"He turns in his saddle with a savage oath--he glares like the hungry wolf.
""What"s that, you jabbering idiot!" he roars, in his brutal way.
""Captain Brand and Monsieur Mortlake seem like as twin dogs," I reply; "you might change names with our haughty captain, and no one be the wiser, save that he has the _bel air_ which you want--the polish, the courtesy, which those of the mob can never learn."
""Curse him! I have as good blood in my veins as he has any day!" hisses the furious voice of my envious Mortlake.
"Then he turns sour and silent, and is very poor company. I sing _chansonettes_ to the moon; I whistle operas; I talk to my horse; he takes no notice; I rally him upon his temper, and he swears madly at me.
"So I light my cigar and smoke for company until we reach the great Castle Brand, which towers like a vast cathedral under the moon.
"Mademoiselle, a magnificent statue waits him at the door. Mademoiselle remembers the interview. Enough! My tripping tongue need not rehea.r.s.e the scene.
"Back comes Monsieur Mortlake, devil-possessed, and overwhelms me with a terrible curse.
"I laugh at his slow-stepping wit.
"I have seen a pretty possibility for monsieur, even while mademoiselle is speaking.
""Stupid Englishman!" I cry, as we ride across the Waaste, "don"t you see that you might get this fine English castle and estate to yourself some day, if you could personate brave Captain Brand?"
"My romantic fancy is captivated by this little scheme. I go on amusing myself by describing how it might be done. I give you my word, mademoiselle, that it is all in jest--a freak of imagination nothing more.
"My sour comrade listens with a serpent"s guile; his clever brain is twisting a rope out of my threads of fiction; he catches my bagatelle, and transforms it into a plot--the plot which would have proved successful but for Marguerite, the heroic.
"_Eh bien_, to continue:
"We ride away to the hotel at Regis that night, and monsieur had a little interview with Captain Brand, and tells him the message which Mademoiselle Walsingham has sent to him. Then is the captain furious, and impatient, and self-reproachful for his cold-blooded neglect of the poor fond grandmama, and he gallops off to the old castle on the wings of the wind, and is too late, and remains moping at the castle, seeing n.o.body but red-eyed Chetwode, for the magnificent Mademoiselle Walsingham has locked herself within her room and will not see him.
"My careful Mortlake gathers all this from the footmen and servants from the castle, and makes envious remarks upon the dog that has, and wants it not, and the dog that wants, and has it not.
"In the evening of that day on which Madame Brand is interred, Monsieur le Capitaine comes back to Regis choking with rage. Monsieur Mortlake offers congratulations, and hears the whole of the will from our angry captain, who utters a scornful fanfaronade against the brave Mademoiselle Walsingham. Cries royally:
""I won"t interfere with the companion--she"s free for me; I"ll get out of England as fast as I can, and try my luck abroad."
""Try the United States," insinuates M. Mortlake.
""Good! and join the army," says our captain, with a war-glance which sweeps the horizon and sees coming fame, "and win glory, since I am stripped of my fortune."
""Will you go, then?" pursues Monsieur Mortlake.
""I"ll think of it," says Captain Brand.
"And he does think of it, and to such purpose that in an hour he has left Regis and is posting back to London.
"Monsieur Mortlake comes to me and tells me all this.
""Calembours, I have a job for you," says my friend. His language is never refined. _Ouf!_ how can it be? But I laugh, amused, and I applaud, for my perception is swifter than Monsieur"s tongue; it has skipped on a mile of the plan, and turned to meet the tardy wit of my Mortlake.
""So be it," I cry, with smiles. "You want me to put you in those cavalry boots of Captain Brand, that you may win his castle and his Marguerite."
"To my surprise my friend writhes with anger--half chokes over this:
""His castle and his Marguerite? Hang him! I have a better right than he to them."
"And becomes immediately mysterious, close as a mute.
"When we reach London, and find that Monsieur le Capitaine is really selling his commission in the Guards, and going to America, my Mortlake reveals his well-considered plot to me.
""Calembours, you are such a plausible rogue," says my coa.r.s.e friend, "that you might be a great help to me in the plan I"ve thought of."
""Dear friend, you flatter me," I, smiling, reply. "Command me."
""This fellow is in love with some woman of rank here in London,"
pursues my Mortlake. "I can"t find out her name, he"s such a proud fellow; but that"s the reason why he throws off the woman at Castle Brand and forswears the fortune. Now, d"ye see, Calembours, how we can turn his tomfoolery to account?"
"I bow; I am interested, but not admiring.
"He can go off to the war, and somebody can go off with him, to keep an eye on him that he doesn"t balk, and to worm himself into all the fellow"s secrets and past history. Somebody gentlemanly and taking, and with plenty of confounded jabber about "em. You"d do first rate, Calembours."
""So flattered," I smile. "The good opinion of my dear M. Mortlake is so consoling."
""You could creep round him so nicely," observed my friend; "you could get anything you liked out of him, you"ve got such an innocent look, you dog; while I can"t become the polished gentleman without practice, fact being that I"ve forgotten the talk. I was once as swell as any of "em--was in the army, bedad! an artillery officer; but luck changed, curse it! and my company wasn"t so high-flying, though we were a jolly pack for all that, especially after the day"s duties were over."
""Was monsieur a soldier or a knight of the pen?" I ask.
"He shows his long teeth in a snarling smile.
""I was in a government office--served my country," he replies; "and, getting home on furlough, I might as well feather my nest while I have a chance, and then slip the cable on "em. Pay isn"t very good there, nor victuals very plenty."
""Eh! prison fare?" I ask, scenting the jest.
"He scowls like an ogre at me.
""You"re a fool!" he growls. "No; I was a Road Commissioner. Come, now, will you go with Brand, and win some cool thousands by the speculation?"
""What are my duties?" I cautiously reply.
""To keep close by him through all his windings, until--"
"My Mortlake stops.
""Until?" I venture.
""Until the dog is killed," whispers monsieur.
"I start back--I wave the vile insinuation from me.
""_Pardieu!_" I scream; "I am _chevalier d"honneur_! I pride myself upon my ill.u.s.trious reputation. Monsieur must seek another colleague."