The Project Gutenberg Etext of New Arabian Nights

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"Upon my word," cried Florizel, "your effrontery astounds me!
Yourself, as an agent, I must pardon; but your superiors shall
dearly smart for their misconduct. What, have you any idea, is the
cause of this impolitic and unconstitutional act? You will observe
that I have as yet neither refused nor consented, and much may
depend on your prompt and ingenuous answer. Let me remind you,
officer, that this is an affair of some gravity."

"Your Highness," said the detective humbly, "General Vandeleur and
his brother have had the incredible presumption to accuse you of
theft. The famous diamond, they declare, is in your hands. A word
from you in denial will most amply satisfy the Prefect; nay, I go
farther: if your Highness would so far honour a subaltern as to
declare his ignorance of the matter even to myself, I should ask
permission to retire upon the spot."

Florizel, up to the last moment, had regarded his adventure in the
light of a trifle, only serious upon international considerations.
At the name of Vandeleur the horrible truth broke upon him in a
moment; he was not only arrested, but he was guilty. This was not
only an annoying incident - it was a peril to his honour. What was
he to say? What was he to do? The Rajah's Diamond was indeed an
accursed stone; and it seemed as if he were to be the last victim
to its influence.

One thing was certain. He could not give the required assurance to
the detective. He must gain time.

His hesitation had not lasted a second.

"Be it so," said he, "let us walk together to the Prefecture."

The man once more bowed, and proceeded to follow Florizel at a
respectful distance in the rear.

"Approach," said the Prince. "I am in a humour to talk, and, if I
mistake not, now I look at you again, this is not the first time
that we have met."

"I count it an honour," replied the officer, "that your Highness
should recollect my face. It is eight years since I had the
pleasure of an interview."

"To remember faces," returned Florizel, "is as much a part of my
profession as it is of yours. Indeed, rightly looked upon, a
Prince and a detective serve in the same corps. We are both
combatants against crime; only mine is the more lucrative and yours
the more dangerous rank, and there is a sense in which both may be
made equally honourable to a good man. I had rather, strange as
you may think it, be a detective of character and parts than a weak
and ignoble sovereign."

The officer was overwhelmed.

"Your Highness returns good for evil," said he. "To an act of
presumption he replies by the most amiable condescension."

"How do you know," replied Florizel, "that I am not seeking to
corrupt you?"

"Heaven preserve me from the temptation!" cried the detective.

"I applaud your answer," returned the Prince. "It is that of a
wise and honest man. The world is a great place and stocked with
wealth and beauty, and there is no limit to the rewards that may be
offered. Such an one who would refuse a million of money may sell
his honour for an empire or the love of a woman; and I myself, who
speak to you, have seen occasions so tempting, provocations so
irresistible to the strength of human virtue, that I have been glad
to tread in your steps and recommend myself to the grace of God.
It is thus, thanks to that modest and becoming habit alone," he
added, "that you and I can walk this town together with untarnished
hearts."

"I had always heard that you were brave," replied the officer, "but
I was not aware that you were wise and pious. You speak the truth,
and you speak it with an accent that moves me to the heart. This
world is indeed a place of trial."

"We are now," said Florizel, "in the middle of the bridge. Lean
your elbows on the parapet and look over. As the water rushing
below, so the passions and complications of life carry away the
honesty of weak men. Let me tell you a story."

"I receive your Highness's commands," replied the man.

And, imitating the Prince, he leaned against the parapet, and
disposed himself to listen. The city was already sunk in slumber;
had it not been for the infinity of lights and the outline of
buildings on the starry sky, they might have been alone beside some
country river.

"An officer," began Prince Florizel, "a man of courage and conduct,
who had already risen by merit to an eminent rank, and won not only
admiration but respect, visited, in an unfortunate hour for his
peace of mind, the collections of an Indian Prince. Here he beheld
a diamond so extraordinary for size and beauty that from that
instant he had only one desire in life: honour, reputation,
friendship, the love of country, he was ready to sacrifice all for
this lump of sparkling crystal. For three years he served this
semi-barbarian potentate as Jacob served Laban; he falsified
frontiers, he connived at murders, he unjustly condemned and
executed a brother-officer who had the misfortune to displease the
Rajah by some honest freedoms; lastly, at a time of great danger to
his native land, he betrayed a body of his fellow-soldiers, and
suffered them to be defeated and massacred by thousands. In the
end, he had amassed a magnificent fortune, and brought home with
him the coveted diamond.

"Years passed," continued the Prince, "and at length the diamond is
accidentally lost. It falls into the hands of a simple and
laborious youth, a student, a minister of God, just entering on a
career of usefulness and even distinction. Upon him also the spell
is cast; he deserts everything, his holy calling, his studies, and
flees with the gem into a foreign country. The officer has a
brother, an astute, daring, unscrupulous man, who learns the
clergyman's secret. What does he do? Tell his brother, inform the
police? No; upon this man also the Satanic charm has fallen; he
must have the stone for himself. At the risk of murder, he drugs
the young priest and seizes the prey. And now, by an accident
which is not important to my moral, the jewel passes out of his
custody into that of another, who, terrified at what he sees, gives
it into the keeping of a man in high station and above reproach.

"The officer's name is Thomas Vandeleur," continued Florizel. "The
stone is called the Rajah's Diamond. And" - suddenly opening his
hand - "you behold it here before your eyes."

The officer started back with a cry.

"We have spoken of corruption," said the Prince. "To me this
nugget of bright crystal is as loathsome as though it were crawling
with the worms of death; it is as shocking as though it were
compacted out of innocent blood. I see it here in my hand, and I
know it is shining with hell-fire. I have told you but a hundredth
part of its story; what passed in former ages, to what crimes and
treacheries it incited men of yore, the imagination trembles to
conceive; for years and years it has faithfully served the powers
of hell; enough, I say, of blood, enough of disgrace, enough of
broken lives and friendships; all things come to an end, the evil
like the good; pestilence as well as beautiful music; and as for
this diamond, God forgive me if I do wrong, but its empire ends to-
night."

The Prince made a sudden movement with his hand, and the jewel,
describing an arc of light, dived with a splash into the flowing
river.

"Amen," said Florizel with gravity. "I have slain a cockatrice!"

"God pardon me!" cried the detective. "What have you done? I am a
ruined man."

"I think," returned the Prince with a smile, "that many well-to-do
people in this city might envy you your ruin."

"Alas! your Highness!" said the officer, "and you corrupt me after
all?"

"It seems there was no help for it," replied Florizel. "And now
let us go forward to the Prefecture."

Not long after, the marriage of Francis Scrymgeour and Miss
Vandeleur was celebrated in great privacy; and the Prince acted on
that occasion as groomsman. The two Vandeleurs surprised some
rumour of what had happened to the diamond; and their vast diving
operations on the River Seine are the wonder and amusement of the
idle. It is true that through some miscalculation they have chosen
the wrong branch of the river. As for the Prince, that sublime
person, having now served his turn, may go, along with the ARABIAN
AUTHOR, topsy-turvy into space. But if the reader insists on more
specific information, I am happy to say that a recent revolution
hurled him from the throne of Bohemia, in consequence of his
continued absence and edifying neglect of public business; and that
his Highness now keeps a cigar store in Rupert Street, much
frequented by other foreign refugees. I go there from time to time
to smoke and have a chat, and find him as great a creature as in
the days of his prosperity; he has an Olympian air behind the
counter; and although a sedentary life is beginning to tell upon
his waistcoat, he is probably, take him for all in all, the
handsomest tobacconist in London.

THE PAVILION ON THE LINKS

CHAPTER I - TELLS HOW I CAMPED IN GRADEN SEA-WOOD, AND BEHELD A
LIGHT IN THE PAVILION

I was a great solitary when I was young. I made it my pride to
keep aloof and suffice for my own entertainment; and I may say that
I had neither friends nor acquaintances until I met that friend who
became my wife and the mother of my children. With one man only
was I on private terms; this was R. Northmour, Esquire, of Graden
Easter, in Scotland. We had met at college; and though there was
not much liking between us, nor even much intimacy, we were so
nearly of a humour that we could associate with ease to both.
Misanthropes, we believed ourselves to be; but I have thought since
that we were only sulky fellows. It was scarcely a companionship,
but a coexistence in unsociability. Northmour's exceptional
violence of temper made it no easy affair for him to keep the peace
with any one but me; and as he respected my silent ways, and let me
come and go as I pleased, I could tolerate his presence without
concern. I think we called each other friends.

When Northmour took his degree and I decided to leave the
university without one, he invited me on a long visit to Graden
Easter; and it was thus that I first became acquainted with the
scene of my adventures. The mansion-house of Graden stood in a
bleak stretch of country some three miles from the shore of the
German Ocean. It was as large as a barrack; and as it had been
built of a soft stone, liable to consume in the eager air of the
seaside, it was damp and draughty within and half ruinous without.
It was impossible for two young men to lodge with comfort in such a
dwelling. But there stood in the northern part of the estate, in a
wilderness of links and blowing sand-hills, and between a
plantation and the sea, a small Pavilion or Belvidere, of modern
design, which was exactly suited to our wants; and in this
hermitage, speaking little, reading much, and rarely associating
except at meals, Northmour and I spent four tempestuous winter
months. I might have stayed longer; but one March night there
sprang up between us a dispute, which rendered my departure
necessary. Northmour spoke hotly, I remember, and I suppose I must
have made some tart rejoinder. He leaped from his chair and
grappled me; I had to fight, without exaggeration, for my life; and
it was only with a great effort that I mastered him, for he was
near as strong in body as myself, and seemed filled with the devil.
The next morning, we met on our usual terms; but I judged it more
delicate to withdraw; nor did he attempt to dissuade me.

It was nine years before I revisited the neighbourhood. I
travelled at that time with a tilt cart, a tent, and a cooking-
stove, tramping all day beside the waggon, and at night, whenever
it was possible, gipsying in a cove of the hills, or by the side of
a wood. I believe I visited in this manner most of the wild and
desolate regions both in England and Scotland; and, as I had
neither friends nor relations, I was troubled with no
correspondence, and had nothing in the nature of headquarters,
unless it was the office of my solicitors, from whom I drew my
income twice a year. It was a life in which I delighted; and I
fully thought to have grown old upon the march, and at last died in
a ditch.

It was my whole business to find desolate corners, where I could
camp without the fear of interruption; and hence, being in another
part of the same shire, I bethought me suddenly of the Pavilion on
the Links. No thoroughfare passed within three miles of it. The
nearest town, and that was but a fisher village, was at a distance
of six or seven. For ten miles of length, and from a depth varying
from three miles to half a mile, this belt of barren country lay
along the sea. The beach, which was the natural approach, was full
of quicksands. Indeed I may say there is hardly a better place of
concealment in the United Kingdom. I determined to pass a week in
the Sea-Wood of Graden Easter, and making a long stage, reached it
about sundown on a wild September day.

The country, I have said, was mixed sand-hill and links; LINKS
being a Scottish name for sand which has ceased drifting and become
more or less solidly covered with turf. The Pavilion stood on an
even space; a little behind it, the wood began in a hedge of elders
huddled together by the wind; in front, a few tumbled sand-hills
stood between it and the sea. An outcropping of rock had formed a
bastion for the sand, so that there was here a promontory in the
coast-line between two shallow bays; and just beyond the tides, the
rock again cropped out and formed an islet of small dimensions but
strikingly designed. The quicksands were of great extent at low
water, and had an infamous reputation in the country. Close in
shore, between the islet and the promontory, it was said they would
swallow a man in four minutes and a half; but there may have been
little ground for this precision. The district was alive with
rabbits, and haunted by gulls which made a continual piping about
the pavilion. On summer days the outlook was bright and even
gladsome; but at sundown in September, with a high wind, and a
heavy surf rolling in close along the links, the place told of
nothing but dead mariners and sea disaster. A ship beating to
windward on the horizon, and a huge truncheon of wreck half buried
in the sands at my feet, completed the innuendo of the scene.

The pavilion - it had been built by the last proprietor,
Northmour's uncle, a silly and prodigal virtuoso - presented little
signs of age. It was two storeys in height, Italian in design,
surrounded by a patch of garden in which nothing had prospered but
a few coarse flowers; and looked, with its shuttered windows, not
like a house that had been deserted, but like one that had never
been tenanted by man. Northmour was plainly from home; whether, as
usual, sulking in the cabin of his yacht, or in one of his fitful
and extravagant appearances in the world of society, I had, of
course, no means of guessing. The place had an air of solitude
that daunted even a solitary like myself; the wind cried in the
chimneys with a strange and wailing note; and it was with a sense
of escape, as if I were going indoors, that I turned away and,
driving my cart before me, entered the skirts of the wood.

The Sea-Wood of Graden had been planted to shelter the cultivated
fields behind, and check the encroachments of the blowing sand. As
you advanced into it from coastward, elders were succeeded by other
hardy shrubs; but the timber was all stunted and bushy; it led a
life of conflict; the trees were accustomed to swing there all
night long in fierce winter tempests; and even in early spring, the
leaves were already flying, and autumn was beginning, in this
exposed plantation. Inland the ground rose into a little hill,
which, along with the islet, served as a sailing mark for seamen.
When the hill was open of the islet to the north, vessels must bear
well to the eastward to clear Graden Ness and the Graden Bullers.
In the lower ground, a streamlet ran among the trees, and, being
dammed with dead leaves and clay of its own carrying, spread out
every here and there, and lay in stagnant pools. One or two ruined
cottages were dotted about the wood; and, according to Northmour,
these were ecclesiastical foundations, and in their time had
sheltered pious hermits.

I found a den, or small hollow, where there was a spring of pure
water; and there, clearing away the brambles, I pitched the tent,
and made a fire to cook my supper. My horse I picketed farther in
the wood where there was a patch of sward. The banks of the den
not only concealed the light of my fire, but sheltered me from the
wind, which was cold as well as high.

The life I was leading made me both hardy and frugal. I never
drank but water, and rarely ate anything more costly than oatmeal;
and I required so little sleep, that, although I rose with the peep
of day, I would often lie long awake in the dark or starry watches
of the night. Thus in Graden Sea-Wood, although I fell thankfully
asleep by eight in the evening I was awake again before eleven with
a full possession of my faculties, and no sense of drowsiness or
fatigue. I rose and sat by the fire, watching the trees and clouds
tumultuously tossing and fleeing overhead, and hearkening to the
wind and the rollers along the shore; till at length, growing weary
of inaction, I quitted the den, and strolled towards the borders of
the wood. A young moon, buried in mist, gave a faint illumination
to my steps; and the light grew brighter as I walked forth into the
links. At the same moment, the wind, smelling salt of the open
ocean and carrying particles of sand, struck me with its full
force, so that I had to bow my head.

When I raised it again to look about me, I was aware of a light in
the pavilion. It was not stationary; but passed from one window to
another, as though some one were reviewing the different apartments
with a lamp or candle.

I watched it for some seconds in great surprise. When I had
arrived in the afternoon the house had been plainly deserted; now
it was as plainly occupied. It was my first idea that a gang of
thieves might have broken in and be now ransacking Northmour's
cupboards, which were many and not ill supplied. But what should
bring thieves to Graden Easter? And, again, all the shutters had
been thrown open, and it would have been more in the character of
such gentry to close them. I dismissed the notion, and fell back
upon another. Northmour himself must have arrived, and was now
airing and inspecting the pavilion.

I have said that there was no real affection between this man and
me; but, had I loved him like a brother, I was then so much more in
love with solitude that I should none the less have shunned his
company. As it was, I turned and ran for it; and it was with
genuine satisfaction that I found myself safely back beside the
fire. I had escaped an acquaintance; I should have one more night
in comfort. In the morning, I might either slip away before
Northmour was abroad, or pay him as short a visit as I chose.

But when morning came, I thought the situation so diverting that I
forgot my shyness. Northmour was at my mercy; I arranged a good
practical jest, though I knew well that my neighbour was not the
man to jest with in security; and, chuckling beforehand over its
success, took my place among the elders at the edge of the wood,
whence I could command the door of the pavilion. The shutters were
all once more closed, which I remember thinking odd; and the house,
with its white walls and green venetians, looked spruce and
habitable in the morning light. Hour after hour passed, and still
no sign of Northmour. I knew him for a sluggard in the morning;
but, as it drew on towards noon, I lost my patience. To say the
truth, I had promised myself to break my fast in the pavilion, and
hunger began to prick me sharply. It was a pity to let the
opportunity go by without some cause for mirth; but the grosser
appetite prevailed, and I relinquished my jest with regret, and
sallied from the wood.

The appearance of the house affected me, as I drew near, with
disquietude. It seemed unchanged since last evening; and I had
expected it, I scarce knew why, to wear some external signs of
habitation. But no: the windows were all closely shuttered, the
chimneys breathed no smoke, and the front door itself was closely
padlocked. Northmour, therefore, had entered by the back; this was
the natural and, indeed, the necessary conclusion; and you may
judge of my surprise when, on turning the house, I found the back
door similarly secured.

My mind at once reverted to the original theory of thieves; and I
blamed myself sharply for my last night's inaction. I examined all
the windows on the lower storey, but none of them had been tampered
with; I tried the padlocks, but they were both secure. It thus
became a problem how the thieves, if thieves they were, had managed
to enter the house. They must have got, I reasoned, upon the roof
of the outhouse where Northmour used to keep his photographic
battery; and from thence, either by the window of the study or that
of my old bedroom, completed their burglarious entry.

I followed what I supposed was their example; and, getting on the
roof, tried the shutters of each room. Both were secure; but I was
not to be beaten; and, with a little force, one of them flew open,
grazing, as it did so, the back of my hand. I remember, I put the
wound to my mouth, and stood for perhaps half a minute licking it
like a dog, and mechanically gazing behind me over the waste links
and the sea; and, in that space of time, my eye made note of a
large schooner yacht some miles to the north-east. Then I threw up
the window and climbed in.

I went over the house, and nothing can express my mystification.
There was no sign of disorder, but, on the contrary, the rooms were
unusually clean and pleasant. I found fires laid, ready for
lighting; three bedrooms prepared with a luxury quite foreign to
Northmour's habits, and with water in the ewers and the beds turned
down; a table set for three in the dining-room; and an ample supply
of cold meats, game, and vegetables on the pantry shelves. There
were guests expected, that was plain; but why guests, when
Northmour hated society? And, above all, why was the house thus
stealthily prepared at dead of night? and why were the shutters
closed and the doors padlocked?

I effaced all traces of my visit, and came forth from the window
feeling sobered and concerned.

The schooner yacht was still in the same place; and it flashed for
a moment through my mind that this might be the RED EARL bringing
the owner of the pavilion and his guests. But the vessel's head
was set the other way.

CHAPTER II - TELLS OF THE NOCTURNAL LANDING FROM THE YACHT

I returned to the den to cook myself a meal, of which I stood in
great need, as well as to care for my horse, whom I had somewhat
neglected in the morning. From time to time I went down to the
edge of the wood; but there was no change in the pavilion, and not
a human creature was seen all day upon the links. The schooner in
the offing was the one touch of life within my range of vision.
She, apparently with no set object, stood off and on or lay to,
hour after hour; but as the evening deepened, she drew steadily
nearer. I became more convinced that she carried Northmour and his
friends, and that they would probably come ashore after dark; not
only because that was of a piece with the secrecy of the
preparations, but because the tide would not have flowed
sufficiently before eleven to cover Graden Floe and the other sea
quags that fortified the shore against invaders.

All day the wind had been going down, and the sea along with it;
but there was a return towards sunset of the heavy weather of the
day before. The night set in pitch dark. The wind came off the
sea in squalls, like the firing of a battery of cannon; now and
then there was a flaw of rain, and the surf rolled heavier with the
rising tide. I was down at my observatory among the elders, when a
light was run up to the masthead of the schooner, and showed she
was closer in than when I had last seen her by the dying daylight.
I concluded that this must be a signal to Northmour's associates on
shore; and, stepping forth into the links, looked around me for
something in response.

A small footpath ran along the margin of the wood, and formed the
most direct communication between the pavilion and the mansion-
house; and, as I cast my eyes to that side, I saw a spark of light,
not a quarter of a mile away, and rapidly approaching. From its
uneven course it appeared to be the light of a lantern carried by a
person who followed the windings of the path, and was often
staggered and taken aback by the more violent squalls. I concealed
myself once more among the elders, and waited eagerly for the
newcomer's advance. It proved to be a woman; and, as she passed
within half a rod of my ambush, I was able to recognise the
features. The deaf and silent old dame, who had nursed Northmour
in his childhood, was his associate in this underhand affair.

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