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CHAPTER III.
ALTHOUGH the events that I am now relating happened many years
ago, I shall still, for caution's sake, avoid mentioning by name
the various places visited by Mr. Dark and myself for the purpose
of making inquiries. It will be enough if I describe generally
what we did, and if I mention in substance only the result at
which we ultimately arrived.
On reaching Glasgow, Mr. Dark turned the whole case over in his
mind once more. The result was that he altered his original
intention of going straight to the north of Scotland, considering
it safer to make sure, if possible, of the course the yacht had
taken in her cruise along the western coast.
The carrying out of this new resolution involved the necessity of
delaying our onward journey by perpetually diverging from the
direct road. Three times we were sent uselessly to wild places in
the Hebrides by false reports. Twice we wandered away inland,
following gentlemen who answered generally to the description of
Mr. James Smith, but who turned out to be the wrong men as soon
as we set eyes on them. These vain excursions--especially the
three to the western islands--consumed time terribly. It was more
than two months from the day when we had left Darrock Hall before
we found ourselves up at the very top of Scotland at last,
driving into a considerable sea-side town, with a harbor attached
to it. Thus far our journey had led to no results, and I began to
despair of success. As for Mr. Dark, he never got to the end of
his sweet temper and his wonderful patience.
"You don't know how to wait, William," was his constant remark
whenever he heard me complaining. "I do."
We drove into the town toward evening in a modest little gig, and
put up, according to our usual custom, at one of the inferior
inns.
"We must begin at the bottom," Mr. Dark used to say. "High
company in a coffee-room won't be familiar with us; low company
in a tap-room will." And he certainly proved the truth of his own
words. The like of him for making intimate friends of total
strangers at the shortest notice I have never met with before or
since. Cautious as the Scotch are, Mr. Dark seemed to have the
knack of twisting them round his finger as he pleased. He varied
his way artfully with different men, but there were three
standing opinions of his which he made a point of expressing in
all varieties of company while we were in Scotland. In the first
place, he thought the view of Edinburgh from Arthur's Seat the
finest in the world. In the second place, he considered whisky to
be the most wholesome spirit in the world. In the third place, he
believed his late beloved mother to be the best woman in the
world. It may be worthy of note that, whenever he expressed this
last opinion in Scotland, he invariably added that her maiden
name was Macleod.
Well, we put up at a modest little inn near the harbor. I was
dead tired with the journey, and lay down on my bed to get some
rest. Mr. Dark, whom nothing ever fatigued, left me to take his
toddy and pipe among the company in the taproom.
I don't know how long I had been asleep when I was roused by a
shake on my shoulder. The room was pitch dark, and I felt a hand
suddenly clapped over my mouth. Then a strong smell of whisky and
tobacco saluted my nostrils, and a whisper stole into my ear--
"William, we have got to the end of our journey."
"Mr. Dark," I stammered out, "is that you? What, in Heaven's
name, do you mean?"
"The yacht put in here," was the answer, still in a whisper, "and
your blackguard of a master came ashore--"
"Oh, Mr. Dark," I broke in, "don't tell me that the letter is
true!"
"Every word of it," says he. "He was married here, and was off
again to the Mediterranean with Number Two a good three weeks
before we left your mistress's house. Hush! don't say a word, Go
to sleep again, or strike a light, if you like it better. Do
anything but come downstairs with me. I'm going to find out all
the particulars without seeming to want to know one of them.
Yours is a very good-looking face, William, but it's so
infernally honest that I can't trust it in the tap-room. I'm
making friends with the Scotchmen already. They know my opinion
of Arthur's Seat; they see what I think of whisky; and I rather
think it won't be long before they hear that my mother's maiden
name was Macleod."
With those words he slipped out of the room, and left me, as he
had found me, in the dark.
I was far too much agitated by what I had heard to think of going
to sleep again, so I struck a light, and tried to amuse myself as
well as I could with an old newspaper that had been stuffed into
my carpet bag. It was then nearly ten o'clock. Two hours later,
when the house shut up, Mr. Dark came back to me again in high
spirits.
"I have got the whole case here," says he, tapping his
forehead--"the whole case, as neat and clean as if it was drawn
in a brief. That master of yours doesn't stick at a trifle,
William. It's my opinion that your mistress and you have not seen
the last of him yet."
We were sleeping that night in a double-bedded room. As soon as
Mr. Dark had secured the door and disposed himself comfortably in
his bed, he entered on a detailed narrative of the particulars
communicated to him in the tap-room. The substance of what he
told me may be related as follows:
The yacht had had a wonderful run all the way to Cape Wrath. On
rounding that headland she had met the wind nearly dead against
her, and had beaten every inch of the way to the sea-port town,
where she had put in to get a supply of provisions, and to wait
for a change in the wind.
Mr. James Smith had gone ashore to look about him, and to see
whether the principal hotel was the sort of house at which he
would like to stop for a few days. In the course of his wandering
about the town, his attention had been attracted to a decent
house, where lodgings were to be let, by the sight of a very
pretty girl sitting at work at the parlor window. He was so
struck by her face that he came back twice to look at it,
determining, the second time, to try if he could not make
acquaintance with her by asking to see the lodgings. He was shown
the rooms by the girl's mother, a very respectable woman, whom he
discovered to be the wife of the master and part owner of a small
coasting ves sel, then away at sea. With a little maneuvering he
managed to get into the parlor where the daughter was at work,
and to exchange a few words with her. Her voice and manner
completed the attraction of her face. Mr. James Smith decided, in
his headlong way, that he was violently in love with her, and,
without hesitating another instant, he took the lodgings on the
spot for a month certain.
It is unnecessary to say that his designs on the girl were of the
most disgraceful kind, and that he represented himself to the
mother and daughter as a single man. Helped by his advantages of
money, position, and personal appearance, he had made sure that
the ruin of the girl might be effected with very little
difficulty; but he soon found that he had undertaken no easy
conquest.
The mother's watchfulness never slept, and the daughter's
presence of mind never failed her. She admired Mr. James Smith's
tall figure and splendid whiskers; she showed the most
encouraging partiality for his society; she smiled at his
compliments, and blushed whenever he looked at her; but, whether
it was cunning or whether it was innocence, she seemed incapable
of understanding that his advances toward her were of any other
than an honorable kind. At the slightest approach to undue
familiarity, she drew back with a kind of contemptuous surprise
in her face, which utterly perplexed Mr. James Smith. He had not
calculated on that sort of resistance, and he could not see his
way to overcoming it. The weeks passed; the month for which he
had taken the lodgings expired. Time had strengthened the girl's
hold on him till his admiration for her amounted to downright
infatuation, and he had not advanced one step yet toward the
fulfillment of the vicious purpose with which he had entered the
house.
At this time he must have made some fresh attempt on the girl's
virtue, which produced: a coolness between them; for, instead of
taking the lodgings for another term, he removed to his yacht, in
the harbor, and slept on board for two nights.
The wind was now fair, and the stores were on board, but he gave
no orders to the sailing-master to weigh anchor. On the third
day, the cause of the coolness, whatever it was, appears to have
been removed, and he returned to his lodgings on shore. Some of
the more inquisitive among the townspeople observed soon
afterward, when they met him in the street, that he looked rather
anxious and uneasy. The conclusion had probably forced itself
upon his mind, by this time, that he must decide on pursuing one
of two courses: either he must resolve to make the sacrifice of
leaving the girl altogether, or he must commit the villainy of
marrying her.
Scoundrel as he was, he hesitated at encountering the
risk--perhaps, also, at being guilty of the crime--involved in
this last alternative. While he was still in doubt, the father's
coasting vessel sailed into the harbor, and the father's presence
on the scene decided him at last. How this new influence acted it
was impossible to find out from the imperfect evidence of persons
who were not admitted to the family councils. The fact, however,
was certain that the date of the father's return and the date of
Mr. James Smith's first wicked resolution to marry the girl might
both be fixed, as nearly as possible, at one and the same time.
Having once made up his mind to the commission of the crime, he
proceeded with all possible coolness and cunning to provide
against the chances of detection.
Returning on board his yacht he announced that he had given up
his intention of cruising to Sweden and that he intended to amuse
himself by a long fishing tour in Scotland. After this
explanation, he ordered the vessel to be laid up in the harbor,
gave the sailing-master leave of absence to return to his family
at Cowes, and paid off the whole of the crew from the mate to the
cabin-boy. By these means he cleared the scene, at one blow, of
the only people in the town who knew of the existence of his
unhappy wife. After that the news of his approaching marriage
might be made public without risk of discovery, his own common
name being of itself a sufficient protection in case the event
was mentioned in the Scotch newspapers. All his friends, even his
wife herself, might read a report of the marriage of Mr. James
Smith without having the slightest suspicion of who the
bridegroom really was.
A fortnight after the paying off of the crew he was married to
the merchant-captain's daughter. The father of the girl was well
known among his fellow-townsmen as a selfish, grasping man, who
was too anxious to secure a rich son-in-law to object to any
proposals for hastening the marriage. He and his wife, and a few
intimate relations had been present at the ceremony; and after it
had been performed the newly-married couple left the town at once
for a honeymoon trip to the Highland lakes.
Two days later, however, they unexpectedly returned, announcing a
complete change in their plans. The bridegroom (thinking,
probably, that he would be safer out of England than in it) had
been pleasing the bride's fancy by his descriptions of the
climate and the scenery of southern parts. The new Mrs. James
Smith was all curosity to see Spain and Italy; and, having often
proved herself an excellent sailor on board her father's vessel,
was anxious to go to the Mediterranean in the easiest way by sea.
Her affectionate husband, having now no other object in life than
to gratify her wishes, had given up the Highland excursion, and
had returned to have his yacht got ready for sea immediately. In
this explanation there was nothing to awaken the suspicions of
the lady's parents. The mother thought Mr. James Smith a model
among bridegrooms. The father lent his assistance to man the
yacht at the shortest notice with as smart a crew as could be
picked up about the town. Principally through his exertions, the
vessel was got ready for sea with extraordinary dispatch. The
sails were bent, the provisions were put on board, and Mr. James
Smith sailed for the Mediterranean with the unfortunate woman who
believed herself to be his wife, before Mr. Dark and myself set
forth to look after him from Darrock Hall.
Such was the true account of my master's infamous conduct in
Scotland as it was related to me. On concluding, Mr. Dark hinted
that he had something still left to tell me, but declared that he
was too sleepy to talk any more that night. As soon as we were
awake the next morning he returned to the subject.
"I didn't finish all I had to say last night, did I?" he began.
You unfortunately told me enough, and more than enough, to prove
the truth of the statement in the anonymous letter," I answered.
"Yes," says Mr. Dark, "but did I tell you who wrote the anonymous
letter?"
"You don't mean to say that you have found that out!" says I.
"I think I have," was the cool answer. "When I heard about your
precious master paying off the regular crew of the yacht I put
the circumstance by in my mind, to be brought out again and
sifted a little as soon as the opportunity offered. It offered in
about half an hour. Says I to the gauger, who was the principal
talker in the room: 'How about those men that Mr. Smith paid off?
Did they all go as soon as they got their money, or did they stop
here till they had spent every farthing of it in the
public-houses?' The gauger laughs. 'No such luck,' says he, in
the broadest possible Scotch (which I translate into English,
William, for your benefit); 'no such luck; they all went south,
to spend their money among finer people than us--all, that is to
say, with one exception. It was thought the steward of the yacht
had gone along with the rest, when, the very day Mr. Smith sailed
for the Mediterranean, who should turn up unexpectedly but the
steward himself! Where he had been hiding, and why he had been
hiding, nobody could tell.' 'Perhaps he had been imitating his
master, and looking out for a wife,' says I. 'Likely enough,'
says the gauger; 'he gave a very confused account of himself, and
he cut all questions short by going away south in a violent
hurry.' That was enough for me: I let the subject drop. Clear as
daylight, isn't it, William? The steward suspected something wrong--the steward waited and
watched--the steward wrote that anonymous letter to your
mistress. We can find him, if we want him, by inquiring at Cowes;
and we can send to the church for legal evidence of the marriage
as soon as we are instructed to do so. All that we have got to do
now is to go back to your mistress, and see what course she means
to take under the circumstances. It's a pretty case, William, so
far--an uncommonly pretty case, as it stands at present."
We returned to Darrock Hall as fast as coaches and post-horses
could carry us.
Having from the first believed that the statement in the
anonymous letter was true, my mistress received the bad news we
brought calmly and resignedly--so far, at least, as outward
appearances went. She astonished and disappointed Mr. Dark by
declining to act in any way on the information that he had
collected for her, and by insisting that the whole affair should
still be buried in the profoundest secrecy. For the first time
since I had known my traveling companion, he became depressed in
spirits on hearing that nothing more was to be done, and,
although he left the Hall with a handsome present, he left it
discontentedly.
"Such a pretty case, William," says he, quite sorrowfully, as we
shook hands--"such an uncommonly pretty case--it's a thousand
pities to stop it, in this way, before it's half over!"
"You don't know what a proud lady and what a delicate lady my
mistress is," I answered. "She would die rather than expose her
forlorn situation in a public court for the sake of punishing her
husband."
"Bless your simple heart!" says Mr. Dark, "do you really think,
now, that such a case as this can be hushed up?"
"Why not," I asked, "if we all keep the secret?"
"That for the secret!" cries Mr. Dark, snapping his fingers.
"Your master will let the cat out of the bag, if nobody else
does."
"My master!" I repeated, in amazement.
"Yes, your master!" says Mr. Dark. "I have had some experience in
my time, and I say you have not seen the last of him yet. Mark my
words, William, Mr. James Smith will come back."
With that prophecy, Mr. Dark fretfully treated himself to a last
pinch of snuff, and departed in dudgeon on his journey back to
his master in London. His last words hung heavily on my mind for
days after he had gone. It was some weeks before I got over a
habit of starting whenever the bell was rung at the front door.
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