Books: Madame Midas
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Fergus Hume >> Madame Midas
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'You wicked old wretch,' said Miss Twexby, viciously--her nose
getting redder with suppressed excitement--'go along with you, and
take that irreligious parrot with you, or I'll wake my par.'
'He won't thank you for doing so,' replied Slivers, coolly; 'I've
called to see him about some new shares just on the market, and if
you don't treat me with more respect I'll go, and he'll be out of a
good thing.'
Now, Miss Twexby knew that Slivers was in the habit of doing
business with her parent, and, moreover was a power in the share
market, so she did not deem it diplomatic to go too far, and
bottling up her wrath for a future occasion, when no loss would be
involved, she graciously asked Slivers what he'd be pleased to have.
'Whisky,' said Slivers, curtly, leaning his chin on his stick, and
following her movements with his one eye. 'I say!'
'Well?' asked Miss Twexby, coming from behind the bar with a glass
and a bottle of whisky, 'what do you say?'
'How's that good-looking Frenchman?' asked Slivers, pouring himself
out some liquor, and winking at her in a rakish manner with his one
eye.
'How should I know?' snapped Martha, angrily, 'he comes here to see
that friend of his, and then clears out without as much as a good
day; a nice sort of friend, indeed,' wrathfully, 'stopping here
nearly two weeks and drunk all the time; he'll be having delirious
trimmings before he's done.'
'Who will ?' said Slivers, taking a sip of his whisky and water.
'Why, that other Frenchman!' retorted Martha, going to her place
behind the bar, 'Peter something; a low, black wretch, all beard,
with no tongue, and a thirst like a lime-kiln.'
'Oh, the dumb man.'
Miss Twexby nodded.
'That's him,' she said, triumphantly, 'he's been here for the last
two weeks.'
'Drunk, I think you said,' remarked Slivers, politely.
Martha laughed scornfully, and took out some sewing.
'I should just think so,' she retorted, tossing her head, 'he does
nothing but drink all day, and run after people with that knife.'
'Very dangerous,' observed Slivers, gravely shaking his head; 'why
don't you get rid of him?'
'So we are,' said Miss Twexby, biting off a bit of cotton, as if she
wished it were Pierre's head; 'he is going down to Melbourne the day
after to-morrow.'
Slivers got weary of hearing about Pierre, and plunged right off
into the object of his visit.
'That Vandeloup,' he began.
'Well?' said Miss Twexby, letting the work fall on her lap.
'What time did he come home the night he stopped here?'
'Twelve o'clock.'
'Get along with you,' said Slivers, in disgust, 'you mean three
o'clock.'
'No, I don't,' retorted Martha, indignantly; 'you'll be telling me I
don't know the time next.'
'Did he go out again?
'No, he went to bed.'
This quite upset Slivers' idea--as if Vandeloup had gone to bed at
twelve, he certainly could not have murdered Villiers nearly a mile
away at two o'clock in the morning. Slivers was puzzled, and then
the light broke on him--perhaps it was the dumb man.
'Did the other stay here all night also?'
Miss Twexby nodded. 'Both in the same room,' she answered.
'What time did the dumb chap come in?'
'Half-past nine.'
Here was another facer for Slivers--as it could not have been
Pierre.
'Did he go to bed?'
'Straight.'
'And did not leave the house again?'
'Of course not,' retorted Miss Twexby, impatiently; 'do you think
I'm a fool--no one goes either in or out of this house without my
knowing it. The dumb devil went to bed at half-past nine, and Mr
Vandeloup at half-past twelve, and they neither of them came out of
their rooms till next morning.'
'How do you know Vandeloup was in at twelve?' asked Slivers, still
unconvinced.
'Drat the man, what's he worryin' about?' rejoined Miss Twexby,
snappishly; 'I let him in myself.'
This clearly closed the subject, and Slivers arose to his feet in
great disgust, upsetting Billy on to the floor.
'Devil!' shrieked Billy, as he dropped. 'Oh, my precious mother.
Devil--devil--devil--you're a liar--you're a liar--Bendigo and
Ballarat--Ballarat and Bendigo--Pickles!'
Having thus run through a portion of his vocabulary, he subsided
into silence, and let Slivers pick him up in order to go home.
'A nice pair you are,' muttered Martha, grimly, looking at them. 'I
wish I had the thrashing of you. Won't you stay and see par?' she
called out as Slivers departed.
'I'll come to-morrow,' answered Slivers, angrily, for he felt very
much out of temper; then, in a lower voice, he observed to himself,
'I'd like to put that jade in a teacup and crush her.'
He stumped home in silence, thinking all the time; and it was only
when he arrived back in his office that he gave utterance to his
thoughts.
'It couldn't have been either of the Frenchmen,' he said, lighting
his pipe. 'She must have done it herself.'
CHAPTER XVI
MCINTOSH SPEAKS HIS MIND
It was some time before Mrs Villiers recovered from the shock caused
by her encounter with her husband. The blow he had struck her on the
side of the head turned out to be more serious than was at first
anticipated, and Selina deemed it advisable that a doctor should be
called in. So Archie went into Ballarat, and returned to the
Pactolus with Dr Gollipeck, an eccentric medical practitioner, whose
peculiarities were the talk of the city.
Dr Gollipeck was tall and lank, with an unfinished look about him,
as if Nature in some sudden freak had seized an incomplete skeleton
from a museum and hastily covered it with parchment. He dressed in
rusty black, wore dingy cotton gloves, carried a large white
umbrella, and surveyed the world through the medium of a pair of
huge spectacles. His clothes were constantly coming undone, as he
scorned the use of buttons, and preferred pins, which were always
scratching his hands. He spoke very little, and was engaged in
composing an erudite work on 'The Art of Poisoning, from Borgia to
Brinvilliers'.
Selina was not at all impressed with his appearance, and mentally
decided that a good wash and a few buttons would improve him
wonderfully. Dr Gollipeck, however, soon verified the adage that
appearances are deceptive--as Selina afterwards remarked to Archie--
by bringing Madame Midas back to health in a wonderfully short space
of time. She was now convalescent, and, seated in the arm-chair by
the window, looked dreamily at the landscape. She was thinking of
her husband, and in what manner he would annoy her next; but she
half thought--and the wish was father to the half thought--that
having got the nugget he would now leave her alone.
She knew that he had not been in Ballarat since that fatal night
when he had attacked her, but imagined that he was merely hiding
till such time as the storm should blow over and he could enjoy his
ill-gotten gains in safety. The letter asking him to give up the
nugget and ordering him to leave the district under threat of
prosecution had been sent to his lodgings, but was still lying there
unopened. The letters accumulated into quite a little pile as weeks
rolled on, yet Mr Villiers, if he was alive, made no sign, and if he
was dead, no traces had been found of his body. McIntosh and Slivers
had both seen the police about the affair, one in order to recover
the nugget, the other actuated by bitter enmity against Madame
Midas. To Slivers' hints, that perhaps Villiers' wife knew more than
she chose to tell, the police turned a deaf ear, as they assured
Slivers that they had made inquiries, and on the authority of Selina
and McIntosh could safely say that Madame Midas had been home that
night at half-past nine o'clock, whereas Villiers was still alive in
Ballarat--as could be proved by the evidence of Mr Jarper--at two
o'clock in the morning. So, foiled on every side in his endeavours
to implicate Mrs Villiers in her husband's disappearance, Slivers
retired to his office, and, assisted by his ungodly cockatoo, passed
many hours in swearing at his bad luck and in cursing the absent
Villiers.
As to M. Vandeloup, he was indefatigable in his efforts to find
Villiers, for, as he very truly said, he could never repay Madame
Midas sufficiently for her kindness to him, and he wanted to do all
in his power to punish her cruel husband. But in spite of all this
seeking, the whereabouts of Mr Randolph Villiers remained
undiscovered, and at last, in despair, everyone gave up looking.
Villiers had disappeared entirely, and had taken the nugget with
him, so where he was and what he was doing remained a mystery.
One result of Madame's illness was that M. Vandeloup had met Dr
Gollipeck, and the two, though apparently dissimilar in both
character and appearance, had been attracted to one another by a
liking which they had in common. This was the study of toxicology, a
science at which the eccentric old man had spent a lifetime. He
found in Vandeloup a congenial spirit, for the young Frenchman had a
wonderful liking for the uncanny subject; but there was a difference
in the aims of both men, Gollipeck being drawn to the study of
poisons from a pure love of the subject, whereas Vandeloup wanted to
find out the secrets of toxicology for his own ends, which were
anything but disinterested.
Wearied of the dull routine of the office work, Vandeloup was taking
a walk in the meadows which surrounded the Pactolus, when he saw Dr
Gollipeck shuffling along the dusty white road from the railway
station.
'Good day, Monsieur le Medecin,' said Vandeloup, gaily, as he came
up to the old man; 'are you going to see our mutual friend?'
Gollipeck, ever sparing of words, nodded in reply, and trudged on in
silence, but the Frenchmen, being used to the eccentricities of his
companion, was in nowise offended at his silence, but went on
talking in an animated manner.
'Ah, my dear friend,' he said, pushing his straw hat back on his
fair head; 'how goes on the great work?'
'Capitally,' returned the doctor, with a complacent smile; 'just
finished "Catherine de Medici"--wonderful woman, sir--quite a
mistress of the art of poisoning.'
'Humph,' returned Vandeloup, thoughtfully, lighting a cigarette, 'I
do not agree with you there; it was her so-called astrologer,
Ruggieri, who prepared all her potions. Catherine certainly had the
power, but Ruggieri possessed the science--a very fair division of
labour for getting rid of people, I must say--but what have you got
there?' nodding towards a large book which Gollipeck carried under
his arm.
'For you,' answered the other, taking the book slowly from under his
arm, and thereby causing another button to fly off, 'quite new,--
work on toxicology.'
'Thank you,' said Vandeloup, taking the heavy volume and looking at
the title; 'French, I see! I'm sure it will be pleasant reading.'
The title of the book was 'Les Empoisonneurs d'Aujourd'hui, par MM.
Prevol et Lebrun', and it had only been published the previous year;
so as he turned over the leaves carelessly, M. Vandeloup caught
sight of a name which he knew. He smiled a little, and closing the
book put it under his arm, while he turned smilingly towards his
companion, whom he found looking keenly at him.
'I shall enjoy this book immensely,' he said, touching the volume.
Dr Gollipeck nodded and chuckled in a hoarse rattling kind of way.
'So I should think,' he answered, with another sharp look, 'you are
a very clever young man, my friend.'
Vandeloup acknowledged the compliment with a bow, and wondered
mentally what this old man meant. Gaston, however, was never without
an answer, so he turned to Gollipeck again with a nonchalant smile
on his handsome lips.
'So kind of you to think well of me,' he said, coolly flicking the
ash off the end of his cigarette with his little finger; 'but why do
you pay me such a compliment?'
Gollipeck answered the question by asking another.
'Why are you so fond of toxicology?' he said, abruptly, shuffling
his feet in the long dry grass in which they were now walking in
order to rub the dust off his ungainly, ill-blacked shoes.
Vandeloup shrugged his shoulders.
'To pass the time,' he said, carelessly, 'that is all; even office
work, exciting as it is, becomes wearisome, so I must take up some
subject to amuse myself.'
'Curious taste for a young man,' remarked the doctor, dryly.
'Nature,' said M. Vandeloup, 'does not form men all on the same
pattern, and my taste for toxicology has at least the charm of
novelty.'
Gollipeck looked at the young man again in a sharp manner.
'I hope you'll enjoy the book,' he said, abruptly, and vanished into
the house.
When he was gone, the mocking smile so habitual to Vandeloup's
countenance faded away, and his face assumed a thoughtful
expression. He opened the book, and turned over the leaves rapidly,
but without finding what he was in search of. With an uneasy laugh
he shut the volume with a snap, and put it under his arm again.
'He's an enigma,' he thought, referring to the doctor; 'but he can't
suspect anything. The case may be in this book, but I doubt if even
this man with the barbarous name can connect Gaston Vandeloup, of
Ballarat, with Octave Braulard, of Paris.'
His face reassumed its usual gay look, and throwing away the half-
smoked cigarette, he walked into the house and found Madame Midas
seated in her arm-chair near the window looking pale and ill, while
Archie was walking up and down in an excited manner, and talking
volubly in broad Scotch. As to Dr Gollipeck, that eccentric
individual was standing in front of the fire, looking even more
dilapidated than usual, and drying his red bandanna handkerchief in
an abstract manner. Selina was in another room getting a drink for
Madame, and as Vandeloup entered she came back with it.
'Good day, Madame,' said the Frenchman, advancing to the table, and
putting his hat and the book down on it. 'How are you today?'
'Better, much better, thank you,' said Madame, with a faint smile;
'the doctor assures me I shall be quite well in a week.'
'With perfect rest and quiet, of course,' interposed Gollipeck,
sitting down and spreading his handkerchief over his knees.
'Which Madame does not seem likely to get,' observed Vandeloup,
dryly, with a glance at McIntosh, who was still pacing up and down
the room with an expression of wrath on his severe face.
'Ou, ay,' said that gentleman, stopping in front of Vandeloup, with
a fine expression of scorn. 'I ken weel 'tis me ye are glowerin' at-
-div ye no' ken what's the matter wi' me?'
'Not being in your confidence,' replied Gaston, smoothly, taking a
seat, 'I can hardly say that I do.'
'It's just that Peter o' yours,' said Archie, with a snort; 'a puir
weecked unbaptised child o' Satan.'
'Archie!' interposed Madame, with some severity.
'Your pardon's begged, mem,' said Archie, sourly turning to her;
'but as for that Peter body, the Lord keep me tongue fra' swearin',
an' my hand from itching to gie him ain on the lug, when I think o'
him.'
'What's he been doing?' asked Vandeloup, coolly. 'I am quite
prepared to hear anything about him in his present state.'
'It's just this,' burst forth Archie, wrathfully. 'I went intil the
toun to the hotel, to tell the body he must come back tae the mine,
and I find him no in a fit state for a Christian to speak to.'
'Therefore,' interposed Vandeloup, in his even voice, without
lifting his eyes, 'it was a pity you did speak to him.'
'I gang t' the room,' went on Archie excitedly, without paying any
attention to Vandeloup's remark, 'an' the deil flew on me wi' a
dirk, and wud hae split my weasand, but I hed the sense to bang the
door to, and turn the key in the lock. D'y ca' that conduct for a
ceevilized body?'
'The fact is, M. Vandeloup,' said Madame, quietly, 'Archie is so
annoyed at this conduct that he does not want Lemaire to come back
to work.'
'Ma certie, I should just think so,' cried McIntosh, rubbing his
head with his handkerchief. 'Fancy an imp of Beelzebub like yon in
the bowels o' the earth. Losh! but it macks my bluid rin cauld when
I think o' the bluidthirsty pagan.'
To Vandeloup, this information was not unpleasant. He was anxious to
get rid of Pierre, who was such an incubus, and now saw that he
could send him away without appearing to wish to get rid of him. But
as he was a diplomatic young man he did not allow his satisfaction
to appear on his face.
'Aren't you rather hard on him?' he said, coolly, leaning back in
his chair; 'he is simply drunk, and will be all right soon.'
'I tell ye I'll no have him back,' said Archie, firmly; 'he's ain o'
they foreign bodies full of revolutions an' confusion o' tongues,
and I'd no feel safe i' the mine if I kenned that deil was doon
below wi' his dirk.'
'I really think he ought to go,' said Madame, looking rather
anxiously at Vandeloup, 'unless, M. Vandeloup, you do not want to
part with him.'
'Oh, I don't want him,' said Vandeloup, hastily; 'as I told you, he
was only one of the sailors on board the ship I was wrecked in, and
he followed me up here because I was the only friend he had, but now
he has got money--or, at least, his wages must come to a good
amount.'
'Forty pounds,' interposed Archie.
'So I think the best thing he can do is to go to Melbourne, and see
if he can get back to France.'
'And you, M. Vandeloup?' asked Dr Gollipeck, who had been listening
to the young Frenchman's remarks with great interest; 'do you not
wish to go to France?'
Vandeloup rose coolly from his chair, and, picking up his book and
hat, turned to the doctor.
'My dear Monsieur,' he said, leaning up against the wall in a
graceful manner, 'I left France to see the world, so until I have
seen it I don't think it would be worthwhile to return.'
'Never go back when you have once put your hand to the plough,'
observed Selina, opportunely, upon which Vandeloup bowed to her.
'Mademoiselle,' he said, quietly, with a charming smile, 'has put
the matter into the shell of a nut; Australia is my plough, and I do
not take my hand away until I have finished with it.'
'But that deil o' a Peter,' said Archie, impatiently.
'If you will permit me, Madame,' said Vandeloup, 'I will write out a
cheque for the amount of money due to him, and you will sign it. I
will go into Ballarat to-morrow, and get him away to Melbourne. I
propose to buy him a box and some clothes, as he certainly is not
capable of getting them himself.'
'You have a kind heart, M. Vandeloup,' said Madame, as she assented
with a nod.
A stifled laugh came from the Doctor, but as he was such an
extremely eccentric individual no one minded him.
'Come, Monsieur,' said Vandeloup, going to the door, 'let us be off
to the office and see how much is due to my friend,' and with a bow
to Madame, he went out.
'A braw sort o' freend,' muttered Archie, as he followed.
'Quite good enough for him,' retorted Dr Gollipeck, who overheard
him.
Archie looked at him approvingly, nodded his head, and went out
after the Frenchman, but Madame, being a woman and curious, asked
the doctor what he meant.
His reply was peculiar.
'Our friend,' he said, putting his handkerchief in his pocket and
seizing his greasy old hat, 'our friend believes in the greatest
number.'
'And what is the greatest number?' asked Madame, innocently.
'Number one,' retorted the Doctor, and took his leave abruptly,
leaving two buttons and several pins on the floor as traces of his
visit.
CHAPTER XVII
THE BEST OF FRIENDS MUST PART
Union is strength, and if Dr Gollipeck had only met Slivers and
revealed his true opinion of Vandeloup to him, no doubt that clever
young man would have found himself somewhat embarrassed, as a great
deal of a man's past history can be found out by the simple plan of
putting two and two together. Fortunately, however, for Gaston,
these two gentlemen never met, and Gollipeck came to the conclusion
that he could see nothing to blame in Vandeloup's conduct, though he
certainly mistrusted him, and determined mentally to keep an eye on
his movements. What led him to be suspicious was the curious
resemblance the appearance of this young man had to that of a
criminal described in the 'Les Empoisonneurs d'Aujourd'hui' as
having been transported to New Caledonia for the crime of poisoning
his mistress. Everything, however, was vague and uncertain; so Dr
Gollipeck, when he arrived home, came to the above-named conclusion
that he would watch Vandeloup, and then, dismissing him from his
mind, went to work on his favourite subject.
Meanwhile, M. Vandeloup slept the sleep of the just, and next
morning, after making his inquiries after the health of Madame
Midas--a thing he never neglected to do--he went into Ballarat in
search of Pierre. On arriving at the Wattle Tree Hotel he was
received by Miss Twexby in dignified silence, for that astute damsel
was beginning to regard the fascinating Frenchman as a young man who
talked a great deal and meant nothing.
He was audacious enough to win her virgin heart and then break it,
so Miss Twexby thought the wisest thing would be to keep him at a
distance. So Vandeloup's bright smiles and merry jokes failed to
call forth any response from the fair Martha, who sat silently in
the bar, looking like a crabbed sphinx.
'Is my friend Pierre in?' asked Vandeloup, leaning across the
counter, and looking lovingly at Miss Twexby.
That lady intimated coldly that he was in, and had been for the last
two weeks; also that she was sick of him, and she'd thank M.
Vandeloup to clear him out--all of which amused Vandeloup mightily,
though he still continued to smile coolly on the sour-faced damsel
before him.
'Would you mind going and telling him I want to see him?' he asked,
lounging to the door.
'Me!' shrieked Martha, in a shrill voice, shooting up from behind
the counter like an infuriated jack-in-the-box. 'No, I shan't. Why,
the last time I saw him he nearly cut me like a ham sandwich with
that knife of his. I am not,' pursued Miss Twexby, furiously, 'a
loaf of bread to be cut, neither am I a pin-cushion to have things
stuck into me; so if you want to be a corpse, you'd better go up
yourself.'
'I hardly think he'll touch me,' replied Vandeloup, coolly, going
towards the door which led to Pierre's bedroom. 'You've had a lot of
trouble with him, I'm afraid; but he's going down to Melbourne
tonight, so it will be all right.'
'And the bill?' queried Miss Twexby, anxiously.
'I will pay it,' said Vandeloup, at which she was going to say he
was very generous, but suppressed the compliment when he added, 'out
of his own money.'
Gaston, however, failed to persuade Pierre to accompany him round to
buy an outfit. For the dumb man lay on his bed, and obstinately
refused to move out of the room. He, however, acquiesced sullenly
when his friend told him he was going to Melbourne, so Vandeloup
left the room, having first secured Pierre's knife, and locked the
door after him. He gave the knife to Miss Twexby, with injunctions
to her to keep it safe, then sallied forth to buy his shipwrecked
friend a box and some clothes.
He spent about ten pounds in buying an outfit for the dumb man,
hired a cab to call at the 'Wattle Tree' Hotel at seven o'clock to
take the box and its owner to the station. And then feeling he had
done his duty and deserved some recompense, he had a nice little
luncheon and a small bottle of wine for which he paid out of
Pierre's money. When he finished he bought a choice cigar, had a
glass of Chartreuse, and after resting in the commercial room for a
time he went out for a walk, intending to call on Slivers and Dr
Gollipeck, and in fact do anything to kill time until it would be
necessary for him to go to Pierre and take him to the railway
station.
He walked slowly up Sturt Street, and as the afternoon was so warm,
thought he would go up to Lake Wendouree, which is at the top of the
town, and see if it was any cooler by the water. The day was
oppressively hot, but not with the bright, cheery warmth of a
summer's day, for the sun was hidden behind great masses of angry-
looking clouds, and it seemed as if a thunderstorm would soon break
over the city. Even Vandeloup, full of life and animation as he was,
felt weighed down by the heaviness of the atmosphere, and feeling
quite exhausted when he arrived at the lake, he was glad enough to
sit down on one of the seats for a rest.
The lake under the black sky was a dull leaden hue, and as there was
no wind the water was perfectly still. Even the trees all round it
were motionless, as there came no breeze to stir their leaves, and
the only sounds that could be heard were the dull croaking of the
frogs amid the water grasses, and the shrill cries of children
playing on the green turf. Every now and then a steamer would skim
across the surface of the water in an airy manner, looking more like
a child's clockwork toy than anything else, and Vandeloup, when he
saw one of these arrive at the little pier, almost expected to see a
man put in a huge key to the paddle wheels and wind it up again.
On one of the seats Vandeloup espied a little figure in white, and
seeing that it was Kitty, he strolled up to her in a leisurely
manner. She was looking at the ground when he came up, and was
prodding holes in the spongy turf with her umbrella, but glanced up
carelessly as he came near. Then she sprang up with a cry of joy,
and throwing her arms around his neck, she kissed him twice.
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