Speaker 1: 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.
Speaker 2: 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?
Speaker 1: 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.
Speaker 2: I'll call a.
Speaker 1: 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.
Speaker 2: Ah, that is the question.
Speaker 1: 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.
Speaker 2: What lock of hair?
Speaker 1: 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.
Speaker 2: Whatever is it you have there?
Speaker 1: 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?
Speaker 2: But you look so well?
Speaker 1: 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?
Speaker 2: One?
Speaker 1: 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?
Speaker 2: It's not the least bit like my hair?
Speaker 1: 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.
Speaker 2: I don't know if you.
Speaker 1: 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