The Lust of Hate - Guy Newell Boothby (english love story books txt) 📗

of eternal punishment

for swindling you as he did, he is going to endeavour to obtain a

mitigation of his sentence by leaving you at his death what he has

not been able to spend during his lifetime. If you die first, so much

the worse for him; but I imagine he is willing to risk that.”

 

I rose from my chair, this time thoroughly angered.

 

“Dr. Nikola,” I said, “this is a subject upon which I feel very

deeply. I have no desire to jest about it.”

 

“I am not jesting, my friend, I assure you,” returned Nikola, and,

as he said so, he went to an escritoire in the corner. “In proof that

what I say is the truth, here is a rough draft of his will, made

yesterday. You are at liberty to peruse it if you care to do so, and

as you are familiar with his writing, you can judge for yourself of

its worth.”

 

I took the paper from his hand and sat down with it in my chair

again. It certainly was what he had described, and in it I was named

as sole and undivided heir to all his vast wealth. As I read, my

anger rose higher and higher. From this paper it was evident that the

man knew he had swindled me, and it was also apparent that he was

resolved to enjoy the fruits of his villainy throughout his life, and

to leave me what he could not use when he died, and when I would, in

all human probability, be too old to enjoy it. I glanced at the paper

again, and then handed it back to Nikola, and waited for him to

speak. He watched me attentively for a few seconds, and then said in

a voice so soft and low that I could scarcely hear it—

 

“You Bee, if Bartrand were to be removed after he had signed that

you would benefit at once.”

 

I did not answer. Nikola waited for a few moments and then

continued in the same low tone—

 

“You hate the man. He has wronged you deeply. He stole your secret

while you were not in a position to defend yourself, and I think he

would have killed you had he dared to do so. Now he is enjoying the

fortune which should be yours. He is one of the richest men in the

world—with your money. He has made himself a name in England, even

in this short space of time—with your money. He is already a patron

of sport, of the drama, and of art of every sort—with your money. If

you attempt to dispute his possession, he will crush you like a worm.

Now the question for your consideration is: Do you hate him

sufficiently to take advantage of an opportunity to kill him if one

should come in your way?”

 

He had roused my hate to such a pitch that before I could control

myself I had hissed out “Yes!” He heard it, and when I was about to

protest that I did not mean it, held up his hand to me to be

silent.

 

“Listen to me,” he said. “I tell you candidly that it is in my

power to help you. If you really wish to rid yourself of this man, I

can arrange it for you in such a way that it will be impossible for

any one to suspect you. The chance of detection is absolutely

nil. You will be as safe from the law as you are at this

minute. And remember this, when you have rid yourself of him, his

wealth will be yours to enjoy just as you please. Think of his money

—think of the power it gives, think of the delight of knowing that

you have punished the man who has wronged you so shamefully. Are you

prepared to risk so much?”

 

My God! I can remember the horror of that moment even now. As I

write these words I seem to feel again the throbbing of the pulses in

my temples, the wild turmoil in my brain, the whirling mist before my

eyes. In extenuation, I can only hope that I was, for the time being,

insane. Shameful as it may be to say so, I know that while Nikola was

speaking, I hungered for that man’s death as a starving cur craves

for food.

 

“I don’t want his money,” I cried, as if in some small

extenuation of the unutterable shame of my decision. “I only want to

punish him—to be revenged upon him.”

 

“You consent, then?” he said quietly, pulling his chair a little

closer, and looking at me in a strange fashion.

 

As his eyes met mine all my own will seemed to leave me. I was

powerless to say anything but “Yes, I consent.”

 

Nikola rose to his feet instantly, and with an alertness that

surprised me after his previous langour.

 

“Very good,” he said; “now that that is settled, we can get to

business. If you will listen attentively, I will explain exactly how

it is to be done.”

 

CHAPTER II. A GREUSOME TALE.

 

“THERE are three things to be borne in mind,” said Nikola, when

I had recovered myself a little: “the first is the dependent

point, namely, that the man has to be, well, shall we call it,

relieved of the responsibility of his existence! Secondly, the deed

must be done at once; and, thirdly, it must be accomplished in such a

manner that no suspicion is aroused against you. Now, to you who know

the world, and England in particular, I need scarcely explain

that there are very few ways in which this can be done. If you

desire to follow the melodramatic course, you will decoy your enemy

to an empty house and stab him there; in that case, however, there

will, in all probability, be a tramp taking refuge in the coal cellar

who will overhear you, the marks of blood on the floor will give

evidence against you, and—what will be worse than all—there will be

the body to dispose of. It that procedure does not meet with

your approval, you might follow him about night after night until you

find an opportunity of effecting your purpose in some deserted

thoroughfare; but then you must take into consideration the fact that

there will always be the chance of his calling out, or in other ways

attracting the attention of the neighbourhood, or of someone coming

round the corner before you have quite finished. A railway train has

been tried repeatedly, but never with success; for there is an

increased difficulty in getting rid of the body, while porters and

ticket collectors have a peculiar memory for faces, and history shows

that whatever care you may take you are bound to be discovered sooner

or later. In his own house the man is as secure, or more so, than he

would be in the Tower of London; and even if you did manage to reach

him there, the betting would be something like a million to one that

you would be detected. No; none of these things are worthy of our

consideration. I came to this conclusion in another and similar case

in which my assistance was invoked three months ago. If one wants to

succeed in murder, as in anything else, one must endeavour to be

original.”

 

“For heaven’s sake, man, choose your words less carefully!” I

cried, with a sudden fierceness for which I could not afterwards

account. “You talk as if we were discussing an ordinary business

transaction.”

 

“And are we not?” he replied calmly, paying no attention to my

outburst of temper. “I am inclined to think we are. You desire to

revenge yourself upon a man who has wronged you. For a consideration

I find you the means of doing it. You want—I supply. Surely supply

and demand constitute the component parts of an ordinary business

transaction?”

 

“You said nothing just now about a consideration. What is it to

be?”

 

“We will discuss that directly.”

 

“No, not directly. Now! I must know everything before I hear more

of your plans.”

 

“By all means let us discuss it then. Properly speaking, I suppose

I should demand your soul as my price, and write the bond with a pen

dipped in your blood. But, though you may doubt it, I am not

Mephistopheles. My terms are fifty thousand pounds, to be paid down

within six months of your coming in to your money. I think you will

admit that that is a small enough sum to charge for helping a man to

obtain possession of nearly two millions. I don’t doubt our friend

Bartrand would pay three times as much to be allowed to remain on in

Park Lane. What do you think?”

 

The mere mention of Bartrand’s name roused me again to fury.

 

“You shall have the money,” I cried. “And much good may it do you.

Come what may, I will not touch a penny of it myself. I want to

punish him, not to get his fortune. Now what is your scheme?”

 

“Pardon me, one thing at a time if you please.”

 

He crossed to the escritoire standing in the corner of the room,

and from a drawer took a sheet of paper. Having glanced at it he

brought it to me with a pen and ink.

 

“Bead it, and when you have done so, sign. We will then proceed to

business.”

 

I glanced at it, and discovered that it was a legally drawn up

promise to pay Dr. Antonio Nikola fifty thousand pounds within six

months of my succeeding to the property of Richard Bartrand, of Park

Lane, London, and Chennington Castle, Shropshire, should such an

event ever occur. Dipping the pen into the ink I signed what he had

written, and then waited for him to continue. He folded up the paper

with great deliberation, returned it to its place in the escritoire,

and then seated himself opposite me again.

 

“Now I am with you hand and glove,” he said with a faint smile

upon his sallow face. “Listen to my arrangement. In considering the

question of murder I have thought of houses, trains, street

stabbings, poisonings, burnings, drowning, shipwreck, dynamite, and

even electricity; and from practical experience I have arrived at the

conclusion that the only sure way in which you can rid yourself of an

enemy is to do the deed in a hansom cab.”

 

“A hansom cab?” I cried. “You must be mad. How can that be safe at

all?”

 

“Believe me, it is not only the safest, but has been proved to be

the most successful. I will explain more fully, then you will be able

to judge of the beautiful simplicity of my plan for yourself. The cab

I have constructed myself after weeks of labour, in this very house;

it is downstairs now; if you will accompany me we will go and see

it.”

 

He rose from his chair, took up the lamp that stood upon the

table, and signed to me to follow him. I did so, down the stairs by

which he had ascended, and along the passage to a large room at the

rear of the building. Folding doors opened from it into the yard,

and, standing in the centre of this barn-like apartment, its shafts

resting on an iron trestle, was, a hansom cab of the latest pattern,

fitted with all the most up-to-date improvements.

 

“Examine it,” said Nikola, “and I think you will be compelled to

admit that it is as beautiful a vehicle as any man could wish to ride

in; get inside and try it for yourself.”

 

While he held the lamp