<h2 id="id03398" style="margin-top: 4em">CHAPTER LXIII.</h2>
<h5 id="id03399">THE ACE OF HEARTS.</h5>
<p id="id03400" style="margin-top: 2em">'So you are going to London—<i>to-morrow</i>, is not it?' said Captain Lake,
when on the green of Gylingden where visitors were promenading, and the
militia bands playing lusty polkas, he met Mr. Jos. Larkin, in lavender
trousers and kid gloves, new hat, metropolitan black frock-coat, and
shining French boots—the most elegant as well as the most Christian of
provincial attorneys.</p>
<p id="id03401">'Ah, yes—I think—should my engagements permit—of starting early
to-morrow. The fact is, Captain Lake, our poor friend the vicar, you
know, the Rev. William Wylder, has pressing occasion for some money, and
I can't leave him absolutely in the hands of Burlington and Smith.'</p>
<p id="id03402">'No, of course—quite so,' said Lake, with that sly smile which made
every fellow on whom it lighted somehow fancy that the captain had
divined his secret. 'Very honest fellows, with good looking after—eh?'</p>
<p id="id03403">The attorney laughed a little awkwardly, with his pretty pink blush over
his long face.</p>
<p id="id03404">'Well, I'm far from saying that, but it is their business, you know, to
take care of <i>their</i> client; and it would not do to give them the
handling of <i>mine</i>. Can I do anything, Captain Lake, for you while in
town?'</p>
<p id="id03405">'Nothing on earth, thank you very much. But I am thinking of doing
something for you. You've interested yourself a great deal about Mark
Wylder's movements.'</p>
<p id="id03406">'Not more than my duty clearly imposed.'</p>
<p id="id03407">'Yes; but notwithstanding it will operate, I'm afraid, as you will
presently see, rather to his prejudice. For to prevent your conjectural
interference from doing him a more serious mischief, I will now, and
here, if you please, divulge the true and only cause of his absconding.
It is fair to mention, however, that your knowing it will make you fully
as odious to him as I am—and that, I assure you, is very odious indeed.
There were four witnesses beside myself—Lieutenant-Colonel Jermyn, Sir
James Carter, Lord George Vanbrugh, and Ned Clinton.</p>
<p id="id03408">'<i>Witnesses</i>! Captain Lake. Do you allude to a legal matter?' enquired
Larkin, with his look of insinuating concern and enquiry.</p>
<p id="id03409">'Quite the contrary—a very lawless matter, indeed. These four gentlemen,
beside myself, were present at the occurrence. But perhaps you've heard
of it?' said the captain, 'though that's not likely.'</p>
<p id="id03410">'Not that I recollect, Captain Lake,' answered Jos. Larkin.</p>
<p id="id03411">'Well, it is not a thing you'd forget easily—and indeed it was a very
well kept secret, as well as an ugly one,' and Lake smiled in his sly
quizzical way.</p>
<p id="id03412">'And <i>where</i>, Captain Lake, did it occur, may I enquire?' said Larkin,
with his charming insinuation.</p>
<p id="id03413">'You may, and you shall hear—in fact, I'll tell you the whole thing. It
was at Gray's Club, in Pall Mall. The whist party were old Jermyn,
Carter, Vanbrugh, and Wylder. Clinton and I were at piquet, and were
disturbed by a precious row the old boys kicked up. Jermyn and Carter
were charging Mark Wylder, in so many words, with not playing
fairly—there was an ace of hearts on the table played by him, and before
three minutes they brought it home—and in fact it was quite clear that
poor dear Mark had helped himself to it in quite an irregular way.'</p>
<p id="id03414">'Oh, dear, Captain Lake, oh, dear, how shocking—how inexpressibly
shocking! Is not it <i>melancholy</i>?' said Larkin, in his finest and most
pathetic horror.</p>
<p id="id03415">'Yes; but don't cry till I've done,' said Lake, tranquilly. 'Mark tried
to bully, but the cool old heads were too much for him, and he threw
himself at last entirely on our mercy—and very abject he became, poor
thing.'</p>
<p id="id03416">'How well the mountains look! I am afraid we shall have rain to-morrow.'</p>
<p id="id03417">Larkin uttered a short groan.</p>
<p id="id03418">'So they sent him into the small card-room, next that we were playing in.
I think we were about the last in the club—it was past three
o'clock—and so the old boys deliberated on their sentence. To bring the
matter before the committee were utter ruin to Mark, and they let him
off, on these conditions—he was to retire forthwith from the club; he
was never to play any game of cards again; and, lastly, he was never more
to address any one of the gentlemen who were present at his detection.
Poor dear devil!—how he did jump at the conditions;—and provided they
were each and all strictly observed, it was intimated that the occurrence
should be kept secret. Well, you know, that was letting poor old Mark off
in a coach; and I do assure you, though we had never liked one another, I
really was very glad they did not move his expulsion—which would have
involved his quitting the service—and I positively don't know how he
could have lived if that had occurred.'</p>
<p id="id03419">'I do solemnly assure you, Captain Lake, what you have told me has beyond
expression amazed, and I will say, horrified me,' said the attorney, with
a slow and melancholy vehemence. 'Better men might have suspected
something of it—I do solemnly pledge my honour that nothing of the kind
so much as crossed my mind—not naturally suspicious, I believe, but all
the more shocked, Captain Lake, on that account'</p>
<p id="id03420">'He was poor then, you see, and a few pounds were everything to him, and
the temptation immense; but clumsy fellows ought not to try that sort of
thing. There's the highway—Mark would have made a capital garrotter.'</p>
<p id="id03421">The attorney groaned, and turned up his eyes. The band was playing 'Pop
goes the weasel,' and old Jackson, very well dressed and buckled up, with
a splendid smile upon his waggish, military countenance, cried, as he
passed, with a wave of his hand, 'How do, Lake—how do, Mr.
Larkin—beautiful day!'</p>
<p id="id03422">'I've no wish to injure Mark; but it is better that you should know at
once, than go about poking everywhere for information.'</p>
<p id="id03423">'I do assure you——'</p>
<p id="id03424">'And having really no wish to hurt him,' pursued the captain, 'and also
making it, as I do, a point that you shall repeat this conversation as
little as possible, I don't choose to appear singular, as your sole
informant, and I've given you here a line to Sir James Carter—he's
member, you know, for Huddlesbury. I mention, that Mark, having broken
his promise, and played for heavy stakes, too, both on board his ship,
and at Plymouth and Naples, which I happen to know; and also by accosting
me, whom, as one of the gentlemen agreeing to impose these conditions, he
was never to address, I felt myself at liberty to mention it to you,
holding the relation you do to me as well as to him, in consequence of
the desirableness of placing you in possession of the true cause of his
absconding, which was simply my telling him that I would not permit him,
slurred as he was, to marry a lady who was totally ignorant of his actual
position; and, in fact, that unless he withdrew, I must acquaint the
young lady's guardian of the circumstances.'</p>
<p id="id03425">There was quite enough probability in this story to warrant Jos. Larkin
in turning up his eyes and groaning. But in the intervals, his shrewd
eyes searched the face of the captain, not knowing whether to believe one
syllable of what he related.</p>
<p id="id03426">I may as well mention here, that the attorney did present the note to Sir
J. Carter with which Captain Lake had furnished him; indeed, he never
lost an opportunity of making the acquaintance of a person of rank; and
that the worthy baronet, so appealed to, and being a blunt sort of
fellow, and an old acquaintance of Stanley's, did, in a short and testy
sort of way, corroborate Captain Lake's story, having previously
conditioned that he was not to be referred to as the authority from whom
Mr. Larkin had learned it.</p>
<p id="id03427">The attorney and Captain Brandon Lake were now walking side by side over
the more sequestered part of the green.</p>
<p id="id03428">'And so,' said the captain, coming to a stand-still, 'I'll bid you
good-bye, Larkin; what stay, I forgot to ask, do you make in town?'</p>
<p id="id03429">'Only a day or two.'</p>
<p id="id03430">'You'll not wait for the division on Trawler's motion?'</p>
<p id="id03431">'Oh, dear, no. I calculate I'll be here again, certainly, in three days'
time. And, I suppose, Captain Lake, you received my note?'</p>
<p id="id03432">'You mean just now? Oh, yes; of course it is all right; but one day is as
good as another; and you have got my agreement signed.'</p>
<p id="id03433">'Pardon me, Captain Brandon Lake; the fact is, one day, in this case,
does <i>not</i> answer as well as another, for I must have drafts of the deeds
prepared by my conveyancer in town, and the note is indispensable.
Perhaps, if there is any difficulty, you will be so good as to say so,
and I shall then be in a position to consider the case in its new
aspect.'</p>
<p id="id03434">'What the devil difficulty <i>can</i> there be, Sir? I can't see it, any more
than what <i>hurry</i> can possibly exist about it,' said Lake, stung with a
momentary fury. It seemed as though everyone was conspiring to perplex
and torment him; and he, like the poor vicar, though for very different
reasons, had grown intensely anxious to sell. He had grown to dread the
attorney, since the arrival of Dutton's letter. He suspected that his
journey to London had for its object a meeting with that person. He could
not tell what might be going on in the dark. But the possibility of such
a conjunction might well dismay him.</p>
<p id="id03435">On the other hand, the more Mr. Larkin relied upon the truth of Dutton's
letter, the cooler he became respecting the purchase of Five Oaks. It
was, of course, a very good thing; but not his first object. The vicar's
reversion in that case was everything; and of it he was now sure.</p>
<p id="id03436">'There is no difficulty about the note, Sir; it contains but four lines,
and I've given you the form. No difficulty can exist but in the one
quarter; and the fact is,' he added, steadily, 'unless I have that note
before I leave to-morrow-morning, I'll assume that you wish to be off,
Captain Lake, and I will adapt myself to circumstances.'</p>
<p id="id03437">'You may have it <i>now</i>,' said the captain, with a fierce carelessness.
'D—d nonsense! Who could have fancied any such stupid hurry? Send in the
morning, and you shall have it.' And the captain rather savagely turned
away, skirting the crowd who hovered about the band, in his leisurely and
now solitary ramble.</p>
<p id="id03438">The captain was sullen that evening at home. He was very uncomfortable.
His heart was failing him for the things that were coming to pass. One of
his maniacal tempers, which had often before thrown him, as it were, 'off
the rails,' was at the bottom of his immediate troubles. This proneness
to sudden accesses of violence and fury was the compensation which abated
the effect of his ordinary craft and self-command.</p>
<p id="id03439">He had done all he could to obviate the consequences of his folly in this
case. He hoped the attorney might not succeed in discovering Jim Dutton's
whereabouts. At all events, he had been beforehand, and taken measures to
quiet that person's dangerous resentment. But it was momentous in the
critical state of things to give this dangerous attorney a handsome share
in his stake—to place him, as he had himself said, 'in the same boat,'
and enlist all his unscrupulous astuteness in maintaining his title: and
if he went to London disappointed, and that things turned out unluckily
about Dutton, it might be a very awful business indeed.</p>
<p id="id03440">Dinner had been a very dull <i>tête-à-tête</i>. Dorcas sat stately and
sad—looking from the window toward the distant sunset horizon, piled in
dusky gold and crimson clouds, against the faded, green sky—a glory that
is always melancholy and dreamy. Stanley sipped his claret, his eyes upon
the cloth. He raised them and looked out, too; and the ruddy light tinted
his pale features.</p>
<p id="id03441">A gleam of good humour seemed to come with it, and he said,</p>
<p id="id03442">'I was just thinking, Dorkie, that for you and me, <i>alone</i>, these great
rooms are a little dreary. Suppose we have tea in the tapestry room.'</p>
<p id="id03443">'The Dutch room, Stanley—I think so—I should like it very well. So, I
am certain, would Rachel. I've written to her to come. I hope she will. I
expect her at nine. The brougham will be with her. She wrote such an odd
note to-day, addressed to you; but <i>I opened it</i>. Here it is.'</p>
<p id="id03444">She did not watch his countenance, or look in his direction, as he read
it. She addressed herself, on the contrary, altogether to her Liliputian
white lap-dog, Snow, and played with his silken ears; and chatted with
him as ladies will.</p>
<p id="id03445">A sealed envelope broken. That scoundrel, Larcom, knew perfectly it was
meant for <i>me</i>. He was on the point of speaking his mind, which would
hardly have been pleasant to hear, upon this piece of detective
impertinence of his wife's. He could have smashed all the glass upon the
table. But he looked serene, and leaned back with the corner of Rachel's
note between two fingers. It was a case in which he clearly saw he must
command himself.</p>
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