Читать книгу Franks: Duellist - Ambrose Pratt - Страница 3

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SATAN, I imagine, may be a contemplative old gentleman endowed with a fund of unlimited good humour and a capacity for tolerance truly astonishing. He is the scapegoat of five continents, the execrated bogey of innumerable religions, the accredited possessor of almost omnipotent powers for working evil, and yet who has ever heard of him doing a mean thing or troubled to prosecute him in a police court? The fact is, I privately believe he does not exist. If he does I should be glad to meet him and take his hand. I feel sure I should find him such a right good fellow as myself, who has perhaps been compelled into diverse false positions by the force of circumstance. Circumstance is your true Demon, and his twin brother is a little black imp called Opportunity.

'That devil Franks,' was the title by which I was most generally misnamed—never, be it understood, to my face. But whispers crept to my ears none the less, and the mirror was often held to my eyes in odd nooks and corners.

When my brother, Lord Devenac, was set upon by poachers and half murdered in his own woods at Devon, quite half of London discerned my hand in the affair, and I am bound to confess my brother shared in this opinion.

When Florence d'Apice so theatrically quaffed that infernal mixture of champagne and prussic acid at Lady Gravesend's ball, there did not lack detractors who scandalised me as the cause of her disaster, because, forsooth, she had singled me out to be the object of her barbaric and most unwelcome devotion. Then when her brother walked me out and my rapier unluckily pricked his jugular (I vow I only intended a petty flesh wound, but my foot slipped), quite half a score of idiots turned unseeing eyes in my direction, and two gentlemen of distinction paid for their discourtesy with their lives before the rest would be reasoned into charity.

It was not my fault that I was forced to live hard by the gaming-tables. Devenac had always refused to allow me a shilling from the day I reached majority, and a man must live in spite of Monsieur Talleyrand's assertion to the contrary. I vow besides that I never once cheated at cards in my life; I have certainly selected the individuals with whom I should play, but should I be discredited because my opponents were usually unskilful? They were not obliged to dice with me; moreover, they could well afford to lose. I have always made it a rule never to play with a poor man. In the first place, the game is not worth the candle; in the second, it is impossible to remain pleased with oneself should one win; and lastly, I have often noticed that if a man be poor enough, that fickle jade Fortune is very apt to smile in his direction. This par-parenthése, but it might be inferred that a world so misinformed as to believe me capable of fratricide, and worse, would not hesitate to brand me as a card-sharp. Why in the name of Judas my contemporaries should have so combined to blacken my character I don't in the least know. I was not unpersonable, my manners were engaging, my conversation elegant (I avoided foul language on principle), and I dressed as well as Prince George himself, in spite of my lack of fixed income. It is even more wonderful that any door in London remained open to me in consideration of the estimation wherein I was held. I can only explain, modestly as may be, that many ladies refused to believe me anything but a maligned innocent. God bless their kind hearts! They at any rate did not err as much as the rest, though that they erred I must confess. Lady Julia Gordon was my patron through all, chiefly, I believe, because she never heard me utter an oath under any circumstances, and she had never seen me drunk, habits which I believe were regarded as demoniacal affectations by her husband and my other male acquaintances.

Elfrida, Duchess of Powers, received me because she did me the honour to prefer my platonic regard to the affection or esteem of all other gentlemen, even including that of the duke, a namby-pamby whipper-snapper who hated me like the devil, but was too much the coward to invite me to walk, in spite of his smouldering jealousy. Lady Betty Primrose invariably welcomed my approach because it amused her to set her friends by the ears, and by this means she achieved her ambition without effort. She, however, took good care that her daughters should not be subjected to my evil influence. The Duchess of B—— occasionally invited me to her routs in order to annoy my brother Devenac, who had offended her. Several other great ladies regarded me kindly, and opened their doors to my advance for purely private reasons, which concern no one but their impressionable selves and me. These memoirs, I might remark, are by no means confessions.

It might be asked why should I trouble to visit at houses where my presence was not welcome to all? My answer to such a question would be double-barrelled. My equivocal position afforded me a peculiar species of cynical amusement; and besides, the house of every leader of society at that time in London possessed its card-room, wherein gambling for high stakes was carried on from dusk to dawn. Sometimes my next day's dinner depended upon the hazard of the game.

After all I enjoyed myself in a fashion. I had the satisfaction of knowing that men wilted before my frown, and paid for their backyard sneers by exaggerated courtesy to my face. True it is that with a pistol ball I could break a wine glass in the stem at fifteen paces, and the memory of Captain Humphrey's fate deterred many from engaging me who fancied their own skill at fence. And yet there were times when I was wretched—times when only an intimate knowledge of the delight wherewith the great majority would acclaim my act prevented me from lodging a bullet in my brain. I lived on in order to spite a world which had utterly failed to appreciate me.

It was thus with me on the dawn of my forty-third birthday. I awoke with a racking headache and the knowledge that I owed Lord Francis Eveston the sum of six hundred pounds, lost to him at écarté the previous night. By the light of a penny dip I ransacked my possessions and discovered, after a laborious search, the sum of three shillings and sevenpence. I had quitted the card-room airily enough, and I am bound to say promised Lord Francis to pay him the money by noon next day. And now the morrow had arrived. My position was desperate enough. I had not a ha'porth of credit in all London, and by no means that I could discover did it appear possible to transform three shillings and sevenpence into six hundred pounds. And the money had to be found. I had never had such a stroke of bad luck. Eveston was such a fool, too, he scarcely knew one card from another. The devil had surely given him his brilliant hands. I heartily cursed cards, luck, Eveston and myself, then kicked my lackey in the ribs until he awoke. 'It isn't daylight, my lord,' he grumbled sleepily.

I administered another kick, which reduced him to servility. 'Load one of my silver-handled pistols at once,' I commanded.

Richards evidently scented a meeting. He bustled about with sudden brightness, and in a few minutes had everything prepared. 'Who is it this time, my lord?' he queried curiously.

'Myself,' I answered grimly.

Richards appeared surprised. 'Eh! what, my lord?' he stammered.

'I am about to shoot myself,' I observed, taking up the pistol as I spoke.

'Your lordship is pleased to amuse himself with me,' said Richards, with pained dignity.

I smiled. 'No, my man, my time has come at last. I don't mind telling you, Richards, I owe Lord Francis Eveston six hundred pounds. I have promised to pay him by noon to-day. To meet his claim I have exactly three shillings and sevenpence. Under the circumstances, what is left for me to do?'

Richards shuddered, and watched me out of the corners of his eyes. 'I would bolt to furrun parts, my lord,' he suggested nervously.

'How much do I owe you, Richards?' I asked, contemptuously regarding this advice.

'Fifteen pounds, my lord.'

'You may have my pistols for the debt afterwards; they will sell for that.'

Richards commenced to blub. 'D-don't kill yourself, my l-lord,' he entreated. 'What would Her Grace say?'

'Damn Her Grace!' I commented.

'What would Lady Betty say?'

'Damn Lady Betty!'

'What will I do without you?' Here the poor fellow fairly sobbed aloud. He was country bred—Richards—and I had never succeeded in kicking the heart out of him. I confess his tears touched me; they evidenced genuine affection, for by no stretch of imagination could I consider myself a good master to the lad.

'You fool,' I said roughly, 'you will get along a great deal better without me.' I considered here the advisability of giving the boy some good advice. 'See here, Richards,' I went on presently,'a word with you. You are growing in years now (he was two years my junior) and after my death you will be thrown upon the world. You have always appeared to be a fool, but you have one virtue—obedience. I am giving you final orders, look to it you obey them. Never have anything to do with women, especially with married women; they play the devil with a man. If you feel yourself too utterly weak to follow my advice, marry some big, fat wench strong enough to keep you in order; it's better to be married than damned, as the Bible teaches us. Secondly, never dice nor play cards. That's a habit that generally leads to either gaol or destruction. Thirdly, cheat each master you have according to your opportunities. In that case you will rarely be short in your wages, whatever happens.' I felt quite a glow of satisfaction steal over me in delivering such virtuous counsel. Truly virtue is its own reward. I had never been quite so disinterested before. 'Now, Richards,' I pursued, 'you had better retire to the next room. I presume you would not care to watch my dissolution.'

Richards raised a tear-wet face to my inspection.

'Don't do it yet, for Gawd's sake, sir!' he gasped.

'Why not, Richards?'

'There's no occasion,' pleaded the lad. 'You needn't, you know, not before noon—you said noon,' he cried. 'Let me get you some breakfast—I've got some bones—for Gawd's sake, sir!'

I reflected. True, there was no occasion for absolute hurry, and then—bones! Richards was a master at grilling bones. In fact, his skill in this direction amounted to positive genius. I discovered that I was hungry.

'Very well, Richards,' I assented with affected reluctance, 'get breakfast; meanwhile, I shall sleep. Call me at ten.'

I am proud to be able to truthfully record that the moment I laid head on pillow I slept profoundly. So much did the fear of certain death distract my nerves. I was awakened by the tramp of feet in my apartment.

'Richards with the bones,' I thought, and sleepily glanced at the timepiece. It was just ten.

'So you contemplate suicide,' suddenly observed a calm, deep voice that filled the room with a rich, throbbing music. I started up amazed. Two paces off there stood regarding me a tall, elegantly-attired gentleman whom I had never seen before. He was singularly handsome, having magnificent brown eyes, which, however, were cold and cynical, and was clean shaved, save for a pair of sweeping black moustaches. From his fob dangled a small ivory skull perfectly carved, and it was the more noticeable because his dress was, save for that one spot of colour, entirely sombre.

'May I inquire your name and the reason of your intrusion?' I asked politely, for I was very angry, and when I am angry I am invariably most courteous.

'My name is Messidor—Carne Messidor; I intrude' (he shrugged his shoulders) 'because your servant stopped me in the street and begged me to accompany him here to prevent the committal of a foolish deed.'

'I beg your pardon,' I retorted sweetly, 'I have never contemplated a deed of greater wisdom; but permit me to make excuses, you have me at a disadvantage.'

'On the contrary, at advantage,' corrected my visitor, pointing gravely at my bare arms. (I was almost nude.) 'Your hair, unpowdered, is of a very handsome colour, your face is in unison, perhaps too beautiful, too finely chiselled, for a man, but the chin redeems it from effeminacy. And then that chest! those arms! My dear sir, you are a veritable Hercules.'

I blushed—I confess it, I blushed with pleasure.

'I am delighted to make your acquaintance,' I cried. 'I feel grieved that circumstances forbid me a substantial use of it.'

My visitor shrugged his shoulders with a foreign gesture, which, more than anything about him, was exasperating.

'Then your servant was not lying?' he inquired.

'If he told you that at noon I intend to shoot myself,' I responded lightly, 'he confined himself to a statement of fact.'

'Ah, but why? Surely a debt of so paltry an amount as six hundred pounds—you appear a gentleman of distinction—surely your friends——'

'I am Lord Caryl Franks,' I answered drily. 'That information should also acquaint you with the reason that I have not a friend in the world.'

Messidor bowed low. 'I am deeply pleased to have the honour of meeting you, Lord Caryl, while inexpressibly grieved to find you in such a circumstance. I am again much pleased that it is within my power to relieve your difficulty, and yet again grieved and desolate that I unhappily cannot help you without previously exacting a condition.'

His words gave me a sudden hope, for I must confess the prospect of blowing out my brains by way of post-prandial exercise did not please me.

'You are very kind,' I murmured, 'and this condition?'

Mr. Messidor appeared to reflect, and during his meditation he eyed me with a glance that seemed to search and pry into the very bottom of my heart. At last he took from his pocket a small sheet of parchment, which he unfolded and placed before me.

'Read that,' he commanded.

I read and found the document to be a printed oath of allegiance to His Majesty Napoleon, Emperor of France. I glanced up and met the eyes of Messidor fixed inquiringly upon me. 'Well?' he said.

'Well?' said I.

'I require you to subscribe your name to that document,' said monsieur, whom I now decided must certainly be a Frenchman.

'And doubtless take the oath therein prescribed,' I suggested.

'Undoubtedly.'

'In which case?'

'In which case,' said Messidor, 'I shall have much pleasure in advancing you the sum of a thousand pounds.'

The bait was tempting, but I did not hesitate.

'I refuse,' I said.

'Come, come,' said monsieur, 'a thousand pounds would be very useful to you just now.'

'I do not deny it, but you ask too much in return.'

'You mean that I do not offer enough. Let us say two thousand pounds.'

'I cannot be bought, monsieur.'

Messidor again shrugged his shoulders. 'Let me confess you are not unknown to me; your name was mentioned to me before my arrival here, and your antecedents. I know that in men's mouths your name is odious, but in the case of the other sex the reverse obtains, and pardon me, milord, having seen you I cannot wonder at that; the wonder would exist if it were otherwise. With you I have been given discretionary powers. Join me, my lord, and your fortune is assured; my Emperor will take your future into his special care. Within a month he will land in England with a vast and unconquerable army; pouf! the month after that and your England will be a province of France, as it was seven centuries ago. Nothing can avert the march of the man of destiny, nothing can alter his intention; already a vast army stands awaiting his orders to embark; already a great fleet is prepared to bring his troops across; already I have approached a number of your peers, who are waiting with anxious hearts to greet the great Emperor. This oath of allegiance I now ask you to sign has been subscribed by members of your own Government, by members of your Church and State. I offer you the chance of a lifetime—it were madness on your part to refuse. I will, however, be entirely frank with you. You can do the great cause a more intimate service than other men, and for that reason I am empowered to offer you the greatest advantages. You shall be created a duke, with estates both in France and England, and in the meantime a pension will be granted you of a thousand pounds a month. In exchange you will be merely required to use your influence with the members of the gentle sex, the belles dames of your acquaintance, to inspire in their hearts an admiration, even a tolerance of the great Napoleon. The Emperor, the master of all the most subtle secrets of the universe, knows that the world is governed less by the mind of man than by the heart of woman, and he is prepared to richly reward those who by the kindness of Providence are in a position to assist his cause in this direction. More especially I am desirous you should gain to our side the Duchess of Powers, for the will of her husband is her will, and his widespread political influence once cast in our favour will henceforth determine much. He has been approached by my agents and is at present wavering. I depend upon you to complete his conversion—by the method I have indicated. You perceive I conceal nothing from you. And now, milord, your answer?'

I listened to this amazing speech with the profoundest interest, unable to move or protest, so much overcome was I with surprise at the information disclosed and the astounding insolence of the concluding proposition.

'According to you,' I gasped at last, 'there is a widespread conspiracy on foot to betray England to your Emperor.'

'I would not use the word "betray,"' murmured Messidor; 'each of your countrymen who has joined us is in the truest sense a patriot, in that each desires ardently the best good for his country, and is convinced that such will only arrive under the glorious auspices of the great Emperor.'

'Words! words!' I cried hoarsely; 'they are damned traitors every one!'

Messidor started back abruptly. 'What!' he cried. 'Nom de diable, you—you——'

I sprang to the floor and faced him. 'Who are the men who have joined you?' I demanded.

He frowned darkly and put his hand beneath his cloak. 'Your answer first,' he growled.

'There is my answer,' I cried, and dashed my fist in his face.

He fell to the floor, but even as he fell a bullet grazed my temple and I staggered back half stunned. In a second he was up and at my throat, but I grappled with him, and in the nick of time caught his right hand, which held an ugly-looking knife.

The door burst open, and Richards, trembling and white-faced, entered. Seeing the encounter the fool evidently imagined Messidor was attempting to prevent me from committing suicide, for instead of coming to my assistance he rushed to help the Frenchman, and actually tried to pinion my arms. However, Messidor did not know that, but thinking the reinforcement might be on my side, he wriggled like an eel from my grasp and fled to the door. With monstrous effort I threw myself upon him, swinging Richards off his feet, but the fool encumbered me with his weight, I fell short, and all I grasped was the skull which dangled from the Frenchman's fob. The door slammed in my face, and I sank down beside it, covered with blood and half fainting.

'Good Gawd! good Gawd!' howled Richards. 'Say you are not dead, my lord, say you are not dead.'

'I'll show whether I am dead or not, you idiot!' I growled, for the fool's emotion aroused me. I staggered to my feet, determined to inflict sound and memorable punishment, but as I raised my hand I saw for the first time the skull which I still clutched by the riband. At the other end of the riband swung a small case of green leather stamped back and front with a solitary golden bee. I paused, hesitated, investigated.

Within this case, which chanced to be a purse reposed English Treasury notes to the value of ten thousand pounds. Instead of beating Richards—and well the fool deserved exemplary castigation—I was magnanimous enough under the circumstances to embrace him.