The Storyteller.

Waikato Argus, Volume V, Issue 333, 27 August 1898, Page 5 (Supplement)

The Storyteller.

UNDER A STRANGE MASK. BY FRAMv BARRETT. CHAri'EH I.—A STRANGE OLD MAN. (Continued). 1 had not yet seen old Sylvestpr, and though I was prepared, from his seclusion, and the exceptional character of his few and brief letters, to find him unlike the generality of old men, I was completely taken aback by the spectacle presented to my eyes as the door opened. You may understand my surprise if you picture to yourself a little' scarecraw of a man, not more than five feet high, muffled in a superb dresj-ing-gown of fur that came up to his ears and down to his heels, leaving nothing of himself visible but one thin hand loaded with rings, (the right was in a sling, be having, I was told, injured it on the journey), and a small weazen face, rigid and shining with enamels and fards employed to conceal the mark of Time's finger, and "'■:'.■ ny remarkable for a pair of little deep-set black eyes, that reminded me of nothing I had ever seen that was human ; their apprehensive dread, and treacherous shiftiness, their purposeless regard to right and left, their vacancy, their i very movement and tbo blink of his cyelhls were emphatically distinctive of the monkoy. I might almost say that his eyes alone were all that were visible of his face ; for the rest of his features were as completely concealed and disguised by the coating of waxy enamel and other appliances as his body by the dressing-gown that enveloped it. * Good-heavens !' thought I, with disgust; • what can this thing be like at night, when wig, teeth, eye, for aught I know to the contrary, his very eyebrows and moustache are removed, and the coat of paint an* pomade washsd from his skin V That was my first thought, but the next impression was that the bare and yellow, parched and puckered skin of extreme old age would be less repulsive than this palpable pretence to youth. Perhaps it was the knowledge of his great age, the consciousness that this old man was getting on for ninety, that made the sham so disgusting to me ; I had never seen anything like it before ; that was another reason for my being so unpleasantly shocked. I remember feeling surprised to find how coolly Redlands treated the subject when I expressed my disgust to him. «I don't see anything particularly hideous in his makeup,' said he. ' One meets lots of old men in the world who make fools of themselves. If you could tbilk of the old man as being no more than the age he tries to appear, I fancy half your antipathy would be lost,' I daresay he was right. A young man looking like a gentleman's body-servant, cleanshaven, smart, active, and dressed in a closely-buttoned frock or>at, accompanied the old man. This was his secretary, his constant attendant, and general factotum, Mr Lestrange; but I had little attention to give him just then, being absorbed in the contemplation •f his master.

Marian advanced to meet him, and offered her hand with a kindly greeting. 1 Charming, charmimg!' piped the old man in a reedy little voice, but seeming not to move a muscle of his face for fear of cracking the enamel ; and with this compliment to his grandchild, he raised her hand and bent bis head as if be intended to kiss it; but he let it slip from his shaking fingers as though the intention had gone from bis feeble mind, as his eye rested on me and produced a new idea. Marian introduced us, and then left the room. There was no need to offer any excuse for going ; the old man had forgotten her. ' I shall bo glad to speak to you on a matter of business,' said I. He still kept bis beady eyes fixed vacantly on me. Lestrange, raising bis voice said in his ear

1 Mr Keene, solicitor ; business.'

I saw as he led his master to a chair that there was a small aural instrument fixed in the old man's ear. He sat down slowly, and with the movement of an automaton.

' You have heard, sir, perhaps,' said I, drawing a chair near and Beating myself, ' that Lord Redlands no longer wishes to sell his estate-' Lestrange repeated what I said. ' Don't shout, fellow,' squeaked the old man ; 'one would think that I was deaf. 1 bear what the lawyer says. Then turning to me—

'I don't want to buy. his estate. I don't want to be bothered with anything concerning it. I've tuld you soJn my letters often enough. I've ndjeome this distance to talk about business ; I've come for pleasure. Understand tHat please !' 1 Very good sir : I hope I shall minister to your pleasure in telling you that your grandchild, Miss Marian .Sylvester is about to many.' The old man put Ins finger into his mouth as if to secure the fastening of his teeth, and then, with the game empty look, said—- • Going to marry. Whom V '

Ht glanced, tirsc on one side ami then on the other, with that simian look of apprehension ; then leaning back, let his head sink until the fur of his gown mingled with the curls of his wig ; by which time his memory had gone astray, and he glanced from me to his secretary, squeaking petulantly—- « What's it all about ?

Lestrange replied, ( Miss Sylvester your grand-daughter, going to marry Lord Redlands; ' then pointing to me, ' Your solicitor, Mr Keene.'

• Well? asked the old man, fixing his eves absently on me. 1 I feel it my duty as a friend of Miss Sylvester, and as Lord Redlands' adviser, to suggest the advisability of your making a settlement upon her, By the exertion of your son, the late Colonel Sylvester, and his daughter, JVliss Marian, this estate has been made what it is. and I feel sure that you, consistently with the generdsity you have displayed in making her your sole legatee, and the strict equity ihat has characterised your life, will not hesitate to assign this estate to her for her sole use and profit, as a due return for a most faithful steward-ship.'

' You have not lost the will 1 made V he squeaked. ' No, I hold that safely.' 'Well, isn't that enough for her?'

• No, sir, it is not. If that will from any unforseen accident should be rendered void, she would be penniless. ' What could render it void V

'Many things; for instance, supposing a claim were put in by some one who in years gone by—' * Years gone by !' he cried in terror. Then suddenly raising himself with one hand, he craned his neck round, to stare behind him, first on one side then on the other, with terrible quickness, ' Lestrange had his hand on the old man's shoulder in a moment.

' It's all right, sir, it's all right !' said he soothingly. ' There's no one there.'

Then turning to me, he added quickly in an undertone — 1 Leave us for to-day, sir, please. When he's taken like this there's no doing anything with him. ' I'll make the matter clear to him. He'll agree to it, and I'll get him to sign whatever vou think right. Good morning, sir. I whipped up my hat, and left the room, nothing loth ; as I glanced back from the door, I saw him again sitting back in the chair panting, his mouth open, aud Lestrange coolly dabbing his face with a wash-leather stump to restore the enamel where it had been cracked by the unusual emotion. • Was old Sylvester mad V I asked myself. CHAPTER XI. —1 LEARN AN UNPLEASANT SECRET. About three o'clock the next afternoon Lestrange called on me. He had come over from Loecliff in a fly, expressly to see me, he said, about the business I had opened the day before with old Sylvester. I bade him take a chair, and, drawing mine opposite to him, took this opportunity of examining him more closely than circumstances had hitherto permitted. As 1 have feaid before, he looked like a gentleman's servant, cleanshaved and neatly dressed ; but now I came to regard him critically, I did not like the look of his face. There was avarice in his long hooked nose and thin lips, and an unpleasant hint of cunning in his narrow eyes. Whilst making these observations I asked after the health of his master. ' Ob, he's all right to-day, sir,' said he. ' I've made him keep his bed, and locked him in.' • Locked him in !' said I. ' Surely there's no n«ed of restrant 1 1 Oh, isn't there though !' said he airily, with a knowing jerk of his head. ' I have to turn the key on him if I go away for half an hour ; however, he knows what's good for him as well as I do, or he wouldn't keep me on. ( ' Is he subject to some sort of mental hallucination P ' He's not mad, if that's what you mean ; only his nerve is giving way, and be is at time;? overcome with terror, as you saw him yesterday. At bis age something is bound to give way, and it's his nerve that's giving—and he knows it. That's partly the reason of his coming to England. The old buck has led no end of a fast life ; that and the relaxing climate of Italy, is telling on him, and he hoped to be braced up by the change. It's not a bit of good. Once a horse gets weak-kne«i he's never safe.

1 Dear me !' said I, ' this is distressing. What is the object of the old gentleman's terror. ' Now, sir, you ask me a question that I must decline to answer—unless I find it worth my while.'

I saw clearly enough that he wished me to make it ' worth his while; but J pretended indifference, knowing already the kind of man I had to deal with.

' I have no wish to inquire into your secrets,' said I, 'and so we will go at once, if you please, to the purpose of your visit.' ' Certainly, sir. I explained your proposal to Mr SyWoster last night, and he authorised me to come here and make an arrangement with you. If we come to terms wo can draw up a deed of settlement, and

I will get it signed by the old gentleman without further delay.' «I don't know what terms you mean,' said I. ' I propose simply that Mr Sylvester should assign to his grand-daughter the whole of that estate which is now nominally hers, and will actually be hers at Mr Sylvester's death in accordance with the will he has made in her favour.

1 The whole of the estate. That,' said he, shaking his head slowly, • won't do. No, that will not do at all. May I ask, sir, what the value of the estate is V

' I should value it roughly at two hundred thousand pounds ; if it were put in the market it would, probably realise no more than half that sum.'

He took time for reflection, and then said—

'|Well, sir, we will say that you shall put it in the market, and we will divide whatever it realises equally. That will be fifty thousand pounds tor Miss Sylvester, and a very good lump sum too. You cannot say we are ungenerous.' 1 1 was astounded by this proposition, and not less by the attitude of the man.

' Why should the estate be put in the market at all V I asked. <To settle the matter quickly. If Miss Sylvester marries she won't wish to stay in that dead-and-alive house. And the sooner I get the old man out of it the better for him —and me too. I'd never have let him com 9 if I had forseen the danger; he's ten times worse here than he was in Italy ; It's no joke, I can tell you, to be constantly on the watch night and day with an uncertain customer like him, who in one unguarded moment might—' he finished the sentence with a vaguely significient' turn of his hands.

'Do you mean that he is in danger of —of destroying himself T I asked.

'Something like it, at any rate. However, that is neither here nor there. The question is, will you accept on behalf of Mis 3 Sylvester the terms I propose V 'I can tell her what Miss Sylvester offers,' said I. ' Do, and,' said he, dropping his voice and bending towards me, his elbow on his knee and his forefinger raised warningly, 'if you have a friendly regard for her interests and peace of mind, advise her to say •Snap' to that offer , get the business concluded and old Sylvester out of the way as quickly and quietly as possible, ' I'll back you for my own sake, and the moment we touch the money I'll whisk the old man off in a Pulman and get him back to Amalfi sharp. ' Upon my word, Mr Le3trange, I do not understand you,' said I. 'ls it necessary that you should understand more V

' Undoubtedly. As the matter stands I should never advise Miss Sylvester to accept fifty thousand now, when by waiting a few years she will inherit an estate worth four times ar much.

He laughed. ' Well, Mr Keene,' said he, drawing himself up with an air of contempt, ' for a lawyer, you seem to attach a singular am ount of importance to that will. It was revoked months ago. If old Sylvester were to die now his granddaughter wouldn't have a penny to bless herself with.'

I was not altogether surprised to hear this, though I pretended to be sceptical. * Perchance you can tell me,' said 1,.' 1 whom he has left the property tOt

Yes, I can,' he answered. *He has left every farthing he has to me. And if I were as sure that he would go off the hooka in twentyfour hours or even twenty-four weeks. I shouldn't be here now. But I'm not sure. The old fellow may . linger on three or four years, and 1 can't afford to wait; it's too risky. That's why 3 make this offer of fifty thousand down if you can dispose of the estate in a week.' 1 Can you tell me what claim you have to a share in his estate V I asked. He was silent, ' I must have an explanation of that kind,' he continued, ' not only to justify such an arrangement to the satisfaction of my own concsience, but to the satisfaction of my client also.' 'lf you consider the .satisfaction of your client you will ask for no such explanation. Believe me,' he said, speaking earnestly, ' I am dealing honestly, and kindly too, in this ; an explanation may ruin Miss Sylvester's peace of mind for ever. Come, sir, I know what you are thinking about—that a man cannot make a deed of gift without giving some reason for his donation. "Well, I will give you a plansible and absolutely true reason for old Sylvester's generosity to me—if you choose to call it ' generosity ' —l have saved his life and his honour ; he has stated the fact in the will made in my favour now let that suffice, and, as you respect Mis 3 Sylvester, push no further.'

J hesitated still, feeling that I should be compounding with a rascal, as I fell sure he was.

1 1 tell you frankly,' he continued, 'that if you do drive me up in a corner I shall tell you all, and then you and Miss Sylvester will be only too glad to stop my mouth with fifty thousand pounds and, more besides to get old Sylvester back into Italy.' Well, thought I, honest is the best policy, all the world over. I uever knew any good got by a lie,

nor any good lost by a truth, and I'll stick to my principle at all hazards.

'Mr Lestrange,' said I. 'my mind is made up; there must be no reservation. I must have the whole truth respecting this affair or wash my hands of it entirely.' He looked, at me searchingly. 'You mean what you say? said he. ' Emphatically. I have named my condition, and will abide by it.' 'Very well,' said he. 'You will heartily wish you had not, but that is not my affair. I have done the best in my power to avoid explanation, in kindness to Miss Sylvester, whom I admire and sympathise with heartily, though not to the sacrifice of my own fortune, now then, ask what you will, and I will answer without reserve or hesitation.' Now that I was brought face to face with the crises of my own seeking, I felt anything but comfortable —the man's evident sincerity at this point shaking my faith in the wisdom of the course I pursued. However, there was no way out of it now.

' First of all,' said I, getting, my thoughts .into some sort of categorical order, ' what is the old man afraid of V

'Of himself, chiefly. In a reasonable state of mind he is aware that his nerve, as 1 call it, is giving way ; that there are time 3 when he is not master of his own actions, and that in those times he is like to pour out all that lies on his conscience t» the first person he meets—or the empty air. He was siezed with one of these attacks, which he calls remorse, and I term loss of nerve, yesterday, and you saw how I had to stop him. He is liable to them at any moment upon the slightest provocation. You produced the attack by a casual suggestion of something in the past. But the most dangerous times are at night, when he sinks into a state of somnambulism, and would rush out of the room if I did not keep the door fastened and the key under my pillow. His cries would alarm the whole neighbourhood if I were not sharp to wake him up, get him into bed, and quiet him. 1 never sleep out of his room. You can understand, therefore, why I wish to be quit of such a service.' ' You spoke enigmatically of his destroying himself,' I said. ' It's clear enough. He would destroy himself, if I lot him, by betraying a secret that would bring him to gaol for life.' ' Impossible,' I gasped. ' True enough If he escaped, it would only be by a successful plead ing of insanity. But that could hardly be maintained in the face of the facts, and would certainly never clear him in the estimation of any reasoning man.'

'But what deed has he committed I —when I —where V

' When I —fifty years ago where 1 —in that very house where he is now lying. What deed I —the fatal injury of his friend, Lord B-ed-lands !'

' I sank back in my chair, speechless. • I have heard the details of the crime over and over again from his lips,' Lestrange continued. 'He was a widower. Friend of Lord Kedlands. Redlands, in difficulties, borrowed money of him and gave him the receipts. In the night he gagged his friend with a pillow, and stole the money he had brought down. Redlands shortly died of shock, Made it appear that highwaymen had done it. To show his own honesty, Sylvester tors up the receipt he had received from Redlands. Redlands widow, still in difficulties, sells the Court and half the estate. Sylvester buys it, and offers the title-deeds to the widow if she will marry him. She refuses—suspecting him, probably. Ho, to avoid inquiry and forget his disappointment, goes abroad. From the very first he seems to have been pursued by remorse, for he lived in utter seclusion, and had not the courage to look on his son. But his secret was his own until a couple of years back, when he perceived that he might at any moment betray himself under the pressure of remorse.

Then he engaged me to watch him night and day, promising any reward I liked to demand. I demanded all he had ; and he agreed, making the will I have told you about. For two years this has gone on ; I have stuck to his side like a shadow, and if ever man deserved reward, I do. Night and day, day and night, I cannot answer for my own reason under a prolonged stress of this awful kind. For it is awful. Besides that, I have to occupy his mind; I have found the greatest success in pampering his vanity. In Italy he is regarded as a milionaire, and the baser kind of aristocracy receives and flatters him. He thinks he is witty and pleasing ; you see his fatuity. Well, as I say, I can stand it no longer, and either I must leave him to go his own way to the fate that has been standbefore him fifty years, or—l must have fifty thousand pounds to get him back to Italy and keep myself a bit comfortable. Now Mr Keene. it is for you to decide which course T am to take. (To he continued).