Joseph Wilmot, or, The Memoirs of a Man-Servant — page 108: what you’re looking at

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JOSEPH WILMOT; OR, THE MEMOIRS OF A MAN-SERVANT. 95 for it is necessary that we should havea few words |own money to procure the emancipation of the together.” “Yes,” I replied: for I was anxious to learn what he had to say to me, and whether it were in respect to the incidents at Pistoja as well as those at the banditti’s stronghold. The waiter conducted us to a private sitting- room: I took achair with a calmness which was intended to convince Mr. Lanover that I no longer shuddered and trembled in his presence as some time back I had been wont to do;—and he seated himself opposite to me. His countenance, always so revolting, was now more than ever hideous with the traces of a recent and very severe illness: I observed too that he was much emaciated, and that his garments hung loosely upon his ungainly, stunted, and deformed person. For upwards of a minute he surveyed me with his horrible eyes whence Satan himself appeared to be looking forth; and gradually as his lips wreathed them- selves into a sardonic sneer, he said, “ And so the young man who makes such a parade of his virtue, condescends to the meanest pilfering >” * Now, understand me well, Mr. Lanover!” I answered, slowly rising from my seat, and ad- vancing round the table close up to him: “if you dare address me in such terms, I will inflict upon you a chastisement that shall go far towards abridging your detestable existence.” “The immaculate Joseph Wilmot,” replied the humpback, wincing only for a moment, and then again sneering with a horrible sardonism, “ would not, according to his own very words, hesitate at murder.” “ By heaven,” I exclaimed, “there were little sin, methinks, in ridding the world cf such as you!”—and [I could scarcely restrain my indigna- tion. “If a wild beast were known to be prowl- ing about, ready to pounce upon any one whom he thought fit to make his victim,—all honour would be due to the man who should hunt down and destroy him. If it were known that a mon- strous serpent lay coiled in a thicket, prepared to Spring upon some innocent being, — immense would be the merit of him who should deal death to that snake. You, Mr. Lanover, are the wild beast—yow are the hideous reptile ; and by heaven! there is no doom however terrible that you do not deserve !” “It is very easy, Joseph Wilmot,” answered the humpback, who for 2 moment had become per- fectly livid with rage, “to use strong and abusive language like this. But what if I were to give you into custody for pilfering a bank-bill from my pocket-book when I lay stretched upon a bed of unconsciousness at Pistoja ?” * And what,” I exclaimed, “if I were to hand over to the authorities an individual, who, while living under the laws of the Tuscan Government, is allied with outlawed banditti? Now, Mr. Lan- over,’ I continued, “how shall it be? Will you give me into custody ? or shall I give you?” “You know very well, Joseph,” he answered, with a malicious grin, “ that there will be no such thing as giving into custody at all.” “T know perfectly well,” I rejomed, “ that you will not dare use provocation towards me: for what tribunal, whether that of justice or of public opinion, would not at once acquit me of any il- legal or dishonourable act in haying used your - victims of your own treachery ?” “ And if I dare not give you into custody,” an- swered Lanover, accentuating the words with his disagreeable jarring voice, “neither will you so far incur my yengeance.” “ And wherefore not ?” I demanded. * Because, if you did,” he responded, with a diabolic expression of countenance, “I should write to Sir Matthew Heseltine, and to Annabel, and to her mother, mentioning certain little inci- dents wherein the name of Calanthe Dundas would fizure.” My feelings had been so excited during this in- terview in the private room, that I had forgotten how much I was in the miscreant’s power in that one fatal respect,—although during the six or seven weeks which had elapsed since the incidents at Pistoja, I had more than once had misgivings on the very point he had just specified. But not choosing to betray how much I dreaded him on that ground, I said with an assumed air of cool indifference, “ Perhaps you have written already to Sir Matthew Heseltine, to Annabel, and her mother P” “No—I have not,’ responded the humpback. * Of course I am well aware,” he added, with an- other sneer, “that you will believe nothing I ad- vance, unless I prove its truth by assigning reasons and motives: I will therefore tell you why I have hitherto abstained from wreaking ven- geance upon you for your conduct towards me at Pistoja, and for the frustration of my projects with regard to Sir Matthew.” “ Proceed,” I said. “Of course I had no difficulty, when regaining my consciousness,’ he resumed, “in comprehend- ing, from the description given, who was the pil- ferer of the bank-bill from my pocket-book; and as soon as I was able to travel, I repaired to Marco Uberti’s head-quarters. There I learnt what had occurred; and again I had no difficulty in understanding that the tall slender young Eng- lishman, with the dark complexion, the whiskers, and the moustache, was your own delectable self in disguise. By the bye, how you obtained your knowledge of the pass-word is a matter which has so far excited my curiosity, that now the whole affair is over, you may perhaps be good enough to gratify it?” “Waste not time with such trifles!” I said: and then, as an idea struck me, I added, “ What if when you were in a state of unconsciousness, but just able to breathe a few incoherent words, you kept muttering Habiano?—and what if I caught it up as the very word which I most wanted to learn >” I spoke thus, because methought that if Lan- over should again happen to see the banditti, he might just as well give an explanation which, appearing natural enough, would serve to avert all possible suspicion from Volterra, if any had in- deed attached to him. And natural enough my ingenious device did appear to Lanover himself: for when I had so addressed him, he said in @ musing tone, “ Yes—that must really be the solu- tion of a mystery which perplexed all the banditti as much as it did myself. On my soul, you are a cunning dog, Joseph!” he exclaimed, raising his hideous eyes to my countenance. “It is a pity eats) ie ee aS - ee oe (COUN Giyoo SS (CO)