The Fantoccini Man; or, Foundling Earl

Front matter

Price ONE SHIIXING. LONDON: ROPER and DROWIEY IUudcmeHill,1.C. ROPER & DROWLEY'S NEW NOVELS. THE ALBINO. A Personal Narrative. By Hartley Tamlyn, Author of " William Gordon's Ward," &c, &c. Cloth gilt, price 6s. " Many will be astonished at what they read ; and other Albinos will naturally be very much interested. It will enlist the reader's sympathy." — United Service Gazette. "A strange story, and well told." — Publishers' Circular. ' ' Tale of love and mystery. " — Public Opinion, NOT FOR THE NIGHT TIME By Theo. Gift, Author of " Pretty Miss Bellew," &c, ,. Cloth gilt, price 2s. 6d. " One of the most powerful works of fiction in its own line that we have late encountered ; almost every word in her sentences tell. . . . consummate skill. . . Stories bear re-reading . . . dramatic element very great in quality. . . .

This is high praise, but it is literally true. Those readers who know able writing when they encounter it, will, on coming to the end of ' Not for the Night Time,' find they are possessed of an achievement in fiction which they will care to remember and preserve." — Tablet. "The story must be read to convey an adequate conception of the art wi'h which the curtains of horror are drawn closer and closer. " — Observer. THE DANGEROUS MAN: A Sensational Romance. By A. J. Weyman, Author of "The Scotsman Abroad," &c., &c. New Edition, in Picture Wrapper, sewn, price is. ' Will please most people. Well worth a shilling." — The People. ' ' A powerful story, full of strange and exciting incident, remarkably well told. " Newcastle Daily Chronicle. " There is no want of stirring action and dramatic incident." — Scottish People.

"A shilling dreadful of considerable power." — Weekly Times and Echo. "Just the book for a long railway journey, or a holiday, the plot being well worked up, and the reader's interest enchained from first to last." — Montrost Standard. CRAYTHORNE: A Waif. By W. S. Tratman. Cloth gilt, price 5s. " The reader would be content to follow his guide for the sake of a fair development of the characters to whom he has been introduced. " — Athenæum. ' ' He has a very fair idea born of the construction and development of the plot and he evolution of distinct types of character." — Scottish Leader. " Mr. Tratman has worked out both plot and character most successfully. " — Bookseller. "The book is clever occasionally, and the plot more or less good." — Woman. " It will doubtless please the class of readers for whom it is intended."

Chapter I. How Mat Brindle Became John Caldecote's Servant

" Is that a knock, Mat ? " The speaker was a man of short stature verging on fifty years. He had no cause however to grumble, for nature had given him a chest like a lion's ; and if his form was slightly bent he showed no signs of premature decay. His was a thoughtful face with dark grey eyes, deeply set, which gave him a rather morose appearance : a long unkempt beard tended to augment this; although, they who knew him well, said, a kindlier man never breathed. His features were massive, yet, withal, perfectly regular and well-proportioned. Such a man was John Caldecote. As a young man, he had shown marked ability for sculpture ; indeed, he was looked upon as a rising man, who had all the genius necessary for success in Art, whilst endowed with manners likely to render him a favourite in society.

Then, too, he was rich, enormously rich, one of those lucky individuals marked out from their fellows, a man who all agreed would certainly do great things. Yet no ! John Caldecote trifled with his abilities, worse, dissipated his patrimony ; and, one day, upon troubling himself, or rather when forced by others to make a com putation of his worldly goods, he discovered that all which remained to him was the crumbling walls of the Old Hall, where his ancestors had lived for centuries, now rendered thoroughly untenantable by the destroying hand of time. He had wasted his own, and now was surprised that those whom he had confided in, refused to allow him the same liberty with theirs. Disgusted with the world, he determined to live a hermit's existence in Norfolk, among the ruins of his old home; there to devote himself assiduously to study, and never to let a woman cross the threshold of his refuge.

This antipathy was so deeply radicated that he laid all his troubles at the door of womankind, instead of at his own ; and he who had once been so great an admirer of the fair sex was now its most bitter enemy. To such an extent did he carry his mania that he would not have the most hideous old hag the village could produce to look after his domestic requirements, but engaged the services of a half-witted lad, named Mat Brindle, who had resided with his grandmother until John Caldecote's arrival. The old lady had just died, and what was to become of Mat was a general topic in the village. The only one who seemed the least concerned was Mat himself, a lean, gawky lad, with a smile always playing about his mouth. The lad was not in the least disturbed about his future ; what mattered it to him ! he was a thorough optimist, and only laughed at the grave faces of the villagers, declaring all would come right.

These good folk would describe Mat to any person passing through the village who might chance to notice the awkward figure of the eccentric yokel, as a good youth, perfectly harmless, particularly fond of CALDECOTE'S SERVANT. 9 children, winding up with — he is sensible-crazy, you know, Sir, always playing the fiddle or else twirling his fingers into all manner of shapes ; then he will imitate the barking of a dog, or, perhaps, the lowing of a cow ; but if he is peculiar, the lad has a good heart, and is a rare comfort to his old grandmother. "Ah! I see," the stranger would reply. "An anomaly, eh?" " Begging your pardon, sir ; no, the lad is a good Christian, like yourself, I hope, who never robbed any man : no, sir, he is no nomaly, but just sensible-crazy, as I said at first." The stranger would then smile at the thought of his own mental superiority ; and if he were in a good temper, might request his informant to drink his health at the "Scrapping Chicken" — for there is nothing a man likes so much as to prove himself of greater culture than his fellow.

Mat was proclaimed, with one accord, stark, staring mad ; indeed, a strait-waistcoat was alluded to ; one or two of the more interested ones called to see the lad, informing him, that ere long he would be forced to quit the old cottage so long tenanted by his grandmother, and make his own way in the world. What were his plans ? Yes, friends, family friends, are ever ready to inform us of our imperfections; but, alas, it is seldom they can suggest a cure! The fool looked at them complacently, grinned amiably, then suggested there were three whole weeks yet before him ; he would wait and see ; he had lived happily up to the present, doubtless his future would be as felicitous. Strange as it may appear, the very day when Mat found himself homeless, John Caldecote arrived in the village. He wanted a man to live at the old Hall with him, one who could cook and make himself generally useful ; but the old place had been vacant so long — rumour too had done its work — strange sights had been seen in proximity to the Hall ; groans (most probably the wind soughing through the trees) were of nightly occurrence.

Woe to the traveller who sought shelter within its crumbling walls ! it were better for him had he tramped the other two miles to the village. There was but one fearless enough to brave ghosts and goblins, and that was Mat Brindle. Many a time had he scraped away on his fiddle among the old ruins ; as for ghouls he had never seen one : he had been there at all hours too. Once a goat was grazing upon the hill, and he saw a man rushing toward the village in great trepidation ; then some few days afterward he heard tell of how a man was sleeping within the precincts of the Old Hall, when he was awakened by the most plaintive sighing, now loud, and vociferous, then withering, and shrill, and finally, as the man was leaving the place, a dreadful looking creature with a long beard pursued him until he was within sight of the village; then in the morning he discovered his hair was blanched from fright.

How the fool laughed at his more gifted brethren's sus ceptibilities ! to think that those who looked upon him as a daft-laddie, should mistake the sound of his violin for a voice from the spirit-world. For upon the stranger telling his tale many declared that awful sounds were always emanating from the old place. Indeed, after dark, it was advisable to give it a wide berth ; but, then, the credence they attached to that mythical creature pursuing the wanderer down the slope ! And with what avidity they drank in the description of this nocturnal disturber of peaceful travellers. Mat's eyes opened wider, his large mouth appeared one huge smile. Fancy mistaking poor old Nanny for a super natural being ! then saying, too, she ran after the fellow, CALDECOTE 'S SERVANT, n when she was securely tethered !

Why ! after all, he must be the wise man, and the other people, fools ! Look how hard they work; see with what might-and-main they grumble; he neither grumbled, nor worked; surely, he was wise after all, and they the foolish ones ! Mat's opinion of his fellows went down considerably, while he rose proportionately in his own estimation. The villagers remarked how daft Mat was becoming — Mat took his fiddle and frightened any individual he might perceive wending his way toward the Hall after night-fall. It was in the midst of these exciting scenes that John Caldecote found himself. What was he to do if nobody would accompany him ? The villagers seemed respectful enough, but there was a something he could not quite make out ; they were surely not laughing at him ! Oh, no, it was at this fellow coming along ; now walking on this side of the road, then on the other; finally crossing over to where he was standing, surrounded by a small company of the village-folk.

" Eh, Mat ! " shouted out a burly blacksmith named Burns, " This gentleman wants a body to live with him up at the Hall, yonder ; what do you say to it, my lad ? " Caldecote looked smilingly at his proposed retainer, then laughed as he compared him with those whom his ancestors had kept at the place — tall, strapping fellows, who would have felt insulted had the present applicant been included among their number — nay, would have quitted the place ere eat their meals with such a ragamuffin. These musings put Caldecote in a good humour; he liked the contrast; and if the lad were a decent specimen of his fraternity, and not too far gone, why he would not mind engaging him provided he could cook decently. Then addressing Mat, " What do you say to taking up your quarters with me at the Hall, and being handy-man ?

" Mat smiled and was quite inebriated at the very idea; there was no place where he would rather live than among those crumbling walls ; to be out of the way of everybody, especially of the younger portion of the community who made such fun of his awkward gait, and, indeed, took a delight in putting his little idiosyncrasies before him in not the most flattering light. It was nothing unusual to hear a stone, or a stick whiz by his ear ; formerly he would stop in his walk to endeavour to detect the culprit ; but ex perience had taught him that it was better to treat such actions with the contempt they merited. Mat was delighted, would do anything for his new mas ter : so up the hill they marched together, Mat grinning to his heart's content, his fiddle in one hand, the bow in the other. Caldecote was musing deeply.

He had visited the place once before in company with his late father." It was falling to pieces, he remembered, but the upper end was habitable. Ah ! he did not think it was so dilapidated as this ! No ; it was certainly not improved by nearly thirty years lying untenanted ! The north side was intact yet, those massive oak-doors were without a flaw in them. Then look at the grand old-fashioned fireplace ! all chimney it appeared. How the logs would blaze, aye ! and the kettle hum as merry a tune as ever a light-hearted student had listened to. The place was bosky enough ; there was wood to last him a cen tury ; and the two rooms overhead would make capital sleeping apartments for himself and his man. Here he would be out of the way of the world, far dis tant from his friends, — Why had he made them ?

He could see now, to kill time. Oh ! that he had been as deep as they ; but like Mat, he was an optimist ; so persuaded him- B RIND LE BECOMES CALDECOTE'S SERVANT. 13 self it all happened for the best. Who could tell but that his coming here would not be the best move he ever made in his life ? Why he felt light-hearted already ! The very sight of that wide hearth cheered him, and made him long for the winter months, when he could pile it with fuel and smoke his pipe without restraint. The Old Hall was a long, rambling building, situated on an eminence overlooking the village below ; then, as you walked down the slope into a valley, the village disappeared, and you again saw it upon emerging. The house, as a whole, was in a most tumble-down condition. The front door was off its hinges, menacing any man with sudden death, should it fall upon him.

The rooms inside were spacious, and lofty, tenanted by bats and vermin ; but the three rooms toward the north end were well preserved ; they had been inhabited by an old couple in the capacity of caretakers until a few years back, when the owner of the Hall had come to the conclusion that the old walls might as well take care of themselves ; so these functionaries were dispensed with. Caldecote examined the entire building ; he walked through the hall which had once been the pride of his race, but which was now nearly debased to their own level, dust. All the furniture had been long ago removed ; but here and there were huge old cupboards sunk deeply into the wall ; everything else was gone. At the back there was a kind of courtyard, containing stables, and other appur tenances ; creeping plants were growing over the doors, or rather in many cases, entrances, for upon pushing nature's covering aside, in the majority of cases, no further exertion was required.

Perchance there were two or three wooden bars jutting across ; but a smart blow from a stout stick would shatter them. The yard itself was one tangled mass of vegetation, principally nettles and dock, the poison and antidote side by side. At last Mat, who was perpetually throwing his hands in all directions, as if trying to imitate the flight of a bird, then kicking his legs about as though to prove that he pos sessed such appendages, took a summersault into a bed of nettles. He neither roared, nor wept, as Caldecote had expected he would, but sat himself quietly down upon a great stone, the ethereal smile still playing around his mouth, and applied to his hands and face the largest dock-leaves he could find. His master's opinion of him augmented considerably. If Caldecote disliked any man it was the eye piper; he who washes his face with copious outpourings upon the least provocation.

In his category such a man was either a drunkard or an idiot. He could scarce restrain a smile as he exclaimed, " Are you stung, my man ? " Mat made no answer at first, but continued doctoring himself with the antidote, smiling away ; then, when a sharp twitch caused him to make a violent contortion, he would apply the dock-leaf with greater energy. It was a burlesque ; and Caldecote was enjoying it immensely, when Mat replied, " Can't you see I am?" This was too much ; Caldecote burst out laughing : — the whole affair was so grotesque, the retort not in the least rude, but said in such a manner as to imply great surprise on the fool's part that his master could think it possible for a man to tumble into a bed of nettles and not be stung! "Cannot you think of some other remedy ? " queried Caldecote at last.

" No ; what should you do if you were I ? " " I don't know." " Perhaps you might follow Mr. Burns' example, when he was stung." " What did he do ? " CALDECOTE S SERVANT. 15 " Scratched himself and swore." " Perhaps I might ; come, gather a good handful of dock, we are going to return to the village ; it is impossible to take up one's quarters here until the place be seen to a bit. Where do you live ; and what are you going to do mean while ? " Mat plucked some of the antidote, stuffed it carefully into his trouser-pockets ; then suddenly changing his mind, he threw it all out again, exclaiming, " You see, Mister, this is the last day I shall be allowed to live in granny's cottage, at least Master Powley says he shall turn all the sticks he finds there into the king's highway ; and if he find my un gainly person within he will treat me as if I were a deal table or a chest of drawers ; then he added — ' there is no fear of the fall cracking you, as you are it already; but if the old woman had any crockery, you had better remove it before I pay you a visit.' " ' Thank you, Master Powley,' said I, ' you may find a few pieces, but you are welcome to them.' " Now you see it is useless my returning to the village ; so if it be agreeable to you I will spend the night here."

A happy thought struck Caldecote ; why not rent the cottage of Powley for a few days until his own chattels arrived ? Mat was ordered to re-collect his dock and con duct his master to his late landlord's. This he did with avidity. The facetious Mr. Powley was the great man of the village ; he had in bygone days been the merry landlord of the " Scrapping Chicken " which he farmed in the double capacity of publican, and veterinary surgeon ; — Dame For tune had smiled upon him. Powley retired from the beer trade and followed only his professional calling ; sometimes he would drop into the inn, which by-the-bye was his own property, to have a glass of half-and-half. Upon such an occasion the whole assembly would rise and inquire with one voice after the health of Doctor Powley. Yes ! Powley had made his mark ; he was the oracle of the village.

Indeed, he was entitled to respect, for he filled the most important office of vicar's churchwarden. Ah ! it was a proud day when the Reverend Mr. Blinkers called at his house and begged, yes, begged, that Doctor Powley would assist him in his good work. Powley used not to be a very regular attendant at church ; it is needless to say he may be seen there now at every service, in the churchwarden's pew with his lady and the little Powleys ; while his white waist coat is the admiration of all the village-dandies. This gentleman was leaning upon his garden-gate; a long clay pipe was in his mouth, supported by his left hand, with his right he was vigorously wiping the perspiration from his brow ; and Caldecote thought (it must have been a mistake) he heard the following sentence, " Darn them dogs, they will creep through the palings, d 'em ! and spoil my flowers."

" Mr. Powley, I think I have the pleasure of addressing," said Caldecote, politely. " Yes, young man, that's me ; better known as Mr. Doctor Powley ; what do you want ? " " I want to engage a house of yours.'' Powley eyed his man attentively ; " Looks a swell ! " he thought " Don't dress like one, though ! Perhaps he wants the Priory. What is that crazy fellow doing with him ? Civility is a very decent article to trade with ; I think I will give him a dose of it." " Oh ! I see, Sir ; you want the Priory ! A nice house, Sir ! lovely garden, spacious rooms, with a lovely verdant piece of green in the front ; looks charmin' by moonlight, CALDECOTES SERVANT. 17 Sir. I don't know if you be a poet come down here for and quietude ? " " No ; I want to hire this man's cottage for a week or two." "Oh ! that's it, young man; why didn't you say so at first.

What do you want it for ? " "For about two or three weeks, until I can make the Old Hall wind and water proof. My name is Caldecote ; it is my intention to live there." " Pray say nothing about rent, Mr. Caldecote ! Was not your father a friend of mine ? Live at the cottage as long as you like, sir. Gentlemen like you and me lend each other their property. lam proud to have the honour, Sir. Just wait a minute, and I will come with you. We must toss this fellow's goods out, then you can settle down comfortably." " Thank you ; he is living with me for the present. I shall only want the cottage for a very short period. A thousand thanks, Mr, Powley. Good day ! " " Good afternoon, Sir, I trust you will be comfortable ; please remember Mrs. Powley will be anxiously waiting until you give her a call."

Then to himself, — " To think of that rich man dwelling in a humble cottage ! It was always my intention to make the acquaintance of gentlefolk ; here is a splendid oppor tunity ! Did not my old father pat me on the head and say, 'Be a gentleman, Sammy, my boy; keep your. eyes open and your mouth shut. Little did the old boy dream what a great gentleman I was to become, that I should entertain the hall gents ; my ! this is a proud day for Sam Powley." The old fellow forgot the dogs he had anathematized so severely, and marched erectly into his house instructing his wife to dress Dolly in her best frock all next week, as he expected an important visitor. She, too, might be careful not to go to the door with her hands covered with flour ; he did not want his dignity compromised ! Caldecote engaged some of the villagers to clean the Old Hall, and mend the glass.

The front door was again placed upon hinges, whilst a huge wood partition was erected which completely shut off that part of the house he intended dwelling in, from the other portion. All was now ready to receive the owner. At this juncture, a van of furniture arrived ; how the villagers stared as they helped to unpack ; they had never seen so many books in all their lives. There were statues of men, and of women, huge blocks of marble, and so many wonderful things, that all declared Caldecote was a wizard ; while Mat looked on wondering the while, and thinking to himself what a marvel lous master he was to serve ; would not the urchins who had once despised him now court his society ; but, no, he would hold himself aloof, and be a great magician too. Mat, with his patron's help, soon made the place ship shape.

The statues were placed here and there ; pictures were hung upon the walls, Mat's furniture was taken from the cottage and deposited in his room ; and, soon, the place looked as cheerful as heart could wish. Mr. Powley had at first been a daily visitor ; but had suddenly absented himself to Caldecote's no small delight. He did not know the young man was ruined ; that changed matters considerably; he would not intrude again. Yet, there was one more pleased than Caldecote, it was Dolly, who was now ordered to walk about in her every-day attire, and by no means to wander near the Old Hall. Three years are passed since the arrival of Caldecote caused such excitement. It is winter-time. The logs are CALDECOTE S SERVANT. 19 blazing merrily in the open grate, flashing out such streams of flame as only a wood-fire can.

An oil lamp suspended from the ceiling sheds a luminous light everywhere, while Caldecote himself is just emptying the ashes from his pipe into the grate — he starts ; surely that was a knock ; there could be no mistake this time. Then rousing himself, he exclaims. " Put that fiddle down, Mat, my lad, go see if there be any one at the door. I am certain I heard a knock ; make haste ! I hear footsteps going away again. Mat opens the door and looks around, but can see nothing. Suddenly his foot strikes against something ; what can it be ? — a large basket — he brings it inside, locks the door, then announces the article to his master, who tells him to put it down there — indicating a place beside him, until he shall have time to look at it. Caldecote refilled his pipe ; he was in a thoughtful mood ; and as he gazed into the fire he pictured to himself inci dents which were past and gone.

Yes ! there she was walking with another ; the same old smile, the very gestures ; then the scene would change ; leaving in their stead — yes, surely Hector, poor old faithful Hector ! a fine specimen of the canine breed was he ; what a fellow he used to be for a pheasant ! neither would he consider a water-rat beneath his dignity : Ah ! there he goes crumbling away ! . . . " Hold that noise, will you, Mat ? your bedroom is the proper place when thefeu sacre comes over you." Mat was seated at the table in the middle of the room, reading intently ; for the village schoolmaster had knocked into his dull wits that amount of education which the law commands, — he was spelling out German history when he heard his master's question, and responded :— "Is there a king of England ? " " No — a woman rules — a queen !"

" Ah, she will never be such a great king as was Augustus of Poland." "Oh ! was he a benefactor to his country? ran some big Austrian through, I suppose ? " " No — he, so the book says, begat three hundred and fifty children whom he educated as soldiers at his own expense — oh, no, I have turned over two pages at once." Here another cry was heard ; this time quite audibly. " Are you scratching anything under the table, Mat ? " "No; but just look how that basket is shaking! I do believe there is something alive inside it ! " " Oh, Johnson at the farm did say something about sending me a sucking-pig to go in part-payment of that little piece of land which he hires of me ; the least he might have done, I think, was to send the animal dressed ; and it would not have been amiss, had he just waited a moment.

But there! I have become quite like a bear; though I did not think it was such a recognized fact ; still, if the fellow likes to follow my example, why I suppose I must own him as a brother, and hug him next time we chance to meet. Have you ever stuck a pig, Mat ? " " No, not since I w-as quite little and used to run pins into flies on granny's window-sill ; my great ambition was to be a butcher, so I practised upon all the insects I could find, decapitated flies by the million ; and as for black beetles, they were a rarity in the neighbourhood. Well, one day something prompted me to ply my calling upon Tom Wilson's gander. I chased the bird until at last success crowned my labour, and I had the extreme satis faction of cutting off its head upon a large stone with a knife I had in my pocket.