Журнал «Моя история» №20/2015. ИД «Бурда»

FICTION: ATTEMPTED BY MY LORD... 201

       CHAPTER XLIV. FICTION: IMPROVED BY THE DOCTOR.. 206

       CHAPTER XLV. FACT: RELATED BY FANNY.. 208

       CHAPTER XLVI. MAN AND WIFE.. 211

       CHAPTER XLVII. THE PATIENT AND MY LORD... 215

       CHAPTER XLVIII. "THE MISTRESS AND THE MAID". 218

       CHAPTER XLIX. THE NURSE IS SENT AWAY.. 220

       CHAPTER L. IN THE ALCOVE.. 226

       CHAPTER LI. WHAT NEXT?. 233

       CHAPTER LII. THE DEAD MAN'S PHOTOGRAPH.. 236

       CHAPTER LIII. THE WIFE'S RETURN... 239

       CHAPTER LIV. ANOTHER STEP. 244

       CHAPTER LV. THE ADVENTURES OF A FAITHFUL MAID... 247

       CHAPTER LVI. FANNY'S NARRATIVE.. 257

       CHAPTER LVII. AT LOUVAIN... 261

       CHAPTER LVIII. OF COURSE THEY WILL PAY.. 265

       CHAPTER LIX. THE CONSEQUENCES OF AN ADVERTISEMENT 268

       CHAPTER LX. ON THE EVE OF A CHANGE.. 273

       CHAPTER LXI. THE LAST DISCOVERY.. 279

       CHAPTER LXII. THE BOARD OF DIRECTORS. 283

       CHAPTER LXIII. A REFUGE.. 290

       CHAPTER LXIV. THE INVINCIBLES. 293

       EPILOGUE.. 296

      PREFACE

      IN the month of August 1889, and in the middle of the seaside holiday, a message came to me from Wilkie Collins, then, though we hoped otherwise, on his death-bed.

      It was conveyed to me by Mr. A. P. Watt. He told me that his son had just come from Wilkie Collins: that they had been speaking of his novel, "Blind Love," then running in the Illustrated London News: that the novel was, unfortunately, unfinished: that he himself could not possibly finish it: and that he would be very glad, if I would finish it if I could find the time. And that if I could undertake this work he would send me his notes of the remainder. Wilkie Collins added these words: "If he has the time I think he will do it: we are both old hands at this work, and understand it, and he knows that I would do the same for him if he were in my place."

      Under the circumstances of the case, it was impossible to decline this request. I wrote to say that time should be made, and the notes were forwarded to me at Robin Hood's Bay. I began by reading carefully and twice over, so as to get a grip of the story and the novelist's intention, the part that had already appeared, and the proofs so far as the author had gone. I then turned to the notes. I found that these were not merely notes such as I expected—simple indications of the plot and the development of events, but an actual detailed scenario, in which every incident, however trivial, was carefully laid down: there were also fragments of dialogue inserted at those places where dialogue was wanted to emphasise the situation and make it real. I was much struck with the writer's perception of the vast importance of dialogue in making the reader seize the scene. Description requires attention: dialogue rivets attention.

      It is not an easy task, nor is it pleasant, to carry on another man's work: but the possession of this scenario lightened the work enormously. I have been careful to adhere faithfully and exactly to the plot, scene by scene, down to the smallest detail as it was laid down by the author in this book. I have altered nothing. I have preserved and incorporated every fragment of dialogue. I have used the very language wherever that was written so carefully as to show that it was meant to be used. I think that there is only one trivial detail where I had to choose because it was not clear from the notes what the author had intended. The plot of the novel, every scene, every situation, from beginning to end, is the work of Wilkie Collins. The actual writing is entirely his up to a certain point: from that point to the end it is partly his, but mainly mine. Where his writing ends and mine begins, I need not point out. The practised critic will, no doubt, at once lay his finger on the spot.

      I have therefore carried out the author's wishes to the best of my ability. I would that he were living still, if only to regret that he had not been allowed to finish his last work with his own hand!

      WALTER BESANT.

      THE PROLOGUE

      I

      SOON after sunrise, on a cloudy morning in the year 1881, a special messenger disturbed the repose of Dennis Howmore, at his place of residence in the pleasant Irish town of Ardoon.

      Well acquainted apparently with the way upstairs, the man thumped on a bed-room door, and shouted his message through it: "The master wants you, and mind you don't keep him waiting."

      The person sending this peremptory message was Sir Giles Mountjoy of Ardoon, knight and banker. The person receiving the message was Sir Giles's head clerk. As a matter of course, Dennis Howmore dressed himself at full speed, and hastened to his employer's private house on the outskirts of the town.

      He found Sir Giles in an irritable and anxious state of mind. A letter lay open on the banker's bed, his night-cap was crumpled crookedly on his head, he was in too great a hurry to remember the claims of politeness, when the clerk said "Good morning."

      "Dennis, I have got something for you to do. It must be kept a secret, and it allows of no delay."

      "Is it anything connected with business, sir?"

      The banker lost his temper. "How can you be such an infernal fool as to suppose that anything connected with business could happen at this time in the morning? Do you know the first milestone on the road to Garvan?"

      "Yes, sir."

      "Very well. Go to the milestone, and take care that nobody sees you when you get there. Look at the back of the stone. If you discover an Object which appears to have been left in that situation on the ground, bring it to me; and don't forget that the most impatient man in all Ireland is waiting for you."

      Not a word of explanation followed these extraordinary instructions.

      The head clerk set forth on his errand, with his mind dwelling on the national tendencies to conspiracy