Complete Works of Wilkie Collins (1996 page)

Mag.
I have neither time nor inclination to hear more.

(
She again attempts to go out.
WRAGGE
again stops her.
)

Wragge.
Perhaps you object to the tent? Permit me to escort you, by the back way, to the house. There are refreshments to be had at the house.

Mag.
(
sternly
). I neither eat nor drink in Michael Vanstone’s house!

Wragge.
In whose?

Mag.
In Michael Vanstone’s.

Wragge.
Bless my soul! Don’t you know that Michael Vanstone is dead?

Mag.
(
starting back
). Dead?

Wragge.
More than two months since.

Mag.
(
to herself
). Dead!

(
She leaves
WRAGGE
and walks apart, absorbed in her own thoughts.
)

Wragge
(
aside
). Nota bene. She wanted something of Michael Vanstone! Query — Does she want that same something now of Michael Vanstone’s son? (
He approaches
MAGDALEN.) Cheer up! The family is not extinct. Michael Vanstone has left a son — Mr. Noel Vanstone — the present possessor of this house and park.

Mag.
(
turning on him suddenly
). Who has the money gone to?

Wragge.
To Noel Vanstone.

Mag.
All of it?

Wragge.
Every farthing. (MAGDALEN
walks away again, once more deep in thought.
WRAGGE
continues, aside.
) My right hand lays my left hand a wager. Mr. Michael Vanstone’s death has left more than Mr. Michael Vanstone bargained for to be inherited by his son!

Mag.
(
returning
). Do you know anything about Noel Vanstone?

Wragge.
Everything.

Mag.
Are you a friend of his?

Wragge.
I am personally a total stranger to him.

Mag.
And yet you know all about him?

Wragge.
Come and sit down. (MAGDALEN
seats herself on the bench.
WRAGGE
continues aside as he follows her.
) She has sat down at last! I’m her confidential friend from this moment.

(
He seats himself opposite to
MAGDALEN
on a rustic stool.
)

Mag.
Explain yourself.

Wragge.
Permit me to revert to my profession.

Mag.
To swindling?

Wragge.
To Moral Agriculture.

Mag.
Is it necessary?

Wragge.
Absolutely necessary, if I am to explain myself.

Mag.
Go on.

Wragge.
I don’t boast — I simply state a fact. It is my nature to be orderly — and orderly I am. I place Moral Agriculture on precisely the same footing as any other business. I put it all down in black and white. Like other commercial men, I have my books. Take a specimen of the system — and judge for yourself if I don’t see through Noel Vanstone to the marrow of his bones. In Book number One I have all my districts mapped out — Military district, Agricultural district, Clerical district, et cetera, et cetera. In Book number Two are the cases that I plead: Family of an officer who fell in the Crimea; Wife of a poor curate stricken down by nervous debility; Widow of a grazier in difficulties, gored to death by a mad bull, et cetera, et cetera. In Book number Three are the people who have heard of the officer’s family, the curate’s wife, and the grazier’s widow, and the people who have not; the people who have said Yes, and the people who have said No; the people to try again; the people to beware of, et cetera, et cetera. In Book number Four are my adopted handwritings of public characters; my testimonials to my own worth and integrity; my heartrending statements of the officer’s family, the curate’s wife, the grazier’s widow, stained with tears, blotted with emotion, et cetera, et cetera. — I put it frankly, with a dash of humour. I’m not in the least out of breath. I’ll go on again, if you like, with the greatest pleasure.

Mag.
I have heard. enough of you and your books. I want to hear something of Noel Vanstone.

Wragge.
Briefly?

Mag.
If you
can.

Wragge.
If I can? I see. Your impatience despises details. Your impatience is wrong. The value of anything which one human being has to communicate to another lies entirely in the details. — Did you know anything of Michael Vanstone?

Mag.
(
sternly
). I knew the worst of him!

Wragge.
Double the worst of him, treble the worst of him, and you have Michael Vanstone’s son. Is that brief enough for you?

Mag.
I don’t believe it.

Wragge.
What did I tell you just now? You want the details. I have tried Noel Vanstone with the officer’s family, the curate’s wife, and the grazier’s widow in succession. Not a halfpenny to be extracted from him! Here is this School Festival, held from time immemorial in these grounds. Michael Vanstone paid the expenses. Noel Vanstone subscribes half a guinea, and leaves the neighbourhood to do the rest. I’m here to-day to see with my own eyes what the most miserly man in England is like. I declare to heaven, if I can get the opportunity, I’ll descend to extremities — I’ll pick his pocket!

Mag.
I won’t believe he is worse than his father till I see it for myself! Where is he now?

Wragge.
Listening to the music — and looking as if his half-guinea had paid for it all.

Mag.
(
eagerly
). I must see him, I must hear him, I must judge him — without his knowing who I am. It must be done before I rest to-night!

Wragge
(
as if waiting to hear more
). Yes?

Mag.
Well?

Wragge
(
persisting
). Well?

Mag.
Have you nothing to suggest?

Wragge.
Have
you
nothing to say?

(
A pause. They look each other steadily in the face.
MAGDALEN
rises.
WRAGGE
keeps his seat.
)

Mag.
I understand! If I am to have your assistance, I must take you into my confidence first.

Wragge.
My own idea, hit off to a T.

Mag.
(
aside
). Who am I, to pick and choose the instruments that I employ? I am one of the outlaws of Society, and he is another! (
To
WRAGGE.) You have forced your acquaintance on me. I can guess why. You are in want of money.

Wragge.
(
modestly
). The field of human sympathy has not recently answered my expectations of a crop.

Mag.
You think I am rich?

Wragge
(
as before
). I am under that amiable delusion.

Mag.
I have sold my jewellery and my dresses for two hundred pounds, and I have not got another farthing in the world.

Wragge.
What!!!

(
He starts to his feet as he utters the exclamation. The energy and passion in
MAGDALEN’S
nature begin to show themselves as she answers him. The scene that follows between them must be played with the utmost fire and rapidity on both sides.
)

Mag.
You think I have left a comfortable home. I have left a situation as nursery governess. I have left Norah supported by charity. I have left Miss Garth and her sister ruined by the failure of the bank in which their savings were placed.

Wragge.
You stun me! Your father was a rich man. Where has his money gone to?

Mag.
(
breaking out
). The law has taken his money from his children. The law gave it to Michael Vanstone, and Michael Vanstone kept it. Don’t ask me how and why, or you will madden me. You wonder why I have come to this place. I came here a homeless, nameless, desperate wretch, to open Michael Vanstone’s closed hand or perish in the attempt. Never mind how. I had my plan. He is dead — it’s useless to revert to it. Our birthright has gone from him to his son. His son shall do us justice, or his son shall repent it to the last day of his life. Now you know my secret! Which will you do, cheat me or serve me?

Wragge.
(
with downright sincerity
). I’m damned if I cheat you! I’ll serve you on your own terms.

Mag.
(
eagerly
). You shan’t regret it. Advise me! Help me! Before the day is out —
 
—

Wragge.
Before an hour is over your head!

Mag.
How?

Wragge.
I’ll introduce you to Noel Vanstone

Mag.
You! Why, you have been trying —

Wragge.
Finish the sentence — trying to cheat him. That’s the introduction!

Mag.
I don’t understand.

Wragge.
Listen! I shall scrape acquaintance with him in the interests of his pocket. In plain English, I shall warn him against myself. “My dear sir, beware of the officer’s family, the curate’s wife, the grazier’s widow, they are all the inventions of a rascal who infests this neighbourhood under the name of Wragge.” That’s the line to take! And I’m the man to take it! (
He turns to go out at the back.
MRS. WRAGGE
appears at the opening of the tent. Her voice, look, and manner are all suggestive of a weak intellect. She is timid with her husband, and easily confused by the sight of a stranger.
WRAGGE
impatiently addresses her.
) What do you want?