The Phantom Future

Front matter

VOL. II, BY HENRY SETON MERRIMAN AUTHOR OF " YOUNG MISTLEY " IN TWO VOLUMES VOL. II. LONDON RICHARD BENTLEY AND SON UnbUsInrs in ©rbinara lo tier gjajestg % Quira 1 888 [All rights reserve tf] Richard Clay & Sons, Limited, london and bunqay. CONTENTS OF VOLUME II. CHAP. PAGE I. FORTUNE SMILES ... ... ... ... 1 II. A SHADOW FORECAST ... ... ... ... 17 III. DIPLOMACY ... ... ... ... ... 36 IV. THE PLOT ... ... ... ... ... 51 V. FLOWERS ... ... ... ... ... ... 64 VI. DANGER ... ... ... ... ... ... 76 VII. THE RECKONING UP ... ... ... ... 92 VIII. FOREWARNED ... ... ... ... ... 101 IX. FOR THE SHIP'S SAKE ... ... ... ... 120 X. IMPULSE ... ... ... ... ... ... 140 XI. THE BUSHEL RAISED ... .., ... ... 160 XII. THE FIRE ... ... ... ... ... 178 XIII. THE VALLEY OF THE SHADOW ... ... ... 194 XIV. "BE YE THEREFORE VERY COURAGEOUS" ... 210 XV. GOLDHEATH AGAIN ... ... ... ... 231 XVI. SAM EXPLAINS ... ... ... ... ...

Chapter I. Fortune Smiles

A FEW mornings later, Crozier was placidly disposing of a very fair breakfast with the help of a newspaper propped up against the coffee-pot, when Tom Valliant appeared. The medical student placed his hat gravely upon the head of a bronze statuette which stood upon the mantelpiece, and then sat down on a chair which he brought to the table. " Good morning, Samuel," he said. Then he raised the covers of one or two dishes with quaint anxiety. " The cupboard is bare," he remarked, regretfully. VOL. II. 1 "Yes; I have cleared things off a little; but of course you have had your breakfast." " That is so," answered Valliant, as he drew the coffee-pot towards him ; " but neverthe less . . . " — he raised the lid and sniffed the steam that rose — " I will drink your second cup for you, just to demonstrate that our diplomatic relation ship is perfectly friendly."

" Will you have it in an egg-cup or the slop basin ? " asked Crozier, gravely. " Slop-basin, please. Holds more," replied Valliant. He was searching busily in the breast pocket of his coat, and presently he produced a card. " Mrs. Abergeldie Gibb," he read aloud, with much unction, " at home Tuesday, February the twenty-first, from eight to twelve. Dancing. R. S. V. P. Samuel Crozier, Esquire." He laid the card aside, made a little bow, accompanied by a courteous gesture of the hand, and added in a congratulatory tone — " There you are, my boy ! What do you think of that." Crozier took up the card, and examined it FORTUNE SMILES. critically, while his companion stirred his coffee with a table-spoon. " Are you going ? " he asked. "That," answered Valliant, "is precisely what I don't know. There are many questions in that one — wheels within wheels, as it were; notes of interrogation inside notes of interrogation, till the perspective is lost in a haze.

Sugar, please ! First of all, are you going ? Secondly, is it worth the long journey ? Thirdly, think of the dissi pation of the thing. Eight to twelve ; twelve o'clock ! Midnight ! Can we stand it. Are our constitutious equal to it ? Toast, please ! " " Mine is. Have some butter ! " Crozier rose from his seat and consulted a small diary which lay upon the writing-table. As he turned the pages he happened to glance round, and found Valliant's eyes fixed upon him with a certain questioning eagerness. There was no trace of a smile upon his face now. " Yes," the singer continued, after a short search, " I am free on Tuesday the twenty-first. I vote we go. What do you say ? " " Oh yes," answered Tom, carelessly, while he buttered a piece of toast. " Oh yes, we may as well go. I don't think I should have gone alone.

I am not such an enthusiastic dancer as you, but as you are free, let us go by all means." Crozier closed the book and returned to his seat. He looked indifferent, and somewhat dense ; not at all the sort of person to be reflect ing that Tom Valliant sometimes overacted his part — a little. "By the way," he said, with sudden energy, " I have some startling news — so startling; that I could hardly eat any breakfast." Tom Valliant again looked under the covers with some anxiety, and a weight of significance. "Let us have it," he remarked pleasantly. " I am strong — tell me everything." The singer selected a blue envelope from among his letters, which lay, methodically folded and replaced within their covers, upon the breakfast-table. " I have had a singularly friendly letter," he said, sarcastically, " from a firm of solicitors whose name I have never heard of, to tell me FORTUNE SMILES. that my mother's brother has been removed — no — I beg your pardon, has passed away.

They call him my dear uncle, but I have always understood that he was rather a disagreeable old gentleman. However, I am of a different opinion now — this letter has opened my eyes to his true worth. He has not only left me a quantity of family plate, but certain moneys duly invested as per schedule, yielding an annual income of . . . where is it ? ... of two thousand one hundred and seven pounds, ten shillings and fourpence." Valliant whistled softly. " What an uncle," he murmured sadly ; " what an uncle for a fellow to have ! Shake hands, Sam, shake hands ! It shall never be said that Thomas Valliant forsook an old friend because he was in altered circumstances — never ! " The singer shook hands gravely, and returned to the perusal of the blue letter. " One sugar-basin," he read aloud, " one cream jug, twelve large forks, twelve small forks, six table-spoons, twelve tea-spoons, and a soup ladle."

Valliant nodded his head at each item, as if to impress them upon his memory, aud when his companion folded the letter with an air of ex treme satisfaction, which was very cynical and somewhat ungrateful, he looked grave. "Well then," he said, "you are lost. The coming season will see you drawn into a vortex of well-dressed vice and fashionable wickedness — vide lady-novelists who write from the seclusion of Camberwell, where they study their subject over a penny Society paper. Scheming mothers will quarrel over you, and in the privacy of the ladies' cloak-room will say to their daughters, ' Now if that man Samuel Crozier is here — the man with the fuzzy moustache and the baritone voice — -fix him. I know for certain that he has, besides what he makes by singing, two thousand one hundred and seven pounds, ten shillings and fourpence ; twelve sugar-basins, six cream-jugs, and a soup-ladle.' " " But how do you know ?

" asked the singer, with a smile, " that scheming mothers have not known my brilliant prospects all along ? How do you know that I have not been ' fixed,' as you gracefully put it, hundreds of times ? " FORTUNE SMILES. Tom looked across the table at him with momentary gravity. " Then it is not a surprise ? " he asked. " Not quite," was the answer ; " I always knew there was a chance of it." " What a funny fellow you are ! " observed Valliant musingly, after a short pause, during which he had lighted his pipe. " And you never told me — I might have borrowed no end of money from you. If it were not that I am myself rolling in the golden rewards of honest toil, I should feel inclined to do so now." " It is very good of you to say so," replied Crozier, pleasantly, as he turned over the proof pages of a new song which an enterprising pub lisher proposed (upon a financial basis) that he should sing in public, and allow the fact to be mentioned on the cover.

After studying the score for some minutes he rose and tried the air over with the piano, singing in an undertone while Valliant smoked and watched him. " I suppose," said the latter shortly, " that you will give up this sort of thing ? " Crozier swung round on the music-stool. " What ! — sino-ing ? Not I. Nothing will make O O *— * me give that up." " Well then," urged Valliant, earnestly, " you will have to take a house, and marry one of those eager-looking musical eccentricities w*ho always wear spectacles and a pencil, go to oratorios and heavy concerts with a bundle of musical scores under their arms, and — if report be true — never fail to turn up when Samuel Crozier is going to sing." The object of this graceful flattery ignored the pleasing suggestion. He had turned his back upon his companion, and was playing the air of his new song, softly.

" No," he said, " I thought of buying a yacht — a yawl, I think. I might take the family plate to sea and throw it overboard in a gale of wind by way of lightening the vessel and removing the responsibility of that soup-ladle from my bachelor shoulders." " There is something in that," rejoined Valliant gravely. " Honestly speaking, Sam, I don't like that family plate — it is not natural, and it will inevitably lead you into ill-considered matrimony. FORTUNE SMLLES. In my vivid imagination I see you already whis pering into the ear of some fair and well-seasoned enslaver : ' If the devotion of a life-time, in addition to one cream-jug, one sugar-basin, twelve large forks and twelve small dittoes, can do aught towards a woman's happiness — Araminta, they are yours ; and there is also a soup-ladle ! ' The soup-ladle would probably settle the matter."

" I think I would sooner sink the plate in the yawl," said Crozier, with that pleasant smile of his, which somehow never waxed into a laugh. Had Syra, or some other comparatively speaking (for most of us look inwards instead of abroad) observant person been in the room then, or indeed at any other time when these two men were together, it is possible that she would have felt a peculiar tension in the atmosphere. Old friends as they were, devoted friends and up right men, their position towards each other was not honest. They were not at their ease, and each showed it unconsciously in the way and manner that belonged to his character. Tom Valliant with a gaiety and lightness of heart which were the outcome more of habit than of nature. At times it was utterly false, devoid of humour, and to an acute listener terribly sad.

Nature had in her bounty given him a light heart and a cheery courage — which is human sunshine ; but one felt that this everlasting "badinage," this subtle fear of gravity, had some meaning, and the meaning could only be that Fate had chosen to spoil Nature's good work. The light heart was fighting beneath an overwhelming weight. And Crozier ! The singer was never intended for a humorist. He was formed of good and solid material such as can be shaped into a brave man, intellectual enough for most pur poses, genial enough to become a favourite and a true friend, and strong, self-reliant, purposeful, sufficiently to win the love of a good woman, and never let her regret her choice during all her life. His quizzical cynicism, which had no real bitterness in it, was the fruit of circumstances ; under it he hid such softer qualities and virtues as are best concealed from a preying and covetous world.

FORTUNE SMILES. It was therefore somewhat pathetic to see him (labouring under the disadvantage of his greater thoughtfulness) endeavour to keep pace with his friend's lighter vein. As a rule they were excellent companions. They had many topics in common, many mutual interests, and all could be discussed openly and freely, with one exception. The mention of Goldheath brought about that strange tension which was felt by both, though each concealed the feeling as well as lay in his power. There are some things, I am convinced, which are better left unexplained. We talk of the ravelled web of human life which is one day to be disentangled, we whisper of mysteries which will be cleared up in the Hereafter ; but for my own part, I sincerely hope that everything will not be touched upon in that great clearing up of human mistakes, the final explanation of things that are dark and meaningless to us now.

I hope that many sleeping dogs will be allowed to lie. There are a thousand unexplained things in every life which, although they may never be forgotten and may influence the entire existence of several persons, are better left untouched. Among these there is of course a large majority which might very easily, and some people think, very profitably, be" explained now — from lip to ear, or with pen and paper ; but such frankness, such honesty, and such idiotic plain-spokenness would only serve to make our threescore years and ten a greater muddle than they already are. Reticence is not usually classed among the standard virtues. It occupies a somewhat dis tressing position midway between them and the rabble of minor vices. With an adjective before it in praise or blame, it can be made to serve as either, but the position is ever a false one.

It ought originally to have been elected boldly to the higher place, and much doubtfulness of mind would have been spared us, while a clearer line might have been drawn between connivance at a mistake and unvarnished falsehood. Perhaps reticence has never had its due recog nition, because in many instances it is a mere habit, with all a habit's power of growing and increasing until it is nature. Samuel Crozier was by nature a reticent man ; with Tom Valliant FORTUNE SMLLES. the quality was a habit acquired from association with one whom he admired and respected as he admired and respected no other human being upon earth. They both felt this dull embarrassment, which was hardly visible, but existed nevertheless at the mere mention of Goldheath. The feeling was less intense, perhaps, with Crozier than with Valliant, because the sailor possessed a greater power of self-control, and there is no doubt that the exercise of this power over any particular emotion or sense is liable in time to deprive that sense of existence ; but his observation was keener, and Valliant's least glance or movement was rarely lost.

Thus they had gone on for years, without ever approaching nearer to an explanation, and now it was too late. The habit had grown too strong, the silence too sacred. But, despite what may be said about frankness and plain-speaking, I maintain that they were better thus. It was one of those instances where the explanation had better never be given, for is not a friendship with but one flaw in it superior to one that is broken up ? Had either of them spoken with a view of dispelling the cloud that rose at times, things never would have been the 7 O same again. Of most things they talked freely enough, and Valliant was frequently confidential respecting his own affairs; but Goldheath and the doings there never came under discussion. When they left its broad, hospitable door the subject was by tacit understanding shelved.

Men have this way of doing things more frequently than women. Some there are who go through life without ever discussing an unsettled point even with father, brother, or dearest friend, and the question is never answered with earthly lips, never seen with earthly understanding. Crozier never thanked Valliant effusively for procuring him directly or indirectly an invitation to Goldheath at a time when acceptance was permitted by his engage ments, and Tom expected no such thanks. It would have been natural when travelling together from or to Goldheath to speak of past or anticipated pleasures there, but no such words fell from either of them. There were plenty of other subjects possessing mutual interest, and on FORTUNE SMILES. these they conversed with that peculiar tension of which I have spoken until their minds were fully occupied by other thoughts, and Goldheath was laid aside or forgotten.

As Valliant rose to go when Mrs. Sanders had with miraculous rapidity cleared away the breakfast things, a few words were spoken with reference to Mrs. Gibb's invitation, which they arranged to accept separately, while Tom wrote to Mrs. Valliant, intimating that they would take advantage of her hospitality expressed in a letter received by him. " Of course we will go to Goldheath to dine and sleep ? " said Valliant, interrogatively, as he drew on his gloves carefully. Crozier was standing before the fire smoking a wooden pipe, while his hands were thrust into his pockets. " Yes," he said briefly. " Is it necessary for me to write, or will you accept for both ? " " I will write — that will be enough." Valliant moved slowly across the room towards the door. Crozier continued smoking and staring into the fire.

" G' morning, Sam," said the medical student. Crozier turned and looked over his shoulder, but Valliant was already out of the room, and the door was slowly swinging to on its ancient and noiseless hinges. " Good morning," he called out Then he walked to the window and stood looking out. Valliant crossed Lime Court with out glancing back, and passed through the narrow doorway leading westward towards the Strand. " I thought," muttered the singer, without taking the pipe from his lips, " in fact I knew that there was something from . . . Goldheath as soon as he came in ! "

Chapter II

A SHADOW FORECAST. QYRA had in no way exaggerated matters when she told Crozier, in her abrupt, neat manner, that the world was pleased to consider that his influence over Tom Valliant was not exactly beneficial. But she had put rather a different emphasis upon the words, and so altered the meaning into a decided expression of condemnation. It was not considered in Syra's world a very disgraceful proceeding to go to the bad. So many had done it, and having reached that mystic bourne appeared sufficiently well-to-do and quite happy, that there was almost a sense of merit in it. Vice most certainly has a subtle fascination for women and very young men. All Saint Antony's students admired, in a way, the vol. II. 17 out-at-elbows scamps who frequented Myra's whenever they possessed the price of a beverage ; and therefore, when it had been said that Tom Aralliant was going to the " dogs," and that Sam Crozier was in no way attempting to stop his career, there was no virtuous ring of horror in the remark.

" Sam — dear old Sam," was different from other men. He could do things which other men could not do — associate with questionable characters without any one thinking the worse of him — frequent questionable places without being noticed there. Outward influence never moved him. But Valliant was different. Unconsciously prominent, he did not possess the happy faculty of passing anywhere unnoticed. His escapades were talked of, his name freely passed from lip to lip, while no one took the trouble to inquire whether Crozier had been there or not. When Tom Valliant first came to Saint Antony's it was distinctly and openly under the wing of Samuel Crozier, who was known to many of the students, notably to Wilson Leonard and other older men, who were studying a special subject without attending every lecture.

Crozier and Valliant had been seen together at all times and in all places, with the usual result of associat ing their names together in men's minds. Where Crozier was, Valliant might be expected to come, and vice versd. But this had not lasted long before the singer deliberately adopted another course. He saw that Valliant's daily existence was in many details a very different life from that of a professional singer. The hours of sleeping and waking were for the student different from his own. While his own days were leisurely if not exactly idle, Tom's were busy, and the night was required for rest. How ever he looked at it, from whatever side he asked the question in his own mind, Crozier recognized the fact that too close a friendship with himself was not conducive to the ultimate benefit of the young fellow tacitly considered to be under his protection.

He therefore drew back imperceptibly, accepted engagements to sing in provincial towns, and eschewed the society of Saint Antony's men. In a word, he withdrew his influence, from a modest assumption that it was likely to do more harm than good. But the old association of the two names held good, and casual observers saw no difference. About this time a great change came over Tom Valliant, who was now in his second term. He suddenly became a leader instead of being led ; and moreover, he who had been rather quiet and thoughtful, was the first among the noisier and gayer of Saint Antony's students. Crozier noticed this, and concluded that it was the natural result of association with men of lighter stamp and a more congenial age than him self. But among these new companions there were some whom the singer did not like — such men as Walter Varden — and when it was too late he endeavoured to regain his influence over Valliant.

However, as previously stated, Valliant had in the meantime changed, and the attempt failed signally. Thus Samuel Crozier found himself in the painful position of being morally responsible in the eyes of the world for the misdoings of a man over whom he could not attempt to exercise influence without incurring the risk of losing G G his friendship. However, the singer did not attach much importance to the world's opinion, and being himself content that Valliant was not going to the bad, and never would, he merely watched matters from a distance, without inter fering or thrusting himself forward in any way, when he had once discovered that his influence was powerless. He saw and knew the better side of his friend's life, while to Syra the worst only was presented, and it was therefore only natural that she should treat the matter more seriously and upbraid the patient singer for his apparent indifference, which she did freely and sincerely whenever she had the opportunity.

Indeed this was the only subject which was discussed by them with gravity. Syra's exhortations did not, however, lead him to deviate from the course he had laid out for himself, much as he respected her judgment and appreciated her sincerity. These two may at times have failed to under stand each other, but there was on the other hand a singular lack of Both recognized the presence in the other of some few thoughts and a stray motive or two which were hidden from all ; and these, both in turn re spected. Neither attempted to fathom the other ; there was too much mutual respect for that, absurd as it may seem to you, madam, to apply such a word to a barmaid. Thus Crozier never quite understood Syra's interest in Tom Valliant ; that it was sincere he never doubted, and that it was without afterthought he was convinced.

Beyond that he knew nothing. The girl's words were not entirely lost upon him when she told him that his own name was coupled with Valliant's in a manner likely to come to the ears of his family, with the usual kindly additions of such imaginations as it might touch in passing from mouth to mouth. He had told Elma that his influence over Tom was for no good, but she had chosen to disbelieve him. If, now, the same opinion came to her from another quarter she might be shaken in her disbelief, and this scepticism had been very pleasant to the singer. One evening, a few days after Syra had spoken, Crozier conceived the idea that he had neglected Tom Valliant of late. That strange mutual em barrassment which arose whenever the topic uppermost in both their minds was broached, had not of late decreased, and this perhaps led to a slight mutual avoidance.

In fact, the friends were drifting away from each other, as men do when a woman's shadow comes between. There was nothing definite, nothing tangible beyond that vague embarrassment, and instead of lessen ing their mutual affection it added to it. It was not indifference that caused them to drift apart, but increased affection and the shadowy forecast of an unavoidable sorrow. With these indefinite thoughts struggling for o oo o mastery in a mind which would not allow itself to think, Samuel Crozier pushed his way through the crowd that surrounded the stage-door of a great concert-hall, and bent his steps towards Myra's. The evening had been a brilliant one, and his clear steady voice had as usual proved true to his desire, and quite indefatigable. This was no mean point in his singing, that his mellow voice was utterly reliable.

He never seemed to take a note that caused him the least exertion, and he never made a mistake. The rich harmony vibrated from his lips over the heads of the audience with a wonderful fluency and ease, while to him it was a pleasure in which no tricks of art could be detected. As a rule he went straight home when his work was done, or at the most called in at a club. Of late he rarely weut to Myra's, where his absence was scarcely commented upon. Success ful men were in the habit of dropping their acquaintance with the little meeting-place, which was, as Tom Valliant once remarked, essentially a depot for " returned-empties " ; and it was only natural that Sam Crozier should follow the universal custom. To-night he was going to Myra's, and he knew that Syra's words were drawing him thither.

Tom would be there, and into Tom's life he was determined to force himself again. A few yards from the door he met Walter Varden, who was hurrying in the opposite direction. The medical student stopped short when he saw the singer, and recognized him in the yellow light of an open shop-window. " Hallo, Crozier ! " he said, rather breathlessly. " Going to Myra's ? They want you there. Hell of a row going on ! A couple of German fellows have found their way into the inner bar somehow. The men did not like it, of course, and when they began making up to Syra things began to look black. Then one of them said something to the other about her in German, and Valliant flared up. He understood it, it appears, but nobody else did. I think there is going to be a scrimmage." Crozier moved away a step or two.

" So," he said, in a withering undertone, " you have discovered a convenient engagement else where ! " He walked rapidly on, and only partially heard Varden, who was left explaining to the lamp-post that he " er . . . er had to meet a fella." As the singer passed through the outer bar, Myra looked into his face with a ludicrous mixture of anxiety and bewilderment written upon her round features. " Oh, Mr. Crozier," she exclaimed, asthmatic ally, " I don't know what they're doing inside at all. I'm afraid they're quarrelling!" Through the folds of the curtain came, how ever, only the sound of one voice — the light tones of Tom Valliant, w*ith an uncomfortably strained ring in its lower pitch. " I'll count six," he was saying, " and at the word six out you go ! ... One . . . two . . ." And Crozier drew back the curtain.

He took in the whole situation at a glance. The two Germans were standing with their backs towards him at the top of the two steps, while Tom Valliant stood before them pointing towards the curtain. Hi~s face was not only colourless — it was livid, and there w*as in his dark eyes a steady, cruel glitter. " Three ..." he uttered harshly, as Crozier passed into the inner room, allowing the curtains to fall together behind him. Both the foreigners were bigger men than Valliant, and undoubtedly more powerful. They were hesitating painfully before that bloodless face. It was braver to be a coward then ; and to their credit it must be recorded that they did not fear the man so much as the possible con sequences to himself of this wild rage. That was the cause of their hesitation whether to go or not.

Crozier had no time to judge, no moment in which to consider whether the foreigners were to blame for an ungentlemanly act which war ranted Valliant's indignation, or whether they had merely trespassed against the customs of a strange country through ignorance or heedless ness, just as we Englishmen trespass against the customs of every land wherein we travel. Without a moment's hesitation he placed him self between Valliant and the intruders, an action which no other man would have dared just then. " Out of this ! " he said, in a dull, hard tone. " Out of this at once ! " Valliant was grasping the counter with one slim hand, the other was pressed to his side as if to quell a sudden pain. He stepped forward, and stood side by side with his friend, but said no word — made no attempt to interfere.