Ruling the planets; a novel

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I

I HAVE taken tliree days to consider the question, and have decided not only to write, but to pubhsh my statement of the whole matter.

Wait ! ” said my solicitor. “ In these days of perpetual actions for hbel, wait tiU aU those about whom you have anything to say are dead ; then only can you be saf e.’^ In that case ah those interested, or likely to benefit by my work, would also be dead. I have thought it over ; I wiU certainly take the risk, and wuite, not only to justify myself, but also my friends j and further, to give any one who doubts the accuracy of my statements the power of questioning living men as to my truth.

A few years ago my very commonplace life was interrupted by an accident so shght that it seemed scarcely worthy of a second thought.

I was in a first-class railway carriage on my way back to town to begin my holiday when a feUow-passenger looked up from the newspaper he had been reading, and as he prepared to leave the carriage at the station we were just entering, said:

“ I have been looking at you, sir, and hope it^s no hberty to say that Pm glad to see you better, sir.^^

Thank you,” said I, rather wondering who was speaking, and how he could be interested in my recovery from an illness that had been too ordinary to attract attention except from my own home circle.

“ Yes, indeed, sir j I did hear that there was little or no chance

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of your being in these parts for a good spell. Report, report j some people have a pleasure in spreading ill news — cravens ever are croaking. Said I, when I heard it : ‘ Human nature’s weak. I don’t say as Mr. Herbert won’t be grieved at the old man’s death, but it’ll put new life in him to hear as the property is his at last ! ’ I’m a studier of human nature, I am. I guess shrewdly, I do. Pretty right this time, and glad I am, too. Hope you’U live long to enjoy it, sir.”

The train had stopped, and my friend was stepping out of the carriage while he spoke.

It seems to me, sir,” I began, but the guard, who had been impatiently waiting the conclusion of the voluble speech to close the door and signal the train ready,” prevented my adding, “ you are mistaken ” j and I could but raise my hat in acknowledgment of the profound respect with which my late companion stood bare-headed as we passed him.

“ Strange old gentleman ! ” said I to another passenger who had watched and listened with some interest, though, tiU I was spoken to, he had been leaning back in his comer reading the paper.

“Yes. Mr. Tomkins, a well-known man in these parts — builder and iron-monger.”

“ Mistook me for some one else, it seems j early yet for a glass too much.”

“ He’s sober enough. A shrewd man, too j one of those who get into everything. You are a stranger in this part of the country perhaps ? ”

“Yes and no. I pass it often enough, for my father’s vicarage is about forty miles farther down the hne, but I have never stopped at any of these small places. Practically, the neighborhood of my old home .(beyond a short driving radius) is less famihar to me than a good part of the Continent.”

“ A very common experience ; unvisited because too near. Mr. Tomkins, however, is pretty well known. He has been Mayor of Saltbury three or four times ; puts himself forward at elections ; is always on the local board ; leads the opposition j keeps the hospital people on the move. In fact, one may say he is the grain of yeast which saves the sleepy community from becoming absolutely stagnant.”

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^^One of the troublesome necessities of modem life — the prosaic pioneer of progress.”

I thought this phrase sounded rather weU, but it gained no reply j my companion was silent. He did not resume his paper, but leaned back as if very weary, and seemed looking at me without the least sign of forming any opinion about me. He was in a reverie, and stared at me as he would at the tassel of the blind or anything else that happened to be in the line of sight.

W e passed several stations without stopping. I resumed my paper, and began to get drowsy from the monotonous motion of the wheels. Suddenly I felt a hand on my arm, and found that my companion had moved to the seat exactly opposite me, and was leaning forward, his face full of excitement and resolution.

I think,” he said, “ I can give you a clue to Mr. Tomkins^s strange mistake.”

I was not particularly interested. “Mistaken identity,” I suggested, lazily.

“Justifiable,” he returned, “remarkable ! If one might say such a thing, I would providential! You may have thought me asleep — ^indeed, no. Never have I had better reason for keeping awake. I have been trying to work out a problem — calculate chances — suggested by you. Now I will lay the case before you j and, as a matter of purely intellectual speculation, you shall help me to a conclusion.”

I looked at the man. It was my turn to examine and form some opinion about him. He seemed to imderstand the doubt that crossed my mind, and, fining his pocket-book, selected a card and handed it to me. I read :

“ Dr. Sinclair. No. 562 Harley Street, Cavendish Square.”

“ I should hke you to understand that, though I feel desperately inclined to invite you to join me m an undertaking, I am no adventurer.”

He spoke quietly. He had a deep voice, a face that would be remembered if once noted, and his manner inspired confidence. I was forced to admit to myself that he was a gentleman, though I felt alarmed at the idea of being invited to joia in an adventure with an absolute stranger.

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“ You think I am asking overmuch in suggesting that you should trust me ; I can assure you that the mere mention of the situation in which I am placed, and in which I beheve you (and you only of aU the world) can serve me, is a far greater risk than any that could come to you by trusting me.”

I confess I was interested, but I said nothing.

You seem to be casting about in your mind for a solution that can be understood by merely reading the daily reports of the pohce courts ,* that I may be aiming at a “ confidence trick,” or card-playing, or some other method of getting money out of you. Nothing is further from my thoughts. It is something infinitely more important, and (returning to my first remark) I must teU you the question I was trying to resolve. It is simply this : How far faces indicate character. Does a very close personal resemblance mean similarity of character ? ” Nothing is more deceitful than appearances,” said I. “ I have long given up trustmg the evidence of my senses.”

“ That is not quite what I mean. I rather intended to question whether a certain type of feature, manner, general appearance, is not brought to maturity by a similarity of thought, pursuit, and character. To speak plainly, you remind me of a very dear friend ; and if my theory is a true one, I could trust my hfe with you, were it a matter requiring such sacrifice.”

In fact, it is a question of trustworthiness,” I said. “ I ought, perhaps, to tell you that, though my father is a country clergyman, I have lived some years in London — am not quite ^ a young man from the country ^ — ^but ”

“ How very difficult it is to put one’s self in another’s place !”

Dr. Sinclair had a pleasant laugh, and his face relaxed its fierce earnestness as he broke into my speech.

I felt reheved ; and instead of continuing on the defensive I simply remarked, I beheve, if I had it in my power to do any one a real service, I would do it, if I could.”

“Just what Herbert would have said ! You have answered my question unawares. I will trust you. I feel a great responsibihty in telling you of things which concern others rather than myself. You will feel with me in this, and respect my confidence — if that should be the only service you find it in your power to render me ? ”

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“ That I can answer for ! I said, giving him my hand to enforce my promise.

I cannot say that I spoke very cordially. I had seen enough of life to be cautious in mixing myself up with other people^s business j but I could not look into Dr. Sinclair’s face and doubt that I was deahng with a man of noble character, sensitive feeling, and cultivated mind.

My name you know,” he said, after a short pause. “ I should like you to tell me (if you will) not only your name, but whether for the next few days you happen to have any pressing engagement, or can give yourself to following my wishes.”

I could see no reason for withholding my name, so I told him I was Stephen, the only son of the Rev. Stephen Maurice, and that I was going to town to have a few days to myself in London, before going abroad for three weeks’ hohday, after which I should resume my place at the desk. ‘‘ In fact,” I said, I am only a clerk in a bank. I am also the organist at St. Catherine’s Church, Chelsea, and take the choir practice to-night, which is the reason of my returning by this particular train.”

Dr. Sinclair was silent, thinking ; we were getting near London — at least the last hour of our journey was begun.

“ I wish your time was quite at your own disposal,” he said at length. ‘ Our friend Mr. Tomkins has given you a name, has recognized you as a gentleman whose presence in a certain place is imperatively necessary, but who cannot by any possibility appear when he is wanted. He is my dearest friend, the eldest son and heir to one of the finest properties in the county. Probably you know him by name, Fanshawe — Herbert Fanshawe of Birchhohne. I have come from there this morning. Till now it has been Mowbray Fanshawe. Yesterday he died. Mr. Tomkins recognized you as the next heir, Herbert. For reasons I cannot now explain, it has occurred to me that you could save him and the family more loss than I can say if (just for a few days — tni after the funeral) you would simply stay in his rooms, and allow those whom it concerns to believe you are — he ! ” '

Dr. Sinclair’s voice trembled slightly as he said the last word, and his face seemed to me paler than it had been.

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“ That is an extreme thing to ask of me,” I replied. To lose my own identity, and take that of some one who is nothing to me, and whom I have never seen in my life ! It is a very pecnliar service to ask of me. I cannot say I see any possibility of undertaking it.”

The proposition was made, however, and once stated, could be discussed. I cannot pretend to repeat the whole of that long talk. Of course I knew the Fanshawes by name as county people, though they were too distant from us ever to have been personal acquaintances. I knew, also, that Dr. Sinclair, estabhshed in practice in Harley Street, must be of sufficient position to make it unlikely he would propose to me anything that would risk his professional reputation. StiU, it was a strange favor to ask.

“ Herbert Fanshawe was one of the best fellows I have ever known,” said Dr. Sinclair at last j a man ever ready to do any one a service. I will not persuade you against your will. Whatever you do must be done freely, and with understanding. Still, consider that you have the fate of a whole family in your keeping, and I am certain that, were the position reversed, yon where Herbert is, and Herbert able to do a son’s duty to your father, he would not hesitate.”

“ I cannot answer ^ yes ’ or ^ no ’ j I must have time,” I said, as we reached the ticket station and the train stopped.

“ That is the one thing that cannot be spared you,” returned the Doctor. “ Come home and lunch with me ! When you have thought it over you will decide.”

I hesitated. The Doctor acted. The old proverb came true in my case. His carriage was at hand. He had decided for me.

H.

Before we had reached Regent Street Dr. Sinclair had changed his mind. A bundle of letters was waiting for him in his brougham. Some he scanned anxiously j then ordered his man to di*ive to the nearest telegraph station, and ex-

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plained to me that before going home he would ask me to come with him to a hotel, where he would meet a friend.

I felt mistrustful. I had rather counted on seeing the Doctor^s home as a justification for my trust in him, or a warning before it was too late. The letters he left when he entered the telegraph office gave some evidence of his standing in his profession. Thanks to the modern fashion of printing the address on the outside of the envelope, I could see they were not merely from patients of good position, but also medical men of name ; one address I knew well, and the writing too, for Sir Morley Slater had pulled my dear mother through a long and comphcated illness. I felt he must remember her, and I determined to call on him (if need be) to give me some idea of the character of the man I was asked to trust so blindly. #

Nearly an hour was spent on our way to the Langham. Dr. Sinclair paid several visits, excusing himself with a pleasant smile each time he left me, and calling my attention to the periodicals hidden in one of the pockets of his brougham.

I could not read, however. The stream of living men and women passing continuously had a new interest for me. I had never before felt the sensation of fear ; now each moment that feeling grew upon me. The wonderful silence of the masses, the egotistic indifference of each to any but his own affairs, the anxious faces, the content, self-satisfied faces — ^what a world it was, what a city ! How easy for any one to be lost or hidden, and no one the wiser !

I had stepped out of the carriage, determined to wrench myself away from infiuences that certainly seemed to me very uncanny, when the Doctor came to my side.

“ What,^^ said he, tired of waitiug 1 I have pretty nearly done now, and shall be quite at your service.^^ He held the door open for me, and I felt constrained to enter. Ten minutes later and we had reached the Langham, where (in a private room) lunch was waiting for us.

Not only lunch, but a young man.

I cannot recall my first impression at seeing him. I was so occupied with the strange effect on Mm of seeiug me. His brown eyes seemed to expand each moment more and more.

He stared, and stared again with a horrible fascination, which drove all pleasure from his face and left it pinched and drawn. He looked positively ill. Dr. Sinclair came forward, satisfaction in his countenance and manner.

‘‘Well, Charley,” he said, not attempting the formahty of an introduction, “ you seem to recognize this gentleman ? ”

“ Recognize him — recognize him,” repeated the young man helplessly. “ By God, I wish I did ! — I wish ^twas true.” Suddenly he turned away and hid his face on his arms, leaning on the end of the sofa.

“ There ! ” said Dr. Sinclair, addressing me. “ I have given both you and myself a positive test, and the result is a seal to the petition I presented. This is Charles Fanshawe, the younger brother. Charley, I have a plan to propose to you later on. Now, as time presses, we wdl get something to eat j after that the regulation of all our actions must have our undivided attention.”

I was more tired than hungry — ^in fact, I was too much worried to have an appetite. Dr. Sinclair, however, did the honors of the table so well that I made a better meal than I should have thought possible, and the calm way in which he settled himself to his knife and fork and selected his wine in a measure forced one to consider the wisdom of using the passing moment for its legitimate purpose.

Looking back, it seems strange how much involuntary information comes to my mind : the respect with which Dr. Sinclair was treated — the well-filled purse from which he paid — the stern, yet kind control he exercised over young Charles Fanshawe, almost forcing him to eat, yet with a look and gesture of sympathy compassionating his evident distress.

We were not long over the table. When the waiters were gone Dr. Sinclair asked his friend if he had “brought the things?”

Charley nodded, and pointed to a chair by the sideboard.

Dr. Sinclair fetched a bag, and from it produced an overcoat and a hat, also a case of photographs. He looked over at me and considered for a moment j then he asked me if I would obhge him by just trying on the coat and hat.

It is not pleasant even to touch other people’s clothes. I

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have a particular objection to it. However, as Dr. Sinclair held the coat for me I easily slipped into it, noticing only that the sleeves were lined with very delicate colored shk, and that it had a faint perfume of refined tobacco. The hat was peculiar, of the fashion that used to be affected by artists, broad, soft felt, with folded crown and arched sides. As I turned to the glass I wondered that I never before had selected that style of hat, it was so becoming. Whilst looking in the glass I saw beside my own face the refiection of a cabinet-sized photograph of myself; not a touched-up portrait, but an exact representation of me, as I was at that moment — with the scar on my cheek which Lewis Randall gave me when we were boys together and had a scrimmage over an empty bottle.

Now,” said Dr. Sinclair, answer this ” (for I begin to be confused) : “ Is this your portrait, or are you the original of the photograph ? ”

It is certainly my portrait — ^when was it taken ? how did you get it? Yet I never bought a hat like this. I am more economic.”

Dr. Sinclair handed me the portrait. I turned it over. It was a German photograph. Herbert Fanshawe, May, 1886,” was written in a fine handwriting on the back.

“ I think,” said Dr. Sinclair, ‘‘ that, at any rate, ]primd facie, I have proved my case. Even you yourself cannot help seeing the extraordinary resemblance between you and Mr. Fanshawe. Now it is for me to explaiu what we want, and why. Perhaps it would be better for Mr. Fanshawe’s own brother to state the case ; and you will see that my own personal interest is not one that you need fear, or that is in any way dishonorable to either me, you, or my friends.” 4 /

‘‘ I don’t know what you’re driving at,” said Charley, as if he resented the Doctor’s freedom, and felt aggrieved at my likeness to his brother being enforced.

“ I don’fl^sually smoke at this hour,” said Dr. Sinclair, producing his cigar-case; “but I shall not take up my work to-day, so we may as well smoke as we talk. You had better try one, Charley ; going without food, slee^ and smoke will only add to your troubles.”

Young Fanshawe was not gracious, but he accepted a cigar,

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and when they were well alight and I had discarded the hat and coat, Dr. Sinclair settled himseK to explain his views.

Where is Mr. Fanshawe V’ 1 asked, when the first consolation of good tobacco had revived my interest and courage.

Mr. Mowbray Fanshawe died last night,^^ replied Dr. Sinclair. Mr. Herbert Fanshawe died yesterday morning. But, as yet, no one (except his brother and myself) is aware of that fact ; and it is to prevent this misfortune from being known for a few days that I have asked you to permit yourseK to be mistaken for him. Just for a few days — ^that is aU. And now I will teU you the reason why. You consent to my doing so, do you not, Charley ? ”

Do as you please,” said Charley, rather sullenly.

“ It is a question of succession to property ; and has to do with a stupid will made two generations ago by a dunderheaded country attorney. Unfortunately, the Birchholme property is not entailed. It has been in the Fanshawe family I can’t say how long, and now would descend to Charley here, in the ordinary succession, if old Mr. Fanshawe (Mowbray Fanshawe’s father) had not made a wiU. As it is, the property was left entire to Mowbray Fanshawe for his life, with remainder to Geoffrey Fanshawe, or if he died before his brother Mowbray, to his son Herbert, who happened to be the only child then bom to Geoffrey. It never seems to have occurred (either to the attorney or to Mr. Fanshawe) that other heirs might arrive, and the alternative is simply, that if Herbert dies childless before Mowbray Fanshawe, the property (that would otherwise be absolutely his) is to be sold, and ^vided into two parts — one half for the benefit of local hospitals, the other half for certain hospitals in London.

As it happens, poor Herbert died just a few hours before his uncle. The consequence is that (through a blunder) either the family wid be left penniless, while strangers get the benefit of the money, or if Charley makes a case Chancery decision he will get (at best) a mere compromise, and have to encounter much expense and anxiety. The Fanshawe family will cease to exist in the county, and Mrs. Fanshawe, with her two daughters, brought up in luxury, with no thought of such a terrible contingency as Herbert’s death, wiU be literally on

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Charley^s hands to support as he can — ^he just struggling in dilettante fashion to amuse himself with a profession.”

Did you tell my mother ? ” asked Charley.

No. I almost told Kate. Now I am thankful that I did not. You see,” turning to me, we just want to delay the date of poor Herbert's death to estabhsh the fact that he succeeded to the property, and so could hand it down to his brother, and of course secure his mother and sisters.”

“Ah ! ” said I, “ that means a forged will.”

“Not at all. A year ago it was thought that old, Mr. Fanshawe was on his death-bed, and Herbert was then on his way to Switzerland mountaineering, and the solicitor (a far-seeing fellow) suggested that it he chose to risk his own hfe, he had better not risk his family’s prospects, so he prepared his will and Herbert signed it, leaving only the dates to fill in. I don’t doubt he has it still j so you see, the only thing to estabhsh is the question of succession, and I feel that it would be a cruel mistake, nay, a deep moral wrong, that you would commit, it you allow fear of the appearance of a dubious action to prevent your securing justice to those who (by a providential accident) are now at your mercy. By simply outhving his uncle the property is his ; and the will is of value rather as the indication of his wishes than as a legal instrument.

“ What do you want me to do ? ” I asked, after thinking the matter over a few minutes.

“ Exist passively in the house where Mr. Fanshawe has been hving and died yesterday. Be seen by his servants, and perhaps one or two friends. I can excuse your going to Mr. Mowbray’s funeral ; they all know of Herbert’s illness, though not of the fatal termination. What do you think, Charley?”

“ I do not want any one to put himself to pain or risk of suffering to serve me ! ”

I think that answer had more to do with determining me to fall m wither. Sinclair’s very plausible scheme than any persuasion comahave had.

“ If you think it wiU be only for a few days — ^wiU involve no untruth — and will be doing a real service — and you will undertake to stand by me through any unforeseen consequences that may arise, I will place myself in your hands j but you also

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must remember tbal^ 1 bave ties and duties, and therefore you must act for me ask H as for Mr. Fanshawe.”

“ Agreed ! said tx^e Doctor, giving me his hand j then, as if fearing I might change my mind, he threw aside his cigar, and taking up the coat which the owner would never again put on, he suggested that I should at once commence action, and use him as agent in my own affairs.

“ I will make the sacrifice as little painful as may be,” he said j ‘‘ and if you could only know the man you wiU represent you would have no hesitation in assuming his reputation. A wonderfully gentle-hearted man ; with a mind susceptible to the most refined beauty, yet with a will strong as iron. We shall not leave you, Charley and I j all details we must arrange as we go to the house.”

“ It is a curious thing,” said I, that the merest accident has set me at hberty for a few days to foUow your wishes. My father was to have come with me to town to choose an organ for his church, but the question of price and size was not satisfactorily settled, so he will wait my return from the Continent ; by that time, no doubt, he wiU have seen the generous neighbor who has promised to give it.”

“ It’s awfully good of you to place yourself in our hands ! ” said Charley, his brown eyes pathetically wistful as he forced himself to look steadily in my face.

Thus the first step was taken in the adventure I have set myself to relate with faithful accuracy.

III

In ten minutes we had reached Mr. Herbert Fanshawe’s chambers. Charley had a latch-key, and led th^way. There was a strange stillness in the house ; the bhn(S were down, out of respect to the death of Mowbray Fanshawe, away in his grand old country house.

‘‘We must take Wylde into our confidence,” said Dr. Sinclair, when he had settled with me what hne of conduct I

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should pursue, and left me to write a letter home and a note of excuse to the organist who had been taking my duty.

I found it difficult to write either letter. Ali the matters I did not intend to speak of came to my mind, and the very commonplace simplicity of my statement that I had arrived safely seemed a deep, concealment of the strange facts that had come to my knowledge.

I found my attention more absorbed with my new surroundings than with my letters. It was a comfortable, not to say luxurious, room j carpets so soft that not a footfall could be heard, and such a wealth of rugs that couches and chairs were littered with them. The photographic portrait of a lady attracted my notice. It was framed in dark leather, and stood on the table at my side.

It was not a very beautiful face. It looked foreign. A comparatively low forehead, imder wavy black hair, knotted rather high, but allowing a great coil to rest as a coronet above the brow, like an old-fashioned picture. The eyes looked out straight into your face. Such eyes ! large and tender, beneath arched, well-marked eyebrows, that reminded one of Spain. The mouth was a little open, and was just such a mouth as one could expect deep, rich, luscious sounds to issue from.

Yes ; she must be a singer, and yet, yet

I had the question on my hps, thinking that either Sinclair or young Fanshawe had entered and was behind me, but, looking up, I caught sight of a face in the large glass before me between the windows — a face that stared at my own reflection in the glass, but was deathly, more deathly stiU as the eyes met the gaze of mine still reflected. Then the door slammed, as loudly as a hst-bound door could slam, and I was alone again with the portrait I had been stud5dng.