The Silver Cord: a story

Chapter I

That morning Arthur Lygon and Charles Hawkesley arrived in Paris, and it wiU easily be imagined that during their journey they had fully discussed the various courses that were open to them. But they addressed themselves to the painful subject in very different moods of mind. Lygon permitted himself to be almost passive, when con templating his own future, a future which he had brought himself to believe was doomed to be one of bereavement and wretchedness. He was unable to disentangle the complications which the arrival of Bertha, and her miserable revelations, had intro duced into the story ; but he was not to be shaken in his conviction that the fatal letter from Urquhart had been based upon discoveries which no addition of circumstances could render less damning. Hawkesley, on the contrary, had been unable to resist the influence of his wife's earnest and affectionate pleading for faith in her sister Laura, of her womanly intenseness of belief that the latter was the martyr to some strange and wicked perversion TOI,.

III. B THE SILVEE COED. of facts, and he prepared to apply himself to a task which he refused to look upon as a melancholy one, so far as Lygon and Laura were involved. But there was enough, more than enough, in the thought of the approaching meeting with Robert Urquhart, to deprive Hawkesley of the power of exerting him self to inspire his companion with the hopeful view which the author had adopted as to the position of Laura. The interview with Bertha had been brief and sad. Beatrice had resolved that it should take place, and that Arthur should learn from Mrs. Urquhart's own lips that, let his wife's conduct have been what it might, her flight to VersaUles had been caused by her resolution to save a guilty sister. Bertha would scarcely speak, but with sobs and murmured assent she confirmed the tale as she had told it to Mrs. Hawkesley.

Arthur Lygon questioned her but slightly. He believed her to be utterly regardless of truth, utterly lost to honour ; and though he had no hesitation in accepting her statement as against herself, he gave no credence to her faint protests that he was wronging Laura. He went through the scene rather as a form, than as a means of obtaining information, and when it was over, he quietly said, " The sooner we are in Paris the better." And the sisters were left to themselves, and it was perhaps well that the increasing illness of Mrs. Urquhart compelled her removal to the seclusion of the sick room, and her being treated with the for- THE SH/VER COED. bearance which her condition required. For Bea trice, though she might almost have striven to seek merciful extenuation for the sin of the weak and foolish Bertha, could but regard her selfishness and ingratitude with a severity that would, but for the prostration of Mrs. Urquhart, have found bitterer expression than had ever come from the loving and kindly Beatrice Hawkesley.

But, enforced to silence on the theme nearest her heart, Mrs. Hawkesley tended her sister with a calm watchfulness that had more of duty than of affection. The travellers drove to their hotel, and Lygon at once proposed that they should proceed to Versailles. But Hawkesley thought that it might be more acceptable to Robert Urquhart to' be informed of their arrival, and to be summoned to Paris; and Lygon yielded with but little oppo sition. A messenger was therefore dispatched to Mr. Urquhart, with a few lines from Charles Hawkesley. Leaving Arthur at the hotel, Hawkesley went in quest of Mr. Aventayle, and found the manager at his own quarters, waiting the hour for keeping his appointment with Adair. " I call this mean, you know," said Aventayle, shaking his friend heartily by the hand — " you have no business here.

Why is not my play finished off? Or have you come to annex — that's the word, isn't it — some incident from somebody else's piece ? " b COED. " My dear fellow, I am here on a very different matter." "And a disagreeable one, I am afraid, by your manner, Charles,""said Aventayle, looking sincerely concerned. " I could not know that, of course, or I shouldn't have met you with a joke." "A painful business, Aventayle; but I do not want to speak of that at present." " Can I be of any possible use ? " " I am not sure that I may not avail myself of your kindness. But let me ask you a question. Have you seen the man whose address you sent for ? " " Not yet, but I shall see him in less than an hour." And he informed his friend of the interview with the Pole, and of his own carelessness in forget ting the injunction not to apprise Adair of the ex pected arrival of Hawkesley.

" I wish it had been otherwise," said Hawkesley, " but we must manage as best we may." " Do I understand that you know something of the man ? " " A great deal too much." "Is he a bad lot, then?" asked Aventayle, curiously. " He is a very smart fellow, never theless." " He is simply the greatest scoundrel in Paris," replied the author, " and that is saying a good deal." " Well, it is, if half what one hears is true. I am sorry I am going to have anything to do with him. But his being all that does not damage his piece, about which I am to call on him pre sently." " Why does he not come to you ? " "I invited him, but he sends word that he is ill." " 111, is he ? " repeated Hawkesley, " So he says. Do you think it is a trap to in veigle me into some den of robbery? " asked Aven tayle, smihng.

" He won't get much out of an un lucky manager." " No, 1 don't think it is," replied the other, so gravely that Aventayle could not help looking thoroughly puzzled. Without immediate answer, he took out Adair's address, and showed it to Hawkesley. " That can hardly be a den of iniquity, close to the Rue de la Paix," said Aventayle. Charles Hawkesley looked at the paper for a few moments, and said : " One reads a distant address half-a-dozen times without associating any recollection with it, and then when one comes near the place a whole story revives. I know something about that house, or, at least, about the street. I heard about it from a man in the French embassy." " I don't associate with such swells, you see." " I'll tell you what, Aventayle," said Hawkesley, after some thought. " Stay, I must ask you a favour."

" I'm very glad you must. What can I do ? " " Break this appointment, and come with me." " Well, but suppose I lose my piece." "My dear Aventayle, when you know what I can tell you, and what I am afraid I shall be obliged to tell, you will as much think of connecting yourself in business with this man as with that chiffonnier there in that gutter. But take my word for the moment, will you ? " " Sir, I wUl take it in a greater matter. But had I not better send to him ? " " By-and-by, perhaps. Come along." Charles Hawkesley had remembered his French friend's conversation to some purpose, and the use of that gentleman's name speedily procured for him self and Aventayle admission to the presence of an official of whom we have heard before. This was M. , the accomplished chief of the " system ; " the personage on whom had devolved the duty of imparting to the unfortunate -Robert Urquhart the news which sundered him for ever from the wife of his heart.

M. received the Englishmen with his usual urbanity, and the name of the attache, though the chief admitted their acquaintance was of the slightest, proved a perfectly sufficient introduction. In what way could M. be of service ? Hawkesley explained that there was a person in Paris, regarding whom some exact information would be materially to the advantage of several persons wdiose respectability would satisfy M. that he should be acting justifiably in serving them. He would offer M. any explanation, and would venture to solicit his good offices. M. would require no explanation from a gentleman who had been so introduced to him, unless it were necessary for the furtherance of Mr. Hawkesley's own objects. Who was the person ? Not a symptom of surprise came upon the well tutored features of the official, when Hawkesley named Ernest Adair.

" M. Adair is fortunate enough to be the object of solicitude to more than one worthy person, just now," he answered quietly. " Shall I ask — but do not reply if the affair be a secret — whether your investigations connect themselves with a somewhat dehcate matter in which an English, or rather a Scottish, family has lately been interested? " " I perceive that the whole story is in your possession, M. ," said Hawkesley. " I am the brother-in-law of Mr. Urquhart, of Versailles." " Late of VersaiUes, would be the more accurate description." " What!" exclaimed Hawkesley, alarmed. "You do not mean anything has happened — " " Nothing to distress you — I regret I spoke un guardedly. I meant to imply that Mr. Urquhart has broken up his household, and abandoned Ver sailles, a fact to be deplored by all who know him."

" I have just sent off a messenger to his house." " He will find it closed." " But is he in Paris, M. ? It is of the utmost importance that I should see him." COED. " I can obtain that information for you, and will do so with a sincere regret, for I shaU be hastening an interview which I may, without in discretion, suppose will be painful, fl will send you word to your hotel. But as regards M. Adair, your relative has not much, I imagine, to learn." " We have reason to think there are circumstances which we should know, and do not. M. Adair is in Paris." " That is so," said the chief, with a very slight smile at the information. " And he has given this as his address," continued Hawkesley, showing it to M. . " He will be found there, I believe." " He will be looked for there, at all events," said Charles Hawkesley.

" But may I ask you in what position in society he is living ? " " M. Adair has no position in society, Mr. Hawkesley, and is an inferior agent of the law. The house to which he seems to have invited you is appropriated to the' purposes of our police. Your companion appears to be surprised. Has sucU a character as M. Adair never been presented on the stage which Mr. Aventayle ornaments ? " " You know me, sir ? " asked the manager, again looking astonishment. " Who that has had the good fortune to see Mr. Aventayle upon the boards is Ukely to forget him ? " replied M. . " Besides, he has frequently favoured Paris with visits." " And this Adair is a bad fellow," said the straightforward Aventayle, bluntly. " I do not know that it is for me to discredit him," said the chief, smiling goodnaturedly ; " but I have owed Mr. Aventayle too much gratification not to be frank with him.

M. Adair is a very finished scoundrel, and the less an honest man has to do with him the better for the honest man." " That is what you said," remarked Aventayle to his friend. " There is an end of the matter as regards me. But," he added, perceiving that he was likely to hear what Hawkesley might not have intended should reach him, "I think that your conversation, gentlemen, had better be finished without me. You will find me at the hotel, Mr. Hawkesley." He was about to bow and retire, when M. said, "In the next room, Mr. Aventayle, you will find the journals. I would suggest your re maining." When the manager had gone out, M. , drawing his chair somewhat nearer to Hawkesley, said, "There is no object in keeping his appointment with Adair. Your friend will have nothing to say to him. You, on the contrary, will probably have a good deal."

" You knew of the appointment. True, I forgot. You know everj'thing." " Indeed, no ; I wish we knew a quarter of everything. But as for this Adair, you may suppose that I should not trouble myself about the move ments of such a person except when on business. I happened to be aware that he was to meet your friend, merely because another person, who made the appointment, was wanted here, and had to ex cuse his absence. That is not worth a word. But, Mr. Hawkesley, I can probably be of more use to you, than in teUing you so very Uttle more than you already know. May I ask the object of your visit to France ? " " To see my brother-jn-law." "And your other brother-in-law, why does he accompany you? You arrived together at nine this morning." Charles Hawkesley hesitated for a few moments, and the thought came to him that let the truth be what it might, it was probably known to M. , and that it might suit him to impart it.

At all events, no possible injury could be done by accepting any aid that M. was pleased to afford. " You are acquainted, M. , with the painful circumstances which have caused poor Urquhart to abandon his home." " Unhappily, yes. But it is not to those circum stances that I owe the honour of making Mr. Hawkesley's acquaintance. I tell you frankly that I know this. Not of course that I would desire to ask a confidence that is not volunteered, but because for a reason which I am not at Uberty to mention, I would gladly make myself useful to any part of the family of Mr. Urquhart." " You speak in a manner that leaves me in no doubt as to the sincerity of your intentions, M. , and I thank you on behalf of two persons who are suffering most undeservedly." " One is suffering undeservedly, the other is not.

The first is Mr. Urquhart, the second is Mr. Ly gon." " Lygon has deserved his misfortune ! " exclaimed Hawkesley. " I cannot now explain myself," replied M. . It is more to the purpose to go on from your ad mission that Mr. Lygon's misfortune has brought you here. Now, I presume that you, Mr. Hawkesley, have too much wisdom to be party to the absurd scheme of vengeance which is at present occupying the mind of that very talented man, Mr. Urquhart." " Of vengeance ? " " Yes. I perceive you know nothing of it, and I am sure you would discourage it if you could. It is true, however, that he has resolved to discover this unhappy Adair, and if he should succeed, a very terrible, and also a very ridiculous thing will be done." " Urquhart will kill him." " He will not, because, of course, means wUl be taken to prevent such a possibUity," said M. — - — .

" I am saying nothing offensive in supposing you will protect this Adair, on account of his employ ment in the police." " I should certainly not do so on lhat account, but on his own. If the question simply turned upon the merits of this Adair, Mr. Urquhart should be at perfect liberty to throw him from one of the bridges into the Seine, either strangling him pre viously, or omitting that ceremony, as might best please him." M. uttered these savage words in the gentlest tone imaginable, hut perceiving that his manner did not seem to produce a favourable impression on Hawkesle}*, he added: " I mean that I would not stretch out a hand to save Adair, who is a cold-blooded villain. But Mr. Urquhart shall never have a chance of touching him, because I honour and respect Mr. Urqu hart." " Yet, if I had met Urquhart, and had told him Adair's address, he would at once have gone there and carried out his revenge."

" Dear Mr. Hawkesley, think better of our saga city. It is far from certain that had your friend Aventayle gone to the appointment he would have seen the man with whom he believed he was con versing, and quite certain that he would not, had he been accompanied by yourself. I have told you that the house is a police establishment." " Well, M. , I gather that you mean kindly by my poor brother-in-law." " Yes, whether you mean Urquhart or Lygon. Let us speak of the affairs of the latter, if you will. For, as regards the former, I fear the account is COED. 13 made up. His fugitive wife is safe in one of the bedrooms of your hospitable house — why do you start ? " " Did I start ? It was an involuntary homage to your system." " We do our best," said M. , calmly, " but nothing is perfect. I was about to add that Mrs. Urquhart being safe in England, and her husband being solely bent upon his errand of impossible vengeance, we may leave their fortunes for the mo ment.

Is Mr. Lygon come to reclaim his wife, and reconduct her to England ? " " You ask a question that it is impossible for me to answer." " And, I presume, equaUy impossible for him ? " " At this moment, yes." " In other words, Mr. Lygon has the misfortune to believe that he is as unhappy as Mr. Urqu hart ? " " The misfortune to believe," repeated Hawkesley. " I snatch at your words, M. , because if you comprehend the distress which has been brought upon us all — " " It has been made painfully clear to me in one case, Mr. Hawkesley, and I can easily imagine it in another, especially as in this last there was far more reason for a husband's grief than in the instance of poor Mr. Urquhart. I am speaking to a connection of the lady who bears his name, or I might use plainer language. It is right, however, you should know, that though the immediate purpose of Mrs. Lygon's journey to France might have been an swered, her hope to rescue another person from a degrading intrigue would have proved fruitless."

"I have been, unhappily, prepared to believe that," said Hawkesley. " But if you can give us any clue, any guide — " " To Mrs. Lygon. I can give you her address at Versailles, and I know that she will be found there," said the Frenchman, looking straight into the face of his companion. " I understand," he added, after a pause, " it is not her whom you seek, but her reputation." "No," said Hawkesley, with energy. "It is not so. Circumstances, as I see you are fully aware, have caused painful feelings to arise among us, and much unhappiness now exists. But no suspicion, M. , rests upon the character of Mrs. Lygon, and my errand to France is to obtain the explanations which must restore all to its old and happy condition. If you can assist me in this, you will, I am induced to hope, give me all the assistance in your power."

" I have told you that I will do anything to serve the family of Mr. Urquhart. But you must begin with frankness. You have just described to me a state of belief which does not exist." " I do not understand." " You have stated, perhaps with a pardonable ex aggeration, your own convictions as to the lady of whom you speak. But you have entirely misrepre sented those of her husband, who, if the information I have received be true, either listened in sullen silence, or answered with strong doubts to the as surances and consolations with which you assailed him during your journey." " During the journey ? ' " Yes. SpeciaUy while the train was stationary, by an accident, near St. Just. When you consult a physician, Mr. Hawkesley, you tell him all your symptoms, or else you are not thought to be among the wise."

" Is it wonderful, M. ," said Hawkesley, who had, by this time, become careless as to the means that gave his companion information, "is it wonderful that a husband whose affliction has made him less capable of judgment, should not be so easily convinced as another and a calmer person ? " " Leave the case so," said M. . " Mr. Lygon has yet to be convinced that he has an innocent wife. And you, Mr. Hawkesley, will spare no pains to lead him to that conviction." " None. For it is mine." " You have a difficult task before you, and you are about to place one and the greatest difficulty in your own way. Yes. You are about to bring together Mr. Lygon and the man whose own belief is directly the reverse of your own, and who has far more influence with Mr. Lygon than yourself." " You mean Urquhart."

" Certainly. He is at once the witness and the judge in the case of the poor lady, as regards the evidence that comes against her from Versailles." " Yes. And confident as I am that he has been deceived, I am as confident, M. , that Urquhart, a just and honourable man, will be brought to comprehend that deception, and to do right to the woman whom he has wronged." " And what is your plan for unmasking this supposed deception." " How can I say, until I have seen him — have heard his own evidence from beginning to end — have examined for myself into the value of the testimony." " Supjiose that all done, and you still retain your present belief in defiance of a mystery you cannot solve." " Then," said Hawkesley, "may I not count upon your aid ? " " You may. But would it not be wiser to ask for that aid in the first instance ?

" Hawkesley did not reply for a moment. " I see," said M. . " Do not be vexed with yourself for betraying yourself. Most persons who enter this room betray themselves over and over again. You have the EnglisU feeling that you would rather work out this problem for yourself than be indebted to the means which I can place at your disposal. You have some romantic feelino that there is a contamination in the system which accomplishes its purpose in the most direct manner and you prefer to try to organise a spy system of your own, which can only succeed by imitating us in a bungling fashion. Do not suppose I am annoyed ; I merely regret my desire to serve you must remain ungratified until you have ascer tained that you can do nothing for yourselves. I shaU equally be at your command when the time comes."

" I am not in a position to act on my own sole responsibility, M. , or I should at once admit the force of your representations. But, as will occur to yourself, Mr. Lygon, who has accompanied me to Paris, has the first claim to decide by what means he will obtain the satisfaction so earnestly desired." " And you think that he will refuse to owe the solution of his doubts to the services of the police ? " " He is English enough — the word is your own, sir — to prefer another course, but I feel that no scruple ought finally to oppose itself to the ascer taining the facts, if we cannot arrive at them in our own way." " Well, I recognise the sentiment. You propose at once to meet Mr. Urquhart? " " Certainly." The chief pressed a knob in the wall, and a distant single stroke on a beU was heard.

He then wrote a few words on a slip of paper, and inserted it in a slit in the wall. A slight sound as of machinery was heard, and M. turned to Hawkesley. " That is nothing mysterious — it is simply an ascending box, which saves a clerk's legs and my 0 VOL. tongue. Shall I tell you whence I took the idea of its construction ? It is from a place which I dare say you never saw — the interior of a pawnbroker's shop in London." " Might one ask what took you into such a place ? "-said Hawkesley. " I served, or at least I stood behind the counter of a pawnbroker for two months, some years back, in order to be able to identify two fugitives — or as you politely call them refugees, — who were in the habit of raising money there. I was a young man then and rather enjoyed the adventure, which, moreover, gave me some curious insight into English life — not the life of the poor, Mr. Hawkesley — the canaille is alike everywhere — but into that of some much better people.

I have seen some odd things." " Let us hope that you will keep the secrets of that confessional." " Some of them are useful to me, occasionally," said M. , carelessly. A bell near him, but behind the panel of the wall, sounded, and he lifted a small flap that fitted flush with the wood-work. A note lay in a black tray behind. " Mr. Urquhart," said M. , when he had read the note, " was occupied yesterday in walking about the Bois de Boulogne. He took refreshment twice — the places are mentioned, but have no interest for you, — and he slept at the house of the mechanic, * * * * *, whom he has often employed in experiments. We have not yet the report of his proceedings to-day, but I will send you word where he is to be found. You are at the Hotel Mirabeau ? " " Yes.' " But it occurs to me that the better plan wiU be for me to let Mr. Urquhart be informed of your arrival, and then it wiU be for him to visit you."

" That will, I am sure, be the promptest way," replied Hawkesley. " It shall be done. Let me add one thing. It was in the chair in which you are now sitting that your unfortunate friend received the information which is now disturbing his mind, and driving him in this unhappy condition about Paris. He came to me on an errand similar to your own. I wish that the most distressing incident of my Use could have been spared me, but I had no choice." "Then — then," said Hawkesley, "do I under stand you, M. , that the scoundrel who has been the cause of what is now afflicting us was so unspeakably base as to be the betrayer ? " " It was by some letters addressed to M. Ernest Adair," said M. , " that the fatal fact was proved to M. Urquhart." " And by — ," said the EngUshman in ungovern able indignation, " if Urquhart should meet this unredeemable miscreant, it is not I, M. , who wiU stretch out my hand to prevent murder."

" The more needful, Mr. Hawkesley, that I c should stretch out mine. I must in justice to Mr. Urquhart prevent any such madness. Adair shall be kept out of the way of aU of you. Shall I caU in Mr. Aventayle ? "

Chapter II

A quarter of an hour before the time at which Mr. Aventayle had agreed to visit Ernest Adair, the latter was once more summoned by his chief, M. Wolowski. The latter was alone in the small, mean room in the httle street turning from the Rue de la Paix. " You did not think proper to stay in the house, Adair," said the Pole, coldly. " I did not," said Adair, seating himself. " You wiU admit that I was fuUy justified in taking every precaution in my power. I am perfectly aware, M. Wolowski, that this is a most important moment in my life, and that if I lose the game to-day, I lose your friendship." " You have had no reason to say so." " Pardon. At the risk of offending you, I must say that you have permitted yourseU to import private regard into questions of business, and that your favouritism for another person is inducing you to do me wrong."

" The truth never offends me. The concealment of truth does not offend me, but it is a departure from the usages of the system." " I am unconscious of having deserved that remark. But once more, M. Wolowski, I claim justice at your hands." " You shaU have more than justice, Adair, if only to prove to you that you judge me unfairly. Chantal has been a better agent than yourself, yet I will show him so little favour on this occasion as to give you the opportunity of withdrawing your challenge." " I will not do so, M. Wolowski." " Is that final resolution the result of information which you have obtained since you left this room ? " " I made the resolution before leaving." " Scarcely an answer. What was Mr. Aventayle's reply to this note ? " And M. Wolowski, smiling, held up, and threw to Adair a short note in the handwriting of the latter, and addressed to Mr. Aventayle.