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The Floating Press - Sheridan Le Fanu

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612 pages

English

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Description

He may have vast stores of family money at his disposal, but no one would accuse sleazy Walter Longcluse of being a noble gentleman. After worming his way into the good graces of the genteel Arden clan, Longcluse develops an unsettling obsession with their daughter, Alice. Will his ulterior motives be revealed before it's too late?

Informations

Publié par	The Floating Press
Date de parution	01 septembre 2014
Nombre de lectures	0
EAN13	9781776586547
Langue	English
Poids de l'ouvrage	2 Mo

Informations légales : prix de location à la page 0,0134€. Cette information est donnée uniquement à titre indicatif conformément à la législation en vigueur.

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CHECKMAT

* * *

SHERIDAN LE FANU

While every effort has been used to ensure the accuracy and reliability of the information contained in The Floating Press edition of this book, The Floating Press does not assume liability or responsibility for any errors or omissions in this book. The Floating Press does not accept responsibility for loss suffered as a result of reliance upon the accuracy or currency of information contained in this book. Do not use while operating a motor vehicle or heavy equipment. Many suitcases look alike.

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Con

Chapter I - Mortlake Hall Chapter II - Martha Tansey Chapter III - Mr. Longcluse Opens His Heart Chapter IV - Monsieur Lebas Chapter V - A Catastrophe Chapter VI - To Bed Chapter VII - Fast Friends Chapter VIII - Concerning a Boot Chapter IX - The Man Without a Name Chapter X - The Royal Oak Chapter XI - The Telegram Arrives Chapter XII - Sir Reginald Arden Chapter XIII - On the Road Chapter XIV - Mr. Longcluse's Boot Finds a Temporary Asylum Chapter XV - Father and Son Chapter XVI - A Midnight Meeting Chapter XVII - Mr. Longcluse at Mortlake Hall Chapter XVIII - The Party in the Dining-Room Chapter XIX - In Mrs. Tansey's Room Chapter XX - Mrs. Tansey's Story Chapter XXI - A Walk by Moonlight Chapter XXII - Mr. Longcluse Makes an Odd Confidence Chapter XXIII - The Meeting Chapter XXIV - Mr. Longcluse Follows a Shadow Chapter XXV - A Tete-a-Tete Chapter XXVI - The Garden at Mortlake Chapter XXVII - Winged Words

Chapter XXVIII - Stories About Mr. Longcluse Chapter XXIX - The Garden Party Chapter XXX - He Sees Her Chapter XXXI - About the Grounds Chapter XXXII - Under the Lime-Trees Chapter XXXIII - The Derby Chapter XXXIV - A Sharp Colloquy Chapter XXXV - Dinner at Mortlake Chapter XXXVI - Mr. Longcluse Sees a Lady's Note Chapter XXXVII - What Alice Could Say Chapter XXXVIII - Gentlemen in Trouble Chapter XXXIX - Between Friends Chapter XL - An Interview in the Study Chapter XLI - Van Appoints Himself to a Diplomatic Post Chapter XLII - Diplomacy Chapter XLIII - A Letter and a Summons Chapter XLIV - The Reason of Alice's Note Chapter XLV - Collision Chapter XLVI - An Unknown Friend Chapter XLVII - By the River Chapter XLVIII - Sudden News Chapter XLIX - Vows for the Future Chapter L - Uncle David's Suspicions Chapter LI - The Silhouette Chapter LII - Mr. Longcluse Employed Chapter LIII - The Night of the Funeral Chapter LIV - Among the Trees Chapter LV - Mr. Longcluse Sees a Friend Chapter LVI - A Hope Expires Chapter LVII - Levi's Apologue Chapter LVIII - The Baron Comes to Town Chapter LIX - Two Old Friends Meet and Part Chapter LX - "Saul" Chapter LXI - A Waking Dream

Chapter LXII - Love and Play Chapter LXIII - Plans Chapter LXIV - From Flower to Flower Chapter LXV - Behind the Arras Chapter LXVI - A Bubble Broken Chapter LXVII - Bond and Deed Chapter LXVIII - Sir Richard's Resolution Chapter LXIX - The Meeting Chapter LXX - Mr. Longcluse Proposes Chapter LXXI - Night Chapter LXXII - Measures Chapter LXXIII - At the Bar of the "Guy of Warwick" Chapter LXXIV - A Letter Chapter LXXV - Blight and Change Chapter LXXVI - Phoebe Chiffinch Chapter LXXVII - More News of Paul Davies Chapter LXXVIII - The Catacombs Chapter LXXIX - Resurrections Chapter LXXX - Another Chapter LXXXI - Broken Chapter LXXXII - Doppelganger Chapter LXXXIII - A Short Parting Chapter LXXXIV - At Mortlake Chapter LXXXV - The Crisis Chapter LXXXVI - Pursuit Chapter LXXXVII - Conclusion

Chapter I - Mortlake Hall

There stands about a mile and a half beyond Islington, unless it has come down within the last two years, a singular and grand old house. It belonged to the family of Arden, once distinguished in the Northumbrian counties. About fifty acres of ground, rich with noble clumps and masses of old timber, surround it; old-world fish-ponds, with swans sailing upon them, tall yew hedges, quincunxes, leaden fauns and goddesses, and other obsolete splendours surround it. It rises, tall, florid, built of Caen stone, with a palatial flight of steps, and something of the grace and dignity of the genius of Inigo Jones, to whom it is ascribed, with the shadows of ancestral trees and the stains of two centuries upon it, and a vague character of gloom and melancholy, not improved by some indications not actually of decay, but of something too like neglect.

pes the scene. The tall drawing-room the opposite walls, ssembled there.

It is now evening, and a dusky glow envelo setting sun throws its level beams, through windows, ruddily upon the Dutch tapestry on and not unbecomingly lights up the little party a

Good-natured, fat Lady May Penrose, in her bonnet, sips her tea and chats agreeably. Her carriage waits outside. You will ask who is that extremely beautiful girl who sits opposite, her large soft grey eyes gazing towards the western sky with a look of abstraction, too forgetful for a time of her company, leaning upon the slender hand she has placed under her cheek. How silken and golden-tinted the dark brown hair that grows so near her brows, making her forehead low, and marking with its broad line the

beautiful oval of her face! Is there carmine anywhere to match her brilliant lips? And when, recollecting something to tell Lady May, she turns on a sudden, smiling, how soft and pretty the dimples, and how even the little row of pearls she discloses!

This is Alice Arden, whose singularly handsome brother Richard, with some of her tints and outlines translated into masculine beauty, stands leaning on the back of a prie-dieu chair, and chatting gaily.

But who is the thin, tall man—the only sinister figure in the group—with one hand in his breast, the other on a cabinet, as he leans against the wall? Who is that pale, thin-lipped man, "with cadaverous aspect and broken beak," whose eyes never seem to light up, but maintain their dismal darkness while his pale lips smile? Those eyes are fixed on the pretty face of Alice Arden, as she talks to Lady May, with a strangely intense gaze. His eyebrows rise a little, like those of Mephistopheles, towards his temples, with an expression that is inflexibly sarcastic, and sometimes menacing. His jaw is slightly underhung, a formation which heightens the satirical effect of his smile, and, by contrast, marks the depression of his nose.

There was at this time in London a Mr. Longcluse, an agreeable man, a convenient man, who had got a sort of footing in many houses, nobody exactly knew how. He had a knack of obliging people when they really wanted a trifling kindness, and another of holding fast his advantage, and, without seeming to push, or ever appearing to flatter, of maintaining the acquaintance he had once founded. He looked about eight-and-thirty: he was really older. He was gentlemanlike, clever, and rich; but not a soul of all the men who knew him had ever heard of him at school or college. About his birth, parentage, and education, about his "life and adventures," he was dark.

How were his smart acquaintance made? Oddly, as we shall learn when we know him a little better. It was a great pity that there were some odd things said about this very agreeable, obliging, and gentlemanlike person. It was a pity that more was not known about him. The man had enemies, no doubt, and from the sort of reserve that enveloped him their opportunity arose. But were there not about town hundreds of men, well enough accepted, about whose early days no one cared a pin, and everything was just as dark?

Now Mr. Longcluse, with his pallid face, his flat nose, his sarcastic eyebrows, and thin-lipped smile, was overlooking this little company, his shoulder leaning against the frame that separated two pieces of the pretty Dutch tapestry which covered the walls.

"By-the-bye, Mr. Longcluse—you can tell me, for you always know everything," said Lady May—"is there still any hope of that poor child's recovering—I mean the one in that dreadful murder in Thames Street, where the six poor little children were stabbed?"

Mr. Longcluse smiled.

"I'm so glad, Lady May, I can answer you upon good authority! I stopped to-day to ask Sir Edwin Dudley that very question through his carriage window, and he said that he had just been to the hospital to see the poor little thing, and that it was likely to do well."

"I'm so glad! And what do they say can have been the motive of the murder?"

"Jealousy, they say; or else the man is mad."

"I should not wonder. I'm sure I hope he is. But they should take care to put him under lock and key."

"So they will, rely on it; that's a matter of course."

"I don't know how it is," continued Lady May, who was garrulous, "that murders interest people so much, who ought to be simply shocked at them."

"We have a murder in our family, you know," said Richard Arden.

"That was poor Henry Arden—I know," she answered, lowering her voice and dropping her eyes, with a side glance at Alice, for she did not know how she might like to hear it talked of.

"Oh, that happened when Alice was only five months old, I think," said Richard; and slipping into the chair beside Lady May, he laid his hand upon hers with a smile, and whispered, leaning towards her—

"You are always so thoughtful; it issonice of you!"

And this short speech ended, his eyes remained fixed for seconds, with a glow of tender admiration, on those of fat May, who simpered with effusion, and did not draw her hand until she thought she saw Mr. Longcluse glance their way.

some Lady away

It was quite true, all he said of Lady May. It would not be easy to find a simpler or more good-natured person. She was very rich also, and, it was said by people who love news and satire, had long been willing to share her gold and other chattels with handsome Richard Arden, who being but five-and-twenty, might very nearly have been her son.

"I remember that horrible affair," said Mr. Longcluse, with a little shrug and a shake of his head. "Where was I then—Paris or Vienna? Paris it was. I recollect it all now, for my purse was stolen