The Complete Short Stories of Wilkie Collins. Уилки Коллинз

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СКАЧАТЬ very huskily and hastily, ‘we are only in the way here; let us leave them together!’

      ‘Quite right, sir,’ observed the doctor; ‘that pretty little girl is the only medical attendant fit to be with him now! I wait for you, Mr Colebatch!’

      ‘I say, young fellow,’ said the Squire to the carpenter, as they went down stairs, ‘be in the way tomorrow morning: I’ve a good deal to ask you in private when I’m not all over in a twitter, as I am at present. Now our good old friend’s getting round, my curiosity’s getting round too. Be in the way tomorrow, at ten, when I come here. Quite ready, doctor! No! after you, if you please. Ah, thank God! we came into this house mourners, and we go out of it to rejoice. It will be a happy Christmas, doctor, and a merry New Year, after all!’

       X

      When ten o’clock came, the Squire came — punctual to a minute. Instead of going up stairs, he mysteriously sent for the carpenter into the back parlour.

      ‘Now, in the first place, how is Mr Wray?’ — said the old gentleman, as anxiously as if he had not already sent three times the night before, and twice earlier in the morning, to ask that very question.

      ‘Lord bless you, sir!’ — answered the carpenter with a grin, and a very expressive rubbing of the hands — ’He’s coming to again, after his nice sleep last night, as brave as ever. He’s dreadful weak still, to be sure; but he’s got like himself again, already. He’s been down on me twice in the last half hour, sir, about my elocution; he’s making Annie read Shakespeare to him; and he’s asking whether any new pupils are coming — all just in the old way again. Oh, sir, it is so jolly to see him like that once more — if you’ll only come up stairs — ’

      ‘Stop, till we’ve had our talk’ — said the Squire — ’sit down. By the bye! has he said anything yet about that infernal cash box?’

      ‘I picked the lock of the box this morning, sir, as the gentleman told me; and buried every bit of plaster out of it, deep in the kitchen garden. He saw the box afterwards, and gave a tremble, like. “Take it away,” says he, “never let me see it again: it reminds me of that dreadful dream.” And then, sir, he told us about what had happened, just as if he really had dreamt it; saying he couldn’t get the subject quite out of his head, the whole thing was so much as if it had truly taken place. Afterwards, sir, he thanked me for making the new box for the cast — he remembered my promising to do that, though it was only just before all our trouble!’

      ‘And of course, you humour him in everything, and let him think he’s right?’ — said the Squire — ’He must never know that he hasn’t been dreaming, to his dying day.’

      And he never did know it — never, in this world, had even a suspicion of what he owed to Annie! It was but little matter; they could not have loved each other better, if he had discovered everything.

      ‘Now, master carpenter,’ pursued the Squire, ‘you’ve answered very nicely hitherto. Just answer as nicely the next question I ask. What’s the whole history of this mysterious plaster cast? It’s no use fidgeting! I’ve seen the cast; I know it’s a portrait of Shakespeare! and I’ve made up my mind to find out all about it. Do you mean to say you think I’m not a friend fit to be trusted? Eh, you sir?’

      ‘I never could think so, after all your goodness, sir. But, if you please, I really did promise to keep the thing a secret,’ said the carpenter, looking very much as if he were watching his opportunity to open the door, and run out of the room; ‘I promised, sir; I did, indeed!’

      ‘Promised a fiddlestick!’ exclaimed the Squire, in a passion. ‘What’s the use of keeping a secret that’s half let out already? I’ll tell you what, you Mr — , what’s your name? There’s some joke about calling you Julius Caesar. What’s your real name, if you really have one?’

      ‘Martin Blunt, sir. But don’t, pray don’t ask me to tell the secret! I don’t say you would blab it, sir; but if it did leak out, like; and get to Stratford-upon-Avon,’ — here he suddenly became silent, feeling he was beginning to commit himself already.

      ‘Stop! I’ve got it!’ cried Mr Colebatch. ‘Hang me, if I haven’t got it at last!’

      ‘Don’t tell me, sir! Pray don’t tell me, if you have!’

      ‘Stick to your chair, Mr Martin Blunt! No shirking with me! I was a fool not to suspect the thing, the moment I saw it was a portrait of Shakespeare. I’ve seen the Stratford bust, Master Blunt! You’re afraid of Stratford, are you? — Why? I know! Some of you have been taking that cast from the Stratford bust, without leave — it’s as like it, as two peas! Now, young fellow, I’ll tell you what! if you don’t make a clean breast to me at once, I’m off to the office of the ‘Tidbury Mercury’, to put in my version of the whole thing, as a good local anecdote! Will you tell me? or will you not? — I’m asking this in Mr Wray’s interests, or I’d die before I asked you at all!’

      Confused, threatened, bullied, bawled at, and outmanoeuvred, the unfortunate carpenter fairly gave way. ‘If it’s wrong in me to tell you, sir, it’s your fault what I do,’ said the simple fellow; and he forthwith retailed, in a very roundabout, stammering manner, the whole of the disclosure he had heard from old Reuben — the Squire occasionally throwing in an explosive interjection of astonishment, or admiration; but, otherwise, receiving the narrative with remarkable calmness and attention.

      ‘What the deuce is all this nonsense about the Stratford Town Council, and the penalties of the law?’ — cried Mr Colebatch, when the carpenter had done — ’But never mind; we can come to that afterwards. Now tell me about going back to get the mould out of the cupboard, and making the new cast. I know who did it! It’s that dear, darling, incomparable little girl! — but tell me all about it — come! quick, quick! — don’t keep me waiting!’

      ‘Julius Caesar’ got on with his second narrative much more glibly than with the first. How Annie had suddenly remembered, one night, in her bedroom, about the mould having been left behind — how she was determined to try and restore her grandfather’s health and faculties, by going to seek it; and how he (the carpenter), had gone also, to protect her — how they got to Stratford, by the coach (outside places, in the cold, to save money) — how Annie appealed to the mercy of their former landlord; and instead of inventing some falsehood to deceive him, fairly told her whole story in all its truth — how the landlord pitied them, and promised to keep their secret — how they went up into the bedroom, and found the mould in the old canvas bag, behind the volumes of the Annual Register, just where Mr Wray had left it — how Annie, remembering what her grandfather had told her, about the process of making a cast, bought plaster, and followed out her instructions; failing in the first attempt, but admirably succeeding in the second — how they were obliged, in frightful suspense, to wait till the third day for the return coach; and how they finally got back, safe and sound, not only with the new cast, but with the mould as well. — All these particulars flowed from the carpenter’s lips, in a strain of homely eloquence, which no elocutionary aid could have furnished with one atom of additional effect, that would have done it any good whatever.

      ‘We’d no notion, sir,’ said ‘Julius Caesar’, in conclusion, ‘that poor Mr Wray was so bad as he really was, when we went away. It was a dreadful trial to Annie, sir, to go. She went down on her knees to the landlady — I saw her do it, half wild, like; she was in such a state — she went down on her knees, sir, to ask the woman to be as a daughter to the old man, till she came back. Well, sir, even after that, it was a toss-up whether she went away, when the morning came. But she was obliged to do it. She durstn’t trust me to go alone, for fear I should let the mould tumble down, when I got it (which I’m afraid, СКАЧАТЬ