Complete Works of Wilkie Collins (1973 page)

           
Joey
(
very slowly and earnestly
). They do say, that the man as gets by accident a piece of that dark growth right upon his breast —
 
—

           
Vendale
. Right upon his breast —
 
—

           
Joey
(
as before
). —
 
— will for sure and certain —
 
—

           
Vendale
. For sure and certain —
 
—

           
Joey
. (
in low warning tones
). —
 
— die by Murder. (
Suddenly striking
V
ENDALE
on the breast
,
with a cry of horror
.) By the Lord! you’ve got a bit of it on
you!

           
Vendale
. A bit of it on
me?
Yes! there it is on the ground.

           
Joey
(
holding up the cellar lamp
,
and disclosing a large red stain on the front of
V
ENDALE’S
shirt
). And there’s the mark on your shirt — as red as blood!

(O
BENREIZER
suddenly appears before them
.)

           
Vendale
. (
starting
). What do you want here?

           
Obenreizer
. (
speaking with marked seriousness and restraint
). I owe you an apology, Mr. Vendale — and I have come here to make it. I don’t alter the terms on which I give you my ward in marriage. But I regret the violence of language and manner with which those terms were imposed on you. I ask your pardon. (
Holds out his hand
.) Will you shake hands with me?

           
Vendale
. Mr. Obenreizer, I accept your apology! (
Takes his hand
,
and drops it
,
shuddering
.) Excuse my noticing it — your hand is very cold.

           
Obenreizer
. (
gravely
). A heavy heart makes a cold hand, Mr. Vendale. Another errand brings me here, besides my errand of apology. There is sad reason for my saying the words which have made us friends again.

           
Vendale
. What is it?

           
Obenreizer
. I have earned the right to offer you my sympathy — and I do offer it. A message came to my house, soon after you had left, summoning us both to Mr. Wilding’s presence. I presumed you had gone to him before me — I followed you, as I thought, to the house here. Nothing had been heard of you; and I came to the cellars to inquire for you myself. Mr. Vendale! rouse your courage. I bring miserable news.

           
Vendale
. Wilding? Let me go to him directly!

           
Obenreizer
. Wait! He has had a second fit.

           
Vendale
. Dead?

           
Obenreizer
. Dead!

           
Vendale
.
Oh, my poor Walter! My dear, dear friend! (
A pause
. V
ENDALE
turns to
J
OEY
,
and points to the stain on the front of his shirt
.) You said this was a warning of death. How little we thought that your superstition would come true!

           
Joey
. I said more than that, Master George! Death was not the word.                           

           
Vendale
. What
was
the word?

           
Joey
. Murder.

THE END OF THE SECOND ACT
.

ACT III.

(
In Three Scenes
.)

F
IRST
S
CENE
. —
The Counting-house at Cripple Corner. A door at the side. A door in the flat scene
,
opening on the court-yard of the First Act
. V
ENDALE
and
S
ALLY
G
OLDSTRAW
discovered
.
They are both dressed in mourning
.

           
Sally
. Have you any more orders to give me, sir?

           
Vendale
. No. — Stop! I have a question to ask you. Now that poor Wilding is buried, many things occur to me, which it was impossible to think of when we first felt the calamity of his death. How came Mr. Obenreizer to be present at his last moments?

           
Sally
. Mr. Wilding insisted, sir, on sending for Mr. Obenreizer — I don’t know why.

           
Vendale
. It seems strange, certainly! What could there be in common between them? On the first day of Mr. Obenreizer’s arrival in England, I remember poor Wilding looking at him with an appearance of extraordinary interest, and speaking to Mr. Bintrey in a very earnest way. My attention was occupied at the time; and I paid no heed to what passed between them. — Tell me exactly what happened, Sally, on the day of Mr. Wilding’s death.

           
Sally
. I sent for Mr. Obenreizer, sir, and I sent for you — I did it to pacify my poor master. The messenger found Mr. Obenreizer at home; but nobody knew where to find
you
.

           
Vendale
. I had bad news to tell my poor friend; and I purposely kept out of the way of telling it. — Go on.

           
Sally
. Mr. Wilding got more and more disturbed in his mind, sir, while the messenger was gone. I sent for the doctor; and the doctor persuaded him to get to bed. But there was no quieting him that way. He insisted on knowing it, when Mr. Obenreizer came alone to the house. He declared he would leave his bed, and go down-stairs — unless Mr. Obenreizer was brought up to see him. The doctor said to me, “The risk of irritating him, in his present state, is the worst risk of all. Let the person come up.”

           
Vendale
. Well?

           
Sally
. The moment Mr. Obenreizer came into the room, sir, my poor master started up in his bed, and looked at his visitor with a dreadful eagerness, and fought and struggled for breath to speak. The doctor ordered Mr. Obenreizer out of the room again instantly. It was too late. The only sound that passed Mr. Wilding’s lips was the sound of your name, sir. The fit took him the moment after, and it was all over. He spoke in a thick, husky way — but I am sure he spoke your name.

           
Vendale
. I don’t doubt it, Sally. I am charged by his will to accomplish the one object which we all know he had at heart — the finding of the lost namesake, whose place he had innocently usurped. The uppermost thought in his mind, when he felt death coming, was to rely on
me
. My poor dead friend — I will be true to your trust! If the lost man lives, you shall not have reckoned on my help in vain! (
A knock is heard at the door leading into the yard
.) Who’s there?

(J
OEY
L
ADLE
opens the door. He carries a letter in his hand
.)

           
Joey
. Me, sir.

           
Vendale
. Wait one moment. (J
OEY
waits at the door
. V
ENDALE
turns to
S
ALLY
.) One last question. Did Mr. Obenreizer make any remark, when he was first told of Wilding’s death?

           
Sally
. He only said, sir, that he was shocked to hear of it; and that he would go and break the news to you.

           
Vendale
. The mystery of what Wilding wanted with him remains as impenetrable as ever. Perhaps time may clear it up, Sally! (
Turns to
J
OEY
.) Well — what is it?

           
Joey
(
advancing
). A letter, sir, from foreign parts.

           
Vendale
. (
taking the letter
). From our correspondents in Switzerland! From Defresnier and Company, the wine-merchants of Neuchâtel! (
Opens and reads the letter
.)

           
Joey
(
to
S
ALLY
). Do you find yourself a little easier, Miss, now they’ve put poor Master Wilding in the ground? There’s no consolation going, like the consolation of a funeral — provided the undertaker does his duty.

           
Sally
. We must all learn to submit to our losses in this world, Mr. Joey. I am learning, I hope, to submit to mine.

(
She goes out by the side door
.)

           
Joey
(
looking after her
). Beautiful language! The parson himself couldn’t have put it prettier than that! (
Trying to repeat
S
ALLY’S
words
.) I’ll say it over again, after her, like the catechism. “We must all submit to learning, Mr. Joey — which is one of our losses in this world.” Lord! how true!

           
Vendale
. (
crushing the letter in his hand
). Another misfortune, coming close on Wilding’s death! A loss of five hundred pounds, at the time of all others when money is of most consequence to me!

           
Joey
. Anything wrong, Master Vendale?

           
Vendale
. As wrong as can be, Joey.

           
Joey
. Ah! I said it would come. “You’ve been and changed the name of the firm; mind you haven’t been and changed the luck of the firm!” My own words to him as is gone. It’s foreign to my nature, Master George, to crow over the house I serve. Please to understand, I don’t set myself up for a prophet! (V
ENDALE
makes a gesture of impatience
.) You won’t get over it, that way, sir! You’d better open your heart to
me
. I know what’s at the bottom of this — it’s them six cases of red wine.

           
Vendale
. The devil take the six cases of red wine!

           
Joey
. The devil brought ‘em, sir! (V
ENDALE
withdraws to an office-desk
,
smoothes out the letter
,
takes other letters from the desk
,
and compares them one with the other
. J
OEY
goes on
.) Now let’s put the thing plainly. Here’s a large consignment of Swiss champagne comes to this house, from our foreign correspondents at the place they call Nooshattle. And among that consignment I find six cases of red wine that didn’t ought to be. I says to myself, “In the time of Pebbleson Nephew no mistake was ever made in a consignment delivered at these doors; the luck’s gone — Lord help us at Cripple Corner! the luck’s gone!” And what follows? You write out, sir, to tell ‘em at Nooshattle of the mistake. And they write back to you. Not satisfied on your side, you write again. Not satisfied on their side,
they
write again. There’s their letter on the desk before you, as full of bad news as an egg’s full of meat! And here am I that foretold it all — took it in, you may say, at the pores. Do I crow over the house I serve? No! Do I set myself up for a prophet? No! I return, with molloncolly steps, to the Wapours below — respectfully reminding you, sir, of what the precious woman, Miss Goldstraw, said just now. “We must all submit to losses, Mr. Joey — which is one of our learnings in this world.” Golden words, Master George. Take ‘em to heart, sir! take ‘em to heart!