Complete Works of Wilkie Collins (1925 page)

“Can you describe the man?”

“Not yet. So far, he is only a shadow in the form of a man.”

There was another interval. An appearance of disturbance showed itself on the sleeper’s face. Suddenly, he waved his free hand in the direction of the waiting-room.

“Send for the visitors who are there,” he said. “They are all to come in. Each one of them is to take one of my hands in turn — while you remain where you are, holding the other hand. Don’t let go of me, even for a moment. My mother will ring.”

Madame Lagarde touched a bell on the table. The servant received his orders from her and retired. After a short absence, he appeared again in the consulting-room, with one visitor only waiting on the threshold behind him.

C
HAPTER IV.

T
HE MAN.

“The other three gentlemen have gone away, madam,” the servant explained, addressing Madame Lagarde. “They were tired of waiting. I found
this
gentleman fast asleep; and I am afraid he is angry with me for taking the liberty of waking him.”

“Sleep of the common sort is evidently not allowed in this house.” With that remark the gentleman entered the room, and stood revealed as the original owner of the card numbered Fourteen.

Viewed by the clear lamplight, he was a tall, finely-made man, in the prime of life, with a florid complexion, golden-brown hair, and sparkling blue eyes. Noticing Madame Lagarde, he instantly checked the flow of his satire, with the instinctive good-breeding of a gentleman. “I beg your pardon,” he said; “I have a great many faults, and a habit of making bad jokes is one of them. Is the servant right, madam, in telling me that I have the honour of presenting myself here at your request?”

Madame Lagarde briefly explained what had passed.

The florid gentleman (still privately believing it to be all “humbug”) was delighted to make himself of any use. “I congratulate you, sir,” he said, with his easy humor, as he passed the visitor who had become possessed of his card. “Number Fourteen seems to be a luckier number in your keeping than it was in mine.”

As he spoke, he took Doctor Lagarde’s disengaged hand. The instant they touched each other the sleeper started. His voice rose; his face flushed. “You are the man!” he exclaimed. “I see you plainly now!”

“What am I doing?”

“You are standing opposite to the gentleman here who is holding my other hand; and (as I have said already) you have met to fight a duel.”

The unbeliever cast a shrewd look at his companion in the consultation.

“Considering that you and I are total strangers, sir,” he said, “don’t you think the Doctor had better introduce us, before he goes any further? We have got to fighting a duel already, and we may as well know who we are, before the pistols go off.” He turned to Doctor Lagarde. “Dramatic situations don’t amuse me out of the theater,” he resumed. “Let me put you to a very commonplace test. I want to be introduced to this gentleman. Has he told you his name?”

“No.”

“Of course, you know it, without being told?”

“Certainly. I have only to look into your own knowledge of yourselves, while I am in this trance, and while you have got my hands, to know both your names as well as you do.”

“Introduce us, then!” retorted the jesting gentleman. “And take my name first.”

“Mr. Percy Linwood,” replied the Doctor; “I have the honour of presenting you to Captain Bervie, of the Artillery.”

With one accord, the gentlemen both dropped Doctor Lagarde’s hands, and looked at each other in blank amazement.

“Of course he has discovered our names somehow!” said Mr. Percy Linwood, explaining the mystery to his own perfect satisfaction in that way.

Captain Bervie had not forgotten what Madame Lagarde had said to him, when he too had suspected a trick. He now repeated it (quite ineffectually) for Mr. Linwood’s benefit. “If you don’t feel the force of that argument as I feel it,” he added, “perhaps, as a favor to me, sir, you will not object to our each taking the Doctor’s hand again, and hearing what more he can tell us while he remains in the state of trance?”

“With the greatest pleasure!” answered good-humored Mr. Linwood. “Our friend is beginning to amuse me; I am as anxious as you are to know what he is going to see next.”

Captain Bervie put the next question.

“You have seen us ready to fight a duel — can you tell us the result?”

“I can tell you nothing more than I have told you already. The figures of the duelists have faded away, like the other figures I saw before them. What I see now looks like the winding gravel-path of a garden. A man and a woman are walking toward me. The man stops, and places a ring on the woman’s finger, and kisses her.”

Captain Bervie opened his lips to continue his inquiries — turned pale — and checked himself. Mr. Linwood put the next question.

“Who is the happy man?” he asked.

“
You
are the happy man,” was the instantaneous reply.

“Who is the woman?” cried Captain Bervie, before Mr. Linwood could speak again.

“The same woman whom I saw before; dressed in the same colour, in pale blue.”

Captain Bervie positively insisted on receiving clearer information than this. “Surely you can see
something
of her personal appearance?” he said.

“I can see that she has long dark-brown hair, falling below her waist. I can see that she has lovely dark-brown eyes. She has the look of a sensitive nervous person. She is quite young. I can see no more.”

“Look again at the man who is putting the ring on her finger,” said the Captain. “Are you sure that the face you see is the face of Mr. Percy Linwood?”

“I am absolutely sure.”

Captain Bervie rose from his chair.

“Thank you, madam,” he said to the Doctor’s mother. “I have heard enough.”

He walked to the door. Mr. Percy Linwood dropped Doctor Lagarde’s hand, and appealed to the retiring Captain with a broad stare of astonishment.

“You don’t really believe this?” he said.

“I only say I have heard enough,” Captain Bervie answered.

Mr. Linwood could hardly fail to see that any further attempt to treat the matter lightly might lead to undesirable results.

“It is difficult to speak seriously of this kind of exhibition,” he resumed quietly. “But I suppose I may mention a mere matter of fact, without meaning or giving offense. The description of the lady, I can positively declare, does not apply in any single particular to any one whom I know.”

Captain Bervie turned round at the door. His patience was in some danger of failing him. Mr. Linwood’s unruffled composure, assisted in its influence by the presence of Madame Lagarde, reminded him of the claims of politeness. He restrained the rash words as they rose to his lips. “You may make new acquaintances, sir,” was all that he said. “
You
have the future before you.”

Upon that, he went out. Percy Linwood waited a little, reflecting on the Captain’s conduct.

Had Doctor Lagarde’s description of the lady accidentally answered the description of a living lady whom Captain Bervie knew? Was he by any chance in love with her? and had the Doctor innocently reminded him that his love was not returned? Assuming this to be likely, was it really possible that he believed in prophetic revelations offered to him under the fantastic influence of a trance? Could any man in the possession of his senses go to those lengths? The Captain’s conduct was simply incomprehensible.

Pondering these questions, Percy decided on returning to his place by the Doctor’s chair. “Of one thing I am certain, at any rate,” he thought to himself. “I’ll see the whole imposture out before I leave the house!”

He took Doctor Lagarde’s hand. “Now, then! what is the next discovery?” he asked.

The sleeper seemed to find some difficulty in answering the question.

“I indistinctly see the man and the woman again,” he said.

“Am I the man still?” Percy inquired.

“No. The man, this time, is the Captain. The woman is agitated by something that he is saying to her. He seems to be trying to persuade her to go away with him. She hesitates. He whispers something in her ear. She yields. He leads her away. The darkness gathers behind them. I look and look, and I can see no more.”

“Shall we wait awhile?” Percy suggested, “and then try again?”

Doctor Lagarde sighed, and reclined in his chair. “My head is heavy,” he said; “my spirits are dull. The darkness baffles me. I have toiled long enough for you. Drop my hand and leave me to rest.”

Hearing those words, Madame Lagarde approached her son’s chair.

“It will be useless, sir, to ask him any more questions to-night,” she said. “He has been weak and nervous all day, and he is worn out by the effort he has made. Pardon me, if I ask you to step aside for a moment, while I give him the repose that he needs.”

She laid her right hand gently on the Doctor’s head, and kept it there for a minute or so. “Are you at rest now?” she asked.

“I am at rest,” he answered, in faint, drowsy tones.

Madame Lagarde returned to Percy. “If you are not yet satisfied,” she said, “my son will be at your service to-morrow evening, sir.”

“Thank you, madam, I have only one more question to ask, and you can no doubt answer it. When your son wakes, will he remember what he has said to Captain Bervie and to myself?”

“My son will be as absolutely ignorant of everything that he has seen, and of everything that he has said in the trance, as if he had been at the other end of the world.”

Percy Linwood swallowed this last outrageous assertion with an effort which he was quite unable to conceal. “Many thanks, madam,” he said; “I wish you good-night.”

Returning to the waiting-room, he noticed the money-box fixed to the table. “These people look poor,” he thought to himself, “and I feel really indebted to them for an amusing evening. Besides, I can afford to be liberal, for I shall certainly never go back.” He dropped a five-pound note into the money-box, and left the house.

Walking toward his club, Percy’s natural serenity of mind was a little troubled by the remembrance of Captain Bervie’s language and conduct. The Captain had interested the young man in spite of himself. His first idea was to write to Bervie, and mention what had happened at the renewed consultation with Doctor Lagarde. On second thoughts, he saw reason to doubt how the Captain might receive such an advance as this, on the part of a stranger. “After all,” Percy decided, “the whole thing is too absurd to be worth thinking about seriously. Neither he nor I are likely to meet again, or to see the Doctor again — and there’s an end of it.”

He never was more mistaken in his life. The end of it was not to come for many a long day yet.

P
ART II. — THE FULFILLMENT.

C
HAPTER V.

T
HE BALLROOM.

WHILE the consultation at Doctor Lagarde’s was still fresh in the memory of the persons present at it, Chance or Destiny, occupied in sowing the seeds for the harvest of the future, discovered as one of its fit instruments a retired military officer named Major Mulvany.

The Major was a smart little man, who persisted in setting up the appearance of youth as a means of hiding the reality of fifty. Being still a bachelor, and being always ready to make himself agreeable, he was generally popular in the society of women. In the ballroom he was a really welcome addition to the company. The German waltz had then been imported into England little more than three years since. The outcry raised against the dance, by persons ski lled in the discovery of latent impropriety, had not yet lost its influence in certain quarters. Men who could waltz were scarce. The Major had successfully grappled with the difficulties of learning the dance in mature life; and the young ladies rewarded him nobly for the effort. That is to say, they took the assumption of youth for granted in the palpable presence of fifty.