived, when you had turned him
over with your foot, has almost as often on the
same night, within an hour, within a few minutes, watched
you awake, had his hand in at your pillow when
you were asleep, turned over your papers, taken samples from
your bottles and packets of powder, changed their contents, rifled
every secret in your life life. He had had another
pinch of snuff in his hand, but had gradually let
a drop from between his fingers to the floor, where
he now smoothed it out with his foot, looking down
at it. The while that drunkard said beckwith, who had
free access to your rooms at all times, that he
might drink the strong drinks that you left in his way,
and be sooner ended holding no more terms with you
that he would hold with a tiger has had his
master key for all your locks, his tests for all
your poisons, his clue to your cipher writing. He can
tell you, as well as you can tell him, how
long it took to complete the deed, What doses there were,
what intervals, What signs of gradual decay upon mind and body?
What distempered fancies were produced, what observable changes, what physical pain?
He can tell you as well as you can tell
tell him. That all this was recorded day by day
as a lesson of experience for future service. He can
tell you better than you can tell him where that
journal is. At this moment, Slington stopped the action of
his foot and looked at Beckwith. No, said the latter,
as if answering a question from him. Not in the
drawer of the writing desk that opens with the spring,
it is not there, and it never will be there again.
Then you are a thief, said Slington, without any change
whatever in the inflexible purpose which it was quite terrific
even to me to contemplate, and from the power of
which I had always felt convinced it was impossible for
this wretch to escape. Beckwith returned, and I am your
niece's shadow too. With an imprecation. Slington put his hand
to his head, tore out some hair, and flung it
to the ground. It was the end of the smooth walk.
He destroyed it in the action, and will soon be
seen that his use for it was past. Beckworth went
on whenever you left here, I left here, although I
understood that you found it necessary to pause in the
completion of that purpose to avert suspicion. Still, I watched
you close with that poor confiding girl. When I had
the diary and I could read it word by word.
It is only about the night before your last visit
to Scarborough. You remember the night you slept with a
small flat while tied to your wrist. I sent to
mister Samson, who was kept out of view. This is
mister Samson's trusty servants standing by the door. We three
saved your niece among us. Slington looked at us all,
took an uncertain step or two from the place where
he had stood, returned to it, and glanced about him
in a very curious way, as one of the meaner
reptiles might looking for a hole to hide in. I
noticed at the same time that a singular change took
place in the figure of the man as if it
collapsed within his clothes, and they consequently became ill, shapen
and ill fitting. You shall know, said Beckwid, for I
hope the knowledge will be bitter and terrible to you.
Why you have been pursued by one man, and why
when the whole interest that mister Sampson represents would have
expended any money in hunting you down, you have been
tracked to death at a single individual's charge. I hear
you have had the name of Melthem on your lips.
Sometimes I saw, in addition to those other changes, a
sudden stoppage came upon his breathing. When you send the
sweet girl whom you murdered, you know with what artfully
made out surroundings and probabilities you sent her to Meltham's
office before taking her abroad to originate the transaction that
doomed her to the grave. It fell to Meltham's lot
to see her and to speak with her. It did
not fall to his lot to save her. Though I
knew he would freely give up his own life to
have done it. He admired her. I would say he
loved her deeply. If I thought it possible that you
could understand the word. When she was sacrificed, he was
thoroughly assured of your guilt. Having lost her, he had
but one object left in life, and that was to
avenge her and destroy you. I saw the villain's nostril
rise and fall convulsively, but I saw no moving at
his mouth. That man meltham Beck, with steadily pursued, was
as absolutely certain that you could never him in this
world if he devoted himself to a destruction with his
utmost fidelity and earnestness, and if he divided the sacred
duty with no other duty in life, as he was
certain that in achieving it he would be a poor
instrument in the hand of Providence, and would do well
before Heaven in striking you out from among living men.
I am that man, and I thank God that I
have done my work. If Slington had been running for
his life from swift footed savages a dozen miles, he
could not have shown more empathetic signs of being oppressed
at heart and laboring for breath than he showed now
when he looked at the pursuer who had so relentlessly
hunted him down. You never saw me under my right
name before you see me under my right name. Now
you shall see me once again in the body, when
you are tried for your life. You shall see me
once again in the spirit, when the cord is around
your neck and the crowds are crying against you. When
Maltam had spoken these last words, the miscreen suddenly turned
his face away and seemed to strike his mouth with
his open hand. At the same instant, the room was
filled with a new and powerful odor, and almost at
the same time he broke into a crooked run, leap start.
I have no name for the spasm, and fell with
a dull weight that shook the heavy old doors and
windows in their frames. That was a fitting end of him.
When we saw that he was dead, we drew away
from the room, and Melton, giving me his hands, said
with a weary air, I have no more work on earth,
my friend, but I shall see her again elsewhere. It
was in vain that I tried to rally him. He
might have saved her. He said he had not saved her,
and he reproached himself. He had lost her, and he
was broken hearted. The purpose that has sustained me over Samson,
and there is nothing now to hold to life. I
am not fit for life. I am weak and spiritless.
I have no hope and no object. My day is done.
In truth, I could hardly have believed that a broken
man who then spoke to me was the man who
had so strongly and so differently impressed me when his
purpose was before him. I used such entries with him
as I could, But he still said, and always said,
in a patient, undemonstrative way, nothing could avail him. He
was broken hearted. He died early in the next spring.
He was buried by the side of the poor young
lady for whom he had cherished those tender and unhappy regrets,
and he left all he had to his sister. She
lived to be a happy wife and mother. She married
my sister's son, who succeeded poor Malcolm. She is living now,
and her children ride about the garden on my walking
stick when I go to see her and off. Hunted
down by Charles Dickens