The Fortune Teller
Sir Henry Marquis continued to read; he made no comment; hisvoice clear and even.It was a big sunny room. The long windows looked out on a formalgarden, great beech trees and the bow of the river. Within itwas a sort of library. There were bookcases built into the wall,to the height of a man's head, and at intervals between them,rising from the floor to the cornice of the shelves, were rows ofmahogany drawers with glass knobs. There was also a flat writingtable.It was the room of a traveler, a man of letters, a dreamer. Onthe table were an inkpot of carved jade, a paperknife of ivorywith gold butterflies set in; three bronze storks, with theirbacks together, held an exquisite Japanese crystal.The room was in disorder - the drawers pulled out and thecontents ransacked.My father stood leaning against the casement of the window,looking out. The lawyer, Mr. Lewis, sat in a chair beside thetable, his eyes on the violated room."Pendleton," he said, "I don't like this English man Gosford."The words seemed to arouse my father out of the depths of somereflection, and he turned to the lawyer, Mr. Lewis."Gosford!" he echoed."He is behind this business, Pendleton," the lawyer, Mr. Lewis,went on. "Mark my word! He comes here when Marshall is dying;he forces his way to the man's bed; he puts the servants out; helocks the door. Now, what business had this Englishman withMarshall on his deathbed? What business of a secrecy so closethat Marshall's son is barred out by a locked door?"He paused and twisted the seal ring on his finger."When you and I came to visit the sick man, Gosford was alwayshere, as though he kept a watch upon us, and when we left, hewent always to this room to write his letters, as he said."And more than this, Pendleton; Marshall is hardly in his gravebefore Gosford writes me to inquire by what legal process thedead man's papers may be examined for a will. And it is Gosfordwho sends a negro riding, as if the devil were on the crupper, tosummon me in the name of the Commonwealth of Virginia, - toappear and examine into the circumstances of this burglary."I mistrust the man. He used to hang about Marshall in his life,upon some enterprise of secrecy; and now he takes possession andleadership in his affairs, and sets the man's son aside. In whatright, Pendleton, does this adventurous Englishman feel himselfsecure?"My father did not reply to Lewis's discourse. His comment was inanother quarter."Here is young Marshall and Gaeki," he said.The lawyer rose and came over to the window.Two persons were advancing from the direction of the stables - atall, delicate boy, and a strange old man. The old man walkedwith a quick, jerky, stride. It was the old country doctorGaeki. And, unlike any other man of his profession, he wouldwork as long and as carefully on the body of a horse as he wouldon the body of a man, snapping out his quaint oaths, and in astress of effort, as though he struggled with some invisiblecreature for its' prey. The negroes used to say that the devilwas afraid of Gaeki, and he might have been, if to disable a manor his horse were the devil's will. But I think, rather, thenegroes imagined the devil to fear what they feared themselves."Now, what could bring Gaeki here?" said Lewes."It was the horse that Gosford overheated in his race to you,"replied my father. "I saw him stop in the road where the negroboy was leading the horse about, and then call young Marshall.""It was no fault of young Marshall, Pendleton," said the lawyer."But, also, he is no match for Gosford. He is a dilettante. Hepaints little pictures after the fashion he learned in Paris, andhe has no force or vigor in him. His father was a dreamer, awanderer, one who loved the world and its frivolities, and theson takes that temperament, softened by his mother. He ought tohave a guardian.""He has one," replied my father."A guardian!" repeated Lewis. "What court has appointed aguardian for young Marshall?""A court," replied my father, "that does not sit under theauthority of Virginia. The helpless, Lewis, in their youth andinexperience, are not wholly given over to the spoiler."The boy they talked about was very young - under twenty, onewould say. He was blue-eyed and fair-haired, with thin, delicatefeatures, which showed good blood long inbred to the loss ofvigor. He had the fine, open, generous face of one who takes theworld as in a fairy story. But now there was care and anxiety init, and a furtive shadow, as though the lad's dream of life hadgot some rude awakening.At this moment the door behind my father and Lewis was thrownviolently open, and a man entered. He was a person with themanner of a barrister, precise and dapper; he had a long, pinkface, pale eyes, and a close-cropped beard that brought out thehard lines of his mouth. He bustled to the table, put down asort of portfolio that held an inkpot, a writing-pad and pens,and drew up a chair like one about to take the minutes of ameeting. And all the while he apologized for his delay. He hadimportant letters to get off in the post, and to make sure, hadcarried them to the tavern himself."And now, sirs, let us get about this business," he finished,like one who calls his assistants to a labor:My father turned about and looked at the man."Is your name Gosford?" he said in his cold, level voice."It is, sir," replied the Englishman, " - Anthony Gosford.""Well, Mr. Anthony Gosford," replied my father, "kindly close thedoor that you have opened."Lewis plucked out his snuffbox and trumpeted in his many-coloredhandkerchief to hide his laughter.The Englishman, thrown off his patronizing manner, hesitated,closed the door as he was bidden - and could not regain his fineair."Now, Mr. Gosford," my father went on, "why was this roomviolated as we see it?""It was searched for Peyton Marshall's will, sir," replied theman."How did you know that Marshall had a will?" said my father."I saw him write it," returned the Englishman, "here in this veryroom, on the eighteenth day of October, 1854.""That was two years ago," said my father. "Was the will here atMarshall's death?""It was. He told me on his deathbed.""And it is gone now?""It is," replied the Englishman."And now, Mr. Gosford," said my father, "how do you know thiswill is gone unless you also know precisely where it was?""I do know precisely where it was, sir," returned the man. "Itwas in the row of drawers on the right of the window where youstand - the second drawer from the top. Mr. Marshall put itthere when he wrote it, and he told me on his deathbed that itremained there. You can see, sir, that the drawer has beenrifled."My father looked casually at the row of mahogany drawers risingalong the end of the bookcase. The second one and the one abovewere open; the others below were closed."Mr. Gosford," he said, "you would have some interest in thiswill, to know about it so precisely.""And so I have," replied the man, "it left me a sum of money.""A large sum?""A very large sum, sir.""Mr. Anthony Gosford," said my father, "for what purpose didPeyton Marshall bequeath you a large sum of money? You are nokin; nor was he in your debt."The Englishman sat down and put his fingers together with ajudicial air."Sir," he began, "I am not advised that the purpose of a bequestis relevant, when the bequest is direct and unencumbered by thetestator with any indicatory words of trust or uses. This willbequeathes me a sum of money. I am not required by any provisionof the law to show the reasons moving the testator. Doubtless,Mr. Peyton Marshall had reasons which he deemed excellent forthis course, but they are, sir, entombed in the grave with him."My father looked steadily at the man, but he did not seem toconsider his explanation, nor to go any further on that line."Is there another who would know about this will?" he said."This effeminate son would know," replied Gosford, a sneer in theepithet, "but no other. Marshall wrote the testament in his ownhand, without witnesses, as he had the legal right to do underthe laws of Virginia. The lawyer," he added, "Mr. Lewis, willconfirm me in the legality of that.""It is the law," said Lewis. "One may draw up a holograph willif he likes, in his own hand, and it is valid without a witnessin this State, although the law does not so run in everycommonwealth.""And now, sir," continued the Englishman, turning to my father,"we will inquire into the theft of this testament."But my father did not appear to notice Mr. Gosford. He seemedperplexed and in some concern."Lewis," he said, "what is your definition of a crime?""It is a violation of the law," replied the lawyer."I do not accept your definition," said my father. "It is,rather, I think, a violation of justice - a violation ofsomething behind the law that makes an act a crime. I think," hewent on, "that God must take a broader view than Mr. Blackstoneand Lord Coke. I have seen a murder in the law that was, infact, only a kind of awful accident, and I have seen yourcatalogue of crimes gone about by feeble men with no intentexcept an adjustment of their rights. Their crimes, Lewis, weremerely errors of their impractical judgment."Then he seemed to remember that the Englishman was present."And now, Mr. Gosford," he said, "will you kindly ask youngMarshall to come in here?"The man would have refused, with some rejoinder, but my fatherwas looking at him, and he could not find the courage to resistmy father's will. He got up and went out, and presently returnedfollowed by the lad and Gaeki. The old country doctor sat downby the door, his leather case of bottles by the chair, his cloakstill fastened under his chin. Gosford went back to the tableand sat down with his writing materials to keep notes. The boystood.My father looked a long time at the lad. His face was grave, butwhen he spoke, his voice was gentle."My boy," he said, "I have had a good deal of experience in theexamination of the devil's work." He paused and indicated theviolated room. "It is often excellently done. His disciples areextremely clever. One's ingenuity is often taxed to trace outthe evil design in it, and to stamp it as a false piece set intothe natural sequence of events."He paused again, and his big shoulders blotted out the window."Every natural event," he continued, "is intimately connectedwith innumerable events that precede and follow. It has so manyserrated points of contact with other events that the human mindis not able to fit a false event so that no trace of the joinderwill appear. The most skilled workmen in the devil's shop areonly able to give their false piece a blurred joinder."He stopped and turned to the row of mahogany drawers beside him."Now, my boy," he said, "can you tell me why the one whoransacked this room, in opening and tumbling the contents of allthe drawers, about, did not open the two at the bottom of the rowwhere' I stand?""Because there was nothing in them of value, sir," replied thelad."What is in them?" said my father."Only old letters, sir, written to my father, when I was in Paris- nothing else.""And who would know that?" said my father.The boy went suddenly white."Precisely!" said my father. "You alone knew it, and when youundertook to give this library the appearance of a pillaged room,you unconsciously endowed your imaginary robber with the thingyou knew yourself. Why search for loot in drawers that containedonly old letters? So your imaginary robber reasoned, knowingwhat you knew. But a real robber, having no such knowledge,would have ransacked them lest he miss the things of value thathe searched for."He paused, his eyes on the lad, his voice deep and gentle."Where is the will?" he said.The white in the boy's face changed to scarlet. He looked amoment about him in a sort of terror; then he lifted his head andput back his shoulders. He crossed the room to a bookcase, tookdown a volume, opened it and brought out a sheet of foldedfoolscap. He stood up and faced my father and the men about theroom."This man," he said, indicating Gosford, "has no right to takeall my father had. He persuaded my father and was trusted byhim. But I did not trust him. My father saw this plan in alight that I did not see it, but I did not oppose him. If hewished to use his fortune to help our country in the thing whichhe thought he foresaw, I was willing for him to do it."But," he cried, "somebody deceived me, and I will not believethat it was my father. He told me all about this thing. I hadnot the health to fight for our country, when the time came, hesaid, and as he had no other son, our fortune must go to thatpurpose in our stead. But my father was just. He said that aportion would be set aside for me, and the remainder turned overto Mr. Gosford. But this will gives all to Mr. Gosford andleaves me nothing!"Then he came forward and put the paper in my father's hand.There was silence except for the sharp voice of Mr. Gosford."I think there will be a criminal proceeding here!"My father handed the paper to Lewis, who unfolded it and read italoud. It directed the estate of Peyton Marshall to be sold, thesum of fifty thousand dollars paid to Anthony Gosford and theremainder to the son."But there will be no remainder," cried young Marshall. "Myfather's estate is worth precisely that sum. He valued it verycarefully, item by item, and that is exactly the amount it cameto.""Nevertheless," said Lewis, "the will reads that way. It is inlegal form, written in Marshall's hand, and signed with hissignature, and sealed. Will you examine it, gentlemen? Therecan be no question of the writing or the signature."My father took the paper and read it slowly, and old Gaeki nosedit over my father's arm, his eyes searching the structure of eachword, while Mr. Gosford sat back comfortably in his chair likeone elevated to a victory."It is in Marshall's hand and signature," said my father, and oldGaeki, nodded, wrinkling his face under his shaggy eyebrows. Hewent away still wagging his grizzled head, wrote a memorandum onan envelope from his pocket, and sat down in, his chair.My father turned now to young Marshall."My boy," he said, "why do you say that some one has deceivedyou?""Because, sir," replied the lad, "my father was to leave metwenty thousand dollars. That was his plan. Thirty thousanddollars should be set aside for Mr. Gosford, and the remainderturned over to me.""That would be thirty thousand dollars to Mr. Gosford, instead offifty," said my father."Yes, sir," replied the boy; "that is the way my father said hewould write his will. But it was not written that way. It isfifty thousand dollars to Mr. Gosford, and the remainder to me.If it were thirty thousand dollars to Mr. Gosford, as my father,said his will would be, that would have left me twenty thousanddollars from the estate; but giving Mr. Gosford fifty thousanddollars leaves me nothing.""And so you adventured on a little larceny," sneered theEnglishman.The boy stood very straight and white."I do not understand this thing," he said, "but I do not believethat my father would deceive me. He never did deceive me in hislife. I may have been, a disappointment to him, but my fatherwas a gentle man." His voice went up strong and clear. "And Irefuse to believe that he would tell me one thing and doanother!"One could not fail to be impressed, or to believe that the boyspoke the truth."We are sorry," said Lewis, "but the will is valid and we cannotgo behind it."My father walked about the room, his face in reflection. Gosfordsat at his ease, transcribing a note on his portfolio. Old Gaekihad gone back to his chair and to his little case of bottles; hegot them up on his knees, as though he would be diverted byfingering the tools of his profession. Lewis was in plaindistress, for he held the law and its disposition to beinviolable; the boy stood with a find defiance, ennobled by thetrust in his father's honor. One could not take his stratagemfor a criminal act; he was only a child, for all his twenty yearsof life. And yet Lewis saw the elements of crime, and he knewthat Gosford was writing down the evidence.It was my father who broke the silence."Gosford," he said, "what scheme were you and Marshall about?""You may wonder, sir," replied the Englishman, continuing towrite at his notes; "I shall not tell you.""But I will tell you," said the boy. "My father thought that thestates in this republic could not hold together very much longer.He believed that the country would divide, and the South set up aseparate government. He hoped this might come about without awar. He was in horror of a war. He had traveled; he had seennations and read their history, and he knew what civil wars were.I have heard him say that men did not realize what they weretalking when they urged war."He paused and looked at Gosford."My father was convinced that the South would finally set up anindependent government, but he hoped a war might not follow. Hebelieved that if this new government were immediately recognizedby Great Britain, the North would accept the inevitable and therewould be no bloodshed. My father went to England with thisscheme. He met Mr. Gosford somewhere - on the ship, I think.And Mr. Gosford succeeded in convincing my father that if he hada sum of money he could win over certain powerful persons in theEnglish Government, and so pave the way to an immediaterecognition of the Southern Republic by Great Britain. Hefollowed my father home and hung about him, and so finally gothis will. My father was careful; he wrote nothing; Mr. Gosfordwrote nothing; there is no evidence of this plan; but my fathertold me, and it is true."My father stopped by the table and lifted his great shoulders."And so," he said, "Peyton Marshall imagined a plan like that,and left its execution to a Mr. Gosford!"The Englishman put down his pen and addressed my father."I would advise you, sir, to require a little proof for yourconclusions. This is a very pretty story, but it is prefaced byan admission of no evidence, and it comes as a special pleadingfor a criminal act. Now, sir, if I chose, if the bequestrequired it, I could give a further explanation, with moresubstance; of moneys borrowed by the decedent in his travels andto be returned to me. But the will, sir, stands for itself, asMr. Lewis will assure you."Young Marshall looked anxiously at the lawyer."Is that the law, sir?""It is the law of Virginia," said Lewis, "that a will by acompetent testator, drawn in form, requires no collateralexplanation to support it."My father seemed brought up in a cul-de-sac. His face was tenseand disturbed. He stood by the table; and now, as by accident,he put out his hand and took up the Japanese crystal supported bythe necks of the three bronze storks. He appeared unconscious ofthe act, for he was in deep reflection. Then, as though theweight in his hand drew his attention, he glanced at the thing.Something about it struck him, for his manner changed. He spreadthe will out on the table and began to move the crystal over it,his face close to the glass. Presently his hand stopped, and hestood stooped over, staring into the Oriental crystal, like thosepracticers of black art who predict events from what they pretendto see in these spheres of glass.Mr. Gosford, sitting at his ease, in victory, regarded my fatherwith a supercilious, ironical smile."Sir," he said, "are you, by chance, a fortuneteller?""A misfortune-teller," replied my father, his face still heldabove the crystal. "I see here a misfortune to Mr. AnthonyGosford. I predict, from what I see, that he will release thisbequest of moneys to Peyton Marshall's son.""Your prediction, sir," said Gosford, in a harder note, "is notlikely to come true.""Why, yes," replied my father, "it is certain to come true. Isee it very clearly. Mr. Gosford will write out a release, underhis hand and seal, and go quietly out of Virginia, and PeytonMarshall's son will take his entire estate.""Sir," said the Englishman, now provoked into a temper, "do youenjoy this foolery?""You are not interested in crystal-gazing, Mr. Gosford," repliedmy father in a tranquil voice. "Well, I find it most diverting.Permit me to piece out your fortune, or rather your misfortune,Mr. Gosford! By chance you fell in with this dreamer Marshall,wormed into his confidence, pretended a relation to great men inEngland; followed and persuaded him until, in his ill-health, yougot this will. You saw it written two years ago. When Marshallfell ill, you hurried here, learned from the dying man that thewill remained and where it was. You made sure by pretending towrite letters in this room, bringing your portfolio with ink andpen and a pad of paper. Then, at Marshall's death, you inquiredof Lewis for legal measures to discover the dead man's will. Andwhen you find the room ransacked, you run after the law."My father paused."That is your past, Mr. Gosford. Now let me tell your future. Isee you in joy at the recovered will. I see you pleased at yourforesight in getting a direct bequest, and at the care you urgedon Marshall to leave no evidence of his plan, lest theauthorities discover it. For I see, Mr. Gosford, that it wasyour intention all along to keep this sum of money for your ownuse and pleasure. But alas, Mr. Gosford, it was not to be! Isee you writing this release; and Mr. Gosford" - my father'svoice went up full and strong, - "I see you writing it interror-sweat on your face! ""The Devil take your nonsense!" cried the Englishman.My father stood up with a twisted, ironical smile."If you doubt my skill, Mr. Gosford, as a fortune, or rather amisfortune-teller I will ask Mr. Lewis and Herman Gaeki to tellme what they see."The two men crossed the room and stooped over the paper, while myfather held the crystal. The manner and the bearing of the menchanged. They grew on the instant tense and fired with interest."I see it!" said the old doctor, with a queer foreign expletive."And I," cried Lewis, "see something more than Peadleton'svision. I see the penitentiary in the distance."The Englishman sprang up with an oath and leaned across thetable. Then he saw the thing."My father's hand held the crystal above the (figures of thebequest written in the body of the will. The focused lens ofglass magnified to a great diameter, and under the vastenlargement a thing that would escape the eye stood out. The topcurl of a figure 3 had been erased, and the bar of a 5 added.One could see the broken fibers of the paper on the outline ofthe curl, and the bar of the five lay across the top of the threeand the top of the o behind it like a black lath tacked acrosstwo uprights.The figure 3 had been changed to 5 so cunningly is to deceive theeye, but not to deceive the vast magnification of the crystal.The thing stood out big and crude like a carpenter's patch.Gosford's face became expressionless like wood, his body rigid;then he stood up and faced the three men across the table."Quite so!" he said in his vacuous English voice. "Marshallwrote a 3 by inadvertence and changed it. He borrowed mypenknife to erase the figure."My father and Lewis gaped like men who see a penned-in beast slipout through an unimagined passage. There was silence. Thensuddenly, in the strained stillness of the room, old Doctor Gaekilaughed.Gosford lifted his long pink face, with its cropped beardbringing out the ugly mouth."Why do you laugh, my good man?" he said."I laugh," replied Gaeki, "because a figure 5 can have so manycolors."And now my father and Lewis were no less astonished than Mr.Gosford."Colors!" they said, for the changed figure in the will wasblack."Why, yes," replied the old man, "it is very pretty."He reached across the table and drew over Mr. Gosford'smemorandum beside the will."You are progressive, sir," he went on; "you write iniron-nutgall ink, just made, commercially, in this year offifty-six by Mr. Stephens. But we write here as Marshall wrotein 'fifty-four, with logwood."He turned and fumbled in his little case of bottles."I carry a bit of acid for my people's indigestions. It hasother uses." He whipped out the stopper of his vial and dabbedGosford's notes and Marshall's signature."See!" he cried. "Your writing is blue, Mr. Gosford, andMarshall's red!"With an oath the trapped man struck at Gaeki's hand. The vialfell and cracked on the table. The hydrochloric acid spread outover Marshall's will. And under the chemical reagent the figurein the bequest of fifty thousand dollars changed beautifully; thebar of the 5 turned blue, and the remainder of it a deeppurple-red like the body of the will."Gaeki," cried my father, "you have trapped a rogue!""And I have lost a measure of good acid," replied the old man.And he began to gather up the bits of his broken bottle from thetable.
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