The Project Gutenberg Etext of New Arabian Nights

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A servant-maid of some personal attractions immediately opened the
door, and seemed to regard the secretary with no unkind eyes.

"This is the parcel from Lady Vandeleur," said Harry.

"I know," replied the maid, with a nod. "But the gentleman is from
home. Will you leave it with me?"

"I cannot," answered Harry. "I am directed not to part with it but
upon a certain condition, and I must ask you, I am afraid, to let
me wait."

"Well," said she, "I suppose I may let you wait. I am lonely
enough, I can tell you, and you do not look as though you would eat
a girl. But be sure and do not ask the gentleman's name, for that
I am not to tell you."

"Do you say so?" cried Harry. "Why, how strange! But indeed for
some time back I walk among surprises. One question I think I may
surely ask without indiscretion: Is he the master of this house?"

"He is a lodger, and not eight days old at that," returned the
maid. "And now a question for a question: Do you know lady
Vandeleur?"

"I am her private secretary," replied Harry with a glow of modest
pride.

"She is pretty, is she not?" pursued the servant.

"Oh, beautiful!" cried Harry; "wonderfully lovely, and not less
good and kind!"

"You look kind enough yourself," she retorted; "and I wager you are
worth a dozen Lady Vandeleurs."

Harry was properly scandalised.

"I!" he cried. "I am only a secretary!"

"Do you mean that for me?" said the girl. "Because I am only a
housemaid, if you please." And then, relenting at the sight of
Harry's obvious confusion, "I know you mean nothing of the sort,"
she added; "and I like your looks; but I think nothing of your Lady
Vandeleur. Oh, these mistresses!" she cried. "To send out a real
gentleman like you - with a bandbox - in broad day!"

During this talk they had remained in their original positions -
she on the doorstep, he on the side-walk, bareheaded for the sake
of coolness, and with the bandbox on his arm. But upon this last
speech Harry, who was unable to support such point-blank
compliments to his appearance, nor the encouraging look with which
they were accompanied, began to change his attitude, and glance
from left to right in perturbation. In so doing he turned his face
towards the lower end of the lane, and there, to his indescribable
dismay, his eyes encountered those of General Vandeleur. The
General, in a prodigious fluster of heat, hurry, and indignation,
had been scouring the streets in chase of his brother-in-law; but
so soon as he caught a glimpse of the delinquent secretary, his
purpose changed, his anger flowed into a new channel, and he turned
on his heel and came tearing up the lane with truculent gestures
and vociferations.

Harry made but one bolt of it into the house, driving the maid
before him; and the door was slammed in his pursuer's countenance.

"Is there a bar? Will it lock?" asked Harry, while a salvo on the
knocker made the house echo from wall to wall.

"Why, what is wrong with you?" asked the maid. "Is it this old
gentleman?"

"If he gets hold of me," whispered Harry, "I am as good as dead.
He has been pursuing me all day, carries a sword-stick, and is an
Indian military officer."

"These are fine manners," cried the maid. "And what, if you
please, may be his name?"

"It is the General, my master," answered Harry. "He is after this
bandbox."

"Did not I tell you?" cried the maid in triumph. "I told you I
thought worse than nothing of your Lady Vandeleur; and if you had
an eye in your head you might see what she is for yourself. An
ungrateful minx, I will be bound for that!"

The General renewed his attack upon the knocker, and his passion
growing with delay, began to kick and beat upon the panels of the
door.

"It is lucky," observed the girl, "that I am alone in the house;
your General may hammer until he is weary, and there is none to
open for him. Follow me!"

So saying she led Harry into the kitchen, where she made him sit
down, and stood by him herself in an affectionate attitude, with a
hand upon his shoulder. The din at the door, so far from abating,
continued to increase in volume, and at each blow the unhappy
secretary was shaken to the heart.

"What is your name?" asked the girl.

"Harry Hartley," he replied.

"Mine," she went on, "is Prudence. Do you like it?"

"Very much," said Harry. "But hear for a moment how the General
beats upon the door. He will certainly break it in, and then, in
heaven's name, what have I to look for but death?"

"You put yourself very much about with no occasion," answered
Prudence. "Let your General knock, he will do no more than blister
his hands. Do you think I would keep you here if I were not sure
to save you? Oh, no, I am a good friend to those that please me!
and we have a back door upon another lane. But," she added,
checking him, for he had got upon his feet immediately on this
welcome news, "but I will not show where it is unless you kiss me.
Will you, Harry?"

"That I will," he cried, remembering his gallantry, "not for your
back door, but because you are good and pretty."

And he administered two or three cordial salutes, which were
returned to him in kind.

Then Prudence led him to the back gate, and put her hand upon the
key.

"Will you come and see me?" she asked.

"I will indeed," said Harry. "Do not I owe you my life?"

"And now," she added, opening the door, "run as hard as you can,
for I shall let in the General."

Harry scarcely required this advice; fear had him by the forelock;
and he addressed himself diligently to flight. A few steps, and he
believed he would escape from his trials, and return to Lady
Vandeleur in honour and safety. But these few steps had not been
taken before he heard a man's voice hailing him by name with many
execrations, and, looking over his shoulder, he beheld Charlie
Pendragon waving him with both arms to return. The shock of this
new incident was so sudden and profound, and Harry was already
worked into so high a state of nervous tension, that he could think
of nothing better than to accelerate his pace, and continue
running. He should certainly have remembered the scene in
Kensington Gardens; he should certainly have concluded that, where
the General was his enemy, Charlie Pendragon could be no other than
a friend. But such was the fever and perturbation of his mind that
he was struck by none of these considerations, and only continued
to run the faster up the lane.

Charlie, by the sound of his voice and the vile terms that he
hurled after the secretary, was obviously beside himself with rage.
He, too, ran his very best; but, try as he might, the physical
advantages were not upon his side, and his outcries and the fall of
his lame foot on the macadam began to fall farther and farther into
the wake.

Harry's hopes began once more to arise. The lane was both steep
and narrow, but it was exceedingly solitary, bordered on either
hand by garden walls, overhung with foliage; and, for as far as the
fugitive could see in front of him, there was neither a creature
moving nor an open door. Providence, weary of persecution, was now
offering him an open field for his escape.

Alas! as he came abreast of a garden door under a tuft of
chestnuts, it was suddenly drawn back, and he could see inside,
upon a garden path, the figure of a butcher's boy with his tray
upon his arm. He had hardly recognised the fact before he was some
steps beyond upon the other side. But the fellow had had time to
observe him; he was evidently much surprised to see a gentleman go
by at so unusual a pace; and he came out into the lane and began to
call after Harry with shouts of ironical encouragement.

His appearance gave a new idea to Charlie Pendragon, who, although
he was now sadly out of breath, once more upraised his voice.

"Stop, thief!" he cried.

And immediately the butcher's boy had taken up the cry and joined
in the pursuit.

This was a bitter moment for the hunted secretary. It is true that
his terror enabled him once more to improve his pace, and gain with
every step on his pursuers; but he was well aware that he was near
the end of his resources, and should he meet any one coming the
other way, his predicament in the narrow lane would be desperate
indeed.

"I must find a place of concealment," he thought, "and that within
the next few seconds, or all is over with me in this world."

Scarcely had the thought crossed his mind than the lane took a
sudden turning; and he found himself hidden from his enemies.
There are circumstances in which even the least energetic of
mankind learn to behave with vigour and decision; and the most
cautious forget their prudence and embrace foolhardy resolutions.
This was one of those occasions for Harry Hartley; and those who
knew him best would have been the most astonished at the lad's
audacity. He stopped dead, flung the bandbox over a garden wall,
and leaping upward with incredible agility and seizing the
copestone with his hands, he tumbled headlong after it into the
garden.

He came to himself a moment afterwards, seated in a border of small
rosebushes. His hands and knees were cut and bleeding, for the
wall had been protected against such an escalade by a liberal
provision of old bottles; and he was conscious of a general
dislocation and a painful swimming in the head. Facing him across
the garden, which was in admirable order, and set with flowers of
the most delicious perfume, he beheld the back of a house. It was
of considerable extent, and plainly habitable; but, in odd contrast
to the grounds, it was crazy, ill-kept, and of a mean appearance.
On all other sides the circuit of the garden wall appeared
unbroken.

He took in these features of the scene with mechanical glances, but
his mind was still unable to piece together or draw a rational
conclusion from what he saw. And when he heard footsteps advancing
on the gravel, although he turned his eyes in that direction, it
was with no thought either for defence or flight.

The new-comer was a large, coarse, and very sordid personage, in
gardening clothes, and with a watering-pot in his left hand. One
less confused would have been affected with some alarm at the sight
of this man's huge proportions and black and lowering eyes. But
Harry was too gravely shaken by his fall to be so much as
terrified; and if he was unable to divert his glances from the
gardener, he remained absolutely passive, and suffered him to draw
near, to take him by the shoulder, and to plant him roughly on his
feet, without a motion of resistance.

For a moment the two stared into each other's eyes, Harry
fascinated, the man filled with wrath and a cruel, sneering humour.

"Who are you?" he demanded at last. "Who are you to come flying
over my wall and break my GLOIRE DE DIJONS! What is your name?" he
added, shaking him; "and what may be your business here?"

Harry could not as much as proffer a word in explanation.

But just at that moment Pendragon and the butcher's boy went
clumping past, and the sound of their feet and their hoarse cries
echoed loudly in the narrow lane. The gardener had received his
answer; and he looked down into Harry's face with an obnoxious
smile.

"A thief!" he said. "Upon my word, and a very good thing you must
make of it; for I see you dressed like a gentleman from top to toe.
Are you not ashamed to go about the world in such a trim, with
honest folk, I dare say, glad to buy your cast-off finery second
hand? Speak up, you dog," the man went on; "you can understand
English, I suppose; and I mean to have a bit of talk with you
before I march you to the station."

"Indeed, sir," said Harry, "this is all a dreadful misconception;
and if you will go with me to Sir Thomas Vandeleur's in Eaton
Place, I can promise that all will be made plain. The most upright
person, as I now perceive, can be led into suspicious positions."

"My little man," replied the gardener, "I will go with you no
farther than the station-house in the next street. The inspector,
no doubt, will be glad to take a stroll with you as far as Eaton
Place, and have a bit of afternoon tea with your great
acquaintances. Or would you prefer to go direct to the Home
Secretary? Sir Thomas Vandeleur, indeed! Perhaps you think I
don't know a gentleman when I see one, from a common run-the-hedge
like you? Clothes or no clothes, I can read you like a book. Here
is a shirt that maybe cost as much as my Sunday hat; and that coat,
I take it, has never seen the inside of Rag-fair, and then your
boots - "

The man, whose eyes had fallen upon the ground, stopped short in
his insulting commentary, and remained for a moment looking
intently upon something at his feet. When he spoke his voice was
strangely altered.

"What, in God's name," said he, "is all this?"

Harry, following the direction of the man's eyes, beheld a
spectacle that struck him dumb with terror and amazement. In his
fall he had descended vertically upon the bandbox and burst it open
from end to end; thence a great treasure of diamonds had poured
forth, and now lay abroad, part trodden in the soil, part scattered
on the surface in regal and glittering profusion. There was a
magnificent coronet which he had often admired on Lady Vandeleur;
there were rings and brooches, ear-drops and bracelets, and even
unset brilliants rolling here and there among the rosebushes like
drops of morning dew. A princely fortune lay between the two men
upon the ground - a fortune in the most inviting, solid, and
durable form, capable of being carried in an apron, beautiful in
itself, and scattering the sunlight in a million rainbow flashes.

"Good God!" said Harry, "I am lost!"

His mind raced backwards into the past with the incalculable
velocity of thought, and he began to comprehend his day's
adventures, to conceive them as a whole, and to recognise the sad
imbroglio in which his own character and fortunes had become
involved. He looked round him as if for help, but he was alone in
the garden, with his scattered diamonds and his redoubtable
interlocutor; and when he gave ear, there was no sound but the
rustle of the leaves and the hurried pulsation of his heart. It
was little wonder if the young man felt himself deserted by his
spirits, and with a broken voice repeated his last ejaculation - "I
am lost!"

The gardener peered in all directions with an air of guilt; but
there was no face at any of the windows, and he seemed to breathe
again.

"Pick up a heart," he said, "you fool! The worst of it is done.
Why could you not say at first there was enough for two? Two?" he
repeated, "aye, and for two hundred! But come away from here,
where we may be observed; and, for the love of wisdom, straighten
out your hat and brush your clothes. You could not travel two
steps the figure of fun you look just now."

While Harry mechanically adopted these suggestions, the gardener,
getting upon his knees, hastily drew together the scattered jewels
and returned them to the bandbox. The touch of these costly
crystals sent a shiver of emotion through the man's stalwart frame;
his face was transfigured, and his eyes shone with concupiscence;
indeed it seemed as if he luxuriously prolonged his occupation, and
dallied with every diamond that he handled. At last, however, it
was done; and, concealing the bandbox in his smock, the gardener
beckoned to Harry and preceded him in the direction of the house.

Near the door they were met by a young man evidently in holy
orders, dark and strikingly handsome, with a look of mingled
weakness and resolution, and very neatly attired after the manner
of his caste. The gardener was plainly annoyed by this encounter;
but he put as good a face upon it as he could, and accosted the
clergyman with an obsequious and smiling air.

"Here is a fine afternoon, Mr. Rolles," said he: "a fine
afternoon, as sure as God made it! And here is a young friend of
mine who had a fancy to look at my roses. I took the liberty to
bring him in, for I thought none of the lodgers would object."

"Speaking for myself," replied the Reverend Mr. Rolles, "I do not;
nor do I fancy any of the rest of us would be more difficult upon
so small a matter. The garden is your own, Mr. Raeburn; we must
none of us forget that; and because you give us liberty to walk
there we should be indeed ungracious if we so far presumed upon
your politeness as to interfere with the convenience of your
friends. But, on second thoughts," he added, "I believe that this
gentleman and I have met before. Mr. Hartley, I think. I regret
to observe that you have had a fall."

And he offered his hand.

A sort of maiden dignity and a desire to delay as long as possible
the necessity for explanation moved Harry to refuse this chance of
help, and to deny his own identity. He chose the tender mercies of
the gardener, who was at least unknown to him, rather than the
curiosity and perhaps the doubts of an acquaintance.

"I fear there is some mistake," said he. "My name is Thomlinson
and I am a friend of Mr. Raeburn's."

"Indeed?" said Mr. Rolles. "The likeness is amazing."

Mr. Raeburn, who had been upon thorns throughout this colloquy, now
felt it high time to bring it to a period.

"I wish you a pleasant saunter, sir," said he.

And with that he dragged Harry after him into the house, and then
into a chamber on the garden. His first care was to draw down the
blind, for Mr. Rolles still remained where they had left him, in an
attitude of perplexity and thought. Then he emptied the broken
bandbox on the table, and stood before the treasure, thus fully
displayed, with an expression of rapturous greed, and rubbing his
hands upon his thighs. For Harry, the sight of the man's face
under the influence of this base emotion, added another pang to
those he was already suffering. It seemed incredible that, from
his life of pure and delicate trifling, he should be plunged in a
breath among sordid and criminal relations. He could reproach his
conscience with no sinful act; and yet he was now suffering the
punishment of sin in its most acute and cruel forms - the dread of
punishment, the suspicions of the good, and the companionship and
contamination of vile and brutal natures. He felt he could lay his
life down with gladness to escape from the room and the society of
Mr. Raeburn.

"And now," said the latter, after he had separated the jewels into
two nearly equal parts, and drawn one of them nearer to himself;
"and now," said he, "everything in this world has to be paid for,
and some things sweetly. You must know, Mr. Hartley, if such be
your name, that I am a man of a very easy temper, and good nature
has been my stumbling-block from first to last. I could pocket the
whole of these pretty pebbles, if I chose, and I should like to see
you dare to say a word; but I think I must have taken a liking to
you; for I declare I have not the heart to shave you so close. So,
do you see, in pure kind feeling, I propose that we divide; and
these," indicating the two heaps, "are the proportions that seem to
me just and friendly. Do you see any objection, Mr. Hartley, may I
ask? I am not the man to stick upon a brooch."

"But, sir," cried Harry, "what you propose to me is impossible.
The jewels are not mine, and I cannot share what is another's, no
matter with whom, nor in what proportions."

"They are not yours, are they not?" returned Raeburn. "And you
could not share them with anybody, couldn't you? Well now, that is
what I call a pity; for here am I obliged to take you to the
station. The police - think of that," he continued; "think of the
disgrace for your respectable parents; think," he went on, taking
Harry by the wrist; "think of the Colonies and the Day of
Judgment."

"I cannot help it," wailed Harry. "It is not my fault. You will
not come with me to Eaton Place?"

"No," replied the man, "I will not, that is certain. And I mean to
divide these playthings with you here."

And so saying he applied a sudden and severe torsion to the lad's
wrist.

Harry could not suppress a scream, and the perspiration burst forth
upon his face. Perhaps pain and terror quickened his intelligence,
but certainly at that moment the whole business flashed across him
in another light; and he saw that there was nothing for it but to
accede to the ruffian's proposal, and trust to find the house and
force him to disgorge, under more favourable circumstances, and
when he himself was clear from all suspicion.

"I agree," he said.

"There is a lamb," sneered the gardener. "I thought you would
recognise your interests at last. This bandbox," he continued, "I
shall burn with my rubbish; it is a thing that curious folk might
recognise; and as for you, scrape up your gaieties and put them in
your pocket."

Harry proceeded to obey, Raeburn watching him, and every now and
again his greed rekindled by some bright scintillation, abstracting
another jewel from the secretary's share, and adding it to his own.

When this was finished, both proceeded to the front door, which
Raeburn cautiously opened to observe the street. This was
apparently clear of passengers; for he suddenly seized Harry by the
nape of the neck, and holding his face downward so that he could
see nothing but the roadway and the doorsteps of the houses, pushed
him violently before him down one street and up another for the
space of perhaps a minute and a half. Harry had counted three
corners before the bully relaxed his grasp, and crying, "Now be off
with you!" sent the lad flying head foremost with a well-directed
and athletic kick.

When Harry gathered himself up, half-stunned and bleeding freely at
the nose, Mr. Raeburn had entirely disappeared. For the first
time, anger and pain so completely overcame the lad's spirits that
he burst into a fit of tears and remained sobbing in the middle of
the road.

After he had thus somewhat assuaged his emotion, he began to look
about him and read the names of the streets at whose intersection
he had been deserted by the gardener. He was still in an
unfrequented portion of West London, among villas and large
gardens; but he could see some persons at a window who had
evidently witnessed his misfortune; and almost immediately after a
servant came running from the house and offered him a glass of
water. At the same time, a dirty rogue, who had been slouching
somewhere in the neighbourhood, drew near him from the other side.

"Poor fellow," said the maid, "how vilely you have been handled, to
be sure! Why, your knees are all cut, and your clothes ruined! Do
you know the wretch who used you so?"

"That I do!" cried Harry, who was somewhat refreshed by the water;
"and shall run him home in spite of his precautions. He shall pay
dearly for this day's work, I promise you."

"You had better come into the house and have yourself washed and
brushed," continued the maid. "My mistress will make you welcome,
never fear. And see, I will pick up your hat. Why, love of
mercy!" she screamed, "if you have not dropped diamonds all over
the street!"

Such was the case; a good half of what remained to him after the
depredations of Mr. Raeburn, had been shaken out of his pockets by
the summersault and once more lay glittering on the ground. He
blessed his fortune that the maid had been so quick of eye; "there
is nothing so bad but it might be worse," thought he; and the
recovery of these few seemed to him almost as great an affair as
the loss of all the rest. But, alas! as he stooped to pick up his
treasures, the loiterer made a rapid onslaught, overset both Harry
and the maid with a movement of his arms, swept up a double handful
of the diamonds, and made off along the street with an amazing
swiftness.

Harry, as soon as he could get upon his feet, gave chase to the
miscreant with many cries, but the latter was too fleet of foot,
and probably too well acquainted with the locality; for turn where
the pursuer would he could find no traces of the fugitive.

In the deepest despondency, Harry revisited the scene of his
mishap, where the maid, who was still waiting, very honestly
returned him his hat and the remainder of the fallen diamonds.
Harry thanked her from his heart, and being now in no humour for
economy, made his way to the nearest cab-stand and set off for
Eaton Place by coach.

The house, on his arrival, seemed in some confusion, as if a
catastrophe had happened in the family; and the servants clustered
together in the hall, and were unable, or perhaps not altogether
anxious, to suppress their merriment at the tatterdemalion figure
of the secretary. He passed them with as good an air of dignity as
he could assume, and made directly for the boudoir. When he opened
the door an astonishing and even menacing spectacle presented
itself to his eyes; for he beheld the General and his wife and, of
all people, Charlie Pendragon, closeted together and speaking with
earnestness and gravity on some important subject. Harry saw at
once that there was little left for him to explain - plenary
confession had plainly been made to the General of the intended
fraud upon his pocket, and the unfortunate miscarriage of the
scheme; and they had all made common cause against a common danger.

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