Checkmate

Chapter I. Mortlake Hall

PT1HERE stands about a mile and a half -*- beyond Islington, unless it has come down within the last two years, a singular and grand old house. It belonged to the family of Arden, once distinguished in the North umbrian counties. About fifty acres of ground, rich with noble clumps and masses of old timber, surround it ; old-world fish ponds, with swans sailing upon them, tall yew hedges, quincunxes, leaden fauns and goddesses, and other obsolete splendours sur round it. It rises, tall, florid, built of B VOL. I. CHECKMATE. Caen stone, with a palatial flight of steps, and something of the grace and dignity of the genius of Inigo Jones, to whom it is ascribed, with the shadows of ances tral trees and the stains of two centuries up on it, and a vague character of gloom and melancholy, not improved by some indica tions not actually of decay, but of something too like neglect.

It is now evening, and a dusky glow en velopes the scene. The setting sun throws its level beams, through tall drawing room windows, ruddily upon the Dutch tapestry on the opposite walls, and not un becomingly lights up the little party assem bled there. Good-natured, fat Lady May Penrose, in her bonnet, sips her tea and chats agreeably. Her carriage waits outside. You will ask who is that extremely beautiful girl who sits opposite, her large soft grey eyes CHECKMATE. 3 gazing towards the western sky with a look of abstraction, too forgetful for a time of her company, leaning upon the slender hand she has placed under her cheek. How silken and golden-tinted the dark brown hair that grows so near her brows, making her forehead low, and marking with its broad line the beautiful oval of her face !

Is there car mine anywhere to match her brilliant lips ? And when, recollecting something to tell Lady May, she turns on a sudden, smiling, how soft and pretty the dimples, and how even the little row of pearls she discloses ! This is Alice Arden, whose singularly handsome brother Richard, with some of her tints and outlines translated into masculine beauty, stands leaning on the back of a prie dieu chair, and chatting gaily. Butwho isthe thin, tall man — theonlysinis ter figure in the group — with one hand in his breast, the other on a cabinet, as he leans b2 CHECKMATE. against the wall ? Who is that pale, thin lipped man, "with cadaverous aspect and broken beak," whose eyes never seem to light up, but maintain their dismal darkness while his pale lips smile ? Those eyes are fixed on the pretty face of Alice Arden, as she talks to Lady May, with a strangely in tense gaze.

His eyebrows rise a little, like those of Mephistopheles, towards his temples, with an expression that is inflexibly sarcastic, and sometimes menacing. His jaw is slightly underhung, a formation which heightens the satirical effect of his smile, and, by con trast, marks the depression of his nose. There was at this time in London a Mr. Longcluse, an agreeable man, a convenient man, who had got a sort of footing in many houses, nobody exactly knew how. He had a knack of obliging people when they really wanted a trifling kindness, and another of holding fast his advantage, and, without CHECKMATE. seeming to push, or ever appearing to flat ter, of maintaining the acquaintance he had once founded. He looked about eight-and thirty: he was really older. He was gentle manlike, clever, and rich ; but not a soul of all the men who knew him had ever heard of him at school or college.

About his birth, parentage, and education, about his "life and adventures," he was dark. How were his smart acquaintance made ? Oddly, as we shall learn when we know him a little better. It was a great pity that there were some odd things said about this very agreeable, obliging, and gentlemanlike per son. It was a pity that more was not known about him. The man had enemies, no doubt, and from the sort of reserve that enveloped him their opportunity arose. But were there not about town hundreds of men, well enough accepted, about whose early days no one cared a pin, and everything was just as dark? CHECKMATE. Now Mr. Longcluse, with his pallid face, his flat nose, his sarcastic eyebrows, and thin lipped smile, was overlooking this little company, his shoulder leaning against the frame that separated two pieces of the pretty Dutch tapestry which covered the walls.

" By-the-by, Mr. Longcluse — you can tell me, for you always know everything," said Lady May — " is there still any hope of that poor little child's recovering — I mean the one in that dreadful murder in Thames Street, where the six poor little children were stabbed ?" Mr. Longcluse smiled. "I'm so glad, Lady May, I can answer you upon good authority ! I stopped to-day to ask Sir Edwin Dudley that very question through his carriage window, and he said that he had just been to the hospital to see the poor little thing, and that it was likely to do well." CHECKMATE. 7 " I'm so glad ! And what do they say can have been the motive of the murder ?" " Jealousy, they say ; or else the man is mad." " I should not wonder. I'm sure I hope he is. But they should take care to put him under lock and key."

" So they will, rely on it ; that's a matter of course." " I don't know how it is," continued Lady May, who was garrulous, " that murders in terest people so much, who ought to be simply shocked at them." " We have a murder in our family, you know," said Richard Arden. "That was poor Henry Arden — I know," she answered, lowering her voice and dropping her eyes, with a side glance at Alice, for she did not know how she might like to hear it talked of. " Oh, that happened when Alice was only CHECKMATE. five months old, I think," said Richard ; and slipping into the chair beside Lady May, he laid his hand upon hers with a smile, and whispered, leaning towards her — " You are always so thoughtful ; it is so nice of you !" A.nd this short speech ended, his eyes re mained fixed for some seconds, with a glow of tender admiration, on those of fat Lady May, who simpered with effusion, and did not draw her hand away until she thought she saw Mr. Longcluse glance their way.

It was quite true, all he said of Lady May. It would not be easy to find a simpler or more good-natured person. She was very rich also, and, it was said by people who love news and satire, had long been willing to share her gold and other chattels with hand some Richard Arden, who being but five and-twenty, might very nearly have been her son. CHECKMATE. 9 " I remember that horrible affair," said Mr. Longcluse, with a little shrug and a shake of his head. " Where was I then — Paris or Vienna ? Paris it was. I recollect it all now, for my purse was stolen by the very man who made his escape — Mace was his name ; he was a sort of low man on the turf, I believe. I was very young then — somewhere about seventeen, I think." " You can't have been more, of course," said good-natured Lady May. " I should like very much some time to hear all about it," continued Mr. Longcluse.

" So you shall," said Richard, " whenever you like." " Every old family has a murder, and a ghost, and a beauty also, though she does not always live and breathe, except in the canvas of Lely, or Kneller, or Reynolds: and they, you know, had roses and lilies to give away at discretion, in their paint- CHECKMATE. boxes, and were courtiers," remarked Mr. Longcluse, " who dealt sometimes in the old-fashioned business of making compli ments. 1 say happy the man who lives in those summers when the loveliness of some beautiful family culminates, and who may, at ever such a distance, gaze and worship." This ugly man spoke in a low tone, and his voice was rather sweet. He looked as he spoke at Miss Arden, from whom, indeed, his eyes did not often wander. "Very prettily said!" applauded Lady May affably.

" I forgot to ask you, Lady May," inquired Alice, cruelly, at this moment, " how the pretty little Italian greyhound is that was so ill — better, I hope." " Ever so much — quite well almost. I'd have taken him out for a drive to-day, poor dear little Pepsie ! but that I thought the sun just a little overpowering. Didn't you ?" CHECKMATE. 11 " Perhaps a little." Mr. Longcluse lowered his eyes as he leaned against the wall and sighed, with a pained smile, that even upon his plain, pallid face, was pathetic. Did proud Richard Arden perceive the de votion of the dubious Mr. Longcluse — un defined in position, in history, in origin, in char acter, in all things but in wealth ? Of course he did, perfectly. But that wealth was said to be enormous. There were Jews, who ought to know, who said he was worth one million eight hundred thousand pounds, and that his annual income was considerably more than a hundred thousand pounds a year. * Was a man like that to be dismissed with out inquiry ?

Had he not found him good natured and gentlemanlike ? What about those stories that circulated among Jews and croupiers ? Enemies might affect to believe CHECKMATE. them, and quote the old saw, "There is never smoke without fire ;" but dare one of them utter a word of the kind aloud ? Did they stand the test of five minutes' inquiry, such even as he had given them ? Had he found a particle of proof, of evidence, of suspicion ? Not a spark. What man had ever escaped stories who was worth forging a lie about ? Here was a man worth more than a million. Why, if he let him slip through his fingers, some duchess would pounce on him for her daughter. It was well that Longcluse was really in love — well, perhaps, that he did not appreciate the social omnipotence of money. "Where is Sir Reginald at present ?" asked Lady May.

" Not here, you may be sure," answered Richard. "My father does not admit my visits, you know." CHECKMATE. " Really ! And is that miserable quarrel kept up still ?" " Only too true. He is in France at pre sent; at Vichy — ain't it Vichy?" he said to Alice. But she, not choosing to talk, said simply, " Yes— Vichy." " I'm going to take Alice into town again ; she has promised to stay with me a little longer. And I think you neglect her a little, don't you ? You ought to come and see her a little oftener," pleaded Lady May, in an undertone. " I only feared I was boring you all. No thing, you know, would give me half so much pleasure," he answered. "Well,then, she'll expect your visits, mind." A little' silence followed. Richard was vexed with his sister ; she was, he thought, snubbing his friend Longcluse.

Well, when once he had spoken his mind CHECKMATE. and disclosed his treasures, Richard flattered himself he had some influence ; and did not Lady May swear by Mr. Longcluse ? And was his father, the most despotic and violent of baronets, and very much dipt, likely to listen to sentimental twaddle pleading against a hundred thousand a year? So, Miss Alice, if you were disposed to talk nonsense, it was not very likely to be listened to, and sharp and short logic might ensue. How utterly unconscious of all this she sits there, thinking, I daresay, of quite another person ! Mr. Longcluse was also for a moment in profound reverie ; so was Richard Arden. The secrecy of thought is a pleasant privi lege to the thinker — perhaps hardly less a boon to the person pondered upon. If each man's forehead could project its shadows and the light of his spirit shine through, and the confluence of figures and CHECKMATE. 15 phantoms that cross and march behind it become visible, how that magic-lantern might appal good easy people 1 And now the ladies fell to talking and comparing notes about their guipure lace work.

" How charming yours looks, my dear, round that little table !" exclaimed Lady May in a rapture. " I'm sure I hope mine may turn out half as pretty. I wanted to compare ; I'm not quite sure whether it is exactly the same pattern." And so on, until it was time for them to order their wings for town. The gentlemen have business of their own to transact, or pleasures to pursue. Mr. Longcluse has his trap there, to carry them into town when their hour comes. They can only put the ladies into their places, and bid them good-bye, and exchange parting reminders and good-natured speeches. CHECKMATE. Pale Mr. Longcluse, as he stands on the steps, looks with his dark eyes after the dis appearing carriage, and sighs deeply. He has forgotten all for the moment but one dream. Richard Arden wakens him, by laying his hand on his shoulder.

" Come, Longcluse, let us have a cigar in the billiard-room, and a talk. I have a box of Manillas that I think you will say are delicious — that is, if you like them full flavoured."

Chapter II. Martha Tansey

" T) Y-THE-BY, Longcluse," said Richard, -*-' as they entered together the long tiled passage that leads to the billiard-room, "you like pictures. There is one here, ban ished to the housekeeper's room, that they say is a Vandyck ; we must have it cleaned and backed, and restored to its old place — but would you care to look at it ?" " Certainly, I should like extremely," said Mr. Longcluse. They were now at the door of the house keeper's room, and Richard Arden knocked. " Come in," said the quavering voice of the old woman from within. VOL. I. c CHECKMATE. Richard Arden opened the door wide. The misty rose-coloured light of the setting sun filled the room. From the wall right opposite, the pale portrait of Sir Thomas Arden, who fought for the king during the great Civil War, looked forth from his deep dingy frame full upon them, stern and me lancholy ; the misty beams touching the softer lights of his long hair and the gleam of his armour so happily, that the figure came out from its dark background, and seem ed ready to step forth to meet them.

As it happened, there was no one in the room but old Mrs. Tansey, the housekeeper, who received Richard Arden standing. From the threshold, Mr. Longcluse, lost in wonder at the noble picture, gazed on it, with the exclamation, almost a cry, " Good heaven ! what a noble work ! I had no idea there could be such a thing in existence aud so little known." And he stood for awhile in CHECKMATE. a rapture, gazing from the threshold on the portrait. At sound of that voice, with a vague and terrible recognition, the housekeeper turned with a start towards the door, expecting, you'd have fancied from her face, the en trance of a ghost. There was a tremble in the voice with which she cried, " Lord ! what's that ?" a tremble in the hand extended towards the door, and a shake also in the pale frowning face, from which shone her glassy eyes.

Mr. Longcluse stepped in, and the old woman's gaze became, as he did so, more shrinking and intense. When he saw her he recoiled, as a man might who had all but trod upon a snake ; and these two people gazed at one another with a strange, un certain scowl. In Mr. Longcluse's case, this dismal ca price of countenance did not last beyond a c CHECKMATE. second or two. Richard Arden, as he turned his eyes from the picture to say a word to his companion, saw it for a moment, and it faded from his features — saw it, and the darkened countenance of the old house keeper, with a momentary shock. He glanced from one to the other quickly, with a look of unconscious surprise. That look instantly recalled Mr. Longcluse, who, laying his hand on Richard Arden's arm, said, with a laugh — " I do believe I'm the most nervous man in the world."

"You don't find the room too hot?" said Richard, inwardly ruminating upon the strange looks he had just seen exchanged. " Mrs. Tansey keeps a sire all the year round — don't you, Martha?" - Martha did not answer, nor seem to hear ; she pressed her lean hand, instead, to her heart, and drew back to a sofa and sat down, muttering, " My God, lighten our darkness, CHECKMATE. we beseech thee !" and she looked as if she were on the point of fainting. " That is a true Vandyck," said Mr. Long cluse, who was now again looking steadfast ly at the picture. " It deserves to rank among his finest portraits. I have never seen anything of his more forcible. You really ought not to leave it here, and in this state." He walked over and raised the lower end of the frame gently from the wall. " Yes, just as you said, it wants to be backed.

That portrait would not stand a shake, I can tell you. The canvas is per fectly rotten, and the paint — if you stand here you'll see — is ready to flake off. It is an awful pity. You shouldn't leave it in such danger." " No," said Richard, who was looking at the old woman. " I don't think Martha's well — will you excuse me for a moment?" And he was at the housekeeper's side. CHECKMATE. " What's the matter, Martha ?" he said kindly. " Are you ill?" " Very bad, sir. I beg your pardon for sitting, but I could not help ; and the gentle man will excuse me." " Of course — but what's the matter ?" said Richard. " A sudden frisrht like, sir. I'm all over on a tremble," she quavered. " See how exquisitely that hand is paint ed," continued Mr. Longcluse, pursuing his criticism, " and the art with which the lights are managed.

It is a wonderful picture. It makes one positively angry to see it in that state, and anywhere but in the most con spicuous and honourable place. If I owned that picture, I should never be tired show ing it. I should have it where everyone who came into my house should see it ; and I should watch every crack and blur on its surface, as I should the symptoms of a dying CHECKMATE. child, or the looks of the mistress of my heart. Now just look at this. Where is he? Oh!" " I beg your pardon, a thousand times, but I find my old friend Martha feels a little faint and ill," said Richard. " Dear me ! I hope she's better," said Mr. Longcluse, approaching with solicitude. "Can I be of any use ? Shall I touch the bell ? " " I'm better, sir, I thank you ; I'm much better," said the old woman. " It won't signify nothing, only — " She was looking hard again at Mr. Longcluse, who now seemed perfectly at his ease, and showed in his countenance nothing but the commisera tion befitting the occasion.

" A sort of a weakness — a fright like — and I can't think, quite, what came over me." " Don't you think a glass of wine might do her good ?" asked Mr. Longcluse. "Thanks, sir, I don't drink it. Oh, CHECKMATE. lighten our darkness, we beseech thee ! Good Lord, a' mercy on us ! I take them drops, hartshorn and valerian, on a little water, when I feel nervous like. I don't know when I was took wi' t' creepin's be fore." " You look better," said Richard. " I'm quite right again, sir," she said, with a sigh. She had taken her " drops," and seemed restored. " Hadn't you better have one of the maids with you? I'm going now ; I'll send some one," he said. " You must get all right, Martha. It pains me to see you ill. You're a very old friend, remember. You must be all right again ; and, if you like, we'll have the doctor out, from town."

He said this holding her thin old hand very kindly, for he was by no means with out good-nature. So, sending the promised attendant, he and Longcluse proceeded to CHECKMATE. 25 the billiard-room, where, having got the lamps lighted, they began to enjoy their smoke. Each, I fancy, was thinking of the little incident in the housekeeper's room. There was a long silence. " Poor old Tansey ! She looked awfully ill," said Richard Arden at last. " By Jove ! she did. Is that her name ? She rather frightened me," said Mr. Long cluse. " I thought we had stumbled on a mad woman — she stared so. Has she ever had any kind of fit, poor thing ?" " No. She grumbles a good deal, but I really think she's a healthy old woman enough. She says she was frightened." " We came in too suddenly, perhaps ?" "No, that wasn't it, for I knocked first," said Arden.

" Ah, yes, so you did. I only know she frightened me. I really thought she was out of her mind, and that she was going to CHECKMATE. stick me with a knife, perhaps," said Mr. Longcluse, with a little laugh and a shrug. Arden laughed, and puffed away at his cigar till he had it in a glow again. Was this explanation of what he had seen in Longcluse's countenance — a picture present ed but for a fraction of a second, but thence forward ineffaceable — quite satisfactory ? In a short time Mr. Longcluse asked whe ther he could have a little brandy and water, which accordingly was furnished. In his first glass there was a great deal of brandy, and very little water indeed ; and his second, sipped more at his leisure, was but little more diluted. A very faint flush tinged his pallid cheeks. Richard Arden was, by this time, thinking of his own debts and ill-luck, and at last he said, " I wonder what the art of getting on in the world is.

Is it communicable ? or is it no art all, but a simple run of luck ?" CHECKMATE. 27 Mr. Longcluse smiled scornfully. "There are men who have immense faith in them selves." said he, " who have indomitable will, and who are provided with craft and pliancy for any situation. Those men are giants from the first to the last hour of action, unless, as happened to Napoleon, success enervates them. In the cradle, they strangle serpents ; blind, they pull down palaces ; old as Dandolo, they burn fleets and capture cities. It is only when they have taken to bragging that the lues Napoleonica has set in. Now I have been, in a sense, a success ful man — I am worth some money. If I were the sort of man I describe, I should be worth, if I cared for it, ten times what I have in as many years. But I don't care to confess I made my money by flukes.

If, having notenderness, you have two attributes — profound cunning and perfect audacity — nothing can keep you back. I'm a common- CHECKMATE. place man, I say ; but I know what consti tutes power. Life is a battle, and the general's qualities win." " I have not got the general's qualities, I think ; and I know I haven't luck," said Ar den,; " so for my part I may as well drift, with as little trouble as may be, wherever the current drives. Happiness is not for all men. " Happiness is for no man," said Mr. Long cluse. And a little silence followed. " Now suppose a fellow has got more money than ever he dreamed of," he resumed, "and finds money, after all, not quite what he fancied, and that he has come to long for a prize quite distinct and infinitely more precious ; so that he finds, at last, that he never can be happy for an hour without it, and yet, for all his longing and his pains, sees it is unattainable as that star."

(He pointed to a planet that shone down through the sky- CHECKMATE. light.) " Is that man happy ? He carries with him, go where he may, an aching heart, the pangs of jealousy and despair, and the longing of the damned for Paradise. That is my miserable case." Richard Arden laughed, as he lighted his second cigar. " Well, if that's your case, you can't be one of those giants you described just now. Women are not the obdurate and cruel crea tures you fancy. They are proud, and vain, and unforgiving; but the misery and the perseverance of a lover constitute a worship that first flatters and then wins them. Re member this, a woman finds it very hard to give up a worshipper, except for another. Now why should you despair ? You are a gentleman, you are a clever fellow, an agree able fellow ; you are what is accounted a young man still, and you can make your wife rich.

They all like that. It is not CHECKMATE. avarice, but pride. I don't know the young lady, but I see no good reason why you should fail." " I wish, Arden, I dare tell you all ; but some day I'll tell you more." " The only thing is You'll not mind my telling you, as you have been so frank with me?" " Pray say whatever you think. I shall be ever so much obliged. I forget so many things about English manners and ways of thinking — I have lived so very much abroad. Should I be put up for a club?" " Well, I should not mind a club just yet, till you know more people — quite time enough. But you must manage better. Why should those Jew fellows, and other people, who don't hold, and never can, a position the least like yours, be among your acquaintance? You must make it a rule to drop all objectionable persons, and know CHECKMATE. 31 none but good people.

Of course, when you are strong enough it doesn't so much matter, provided you keep them at arm's length. But you passed your younger days abroad, as you say, and not being yet so well known here, you will have to be par ticular — don't you see ? A man is so much judged by his acquaintance ; and, in fact, it is essential." " A thousand thanks for any hints that strike you," said Longcluse goodhumouredly. " They sound frivolous ; but these trifles have immense weight with women," said Arden. " By Jove !" he added, glancing at his watch, " we shall be late. Your trap is at the door — suppose we go ?"

Chapter III. Mr

LONGCLUSE OPENS HIS HEART. spHE old housekeeper had drawn near her -*- window, and stood close to the pane, through which she looked out upon the star-lit night. The stars shine down over the foliage of huge old trees. Dim as sha dows stand the horse and tax-cart that await Mr. Longcluse and Richard Arden, who now at length appear. The groom fixes the lamps, one of which shines full on Mr. Long cluse's peculiar face. " Ay — the voice; I could a' sworn to that," she muttered. " It went through me like a scythe. But that's a strange face ; and yet there's summat in it, just a hint like, to call CHECKMATE. my thoughts out a-seeking, up and down, and to and fro ; and 'twill not let me rest until I come to find the truth. Mace? No, no. Lang ly ? Not he. Yet 'twas summat that night, I think — summat awful.

And who was there ? No one. Lighten our darkness, we beseech thee, 0 Lord! for my heart is sore troubled." Up jumped the groom. Mr. Longcluse had the reins in his hand, and he and his companion passed swiftly by the window, and the flash of the lamps crossed the pan elled walls of the housekeeper's room. The light danced wildly from corner to corner of the wainscot, accompanied by the shadows of two geraniums in bow-pots on the window stool. The lamps flew by, and she still stood there, with the palsied shake of her head and hand, looking out into the darkness, in rumination. Arden and Longcluse glided through the night air in silence, under the mighty old vol. i. v CHECKMATE. trees that had witnessed generations of Ar dens, down the darker, narrow road, and by the faded old inn, once famous in those re gions as the " Guy of Warwick," representing still on its board, in tarnished gold and colours, that redoubted champion, with a boar's head on the point of his sword, and a grotesque lion winding itself fawningly about his horse's legs.