Foul Play by Dion Boucicault (snow like ashes .TXT) 📖

asked for more samples. Robert showed him the fruits, woods, and shells, and the pink coral, and bade him observe that the boat was ballasted with pearl oysters. He threw him up one, and a bunch of pink coral. He then shinned up the rope again, and the interrogatories recommenced. But this time he was questioned closely as to who he was, and how he came on the island? and the questions were so shrewd and penetrating that his fortitude gave way, and he cried out in anguish, “Man, man! do not torture me so. Oh, do not make me talk of my grief and my wrongs! they are more than I can bear.”

Fullalove forbore directly, and offered him a cigar. He took it, and it soothed him a little; it was long since he had smoked one. His agitation subsided, and a quiet tear or two rolled down his haggard cheek.

The Yankee saw, and kept silence.

But, when the cigar was nearly smoked out, he said he was afraid Robert would not find a customer for his island, and what a pity Joshua Fullalove was cool on islands just now.

“Oh!” said Robert, “I know there are enterprising Americans on the coast who will give me money for what I have to sell.”

Fullalove was silent a minute, then he got a piece of wood and a knife, and said with an air of resignation, “I reckon we’ll have to deal.”

Need we say that to deal had been his eager desire from the first?

He now began to whittle a peg, and awaited the attack.

“What will you give me, sir?”

“What, money down? And you got nothing to sell but chances. Why, there’s an old cuss about that knows where the island is as well as you do.”

“Then of course you will treat with him,” said Robert, sadly.

“Darned if I do,” said the Yankee. “You are in trouble, and he is not, nor never will be till he dies, and then he’ll get it hot, I calc’late. He is a thief and stole my harpoon: you are an honest man and brought it back. I reckon I’ll deal with you and not with that old cuss; not by a jugful! But it must be on a percentage. You tell me the bearings of that there island, and I’ll work it and pay five per cent on the gross.”

“Would you mind throwing that piece of wood into the sea, Mr. Fullalove?” said Robert.

“Caen’t be done, nohow. I caen’t deal without whittlin’.”

“You mean you can’t take an unfair advantage without it. Come, Mr. Fullalove, let us cut this short. I am, as you say, an honest and most unfortunate man. Sir, I was falsely accused of a crime and banished my country. I can prove my innocence now if I can but get home with a great deal of money. So much for me. You are a member of the vainest and most generous nation in the world.”

“Wal, now that’s kinder honey and vinegar mixed,” said Fullalove; “pretty good for a Britisher, though.”

“You are a man of that nation which in all the agonies and unparalleled expenses of civil war, smarting, too, under anonymous taunts from England, did yet send over a large sum to relieve the distresses of certain poor Englishmen who were indirect victims of that same calamity. The act, the time, the misery relieved, the taunts overlooked, prove your nation superior to all others in generosity. At least my reading, which is very large, affords no parallel to it, either in ancient or modern history. Mr. Fullalove, please to recollect that you are a member of that nation, and that I am very unhappy and helpless, and want money to undo cruel wrongs, but have no heart to chaffer much. Take the island and the treasures, and give me half the profits you make. Is not that fair?”

Fullalove wore a rueful countenance.

“Darn the critter,” said he, “he’ll take skin off my bones if I don’t mind. Fust Britisher ever I met as had the sense to see that. ‘Twas rather handsome, warn’t it? Wal, human nature is deep; every man you tackle in business larns ye something. What with picking ye out o’ the sea, and you giving me back the harpoon the cuss stole, and your face like a young calf, when you are the ‘cutest fox out, and you giving the great United States their due, I’m no more fit to deal than mashed potatoes. Now I cave; it is only for once. Next time don’t you try to palaver me. Draw me a map of our island, Britisher, and mark where the Spaniard lies. I tell you I know her name, and the year she was lost in; learned that at Lima one day. Kinder startled me, you did, when you showed me the coin out of her. Wal, there’s my hand on haelf profits, and, if I’m keen, I’m squar’.”

Soon after this he led Robert to his cabin, and Robert drew a large map from his models; and Fullalove, being himself an excellent draughtsman, and provided with proper instruments, aided him to finish it.

Next day they sighted Valparaiso, and hove to outside the port.

All the specimens of insular wealth were put on board the schooner and secreted; for Fullalove’s first move was to get a lease of the island from the Chilian government, and it was no part of his plan to trumpet the article he was going to buy.

After a moment’s hesitation, he declined to take the seven pounds of silver. He gave as a reason that, having made a bargain which compelled him to go to Valparaiso at once, he did not feel like charging his partner a fancy price for towing his boat thither. At the same time he hinted that, after all this, the next customer would find him a very difficult Yankee to get the better of.

With this understanding, he gave Robert a draft for eighty pounds on account of profits; and this enabled him to take a passage for England with all his belongings.

He arrived at Southampton very soon after the events last related, and thence went to London, fully alive to the danger of his position.

He had a friend in his long beard, but he dared not rely on that alone. Like a mole, he worked at night.

 

CHAPTER LXVI.

 

HELEN asked Arthur Wardlaw why he was so surprised at the prayerbook being brought back. Was it worth twenty pounds. to any one except herself?

Arthur looked keenly at her to see whether she intended more than met the ear, and then said he was surprised at the rapid effect of his advertisement, that was all.

“Now you have got the book,” said he, “I do hope you will erase that cruel slander on one whom you mean to honor with your hand.”

This proposal made Helen blush and feel very miserable. Of the obnoxious lines some were written by Robert Penfold, and she had so little of his dear handwriting. “I feel you are right, Arthur,” said she; “but you must give me time. Then, they shall meet no eye but mine; and on our wedding-day—of course—all memorials of one—” Tears completed the sentence.

Arthur Wardlaw, raging with jealousy at the absent Penfold, as heretofore Penfold had raged at him, heaved a deep sigh and hurried away, while Helen was locking up the prayerbook in her desk. By this means he retained Helen’s pity.

He went home directly, mounted to his bedroom, unlocked a safe, and plunged his hand into it. His hand encountered a book; he drew it out with a shiver and gazed at it with terror and amazement.

It was the prayerbook he had picked up in the Square and locked up in that safe. Yet that very prayerbook had been restored to Helen before his eyes, and was now locked up in her desk. He sat down with the book in his hand, and a great dread came over him.

Hitherto Candor and Credulity only had been opposed to him, but now Cunning had entered the field against him; a master hand was co-operating with Helen.

Yet, strange to say, she seemed unconscious of that co-operation. Had Robert Penfold found his way home by some strange means? Was he watching over her in secret?

He had the woman he loved watched night and day, but no Robert Penfold was detected.

He puzzled his brain night and day, and at last he conceived a plan of deceit which is common enough in the East, where lying is one of the fine arts, but was new in this country, we believe, and we hope to Heaven we shall not be the means of importing it.

An old clerk of his father’s, now superannuated and pensioned off, had a son upon the stage, in a very mean position. Once a year, however, and of course in the dogdays, he had a kind of benefit at his suburban theater; that is to say, the manager allowed him to sell tickets, and take half the price of them. He persuaded Arthur to take some, and even to go to the theater for an hour. The man played a little part, of a pompous sneak, with some approach to Nature. He seemed at home.

Arthur found this man out; visited him at his own place. He was very poor, and mingled pomposity with obsequiousness, so that Arthur felt convinced he was to be bought, body and soul, what there was of him.

He sounded him accordingly, and the result was that the man agreed to perform a part for him.

Arthur wrote it, and they rehearsed it together. As to the dialogue, that was so constructed that it could be varied considerably according to the cues, which could be foreseen to a certain extent; but not precisely, since they were to be given by Helen Rolleston, who was not in the secret.

But while this plot was fermenting, other events happened, with rather a contrary tendency; and these will be more intelligible if we go back to Nancy Rouse’s cottage, where indeed we have kept Joseph Wylie in an uncomfortable position a very long time.

Mrs. James, from next door, was at last admitted into Nancy’s kitchen, and her first word was, “I suppose you know what I’m come about, ma’am.”

“Which it is to return me the sasspan you borrowed, no doubt,” was Nancy’s ingenuous reply.

“No, ma’am. But I’ll send my girl in with it, as soon as she have cleaned it, you may depend.”

“Thank ye, I shall be glad to see it again.”

“You’re not afeard I shall steal it, I hope?”

‘“La, bless the woman! don’t fly out at a body like that. I can’t afford to give away my sasspan.”

“Sasspans is not in my head.”

“Nor in your hand neither.”

“I’m come about my lodger; a most respectable gentleman, which he have met with an accident. He did but go to put something away in the chimbley, which he is a curious gent, and has traveled a good deal, and learned the foreign customs, when his hand was caught in the brick-work, somehows, and there he is hard and fast.”

“Do you know anything about this?” said Nancy to the mite, severely.

“No,” said the mite, with a countenance of polished granite.

“La bless me” said Nancy. with a sudden start “Why, is she talking about the thief as you and I catched putting his hand through the wall into my room, and made him fast again the policeman comes round?”

“Thief!” cried Mrs. James. “No more a thief than I am. Why, sure you wouldn’t ever be so cruel! Oh, dear! Oh, dear! Spite goes a far length. There, take an’ kill me, do, and