Part 84 (1/2)
”How does it concern me, indeed! how grand we are! How does it concern my nephew, I wonder? How does it concern my nephew's seat in Parlyment: and to subornation of bigamy? How does it concern that? What, are you to be the only man to have a secret, and to trade on it? Why shouldn't I go halves, Major Pendennis? I've found it out too. Look here! I ain't goin'
to be unreasonable with you. Make it worth my while, and I'll keep the thing close. Let Mr. Arthur take his seat, and his rich wife, if you like; I don't want to marry her. But I will have my share, as sure as my name's James Morgan. And if I don't----”
”And if you don't, sir--what?” Pendennis asked.
”If I don't, I split, and tell all. I smash Clavering, and have him and his wife up for bigamy--so help me, I will! I smash young Hopeful's marriage, and I show up you and him as makin' use of this secret, in order to squeeze a seat in Parlyment out of Sir Francis, and a fortune out of his wife.”
”Mr. Pendennis knows no more of this business than the babe unborn, sir,” cried the Major, aghast. ”No more than Lady Clavering, than Miss Amory does.”
”Tell that to the marines, Major,” replied the valet; ”that c.o.c.k won't fight with me.”
”Do you doubt my word, you villain?”
”No bad language. I don't care one twopence'a'p'ny whether your word's true or not. I tell you, I intend this to be a nice little annuity to me, Major: for I have every one of you; and I ain't such a fool as to let you go. I should say that you might make it five hundred a year to me among you, easy. Pay me down the first quarter now and I'm as mum as a mouse. Just give a note for one twenty-five. There's your cheque-book on your desk.”
”And there's this too, you villain,” cried the old gentleman. In the desk to which the valet pointed was a little double-barrelled pistol, which had belonged to Pendennis's old patron; the Indian commander-in-chief, and which had accompanied him in many a campaign.
”One more word, you scoundrel and I'll shoot you, like a mad dog.
Stop--by Jove, I'll do it now. You'll a.s.sault me, will you? You'll strike at an old man, will you, you lying coward? Kneel down and say your prayers, sir, for by the Lord you shall die.”
The Major's face glared with rage at his adversary, who looked terrified before him for a moment, and at the next, with a shriek of ”Murder!”
sprang towards the open window, under which a policeman happened to be on his beat. ”Murder! Police!” bellowed Mr. Morgan.
To his surprise, Major Pendennis wheeled away the table and walked to the other window, which was also open. He beckoned the policeman. ”Come up here, policeman,” he said, and then went and placed himself against the door.
”You miserable sneak,” he said to Morgan; ”the pistol hasn't been loaded these fifteen years, as you would have known very well, if you had not been such a coward. That policeman is coming, and I will have him up, and have your trunks searched; I have reason to believe that you are a thief, sir. I know you are. I'll swear to the things.”
”You gave 'em to me--you gave 'em to me!” cried Morgan.
The Major laughed. ”We'll see,” he said; and the guilty valet remembered some fine lawn-fronted s.h.i.+rts--a certain gold-headed cane--an opera-gla.s.s, which he had forgotten to bring down, and of which he had a.s.sumed the use along with certain articles of his master's clothes, which the old dandy neither wore nor asked for.
Policeman X entered; followed by the seared Mrs. Brixham and her maid-of-all-work, who had been at the door and found some difficulty in closing it against the street amateurs, who wished to see the row. The Major began instantly to speak.
”I have had occasion to discharge this drunken scoundrel,” he said.
”Both last night and this morning he insulted and a.s.saulted me. I am an old man and took up a pistol. You see it is not loaded, and this coward cried out before he was hurt. I am glad you are come. I was charging him with taking my property, and desired to examine his trunks and his room.”
”The velvet cloak you ain't worn these three years, nor the weskits, and I thought I might take the s.h.i.+rts, and I--I take my hoath I intended to put back the hopera-gla.s.s,” roared Morgan, writhing with rage and terror.
”The man acknowledges that he is a thief,” the Major said, calmly. ”He has been in my service for years, and I have treated him with every kindness and confidence. We will go upstairs and examine his trunks.”
In those trunks Mr. Morgan had things which he would fain keep from public eyes. Mr. Morgan, the bill-discounter, gave goods as well as money to his customers. He provided young spendthrifts with snuff boxes and pins and jewels and pictures and cigars, and of a very doubtful quality those cigars and jewels and pictures were. Their display at a police-office, the discovery of his occult profession, and the exposure of the Major's property, which he had appropriated, indeed, rather than stolen,--would not have added to the reputation of Mr. Morgan. He looked a piteous image of terror and discomfiture.
”He'll smash me, will he?” thought the Major. ”I'll crush him now, and finish with him.”
But he paused. He looked at poor Mrs. Brixham's scared face; and he thought for a moment to himself that the man brought to bay and in prison might make disclosures which had best be kept secret, and that it was best not to deal too fiercely with a desperate man.
”Stop,” he said, ”policeman. I'll speak with this man by himself.”
”Do you give Mr. Morgan in charge?” said the policeman.
”I have brought no charge as yet,” the Major said, with a significant look at his man.