University of Virginia Library

15. CBAPTHER XV.
Introducing a new acquaintance and more mystery.

In despite of the privacy of life
sought by the Duke, his grace had numerous
visitors. While I was nominally
acting as secretary, although my
years and station gave me no intimacy
with these, yet the contact with so
many of high rank and position was
likely to be useful. Paul pointed out
to me the chance that this speaking
acquaintanceship with distinguished
personages might turn to account at
some time. I did not build on that,
but I felt that the casual conversations
I held with these men, all of them well-bred,
and the insensible example of
their manner, served to give me greater
personal confidence, and ease of demeanor.
My intimacies ran in another
way. Among Paul's many acquaintances
I found some who, without being
entirely congenial, attracted me. These
were artists and literary men half way
up the ladder of reputation—men who
had undergone a deal of privation on
the road to distinction, and who had a
certain gay and almost reckless manner
which amused me exceedingly.
Now and then some of them seemed to
remember that they had a body to care
for in this world, and even a soul to
care for in the world to come; but the
majority lived for to-day solely, taking
good and ill-fortune with philsophical
indifference. Paul, at first, was rather
uneasy at my taking so kindly to these
roistering fellows; but he possibly reflected
that I had no inclination to semi-vagabondism,
that I drank but sparingly,
and had the habits of quiet life,
for he soon ceased to trouble me with
advice about my companionship.

One afternoon I had been dawdling
about the studios of several artists,
and wound up by a visit to Paul's
apartments. The first thing that I noticed
there was a sketch in oil, which
I knew was not in Paul's style. It represented
a scene in an eastern court,
showing the audience given by the
ruler. So far there was nothing striking
about the composition. But what
was surprising was the fact that the
face and costume of the vizier beside
the throne was unmistakably that of
the Baganda Jawa, having even the
very pose of the figure in the portrait
at Landy's Castle.

“Wonder away, old fellow!” said
Paul, as he caught my eye, “you can't
possibly wonder more than I do.”

“But where did you get it, and what
does it mean?”

“I'll tell you where I got it. I received
a note yesterday from a German
artist, named Diemer. I never
heard of the man before. He said
that he was a stranger here, and in
distress; that he knew me by reputation,
and thought if I would call that
I could render him a service with little
inconvenience to myself. Well, I went.
He has miserable lodgings enough in
a house over in Milton street, up three
pair back. I found him in bed. He
said that he was subject to sudden attacks
of paralysis of the lower limbs,
accompanied by neuralgia in the face.
He had been taken off his pins the
week before, but expected the disease
would pass off in a day or so. He had
come to England from Dusseldorf, hoping
to find sale for his pictures, of
which he had two comyleted, together
with the studies for several more. The
pictures were not much—a little clever,
perhaps—both bearing the Dusseldorf
stamp, and both in entirely

different styles of treatment. This
sketch struck me more than the pictures.
He says it is a mere fancy picture,
but I don't believe it. I borrowed
it to show you. I tried to pump
him, but failed. And now you've had
the whole story.”

“I should like to see him.”

“So you shall. I am going to return
the sketch, and you can accompany
me. You must wait awhile, however,
as he prefers to receive visitors
at night it seems.”

At night-fall we started. The German
was found in a chair, into which
he told us he had been helped, and was
seated before an easel, on which was
an unfinished pictnre, with the paint
dry, as though no one had worked on
it recently.

I did not notice that particularly
then, but I recalled the fact afterward.
The artist himself made a rather queer
picture. His face and jaws were muffled
up in cloths, to sustain the anodyne
applications, as he told us, that
were necessary in his case. From
these his hair escaped in one or two
places, but all the features of his face
that were visible were his eyes, his
beard and heavy moustache, and a
huge, red nose. The face, or what little
we could see of it, was strange;
but the eyes seemed wondrous familiar,
though I could not tell where I
had seen them before.

I addressed the man in German, but
he spoke a kind of patois, very difficult
to make out. His English I could
understand better, so we used that.
Our conversation turned upon the
strange similarity between the face of
the vizeer in the sketch and mine. He
told me so often that this similarity
was entirely accidental, that I felt quite
sure it was not. I offered to buy the
sketch, but he replied that it was a
study—the base of a picture in which
other figures would be introduced to
complete the story. Hence it was not
for sale.

I asked him the locality intended.

He hesitated, looked at the sketch,
which we had brought back with us,
and said, “Persia.”

“You'll have to alter the costume,
then,” I remarked. “The dresses are
Javanese.”

“Do you think so?” he inquired.

“I am sure of it,” I said; “you will
find them in the quarto book of plates
appended to Sir Stamford Raffles's
book on Java.”

He made no answer to this, and after
a little more conversation we left.
As we were going he specially invited
me to come speedily again, which I
promised to do.

“How did you learn about the costume?”
asked Paul, as we were going
homeward.

“By inspection. The book I cited
is in the Duke's library.”

“What do you think of my German?”

“I don't know what to think, but I
intend to visit him. Perhaps he may
drop something at some time or other.”

“Do you know, Ambrose,” resumed
Paul, after we had walked some distance
further in silence, “I think I
have seen this Herr Diemer somewhere
before.”

“I have seen his eyes,” I rejoined,
“though I can't tell where. I intend
to find out.”

And so I did, but not in a hurry, nor
in the way I expected. I could learn

nothing at my various visits, for I called
on him frequently during evenings,
but I patiently waited. I noticed one
thing more, namely, that though the
palsy went off, the neuralgia remained,
for the head of Herr Diemer was
kept muffled, and some kind of tincture
freely applied.

One evening when I called I found
him in bed. He told me that he had
just experienced another attack of palsy
in the legs, and asked me to remain
awhile. I had gotten to be quite
familiar with him, but on that night I
found him even more communicative
than usual. I drew him on, and at
length brought up the subject of the
sketch.

“I can tell you now,” said he, “where
I must have caught the face so like
yours. There, hand me down the bottle
of Rhine wine from yonder cupboard,
and a couple of glasses. Do you
ever drink Rhenish?”

“Rarely,” I answered.

“It is good for the health. Try it.”

I sipped it, and told him that it had
a peculiar flavor which I did not like.

“It will change when you drink the
first glass,” he said.

I drank a glass as he desired, but it
seemed to me as though the taste grew
stronger at every mouthful. He went
on, meanwhile, to tell me how he had
been in England some years before,
and while in the southwestern part had
visited the various show-places, among
the rest, Landys Castle. The narrative,
though tedious, and full of digressions,
was interesting, because I was
trying to detect where the falsehood
lay; but I felt all the while a drowsiness
stealing over me.

“The wine has affected you,” he said.

“It is headier than it seems, but it will
pass away.”

It did not, however. I grew drowsier
every moment.

“I can remedy that,” said he. “Pray
hand me that bottle and sponge from
the table. It contains ammonia and
other things that I use to clear the
head in such cases.”

He poured out a liquid, with a peculiar,
penetrating odor, on the sponge,
and loosely folded it in a napkin.

“There,” said he, “let me hold that
to your nostrils. Draw it in strong a
few times.”

I obeyed him, for I was desirous of
getting to the end of his story. I felt
my head soothed, but not cleared. I
grew more drowsy, and made an ineffectual
attempt to remove the sponge.
He held it firmly, and I struggled
slightly. As I did so the cover and
false nose fell from his face. I recognized
Osborne, and at the same moment
lost both sense and motion.