"It will be nothing of the kind," he replied. "When I want her she will rise from her bed and walk down stairs and go wherever I bid her, looking to all appearances as well and strong as any other woman in this town."
"By all means let us go to England then," I said, clutching eagerly at the hope he held out. "Though how you are going to manage it I do not know."
"You shall see," he said. "Remember, you have never known me fail. If you would bear that fact in mind a little oftener, you would come nearer a better appreciation of my character than that to which you have so far attained. However, while we are wasting time talking, it is getting late, and you have not dined yet. I suppose it is necessary for you to eat, otherwise you will be incapable of anything?"
"I could not touch a thing," I answered in reply to his gibe. "You will not therefore be hindered by me. But how can we go out and leave Valerie behind in her present condition?"
"I shall give her an opiate," he said, "which will keep her sleeping quietly for the next three or four hours. When she wakes she will be capable of anything."
He thereupon left the room, and upward of a quarter of an hour elapsed before he rejoined me. When he did, I noticed that he was dressed for going out. I immediately picked up my hat and stick and followed him down stairs. Once in the street, Pharos started off at a smart pace, and as soon as he reached the corner, near the first chemist's shop I had visited that afternoon, turned sharply to his left, crossed the road, and entered a bye lane. The remainder of the journey was of too tortuous a description for me to hope to give you any detailed account of it. Up one back street and down another, over innumerable canals, we made our way, until at last we reached a quarter of the town totally distinct from that in which our hotel was situated. During the walk Pharos scarcely spoke, but times out of number he threw angry glances at me over his shoulder when I dropped a little behind. Indeed, he walked at such a pace, old man though he was, that at times I found it extremely difficult to keep up with him. At last, entering a dirtier street than any we had so far encountered, he stopped short before a tall, austere building which from a variety of evidences had seen better days, and might a couple of centuries or so before have been the residence of some well-to-do merchant. Mounting the steps, he rapped sharply upon the door with his stick. A sound of laughter and the voice of a man singing reached us from within, and when Pharos knocked a second time the rapidity of the blows and the strength with which they were administered bore witness to his impatience. At last, however, the door was opened a few inches by a man who looked out and inquired with an oath what we wanted.
"I have come in search of Captain Wisemann," my companion answered. "If he is at home, tell him that if he does not receive Monsieur Pharos at once, he knows the penalty. Carry him that message and be quick about it. I have waited at this door quite long enough."
With an unintelligible grunt the man departed on his errand, and it was plain that the news he brought had a sobering effect upon the company within, for a sudden silence prevailed, and a few moments later he returned and begged us with comparative civility to enter. We did so, and followed our guide along a filthy passage to a room at the back of the dwelling, a magnificent chamber, panelled with old oak, every inch of which spoke of an age and an art long since dead. The dirt of the place, however, passes description. Under the régime of the present owner, it seemed doubtful whether any attempt had ever been made to clean it. The ceiling was begrimed with smoke and dirt, cobwebs not only decorated the cornices and the carved figures on the chimneypiece, but much of the panelling on the walls themselves was cracked and broken. On the table in the centre of the room was all that remained of a repast, and at this Pharos sniffed disdainfully.
"A pig he was when I first met him, and a pig he will remain to the day of his death," said Pharos, by way of introducing the man upon whom we were calling. "However, a pig is at all times a useful animal, and so is Wisemann."
At this moment the man of whom he had spoken in these scarcely complimentary terms entered the room.