Complete Works of Wilkie Collins (437 page)

For one moment Noel Vanstone remained literally petrified by astonishment. The next, he started from his chair and wrung the hand of his magnanimous friend in a perfect transport of admiration. Never yet, throughout his long and varied career, had Captain Wragge felt such difficulty in keeping his countenance as he felt now. Contempt for the outburst of miserly gratitude of which he was the object; triumph in the sense of successful conspiracy against a man who had rated the offer of his protection at five pounds; regret at the lost opportunity of effecting a fine stroke of moral agriculture, which his dread of involving himself in coming consequences had forced him to let slip — all these varied emotions agitated the captain’s mind; all strove together to find their way to the surface through the outlets of his face or his tongue. He allowed Noel Vanstone to keep possession of his hand, and to heap one series of shrill protestations and promises on another, until he had regained his usual mastery over himself. That result achieved, he put the little man back in his chair, and returned forthwith to the subject of Mrs. Lecount.

“Suppose we now revert to the difficulty which we have not conquered yet,” said the captain. “Let us say that I do violence to my own habits and feelings; that I allow the considerations I have already mentioned to weigh with me; and that I sanction your wish to be united to my niece without the knowledge of Mrs. Lecount. Allow me to inquire in that case what means you can suggest for the accomplishment of your end?”

“I can’t suggest anything,” replied Noel Vanstone, helplessly. “Would you object to suggest for me?”

“You are making a bolder request than you think, Mr. Vanstone. I never do things by halves. When I am acting with my customary candor, I am frank (as you know already) to the utmost verge of imprudence. When exceptional circumstances compel me to take an opposite course, there isn’t a slyer fox alive than I am. If, at your express request, I take off my honest English coat here and put on a Jesuit’s gown — if, purely out of sympathy for your awkward position, I consent to keep your secret for you from Mrs. Lecount — I must have no unseasonable scruples to contend with on your part. If it is neck or nothing on my side, sir, it must be neck or nothing on yours also.”

“Neck or nothing, by all means,” said Noel Vanstone, briskly — ”on the understanding that you go first. I have no scruples about keeping Lecount in the dark. But she is devilish cunning, Mr. Bygrave. How is it to be done?”

“You shall hear directly,” replied the captain. “Before I develop my views, I should like to have your opinion on an abstract question of morality. What do you think, my dear sir, of pious frauds in general?”

Noel Vanstone looked a little embarrassed by the question.

“Shall I put it more plainly?” continued Captain Wragge. “What do you say to the universally-accepted maxim that ‘all stratagems are fair in love and war’? — Yes or No?”

“Yes!” answered Noel Vanstone, with the utmost readiness.

“One more question and I have done,” said the captain. “Do you see any particular objection to practicing a pious fraud on Mrs. Lecount?”

Noel Vanstone’s resolution began to falter a little.

“Is Lecount likely to find it out?” he asked cautiously.

“She can’t possibly discover it until you are married and out of her reach.”

“You are sure of that?”

“Quite sure.”

“Play any trick you like on Lecount,” said Noel Vanstone, with an air of unutterable relief. “I have had my suspicions lately that she is trying to domineer over me; I am beginning to feel that I have borne with Lecount long enough. I wish I was well rid of her.”

“You shall have your wish,” said Captain Wragge. “You shall be rid of her in a week or ten days.”

Noel Vanstone rose eagerly and approached the captain’s chair.

“You don’t say so!” he exclaimed. “How do you mean to send her away?”

“I mean to send her on a journey,” replied Captain Wragge.

“Where?”

“From your house at Aldborough to her brother’s bedside at Zurich.”

Noel Vanstone started back at the answer, and returned suddenly to his chair.

“How can you do that?” he inquired, in the greatest perplexity. “Her brother (hang him!) is much better. She had another letter from Zurich to say so, this morning.”

“Did you see the letter?”

“Yes. She always worries about her brother — she
would
show it to me.”

“Who was it from? and what did it say?”

“It was from the doctor — he always writes to her. I don’t care two straws about her brother, and I don’t remember much of the letter, except that it was a short one. The fellow was much better; and if the doctor didn’t write again, she might take it for granted that he was getting well. That was the substance of it.”

“Did you notice where she put the letter when you gave it her back again?”

“Yes. She put it in the drawer where she keeps her account-books.”

“Can you get at that drawer?”

“Of course I can. I have got a duplicate key — I always insist on a duplicate key of the place where she keeps her account books. I never allow the account-books to be locked up from my inspection: it’s a rule of the house.”

“Be so good as to get that letter to-day, Mr. Vanstone, without your housekeeper’s knowledge, and add to the favor by letting me have it here privately for an hour or two.”

“What do you want it for?”

“I have some more questions to ask before I tell you. Have you any intimate friend at Zurich whom you could trust to help you in playing a trick on Mrs. Lecount?”

“What sort of help do you mean?” asked Noel Vanstone.

“Suppose,” said the captain, “you were to send a letter addressed to Mrs. Lecount at Aldborough, inclosed in another letter addressed to one of your friends abroad? And suppose you were to instruct that friend to help a harmless practical joke by posting Mrs. Lecount’s letter at Zurich? Do you know any one who could be trusted to do that?”

“I know two people who could be trusted!” cried Noel Vanstone. “Both ladies — both spinsters — both bitter enemies of Lecount’s. But what is your drift, Mr. Bygrave? Though I am not usually wanting in penetration, I don’t altogether see your drift.”

“You shall see it directly, Mr. Vanstone.”

With those words he rose, withdrew to his desk in the corner of the room, and wrote a few lines on a sheet of note-paper. After first reading them carefully to himself, he beckoned to Noel Vanstone to come and read them too.

“A few minutes since,” said the captain, pointing complacently to his own composition with the feather end of his pen, “I had the honour of suggesting a pious fraud on Mrs. Lecount. There it is!”

He resigned his chair at the writing-table to his visitor. Noel Vanstone sat down, and read these lines:

“MY DEAR MADAM — Since I last wrote, I deeply regret to inform you that your brother has suffered a relapse. The symptoms are so serious, that it is my painful duty to summon you instantly to his bedside. I am making every effort to resist the renewed progress of the malady, and I have not yet lost all hope of success. But I cannot reconcile it to my conscience to leave you in ignorance of a serious change in my patient for the worse, which
may
be attended by fatal results. With much sympathy, I remain, etc. etc.”

Captain Wragge waited with some anxiety for the effect which this letter might produce. Mean, selfish, and cowardly as he was, even Noel Vanstone might feel some compunction at practicing such a deception as was here suggested on a woman who stood toward him in the position of Mrs. Lecount. She had served him faithfully, however interested her motives might be — she had lived since he was a lad in the full possession of his father’s confidence — she was living now under the protection of his own roof. Could be fail to remember this; and, remembering it, could he lend his aid without hesitation to the scheme which was now proposed to him? Captain Wragge unconsciously retained belief enough in human nature to doubt it. To his surprise, and, it must be added, to his relief, also, his apprehensions proved to be groundless. The only emotions aroused in Noel Vanstone’s mind by a perusal of the letter were a hearty admiration of his friend’s idea, and a vainglorious anxiety to claim the credit to himself of being the person who carried it out. Examples may be found every day of a fool who is no coward; examples may be found occasionally of a fool who is not cunning; but it may reasonably be doubted whether there is a producible instance anywhere of a fool who is not cruel.

“Perfect!” cried Noel Vanstone, clapping his hands. “Mr. Bygrave, you are as good as Figaro in the French comedy. Talking of French, there is one serious mistake in this clever letter of yours — it is written in the wrong language. When the doctor writes to Lecount, he writes in French. Perhaps you meant me to translate it? You can’t manage without my help, can you? I write French as fluently as I write English. Just look at me! I’ll translate it, while I sit here, in two strokes of the pen.”

He completed the translation almost as rapidly as Captain Wragge had produced the original. “Wait a minute!” he cried, in high critical triumph at discovering another defect in the composition of his ingenious friend. “The doctor always dates his letters. Here is no date to yours.”

“I leave the date to you,” said the captain, with a sardonic smile. “You have discovered the fault, my dear sir — pray correct it!”

Noel Vanstone mentally looked into the great gulf which separates the faculty that can discover a defect, from the faculty that can apply a remedy, and, following the example of many a wiser man, declined to cross over it.

“I couldn’t think of ta king the liberty,” he said, politely. “Perhaps you had a motive for leaving the date out?”

“Perhaps I had,” replied Captain Wragge, with his easiest good-humor. “The date must depend on the time a letter takes to get to Zurich.
I
have had no experience on that point —
you
must have had plenty of experience in your father’s time. Give me the benefit of your information, and we will add the date before you leave the writing-table.”

Noel Vanstone’s experience was, as Captain Wragge had anticipated, perfectly competent to settle the question of time. The railway resources of the Continent (in the year eighteen hundred and forty-seven) were but scanty; and a letter sent at that period from England to Zurich, and from Zurich back again to England, occupied ten days in making the double journey by post.

“Date the letter in French five days on from to-morrow,” said the captain, when he had got his information. “Very good. The next thing is to let me have the doctor’s note as soon as you can. I may be obliged to practice some hours before I can copy your translation in an exact imitation of the doctor’s handwriting. Have you got any foreign note-paper? Let me have a few sheets, and send, at the same time, an envelope addressed to one of those lady-friends of yours at Zurich, accompanied by the necessary request to post the inclosure. This is all I need trouble you to do, Mr. Vanstone. Don’t let me seem inhospitable; but the sooner you can supply me with my materials, the better I shall be pleased. We entirely understand each other, I suppose? Having accepted your proposal for my niece’s hand, I sanction a private marriage in consideration of the circumstances on your side. A little harmless stratagem is necessary to forward your views. I invent the stratagem at your request, and you make use of it without the least hesitation. The result is, that in ten days from to-morrow Mrs. Lecount will be on her way to Switzerland; in fifteen days from to-morrow Mrs. Lecount will reach Zurich, and discover the trick we have played her; in twenty days from to-morrow Mrs. Lecount will be back at Aldborough, and will find her master’s wedding-cards on the table, and her master himself away on his honey-moon trip. I put it arithmetically, for the sake of putting it plain. God bless you. Good-morning!”