Mr. Fortescue by William Westall

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The moment I set eyes on the beast I saw she was a screw, "and vicious at
that," as an American would have said. But as she had been bought (without
warranty) and paid for, I had to make the best of her. Within an hour of
the mare's arrival at Red Chimneys, I was on her back, trying her paces.
She galloped well and jumped splendidly, but I feared from her ways that
she would be hot with hounds, and perhaps, kick in a crowd, one of the
worst faults that a hunter can possess.

On the next non-hunting day I took Tickle-me-Quick out for a long ride in
the country, to see how she shaped as a hack. I little thought, as we set
off, that it would prove to be her last journey, and one of the most
memorable events of my life.

For a while all went well. The mare wanted riding, yet she behaved no
worse than I expected, although from the way she laid her ears back and
the angry tossing of her head when I made her feel the bit, she was
clearly not in the best of tempers. But I kept her going; and an hour
after leaving Red Chimneys we turned into a narrow deep lane between high
banks, which led to Kingscote entering the road on the west side of the
park at right angles, and very near Mr. Fortescue's lodge-gates.

In the field to my right several colts were grazing, and when they caught
sight of Tickle-me-Quick trotting up the lane they took it into their
heads to have an impromptu race among themselves. Neighing loudly, they
set off at full gallop. Without asking my leave, Tickle-me-Quick followed
suit. I tried to stop her. I might as well have tried to stop an
avalanche. So, making a virtue of necessity, I let her go, thinking that
before she reached the top of the lane she would have had quite enough,
and I should be able to pull her up without difficulty.

The colts are soon left behind; but we can hear them galloping behind us,
and on goes the mare like the wind. I can now see the end of the lane, and
as the great park wall, twelve feet high, looms in sight, the horrible
thought flashes on my mind that unless I pull her up we shall both be
dashed to pieces; for to turn a sharp corner at the speed we are going is
quite out of the question.

I make another effort, sawing the mare's mouth till it bleeds, and
tightening the reins till they are fit to break.

All in vain; she puts her head down and gallops on, if possible more madly
than before. Still larger looms that terrible wall; death stares me in the
face, and for the first time in my life I undergo the intense agony of
mortal terror.

We are now at the end of the lane. There is one chance only, and that the
most desperate, of saving my life. I slip my feet from the stirrups, and
when Tickle-me-Quick is within two or three strides of the wall, I drop
the reins and throw myself from her back. Then all is darkness.

CHAPTER III.

MR. FORTESCUE'S PROPOSAL.

"Where am I?"

I feel as if I were in a strait-jacket. One of my arms is immovable, my
head is bandaged, and when I try to turn I suffer excruciating pain.

"Where am I?"

"Oh, you have wakened up!" says somebody with a foreign accent, and a dark
face bends over me. The light is dim and my sight weak, and but for his
grizzled mustache I might have taken the speaker for a woman, his ears
being adorned with large gold rings.

"Where are you? You are in the house of Senor Fortescue."

"And the mare?"

"The mare broke her wicked head against the park wall, and she has gone to
the kennels to be eaten by the dogs."

"Already? How long is it since?"

"It was the day before yesterday zat it happened."

"God bless me! I must have been insensible ever since. That means
concussion of the brain. Am I much damaged otherwise, do you know?"

"Pretty well. Your left shoulder is dislocated, one of your fingers and
two of your ribs broken, and one of your ankles severely contused. But it
might have been worse. If you had not thrown yourself from your horse, as
you did, you would just now be in a coffin instead of in this comfortable
bed."

"Somebody saw me, then?"

"Yes, the lodge-keeper. He thought you were dead, and came up and told us;
and we brought you here on a stretcher, and the Senor Coronel sent for a
doctor--"

"The Senor Coronel! Do you mean Mr. Fortescue?"

"Yes, sir, I mean Mr. Fortescue."

"Then you are Ramon?"

"_Hijo de Dios!_ You know my name."

"Yes, you are Mr. Fortescue's body-servant."

"Caramba! Somebody must have told you."

"You might have made a worse guess, Senor Ramon. Will you please tell Mr.
Fortescue that I thank him with all my heart for his great kindness, and
that I will not trespass on it more than I can possibly help. As soon as I
can be moved I shall go to my own place."

"That will not be for a long time, and I do not think the Senor Coronel
would like--But when he returns he will see you, and then you can tell him
yourself."

"He is away from home, then?"

"The Senor Coronel has gone to London. He will be back to-morrow."

"Well, if I cannot thank him to-day, I can thank you. You are my nurse,
are you not?"

"A little--Geist and I, and Mees Tomleenson, we relieve each other. But
those two don't know much about wounds."

"And you do, I suppose?"

"_Hijo de Dios!_ Do I know much about wounds? I have nursed men who have
been cut to pieces. I have been cut to pieces myself. Look!"

And with that Ramon pointed to his neck, which was seamed all the way down
with a tremendous scar; then to his left hand, which was minus two
fingers; next to one of his arms, which appeared to have been plowed from
wrist to elbow with a bullet; and lastly to his head, which was almost
covered with cicatrices, great and small.

"And I have many more marks in other parts of my body, which it would not
be convenient to show you just now," he said, quietly.

"You are an old soldier, then, Ramon?"

"Very. And now I will light myself a cigarette, and you will no more talk.
As an old soldier, I know that it is bad for a _caballero_ with a broken
head to talk so much as you are doing."

"As a surgeon, I know you are right, and I will talk no more for the
present."

And then, feeling rather drowsy, I composed myself to sleep. The last
thing I remembered before closing my eyes was the long, swarthy,
quixotic-looking face of my singular nurse, veiled in a blue cloud of
cigarette-smoke, which, as it rolled from the nostrils of his big,
aquiline nose, made those orifices look like the twin craters of an active
volcano, upside down.

When, after a short snooze, I woke a second time, my first sensation was
one of intense surprise, and being unable, without considerable
inconvenience, to rub my eyes, I winked several times in succession to
make sure that I was not dreaming; for while I slept the swart visage,
black eyes, and grizzled mustache of my nurse had, to all appearance, been
turned into a fair countenance, with blue eyes and a tawny head, while the
tiny cigarette had become a big meerschaum pipe.

"God bless me! You are surely not Ramon?" I exclaimed.

"No; I am Geist. It is my turn of duty as your nurse. Can I get you
anything?"

"Thank you very much; you are all very kind. I feel rather faint, and
perhaps if I had something to eat it might do me good."

"Certainly. There is some beef-tea ready. Here it is. Shall I feed you?"

"Thank you. My left arm is tied up, and this broken finger is very
painful. Bat I am giving you no end of trouble. I don't know how I shall
be able to repay you and Mr. Fortescue for all your kindness."

"_Ach Gott!_ Don't mention it, my dear sir. Mr. Fortescue said you were to
have every attention; and when a fellow-man has been broken all to pieces
it is our duty to do for him what we can. Who knows? Perhaps some time I
may be broken all to pieces myself. But I will not ride your fiery horses.
My weight is seventeen stone, and if I was to throw myself off a galloping
horse as you did, _ach Gott!_ I should be broken past mending."

Mr. Geist made an attentive and genial nurse, discoursing so pleasantly
and fluently that, greatly to my satisfaction (for I was very weak), my
part in the conversation was limited to an occasional monosyllable; but he
said nothing on the subject as to which I was most anxious for
information--Mr. Fortescue--and, as he clearly desired to avoid it, I
refrained from asking questions that might have put him in a difficulty
and exposed me to a rebuff.

I found out afterward that neither he nor Ramon ever discussed their
master, and though Mrs. Tomlinson, my third nurse (a buxom, healthy,
middle-aged widow, whose position seemed to be something between that of
housekeeper and upper servant), was less reticent, it was probably because
she had so little to tell.

I learned, among other things, that the habits of the household were
almost as regular as those of a regiment, and that the servants, albeit
kindly treated and well paid, were strictly ruled, even comparatively
slight breaches of discipline being punished with instant dismissal. At
half-past ten everybody was supposed to be in bed, and up at six; for at
seven Mr. Fortescue took his first breakfast of fruit and dry toast.
According to Mrs. Tomlinson (and this I confess rather surprised me) he
was an essentially busy man. His only idle time was that which he gave to
sleep. During his waking hours he was always either working in his study,
his laboratory, or his conservatories, riding and driving being his sole
recreations.

"He is the most active man I ever knew, young or old," said Mrs.
Tomlinson, "and a good master--I will say that for him. But I cannot make
him out at all. He seems to have neither kith nor kin, and yet--This is
quite between ourselves, Mr. Bacon--"

"Of course, Mrs. Tomlinson, quite."

"Well, there is a picture in his room as he keeps veiled and locked up in
a sort of shrine; but one day he forgot to turn the key, and I--I looked."

"Naturally. And what did you see?"

"The picture of a woman, dark, but, oh, so beautiful--as beautiful as an
angel.... I thought it was, may be, a sweetheart or something, but she is
too young for the likes of him."

"Portraits are always the same; that picture may have been painted ages
ago. Always veiled is it? That seems very mysterious, does it not?"

"It does; and I am just dying to know what the mystery is. If you should
happen to find out, and it's no secret, would you mind telling me?"

At this point Herr Geist appeared, whereupon Mrs. Tomlinson, with true
feminine tact, changed the subject without waiting for a reply.

During the time I was laid up Mr. Fortescue came into my room almost every
day, but never stayed more than a few minutes. When I expressed my sense
of his kindness and talked about going home, he would smile gravely, and
say:

"Patience! You must be my guest until you have the full use of your limbs
and are able to go about without help."

After this I protested no more, for there was an indescribable something
about Mr. Fortescue which would have made it difficult to contradict him,
even had I been disposed to take so ungrateful and ungracious a part.

At length, after a weary interval of inaction and pain, came a time when I
could get up and move about without discomfort, and one fine frosty day,
which seemed the brightest of my life, Geist and Ramon helped me
down-stairs and led me into a pretty little morning-room, opening into one
of the conservatories, where the plants and flowers had been so arranged
as to look like a sort of tropical forest, in the midst of which was an
aviary filled with parrots, cockatoos, and other birds of brilliant
plumage.

Geist brought me an easy-chair, Ramon a box of cigarettes and the "Times,"
and I was just settling down to a comfortable read and smoke, when Mr.
Fortescue entered from the conservatory. He wore a Norfolk jacket and a
broad-brimmed hat, and his step was so elastic, and his bearing so
upright, and he seemed so strong and vigorous withal, that I began to
think that in estimating his age at sixty I had made a mistake. He looked
more like fifty or fifty-five.

"I am glad to see you down-stairs," he said, helping himself to a
cigarette. "How do you feel?"

"Very much better, thank you, and to-morrow or the next day I must
really--"

"No, no, I cannot let you go yet. I shall keep you, at any rate, a few
days longer. And while this frost lasts you can do no hunting. How is the
shoulder?"

"Better. In a fortnight or so I shall be able to dispense with the sling,
but my ankle is the worst. The contusion was very severe. I fear that I
shall feel the effects of it for a long time."

"That is very likely, I think. I would any time rather have a clean flesh
wound than a severe contusion. I have had experience of both. At Salamanca
my shoulder was laid open with a sabre-stroke at the very moment my horse
was shot under me; and my leg, which was terribly bruised in the fall, was
much longer in getting better than my shoulder."

"At Salamanca! You surely don't mean the battle of Salamanca?"

"Yes, the battle of Salamanca."

"But, God bless me, that is ages ago! At the beginning of the
century--1810 or 1812, or something like that."

"The battle of Salamanca was fought on the 21st of July, 1812," said my
host, with a matter-of-fact air.

"But--why--how?" I stammered, staring at him in supreme surprise. "That is
sixty years since, and you don't look much more than fifty now."

"All the same I am nearly fourscore," said Mr. Fortescue, smiling as if
the compliment pleased him.

"Fourscore, and so hale and strong! I have known men half your age not
half so vigorous and alert. Why, you may live to be a hundred."

"I think I shall, probably longer. Of course barring accidents, and if I
continue to avoid a peril which has been hanging over me for half a
century or so, and from which I have several times escaped only by the
skin of my teeth."

"And what is the peril, Mr. Fortescue?"

"Assassination."

"Assassination!"

"Yes, assassination. I told you a short time ago that I was once hunted by
a pack of hounds. I am hunted now--have been hunted for two
generations--by a family of murderers."

The thought occurred to me--and not for the first time--that Mr. Fortescue
was either mad or a Munchausen, and I looked at him curiously; but neither
in that calm, powerful, self-possessed face, nor in the steady gaze of
those keen dark eyes, could I detect the least sign of incipient insanity
or a boastful spirit.

"You are quite mistaken," he said, with one of his enigmatic smiles. "I am
not mad; and I have lived too long either to cherish illusions or conjure
up imaginary dangers."

"I--I beg your pardon, Mr. Fortescue--I had no intention," I stammered,
quite taken aback by the accuracy with which he had read, or guessed, my
thoughts--"I had no intention to cast a doubt on what you said. But who
are these people that seek your life? and why don't you inform the
police?"

"The police! How could the police help me?" exclaimed Mr. Fortescue, with
a gesture of disdain, "Besides, life would not be worth having at the
price of being always under police protection, like an evicting Irish
landlord. But let us change the subject; we have talked quite enough about
myself. I want to talk about you."

A very few minutes sufficed to put Mr. Fortescue in possession of all the
information he desired. He already knew something about me, and as I had
nothing to conceal, I answered all his questions without reserve.

"Don't you think you are rather wasting your life?" he asked, after I had
answered the last of them.

"I am enjoying it."

"Very likely. People generally do enjoy life when they are young. Hunting
is all very well as an amusement, but to have no other object in life
seems--what shall we say?--just a little frivolous, don't you think?"

"Well, perhaps it does; but I mean, after a while, to buy a practice and
settle down."

"But in the mean time your medical knowledge must be growing rather rusty.
I have heard physicians say that it is only after they have obtained their
degree that they begin to learn their profession. And the practice you get
on board these ships cannot amount to much."

"You are quite right," I said, frankly, for my conscience was touched. "I
am, as you say, living too much for the present. I know less than I knew
when I left Guy's. I could not pass my 'final' over again to save my life.
You are quite right: I must turn over a new leaf."

"I am glad to hear you say so, the more especially as I have a proposal to
make; and as I make it quite as much in my own interest as in yours, you
will incur no obligation in accepting it. I want you to become an inmate
of my house, help me in my laboratory, and act as my secretary and
domestic physician, and when I am away from home, as my representative.
You will have free quarters, of course; my stable will be at your disposal
for hunting purposes, and you may go sometimes to London to attend
lectures and do practical work at your hospital. As for salary--you can
fix it yourself, when you have ascertained by actual experience the
character of your work. What do you say?"

Mr. Fortescue put this question as if he had no doubt about my answer, and
I fulfilled his expectation by answering promptly in the affirmative. The
proposal seemed in every way to my advantage, and was altogether to my
liking; and even had it been less so I should have accepted it, for what I
had just heard greatly whetted my curiosity, and made me more desirous
than ever to know the history of the extraordinary man with whom I had so
strangely come in contact, and ascertain the secret of his wealth.

The same day I wrote to Alston announcing the dissolution of our
partnership, and leaving him to deal with the horses at Red Chimneys as he
might think fit.

CHAPTER IV.

A RESCUE.

My curiosity was rather long in being gratified, and but for a very
strange occurrence, which I shall presently describe, probably never would
have been gratified. Even after I had been a member of Mr. Fortescue's
household for several months, I knew little more of his antecedents and
circumstances than on the day when he made me the proposal which I have
just mentioned. If I attempted to lead up to the subject, he would either
cleverly evade it or say bluntly that he preferred to talk about something
else. Save as to matters that did not particularly interest me, Ramon was
as reticent as his master; and as Geist had only been with Mr. Fortescue
during the latter's residence at Kingscote, his knowledge, or, rather, his
ignorance was on a par with my own.

Mr. Fortescue's character was as enigmatic as his history was obscure. He
seemed to be destitute both of kinsfolk and friends, never made any
allusion to his family, neither noticed women nor discussed them. Politics
and religion he equally ignored, and, so far as might appear, had neither
foibles nor fads. On the other hand, he had three passions--science,
horses, and horticulture, and his knowledge was almost encyclopaedic. He
was a great reader, master of many languages, and seemed to have been
everywhere and seen all in the world that was worth seeing. His wealth
appeared to be unlimited, but how he made it or where he kept it I had no
idea. All I knew was that whenever money was wanted it was forthcoming,
and that he signed a check for ten pounds and ten thousand with equal
indifference. As he conducted his private correspondence himself, my
position as secretary gave me no insight into his affairs. My duties
consisted chiefly in corresponding with tradesmen, horse-dealers, and
nursery gardeners, and noting the results of chemical experiments.

Mr. Fortescue was very abstemious, and took great care of his health, and
if he was really verging on eighty (which I very much doubted), I thought
he might not improbably live to be a hundred and ten and even a hundred
and twenty. He drank nothing, whatever, neither tea, coffee, cocoa, nor
any other beverage, neither water nor wine, always quenching his thirst
with fruit, of which he ate largely. So far as I knew, the only liquid
that ever passed his lips was an occasional liquor-glass of a mysterious
decoction which he prepared himself and kept always under lock and key.
His breakfast, which he took every morning at seven, consisted of bread
and fruit.

He ate very little animal food, limiting himself for the most part to fish
and fowl, and invariably spent eight or nine hours of the twenty-four in
bed. We often discussed physiology, therapeutics, and kindred subjects, of
which his knowledge was so extensive as to make me suspect that some time
in his life he had belonged to the medical profession.

"The best physicians I ever met," he once observed, "are the Callavayas of
the Andes--if the preservation and prolongation of human life is the test
of medical skill. Among the Callavayas the period of youth is thirty
years; a man is not held to be a man until he reaches fifty, and he only
begins to be old at a hundred."

"Was it among the Callavayas that you learned the secret of long life, Mr.
Fortescue?" I asked.

"Perhaps," he answered, with one of his peculiar smiles; and then he
started me by saying that he would never be a "lean and slippered
pantaloon." When health and strength failed him he should cease to live.

"You surely don't mean that you will commit suicide?" I exclaimed, in
dismay.

"You may call it what you like. I shall do as the Fiji Islanders and some
tribes of Indians do, in similar circumstances--retire to a corner and
still the beatings of my heart by an effort of will."

"But is that possible?"

"I have seen it done, and I have done it myself--not, of course, to the
point of death, but so far as to simulate death. I once saved my life in
that way."

"Was that when you were hunted, Mr. Fortescue?"

"No, it was not. Let us go to the stables. I want to see you ride Regina
over the jumps."

Mr. Fortescue had caused to be arranged in the park a miniature
steeple-chase course about a mile round, on which newly-acquired hunters
were always tried, and the old ones regularly exercised. He generally made
a point of being present on these occasions, sometimes riding over the
course himself. If a horse, bought as a hunter, failed to justify its
character by its performance it was invariably returned.

Sometimes Ramon gave us an exhibition of his skill as a gaucho. One of the
wildest of the horses would be let loose in the park, and the old soldier,
armed with a lasso and mounted on an animal trained by himself, and
equipped with a South American saddle, would follow and try to "rope" the
runaway, Mr. Fortescue, Rawlings, and myself riding after him. It was
"good fun," but I fancy Mr. Fortescue regarded this sport, as he regarded
hunting, less as an amusement than as a means of keeping him in good
health and condition.

Regina (a recent purchase) was tried and, I think, found wanting. I recall
the instance merely because it is associated in my mind with an event
which, besides affecting a momentous change in my relations with Mr.
Fortescue and greatly influencing my own fortune, rendered possible the
writing of this book.

The trial over, Mr. Fortescue told me, somewhat abruptly, that he intended
to leave home in an hour, and should be away for several days. As he
walked toward the house, I inquired if there was anything he would like me
to look after during his absence, whereupon he mentioned several chemical
and electrical experiments, which he wished me to continue and note the
results. He requested me, further, to open all letters--save such as were
marked private or bore foreign postmarks--and answer so many of them as,
without his instructions, I might be able to do. For the rest, I was to
exercise a general supervision, especially over the stables and gardens.
As for purely domestic concerns, Geist was so excellent a manager that his
master trusted him without reserve.

When Mr. Fortescue came down-stairs, equipped for his journey, I inquired
when he expected to return, and on what day he would like the carriage to
meet him at the station. I thought he might tell me where he was going;
but he did not take the hint.

"If it rains I will telegraph," he said; "if fine, I shall probably walk;
it is only a couple of miles."

Mr. Fortescue, as he always did when he went outside his park (unless he
was mounted), took with him a sword-stick, a habit which I thought rather
ridiculous, for, though he was an essentially sane man, I had quite made
up my mind that his fear of assassination was either a fancy or a fad.

After my patron's departure I worked for a while in the laboratory; and an
hour before dinner I went for a stroll in the park, making, for no reason
in particular, toward the principal entrance. As I neared it I heard
voices in dispute, and on reaching the gates I found the lodge-keeper
engaged in a somewhat warm altercation with an Italian organ-grinder and
another fellow of the same kidney, who seemed to be his companion.

The lodge-keepers had strict orders to exclude from the park all beggars
without exception, and all and sundry who produced music by turning a
handle. Real musicians, however, were freely admitted, and often
generously rewarded.

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