THE HOUSE OF WHITE SHADOWS

Globe, Volume XXIV, Issue 2715, 21 December 1882, Page 4

THE HOUSE OF WHITE SHADOWS

BY B. L. FARJEON. Author of " Blades-o'-Grass," " Joshua Marvel," " Bread and Cheese and Kisses," " Grif," " London's Heart," &c, &c. • {Continued.) Chapter X. A LETTER, FROM JOHN VANBKUGH. For a little 'while Gautran scarcely comprehended that he was at liberty to wander forth. He had so completely given himself up for lost that he was stupefied by the announcement that his liberty was restored to him. He gazed vacantly before him, and presently, recovering himself somewhat, watched the warders warily, fearing, when they fell from his side, that they were setting a trap which would prove his destruction. Meanwhile the Advocate was compelled to listen to the expressions of astonishment and admiration at the skill he had displayed and the victory he had won. He paid but little heed to his admirers; the battle "was over; his interest in it was at an end. As he was about to leave the Court an officer presented himself, and said —" He wishes to speak to you, sir." " "Who ?" asked the Advocate. " The prisoner, sir." The Advocate walked towards Gautran, and for the first time during the long days of the trial gazed directly into the man's face. The magnetism in the Advocate's eyes arrested Gautran's speech, and he appeared to forget what he intended to say. They looked at each other in silence tor a few moments, the expression of the face of the Advocate cold, keen and searching; that on the face of Gautran as of a man entranced; and then the Advocate turned sternly away, without a word having been spoken between them. When Gautran looked again for his defender, the Advocate was gone. Gautran still lingered; the Court was nearly empty. " Be off," said a gaoler, " we have done with you for the present."

But Gautran made no effort to leave. The gaoler laid_ his. hands upon the ruffian's shoulder, -with the purpose of expelling him from the Court. Gautran shook him off with the snarl of a wild beast.

" Touch me," he cried, " and I'll strangle you ! Give me my property." They laughed at his threat, and inquired what property. " The knife," replied Gautran, " you took from me when you dragged me to prison. Give it to me. I don't move without it." They thought it best to give it to him. It was an old knife with a stout handle, and it opened and closed with a sharp click. Gautran tried it three or four times, and, with morose glances at the gaolers, slunk from the Court.

The Advocate's carriage was at the door, ready to convey him to his villa. He dismissed the coachman, saying he intended to walk home. As the carriage drove off, a person plucked him by the sleeve, and pressed a letter into his hand. It was dusk, and the Advocate, although he looked sharply around, could not discover the giver. His sight was short and strong, and by the light of a street lamp he opened and read the ietter:

" Will you allow me to see you, to speak with you 'i I know the House of White Shadows in Petit Sarconnex, and if you are not unwilling to receive me you can express your consent by waving a white handkerchief from your study window at any time to-night. I shall wait till sunrise for the signal. H you are too busy to-night, let it be to-morrow night, or the next, or any night this week. —John Vanbruoh." The Advocate placed the letter in his pocket, and murmured as he walked through the streets of Geneva : " John Vanbrugh, has he risen from his grave ?" Chapter XI. A STARTLING INTERRUPTION. The news of the acquittal of Gautran spread swiftly through the town, and the people gathered in front of the cafes, and lingered in the street, to gaze upon the celebrated Advocate who had worked the marvel. "He has a face like the Sphynx," said one.

" Do you believe Gautran was innocent ?" asked another.

"He made it appear so; but if Gautran did not murder the girl, who did ?" " It is my opinion," said an oracle, "that he has set a murderer loose. We shall have to take care of ourselves on dark nights." " Would you condemn a man without sufficient evidence f" asked a rival of the oracle.

" I would condemn Gautran," replied the oracle, " on any evidence. When you want to get rid of vermin, do you wait for ovidence ?" " The law must be respected." " Life must be protected," retorted tho oracle, " that is the first law." Strong feeling was beginning to bo evinced in the result of the trial, and without reference to Gautran—for it really seemed as if the Advocate were the principal party concerned—-opinion was pretty equally divided. Even in the inn of the Seven Liars, to which Fritz the fool —who had attended the Court every day of tho trial, and who had the fleetest foot of any man for a dozen miles around —had already conveyed the news of Gautran's acquittal, the discussion was long and animated; the women regarding the acquittal as an outrage upon their sex, the men more disposed to put Gautran out of the question entirely, and to yield a full measure of admiration to tho Advocate for the victory he had gained. " Did I not toll you," said Fritz, "that he could turn black into white. A great man! a great man ! If we had more like him murdering would be a good trade." There were, doubtless, among those who

thronged the streets to see tho Advocate pass, some sinners whose consciences tormented them, and who secretly hoped, it' exposure ever overtook them, that Heaven would send them such a defender. His reception, indeed, partook of the character of an ovation. These tributes to his powers made no outward impression upon him; he pursued his way steadily onward, looking neither to "the right nor to the left, until tho gaily-lighted shops and cafes of Goncva were far behind him. In tho surprise of the letter he had received, he lost sight of the trial in which he had been engaged, and of the herculean labor of the last eight days; his thoughts were upon John Vanbrugh, who had been of his boy friends, and whom for many years he had believed to be dead. In his lonely walk to Petit Sarconnex he recalled the image of Vanbrugh, and dwelt more with curiosity than affection upon the recollection of their young lives. He had but little desire to see Vanbrugh, and none to renew a friendship which, during its existence, had been lacking in the sterling qualities necessary for endurance. That it was pleasant while it lasted was the best that conld be said of it. When he and Vanbrugh grew to manhood there was a wide divergence in their paths of life. One walked with firm, courageous feet, the road which leads to honor and renown, sparing no labor, throwing aside seductive temptation when it presented itself to him, as it did in its most alluring forms, giving all the might of his mind and body to the cause to which he had devoted himself, studying by day and night so earnestly that, spurred on by ambition, his bright and strong intellect became clearer and stronger, and he could scarcely miss success. The other threw himself upon pleasure's tide, and, blind to earnest duty, drank the sunshine of life's spring in draughts so intemperate that he became intoxicated with poisonous fire, and, falling into the arms of the knaves who thrive on human weakness and depravity, his moral sense, like theirs, grew warped, and he ripened into a knave himself. Something of this, but not in its fulness, had reached the Advocate's ears, making but small impression upon him, and exciting no surprise, for by that time his judgment was matured, and human character was an open book to him; and when, some little time afterwards, he casually heard that John Vanbrugh was dead, he said, "It is well for him ;he is better dead;" and scarcely gave his once friend another thought. He walked slowly, with a calm enjoyment of the solitude and the quiet night, and presently entered a narrow lane, dotted with orchards. It was now dark, and he could not see a dozen yards before him. He was fond of darkness; it contained mysterious possibilities, he had been heard to say. There was an ineffable charm in the stillness which surrounded him, and he enjoyed it to its full. There were cottages here and there, lying back from the road, but no light or movement in them; the inmates were asleep. Soft sighs proceeded from the drowsy trees, and slender boughs waved solemnly, while the only sound from the farmyards was, at long intervals, a muffled shaking of wings, caused by the barking of a dog whom his footsteps had roused. As he passed a high wooden gate, through the bars of which ho could dimly discern a line of tall trees, standing like sentinels of the night, the perfume of limes was wafted towards him, and his lips softly breathed the words, " my wife !" the thought was sufficient; he yielded up his senses to the thraldom of a delicious langour, in which the only image was that of the fair and beautiful woman who was waiting for him in their holiday home. Had any person seen the tender light in his eyes, and heard the tone in which the words were uttered, he could not have doubted that tlie woman they referred to was passionately adored. Not for long was !he permitted to muse upon the image of a being the mere thought of whom appeared to transform a passionless man into an ardent lover; a harsher interruption than that of sweet perfume floating on a breeze recalled him to his sterner self. " Stop!" " For what reason ? " j "The best. Money!"

The summons proceeded from one in whom, as his voice betrayed, the worst passions were dominant.

Chapter XII. gatjtran's confession

There lived not in the world a man more fearless than the Advocate. At this threatening demand he exhibited as little trepidation as he would have done at an acquaintance asking him in broad daylight for a pinch of snuff. Indeed ho was so thoroughly unembarrassed that his voice assumed an airiness distinctly foreign to its usual serious tones. " Money, my friend! how much ?" " All you've got." " Terse, and to the point. If I refuse ?" "I am desperate. Look to yourself." For some reason the Advocate threw into his voice a certain airiness which he seldom adopted, and which distinctly altered his character. "This is a serious business, then." " You'll find it so if you trifle with nie." " There is, perhaps," continued the Advocate, unmoved, "a less superficial cause for it than the probability—forgive me for mentioning it —of your being a thief. It may chance that appearances are against you, and that you are an honest man." "I am." " Plunged, through no fault of your own, into poverty and privation." "You hit the nail, master."

" Are you hungry?"

" I am starving." "You have —don't be in a hurry, my friend; there are hours of darkness before us, and there is no fear of our being disturbed on this lonely road —you have a powerful voice for a starving man." "Don't play with me much longer, master. I mean to have what I ask for." " How can you if I do not possess it ? How will you if, possessing it, I refuse to give it to you ?" The reply was a crashing blow at an overhanging branch, which broke it to the ground. It was evident that the man carried a stout weapon, and that he meant to use it with murderous effect if driven to extremes. They spoke at arm's length ; neither was quite within the other's grasp. " A strong argument," said, the Advocate, without blenching, " and a savage one; but scoundrels would run less risk of the gaol if their proceedings were logical. Are you sure that I shall suit your pux-pose ?" " The chances are in my favor. Be quick ; I'll wait no longer."

" Another moment, I beg. I may be, like yourself, a poor man plunged into the depths." " You are not. Your voice is.too gay for that." " Or," continued the Advocate, secretly taking a box of matches from his pocket, "like yourself, not only a thief, but a would-be murderer ! "

As the last word passed his lips he flung a lighted match into the man's face, and, for a moment, the glare revealed the ruffian's features. He staggered back, repeating the word " murderer! "in a hoarse, startled whisper. The Advocate strode swiftly to his side, and striking another match, held it up to his own face. " Look at me, Gautran," he said. The man looked up, and recognising the Advocate, recoiled, muttering, " Aye, aye— I see who it is." " And you would rob me, wretch ! " "* Not now, master, not now. I did not know who it was. Yonr voice—it was the voice of another man. I crave your pardon, humbly." " So, —You soon get to work again, Gautran. One would have thought you would have preferred a rest after your late fever. Have you not had enough of the gaol ?" " More than enough." " It must have been a pleasant experience, nevertheless, for you to court it so soon again. It can scarcely be an hour since you were set free, and the yearning for the coll and the chain is upon you in full force. There is more madness than method in the proceeding; but take this to heart, Gautran —every man, mad or sane, is accountable for his acts."

" I don't half understand what you say, master; but perhaps you'll have the goodness to tell me what a poor devil is to do whose pockets aro as empty as his belly Y" " You are a dull-witted knave, or you would be aware it is useless to lie to me. Gautran, I can read your soul. You wished to speak to me in the Court. Say what you had to say." " Give me breathing time, master. You've the knack of driving the thoughts clean out of a man's head. Have you got a bite of something about you that a poor fellow can chew —the end of a cigar or a nip of tobacco ? They sent me from the prison without a meal; would not oven give me a loaf." "1 have nothing about me but money, which you can't chew, and should not have it if you could. Let me toll you, my friend. When you said you were starving you lied to me, and I know it." "HowP"

" Fool! Are there not fruit trees here, laden with wholesome food, within any thief's grasp ? Your pockets at this moment are filled with fruit. You wore eating when you first demanded money of mo." " You have a gift," said Gautran, with a cringing movement of his body. " You must have bought it of the devil. It would be an act of charity to put me in the way of it."

" What would you purchase ? " asked the Advocate, ironically. " Gold, for wine, and women, and fine clothes P" " Aye,, master," replied Gautran, with eager voice.

"Power to crush those you hate, and make them smart and bleed ?" " Aye, master, aye." " Friend Gautran, these things are precious, and have their price. What are you willing to pay for them ?" " Anything—anything but money !"

" Something of less worth —your soul ?" Gautran shuddered, and crossed himself. •'No, no," he muttered, "not that —not that! "

" Strange," said the Advocate, with a contemptuous smile, " the value we place on an unknown quantity ! Wo cannot bargain, friend. Say now what you desire to say, and as briefly as possible." But it was some time before Gautran could sufficiently recover himself to speak with composure.

" I want to know," he said, at length, with a curious clicking in his throat, "whether you've been paid for what you did for me ? "

" At your trial ?" " Aye, master." " I have not been paid for what I did for

you." " When they told mo down there," said Gautran, after another pause, pointing in the direction of Geneva where the prison lay, " that you were to appear for me, they said I might thank my lucky stars, for I'd got tho cleverest man in all Europe on my side."

" On your side," repeated the Advocate, with a slight frown, which quickly disappeared. " Well, strictly speaking, it may be put that way. But for you, there would have been no battle to fight." " They asked me how I managed it, but I couldn't tell them, and I'm beating my head now to find out why you did it. There must bo a reason."

" You strike a key-note, my friend." " Has some one promised to pay you ?" " No one has promised to pay me." "You puzzle and confuse me, master. You're a stranger in Geneva, I'm told." " It is true."

" I've lived about here nearly all my life; I was born in Sierre; my father worked in the foundry, my mother in the fields. You are not a stranger in Sierre." "lam a stranger there; I never visited the town."

"My father was born in Martigny. You knew my father." " I did not know your father." "My mother— her father owned a vineyard. You knew her." " I did not know her "

Once more Gautran was silent. What he desired now to say raised up images so terrifying that he had not the courage to give it immediate utterance. " You are in shadow, my friend," said the Advocate, " but I percive you are ill at ease. Shall I divine what is in your mind ?" " You can do that!" " It is not unlikely."

" Tell me, then." " You wish to know if I was acquainted with the unhappy girl with whose murder you were charged." " Is there another man in the world like you ?" asked Gautran, with a kind of fear in his voice. "It is what I want to know." " I was not acquainted with her." Gautran retreated a step or two in positive terror. " Then what," he cried, "in the devil's name made you come forward ?"

"At length/' said the Advocate, "we have arrived at a point in our conversation —a strange one, at a strange time, my friend —which it is worth while employing a few minutes to consider. I thank you for the opportunity you afford me of questioning my inner self. What in the devil's name made me come forward to the assistance of such a scoundrel ? Humanity ? No. Compassion? No. Sympathy? No. What, then, was my motive ? Shall I say I was prompted by a desire to assist the courso of justice—or by a contemptible feeling of vanity to engage in a contest for the simple purpose of proving myself the victor ? It was something of both, mayhap. _ Do you know, Gautran, a kind of self-de3pisal stirs within me at the present moment? You do not understand me ? I will give you a closer illustration. You are a thief."

" Yes, master." (To be continued on Tuesday.)