"Are you at leisure? I"ll go with you this afternoon, if you like, and call on him."
"I dare say my visit would bore him."
"Get him upon the races in the Austrian empire, and he will be more apt to bore you. Are you free at four o"clock?" pursued Vinal, looking at his watch.
"Yes, quite so."
"Very well. I"m going now to my tailor"s. Every genuine American, you know, must have a new fit-out in Paris. I"ll meet you at Meurice"s at four, and we"ll go from there to Speyer"s."
Vinal had three quarters of an hour to spare. He spent a part of them in forging the next link of his chain. At four he rejoined Morton, and they walked out together.
"I think you"ll like Professor Speyer," said Vinal. "I have become quite intimate with him, on the strength of a fortnight"s acquaintance. He urges me to go to Hungary and Transylvania, and offered me introductions to his friends there. It would not be a bad plan for you to ask him for letters. They would not make you acquainted with the Austrian _haut ton_, but they would bring you into contact with men of his own stamp,--people of knowledge and intelligence, who could be of great service to you, and with whom you needn"t be on terms of much ceremony.--Here"s the place;--he lives here."
It was a lodging house on the Rue Rivoli. Vinal rang the bell. The porter appeared.
"Is Professor Speyer at home?"
"_Non, monsieur; il est sorti._"
Vinal had just bribed the man to give this answer.
"That"s unlucky," he said. "Well, if you like, we can come again this evening."
"I am engaged to dine this evening at Madame ----"s."
Vinal had known of this engagement.
"I don"t see, then, but that you will lose your chance with Speyer.
Well, _fortune de guerre_. I should like to have had you see him, though."
And they walked towards the Boulevards, conversing on indifferent matters.
CHAPTER x.x.xIII.
Whose nature is so far from doing evil That he suspects none; on whose foolish honesty My practices ride easy.--_King Lear_.
Early the next morning, Morton was writing in his room, when Vinal came in.
"Are you still bent on going off to-day?"
"Yes, within an hour."
"I was pa.s.sing last evening by Professor Speyer"s lodgings, and, seeing a light at his window, went in. I told him that I had come to find him in the afternoon with an old acquaintance of mine, who was going to the Austrian provinces, and that I had advised you to ask introductions from him to his friends there. He was a good deal interested, as I knew he would be, in what I told him about the objects of your journey. "I"m very sorry," he said, "that I did not see your friend, for I could have given him letters which I don"t doubt would have been of great use to him. But wait a few minutes,"
said he, "and I"ll write a few lines now." Here they are," continued Vinal, giving to Morton four or five notes of introduction. "You can put them in your pocket, and use them or not, as you may find convenient."
"I"m very much obliged to you," said Morton. "Tell Professor Speyer that I am greatly indebted to his kindness, and shall be happy to avail myself of it. You are looking very pale; are you ill?"
"No, not at all," stammered Vinal, "but, what is nearly as bad, I have been kept awake all night with a raging toothache."
He had been awake all night, but not with toothache.
"There is one consolation for that trouble; cold steel will cure it."
"Yes, but the remedy is none of the pleasantest. I won"t interrupt you any longer. Good by. I wish you a pleasant journey."
He shook hands with Morton, and, pressing his haggard cheek, as if to stifle the pain, left the room.
With a new letter from Edith Leslie before him, Morton saw the world in rose tint. Happiness blinded him, and he was in no mood to doubt of human nature. He blamed himself for his harsh opinions of Vinal.
"It"s very generous of him to interest himself at this time, in my affairs. "Tis my nature"s plague to spy into abuses." I have misjudged him. He is a better fellow than I ever took him for."
The notes were written in a peculiarly neat, small hand, and bore the signature of Henry Speyer. They all spoke of Morton as interested in a common object with the person addressed; but, with this exception, there was nothing in them which drew his attention, especially as they were in German, a language with which he was not very familiar. As for the circ.u.mstance of their having been given at all to a person whom the writer had never seen, Morton accounted for it on the score of the good natured professor"s desire to oblige his valued friend Vinal.
CHAPTER x.x.xIV.
Things bad begun make strong themselves by ill.--_Macbeth_.
The requisites of a successful villain are manifold. The toughened conscience, the ready wit, the sage experience, the mind tutored, like Iago, in all qualities of human dealing,--all these, in some reasonable measure, Vinal had; but he miserably lacked the vulgar, but no less needful requisite of a sound bodily fibre to support the workings of his brain. His mind was a good lever with a feeble fulcrum; a gun mounted on a tottering rampart. When every breath of emotion that touches the fine-strung organism quivers along the electric chord to the brain, kindling there strange perturbations, then philosophy must lower her tone, and stoicism itself must soon confess that its only resource is to avoid the enemy with whom it cannot cope. Vinal was but ill fitted to act the part he had undertaken. The excitements of villany were too much for him. Peace of mind was as needful to him as food and drink. He had been battling all his life against what he imagined to be a defect of his mental forces, but which had, in the main, no deeper root than in the sensitiveness of his bodily const.i.tution. In prudence and common sense, he was bound to seek asylum in that blissful serenity, that benignant calm, said to be the unfailing attendant on piety and good works. Never did Nature give a sharper hint than she gave to Vinal to eschew evil courses, and leaving rascality to tougher nerves, to tread the placid paths of virtue and discretion. Vinal saw fit to disregard the hint, and the consequences became somewhat grievous.
While his intrigue was in progress, his nerves had given him no great trouble. Hate and jealousy absorbed him. He was steadfast in his purpose to get rid of his rival. But now that the mine was laid, and the match lighted, a change began to come upon him. It was his maiden felony; his first _debut_ in the distinct character of a scoundrel; and, though his conscience was none of the liveliest, it sufficed to visit him with some qualms. Anxieties, doubts, fears, began to prey upon him; sleep failed him; his nerves were set more and more on edge; in short, body and mind, mutually acting on each other, were fast bringing him to a state quite adverse to the maxims of his philosophy.
When a soph.o.m.ore in college, his favorite reading had been Foster"s Essay on Decision of Character, and he had aspired to realize in his own person the type of character therein set forth; the man of steel, who, in his firm march towards his ends, knows neither doubts, nor waverings, nor relentings. Of this ideal he was now falling lamentably short; and as, at two o"clock in the morning, he rose from his restless bed, and paced his chamber to and fro, vainly upbraiding his weakness, and struggling to reason down the rebellious vibration of his nerves, he was any thing but the inexorable hero of his boyish fancy.
"The thing is done,"--so he communed with himself,--"it was deliberately done, and well done. That hound is chained and muzzled, or will be so soon. For a time, at least, he is out of my path. But is he? What if he should escape the trap? What if those men to whom I have sent him are less an abomination in the eyes of the government than there is reason to think them? No doubt he will be compromised; no doubt he will get into difficulty; but if he should get out again!
if, within a year from this he should come home to charge me with trapanning him! Pshaw! he could prove nothing. He would be thought malicious if he accused me. But he may suspect!" and this idea sufficed to fill his excited mind with fresh agitation. For three nights he had been without sleep; and now his irritable system was wrought almost to the point of fever.
"Half measures are nothing! The nail must be driven home and clinched!
I must make sure of him." And early in the morning he went to find Speyer.
Speyer was not to be found. In his eagerness, he went again and again to seek him, though he knew that there was risk in doing so. At length he succeeded; and in spite of his resolute and long-practised self-control, his confederate saw at a glance, in his shining eye, flushed cheek, and the nervous compression of his lips, that he was under a great, though a painfully repressed excitement.
"Well, monsieur, do you hear any thing from your friend?"
"No, it is not time to hear."
"You will have to wait a long while before the time comes."
"Your letters were very well so far as they go; but the thing should be done thoroughly. What I wish you to do is this. Write to him a letter, implicating him in your revolutionary plot. He will be under suspicion. Every letter sent to him will be stopped and opened by the police."
"If that is done, I will warrant you quit of him; at least for some years to come."