Chapter XXII

I SEND DEVLIN'S DESK TO MY WIFE, AND SMOKE A FRAGRANT CIGAR.

"This foolish, headstrong lad will be the death of me," said Mr. Dowsett in a fretful tone, "and of himself as well."

"I am neither foolish nor headstrong," retorted the unhappy young man. "I told you he was in there still, and you told me he had left the house."

"I said it for your good," said Mr. Dowsett, "but you will not be ruled."

"No, I will not!" exclaimed George Carton violently; and then said remorsefully, "I beg you to forgive me for speaking so wildly; it is the height of ingratitude after all your goodness to me. But do you not see--for God's sake, do you not see--that you are making things worse instead of better for me by opposing me as you are doing? I will have my way! I will, whether I am right or wrong!"

"My poor boy," said Mr. Dowsett, addressing me, "has got it into his foolish head that you can be of some assistance to him. In heaven's name, how can you be?"

"Mr. Dowsett," I said, and the strange experiences of the last few hours imported, I felt, a solemnity into my voice, "the ends of justice are sometimes reached by roads we cannot see. It may be so in this sad instance."

"There," said George Carton to his guardian, in a tone of melancholy triumph, "did I not tell you?"

Mr. Dowsett shrugged his shoulders impatiently, and said, "I declare that if I did not love my ward with a love as sincere and perfect as any human being ever felt for another, I would wash my hands of this business altogether."

"But why," said Carton, with much affection, "do you torment yourself about it at all?"

"It is you I torment myself about," said Mr. Dowsett, "not the horrible deed. I love you with a father's love, and I cannot leave you in the state you are."

George Carton put his arm around his guardian caressingly. "I am not worth it," he murmured; "I am not worth it; but I cannot act otherwise than I do. Sir"--to me--"I have lingered here in the hope that you might have some news to tell me."

"I have nothing I can communicate to you," I said; "but rest assured that my interest in the discovery of the murderer is scarcely less than yours. I have taken up the search, and I will not rest while there is the shadow of a hope left."

"I knew it, I knew it," said George Carton.

"Knowing it, then," I said, "and receiving the assurance from my lips, will you do me a service, and be guided by my advice?"

"I will, indeed I will," replied Carton.

"It is heartbreaking," said Mr. Dowsett mournfully, turning his head, "to find a stranger's counsel preferred to mine."

"No, no," cried George Carton, "I declare to you, no! But you would have me do nothing, and I cannot obey you. I cannot--I cannot sit idly down, and make no effort in the cause of justice. My dear Lizzie is dead, and I do not care to live. But I will live for one thing--revenge!"

"Be calm," I said, taking the young man's fevered hand, "and listen to me. I wish you to take this letter and desk to my wife, and deliver them to her with your own hands. Will you do so?"

"Yes."

"You must not part with them under any pretext or persuasion until you place them in my wife's possession."

"No one shall touch them till she receives them."

"You must go at once, for she is anxious about me. I intend to sleep here to-night. And when you have done what I ask you, I beg you to go home with your guardian, and have a good night's rest."

He looked discontented at this, but Mr. Dowsett said, "Be persuaded, George, be persuaded!"

"Believe me," I said, speaking very earnestly, "that it will be for the best."

"Very well, sir. I will do as you desire. But"--turning to Mr. Dowsett--"no opiates. If sleep comes to me, it shall come naturally."

"I promise you, George," said Mr. Dowsett; "and now let us go. Thank you, sir, thank you a thousand times, for having prevailed upon my ward to do what is right. Come, George, come."

He was so anxious to get the young man away that he advanced a few steps quickly; thus for two or three moments Carton and I were alone.

"Shall I see you to-morrow, sir," asked Carton.

"In all probability," I replied; "but do not seek me here. I have your address, and will either call upon or write to you."

"Then I am to remain home all day?"

"Yes. By following my instructions you will be rendering me practical assistance."

"Very well, sir. I put all my trust in you."

"Are you coming, George?" cried Mr. Dowsett, looking back.

"Yes, I am ready," said the young man, joining his guardian; and presently they were both out of sight.

I reëntered the house. Fanny Lemon was still in the passage.

"Fanny," I said, "I cannot keep long with you, as I have business up-stairs with Mr. Devlin; but I wish to impress upon you not to speak to a single soul of what has passed between us to-day. Say nothing to anybody about Mr. Lemon being ill, and, above all, do not call in a doctor. Doctors are apt to be inquisitive, and it is of the highest importance that curiosity shall not be aroused in the minds of the neighbours. There is nothing radically wrong with Lemon; he has received a fright, and his nerves are shaken, that is all. Tell him that I have taken his place with Devlin, and that the partnership is at an end. That will relieve his mind. Keep him quiet, and give him nothing to drink but milk or barley water. Lower his system, Fanny, lower his system."

"Don't you think it low enough already, sir?" asked Fanny.

"I do not; he is in a state of dangerous excitement, and everything must be done to soothe and quiet him. But I have no more time to waste. You will do as I have told you?"

"Yes, sir, I'll be careful to. But are you sure he don't want a doctor? Are you sure he won't die?"

"Quite sure; and you can tell him, if you like, that _I_ say it is all right."

"_Is_ it all right, sir?"

"If it isn't, I'm going to try to make it so. I shall sleep here to-night, Fanny."

"And welcome, sir. We haven't a spare bedroom, but I can make you up a bed on the sofa in the parlour."

"I shall not need it. I am going to sleep in Devlin's room, on the floor."

She caught my arm with a cry of alarm. "Has he got hold of you, too, sir? The Lord save us! He's got the lot of us in his claws!"

"Don't be absurd," I said. "I know what I'm about, and Mr. Devlin will find me a match for him. No more questions; do as you are bid. If you have a mattress and some bedclothes to spare, bring them up at once."

"I won't look at him, sir--I won't speak to him! O, how shall I ever forgive myself--how shall I ever forgive myself?"

She threw her apron (which during my absence she had put on over her faded black silk dress) over her head, and swayed to and fro in the passage, moaning and groaning in great distress of mind.

I pulled the apron from her face, and gave her a good shaking by way of corrective. She ceased her moans.

"I have no patience with you, Fanny," I exclaimed. "In heaven's name, what do you want to be forgiven for?"

"For dragging you into this horrible business, sir," she said, with a tendency to relapse, which I immediately checked by another shaking. "That--that devil up-stairs----"

This time I shook her so soundly that she could not get out another word for the chattering of her teeth.

"No more, Fanny," I said roughly, "or you will make me angry. I know what I am about, and if you don't stop instantly and do exactly as I bid you, I'll leave you and your Lemon to your fate. Do you hear?"

The threat terrified her into calmness.

"I'll bring up the bed-things, sir," she said, with bated breath.

"And lose no time," I said, as I mounted the stairs.

"I won't, sir."

Devlin was smoking when I joined him, and not smoking a pipe, but a cigar with a most delicious fragrance.

"Take one," he said, pushing a cigar-case over to me; "you will find them good. I manufactured them while you were away."

I bore good-humouredly with his banter, and I took a cigar from the case, but did not immediately light it.

"Sent your letter?" he inquired curtly.

"Yes."

"And my desk?"

"Yes."

"By Lizzie Melladew's sweetheart?"

"Yes."

"Not by the other?"

"No."

"Do they live together?"

"Yes."

"Do you know where?"

"Yes."

"Capital!" he said, with the air of a man who had been asking important instead of trivial questions. "There is a knock at the door--a frightened, feminine knock. Enter, my dear Mrs. Lemon, enter."

Fanny Lemon came in, smothered with a mattress, sheets, blankets, and pillows, and, without uttering a word, proceeded to make the bed on the floor.

"You have brought plenty of pillows, Fanny," I remarked.

"I thought you'd like to lay high, sir," she whispered.

Devlin broke out into a loud laugh. "Most people do," he said, "while they live. When they die they all lie low--all of them, all of them!"

For a moment I thought that Fanny was going to run away, but a look from me restrained her, and she finished making the bed.

"Do you wish anything else, sir?" she asked, still in a whisper, and keeping her back to Devlin.

"Yes, my charming landlady, yes," replied Devlin, "A large pot of your exquisite tea. Fly!"

"Make it, Fanny, and bring it up," I said.

She flew, and returned with the steaming pot. Surely never was tea so quickly prepared before. The pot, milk, sugar, and two cups and saucers were on a tray, which, without raising her eyes, she placed before me.

"Here, here," cried Devlin, tapping the table. "Before _me_, my dear creature! _I_ am the host on this occasion."

She slid the tray over to him, and he made a motion as if he were about to place his hand on her.

"If you lay a finger on me," she exclaimed, beating a hasty retreat from the table, "I'll scream the house down!"

"Leave the room," I said sternly; "and call us at seven in the morning."

"We shall be here, my dear creature," added Devlin. "You will find both of us safe and sound, ready to do justice to your excellent cooking. I have a premonition of a fine appetite for breakfast; cook me an extra rasher."

I saw in Fanny's eyes a desire to say a word to me alone. Devlin saw it too.

"Humour her," he said, and quoted a line from a comedy. "What is the use of a friend if you can't make a stranger of him?"

I followed Fanny into the passage.

"You've quite made up your mind, sir?"

"Quite, Fanny."

"Take this, sir," she said, pushing a hard substance into my hands. "If anything happens in the night, spring it."

It was a policeman's rattle.

"I don't know where Lemon got it from," she said, "but we've had it in the house for years."

"Pshaw, Fanny!" I said, forcing the rattle back into her hands. "You are too ridiculous!"

Yet when I was once again face to face with Devlin, with the door locked, I could not help thinking that I was acting a perilous part in putting myself, as it were, into his power. He might kill me while I slept. I determined to keep awake, and to lie down in my clothes.

"Have some tea?" he asked.

"Thank you," I replied. The tea would assist me in my resolve not to sleep.

The teapot being emptied, I lit the cigar Devlin had given me.

"I owe you an explanation," he said, puffing the smoke from his cigar into a series of circles. "I take it as a fact that Lemon is suffering from some kind of prophetic vision in connection with the murder of Lizzie Melladew in Victoria Park on Friday night."

"It is so," I said.

"Part of my explanation lies in the admission that he received that forewarning from me."

"Then you knew it was done," I cried.

"I did not know it. It passed through the mind of a customer whose hair I was dressing. I do not call that knowing a thing. I am something of a thought-reader, my dear sir, and I possess a certain power, under suitable conditions, of conveying my impressions to another person. That is the extent of my explanation. Excuse me for making it so brief."

Never in my life had I smoked a cigar with a fragrance so exquisite. Not only exquisite, but overpowering. It beguiled my senses, and had such an effect upon me that the last twenty or thirty words uttered by Devlin seemed to be spoken at a great distance from me. This sense of distance affected not only his voice, but himself and all surrounding things. He and they seemed to recede into space, as it were, not bounded by the walls of the small apartment in which we were sitting. I had a dim desire to continue the conversation, and to press Devlin to be more explicit, but it died away. Everything floated in a mist around me, and in this state I fell asleep.