The Project Gutenberg Etext of New Arabian Nights

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When he awoke it was still pitch dark, except for the flicker of
the veiled lamp; and the continual roaring and oscillation
testified to the unrelaxed velocity of the train. He sat upright
in a panic, for he had been tormented by the most uneasy dreams; it
was some seconds before he recovered his self-command; and even
after he had resumed a recumbent attitude sleep continued to flee
him, and he lay awake with his brain in a state of violent
agitation, and his eyes fixed upon the lavatory door. He pulled
his clerical felt hat over his brow still farther to shield him
from the light; and he adopted the usual expedients, such as
counting a thousand or banishing thought, by which experienced
invalids are accustomed to woo the approach of sleep. In the case
of Mr. Rolles they proved one and all vain; he was harassed by a
dozen different anxieties - the old man in the other end of the
carriage haunted him in the most alarming shapes; and in whatever
attitude he chose to lie the diamond in his pocket occasioned him a
sensible physical distress. It burned, it was too large, it
bruised his ribs; and there were infinitesimal fractions of a
second in which he had half a mind to throw it from the window.

While he was thus lying, a strange incident took place.

The sliding-door into the lavatory stirred a little, and then a
little more, and was finally drawn back for the space of about
twenty inches. The lamp in the lavatory was unshaded, and in the
lighted aperture thus disclosed, Mr. Rolles could see the head of
Mr. Vandeleur in an attitude of deep attention. He was conscious
that the gaze of the Dictator rested intently on his own face; and
the instinct of self-preservation moved him to hold his breath, to
refrain from the least movement, and keeping his eyes lowered, to
watch his visitor from underneath the lashes. After about a
moment, the head was withdrawn and the door of the lavatory
replaced.

The Dictator had not come to attack, but to observe; his action was
not that of a man threatening another, but that of a man who was
himself threatened; if Mr. Rolles was afraid of him, it appeared
that he, in his turn, was not quite easy on the score of Mr.
Rolles. He had come, it would seem, to make sure that his only
fellow-traveller was asleep; and, when satisfied on that point, he
had at once withdrawn.

The clergyman leaped to his feet. The extreme of terror had given
place to a reaction of foolhardy daring. He reflected that the
rattle of the flying train concealed all other sounds, and
determined, come what might, to return the visit he had just
received. Divesting himself of his cloak, which might have
interfered with the freedom of his action, he entered the lavatory
and paused to listen. As he had expected, there was nothing to be
heard above the roar of the train's progress; and laying his hand
on the door at the farther side, he proceeded cautiously to draw it
back for about six inches. Then he stopped, and could not contain
an ejaculation of surprise.

John Vandeleur wore a fur travelling cap with lappets to protect
his ears; and this may have combined with the sound of the express
to keep him in ignorance of what was going forward. It is certain,
at least, that he did not raise his head, but continued without
interruption to pursue his strange employment. Between his feet
stood an open hat-box; in one hand he held the sleeve of his
sealskin great-coat; in the other a formidable knife, with which he
had just slit up the lining of the sleeve. Mr. Rolles had read of
persons carrying money in a belt; and as he had no acquaintance
with any but cricket-belts, he had never been able rightly to
conceive how this was managed. But here was a stranger thing
before his eyes; for John Vandeleur, it appeared, carried diamonds
in the lining of his sleeve; and even as the young clergyman gazed,
he could see one glittering brilliant drop after another into the
hat-box.

He stood riveted to the spot, following this unusual business with
his eyes. The diamonds were, for the most part, small, and not
easily distinguishable either in shape or fire. Suddenly the
Dictator appeared to find a difficulty; he employed both hands and
stooped over his task; but it was not until after considerable
manoeuvring that he extricated a large tiara of diamonds from the
lining, and held it up for some seconds' examination before he
placed it with the others in the hat-box. The tiara was a ray of
light to Mr. Rolles; he immediately recognised it for a part of the
treasure stolen from Harry Hartley by the loiterer. There was no
room for mistake; it was exactly as the detective had described it;
there were the ruby stars, with a great emerald in the centre;
there were the interlacing crescents; and there were the pear-
shaped pendants, each a single stone, which gave a special value to
Lady Vandeleur's tiara.

Mr. Rolles was hugely relieved. The Dictator was as deeply in the
affair as he was; neither could tell tales upon the other. In the
first glow of happiness, the clergyman suffered a deep sigh to
escape him; and as his bosom had become choked and his throat dry
during his previous suspense, the sigh was followed by a cough.

Mr. Vandeleur looked up; his face contracted with the blackest and
most deadly passion; his eyes opened widely, and his under jaw
dropped in an astonishment that was upon the brink of fury. By an
instinctive movement he had covered the hat-box with the coat. For
half a minute the two men stared upon each other in silence. It
was not a long interval, but it sufficed for Mr. Rolles; he was one
of those who think swiftly on dangerous occasions; he decided on a
course of action of a singularly daring nature; and although he
felt he was setting his life upon the hazard, he was the first to
break silence.

"I beg your pardon," said he.

The Dictator shivered slightly, and when he spoke his voice was
hoarse.

"What do you want here?" he asked.

"I take a particular interest in diamonds," replied Mr. Rolles,
with an air of perfect self-possession. "Two connoisseurs should
be acquainted. I have here a trifle of my own which may perhaps
serve for an introduction."

And so saying, he quietly took the case from his pocket, showed the
Rajah's Diamond to the Dictator for an instant, and replaced it in
security.

"It was once your brother's," he added.

John Vandeleur continued to regard him with a look of almost
painful amazement; but he neither spoke nor moved.

"I was pleased to observe," resumed the young man, "that we have
gems from the same collection."

The Dictator's surprise overpowered him.

"I beg your pardon," he said; "I begin to perceive that I am
growing old! I am positively not prepared for little incidents
like this. But set my mind at rest upon one point: do my eyes
deceive me, or are you indeed a parson?"

"I am in holy orders," answered Mr. Rolles.

"Well," cried the other, "as long as I live I will never hear
another word against the cloth!"

"You flatter me," said Mr. Rolles.

"Pardon me," replied Vandeleur; "pardon me, young man. You are no
coward, but it still remains to be seen whether you are not the
worst of fools. Perhaps," he continued, leaning back upon his
seat, "perhaps you would oblige me with a few particulars. I must
suppose you had some object in the stupefying impudence of your
proceedings, and I confess I have a curiosity to know it."

"It is very simple," replied the clergyman; "it proceeds from my
great inexperience of life."

"I shall be glad to be persuaded," answered Vandeleur.

Whereupon Mr. Rolles told him the whole story of his connection
with the Rajah's Diamond, from the time he found it in Raeburn's
garden to the time when he left London in the Flying Scotchman. He
added a brief sketch of his feelings and thoughts during the
journey, and concluded in these words:-

"When I recognised the tiara I knew we were in the same attitude
towards Society, and this inspired me with a hope, which I trust
you will say was not ill-founded, that you might become in some
sense my partner in the difficulties and, of course, the profits of
my situation. To one of your special knowledge and obviously great
experience the negotiation of the diamond would give but little
trouble, while to me it was a matter of impossibility. On the
other part, I judged that I might lose nearly as much by cutting
the diamond, and that not improbably with an unskilful hand, as
might enable me to pay you with proper generosity for your
assistance. The subject was a delicate one to broach; and perhaps
I fell short in delicacy. But I must ask you to remember that for
me the situation was a new one, and I was entirely unacquainted
with the etiquette in use. I believe without vanity that I could
have married or baptized you in a very acceptable manner; but every
man has his own aptitudes, and this sort of bargain was not among
the list of my accomplishments."

"I do not wish to flatter you," replied Vandeleur; "but upon my
word, you have an unusual disposition for a life of crime. You
have more accomplishments than you imagine; and though I have
encountered a number of rogues in different quarters of the world,
I never met with one so unblushing as yourself. Cheer up, Mr.
Rolles, you are in the right profession at last! As for helping
you, you may command me as you will. I have only a day's business
in Edinburgh on a little matter for my brother; and once that is
concluded, I return to Paris, where I usually reside. If you
please, you may accompany me thither. And before the end of a
month I believe I shall have brought your little business to a
satisfactory conclusion."

(At this point, contrary to all the canons of his art, our Arabian
author breaks off the STORY OF THE YOUNG MAN IN HOLY ORDERS. I
regret and condemn such practices; but I must follow my original,
and refer the reader for the conclusion of Mr. Rolles' adventures
to the next number of the cycle, the STORY OF THE HOUSE WITH THE
GREEN BLINDS.)

STORY OF THE HOUSE WITH THE GREEN BLINDS

Francis Scrymgeour, a clerk in the Bank of Scotland at Edinburgh,
had attained the age of twenty-five in a sphere of quiet,
creditable, and domestic life. His mother died while he was young;
but his father, a man of sense and probity, had given him an
excellent education at school, and brought him up at home to
orderly and frugal habits. Francis, who was of a docile and
affectionate disposition, profited by these advantages with zeal,
and devoted himself heart and soul to his employment. A walk upon
Saturday afternoon, an occasional dinner with members of his
family, and a yearly tour of a fortnight in the Highlands or even
on the continent of Europe, were his principal distractions, and,
he grew rapidly in favour with his superiors, and enjoyed already a
salary of nearly two hundred pounds a year, with the prospect of an
ultimate advance to almost double that amount. Few young men were
more contented, few more willing and laborious than Francis
Scrymgeour. Sometimes at night, when he had read the daily paper,
he would play upon the flute to amuse his father, for whose
qualities he entertained a great respect.

One day he received a note from a well-known firm of Writers to the
Signet, requesting the favour of an immediate interview with him.
The letter was marked "Private and Confidential," and had been
addressed to him at the bank, instead of at home - two unusual
circumstances which made him obey the summons with the more
alacrity. The senior member of the firm, a man of much austerity
of manner, made him gravely welcome, requested him to take a seat,
and proceeded to explain the matter in hand in the picked
expressions of a veteran man of business. A person, who must
remain nameless, but of whom the lawyer had every reason to think
well - a man, in short, of some station in the country - desired to
make Francis an annual allowance of five hundred pounds. The
capital was to be placed under the control of the lawyer's firm and
two trustees who must also remain anonymous. There were conditions
annexed to this liberality, but he was of opinion that his new
client would find nothing either excessive or dishonourable in the
terms; and he repeated these two words with emphasis, as though he
desired to commit himself to nothing more.

Francis asked their nature.

"The conditions," said the Writer to the Signet, "are, as I have
twice remarked, neither dishonourable nor excessive. At the same
time I cannot conceal from you that they are most unusual. Indeed,
the whole case is very much out of our way; and I should certainly
have refused it had it not been for the reputation of the gentleman
who entrusted it to my care, and, let me add, Mr. Scrymgeour, the
interest I have been led to take in yourself by many complimentary
and, I have no doubt, well-deserved reports."

Francis entreated him to be more specific.

"You cannot picture my uneasiness as to these conditions," he said.

"They are two," replied the lawyer, "only two; and the sum, as you
will remember, is five hundred a-year - and unburdened, I forgot to
add, unburdened."

And the lawyer raised his eyebrows at him with solemn gusto.

"The first," he resumed, "is of remarkable simplicity. You must be
in Paris by the afternoon of Sunday, the 15th; there you will find,
at the box-office of the Comedie Francaise, a ticket for admission
taken in your name and waiting you. You are requested to sit out
the whole performance in the seat provided, and that is all."

"I should certainly have preferred a week-day," replied Francis. "
But, after all, once in a way - "

"And in Paris, my dear sir," added the lawyer soothingly. "I
believe I am something of a precisian myself, but upon such a
consideration, and in Paris, I should not hesitate an instant."

And the pair laughed pleasantly together.

"The other is of more importance," continued the Writer to the
Signet. "It regards your marriage. My client, taking a deep
interest in your welfare, desires to advise you absolutely in the
choice of a wife. Absolutely, you understand," he repeated.

"Let us be more explicit, if you please," returned Francis. "Am I
to marry any one, maid or widow, black or white, whom this
invisible person chooses to propose?"

"I was to assure you that suitability of age and position should be
a principle with your benefactor," replied the lawyer. "As to
race, I confess the difficulty had not occurred to me, and I failed
to inquire; but if you like I will make a note of it at once, and
advise you on the earliest opportunity."

"Sir," said Francis, "it remains to be seen whether this whole
affair is not a most unworthy fraud. The circumstances are
inexplicable - I had almost said incredible; and until I see a
little more daylight, and some plausible motive, I confess I should
be very sorry to put a hand to the transaction. I appeal to you in
this difficulty for information. I must learn what is at the
bottom of it all. If you do not know, cannot guess, or are not at
liberty to tell me, I shall take my hat and go back to my bank as
came."

"I do not know," answered the lawyer, "but I have an excellent
guess. Your father, and no one else, is at the root of this
apparently unnatural business."

"My father!" cried Francis, in extreme disdain. "Worthy man, I
know every thought of his mind, every penny of his fortune!"

"You misinterpret my words," said the lawyer. "I do not refer to
Mr. Scrymgeour, senior; for he is not your father. When he and his
wife came to Edinburgh, you were already nearly one year old, and
you had not yet been three months in their care. The secret has
been well kept; but such is the fact. Your father is unknown, and
I say again that I believe him to be the original of the offers I
am charged at present to transmit to you."

It would be impossible to exaggerate the astonishment of Francis
Scrymgeour at this unexpected information. He pled this confusion
to the lawyer.

"Sir," said he, "after a piece of news so startling, you must grant
me some hours for thought. You shall know this evening what
conclusion I have reached."

The lawyer commended his prudence; and Francis, excusing himself
upon some pretext at the bank, took a long walk into the country,
and fully considered the different steps and aspects of the case.
A pleasant sense of his own importance rendered him the more
deliberate: but the issue was from the first not doubtful. His
whole carnal man leaned irresistibly towards the five hundred a
year, and the strange conditions with which it was burdened; he
discovered in his heart an invincible repugnance to the name of
Scrymgeour, which he had never hitherto disliked; he began to
despise the narrow and unromantic interests of his former life; and
when once his mind was fairly made up, he walked with a new feeling
of strength and freedom, and nourished himself with the gayest
anticipations.

He said but a word to the lawyer, and immediately received a cheque
for two quarters' arrears; for the allowance was ante-dated from
the first of January. With this in his pocket, he walked home.
The flat in Scotland Street looked mean in his eyes; his nostrils,
for the first time, rebelled against the odour of broth; and he
observed little defects of manner in his adoptive father which
filled him with surprise and almost with disgust. The next day, he
determined, should see him on his way to Paris.

In that city, where he arrived long before the appointed date, he
put up at a modest hotel frequented by English and Italians, and
devoted himself to improvement in the French tongue; for this
purpose he had a master twice a week, entered into conversation
with loiterers in the Champs Elysees, and nightly frequented the
theatre. He had his whole toilette fashionably renewed; and was
shaved and had his hair dressed every morning by a barber in a
neighbouring street. This gave him something of a foreign air, and
seemed to wipe off the reproach of his past years.

At length, on the Saturday afternoon, he betook himself to the box-
office of the theatre in the Rue Richelieu. No sooner had he
mentioned his name than the clerk produced the order in an envelope
of which the address was scarcely dry.

"It has been taken this moment," said the clerk.

"Indeed!" said Francis. "May I ask what the gentleman was like?"

"Your friend is easy to describe," replied the official. "He is
old and strong and beautiful, with white hair and a sabre-cut
across his face. You cannot fail to recognise so marked a person."

"No, indeed," returned Francis; "and I thank you for your
politeness."

"He cannot yet be far distant," added the clerk. "If you make
haste you might still overtake him."

Francis did not wait to be twice told; he ran precipitately from
the theatre into the middle of the street and looked in all
directions. More than one white-haired man was within sight; but
though he overtook each of them in succession, all wanted the
sabre-cut. For nearly half-an-hour he tried one street after
another in the neighbourhood, until at length, recognising the
folly of continued search, he started on a walk to compose his
agitated feelings; for this proximity of an encounter with him to
whom he could not doubt he owed the day had profoundly moved the
young man.

It chanced that his way lay up the Rue Drouot and thence up the Rue
des Martyrs; and chance, in this case, served him better than all
the forethought in the world. For on the outer boulevard he saw
two men in earnest colloquy upon a seat. One was dark, young, and
handsome, secularly dressed, but with an indelible clerical stamp;
the other answered in every particular to the description given him
by the clerk. Francis felt his heart beat high in his bosom; he
knew he was now about to hear the voice of his father; and making a
wide circuit, he noiselessly took his place behind the couple in
question, who were too much interested in their talk to observe
much else. As Francis had expected, the conversation was conducted
in the English language

"Your suspicions begin to annoy me, Rolles," said the older man.
"I tell you I am doing my utmost; a man cannot lay his hand on
millions in a moment. Have I not taken you up, a mere stranger,
out of pure good-will? Are you not living largely on my bounty?"

"On your advances, Mr. Vandeleur," corrected the other.

"Advances, if you choose; and interest instead of goodwill, if you
prefer it," returned Vandeleur angrily. "I am not here to pick
expressions. Business is business; and your business, let me
remind you, is too muddy for such airs. Trust me, or leave me
alone and find some one else; but let us have an end, for God's
sake, of your jeremiads."

"I am beginning to learn the world," replied the other, "and I see
that you have every reason to play me false, and not one to deal
honestly. I am not here to pick expressions either; you wish the
diamond for yourself; you know you do - you dare not deny it. Have
you not already forged my name, and searched my lodging in my
absence? I understand the cause of your delays; you are lying in
wait; you are the diamond hunter, forsooth; and sooner or later, by
fair means or foul, you'll lay your hands upon it. I tell you, it
must stop; push me much further and I promise you a surprise."

"It does not become you to use threats," returned Vandeleur. "Two
can play at that. My brother is here in Paris; the police are on
the alert; and if you persist in wearying me with your
caterwauling, I will arrange a little astonishment for you, Mr.
Rolles. But mine shall be once and for all. Do you understand, or
would you prefer me to tell it you in Hebrew? There is an end to
all things, and you have come to the end of my patience. Tuesday,
at seven; not a day, not an hour sooner, not the least part of a
second, if it were to save your life. And if you do not choose to
wait, you may go to the bottomless pit for me, and welcome."

And so saying, the Dictator arose from the bench, and marched off
in the direction of Montmartre, shaking his head and swinging his
cane with a most furious air; while his companion remained where he
was, in an attitude of great dejection.

Francis was at the pitch of surprise and horror; his sentiments had
been shocked to the last degree; the hopeful tenderness with which
he had taken his place upon the bench was transformed into
repulsion and despair; old Mr. Scrymgeour, he reflected, was a far
more kindly and creditable parent than this dangerous and violent
intriguer; but he retained his presence of mind, and suffered not a
moment to elapse before he was on the trail of the Dictator.

That gentleman's fury carried him forward at a brisk pace, and he
was so completely occupied in his angry thoughts that he never so
much as cast a look behind him till he reached his own door.

His house stood high up in the Rue Lepic, commanding a view of all
Paris and enjoying the pure air of the heights. It was two storeys
high, with green blinds and shutters; and all the windows looking
on the street were hermetically closed. Tops of trees showed over
the high garden wall, and the wall was protected by CHEVAUX-DE-
FRISE. The Dictator paused a moment while he searched his pocket
for a key; and then, opening a gate, disappeared within the
enclosure.

Francis looked about him; the neighbourhood was very lonely, the
house isolated in its garden. It seemed as if his observation must
here come to an abrupt end. A second glance, however, showed him a
tall house next door presenting a gable to the garden, and in this
gable a single window. He passed to the front and saw a ticket
offering unfurnished lodgings by the month; and, on inquiry, the
room which commanded the Dictator's garden proved to be one of
those to let. Francis did not hesitate a moment; he took the room,
paid an advance upon the rent, and returned to his hotel to seek
his baggage.

The old man with the sabre-cut might or might not be his father; he
might or he might not be upon the true scent; but he was certainly
on the edge of an exciting mystery, and he promised himself that he
would not relax his observation until he had got to the bottom of
the secret.

From the window of his new apartment Francis Scrymgeour commanded a
complete view into the garden of the house with the green blinds.
Immediately below him a very comely chestnut with wide boughs
sheltered a pair of rustic tables where people might dine in the
height of summer. On all sides save one a dense vegetation
concealed the soil; but there, between the tables and the house, he
saw a patch of gravel walk leading from the verandah to the garden-
gate. Studying the place from between the boards of the Venetian
shutters, which he durst not open for fear of attracting attention,
Francis observed but little to indicate the manners of the
inhabitants, and that little argued no more than a close reserve
and a taste for solitude. The garden was conventual, the house had
the air of a prison. The green blinds were all drawn down upon the
outside; the door into the verandah was closed; the garden, as far
as he could see it, was left entirely to itself in the evening
sunshine. A modest curl of smoke from a single chimney alone
testified to the presence of living people.

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