13: Mr. Vandelius Explains

IT was very evident to Richard, who from the first had endeavoured to keep a sharp eye on all three men, that Vandelius’ proposal was by no means welcome to his two companions. Although Crench made no further effort to voice his objection, he showed his disapproval by facial expressions and shakings of his head; a scowl on Garner’s face and an abrupt movement of his body showed that he was in agreement with Crench. But at Vandelius’s next words, both men changed in demeanour, and turned on Richard with obvious suspense in their eyes---for the words constituted an all-important question.

“That is,” continued Vandelius, with one of his suave smiles, and watching his visitor more closely than ever, “that is, if Mr. Marchmont gives me his word of honour that my confidence is not abused. In plain language, what I now say to you, Mr. Marchmont---contingent upon your promise---is not to be repeated to anyone. It is to be regarded as being something between you and me?”

“Your friends here sharing in it,” suggested Richard.

“They are already acquainted with it,” replied Vandelius. “Naturally!---or they would not be here. I propose to take you into my confidence, Mr. Marchmont, because you tell me you are engaged to Lansdale’s daughter, and this is really for Lansdale’s sake. Being in love with Miss Lansdale, you naturally desire her father’s safety---you wish to see him cleared of a charge which the police have brought against him----”

“Not quite that, sir!” interrupted Crench. “The police, up to now, have not brought any charge against Mr. Lansdale. If they had, I am afraid you would be in something of a delicate position---possibly liable for what is called comforting and assisting a suspected person. All that the police are anxious to find Lansdale for is that they may ask him to give some account of his doings with Henry Marchmont after their meeting at the dinner in the City---whether he actually did go to Bedford Row or not, and if he did, what happened there? There has been no warrant issued against Lansdale---at least no warrant had been issued when I left town this morning.”

Vandelius waved his hand as if to brush aside the solicitor’s interruption and remarks.

“Legal quips and quiddities don’t interest me,” he said. “That is all in your domain, friend Crench. We have done nothing against the law that I know of. Mr. Lansdale and his daughter are my guests---I don’t know Mr. Lansdale as a criminal fleeting from justice! I am about, for his sake---and his daughter’s sake---to tell Mr. Marchmont why they are here. That is, if Mr. Marchmont gives me his word of honour that he will respect my confidence?”

“I can’t do anything else,” said Richard. “So---I shall!”

Vandelius smiled, nodded at the other men, threw away his cigar, and leaning forward in his chair began to address Richard as if he was an audience, or a judge, or a jury, to whom it was necessary to elaborate and to explain---with a liberal use of gesture.

“I will begin then, Mr. Marchmont,” he said, “by informing you that Mr. Lansdale has for many years lived in South America, where he has done much good work in aiding in the development of various industries and natural resources; he is well known over there, and there he has amassed a very considerable fortune. He has very large business interests. He has and has had a great deal to do with options and concessions. Lately he came to England in connection with a most important deal of that nature---the sale of and taking up of an option. He desired to find a financial man, a capitalist of undoubted substance. He found me!”

Vandelius paused as if to let this information sink deep into his listener’s mind. Getting nothing from Richard in response beyond a steady stare of attention, he went on.

“He found me!---Louis Vandelius. With me he opened negotiations. The negotiations involve, represent, an enormous sum of money. If they come to a successful conclusion, Lansdale adds greatly to his already considerable fortune; I vastly increase mine! Therefore, as is natural, we are supremely anxious that the negotiations should be successful. And they are going on most successfully, here in London, and away across the sea, in a certain city in South America, by constant interchange of cablegrams, when a most unpleasant diversion occurs---Lansdale meets your uncle!”

Richard was beginning to wonder if the man before him had ever been an actor, or if he amused himself by writing dramatic stuff, or if he was merely one of those people who cannot help showing dramatic effect in speech and action, for the more he talked the more dramatic he was getting---voice, eyes, shoulders, fingers were all being brought into active play.

“He meets your uncle!” Vandelius continued, throwing out his hands. “Lansdale meets Henry Marchmont! A calamity! For Lansdale has a past! A past!---and Henry Marchmont, the upright, matter-of-fact, call-a-spade-a-spade solicitor, not likely to forget or to overlook anything that he objects to in his severe, English mode of regarding things, is connected with it. Years before, previous to his successful career in another country, Lansdale was Land, a dealer in shares in an obscure country town in which Henry Marchmont was a young solicitor. Something goes wrong---there is a great smash---Land’s clients lose money---much money---some of them all their money! Land goes---what you call makes himself scarce---he is there to-day, and to-morrow he isn’t! And then, of course, many of these unfortunate people say he robbed and defrauded them!”

He spread out his hands again and shrugged his shoulders, looking at Richard as if to appeal to him. But Richard remained silent, stolid as ever.

“Of course, it is what they would say!” continued Vandelius, with a grimace. “They always do! Yet they are generally wrong, these people---suffering, eh? from bitter disappointment. In this case, I am assured---Lansdale gives me his word!—they were wrong. He robbed nobody; defrauded nobody! The people were the victims of their own gambling mania---they wanted to get rich quick---they had a fever for certain things---they would buy---he was but an agent. Perhaps he made a mistake in not what you call facing the music---but he didn’t. He fled, overseas. Then, twenty-five years later, he comes back, a rich man, engaged in a stupendous financial deal, and, unexpectedly, he runs his head right against the past in the shape of Henry Marchmont, the respectable, uncompromising, stern English man-of-law!”

Again the spread-out hands, the dramatic appeal---and again Richard’s watchful silence.

“Well!” continued Vandelius. “A calamity! A catastrophe! Why? Because the stupendous deal is on the very eve of completion; a few days, perhaps a few hours, and it will be carried through, and Lansdale will be richer than ever, and---incidentally!---so, even more so, will Vandelius! But---Henry Marchmont? Henry Marchmont is---a man of probity, and a severe man. Suppose Henry Marchmont voices it abroad in the City that Lansdale is an absconder, that he has a bad record, that his past is shady? Such news flies round the City like wild-fire. Suppose Henry Marchmont does this?---quicker than it takes to tell, the news reaches the little group of financiers with whom Vandelius and Lansdale are dealing, and the grand coup is---well, if not off, delayed, possibly endangered! What is to be done? Fortunately Lansdale thinks quickly. He implores Henry Marchmont to give him an interview at his office whereat he may explain. Henry Marchmont consents!---the interview is arranged. On the following evening, Lansdale is to wait upon Henry Marchmont!”

“Did he go?” asked Richard.

It was the first time he had opened his lips since Vandelius began his story, and the tone in which he asked this apparently simple question was quiet enough. But in reality he was conscious that he was now about to hear the truth, and under his stolid demeanour his nerves were tense with anxiety.

“He went!” replied Vandelius. “He saw Henry Marchmont. Henry Marchmont was iron! Obdurate, adamant, immovable! He refused to have anything to do with Lansdale. He delivered to Lansdale an ultimatum. If Lansdale wished to clear himself of the matter of twenty-five years ago let him repair to the town whence he fled, and do it there---publicly! Otherwise, he, Henry Marchmont, would take it upon himself to let the financial world know that Lansdale, the now successful, was identical with Land, the defaulter! A hard man!---implacable!”

“Well?” asked Richard.

“Lansdale leaves Henry Marchmont. Lansdale goes away, much upset. He feels that Henry Marchmont is unjust, harsh, for he, Lansdale, did not cheat or rob anybody---he was the victim of circumstance as much as the people who employed his services. He returns to his hotel. He is very unhappy! He feels broken; he could shed tears. And at that stage in walks Vandelius! Vandelius is a man of vast human sympathies---Lansdale, earlier in the day, has told Vandelius of the unfortunate rencontre with Henry Marchmont, and of the proposed interview, and Vandelius has now come to hear how the interview went off. Lansdale tells him---tells him, moreover, that he fears---yes, fears!---that Henry Marchmont will denounce him!---yes, perhaps to the police! What is to be done? For both Vandelius and Lansdale must consider this great deal, this stupendous affair, papers relating to which are on the way, may arrive in a few days, next day, perhaps are already in the postman’s wallet, awaiting delivery! It is frightful; it is nerve-destroying; something must be done. They talk---quickly! Finally, it seems to Vandelius that the thing to do is to remove Lansdale to a place of safety where nothing can occur to prevent him from attaching his necessary signature to those arriving papers. It is done!---Vandelius carries Lansdale away!”

“To Malbourne Manor,” remarked Richard in his driest tones. “Just so, Mr. Vandelius! And next day you got Miss Lansdale here!”

“By a little, quite kindly ruse,” smiled Vandelius. “In her own interests---and her father’s.”

“Don’t think it was very kind to tell her that her father was ill,” said Richard. “That----”

“My good young gentleman, her father was ill!” retorted Vandelius. “He was very poorly indeed for several days---so upset had he been by your uncle’s manner towards him. He is not well now, but he has every comfort and attention---so has his daughter. And I am doing all I can to clear him of any suspicion. Vandelius acts! Figure to yourself, Mr. Marchmont, my predicament! The very day after I carry Lansdale away to this quiet country retreat, I hear that your uncle, the Henry Marchmont we have talked of, has been found murdered!---must have been murdered very soon after Lansdale left him---and that suspicion has already fallen upon Lansdale, of whom Henry Marchmont has told his managing clerk! What a state of things; what a mess! I spring into action!---I move!---I instruct friend Crench here to offer a reward, a big reward---by finding the real murderer we will clear Lansdale. Get the right man, and all suspicion against the wrong one falls flat!”

“Has Mr. Crench had any luck?---any response?” asked Richard.

The solicitor shook his head.

“Not a letter, not a word!” he replied. “Nothing has turned up yet.”

“But it is early,” remarked Vandelius hastily. “There must be somebody; there must be something. And I am going to send down to this town of the long ago---Clayminster, eh?---to have that matter cleared up---Lansdale must be set right!”

Richard rose to his feet.

“I’m much obliged to you, Mr. Vandelius,” he said. “I shall respect your confidence, of course. Now I want to know if I may see Mr. Lansdale and his daughter?”

He was conscious of a murmur of disapproval from Crench, and a restless movement on the part of Garner as he made this request, but Vandelius showed no sign of any intention to refuse it. On the contrary he nodded his assent.

“Yes,” he said. “I don’t see any reason why you should not, Mr. Marchmont. It seems to me that we are what you call all in the same boat---you don’t believe that Lansdale murdered your uncle, and you are anxious to establish his innocence, and so am I, so there is a common purpose between us----”

“Mr. Marchmont has promised not to tell anything of what has passed between you and him, sir,” interrupted Crench, “but there’s no bond of secrecy entered into as regards what might pass between him and Lansdale. Mr. Marchmont, to my knowledge, is in close touch with a Scotland Yard man, Liversedge. Now----”

Before Crench could say more, and as Richard was on the point of interrupting him, a sudden knock at the door prefaced the entrance of the man who had arrested and catechised him in the park, and who now inquired in a low voice if he might speak to Mr. Garner. Garner left the room with him; he was scarcely over the threshold when he looked in again, and hurriedly asked Vandelius and the solicitor to step outside. That some event of a probably important nature had happened, Richard felt sure from the expression on Garner’s face; what it might be he could only guess at. Perhaps the papers of which Vandelius spoke had arrived; perhaps some information had come for Crench; perhaps . . .

It suddenly struck him that the three men were a long time in coming back; several minutes had gone by, several more went, and still he had the room to himself. At last the door opened, and the man who had called Garner out came in again, alone.

“Mr. Vandelius sends you his compliments, sir,” he said in tones which were now as polite as formerly they had been menacing, “and regrets that he cannot see you again this evening, nor introduce you to Mr. Lansdale, owing to important business. He will be much obliged if you will tell me where you can be found in Malbourne, so that he can communicate with you to-morrow morning.”

“I am staying at the Malbourne Arms,” said Richard. He saw that there was nothing else to be done, and no other answer to be given. “How do I get out?” he went on. “Not, of course, as I came in!”

He said this with a smile, but the man to whom he spoke looked as if he never smiled. He answered that a servant would show the way; and led Richard to a footman who presently let him out of the house, and told him how to pass through the lodge at the end of the great drive. And without further adventure Richard went away, and returned to the hotel, greatly to the delight of Scarfe, who was hanging restlessly about the portals, and in due time he retired to bed, more satisfied in mind than he had been for many days. He half-expected to dream of moats and ruins and all the rest of it, but he dreamt of nothing, and was sound asleep when a loud knocking on his door preluded his sudden waking in a grey dawn to see Liversedge standing at his bedside.