"That is to say," muttered Dick, ruefully, "Die met den duivel ingescheept is, moet met hem overvaren,—Having embarked with the Devil, you have got to sail with him."
The sound of that word "prison" was by no means agreeable in his ears. He had all a vagabond's love for open air and sunshine, and liberty to go and come at his own fitful will. He sickened at the bare idea of prison walls between him and the sky, prison bars between him and the fresh, roving air, prison restraints upon his freedom of action.
Doctor Remy saw the impression that he had made, and proceeded:—"Wherefore, if you hear, or have heard, the Major express any intention of making a new will, I need not suggest the propriety of your giving me immediate warning." The form of the sentence was that of an assertion, but the tone was interrogative.
"Dictum sapienti sat est," answered Dick, sulkily, denying himself the pleasure of translating, and immediately closing his lips tight, as if he dared not trust himself to say another word.
In this mood, Doctor Remy thought it better not to press him further. He had been made to see that he was in his power, and had even yielded a reluctant assent to his will; this was gain enough for the present. So, having reached the point where the roads diverged, he bade Dick a smiling "Good-day," turned off toward the Hall; which, it occurred to him, it might be worth while to visit, for the chance of securing useful shreds of information, or of substituting the false will for the true one.
Dick Causton looked after him with a moody, discontented brow. "I am like a leek, a gray head, and all the rest green," he groaned to himself. "I thought I had made a mighty sharp bargain, but it turns out that I've only sold myself to the Devil, to fetch and carry at his bidding. I really gave myself credit for more sense; but, Do entra beber, sale saber, When the drink's in, the wit's out."
With the last words, Dick heaved a deep sigh. It was nothing new to find that his darling sin was an inclined plane, down which he continually slid into the grasp of divers other sins, less to his taste; but never before had it done him so unkind a trick as to fling him into the hands of a man quick to see, and unscrupulous to use, the chance of turning him to account. Yet so completely had all courage and energy of will died out of him, and so thoroughly was he scared at the idea of a prison as a possible termination of his career, that he dared propose to himself only a feeble and covert resistance to Doctor Remy's stern domination. There was present safety in outward submission; and as for the future!—he smiled in spite of his discomfiture.
At the Hall, Doctor Remy was a little startled to find Major Bergan in the clutch of so severe an attack of delirium tremens that death was likely to be the speedy result. It did not suit his plans that the Major's decease should follow so quickly upon the completion of the forged will; he wanted a little more time to mark out and make smooth his future course, and obliterate his more recent track. He therefore set to work, with right good will, and science considerably in advance of the times, to strengthen and quiet his patient, and so prolong his life; certain that, whenever the strong hand of medical authority was withdrawn, he would immediately drink himself into a relapse, which could be allowed to prove fatal. His efforts were not without a measure of success; in three hours, he had so far reduced the fever and excitement that he ventured to leave Rue in charge, while he paid a brief visit to another patient, who had sent for him four or five times during the evening. This desertion of his post was fatal to him. In spite of Rue's best endeavors, Major Bergan succeeded in getting possession of the brandy bottle, and draining it to the last drop. When Doctor Remy returned, it was to find him once more a raving maniac, and to learn to his consternation, that Bergan had been sent for. The Major would die, there was no help for that; but something must be done to prevent the arrival of his nephew until after the true will—and all other wills—had been found and destroyed, and the false one put in its place;—even, if possible, until after the funeral was over, the will read, and the property put into his own hands. Once in possession, he had reason to believe that he could not, or would not, be disturbed.
His stay at the Major's bedside was short, and principally spent in profound meditation; which was set down by the lookers-on to the account of his deep solicitude for the patient. His course was soon decided upon. In less than two hours he was back at the Rat-Hole, in deep conversation with the convalescent, who was known as "Big Ben." Its purport may be gathered from the closing remarks.
"You hit pretty hard, I suppose," said the doctor.