Complete Works of Wilkie Collins (2018 page)

Fosco (to himself).
If the stone falls, I shall hear it now!

(SIR PERCIVAL
joins
FOSCO
at the other side of the table.)

Sir P.
Well?

Fosco.
Listen, Percival! You are a rich man by marriage. You would never have been that rich man, but for me.

Sir P.
You?

Fosco.
If Anne Catherick had opened her lips at Limmeridge, you would have been dismissed the house.
I
kept her out of the way. And
I
mean to reap the benefit of your profitable marriage.

Sir P.
You have seen Anne Catherick?

Fosco.
I have seen her.

Sir P. (rising threateningly).
You have questioned Anne Catherick?

Fosco.
Stoop down! Even the birds in their nests must not hear this.
(He pulls
SIR PERCIVAL
playfully towards him, and whispers in his ear.
SIR PERCIVAL
draws back panic-stricken.
FOSCO
continues as calm as ever.)
I know no more. I have discovered that you destroyed the register.
Why
you destroyed it, Anne could not tell me. Do you ask me as your friend not to inquire?

Sir P.
What’s the use of asking? You’ll set your trap, and find it out somehow.

Fosco (with genuine indignation).
Percival! Percival! Do you know me no better than that? I am a man of the antique type. My conception of friendship is sublime. Ask me, as your friend, to trample my curiosity under my foot.
(He rises and stamps on the ground.)
See! it is done. I, who could draw your inmost mind into daylight as I draw my two fingers out of the palm of my hand — I have no curiosity left. My exalted sentiments lift me above it. Recognise them, Percival! imitate them, Percival! Shake hands. I forgive you.

Sir P.
Are you cool again?

Fosco.
Go on.

Sir P.
Where is Anne Catherick now?

Fosco.
In this neighbourhood. And in private communication with your wife.

Sir P.
What!!!

Fosco.
There is no harm done yet. I have arranged to lay my hand on her to-night. To-morrow we will consult what to do with her next. In the mean time the business of the money presses. Percival! in spite of all that I could do to prevent you, you have insulted your wife. And, worse still, you have put Miss Halcombe on her guard.

Sir P. (contemptuously).
Miss Halcombe!

Fosco.
Yes! that grand creature — I drink her health in my sugar-and-water — that grand creature, who stands firm as a rock between us two, and that poor, pretty, flimsy, blonde wife of yours, sees into your inmost mind as I see into it! With that woman for my enemy, I — Fosco — cunning as the devil himself — I walk, in your English phrase, upon eggshells. And
you
set her at defiance! —
you
drive her to extremities! —
you,
who have not a tenth part of her brains, or a fiftieth part of her courage! Bah! let us get back to business. It’s useless to ask your wife to sign the deed as soon as to-morrow. Can you raise the money in no other way?

Sir P.
I can raise the money by bills at two months. But, when the bills fall due —
 
—

Fosco.
I see. Now, or in two months the money must be found,

Sir P.
That’s it.

(He empties his glass and returns into the drawing-room to fill it again.
FOSCO
sits thinking.
MARIAN
speaks at the window.)

Mar.
Nothing reaches me but a word here and there. The study window is open. I could hear them from the study. Shall I risk it?

(She stands hesitating.
FOSCO
speaks to
SIR PERCIVAL,
who is still in the drawing-room.)

Fosco.
Percival!

Sir P. (returning to the verandah).
What is it?

Fosco.
There was a serious discussion at Limmeridge House about your wife’s marriage portion, and how much of it, if a certain event happened, was to go to you. How did that discussion end?

Sir P.
That’s no business of yours.

Fosco (suddenly lowering his voice).
Suppose your wife dies?

Sir P.
Drop it, Fosco! you make my flesh creep.

Fosco.
Does flesh mean conscience? I will put my question in another way. Suppose you outlive Lady Glyde, how much of her marriage portion goes to you?

Sir P.
Only half of it. Thirty thousand pounds.

Fosco.
Thirty thousand pounds! You take my breath away.

Sir P.
None of your humbug. You get something too.

Fosco.
I!

Sir P.
Your wife, or you — it comes to the same thing. Madame Fosco gets ten thousand pounds under her brother’s will, if she outlives her niece.

(MARIAN
speaks at the window.)

Mar.
I
will
risk it!

(She disappears.)

Fosco (snapping his fingers).
Bah! I am quite easy about our money matters. We have two months to turn ourselves round in. Give yourself time to make your peace with Lady Glyde, and raise the money on the bills.

Sir P.
How is the money to be paid?

(MADAME FOSCO
appears at her window.)

Fosco.
In one of two ways. If your wife lives, you pay with her signature to the deed. If your wife dies, you pay with her death.

(MADAME FOSCO
throws the pebble out of her window.)

Sir P. (starting).
What’s that?

Fosco (aside).
The signal!
(To
SIR PERCIVAL.) Something has fallen from the verandah. (MARIAN
appears in the study, closing the door of the room after her.
FOSCO
continues)
Is your position towards your wife quite plain to you now?

Sir P.
No more of that, Fosco! I won’t have it.

Mar. (listening behind the study window).
I can hear every word plainly!

Sir P.
Come back to the other subject. I’m uneasy about Anne Catherick. You talk confidently enough about laying you hand on her. (MARIAN
starts.)
How do you mean to do it?

Fosco.
You shall hear. Give me a moment to fill my glass again.

(He makes a sign to
SIR PERCIVAL
to be silent, goes into the drawing-room, opens the door of the room, and looks about the passage; disappears, and reappears again the next moment, opening the study door, and surprising
MISS HALCOMBE,
who turns at the sound and finds herself face to face with him.)

Fosco.
Miss Halcombe! I beg ten thousand pardons. Were you looking for a book?

(MARIAN
stands speechless.
SIR PERCIVAL,
alarmed, enters the study from the verandah.)

Sir P.
Miss Halcombe! What’s the meaning of this?

Mar. (recovering herself).
I was not aware, Sir Percival, that your library was closed to ladies before the lights are put out. I won’t trouble you for the book, count.

(She leaves the room,
FOSCO
opening the door for her with a low bow.)

Sir P.
Fosco!

Fosco (coolly).
Yes?

Sir P.
Miss Halcombe was listening — Miss Halcombe has heard us!

Fosco.
Bah! they all listen. She has heard nothing to hurt.

Sir P.
I am not so sure of that. Where is she now? I shall go up-stairs and satisfy myself that she’s in her own room.

Fosco (shrugging his shoulders).
Do as you like. We have no more to say to each other to-night. (SIR PERCIVAL
goes out by the drawing-room.
FOSCO
looks at his watch.
ANNE CATHERICK,
wearing her brown cloak and hood over her white dress, appears at the side, on the left, and stops timidly.
FOSCO
continues.)
Eleven o’clock! I have just got him out of the way in time!

(He turns to leave the verandah. He and
ANNE
meet.
ANNE
utters a cry of alarm.)

Fosco.
Hush! hush! my good girl. It’s only me — your big, fat friend.

Anne.
I didn’t come here to see
you.

Fosco.
You came here to see Miss Halcombe. I will take you to Miss Halcombe.

(He draws her under the verandah. At the same
moment
SIR PERCIVAL
puts his head out of his own window, next to
MADAME FOSCO’S,
on the right, and calls down to
FOSCO.)

Sir P.
Fosco!

Anne (to herself).
Sir Percival!

(As the exclamation passes her lips she falls swooning into
FOSCO’S
arms.
FOSCO
carries her to the sofa on which
LADY GLYDE
has rested earlier in the Act.)

Fosco (to himself).
Fainting? Fainting may mean death, with such a malady as hers!

(He removes her cloak, lays her on the sofa, and places his hand on her heart.)

Sir P. (at the window).
Where are you?