Gilead, having extracted the nail, read the advertisement again, and chuckled. It was of the order Facetiæ, of course. Wags not infrequently would thus parody the incredible absurdities of cults and cranks, or even invent wilder ones in a mere frolic of animal spirits. He had come across quite a number of such hoaxes in his long experience of the paper. There had been, for instance, the two ladies who, studying the endurance of physical pain, desired the co-operation of another in arranging for a series of private experiments on human subjects; there had been the duet of lone bachelors, depressed by London Sundays, who invited suggestions as to how best to pass their time in any agreeable way not involving energy, and those other two who, being without the capacity to work, invited some wealthy philanthropist to provide them with annuities and a cottage in the country meet to their leisured tastes. There had been the despairing gentleman who coveted a society and a friendship unfranked by whiskies and sodas, which disagreed with him, and the practising barrister who had offered an equitable mortgage of his body (heart excepted) in return for an accommodation. Finally there had been the demand for a man willing to demonstrate his personal pliability on an old English rack, Star Chamber pattern, and who had been recommended, by an admirable touch, to be ‘short to start with.’
Of such palpably was the obese gentleman, with his superfluous flesh, and Gilead was on the point of laying him aside, with a parting grin, when his gaze was caught and riveted on an advertisement which appeared just under the one in question:—
“Middle-aged gentleman, recommended to chop wood for obesity two hours daily, seeks cheerful refined companion to work beside him away from home. Honorarium by arrangement. Address Winsom Wyllie: 048391 Daily Post.”
Now we all must have observed how advertisements, though of an exceptional and esoteric cast, are gregarious in character. That is to say, if some strange want appears advertised on a particular day, there will be sure to be others of its kind in company, and that without any editorial provision, and despite the fact that nothing of its sort, maybe, has occurred for weeks. Here one obese gentleman led to another, and undesignedly, one might feel sure. It was simply that adiposity was in the air, like a germ, and affected not individuals but communities. It made no difference that an obvious sincerity spoke from the second advertisement—no difference to the principle, I mean. As to its effect upon one reader, it was simply for the moment paralysing.
WINSOM WYLLIE! Those who have followed the career of our young philanthropist will not have forgotten the name of that detestable scoundrel, the persecutor of the beautiful amanuensis. It was peculiar, one must admit—a name not likely to be borne by more than a single person in the world. So thought Gilead, as, with a deep sigh, he struggled out of his stupefaction and reread the lines.
Winsom Wyllie! So the brazen wretch had confessed himself, and unblushingly, at the last. It was well. If unlimited wealth, if a soul of righteous indignation, were of any avail against the forces of malignancy, he should be hounded surely to his doom. The means were here; the way alone was the question.
It must not be supposed that during all these long months Gilead had been content to relegate this matter to the shelf of discarded things. Quietly and unobtrusively he had kept it alive in his mind, had prosecuted cautious enquiries, had caused a persistent watch to be kept on the little house on Knight’s Hill; and, if all his efforts had proved in vain, he had been at least able to find comfort in the conviction that the villain, true to his name, had scented danger and studied discretion by obliterating himself. And now here he was come out into the light of day, and boldly affirming his existence in the face of any whom it might concern. The advertisement was nothing less than a challenge and a defiance. Well, the gage, he should find, would be taken up.
But it was necessary, of course, to move with the extremest caution and circumspection. Nothing, in the first place, must be said about the matter to Miss Halifax, lest the shock should bring on again one of those cataleptic seizures with which it was associated; nor could he think himself justified in revealing, unauthorized, to her fiancé the details of so delicate and painful a story. No, alone and single-handed he must encounter the man on his own ground, betraying nothing of his purpose until that purpose was accomplished. The villain must be overthrown, disposed of for good and all, ere ever the girl should learn of the shadow that had finally been removed from her life.
He finished his breakfast in a very thoughtful mood, and by the end of it had come to a definite resolve. These two must get married with as little delay as possible. There could be no better means for disposing once and for all of Mr Winsom Wyllie and his unwelcome attentions. He himself might discover and expose the scoundrel; to provide Vera with a legitimate protector was to render him innocuous for ever more. Yes, it must be done and at once; there was no reason in the world for delaying a consummation so sensible and so happy.
Before starting for the office Gilead took up the paper yet once more to study the advertisement, and this time with a fine ironic laughter. He recalled very well, he believed, certain descriptive epithets applied by the young lady to her persecutor. He had been “unusual and sinister”; he had been “endowed with a demoniac energy”; he had been “a dangerous man,” affecting piratic emblems. And here he was after all grown fat, confessed of middle age, and recommended by his doctor to chop wood in order to reduce his bulk! O, to what base passes would not constitution bring us! Picturesqueness, romance, attractiveness, even, of the diabolic cast—we were each one of us in such matters at the mercy of our stomachs. No doubt this same spider, indolently watchful in his web, had waxed plump and round through too much feeding and too little exercise.