Complete Works of Wilkie Collins (1949 page)

MRS. W. (
in a reverie
). Seasoned with salt, pepper, chives and parsley. (hangs her head.)

CAPT. W. (
to her
). Sit straight at the table — more to the left — more still. Really, this is very pleasant. I feel quite in the bosom of my family. Whilst you have been upstairs, my mind has not been idle. I have been considering your position with a view exclusively to your own benefit. If you decide on being guided by the light of my experience, that light is at your service. You may naturally say, I know but little of you, Captain, and that little not in your favor. Granted, on condition that I am allowed to tell you something more. False shame is foreign to my nature. You see my wife, my house, my bread, my butter, and my eggs. Exactly as they are, permit me to show myself.

MAG. Well, sir

CAPT. W. We’ll come to facts. What am I? If you’ll go back to our conversation on the walls of this interesting city, you’ll remember you heard I was an impostor; in other words, a swindler. Now don’t be shocked — don’t be astonished. What is a swindler? Philologically, a word in two short syllables; essentially, a moral agriculturist, a philosopher, who cultivates the field of human sympathy. I am that moral agriculturist, that cultivating man. Narrow-minded mediocrity, envious of my success, calls me a swindler; but what of that? The same low tone of mind calls great writers, scribblers; great generals, butchers. It entirely depends on the point of view. Hear what I have to say for myself in the exercise of my profession. Shall I put it frankly?

MAG. Yes; and I’ll tell you frankly what I think of it. (MRS. WRAGGE
retires from table with her book, and sits by fireplace,
R. U. E,
reading it.
)

MRS. W. (
aside
). “Mince small” — that’s a teazer, isn’t it?

CAPT. W. (
to
MRS. WRAGGE). Down at the heel again — the right shoe; pull it up. (
to
MAGDALEN) Now observe. Here am I, a needy object. I will merely ask, then, whether it isn’t the duty of the Christian community to assist the needy? If you say no, you simply shock me, and there’s an end of the discussion. If you say yes, then I beg to ask why am I to blame for making a Christian community do its duty? You may say, “Is the man who has saved money bound to spend it on him who hasn’t?” Of course he is; and why? Because he has got the money, to be sure. All the world over, the man who has not got the thing obtains it from him who has, and mostly on a plea that’s a false one. I say, then, to the rich, “What, your pockets full, and you refuse to fill mine that are empty? Sordid wretch! do you think I’ll allow you thus to violate the sacred obligations of charity? No — a thousand times I say it — no!”

MRS. W. (
rocking her seat
). A lump of butter as big as my thumb.

CAPT. W. Sit straight. These are my principles as a moral agriculturist. Am I to blame if the field of human sympathy can’t be cultivated in another way? Consult my brother agriculturists. Do they set their crops for the mere asking? No; they must circumvent arid nature, exactly as I circumvent sordid man. They must plough and sow, and top dress, and surface drain, and deep-drain. Why am I, then, to be checked in the vaster occupation of deep-draining mankind?

MRS. W. (
repeating
). “Turn it over and double it, as soon as it’s in the pan.”

CAPT. W. Crooked again! Will you never learn a correct attitude?

MAG. Well, sir; and having thus ploughed and sowed, is your Yorkshire crop a rich one?

CAPT. W. It ought to be — it would be — but that after years of successful efforts, the penalties of celebrity are beginning to attach to me. Pausing at this city, on my way from the north, I consult my books, and find the unfortunate initials marking this city, T. W. K. — too well known.

MAG. You consult your books — what books?

CAPT. W. You shall see them: truly delighted with the opportunity of proving that I withhold nothing from you. (
rises and goes to bureau, from which he takes memorandum books, with which he returns.
)

MRS. W. (
aside
). I’ve got it now: put the frying-pan on the dish, and tumble them both over! (
puts her hands together and turns them.
)

MAG. (
aside
). This is surely the man I need for the fulfillment of my scheme; a man well used to working in the dark, with endless resources of boldness and cunning; who would hesitate at no mean employment, so to put money in his pocket. Two necessities are plainly before me: that of knowing more of my cousin Noel, and that of throwing him off his guard, by concealing myself during the inquiry. I cannot achieve my end without the aid of another; and is there any aid within my reach but that of this impostor?

CAPT. W. Here is my commercial library. Day-book, ledger-book, book of districts, book of letters. In appearance my system looks complicated; in reality, it is simplicity itself. I merely avoid the errors of inferior practitioners; that is to say, I never plead for myself, and I never apply to rich people. People, with small means have sometimes generous impulses, rich people never. My lord with forty thousand a year; Sir John with property in half a dozen counties; these are the men who never forgive the beggar that extracts from them a sovereign. Who are the people that lose sixpences and shillings? Servants and small clerks, to whom they are of consequence. Did you ever hear of Rothschild or of Baring dropping a fourpenny-piece down a gutter-hole? Fourpence in Rothschild’s pocket is safer than in that of the woman who is now crying stale shrimps in the Skeldergate.

MAG. Well, sir?

CAPT. W. Well; here, in book No. 1, are all my districts mapped out, with the prevalent public feeling to appeal to in each — military district, clerical district, agricultural district, etc. Here, in No. 2, are all the cases that I plead. Family of an officer who fell at Waterloo. Wife of a poor curate stricken down by nervous debility. Widow of a grazier in difficulties, gored to death by a mad bull. Here, in No. 3, are the people who have heard of the officer’s family, the curate’s wife, and the grazier’s widow, and here the people who haven’t. The people who have said Yes, and the people who have said No. The people to try again: the people who want a fresh excitement; the people who are doubtful; the people to beware of. Here, in No. 5, are my adopted handwritings of public character; my testimonials to my own worth and integrity; my heartrending statements of the officer’s family, the curate’s wife, etc., stained with tears, blotted with emotion. Here, in No. 6, are my own personal subscriptions to local charities; paid in remunerative neighbourhoods, on the principle of throwing a sprat to catch a herring, and —
 
—

MAG. And such being the evidence of your talents and resources —
 
—

WRAG. You can judge of the assistance I can render you if you intend to adopt the stage.

MAG. But I do not intent to adopt it

WRAG. You don’t?

MAG. I do not. I have merely led my friends to think so as a screen to my real purpose. I have left home with but one object; to carry out, in secret, a scheme for the recovery of my rights, for the regaining of that property which I was robbed of by my uncle.

WRAG. Michael Vanstone?

MAG. Who is dead.

WRAG. Dead?

MAG. Lately, at Brighton; leaving the fortune which should have been mine and my sister’s to his son Noel, an invalid.

WRAG. Bless my soul, here’s a discovery.

MAG. If I want your aid at all, it is to assist me in this scheme. It is to help me, in the first place, to gain access to my cousin; to enable me to see him, I know his feelings towards his father’s victims; to learn also the character and influence of this housekeeper he has got

WRAG. Well, my dear young friend?

MAG. He is gone to London, and is now living at a secluded house at Lambeth, which I intend to enter in disguise, assuming the name of my governess, Miss Garth. To effect this purpose I left home, pretending I was going on the stage; but now shall return to town in secret, and take a lodging near his own. But to do this, I require a companion, and, as a female would be best, may I have your wife?

WRAG. My wife? (
looks at
MRS. W.,
who suddenly starts on seeing she it watched.
)

MAG. Whilst you stay here to await the result, and give me your personal aid in the next step I may require to take.

WRAG. With pleasure, my dear Miss Vanstone; with the utmost possible pleasure. I heartily sympathise in your noble object, and as I cannot doubt, of course, that you are provided with funds to carry it out —
 
—

MAG. With sufficient at least, from the sale of my jewels, to repay you for your assistance. You are in want of money at this moment; will this note meet your necessities? (
takes bill from her pocket-book.
)

WRAG. Twenty pounds! — abundantly, my dear child.

MAG. We will discuss, then, to-morrow, the entire extent of your repayment, as well as all other points in respect to this arrangement. It is agreed that your wife accompanies me, on my return, by an early train.

WRAG. If you can put up with her incumbrance, will thank you for the honour. Mrs. Wragge! Why she’s asleep! Mrs. Wragge!

MRS. W. (
starts from her seat, repeating
). Turn it over, and double it, and — Yes, dear, did you call?

WRAG. Why, ain’t you ashamed to fall asleep on the first occasion our dear niece does us the honour of a visit?

MAG. Oh, don’t blame
her.
I’m tired out myself. If she will oblige me with a candle, I’ll retire.

WRAG. And she’ll conduct you to your room, of course. Mrs. Wragge, a candle, and show our dear niece to her room; and the next time you forget yourself, fall asleep straight, ma’am, if you please. Good night, my dear Miss Vanstone, good night, and refreshing sleep to you!

MAG. Good night, sir.

MRS. W. I really beg your pardon, miss. I thought I was busy cooking. (
lights a candle and goes out
D.
in
F.,
followed by
MAGDALEN.)

WRAG. (
flourishes bill
). Twenty pounds, as a commencement, and the prospect of hundreds, if she succeeds! A noble girl, upon my word; a very noble and deserving girl!

QUICK CURTAIN.

ACT III.

SCENE I. —
The Parlors of a House in Vauxhall Walk, Lambeth.

SERVANT
enters,
L. 3 E. D.,
followed by
MAGDALEN.

SERVANT. If you please, take a seat, mum; I’ll tell Mrs. Lecompte you are here.

[
Exit,
C.,
and off,
L.

MAG (
lifts up her veil, showing her further disguise of false hair, etc.
). So far, then, I have succeeded; I am under his roof, and am about to see his housekeeper — this woman whom I am told exercises so great an influence over him. In this disguise I have little fear of being known, or even suspected; no one would detect me now, not even those who know me best. These rooms are poorly furnished, they confirm the report that he is a miser; and what have we here (
approaches the aquarium and recoils.
)

MADAME LECOMPTE
enters from
L. U. E.,
and by
C.

Good heavens!

MADAME LECOMPTE. Don’t be alarmed; my pets hurt nobody.

MAG. (
turns, dropping her veil, and speaking in a feigned voice
). Madame Lecompte?

MAD. L. I have the pleasure of addressing the lady who called here this morning — Miss Garth.

MAG. The same.

MAD. L. Accept my excuses for the state of these rooms. We only came for a few days, and leave to-morrow for the sea side, for Aldborough on the coast of Norfolk; so we didn’t think it worth while to put them in order. Will you take a seat, and oblige me by mentioning the object of your visit (
places a chair for
MAGDALEN, L. C.,
then takes one herself,
R.)