The box was empty!
CHAPTER VI.
LUCIUS HAGGARD IS BEWILDERED.
John, Earl of Pit Town, was above all things an art-worshipper. He was never tired of perambulating the great galleries of Pit Town Castle and admiring the collection, which it had been his life-long labour of love to bring together. When his son, the late Lord Hetton, had come to his sudden and dreadful end, the old man had felt the blow severely; when his heir, Reginald Haggard, had been snatched away in the pride of his manhood, it had affected him in a less degree; but he had felt the blow from its very suddenness. Ever since Reginald Haggard's wife had come to live at the Castle, he had ceased to feel that he was alone in the world, and a deep affection had sprung up between the two. As for Haggard's boys, now bursting into early manhood, he loved them somewhat for themselves, but still more for the sake of the woman who had been a daughter to him, and the stay and comfort of his waning years. Always orderly and methodical, he had settled the ultimate disposition of his property with justice and discretion. He was immensely wealthy. As we have said, the entailed property was extremely large, but was exceeded in actual money value by the great mineral wealth which was disposable by will. The value of several ordinary estates, too, was locked up in the vast collection contained in the new galleries.
The future possessor of the Pit Town title would be a lucky man indeed if he got the treasures so laboriously accumulated, during his long lifetime, by old Lord Pit Town. The old man lived by strict rule. He had a curious theory that, barring accidents, the span of human life might be ordinarily calculated at sixty-five years; that is, supposing that one third of the time, or eight hours a day, was given to sleep. He believed, too, that just as the span of life is undoubtedly shortened by indiscretions and excesses, particularly in the matters of diet and drink; so he considered that span to be indubitably lengthened, if the ordinary rules of common prudence were carefully observed. But Lord Pit Town went further than this. Continual association with Dr. Wolff had converted the old nobleman to an extraordinary and original theory which was held by the doctor of philosophy. This theory was a delightfully simple one. Dr. Wolff was accustomed to sum it up as follows: "The human body is a machine, and would go on working for ever did not certain parts of it gradually wear out. It is our duty to make the machine last as long as possible. When not in use it should be run at the lowest rate of speed, in order to reduce the rapidity of the deterioration." "If I don't want to wear out my boots," Dr. Wolff would triumphantly remark, "I put on my slippers; therefore, as my body is more precious to me than even my new boots, I never unnecessarily wear it out. A certain minimum amount of exercise is undoubtedly necessary to health; let us take that by all means, but no more. Let us avoid unnecessary exertion of all kinds, physical or mental; let us not ride if we can drive, let us not walk if we can ride, let us not stand when we can sit, and certainly we should not sit if we can lie down; above all things we should not remain awake if we can possibly sleep, and even in sleeping we should, if possible, refrain from dreams. The valuable machine which we are possessed of should be run at the lowest possible speed, that it may last the longer. Strong emotions of all kinds should be just as obnoxious to us as strong drinks. Holding it as an absolute fact that, barring unavoidable accidents, a certain definite amount of wakefulness is allotted to every man, every opportunity should be seized for running the machine at the lowest possible rate by the simplest means; that is to say, to put it shortly, never remain awake without an object, as you are uselessly expending the allotted time of Life, that is to say, of Wakefulness." But Dr. Wolff and his disciple went further than this: they looked upon sleep as the secret recuperative power of nature. They considered that in sleep they had discovered the real vis medicatrix naturæ. Their curiosity was aroused as to the success of their theory; they were neither of them particularly anxious to become very old men, except that their doing so would tend to prove the correctness of their views.
Lord Pit Town himself had already reached an almost patriarchal age; he slept and dozed frequently in the daytime, thus carrying out the principles of what the doctor proudly termed the "Wolffian Theory." Under no pretext whatever would any servant at Walls End Castle have dared to awaken either the doctor or the old lord; they were never called in the morning, and in the midst of the most interesting conversations they were both of them in the habit, without the slightest apology, of suddenly closing their eyes and taking a deep draught of what they called nature's recuperative elixir. Everybody in Walls End Castle knew perfectly well what the servants meant, when they said that either the old lord or his faithful henchman was engaged; it simply signified that the two human dormice were carrying out the Wolffian Theory.
In sleep they were both accustomed to seek refuge from disturbing influences of all kinds. On the second day of Mrs. Dodd's visit to the Castle she had seized the opportunity of improving the occasion, when she suddenly came upon the old lord and the philosopher, each of whom was seated in an easy chair, silently drinking in the beauties of the celebrated Pit Town Turner, which formed one of the gems of the new galleries.
"I hope I'm not intruding," the energetic lady remarked, as she burst in upon the scene of tranquil enjoyment; "I don't disturb you, Lord Pit Town?" she said.