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  STORY OF THE PHYSICIAN AND THE SARATOGA TRUNK

  MR. SILAS Q. SCUDDAMORE was a young American of a simple and harmlessdisposition, which was the more to his credit as he came from NewEngland—a quarter of the New World not precisely famous for thosequalities. Although he was exceedingly rich, he kept a note of all hisexpenses in a little paper pocket-book; and he had chosen to study theattractions of Paris from the seventh story of what is called a furnishedhotel, in the Latin Quarter. There was a great deal of habit in hispenuriousness; and his virtue, which was very remarkable among hisassociates, was principally founded upon diffidence and youth.

  The next room to his was inhabited by a lady, very attractive in her airand very elegant in toilette, whom, on his first arrival, he had takenfor a Countess. In course of time he had learned that she was known bythe name of Madame Zéphyrine, and that whatever station she occupied inlife it was not that of a person of title. Madame Zéphyrine, probably inthe hope of enchanting the young American, used to flaunt by him on thestairs with a civil inclination, a word of course, and a knock-down lookout of her black eyes, and disappear in a rustle of silk, and with therevelation of an admirable foot and ankle. But these advances, so farfrom encouraging Mr. Scuddamore, plunged him into the depths ofdepression and bashfulness. She had come to him several times for alight, or to apologise for the imaginary depredations of her poodle; buthis mouth was closed in the presence of so superior a being, his Frenchpromptly left him, and he could only stare and stammer until she wasgone. The slenderness of their intercourse did not prevent him fromthrowing out insinuations of a very glorious order when he was safelyalone with a few males.

  The room on the other side of the American’s—for there were three roomson a floor in the hotel—was tenanted by an old English physician ofrather doubtful reputation. Dr. Noel, for that was his name, had beenforced to leave London, where he enjoyed a large and increasing practice;and it was hinted that the police had been the instigators of this changeof scene. At least he, who had made something of a figure in earlierlife, now dwelt in the Latin Quarter in great simplicity and solitude,and devoted much of his time to study. Mr. Scuddamore had made hisacquaintance, and the pair would now and then dine together frugally in arestaurant across the street.

  Silas Q. Scuddamore had many little vices of the more respectable order,and was not restrained by delicacy from indulging them in many ratherdoubtful ways. Chief among his foibles stood curiosity. He was a borngossip; and life, and especially those parts of it in which he had noexperience, interested him to the degree of passion. He was a pert,invincible questioner, pushing his inquiries with equal pertinacity andindiscretion; he had been observed, when he took a letter to the post, toweigh it in his hand, to turn it over and over, and to study the addresswith care; and when he found a flaw in the partition between his room andMadame Zéphyrine’s, instead of filling it up, he enlarged and improvedthe opening, and made use of it as a spy-hole on his neighbour’s affairs.

  One day, in the end of March, his curiosity growing as it was indulged,he enlarged the hole a little further, so that he might command anothercorner of the room. That evening, when he went as usual to inspectMadame Zéphyrine’s movements, he was astonished to find the apertureobscured in an odd manner on the other side, and still more abashed whenthe obstacle was suddenly withdrawn and a titter of laughter reached hisears. Some of the plaster had evidently betrayed the secret of hisspy-hole, and his neighbour had been returning the compliment in kind.Mr. Scuddamore was moved to a very acute feeling of annoyance; hecondemned Madame Zéphyrine unmercifully; he even blamed himself; but whenhe found, next day, that she had taken no means to baulk him of hisfavourite pastime, he continued to profit by her carelessness, andgratify his idle curiosity.

  That next day Madame Zéphyrine received a long visit from a tall,loosely-built man of fifty or upwards, whom Silas had not hitherto seen.His tweed suit and coloured shirt, no less than his shaggy side-whiskers,identified him as a Britisher, and his dull grey eye affected Silas witha sense of cold. He kept screwing his mouth from side to side and roundand round during the whole colloquy, which was carried on in whispers.More than once it seemed to the young New Englander as if their gesturesindicated his own apartment; but the only thing definite he could gatherby the most scrupulous attention was this remark made by the Englishmanin a somewhat higher key, as if in answer to some reluctance oropposition.

  “I have studied his taste to a nicety, and I tell you again and again youare the only woman of the sort that I can lay my hands on.”

  In answer to this, Madame Zéphyrine sighed, and appeared by a gesture toresign herself, like one yielding to unqualified authority.

  That afternoon the observatory was finally blinded, a wardrobe havingbeen drawn in front of it upon the other side; and while Silas was stilllamenting over this misfortune, which he attributed to the Britisher’smalign suggestion, the concierge brought him up a letter in a femalehandwriting. It was conceived in French of no very rigorous orthography,bore no signature, and in the most encouraging terms invited the youngAmerican to be present in a certain part of the Bullier Ball at eleveno’clock that night. Curiosity and timidity fought a long battle in hisheart; sometimes he was all virtue, sometimes all fire and daring; andthe result of it was that, long before ten, Mr. Silas Q. Scuddamorepresented himself in unimpeachable attire at the door of the Bullier BallRooms, and paid his entry money with a sense of reckless devilry that wasnot without its charm.

  It was Carnival time, and the Ball was very full and noisy. The lightsand the crowd at first rather abashed our young adventurer, and then,mounting to his brain with a sort of intoxication, put him in possessionof more than his own share of manhood. He felt ready to face the devil,and strutted in the ballroom with the swagger of a cavalier. While hewas thus parading, he became aware of Madame Zéphyrine and her Britisherin conference behind a pillar. The cat-like spirit of eaves-droppingovercame him at once. He stole nearer and nearer on the couple frombehind, until he was within earshot.

  “That is the man,” the Britisher was saying; “there—with the long blondhair—speaking to a girl in green.”

  Silas identified a very handsome young fellow of small stature, who wasplainly the object of this designation.

  “It is well,” said Madame Zéphyrine. “I shall do my utmost. But,remember, the best of us may fail in such a matter.”

  “Tut!” returned her companion; “I answer for the result. Have I notchosen you from thirty? Go; but be wary of the Prince. I cannot thinkwhat cursed accident has brought him here to-night. As if there were nota dozen balls in Paris better worth his notice than this riot of studentsand counter-jumpers! See him where he sits, more like a reigning Emperorat home than a Prince upon his holidays!”

  Silas was again lucky. He observed a person of rather a full build,strikingly handsome, and of a very stately and courteous demeanour,seated at table with another handsome young man, several years hisjunior, who addressed him with conspicuous deference. The name of Princestruck gratefully on Silas’s Republican hearing, and the aspect of theperson to whom that name was applied exercised its usual charm upon hismind. He left Madame Zéphyrine and her Englishman to take care of eachother, and threading his way through the assembly, approached the tablewhich the Prince and his confidant had honoured with their choice.

  “I tell you, Geraldine,” the former was saying, “the action is madness.Yourself (I am glad to remember it) chose your brother for this perilousservice, and you are bound in duty to have a guard upon his conduct. Hehas consented to delay so many days in Paris; that was already animprudence, considering the character of the man he has to deal with; butnow, when he is within eight-and-forty hours of his departure, when he iswithin two or three days of the decisive trial, I ask you, is this aplace for him to spend his time? He should be in a gallery at practice;he should be sleeping long hours and taking moderate exercise on foot; heshould be on a rigorous diet, without white wines or brandy.
Does thedog imagine we are all playing comedy? The thing is deadly earnest,Geraldine.”

  “I know the lad too well to interfere,” replied Colonel Geraldine, “andwell enough not to be alarmed. He is more cautious than you fancy, andof an indomitable spirit. If it had been a woman I should not say somuch, but I trust the President to him and the two valets without aninstant’s apprehension.”

  “I am gratified to hear you say so,” replied the Prince; “but my mind isnot at rest. These servants are well-trained spies, and already has notthis miscreant succeeded three times in eluding their observation andspending several hours on end in private, and most likely dangerous,affairs? An amateur might have lost him by accident, but if Rudolph andJérome were thrown off the scent, it must have been done on purpose, andby a man who had a cogent reason and exceptional resources.”

  “I believe the question is now one between my brother and myself,”replied Geraldine, with a shade of offence in his tone.

  “I permit it to be so, Colonel Geraldine,” returned Prince Florizel.“Perhaps, for that very reason, you should be all the more ready toaccept my counsels. But enough. That girl in yellow dances well.”

  And the talk veered into the ordinary topics of a Paris ballroom in theCarnival.

  Silas remembered where he was, and that the hour was already near at handwhen he ought to be upon the scene of his assignation. The more hereflected the less he liked the prospect, and as at that moment an eddyin the crowd began to draw him in the direction of the door, he sufferedit to carry him away without resistance. The eddy stranded him in acorner under the gallery, where his ear was immediately struck with thevoice of Madame Zéphyrine. She was speaking in French with the young manof the blond locks who had been pointed out by the strange Britisher nothalf-an-hour before.

  “I have a character at stake,” she said, “or I would put no othercondition than my heart recommends. But you have only to say so much tothe porter, and he will let you go by without a word.”

  “But why this talk of debt?” objected her companion.

  “Heavens!” said she, “do you think I do not understand my own hotel?”

  And she went by, clinging affectionately to her companion’s arm.

  This put Silas in mind of his billet.

  “Ten minutes hence,” thought he, “and I may be walking with as beautifula woman as that, and even better dressed—perhaps a real lady, possibly awoman or title.”

  And then he remembered the spelling, and was a little downcast.

  “But it may have been written by her maid,” he imagined.

  The clock was only a few minutes from the hour, and this immediateproximity set his heart beating at a curious and rather disagreeablespeed. He reflected with relief that he was in no way bound to put in anappearance. Virtue and cowardice were together, and he made once morefor the door, but this time of his own accord, and battling against thestream of people which was now moving in a contrary direction. Perhapsthis prolonged resistance wearied him, or perhaps he was in that frame ofmind when merely to continue in the same determination for a certainnumber of minutes produces a reaction and a different purpose.Certainly, at least, he wheeled about for a third time, and did not stopuntil he had found a place of concealment within a few yards of theappointed place.

  Here he went through an agony of spirit, in which he several times prayedto God for help, for Silas had been devoutly educated. He had now notthe least inclination for the meeting; nothing kept him from flight but asilly fear lest he should be thought unmanly; but this was so powerfulthat it kept head against all other motives; and although it could notdecide him to advance, prevented him from definitely running away. Atlast the clock indicated ten minutes past the hour. Young Scuddamore’sspirit began to rise; he peered round the corner and saw no one at theplace of meeting; doubtless his unknown correspondent had wearied andgone away. He became as bold as he had formerly been timid. It seemedto him that if he came at all to the appointment, however late, he wasclear from the charge of cowardice. Nay, now he began to suspect a hoax,and actually complimented himself on his shrewdness in having suspectedand outmanoeuvred his mystifiers. So very idle a thing is a boy’s mind!

  Armed with these reflections, he advanced boldly from his corner; but hehad not taken above a couple of steps before a hand was laid upon hisarm. He turned and beheld a lady cast in a very large mould and withsomewhat stately features, but bearing no mark of severity in her looks.

  “I see that you are a very self-confident lady-killer,” said she; “foryou make yourself expected. But I was determined to meet you. When awoman has once so far forgotten herself as to make the first advance, shehas long ago left behind her all considerations of petty pride.”

  Silas was overwhelmed by the size and attractions of his correspondentand the suddenness with which she had fallen upon him. But she soon sethim at his ease. She was very towardly and lenient in her behaviour; sheled him on to make pleasantries, and then applauded him to the echo; andin a very short time, between blandishments and a liberal exhibition ofwarm brandy, she had not only induced him to fancy himself in love, butto declare his passion with the greatest vehemence.

  “Alas!” she said; “I do not know whether I ought not to deplore thismoment, great as is the pleasure you give me by your words. Hitherto Iwas alone to suffer; now, poor boy, there will be two. I am not my ownmistress. I dare not ask you to visit me at my own house, for I amwatched by jealous eyes. Let me see,” she added; “I am older than you,although so much weaker; and while I trust in your courage anddetermination, I must employ my own knowledge of the world for our mutualbenefit. Where do you live?”

  He told her that he lodged in a furnished hotel, and named the street andnumber.

  She seemed to reflect for some minutes, with an effort of mind.

  “I see,” she said at last. “You will be faithful and obedient, will younot?”

  Silas assured her eagerly of his fidelity.

  “To-morrow night, then,” she continued, with an encouraging smile, “youmust remain at home all the evening; and if any friends should visit you,dismiss them at once on any pretext that most readily presents itself.Your door is probably shut by ten?” she asked.

  “By eleven,” answered Silas.

  “At a quarter past eleven,” pursued the lady, “leave the house. Merelycry for the door to be opened, and be sure you fall into no talk with theporter, as that might ruin everything. Go straight to the corner wherethe Luxembourg Gardens join the Boulevard; there you will find me waitingyou. I trust you to follow my advice from point to point: and remember,if you fail me in only one particular, you will bring the sharpesttrouble on a woman whose only fault is to have seen and loved you.”

  “I cannot see the use of all these instructions,” said Silas.

  “I believe you are already beginning to treat me as a master,” she cried,tapping him with her fan upon the arm. “Patience, patience! that shouldcome in time. A woman loves to be obeyed at first, although afterwardsshe finds her pleasure in obeying. Do as I ask you, for Heaven’s sake,or I will answer for nothing. Indeed, now I think of it,” she added,with the manner of one who has just seen further into a difficulty, “Ifind a better plan of keeping importunate visitors away. Tell the porterto admit no one for you, except a person who may come that night to claima debt; and speak with some feeling, as though you feared the interview,so that he may take your words in earnest.”

  “I think you may trust me to protect myself against intruders,” he said,not without a little pique.

  “That is how I should prefer the thing arranged,” she answered coldly.“I know you men; you think nothing of a woman’s reputation.”

  Silas blushed and somewhat hung his head; for the scheme he had in viewhad involved a little vain-glorying before his acquaintances.

  “Above all,” she added, “do not speak to the porter as you come out.”

  “And why?” said he. “Of all your instructions, tha
t seems to me theleast important.”

  “You at first doubted the wisdom of some of the others, which you now seeto be very necessary,” she replied. “Believe me, this also has its uses;in time you will see them; and what am I to think of your affection, ifyou refuse me such trifles at our first interview?”

  Silas confounded himself in explanations and apologies; in the middle ofthese she looked up at the clock and clapped her hands together with asuppressed scream.

  “Heavens!” she cried, “is it so late? I have not an instant to lose.Alas, we poor women, what slaves we are! What have I not risked for youalready?”

  And after repeating her directions, which she artfully combined withcaresses and the most abandoned looks, she bade him farewell anddisappeared among the crowd.

  The whole of the next day Silas was filled with a sense of greatimportance; he was now sure she was a countess; and when evening came heminutely obeyed her orders and was at the corner of the LuxembourgGardens by the hour appointed. No one was there. He waited nearlyhalf-an-hour, looking in the face of every one who passed or loiterednear the spot; he even visited the neighbouring corners of the Boulevardand made a complete circuit of the garden railings; but there was nobeautiful countess to throw herself into his arms. At last, and mostreluctantly, he began to retrace his steps towards his hotel. On the wayhe remembered the words he had heard pass between Madame Zéphyrine andthe blond young man, and they gave him an indefinite uneasiness.

  “It appears,” he reflected, “that every one has to tell lies to ourporter.”

  He rang the bell, the door opened before him, and the porter in hisbed-clothes came to offer him a light.

  “Has he gone?” inquired the porter.

  “He? Whom do you mean?” asked Silas, somewhat sharply, for he wasirritated by his disappointment.

  “I did not notice him go out,” continued the porter, “but I trust youpaid him. We do not care, in this house, to have lodgers who cannot meettheir liabilities.”

  “What the devil do you mean?” demanded Silas rudely. “I cannotunderstand a word of this farrago.”

  “The short blond young man who came for his debt,” returned the other.“Him it is I mean. Who else should it be, when I had your orders toadmit no one else?”

  “Why, good God, of course he never came,” retorted Silas.

  “I believe what I believe,” returned the porter, putting his tongue intohis cheek with a most roguish air.

  “You are an insolent scoundrel,” cried Silas, and, feeling that he hadmade a ridiculous exhibition of asperity, and at the same time bewilderedby a dozen alarms, he turned and began to run upstairs.

  “Do you not want a light then?” cried the porter.

  But Silas only hurried the faster, and did not pause until he had reachedthe seventh landing and stood in front of his own door. There he waiteda moment to recover his breath, assailed by the worst forebodings andalmost dreading to enter the room.

  When at last he did so he was relieved to find it dark, and to allappearance, untenanted. He drew a long breath. Here he was, home againin safety, and this should be his last folly as certainly as it had beenhis first. The matches stood on a little table by the bed, and he beganto grope his way in that direction. As he moved, his apprehensions grewupon him once more, and he was pleased, when his foot encountered anobstacle, to find it nothing more alarming than a chair. At last hetouched curtains. From the position of the window, which was faintlyvisible, he knew he must be at the foot of the bed, and had only to feelhis way along it in order to reach the table in question.

  He lowered his hand, but what it touched was not simply a counterpane—itwas a counterpane with something underneath it like the outline of ahuman leg. Silas withdrew his arm and stood a moment petrified.

  “What, what,” he thought, “can this betoken?”

  He listened intently, but there was no sound of breathing. Once more,with a great effort, he reached out the end of his finger to the spot hehad already touched; but this time he leaped back half a yard, and stoodshivering and fixed with terror. There was something in his bed. Whatit was he knew not, but there was something there.

  It was some seconds before he could move. Then, guided by an instinct,he fell straight upon the matches, and keeping his back towards the bedlighted a candle. As soon as the flame had kindled, he turned slowlyround and looked for what he feared to see. Sure enough, there was theworst of his imaginations realised. The coverlid was drawn carefully upover the pillow, but it moulded the outline of a human body lyingmotionless; and when he dashed forward and flung aside the sheets, hebeheld the blond young man whom he had seen in the Bullier Ball the nightbefore, his eyes open and without speculation, his face swollen andblackened, and a thin stream of blood trickling from his nostrils.

  Silas uttered a long, tremulous wail, dropped the candle, and fell on hisknees beside the bed.

  Silas was awakened from the stupor into which his terrible discovery hadplunged him by a prolonged but discreet tapping at the door. It took himsome seconds to remember his position; and when he hastened to preventanyone from entering it was already too late. Dr. Noel, in a tallnight-cap, carrying a lamp which lighted up his long white countenance,sidling in his gait, and peering and cocking his head like some sort ofbird, pushed the door slowly open, and advanced into the middle of theroom.

  “I thought I heard a cry,” began the Doctor, “and fearing you might beunwell I did not hesitate to offer this intrusion.”

  Silas, with a flushed face and a fearful beating heart, kept between theDoctor and the bed; but he found no voice to answer.

  “You are in the dark,” pursued the Doctor; “and yet you have not evenbegun to prepare for rest. You will not easily persuade me against myown eyesight; and your face declares most eloquently that you requireeither a friend or a physician—which is it to be? Let me feel yourpulse, for that is often a just reporter of the heart.”

  He advanced to Silas, who still retreated before him backwards, andsought to take him by the wrist; but the strain on the young American’snerves had become too great for endurance. He avoided the Doctor with afebrile movement, and, throwing himself upon the floor, burst into aflood of weeping.

  As soon as Dr. Noel perceived the dead man in the bed his face darkened;and hurrying back to the door which he had left ajar, he hastily closedand double-locked it.

  “Up!” he cried, addressing Silas in strident tones; “this is no time forweeping. What have you done? How came this body in your room? Speakfreely to one who may be helpful. Do you imagine I would ruin you? Doyou think this piece of dead flesh on your pillow can alter in any degreethe sympathy with which you have inspired me? Credulous youth, thehorror with which blind and unjust law regards an action never attachesto the doer in the eyes of those who love him; and if I saw the friend ofmy heart return to me out of seas of blood he would be in no way changedin my affection. Raise yourself,” he said; “good and ill are a chimera;there is nought in life except destiny, and however you may becircumstanced there is one at your side who will help you to the last.”

  Thus encouraged, Silas gathered himself together, and in a broken voice,and helped out by the Doctor’s interrogations, contrived at last to puthim in possession of the facts. But the conversation between the Princeand Geraldine he altogether omitted, as he had understood little of itspurport, and had no idea that it was in any way related to his ownmisadventure.

  “Alas!” cried Dr. Noel, “I am much abused, or you have fallen innocentlyinto the most dangerous hands in Europe. Poor boy, what a pit has beendug for your simplicity! into what a deadly peril have your unwary feetbeen conducted! This man,” he said, “this Englishman, whom you twicesaw, and whom I suspect to be the soul of the contrivance, can youdescribe him? Was he young or old? tall or short?”

  But Silas, who, for all his curiosity, had not a seeing eye in his head,was able to supply nothing but meagre generalities, which it wasimpossible to recognise.
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  “I would have it a piece of education in all schools!” cried the Doctorangrily. “Where is the use of eyesight and articulate speech if a mancannot observe and recollect the features of his enemy? I, who know allthe gangs of Europe, might have identified him, and gained new weaponsfor your defence. Cultivate this art in future, my poor boy; you mayfind it of momentous service.”

  “The future!” repeated Silas. “What future is there left for me exceptthe gallows?”

  “Youth is but a cowardly season,” returned the Doctor; “and a man’s owntroubles look blacker than they are. I am old, and yet I never despair.”

  “Can I tell such a story to the police?” demanded Silas.

  “Assuredly not,” replied the Doctor. “From what I see already of themachination in which you have been involved, your case is desperate uponthat side; and for the narrow eye of the authorities you are infalliblythe guilty person. And remember that we only know a portion of the plot;and the same infamous contrivers have doubtless arranged many othercircumstances which would be elicited by a police inquiry, and help tofix the guilt more certainly upon your innocence.”

  “I am then lost, indeed!” cried Silas.

  “I have not said so,” answered Dr. Noel “for I am a cautious man.”

  “But look at this!” objected Silas, pointing to the body. “Here is thisobject in my bed; not to be explained, not to be disposed of, not to beregarded without horror.”

  “Horror?” replied the Doctor. “No. When this sort of clock has rundown, it is no more to me than an ingenious piece of mechanism, to beinvestigated with the bistoury. When blood is once cold and stagnant, itis no longer human blood; when flesh is once dead, it is no longer thatflesh which we desire in our lovers and respect in our friends. Thegrace, the attraction, the terror, have all gone from it with theanimating spirit. Accustom yourself to look upon it with composure; forif my scheme is practicable you will have to live some days in constantproximity to that which now so greatly horrifies you.”

  “Your scheme?” cried Silas. “What is that? Tell me speedily, Doctor;for I have scarcely courage enough to continue to exist.”

  Without replying, Doctor Noel turned towards the bed, and proceeded toexamine the corpse.

  “Quite dead,” he murmured. “Yes, as I had supposed, the pockets empty.Yes, and the name cut off the shirt. Their work has been done thoroughlyand well. Fortunately, he is of small stature.”

  Silas followed these words with an extreme anxiety. At last the Doctor,his autopsy completed, took a chair and addressed the young American witha smile.

  “Since I came into your room,” said he, “although my ears and my tonguehave been so busy, I have not suffered my eyes to remain idle. I noted alittle while ago that you have there, in the corner, one of thosemonstrous constructions which your fellow-countrymen carry with them intoall quarters of the globe—in a word, a Saratoga trunk. Until this momentI have never been able to conceive the utility of these erections; butthen I began to have a glimmer. Whether it was for convenience in theslave trade, or to obviate the results of too ready an employment of thebowie-knife, I cannot bring myself to decide. But one thing I seeplainly—the object of such a box is to contain a human body.

  “Surely,” cried Silas, “surely this is not a time for jesting.”

  “Although I may express myself with some degree of pleasantry,” repliedthe Doctor, “the purport of my words is entirely serious. And the firstthing we have to do, my young friend, is to empty your coffer of all thatit contains.”

  Silas, obeying the authority of Doctor Noel, put himself at hisdisposition. The Saratoga trunk was soon gutted of its contents, whichmade a considerable litter on the floor; and then—Silas taking the heelsand the Doctor supporting the shoulders—the body of the murdered man wascarried from the bed, and, after some difficulty, doubled up and insertedwhole into the empty box. With an effort on the part of both, the lidwas forced down upon this unusual baggage, and the trunk was locked andcorded by the Doctor’s own hand, while Silas disposed of what had beentaken out between the closet and a chest of drawers.

  “Now,” said the Doctor, “the first step has been taken on the way to yourdeliverance. To-morrow, or rather to-day, it must be your task to allaythe suspicions of your porter, paying him all that you owe; while you maytrust me to make the arrangements necessary to a safe conclusion.Meantime, follow me to my room, where I shall give you a safe andpowerful opiate; for, whatever you do, you must have rest.”

  The next day was the longest in Silas’s memory; it seemed as if it wouldnever be done. He denied himself to his friends, and sat in a cornerwith his eyes fixed upon the Saratoga trunk in dismal contemplation. Hisown former indiscretions were now returned upon him in kind; for theobservatory had been once more opened, and he was conscious of an almostcontinual study from Madame Zéphyrine’s apartment. So distressing didthis become, that he was at last obliged to block up the spy-hole fromhis own side; and when he was thus secured from observation he spent aconsiderable portion of his time in contrite tears and prayer.

  Late in the evening Dr. Noel entered the room carrying in his hand a pairof sealed envelopes without address, one somewhat bulky, and the other soslim as to seem without enclosure.

  “Silas,” he said, seating himself at the table, “the time has now comefor me to explain my plan for your salvation. To-morrow morning, at anearly hour, Prince Florizel of Bohemia returns to London, after havingdiverted himself for a few days with the Parisian Carnival. It was myfortune, a good while ago, to do Colonel Geraldine, his Master of theHorse, one of those services, so common in my profession, which are neverforgotten upon either side. I have no need to explain to you the natureof the obligation under which he was laid; suffice it to say that I knewhim ready to serve me in any practicable manner. Now, it was necessaryfor you to gain London with your trunk unopened. To this the CustomHouse seemed to oppose a fatal difficulty; but I bethought me that thebaggage of so considerable a person as the Prince, is, as a matter ofcourtesy, passed without examination by the officers of Custom. Iapplied to Colonel Geraldine, and succeeded in obtaining a favourableanswer. To-morrow, if you go before six to the hotel where the Princelodges, your baggage will be passed over as a part of his, and youyourself will make the journey as a member of his suite.”

  “It seems to me, as you speak, that I have already seen both the Princeand Colonel Geraldine; I even overheard some of their conversation theother evening at the Bullier Ball.”

  “It is probable enough; for the Prince loves to mix with all societies,”replied the Doctor. “Once arrived in London,” he pursued, “your task isnearly ended. In this more bulky envelope I have given you a letterwhich I dare not address; but in the other you will find the designationof the house to which you must carry it along with your box, which willthere be taken from you and not trouble you any more.”

  “Alas!” said Silas, “I have every wish to believe you; but how is itpossible? You open up to me a bright prospect, but, I ask you, is mymind capable of receiving so unlikely a solution? Be more generous, andlet me further understand your meaning.”

  The Doctor seemed painfully impressed.

  “Boy,” he answered, “you do not know how hard a thing you ask of me. Butbe it so. I am now inured to humiliation; and it would be strange if Irefused you this, after having granted you so much. Know, then, thatalthough I now make so quiet an appearance—frugal, solitary, addicted tostudy—when I was younger, my name was once a rallying-cry among the mostastute and dangerous spirits of London; and while I was outwardly anobject for respect and consideration, my true power resided in the mostsecret, terrible, and criminal relations. It is to one of the personswho then obeyed me that I now address myself to deliver you from yourburden. They were men of many different nations and dexterities, allbound together by a formidable oath, and working to the same purposes;the trade of the association was in murder; and I who speak to you,innocent as I appear, was the chieft
ain of this redoubtable crew.”

  “What?” cried Silas. “A murderer? And one with whom murder was a trade?Can I take your hand? Ought I so much as to accept your services? Darkand criminal old man, would you make an accomplice of my youth and mydistress?”

  The Doctor bitterly laughed.

  “You are difficult to please, Mr. Scuddamore,” said he; “but I now offeryou your choice of company between the murdered man and the murderer. Ifyour conscience is too nice to accept my aid, say so, and I willimmediately leave you. Thenceforward you can deal with your trunk andits belongings as best suits your upright conscience.”

  “I own myself wrong,” replied Silas. “I should have remembered howgenerously you offered to shield me, even before I had convinced you ofmy innocence, and I continue to listen to your counsels with gratitude.”

  “That is well,” returned the Doctor; “and I perceive you are beginning tolearn some of the lessons of experience.”

  “At the same time,” resumed the New-Englander, “as you confess yourselfaccustomed to this tragical business, and the people to whom yourecommend me are your own former associates and friends, could you notyourself undertake the transport of the box, and rid me at once of itsdetested presence?”

  “Upon my word,” replied the Doctor, “I admire you cordially. If you donot think I have already meddled sufficiently in your concerns, believeme, from my heart I think the contrary. Take or leave my services as Ioffer them; and trouble me with no more words of gratitude, for I valueyour consideration even more lightly than I do your intellect. A timewill come, if you should be spared to see a number of years in health ofmind, when you will think differently of all this, and blush for yourto-night’s behaviour.”

  So saying, the Doctor arose from his chair, repeated his directionsbriefly and clearly, and departed from the room without permitting Silasany time to answer.

  The next morning Silas presented himself at the hotel, where he waspolitely received by Colonel Geraldine, and relieved, from that moment,of all immediate alarm about his trunk and its grisly contents. Thejourney passed over without much incident, although the young man washorrified to overhear the sailors and railway porters complaining amongthemselves about the unusual weight of the Prince’s baggage. Silastravelled in a carriage with the valets, for Prince Florizel chose to bealone with his Master of the Horse. On board the steamer, however, Silasattracted his Highness’s attention by the melancholy of his air andattitude as he stood gazing at the pile of baggage; for he was still fullof disquietude about the future.

  “There is a young man,” observed the Prince, “who must have some causefor sorrow.”

  “That,” replied Geraldine, “is the American for whom I obtainedpermission to travel with your suite.”

  “You remind me that I have been remiss in courtesy,” said PrinceFlorizel, and advancing to Silas, he addressed him with the mostexquisite condescension in these words:—“I was charmed, young sir, to beable to gratify the desire you made known to me through ColonelGeraldine. Remember, if you please, that I shall be glad at any futuretime to lay you under a more serious obligation.”

  And he then put some questions as to the political condition of America,which Silas answered with sense and propriety.

  “You are still a young man,” said the Prince; “but I observe you to bevery serious for your years. Perhaps you allow your attention to be toomuch occupied with grave studies. But, perhaps, on the other hand, I ammyself indiscreet and touch upon a painful subject.”

  “I have certainly cause to be the most miserable of men,” said Silas;“never has a more innocent person been more dismally abused.”

  “I will not ask you for your confidence,” returned Prince Florizel. “Butdo not forget that Colonel Geraldine’s recommendation is an unfailingpassport; and that I am not only willing, but possibly more able thanmany others, to do you a service.”

  Silas was delighted with the amiability of this great personage; but hismind soon returned upon its gloomy preoccupations; for not even thefavour of a Prince to a Republican can discharge a brooding spirit of itscares.

  The train arrived at Charing Cross, where the officers of the Revenuerespected the baggage of Prince Florizel in the usual manner. The mostelegant equipages were in waiting; and Silas was driven, along with therest, to the Prince’s residence. There Colonel Geraldine sought him out,and expressed himself pleased to have been of any service to a friend ofthe physician’s, for whom he professed a great consideration.

  “I hope,” he added, “that you will find none of your porcelain injured.Special orders were given along the line to deal tenderly with thePrince’s effects.”

  And then, directing the servants to place one of the carriages at theyoung gentleman’s disposal, and at once to charge the Saratoga trunk uponthe dickey, the Colonel shook hands and excused himself on account of hisoccupations in the princely household.

  Silas now broke the seal of the envelope containing the address, anddirected the stately footman to drive him to Box Court, opening off theStrand. It seemed as if the place were not at all unknown to the man,for he looked startled and begged a repetition of the order. It was witha heart full of alarms, that Silas mounted into the luxurious vehicle,and was driven to his destination. The entrance to Box Court was toonarrow for the passage of a coach; it was a mere footway betweenrailings, with a post at either end. On one of these posts was seated aman, who at once jumped down and exchanged a friendly sign with thedriver, while the footman opened the door and inquired of Silas whetherhe should take down the Saratoga trunk, and to what number it should becarried.

  “If you please,” said Silas. “To number three.”

  The footman and the man who had been sitting on the post, even with theaid of Silas himself, had hard work to carry in the trunk; and before itwas deposited at the door of the house in question, the young Americanwas horrified to find a score of loiterers looking on. But he knockedwith as good a countenance as he could muster up, and presented the otherenvelope to him who opened.

  “He is not at home,” said he, “but if you will leave your letter andreturn to-morrow early, I shall be able to inform you whether and when hecan receive your visit. Would you like to leave your box?” he added.

  “Dearly,” cried Silas; and the next moment he repented his precipitation,and declared, with equal emphasis, that he would rather carry the boxalong with him to the hotel.

  The crowd jeered at his indecision and followed him to the carriage withinsulting remarks; and Silas, covered with shame and terror, implored theservants to conduct him to some quiet and comfortable house ofentertainment in the immediate neighbourhood.

  The Prince’s equipage deposited Silas at the Craven Hotel in CravenStreet, and immediately drove away, leaving him alone with the servantsof the inn. The only vacant room, it appeared, was a little den up fourpairs of stairs, and looking towards the back. To this hermitage, withinfinite trouble and complaint, a pair of stout porters carried theSaratoga trunk. It is needless to mention that Silas kept closely attheir heels throughout the ascent, and had his heart in his mouth atevery corner. A single false step, he reflected, and the box might goover the banisters and land its fatal contents, plainly discovered, onthe pavement of the hall.

  Arrived in the room, he sat down on the edge of his bed to recover fromthe agony that he had just endured; but he had hardly taken his positionwhen he was recalled to a sense of his peril by the action of the boots,who had knelt beside the trunk, and was proceeding officiously to undoits elaborate fastenings.

  “Let it be!” cried Silas. “I shall want nothing from it while I stayhere.”

  “You might have let it lie in the hall, then,” growled the man; “a thingas big and heavy as a church. What you have inside I cannot fancy. Ifit is all money, you are a richer man than me.”

  “Money?” repeated Silas, in a sudden perturbation. “What do you mean bymoney? I have no money, and you are speaking like a fool.”

>   “All right, captain,” retorted the boots with a wink. “There’s nobodywill touch your lordship’s money. I’m as safe as the bank,” he added;“but as the box is heavy, I shouldn’t mind drinking something to yourlordship’s health.”

  Silas pressed two Napoleons upon his acceptance, apologising, at the sametime, for being obliged to trouble him with foreign money, and pleadinghis recent arrival for excuse. And the man, grumbling with even greaterfervour, and looking contemptuously from the money in his hand to theSaratoga trunk and back again from the one to the other, at lastconsented to withdraw.

  For nearly two days the dead body had been packed into Silas’s box; andas soon as he was alone the unfortunate New-Englander nosed all thecracks and openings with the most passionate attention. But the weatherwas cool, and the trunk still managed to contain his shocking secret.

  He took a chair beside it, and buried his face in his hands, and his mindin the most profound reflection. If he were not speedily relieved, noquestion but he must be speedily discovered. Alone in a strange city,without friends or accomplices, if the Doctor’s introduction failed him,he was indubitably a lost New-Englander. He reflected pathetically overhis ambitious designs for the future; he should not now become the heroand spokesman of his native place of Bangor, Maine; he should not, as hehad fondly anticipated, move on from office to office, from honour tohonour; he might as well divest himself at once of all hope of beingacclaimed President of the United States, and leaving behind him astatue, in the worst possible style of art, to adorn the Capitol atWashington. Here he was, chained to a dead Englishman doubled up insidea Saratoga trunk; whom he must get rid of, or perish from the rolls ofnational glory!

  I should be afraid to chronicle the language employed by this young manto the Doctor, to the murdered man, to Madame Zéphyrine, to the boots ofthe hotel, to the Prince’s servants, and, in a word, to all who had beenever so remotely connected with his horrible misfortune.

  He slunk down to dinner about seven at night; but the yellow coffee-roomappalled him, the eyes of the other diners seemed to rest on his withsuspicion, and his mind remained upstairs with the Saratoga trunk. Whenthe waiter came to offer him cheese, his nerves were already so much onedge that he leaped half-way out of his chair and upset the remainder ofa pint of ale upon the table-cloth.

  The fellow offered to show him to the smoking-room when he had done; andalthough he would have much preferred to return at once to his periloustreasure, he had not the courage to refuse, and was shown downstairs tothe black, gas-lit cellar, which formed, and possibly still forms, thedivan of the Craven Hotel.

  Two very sad betting men were playing billiards, attended by a moist,consumptive marker; and for the moment Silas imagined that these were theonly occupants of the apartment. But at the next glance his eye fellupon a person smoking in the farthest corner, with lowered eyes and amost respectable and modest aspect. He knew at once that he had seen theface before; and, in spite of the entire change of clothes, recognisedthe man whom he had found seated on a post at the entrance to Box Court,and who had helped him to carry the trunk to and from the carriage. TheNew-Englander simply turned and ran, nor did he pause until he had lockedand bolted himself into his bedroom.

  There, all night long, a prey to the most terrible imaginations, hewatched beside the fatal boxful of dead flesh. The suggestion of theboots that his trunk was full of gold inspired him with all manner of newterrors, if he so much as dared to close an eye; and the presence in thesmoking-room, and under an obvious disguise, of the loiterer from BoxCourt convinced him that he was once more the centre of obscuremachinations.

  Midnight had sounded some time, when, impelled by uneasy suspicions,Silas opened his bedroom door and peered into the passage. It was dimlyilluminated by a single jet of gas; and some distance off he perceived aman sleeping on the floor in the costume of an hotel under-servant.Silas drew near the man on tiptoe. He lay partly on his back, partly onhis side, and his right forearm concealed his face from recognition.Suddenly, while the American was still bending over him, the sleeperremoved his arm and opened his eyes, and Silas found himself once moreface to face with the loiterer of Box Court.

  “Good-night, sir,” said the man, pleasantly.

  But Silas was too profoundly moved to find an answer, and regained hisroom in silence.

  Towards morning, worn out by apprehension, he fell asleep on his chair,with his head forward on the trunk. In spite of so constrained anattitude and such a grisly pillow, his slumber was sound and prolonged,and he was only awakened at a late hour and by a sharp tapping at thedoor.

  He hurried to open, and found the boots without.

  “You are the gentleman who called yesterday at Box Court?” he asked.

  Silas, with a quaver, admitted that he had done so.

  “Then this note is for you,” added the servant, proffering a sealedenvelope.

  Silas tore it open, and found inside the words: “Twelve o’clock.”

  He was punctual to the hour; the trunk was carried before him by severalstout servants; and he was himself ushered into a room, where a man satwarming himself before the fire with his back towards the door. Thesound of so many persons entering and leaving, and the scraping of thetrunk as it was deposited upon the bare boards, were alike unable toattract the notice of the occupant; and Silas stood waiting, in an agonyof fear, until he should deign to recognise his presence.

  Perhaps five minutes had elapsed before the man turned leisurely about,and disclosed the features of Prince Florizel of Bohemia.

  “So, sir,” he said, with great severity, “this is the manner in which youabuse my politeness. You join yourselves to persons of condition, Iperceive, for no other purpose than to escape the consequences of yourcrimes; and I can readily understand your embarrassment when I addressedmyself to you yesterday.”

  “Indeed,” cried Silas, “I am innocent of everything except misfortune.”

  And in a hurried voice, and with the greatest ingenuousness, he recountedto the Prince the whole history of his calamity.

  “I see I have been mistaken,” said his Highness, when he had heard him toan end. “You are no other than a victim, and since I am not to punishyou may be sure I shall do my utmost to help. And now,” he continued,“to business. Open your box at once, and let me see what it contains.”

  Silas changed colour.

  “I almost fear to look upon it,” he exclaimed.

  “Nay,” replied the Prince, “have you not looked at it already? This is aform of sentimentality to be resisted. The sight of a sick man, whom wecan still help, should appeal more directly to the feelings than that ofa dead man who is equally beyond help or harm, love or hatred. Nerveyourself, Mr. Scuddamore,” and then, seeing that Silas still hesitated,“I do not desire to give another name to my request,” he added.

  The young American awoke as if out of a dream, and with a shiver ofrepugnance addressed himself to loose the straps and open the lock of theSaratoga trunk. The Prince stood by, watching with a composedcountenance and his hands behind his back. The body was quite stiff, andit cost Silas a great effort, both moral and physical, to dislodge itfrom its position, and discover the face.

  Prince Florizel started back with an exclamation of painful surprise.

  “Alas!” he cried, “you little know, Mr. Scuddamore, what a cruel gift youhave brought me. This is a young man of my own suite, the brother of mytrusted friend; and it was upon matters of my own service that he hasthus perished at the hands of violent and treacherous men. PoorGeraldine,” he went on, as if to himself, “in what words am I to tell youof your brother’s fate? How can I excuse myself in your eyes, or in theeyes of God, for the presumptuous schemes that led him to this bloody andunnatural death? Ah, Florizel! Florizel! when will you learn thediscretion that suits mortal life, and be no longer dazzled with theimage of power at your disposal? Power!” he cried; “who is morepowerless? I look upon this young man whom I have sacrificed, Mr.Scuddamore, an
d feel how small a thing it is to be a Prince.”

  Silas was moved at the sight of his emotion. He tried to murmur someconsolatory words, and burst into tears.

  The Prince, touched by his obvious intention, came up to him and took himby the hand.

  “Command yourself,” said he. “We have both much to learn, and we shallboth be better men for to-day’s meeting.”

  Silas thanked him in silence with an affectionate look.

  “Write me the address of Doctor Noel on this piece of paper,” continuedthe Prince, leading him towards the table; “and let me recommend you,when you are again in Paris, to avoid the society of that dangerous man.He has acted in this matter on a generous inspiration; that I mustbelieve; had he been privy to young Geraldine’s death he would never havedespatched the body to the care of the actual criminal.”

  “The actual criminal!” repeated Silas in astonishment.

  “Even so,” returned the Prince. “This letter, which the disposition ofAlmighty Providence has so strangely delivered into my hands, wasaddressed to no less a person than the criminal himself, the infamousPresident of the Suicide Club. Seek to pry no further in these perilousaffairs, but content yourself with your own miraculous escape, and leavethis house at once. I have pressing affairs, and must arrange at onceabout this poor clay, which was so lately a gallant and handsome youth.”

  Silas took a grateful and submissive leave of Prince Florizel, but helingered in Box Court until he saw him depart in a splendid carriage on avisit to Colonel Henderson of the police. Republican as he was, theyoung American took off his hat with almost a sentiment of devotion tothe retreating carriage. And the same night he started by rail on hisreturn to Paris.

  * * * * *

  _Here_ (observes my Arabian author) _is the end of_ THE HISTORY OF THEPHYSICIAN AND THE SARATOGA TRUNK. _Omitting some reflections on thepower of Providence_, _highly pertinent in the original_, _but littlesuited to our occiddental taste_, _I shall only add that Mr. Scuddamorehas already begun to mount the ladder of political fame_, _and by lastadvices was the Sheriff of his native town_.