The Works of Robert Louis Stevenson - Swanston Edition, Vol. 05Stevenson, Robert Louis
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The Works of Robert Louis Stevenson - Swanston Edition, Vol. 05
Stevenson, Robert Louis
English literature -- 19th century; Fiction
He was thus standing, the tell-tale coat upon his back, the
incriminating paper in his hand, when the door opened and the tall
lodger, with a firm but somewhat pallid face, stepped into the room and
closed the door again behind him. For some time the two looked upon each
other in perfect silence; then Mr. Jones moved forward to the table,
took a seat, and, still without once changing the direction of his eyes,
addressed the young man.
"You are right," he said. "It is for me the blood money is offered. And
now what will you do?"
It was a question to which Somerset was far from being able to reply.
Taken as he was at unawares, masquerading in the man's own coat, and
surrounded by a whole arsenal of diabolical explosives, the keeper of
the lodging-house was silenced.
"Yes," resumed the other, "I am he. I am that man, whom with impotent
hate and fear they still hunt from den to den, from disguise to
disguise. Yet, my landlord, you have it in your power, if you be poor,
to lay the basis of your fortune; if you be unknown, to capture honour
at one snatch. You have hocussed an innocent widow; and I find you here
in my apartment, for whose use I pay you in stamped money, searching my
wardrobe, and your hand--shame, sir!--your hand in my very pocket. You
can now complete the cycle of your ignominious acts, by what will be at
once the simplest, the safest, and the most remunerative." The speaker
paused as if to emphasise his words; and then, with a great change of
tone and manner, thus resumed: "And yet, sir, when I look upon your
face, I feel certain that I cannot be deceived: certain that in spite of
all, I have the honour and pleasure of speaking to a gentleman. Take off
my coat, sir--which but cumbers you. Divest yourself of this confusion:
that which is but thought upon, thank God, need be no burthen to the
conscience; we have all harboured guilty thoughts; and if it flashed
into your mind to sell my flesh and blood, my anguish in the dock, and
the sweat of my death agony--it was a thought, dear sir, you were as
incapable of acting on, as I of any further question of your honour." At
these words the speaker, with a very open, smiling countenance, like a
forgiving father, offered Somerset his hand.
It was not in the young man's nature to refuse forgiveness or dissect
generosity. He instantly, and almost without thought, accepted the
proffered grasp.
"And now," resumed the lodger, "now that I hold in mine your loyal hand,
I lay by my apprehensions, I dismiss suspicion, I go further--by an
effort of will, I banish the memory of what is past. How you came here,
I care not: enough that you are here--as my guest. Sit ye down; and let
us, with your good permission, improve acquaintance over a glass of
excellent whisky."
So speaking, he produced glasses and a bottle; and the pair pledged each
other in silence.
"Confess," observed the smiling host, "you were surprised at the
appearance of the room."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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