Devlin the Barber

Front matter

I BY B. L. FARJEON, AUTHOR OF "GREAT PORTER SQUARE," "THE NINE OF HEARTS," ETC. etc. LONDON: WARD AND DOWNEY, 12 YORK STREET, COVENT GARDEN. CONTENTS. . PAGE Introduction. — In which reference is made to a strange, unfathomable being, through whose instrumentality an awful mystery was solved .... 1 Chap. i. In which an account is given of the good fortune which befell Mr. Melladew .... 2 n. I am the recipient of terrible news .... 9 in. A shoal of visitors — followed by another mystery . 14 iv. Mr. Richard Portland makes a singular proposition to me ........ 52 v. I pay a visit to Mrs. Lemon ..... 28 vi. I am haunted by three evil-looking objects in Mrs. Lemon's room ...... 32 vn. Devlin's first introduction into the mystery . . 39 vm. I make the acquaintance of George Carton's guardian, Mr. Kenneth Dowsett ..... 43 ix.

Fanny Lemon relates under what circumstances she resolved to let her second floor front . 50 x. Devlin the Barber takes Fanny's first floor front . 55 xi. Devlin performs some wonderful tricks, fascinates Mr. Lemon, and strikes terror to the soul of Fanny Lemon ...... 59 xii. Fanny Lemon relates how her husband, after becoming better acquainted with Devlin the Barber, seemed to he haunted by shadows and spirits . 65 xm. In which Fanny narrates how her husband had a fit, and what the doctor thought of it . .74 xiv. Devlin appears suddenly, and holds a conversation with Fanny about the murder . . CONTENTS. VI PAGE CHAP. xv. Fanny describes how she made up her mind what to do with Lemon .....•■ 84 xvi. Mr. Lemon wakes up . xvn. Lemon's vision in the " Twisted Cow " . . .93 xvm. Fanny's story being concluded, I pay a visit to Mr. Lemon, and resolve to interview Devlin the Barber 98 xix.

Face to face with Devlin, I demand an explanation of him 101 xx. Devlin astonishes me ...... 106 xxi. Devlin and I make a compact .... 116 xxii. I send Devlin's desk to my wife, and smoke a fragrant cigar . . . . . .124 xxni. I pass a morning in Devlin's place of business . 132 xxiv. Mr Kenneth Dowsett gives me the slip . . . 140 xxv. We follow in pursuit ...... 147 xxvi. Another strange and unexpecte 1 discovery . . 159 xxvn. We track Mr. Kenneth Dowsett to Boulogne . . 165 xxvi 1 1. The trance and the revelation . . . .173 xxix. The rescue ....... 178 xxx. Devlin's last scheme. ..... 183 '5"""US'

Introduction

. IN WHICH REFERENCE IS MADE TO A STRANGE, UNFATHOM- ABLE BEING THROUGH WHOSE INSTRUMENTALITY AN AWFUL MYSTERY WAS SOLVED. The manner in which I became intimately associated with a fearful mystery with which not only all London but all England was ringing, and the strange, inexplicable Being whom the course of events brought to my knowledge, are so startling and wonderful, that I have grown to believe that by no effort of the imagination, however wild and bewildering the labyrinths into which it may lead a man, can the actual realism of our everyday life be outrivalled. What I am about to narrate is absolutely true — somewhat of an unnecessary statement, for the reason that human fancy could never have invented it. To a person unfamiliar with the wondrous hfe of a great city like London the story may appear impossible, but there are thousands of men and women who will immediately recognise in it features with which they became acquainted through the columns of the newspapers.

I venture to say that the leading incident by which one morning — it was but yester day — the great city was thrilled and horrified can never be entirely effaced from their memories. Dark crimes and D deeds of heroism, in which the incidents are pathetic or pitiful, draw even strangers into sympathetic relation with each other. These events come home to us, as it were. What happened to one whose face we have never seen, whose hand we have never grasped, may happen to us who move in the same familiar grooves of humanity. Our hopes and fears, our joys and sorrows, our duties and temptations, are the same, because we are human ; and it is this com mon tie of kinship that will cause the story of Devhn the Barber to be received with more than ordinary interest. Now, for the first time is revealed, in these pages, the strange manner in which the fearful mystery in which it was enshrouded was unraveUed.

The facts are as I shall relate them, and whatever the impression they may create, a shuddering curiosity must inevitably be aroused as to the nature and movements of the inscrutable Being through whose instrumentality I was made the agent in revealing what would otherwise have remained for ever hidden from human knowledge. By a few incredulous persons — I refer to those to whom nothing spiritual is demonstrable — the existence of this Being may be doubted ; but none the less does he hve and move among us this very day, pursuing his mission with a purpose and to an end which it is not in the power of mortal insight to fathom. It is not unlikely that some of my readers may have come unconsciously in contact with him within the last few hours.

Chapter I. In Which An Account Is Given Of The Good Fortune

WHICH BEFELL MR. MELLADEW. I am a struggling man — the phrase will be well under stood, for the class to which I belong is a large one — and I reside in a neighbourhood which is neither very poor nor very fashionable. I have, of course, my friends and acquaintances, and among the most intimate of the former is a family of the name of Melladew. Mr. Melladew is a reader in a printing-office in which a weekly newspaper is printed. Mrs. Melladew, with the assistance of one small servant, manages the home. They had two daughters, twins, eighteen years of age, named respectively Mary and Elizabeth. These girls were very beautiful, and were so much alike that they were frequently mistaken for one another. Mrs. Melladew has told me that when they were very young she was compelled to make some distinguishing mark in their dress to avoid confusion in her recognition of them, such as differently coloured socks or pieces of ribbon.

The home of the Melladews was a happy one, and the sisters loved each other sincerely. They were both in outdoor employment, in the establish ments of a general linendraper and a fashionable dressmaker. Mary was in the employment of the linendraper — Limbird's, in Regent Street. It is a firm of wide repute, and employs a great number of hands, some of whom sleep in the house. This was the case with Mary Melladew, who went to her work on Monday morning and did not return home until Saturday night. Elizabeth, or Lizzie as she was always called, was employed by Madame Michel, in Baker Street. She went to her work at half-past eight every morning and returned home at half-past seven every night. The printing-office in which Mr. Melladew is engaged employs two readers, a night reader and a day reader.

Mr. Melladew is the day reader, his hours being from nine in the morning till seven in the evening. But on Satur days he has a much longer spell ; he is due in the office at eight in the morning, and he remains until two or three hours past midnight — a stretch of eighteen or nineteen hours. By that time all the work for the Sunday edition of the weekly newspaper is done, and the outside pages are being worked off on the steam presses. Now, upon the Saturday morning on which, so far as I am concerned, the enthralling interest of my _ story com mences, certain important events had occurred in my career and in that of Mr. MeUadew. Exactly one month previous to that day, the firm in which I had been employed for a great many years had given me a month's notice to leave. My dismissal was not caused by any lapse of duty on my part ; it was simply that business had been for some time in a bad state, and that my employers found it necessary to reduce their staff.

Among those who received notice to quit, I, unfortunately, was included. Therefore, when I rose on Saturday morning I was in the dismal position of a man out of work, my time having expired on the day before. This was of serious importance to me. With Mr. Mella dew the case was different. In what unexpectedly occurred to him there was bright sunshine, to be succeeded by black darkness. He had visited me on the Friday night, and I per ceived at once that he was in a state of intense and plea surable excitement. " I have come to tell you some good news," he said. For a moment I thought that this good news might affect myself, and might bring about a favourable turn in my affairs, but Mr. Melladew's next words dispelled the hope. " I am the happiest man in London," he said. I reflected gravely, but not enviously, upon my own position, and waited for Mr. Melladew to explain himself.

" Did I ever mention to you," he asked, " that I had a brother-in-law in Australia ?" "Yes," I replied, "you have spoken of him lately two or three times." " So many years had passed," said Mr. Melladew, "since my wife heard from him that I had almost for gotten him. He is her brother, you know, and his name is Portland — Richard Portland. That was my wife's name before we were married— not Richard, of course, but Portland." He laughed, and rubbed his leg with his right hand ; in his left hand was a letter. " It was about eight months ago that we received a letter from him, asking us to give him information about our family and circumstances. He did not say anything about his own, so we were left quite in the dark as to whether he was rich or poor, or a married man or a bachelor. However, my wife answered his letter, and sent him the pictures of our two girls, and in her letter she asked whether he was married and had a family, and said also that she would like him to send us their pictures.

Well, we heard nothing further from him till to-day. Another letter came from him while I was at the office. You may read it ; there is nothing private in it. It isn't from Australia ; it is written from Southampton, you see. But that is not the only surprise in it." I took the letter and read it. It was, indeed, a letter to give pleasurable surprise to the receiver. Without any announcement to Mr. Melladew of his intention, Mr. Portland had left Australia, and was now in Southampton. He intended to start by an early train on Saturday morning for London, and would come straight to his brother-in law's house. In the letter he replied to the questions put by Mrs. Melladew. He was a bachelor, without family ties of any kind in Australia. Moreover, he had made his fortune, and it was the portraits of his two nieces which were the main cause of his return to England.

Their beauty had evidently made a deep impression upon him. He spoke of them and of Mrs. Melladew in the most affectionate terms, and said it was a great pleasure to him to think that he was coming to a home which he hoped he might look upon as partly his own. He sent his warmest love to them all, and in pleasantly tender words, the mean ing of which could scarcely be mistaken, he desired a message to be given to his " dear nieces," to the effect that "their ship had come home." I handed the letter back to Mr. Melladew, and expressed my gratification at the good news. "It is good news," he said gleefully, "the best_ of news. I knew you would be pleased. I am wondering whether it is a large or a small fortune he has made. My wife says a large one." " And I say a large one," I remarked. "What makes you of that opinion?" inquired Mr. Melladew.

" Well, in the first place there are so many large for tunes made in Australia." " That is true." " Then, money being so much more plentiful there than here, a man gets to think less of a httle than we do. His ideas become larger, I mean. At any time these last dozen years a hundred pounds would have been a Godsend to me, and I should have thought of it so " " So would I," interposed Mr. Melladew. " But if you and I were in a land of gold, we should, I daresay, think much more lightly of a hundred pounds. I wish I had emigrated when I was first married ; I had the chance, and let it slip. But it's no use crying over spilt milk." - .." Not a bit of use," said Mr. Melladew ; " life's a per petual grind here, and I am truly grateful for the hght this letter has let in upon us. You've given me two reasons for thinking my brother-in-law's fortune a large one.

Have you any otbers ?" " Well, he speaks of your daughters' ship having come home. That looks as if he meant to provide for them." " It does look like it," said Mr. Melladew ; and I saw that my arguments had given him pleasure. " My wife has a reason, also, for thinking so. She says, when Dick — that is her brother, you know — went away he declared he would never come back to England unless he could come back a very rich man. « And,' says my wife, ' what Dick said, he'd stick to.' She is sure of that. It's wonderful, isn'it ? He didn't have a sovereign to bless himself with when he left England, and now — but it's no use speculat ing. We shall know everything soon. You will understand my feelings ; you have children of your own." I had indeed, and it made me rueful to think of them. Getting another situation in such hard times was no easy matter.

"It isn't for myself," resumed Mr. Melladew, "that I am overjoyed at the better prospect before us : it is for my girls. Perhaps it means that they will not have to go out to work any longer. They are good girls, but they are so pretty, and have such engaging ways, that I have often been disturbed by the circumstance of their not being so much under my own and their mother's eyes as we would wish them to be. It could not be helped hitherto. There's the question of dress, now. You can manage tolerably well when they're little girls ; a clever woman like my wife can turn and twist, and cut up old things in a way to make the little ones look quite nice ; but when they become young women, with all sorts of new ideas in their pretty heads, it is another pair of shoes. It's natural, too, that they should want a little pocket money to spend upon innocent pleasures and harmless vanities.

We were young ourselves once, weren't we ? We found we couldn't afford to give the girls what they wanted. They saw it, too, so they made up their minds, without saying a word to hs, to look out for situations for themselves, and for months they haven't been a farthing's expense to us. They even give their mother a trifle a week towards the home. Good girls, the best of girls ; I should be a miserable man without them. Still, as I said, I have been uneasy about them : there are so many scoundrels in the world ready with honeyed words to turn a girl's head ; and it hurts me to think that they have their little secrets which they don't ask us to share. Now, thank God, it will be all right. My brother-in-law will be here to-morrow, -and when he sees Lizzie and Mary he will be confirmed in his kind intentions towards them.

Thej can leave their situations ; and if any man wishes to pay them attentions he can do so in a straightforward manner in the home in which they were brought up." He was in the blithest of spirits, and I cordially re newed my congratulations on his good fortune. In return, he condoled with me on the unpromising change in my own prospects. I was not very cheerful — no man could be in such a position — but I am not in the habit of magnify ing my misfortunes to my friends, and I plucked up my spirits. " You will soon get another situation," said Mr. Mel ladew. " I hope so," I rephed ; " I cannot afford to keep long out of one." " It may be in my power to give you a lift," he said kindly. ' ' Who knows what may turn up in the course of the next few hours ?" I attached no signification to this not uncommon re mark at the time it was uttered, but it recurred to me afterwards, charged with sad and terrible import.

We fell to again discussing the matter of which he was full. "I am almost ashamed of my good luck," said Mr. Melladew, " when I think what has happened to you." "A man must accept the ups and downs of life with courage," I said, " and must put the best face he can upon them." We were true friends, and I had a sincere respect for him as a worthy fellow who had faithfully performed his duties to his family and employers. He was passionately fond of his two daughters, and frequently spoke of them as the greatest blessing in his life. It was, indeed, delight ful to witness the affection he bestowed upon them in the happy home of which he was the head. They were girls of which any man might have been proud, being not only beautiful, but bright and witty, and full of animation. Mr. MeUadew and I chatted together for another haU hour, and then he wished me good-night.

" It is fortunate," he said, " that I got away from the office an hour earlier than usual. I shall be at home when Lizzie returns from her work, and I want to be the first to tell her the good news. How excited she will be ! There was a friend at the house last night, who told us our for tunes. Lizzie is very fond of having her fortune told. * There, father,' she says, ' didn't my fortune say that I was to receive a letter? And I've got one.' As if there was anything out of the way in receiving a letter ! Last night she was told that a great and wonderful surprise was in store for her. WeU, there is, but I am certain the fortune-teller knew as much about its nature as the man in the moon." " And Mary ?" I said. " WiU you tell her to-night ?" "No," replied Mr. Melladew, "we will wait tiU she comes home to-morrow7.

When she sees her uncle from Australia sitting in my arm-chair, she won't know what to think of it. Happy girls, happy girls !" "And happy father and mother, too," I said. "Yes, yes," he said, with great feeling, " and happy father and mother too." It was in no envious spirit that I contrasted his good luck with my bad, but had I suspected what the next few hours had in store for him, I should have thanked God for my lot. We have reason to be profoundly grateful for the ills we escape.

Chapter II

I AM THE RECIPIENT OF TERRIBLE NEWS. On Saturday morning I rose early, with the strange feel ings of a man whose habits of life had been suddenly and violently wrenched out of their usual course. I wandered up and down the stairs and into all the rooms in the house, and to the street-door, where I stood looking vacantly along the street, perhaps for the situation I had lost, as though it were something I had dropped by accident and could pick up again. Two or three neighbours passed and gave me good-morning, and one paused and asked if I was not well. "Not well?" I echoed, somewhat irritably; "I am weU, quite well. What makes you think otherwise ?" " 0," he answered apologeticaUy, " only seeing you here, that's aU. It's so unusual." He passed on, looking once or twice behind him. Unusual? Of course it was unusual.

Everything was unusual, everything in the world, which seemed to be turned topsy - turvy. If the people in the street had walked on their heads instead of their feet it would not have surprised me very much. I should have regarded it as quite in keeping with the fact that I was standing at my own street-door in idleness at half-past eight o'clock on a Saturday morning ; I could not remember the time when such a thing had occurred to me. Standing thus in a state of semi-stupefaction, the post man came up and gave me a letter. This recaUed me to myself. " Now," thought I, as I turned the envelope over in my hand, " whom is it from, and what does it contain ?" At first I had an unreasonable hope that it was from my employers, imploring me to come back, but a glance at the address convinced me that it was a foolish hope.

The writing was strange to me, and the envelope was a common one, and was fastened with sealing-wax bearing the impres sion of a thimble. I opened and read the letter, and although it did not contain the osier of a situation, or hold out the prospect of one, the contents interested me. I shall have occasion presently to refer to this letter more par ticularly, and shaU at present content myself with saying that had it not arrived this story would never have been written. While my wife and I were at breakfast we spoke of it, and I said it was my intention to comply with the request it contained. DEVLLN THE BARBER. 11 Over breakfast, also, we reviewed our position. During my years of employment I had managed to save very httle money, and upon reckoning up what I had in my purse and what I owed, I arrived at a balance in my favour of a little less than four pounds, which represented the whole of my worldly wealth.

A poor look-out, and I was reflecting upon it gloomily, when my good little wife, with a tender depre catory smile, laid before me on the table a Post Office savings-book. " What is this ?" I asked. " Look," she replied. The book was made out in her name, and the smaU deposits, extending over a number of years, made therein showed a credit of more than twenty pounds. " Yours ?" I said, in wonder. " Really yours ?" " No," said my wife. " Yours." My heart beat with joy ; these twenty pounds were like a reprieve. I should have time to look about, without being tortured by fears of immediate want. I drew my wife to my side, and embraced her. Twenty pounds, with which to commence over again the battle of life ! Why it was a fortune ! How the httle woman had contrived to save so much out of her scanty housekeeping money was a mystery to me, but she had done it by hook or by crook, as the saying is, and she now experienced a true and sweet delight in handing it over to me.

"WeU," said I, rubbing my hands cheerfuUy, "things might look worse than they do — a great deal worse. We have a little store to help us over compulsorily idle days, and, thank God, aU the children are weU." It was much to be grateful for, and we kissed each other in token of our gratitude, and also as a pledge that we would not lose heart, but would battle bravely on. I had just finished my second cup of tea when the street-door was hastUy opened, and my friend- Mr. MeUadew staggered, or rather fell, into the room, with a face as white as a ghost. His limbs were trembling so that he could not stand, and my wife, much alarmed, started up and helped him into a chair. On this special morning we had breakfasted late, and as my wife was assisting Mr. MeUadew the clock struck ten. It sometimes happens that the most ordinary occurrences become of unusual importance^by reason of circum stances with which they have no connection.

Thus it was that the striking of ten o'clock, as I gazed upon the white face of my visitor, fiUed me with an apprehension of impending evil. " Good God !" I cried. " What has happened ?" My thought was that there had been an accident to the train by which Mr. Melladew expected his brother-in law from Southampton, but I was soon undeceived. It was difficult to extract anything intelligible from Mr. Melladew in his terrible state of agitation ; but eventuaUy I was placed in possession of the following particulars. Mr. Melladew had risen early and had left his wife abed, and, as he supposed, his daughter Lizzie. It was Mrs. Melladew's custom on Saturday mornings to take half-an-hour extra in the way of sleep, and Mr. MeUadew would prepare his own breakfast on these occasions. He did so on this morning, and left his house at twenty minutes to eight.

At eight o'clock punctuaUy he was sitting at his desk in the printing-office, reading proofs. Everything was going on as usual, the only pleasant difference being the extraordinary lightness of Mr. MeUadew's heart as he thought of his rich brother-in-law from Austraha, perhaps at that very hour stepping into the train for London, and of his two darling children, Lizzie and Mary. He did not, however, allow this contemplation to interfere with the faithful and steady discharge of his duties, and his work pro ceeded uninterruptedly until half-past nine, when he sent his young assistant, a reading boy, into the^composing-room with the last proofs he had read, teUing him to bring back any more that were ready. A workman at the galley press had just pulled off a column of newly set-up matter, and the lad, without waiting for it to be delivered to him, took the slip from the printer's hand, and returned quickly to the reading-room.

Mr. MeUadew, receiving the shp from his assistant, was about to commence arranging the " copy," which the lad had also brought with him, when a compositor rushed in, and, snatching both slip and " copy" from Mr. MeUadew's desk, hurriedly left the room. " What's that for ?" inquired Mr. MeUadew. "I don't know, sir," replied the lad; "but there's something ' up ' in the composing-room. The men are aU standing talking in a regular fluster." "What about?" " Ain't got a notion, sir ; but they seem regular upset." Curious to ascertain what was going on, Mr. MeUadew strolled into the composing-room, and was struck by the sudden sUence which ensued upon his entrance. It was all the more singular because Mr. MeUadew, as he pushed the door open, heard the men speaking in excited voices, and had half a fancy that he heard his own name uttered in tones of pity.

" Poor MeUadew !" Yes, it was not a fancy. The words had been uttered at the moment of his entrance. The silence of the compositors, their pitying looks, confirmed it. But why should they speak of him as "poor MeUadew " at a time when life had never been so bright and fair ? What was the meaning of the pitying glances directed towards him ? The composing - room, especially on Saturdays, was a scene of lively bustle and animation, but now the men were standing idle, stick in hand, at the coiners of their frames, or tip-toeing over their cases, and the eye3 of every man there were fixed upon Mr. MeUadew. Had he been in trouble, had his wife or one of his darling daughters been ill, his thoughts would have immediately flown to his home, and he would have seen in the pitying glances of the compositors a sign of some dread misfortune ; but in his happy mood he received no such impression.

" What on earth is the matter with you aU ?" he said in a light tone. He saw the compositor who had snatched the slip of new matter from his desk, and before he could be prevented he took it from the man's hand. The compositors found their voices. " No, Mr. Melladew !" they cried. " No; don't, don't !" "Nonsense !" he said, and keeping possession of the slip, he left the composing-room for his own. " Go and get the copy," he said to the lad who had followed him. When the lad was gone he spread the sUp on the desk before him. The first words he saw formed the title of the column he was about to read : " Horrible Murder in Vic toria Park !" Beneath it were the sub-headings, " Stabbed to the Heart !" and " A Bunch of Blood-stained Daisies !" To a newspaper reader such events, shocking though they be, are unhappily no novelties, and Mr. MeUadew looked down the column, I wiU not say mechanicaUy, for he was a humane man, but steadily, and stirred no doubt by pity and indignation.