'The
cautious Baron listens--but gives no
positive opinion, as yet.
"See what you can do with the Courier," he says; "and I will decide
when I hear the result. One
valuable hint I may give you before you go.
Your man is easily tempted by money--if you only offer him enough.
The other day, I asked him, in jest, what he would do for a
thousand pounds. He answered, 'Anything.' Bear that in mind; and offer
your highest bid without bargaining."
'The scene changes to the Courier's room, and shows the poor wretch
with a
photographicportrait of his wife in his hand, crying.
The Countess enters.
'She
wisely begins by sympathising with her contemplated accomplice.
He is duly
grateful; he confides his sorrows to his
gracious mistress.
Now that he believes himself to be on his death-bed, he feels remorse
for his neglectful
treatment of his wife. He could
resign himself to die;
but
despair overpowers him when he remembers that he has saved no money,
and that he will leave his widow, without resources, to the mercy of
the world.
'On this hint, the Countess speaks. "Suppose you were asked to do
a
perfectly easy thing," she says; "and suppose you were
rewarded for
doing it by a present of a thousand pounds, as a
legacy for your widow?"
'The Courier raises himself on his pillow, and looks at the Countess
with an expression of
incredulous surprise. She can hardly be
cruel enough (he thinks) to joke with a man in his
miserable plight.
Will she say
plainly what this
perfectly easy thing is, the doing
of which will meet with such a
magnificentreward?
'The Countess answers that question by confiding her project
to the Courier, without the slightest reserve.
'Some minutes of silence follow when she has done. The Courier
is not weak enough yet to speak without stopping to think first.
Still keeping his eyes on the Countess, he makes a quaintly
insolent remark on what he has just heard. "I have not hitherto
been a religious man; but I feel myself on the way to it.
Since your ladyship has
spoken to me, I believe in the Devil."
It is the Countess's interest to see the
humorous side of this
confession of faith. She takes no offence. She only says,
"I will give you half an hour by yourself, to think over my proposal.
You are in danger of death. Decide, in your wife's interests, whether you
will die worth nothing, or die worth a thousand pounds."
'Left alone, the Courier
seriously considers his position--
and decides. He rises with difficulty; writes a few lines on a leaf
taken from his pocket-book; and, with slow and faltering steps,
leaves the room.
'The Countess, returning at the expiration of the half-hour's
interval,
finds the room empty. While she is wondering, the Courier opens
the door. What has he been doing out of his bed? He answers,
"I have been protecting my own life, my lady, on the bare chance
that I may recover from the bronchitis for the third time.
If you or the Baron attempts to hurry me out of this world,
or to
deprive me of my thousand pounds
reward, I shall tell the doctor
where he will find a few lines of
writing, which describe your
ladyship's plot. I may not have strength enough, in the case supposed,
to
betray you by making a complete
confession with my own lips;
but I can employ my last
breath to speak the half-dozen words
which will tell the doctor where he is to look. Those words,
it is
needless to add, will be addressed to your Ladyship, if I find
your engagements towards me
faithfully kept."
'With this audacious
preface, he proceeds to state the conditions on
which he will play his part in the
conspiracy, and die (if he does die)
worth a thousand pounds.
'Either the Countess or the Baron are to taste the food and drink
brought to his
bedside, in his presence, and even the medicines which
the doctor may
prescribe for him. As for the promised sum of money,
it is to be produced in one bank-note, folded in a sheet of paper,
on which a line is to be written, dictated by the Courier.
The two enclosures are then to be sealed up in an envelope,
addressed to his wife, and stamped ready for the post. This done,
the letter is to be placed under his pillow; the Baron or the Countess
being at liberty to satisfy themselves, day by day, at their own time,
that the letter remains in its place, with the seal unbroken,
as long as the doctor has any hope of his patient's
recovery.
The last stipulation follows. The Courier has a
conscience; and with
a view to keeping it easy, insists that he shall be left in ignorance
of that part of the plot which relates to the sequestration of my Lord.
Not that he cares particularly what becomes of his miserly master--