Jack Hinton Part 67

'Salute the Jacobite Club, _de ma part_,' said De Vere, with an insulting laugh, 'and tell them to cut everybody's throat in Paris save old Lafitte's; he has promised to do a bill for me in the morning.'

'You 'll not need his kindness so soon,' replied Burke, 'if you are willing to take my advice. Forty thousand francs----'

'Would he make it sixty, think you?'

'Sixty!' said Burke, with animation; 'I'm not sure, but shall I say for sixty you 'll do it?'

'No, I don't mean that; I was only anxious to know if these confounded rigmaroles I have to copy sometimes could possibly interest any one to that amount.'

Burke tried to laugh, but the hollow chuckle sounded like the gulping of a smothering man.

'Laugh out!' said De Vere, whose voice became more and more indistinct as his courage became stronger; 'that muttering is so devilish like a spy, a rascally, low-bred----'

A heavy blow, a half-uttered cry, followed, and De Vere fell with a crash to the floor, his face and temples bathed with blood, while Burke, springing to the door, darted downstairs and gained the street before pursuit was thought of. A few of the less interested about the table a.s.sisted me to raise the fallen man, from whose nose and mouth the blood flowed freely. He was perfectly senseless, and evinced scarcely a sign of life as we carried him downstairs and placed him in a carriage.

'Where to?' said the coachman, as I stood beside the door.

'I hesitated for a second, and then said, 'No. 4 Place Vendome.'

CHAPTER LX. DISCLOSURES

I have more than once heard physicians remark the singular immunity a fool's skull seems to possess from the evil effects of injury--as if Nature, when denying a governing faculty, had, in kind compensation, imparted a triple thickness to the head thus exposed. It is well known how among the educated and thinking cla.s.ses many maladies are fatal which are comparatively innocuous among those whose hands alone are called on to labour. A very ingenious theory might be spun from this fact, to the manifest self-gratulation of foxhunters, sailors, gentlemen who a.s.sault the new police, t.i.the-proctors, and others. For the present I have no further use for the remark than as it bore upon the head-piece of Lord Dudley de Vere, whose admirable developments had received little or no damage from the rude a.s.sault of his companion. When he awoke the next morning, he was only aware that something unusual had occurred; and gradually by 'trying back' in his sensations, he remembered every particle that took place--had the clearest recollection of the 'run upon red'; knew the number of bottles of champagne he had partaken of; and was only puzzled by one thing--what could possibly have suggested the courage with which he confronted Burke, and the hardihood that led to insulting him. As to any awkwardness at being brought home to the house of the person he had himself so ill-treated, he never felt anything approaching to it; the extent of his reasoning on this point only went to his satisfaction that 'some one' took care of him, and that he was not left to lie on the floor of the salon.

This admirable philosophy of De Vere served in a great measure to relieve me from the constraint I felt in presenting myself before him, and soon put me perfectly at my ease in our interview. After learning, that, except some headaching sensations, the only inconvenience he experienced was an unconquerable thirst, I touched lightly on the cause of his misfortune; when, what was my astonishment to discern that he not only did not entertain a particle of ill-will towards the man who had so brutally ill-treated him, but actually grew warm in his panegyric of Burkes consummate skill and address at play--such qualities in his estimation being well worthy to cover any small blemishes of villainy his character might suffer under.

'I say, don't you think Burke a devilish sharp fellow? He's up to everything, and so cool, so confoundedly cool! Not last night, though; no, by Jove! he lost temper completely. I shall be marked with that knock, eh? d.a.m.n me, it was too bad; he must apologise for it. You know he was drunk, and somehow he was all wrong the whole evening; he wouldn't let me back the "rouge," and such a run--you saw that, I suppose?'

I a.s.sented with a nod, for I still hesitated how far I should communicate to him my knowledge of Burke's villainy towards myself.

'By-the-bye, it's rather awkward my being here; you know your people have cut me. Don't you think I might get a cab to bring me over to the Rue d'Alger?'

There was something which touched me in the simplicity of this remark, and I proceeded to a.s.sure him that any former impressions of my friends would not be remembered against him at that moment.

'Oh, that I'm sure of; no one ever thinks it worth while to bear malice against a poor devil like me. But if I'd have backed the red----'

'Colonel O'Grady is in the drawing-room,' said a servant in a low voice to me at this instant; and leaving Lord Dudley to speculate on the contingencies of his having 'backed the red,' I joined my friend, whom I had not seen on the previous day. We were alone, and in ten minutes I explained to him the entire discovery I had fallen upon, concealing only my affection for Louisa Bellew, which I could not bring myself even to allude to.

'I see,' said Phil, when I concluded--'I see you are half disposed to forgive De Vere all his rascality. Now, what a different estimate we take of men! Perhaps--I can't say--it is because I am an Irishman, but I lean to the bold-faced villain Burke; the miserable, contemptible weakness of the one is far more intolerable to me than the ruffian effrontery of the other. Don't forget the lesson I gave you many a year ago: a fool is always a blackguard. Now, if that fellow could see his companion this minute, there is not a circ.u.mstance he has noticed here that he would not retail if it bore to your disadvantage. Untouched by your kindness to him, he would sell you--ay, to the very man you saved him from! But, after all, what have we to do with him? Our first point is to rescue this poor girl's name from being ever mixed with his; anything further is, of course, out of the question. The Rooneys are going back: I saw Paul this morning. "The Cruiskeen Lawn" has been their ruin. All the Irish officers who had taken Madame de Roni for an ill.u.s.trious stranger have found out the true scent; and so many distinguished persons are involved in the ridicule of their parties that the old _chef de police_, my friend, has sent them a private order to leave Paris in a week. Paul is in raptures at it. He has spent eighteen thousand in two months; detests the place; is dying to be back in Dublin; and swears that except one Cossack officer he hasn't met a pleasant fellow since he came abroad.'

'And Mrs. Paul?'

'Oh, the old story. I put Guilemain up to it, and he has hinted that the Empress of Russia has heard of the Czar's attentions; that there's the devil to pay in St. Petersburg; and that if she doesn't manage to steal out of Paris slyly, some confounded boyard or other will slip a sack over her head and carry her off to Tobolsk.

_Elizabeth and the Exiles_ has formed part of her reading, and Madame de Roni will dream every night of the knout till she reaches her dear native land.--But now to business. I, too, have made my discoveries since we met. De Vere's high play has been a matter of surprise to all who know him. I have found out his secret--he plays with forged _billets de banque_.'

'And has the wretched fellow gone so far as this?'

'He doesn't know it; he believes that the money is the proceeds of bills he has given to Burke, who affects to get them discounted. See here--here are a handful of their notes. Guillemain knows all, and retains the secret as a hold over Burke, whose honesty to himself he already suspects. If he catch him tripping----'

'Then----'

'Why, then, the galleys for life. Such is the system; a villain with them is worthless if his life isn't at their disposal Satan's bond completely--all, all. But show me De Vere's room, and leave me alone with him for half an hour. Let us then meet at my hotel, and concert future measures.'

Having left O'Grady with De Vere, I walked out upon the boulevards, my head full of the extraordinary facts so suddenly thronging one upon the other. A dash of hope, that for many a day had not visited me, was now mingled through all my meditations, and I began to think that there was yet a chance of happiness for me.

I had not gone many paces when an arm was thrust into mine, and a hearty chuckling laugh at the surprise rang in my ear. I turned: it was Mr.

Paul Booney, taking his morning's promenade of Paris, and now on his way home with an enormous bouquet for Madame, which she had taught him to present to her each day on her appearing in the drawing-room.

'Ah, Captain, the very man I wanted! We haven't had a moment to ourselves since your arrival. You must come and take a bit of dinner with us to-day--thank Heaven, we've no company! I have a leg of pork, smuggled into the house as if it was a bale of goods from Alexandria; n.o.body knows of it but myself and Tim.'

'Tim! why, have you brought Tim to Paris?'

'Hus.h.!.+' said he in a low, cautious voice; 'I 'd be ruined entirely if Madame was to find him out. Tim is dressed like a Tartar, and stands in the hall; and Mrs. Rooney believes that he never heard of a civil bill in his life. But here we are.'

So saying, he opened a small wicket with a latchkey, and led me into a large and well-trimmed garden, across which we walked at a rapid pace, Paul speculating from the closed shutters of his wife's room that he needed not have hurried home so fast.

'She's not down yet--one o'clock as I'm a sinner! Come along and sit down in the library; I'll join you presently.'

Scarcely had Paul left the room when I began to think over the awkwardness of my position should I meet Miss Bellew. What course to follow under the circ.u.mstances I knew not; when just at the moment the door opened, and she entered. Not perceiving me, as I stood in a deep window-recess, she drew a chair to the fire and sat down. I hardly ventured to breathe. I felt like one who had no right to obtrude himself there, and had become, as it were, a spy upon her. A long-drawn breath burst from me; she started up. I moved slightly forward, and stood before her. She leaned her hand upon the arm of the chair for support; her cheek grew deadly pale, and a tremulous quiver shook her lip.

'Mr. Hinton,' she began; and then as if the very sound of her voice had terrified her, she paused. 'Mr. Hinton,' resumed she, 'I am sure--nay, I know--if you were aware of the reasons of my conduct towards you, you would not only acquit me of all blame, but spare me the pain of our ever meeting again.'

'I know them--I do know them,' said I pa.s.sionately. 'I have been slandered.'

'No, you do not, cannot know what I mean,' interrupted she. 'It is a secret between my own heart and one who is now no more.'

The last words fell from her one by one, while a single tear rolled from her eyelid and trickled along her cheek.

'Yes, yes, Louisa; I do know it--I know all. A chance has told me how your dear father's name has been used to banish me for ever from your sight; how a forgery of his handwriting----'

'What! who could have told you what my father's last note contained?'

'He who wrote it confessed it in my hearing--Ulick Burke. Nay, I can even repeat the words' But as I spoke, a violent trembling seized her; her lips became bloodless; she tottered, and sank upon the chair. I had only time to spring forward and catch her in my arms, and her head fell heavily back, and dropped on my shoulder.

I cannot, if I would, repeat the words which in all the warm eloquence of affection I spoke. I could mark by her heightened colour that the life-blood again coursed freely in her veins, and could see that she heard me. I told her how through every hards.h.i.+p and suffering, in all the sorrow of disappointed ambition, in the long hours of captivity, my heart had ever turned to her; and then, when we did meet, to see her changed!

'But you do not blame--you cannot blame me if I believed----'

'No, if you tell me now that but for this falsehood you have not altered; that your heart is still as much my own as I once thought it.'

A faint smile played on her lips as her eyes were turned upon me; while her voice muttered--

'And do you still love me?'

I pressed her hand to my lips in rapture, when suddenly the door opened and Paul Rooney rushed in.