Sermon on the Call of Matthew by St. Vincent Ferrer (translated into English)

 (Mt 9:9-13) Douay transl.

9 And when Jesus passed on from hence, he saw a man sitting in the custom house, named Matthew; and he saith to him: Follow me. And he rose up and followed him. 10 And it came to pass as he was sitting at meat in the house, behold many publicans and sinners came, and sat down with Jesus and his disciples. 11 And the Pharisees seeing it, said to his disciples: Why doth your master eat with publicans and sinners? 12 But Jesus hearing it, said: They that are in health need not a physician, but they that are ill. 13 Go then and learn what this meaneth, I will have mercy and not sacrifice. For I am not come to call the just, but sinners.

“For I am not come to call the just, but sinners,” (Mt 9:13).

The official Gospel reading is this.  Today’s feast is great, if you wish to consider the person, because he is the first apostle and evangelist and glorious martyr, because about the apostle per se there is a feast, and about the evangelist per se, and of the martyr per se, therefore there are three reasons which come together to make this a great feast. Our sermon shall be about it.  Let the Virgin Mary be hailed.

The proposed text is that of our Lord Jesus Christ saying, “For I am not come,” etc. At first glance already you can see that this text has a problem, for Christ who loved both the just and the unjust, as well as the wicked and sinners, said, “For I am not come,” etc. So a clarification is necessary, and so we shall enter the matter to be preached by declaring.  Now listen. Such a difference I find between the just person and the sinner, just as between being near or close to God, and distant from God.  The just man, good and god-fearing is so near to God that no creature is closer to him, neither his coat nor shirt nor skin is closer than God.  And with respect to the understanding, because just as air at noon is near to light because it is entirely illuminated by the sun, so God is near to the intellect of the just and good,  by enlightenment [per illustrationem], by illuminating the spirit, because the whole is filled with divinity, nor does he leave there the darkness of error, neither bonfire [usturam] of false opinions, to this extent, that not only are the just said to be luminous, but also to be light. “For you were heretofore darkness, but now light in the Lord,” (Eph 5:8). Also Mat 5: “You are the light of the world,” (Mt 5:14).

Also he is near to the will through charitable love, because just as you see fire around red hot iron, so the will of the just is inflamed by divinity for loving God above all things and your neighbor like yourself.  “God is love: and he who abides in love, abides in God, and God in him,” (1 Jn 4:16).

Also God is near the just man with respect to life through honesty, and conversation, because just as a colored cloth is near to the coat or color, so the just person is tinted or colored with sanctity before God, with humble eyes, in ears hearing the things of God, in extending hands, in prayer, in the throat, through temperance in the body, by afflicting it, in memory of the passion of Christ. It is clear that the person is colored. etc. “You, O Lord, are among us, and your name is called upon by us,” (Jer 14:9). Behold how a just person is near to God.  So David says, “The Lord is near to all who call upon him: to all who call upon him in truth,” (Ps 144:18).

But the unjust person, the sinner, is far from God, not by a physical [locali] distance, because if so, the person would immediately be annihilated, but he is said to be distanced from a sinner by a formal difference, because just as it is said of two pieces of cloth, although joined, if one be fine and the other rough, they are said to be distanced, not locally but formally.  So it is of God and the sinner, because there is such a difference between so great a holiness and so great an iniquity.  Therefore David in Ps 118:155, “Salvation,” Jesus, “is far from sinners; because they have not sought your justifications,” that is your holiness [sanctitates].  It is clear therefore how the just are near to God, and sinners distanced from God.

Now it is clear that one who is near is not called, but he who is at a distance is called. This is what Christ was saying, “For I am not come to call the just.”  Reason, because already they are with him, although he shall come to save them, if they persevere, but sinners, that they be converted.  The theme is clear.

This theme is  generally appropriated to St. Matthew, apostle etc. I find that St. Matthew the evangelist, before his conversion was far from God, because he was unjust and a great sinner. Therefore he was called by God saying, “Come, follow me,” (Mt 19:21).  About this calling [vocationem] of St. Matthew four things must be said.

 

First, his gracious calling [vocatio gratiosa],

Second, the fruitful invitation [invitatio fructuosa],

Third, the virtuous action [operatio virtuousa],

Fourth, his glorious perfection [perfectio gloriosa].

 

GRACIOUS CALLING

As to the first, the manner of his conversion and calling was gracious.  I have sought out how many jobs [officia] St. Matthew had, and I found that he had three bad jobs in this world, namely a dangerous job, a criminal job and a loathsome job.

The dangerous job is that of money lender, which he had.  For in the city of Capharnum which is on the lake, he kept the accounts, the money changer’s table.  The job is dangerous to the soul to handle so much money, because just as someone who handles oil, coal or fish is dirtied by them, so the one who handles money.  And because of this the Scripture says, “He who touches pitch, shall be defiled with it,” (Sir 13:1).  Money is called “pitch.”   Reason, because it leaves lots of stains on souls of those handling money.  First in their thoughts, and second in time wasted, occupied in negotiations.  As a sign of this, coins, whether gold, or silver, then it is handled it leaves great stains on the hands of a man, because the reason is, that money lenders perpetrate frauds etc.

Second it is criminal, because it is usurious.  So Bede says that after his conversion he distributed his property, because he used to seize things by usury.  It is said that he used to lend ten for twelve, and so for the other kinds of usury, according to which it is required for profit to buy for less and sell for more,.  Also by receiving profits by lending for collateral [super possessiones].  There are many who act in this way, and they excuse themselves saying, falsely, that the church permits it etc.  This is contrary to the divine ordination, which would have it that all creatures freely distribute and share those things which God has shared with them.  This is clear of the sun, which distributes light shared with it from God against darkness, and heat against cold, and its power to ripen.  Same for fire which communicates its brightness and warmth.  Same of the air for breathing, and water for washing, and catching fish, the earth for plants etc.  So therefore since the irrational creatures share, how much more should we?  Therefore there is a great sin in usury.  This is the criminal job.  But he who lends freely and without usury, is just, as the prophet says, “A man …who has not lent upon usury…is just,”  (Ez 18:8,9).

The third job was loathsome [odiosum] and disgusting, because he was the tax-collector in the city of Capharnum, collecting by law of the Emperor.  Therefore he is called a tax-collector, that is a publican, because he held the public office of tax-collector.  This office is disgusting and loathsome, because sometimes he effects great injuries, from the authority which he has.  Because of this reason, John the Baptist, to whom the publicans came asking “What shall we do that we may be saved?”  replied, “Do nothing more than that which is appointed you,” (Cf Lk 3:12).  From these three jobs St. Matthew was distanced from God by three great distances [dietas ?].

But listen to how he was called – He was the sixth [apostle], because he [Christ] already had called five others – when Christ walked along the sea of Galilee, and St. Matthew was sitting at the counting table, at his great house by the lakeshore, taking care of his business, to be specific, about the business of collecting and changing money.   Christ stood and looked at the publican, Levi by name, involved in his business, etc., who was unable to think either about God or about his soul.  And Christ looked at him, that is regarded him attentively [attente respexit]. And St. Matthew, by the ordination of God, raising his eyes saw Christ before him, whom he did not know.  But so great was the reverence and majesty of his sanctity, that Matthew gazed at him in admiration.  Christ said to him, “Come and follow me.”  Immediately by divine power, the moment Christ pronounced these words, the ray of brightness illuminated his mind, and he recognized Christ to be the true Messiah, and his heart out of contrition for sins was saying, “Here am I: for you did call me,” (1 Kg 3:9).  Immediately, leaving everything, he followed him, walking away from his books and accounts etc.   Reason says that he said to Christ, “Lord, I give you thanks, you have selected me as a disciple,” etc.  You can well believe that Christ said, “Go settle your business. Return an account and a tally to your superiors, and arrange a settlement [diffinitionem], and take back what you have lent out, without usury.   Receive back only the principle. Believe it. That is what he did, announce publicly if he was contracted with anyone in any way whatsoever through usury, or injustice, that he would give satisfaction for all.  This is the way of satisfying for public usury, otherwise for what is secret, restitution ought to be made secretly. Whoever wishes to enter into paradise should act in this way.  The sin is not forgiven, unless the restitution is accomplished.  It is the rule of jurists, 14, q.6 Si res. and of the theologians.  Do not be deceived saying, “I shall put it in a will, etc.”  This is said against those who say, “If I make restitution, I would have to come down in class.  The same about the son’s  inheritance etc.  Therefore it is necessary to keep monies like an apple or pomegranate [mala granata], that you examine it lest it be spotted or spoiled etc.  So should you yourself do when you receive florins or other goods.  You should examine it saying to yourself, “Let us see whether this has the worms of usury, or the stains of theft, and should be thrown out by making restitution, otherwise it corrupts another and another,” etc.  Have no doubt about it,  you will lack for nothing.  So David says, “I have been young, and now am old; and I have not seen the just forsaken, nor his seed seeking bread,” (Ps 36:5).  But of the usurer the same David says, “I have seen the wicked highly exalted, and lifted up like the cedars of Lebanon.  And I passed by, and lo, he was not : and I sought him and his place was not found,” (Ps 36:35-36).

 

FRUITFUL INVITATION

As for the second, namely the fruitful invitation.  It is said  how after he restored all, he remained at home and with some money from a just man, he wished to host a great dinner for Christ, so that he might do as religious do when they enter an order, etc.  Of this banquet we read in Luke 5, “And Levi made him a great feast in his own house,” (Lk 5:29).  St. Matthew’s name was Levi.  The details of this banquet is told in the text of Luke 5, “And there was a great company of publicans, and of others, that were at table with them,” (v. 29).  The intention of St. Matthew was that these also be converted.  This reason St. Jerome states.  St. Matthew was thinking, “If he converted me who was so wrapped up in business, he can also convert these.”  It is told how it was arranged by Christ that the gates would be open and the apostles would sit near the doors, and Christ amidst the publicans said the verse, “The eyes of all, ” (Cf Ps 144:15, the friars’ prayer before meals), and he sat himself down at the table with them.  Then was fulfilled the prophecy, Can. 2:3: “As the malus,” that is the apple, “is among the trees of the woods,” namely without fruit, “so my beloved among the sons.”  And during the pause between courses [inter cibum et cibum], as happens in great feasts, Christ in the manner of a lecture was saying, “Now hear this, we ought to praise God very much, who has made so much for the service of mankind, namely all animals and all fruit.”  And those sinners listened carefully, and although at first they laughed, they began to weep etc.  And after they had eaten the cooked food  Christ said, “Now think if this corruptible food gives such a taste etc., what ought it be from the incorruptible food of heaven, because when the king give to his servants such savory food, what are those foods which he keeps for himself?”  So from these publicans many were converted to God and wept.  Also after they ate, cooked in water [? coctum in aqua], so much so that it is believed that all of those were converted. Such was the power of the words of Christ.  And when they were almost at the end of dinner, the Pharisees looking in, because the doors were opened, said to his disciples, because they were eating near the door, ” Why [does your master] eat and drink with publicans and sinners?” (Lk 5:30). As if they were saying. “It is clear what he is like. Tell me with whom you go with, and I will tell you what you do.” Hearing this Christ called them to him. And they, puffed up, were before him saying, “What do you want?”  Christ said, “You say to me when in a certain city there are many sick, who needs a doctor, the healthy or the sick?” And they, understanding, preferred not to respond.   And Christ, “Do you not wish to answer?  I say to you, the healthy do not need a doctor, but those who are ill.” (Cf. Lk 5:31).  This one was sick with pride, and now is cured, and that one with avarice, and so of the others.  Therefore Augustine says, “The great doctor from heaven comes to us, because great is the one lying sick through the whole world.  Then he says, ” I came not to call the just, but sinners,” (v. 32).  And the Jews, in confusion, withdrew.  Clear then is the fruitful invitation, for because of the fact that he was converted, he worked to convert others.

Morally [in the moral sense of scripture], we have here a teaching how each of us ought to care if he is on the way of salvation, about his family, about his neighbors, a husband about his wife, and vice versa.  About the family, that they confess, and receive Communion at Easter, that they attend Mass and hear sermons, and not work on feast days. “But if any man have not care of his own, and especially of those of his house, he has denied the faith, and is worse than an infidel,” (1 Tim 5:8).

 

VIRTUOUS OPERATION

As for the third, namely, virtuous action, or virtuous operation, namely of the works which he did after he was converted.  It is said how after the resurrection of Christ, the ascension and the sending of the Holy Sprit, the apostles divided up the world for preaching and converting mankind etc. And St. Matthew went to Ethiopia preaching, and working miracles, illuminating the blind, and so for the others.  And he converted many peoples to Christ.  Behold the virtuous actions, or the virtuous operations.

It is said that once when he was preaching that there was a great tumult and wailing in the people of the death of the only son of the king.  And when the tomb was being prepared, a certain Christian, the eunuch whom Philip baptized in Acts 8 went to the king saying to him that a holy man was in the city, who could raise him from the dead, etc.  The miracle is told as is found in the History.  And the prophecy was fulfilled, “I called him alone, and blessed him, and multiplied him,” (Is 51:2).

If you wish to learn morally through a question, what was the reason why St. Matthew alone converted that nation, namely all of Ethiopia, and Egypt, and since now there are so many preachers, what is the reason why we are not converting the Jews of today, etc.  It is said that the apostles lived a holy life and preserved good teaching, and they wanted nothing more than the honor of God and the salvation of souls.  So the Apostle said, “But having food, and wherewith to be covered, with these we are content,” (1 Tim 6:8).  In these times we are deficient in our lives, because we men do not wish to hear daily the miracles of the saints, etc., and neither do we [preach] good teachings, just that of the poets etc.  Nor do we care for the salvation of souls, but only for  things and friends, etc.  The same for clergy selling sacraments.  Not only are the infidels not converted, but even the faithful are scandalized [pervertentur] and lose their faith.  Therefore the Apostle, “For all seek the things that are their own; not the things that are Jesus Christ’s,” (Phil 2:21).

 

GLORIOUS PERFECTION

As for the fourth, namely the glorious perfection.  For he was martyred, for the defense of a certain nun.  First, the monastery, I have read [in the Golden Legend], was that which St. Matthew founded.  It is said how after he converted that land, the king which he had converted died, whose daughter, Ephigenia by name was with other virgins, dedicated to God by taking the sacred veil.  And the king succeeding her father, a foreigner, wished to have her in marriage.  The story goes, and how was it told to the king, that he would never have her unless with the permission of the apostle Matthew, because he was their prior.  So the king called him saying that he would marry her.  Then St. Matthew thought about it.  If I tell him now, he might kill me, and my testimony would not be made known etc.  Therefore he said to the king that on the following Sunday he would be at Mass [in officio] and he would there commend marriage. And so it happened.  On the following Sunday the apostle said, how marriage was holy and instituted by God in the earthly paradise.  Second, that it was honored by Christ in the first of his miracles.  Third because from it the cathedral is filled, etc, namely of heaven.  Fourth, it is conserving of human nature.  Thus Christ wished that his mother have a spouse, etc.  But afterwards he said, that a person would be a traitor, who would wish the spouse of the king to be given away as a wife etc. Note here well, in the legend, because of this St. Matthew was pierced with a lance and martyred.

It is said that it [marriage] with nuns and clergy is a sin, because it is a sacrilege.  It is said to be like this, it would be a greater sin to throw the holy sepulcher of Christ into a latrine, than if the all the tombs of the saints were thrown in.

Tuesday's Serial "The Mystery of the Sea" by Bram Stoker (in English) - XI

CHAPTER XXIII - SECRET SERVICE

Next morning after breakfast I wheeled over to Crom, bringing in my bicycle bag the revolver and ammunition for Marjory. I could not but feel alarmed for her safety as I rode through the wood which surrounded the house. It would need a regiment to guard one from a stray assassin. For myself I did not have any concern; but the conviction grew and grew on me to the point of agony that harm which I should be powerless to prevent might happen here to Marjory. When I was inside the house the feeling was easier. Here, the place was to all intents and purposes fortified, for nothing short of cannon or dynamite could make any impression on it.

Marjory received my present very graciously; I could see from the way that she handled the weapon that she had little to learn of its use. I suppose the thought must have crossed her that I might think it strange to find her so familiar with a lethal weapon, for she turned to me and said with that smoothness of tone which marks the end rather than the beginning of a speech:

“Dad always wished me to know how to use a gun. I don’t believe he was ever without one himself, even in his bed, from the time he was a small boy. He used to say ‘It never does any one any harm to be ready to get the drop first, in case of a scrap!’ I have a little beauty in my dressing-case that he got made for me. I am doubly armed now.”

I stayed to lunch, but went away immediately after as I was anxious to find if Adams had sent me any message. Before going, I asked Marjory to be especially careful not to be out alone in the woods round the house, for a few days at any rate. She demurred at first; but finally agreed—‘to please you’ as she put it—not to go out at all till I had come again. I told her that as I was coming to breakfast the next morning if I might, it was not a very long time of imprisonment.

When I asked for telegrams at the post-office, which was in the hotel, I was told that a gentleman was waiting to see me in the coffee room. I went in at once and found Sam Adams reading an old newspaper. He started up when he saw me and straightway began:

“I hurried over to tell you that we have had further news. Nothing very definite to-day; but the Washington people hope to have a lot of detail by to-morrow night. So be ready, old chap!” I thanked him, but even in the act of doing so it struck me that he had taken a deal of trouble to come over when he could have sent me a wire. I did not say so, however; doubts of an act of this kind can always wait.

Sam had tea with me, and then we smoked a cigar outside on the little terrace before the hotel. There were some fishermen and workmen, as usual sitting on or leaning against the wall across the road, and three men who were lounging about, evidently trippers waiting for their tea to be served. When we came out and had passed them, the little group went into the coffee room. They were, all three, keen-looking, alert men, and I had a passing wonder what they were doing in Cruden as they had no golf bags with them. Sam did not remain long but caught the six-ten train back to Aberdeen.

I cannot say that my night was an easy one. Whilst I lay awake I imagined new forms of danger to Marjory; and when I fell asleep I dreamt them. I was up early, and after a sharp ride on my bicycle came to Crom in time for breakfast.

As we had a long forenoon, Marjory took me over the house. It was all of some interest, as it represented the life and needs of life in the later days of Queen Elizabeth in a part of the country where wars and feuds had to be prepared for. The Castle was arranged for siege, even to the water supply; there was a well of immense depth situated in a deep dungeon under the angle of the castle which they called the Keep. They did not, however, ordinarily depend on this, as there was otherwise an excellent water supply. In the dungeon were chains and manacles and some implements of torture, all covered with the rust of centuries. We hoped that they had not been used. Marjory consoled herself with the thought that they had been placed there at the time of the building as part of the necessary furnishing of a mediæval castle. One room, the library, was of great interest. It had not been built for the purpose, for there was no provision of light; but it must have been adapted to this use not long after the place was built. The woodwork of carved oak was early seventeenth century. I did not have time to look over the books, and there was no catalogue; but from the few which I glanced at I could see that whoever had gathered the library must have been a scholar and an enthusiast.

In the course of our survey of the castle, Marjory showed me the parts which were barred up and the rooms which were locked. That such a thing should be in a house in which she lived was a never-ending source of curiosity. There was a dozen times as much room as she could possibly want; but here was something unknown and forbidden. She being a woman, it became a Tree of Knowledge and a Bluebeard’s Chamber in one. She was so eager about it that I asked if she could not get permission from the agent to go through the shut rooms and places so as to satisfy herself. She replied that she had already done so, the very day after she had arrived, and had had an answer that the permission could not be given without the consent of the owner; but that as he was shortly expected in Scotland her request would be forwarded to him and his reply when received would be at once communicated to her. Whilst we were talking of the subject a telegram to Mrs. Jack came from the agent, saying that the owner had arrived and was happy to give permission required and that further he would be obliged if the tenant would graciously accord him permission to go some day soon through the house which he had not seen for many years. A telegram was at once sent in Mrs. Jack’s name, thanking him for the permission and saying that the owner would be most welcome to go through the house when he pleased.

As I was anxious to hear if there was any news from Adams I said good-bye at the door, and rode back on my bicycle. I had asked Marjory to renew her promise of not going out alone for another day, and she had acceded; ‘only to please you,’ she said this time.

I found a wire from Adams sent at six o’clock:

“Important news. Come here at once.” I might catch the train if I hurried, so jumped on my bicycle and got to the station just in time.

I found Adams in his room at the Palace Hotel, walking up and down like a caged panther. When I came in he rushed over to me and said eagerly as he handed me a sheet of note paper:

“Read that; it is a translation of our cipher telegram. I thought you would never come!” I took it with a sinking heart; any news that was so pressing could not be good, and bad must affect Marjory somehow. I read the document over twice before I fully understood its meaning. It ran as follows:

“Secret Service believe that Drake plot is to kidnap and ransom. Real plotters are understood to be gang who stole Stewart’s body. Are using certain Spanish and other foreigners as catspaw. Heads of plot now in Europe, Spain, England, Holland. Expect more details. Use all precautions.”

“What do you think of that?” said Adams when I had taken my eyes off the paper.

“I hardly know yet. What do you make of it? You have thought of it longer than I have.”

“Just what I have thought all along. The matter is serious, very serious! In one way that wire is something of a relief. If that kidnapping gang are behind it, it doesn’t mean political vengeance, but only boodle; so that the fear of any sudden attack on her life is not so imminent. The gang will take what care they can to keep from killing the goose that lays the golden eggs. But then, the political desperadoes who would enter on such a matter are a hard crowd; if they are in power, or at any rate in numerical force, they may not be easy to keep back. Indeed, it is possible that they too may have their own game to play, and may be using the blackmailers for their own purpose. I tell you, old man, we are in a very tight place, and must go to work pretty warily. The whole thing swings so easily to one side or the other, that any false move on the part of any of us may give the push to the side we would least care should win. By the way, I take it that you are of the same mind still regarding Miss Drake’s wishes.”

“Now and always! But as you can guess I am anxious to know all I can that can help me to guard her.” Somewhat to my astonishment he answered heartily:

“All right, old chap, of course I will tell you; but I will depend on your letting me know of anything you are free to tell which might serve me in my work.”

“Certainly! I say,” I added, “you don’t mind my not having worked with you about finding her address.”

“Not a bit! I have to find it in my own way; that is all!” There was a sort of satisfaction, if not of triumph, in his tone which set me thinking.

“Then you know it already?” I said.

“Not yet; but I hope to before the night is over.”

“Have you a clue?” He laughed.

“Clue? a hundred. Why, man, none of us were born yesterday. There isn’t a thing on God’s earth that mayn’t be a clue now and again if it is properly used. You are a clue yourself if it comes to that.” In a flash I saw it all. Adams had come to Cruden to point me out to his detectives. These were the keen-looking men who were at Cruden when he was. Of course they had followed me, and Marjory’s secret was no secret now. I said nothing for a little while; for at the first I was angry that Adams should have used me against my will. Then two feelings strove for mastery; one of anxiety lest my unconscious betrayal of her secret might hurt me in Marjory’s eyes, the other relief that now she was in a measure protected by the resources of her great country. I was easier in my mind concerning her safety when I thought of those keen, alert men looking after her. Then again I thought that Adams had done nothing which I could find fault with. I should doubtless have done the same myself had occasion arisen. I was chagrined, however, to think that it had all been so childishly simple. I had not even contemplated such a contingency. If I couldn’t plot and hide my tracks better than that, I should be but a poor ally for Marjory in the struggle which she had voluntarily undertaken against her unknown foes.

Before I left Adams, I told him that I would come back on the to-morrow evening. I went to bed early in the Palace hotel, as I wanted to catch the first train back to Cruden.

 

CHAPTER XXIV - A SUBTLE PLAN

It was now a serious matter of thought to me how I could take Marjory into proper confidence, without spoiling things and betraying Adams’s confidence. As I pondered, the conviction grew upon me that I had better be quite frank with her and ask her advice. Accordingly when I saw her at Crom at noon I entered on the matter, though I confess with trepidation. When I told her I wanted to ask her advice she was all attention. I felt particularly nervous as I began:

“Marjory, when a man is in a hole he ought to consult his best friend; oughtn’t he?”

“Why certainly!”

“And you are my best friend; are you not?”

“I hope so! I should certainly like to be.”

“Well, look here, dear, I am in such a tangle that I can’t find a way out, and I want you to help me.” She must have guessed at something like the cause of my difficulty, for a faint smile passed over her face as she said:

“The old trouble? Sam Adams’s diplomacy, eh?”

“It is this. I want to know how you think I should act so as to give least pain to a very dear friend of mine, and at the same time do a very imperative duty. You may see a way out that I don’t.”

“Drive on dear; I’m listening.”

“Since we met I have had some very disturbing information from a source which I am not at liberty to mention. I can tell you all about this, though you must not ask me how I know it. But first there is something else. I believe, though I do not know for certain, that your secret is blown; that the detectives have discovered where you live.” She sat up at once.

“What!” I went on quickly:

“And I am sorry to say that if it is discovered it has been through me; though not by any act or indeed by any fault of mine.” She laid her hand on mine and said reassuringly:

“If you are in it, I can look at it differently. May I ask how you came into that gallery?”

“Certainly! I am not pledged as to this. It was by the most simple and transparent of means. You and I were seen together. They did not know where to look for you or follow you up, when they had lost the scent; but they knew me and watched me. Voila!”

“That’s simple enough anyhow!” was her only comment. After a while she asked:

“Do you know how far they have got in their search?”

“I do not; I only know that they expected to find where you lived two days ago. I suppose they have found it out by this.”

“Sam Adams is getting too clever. They will be making him President, or Alderman or something, if he doesn’t look out. But do you know yet why all this trouble is being taken about me.”

“I can tell you,” I answered “but you must not tell any one, for it would not do for the sake of others if it got about. There is a plan got up by a gang of blackmailers to kidnap you for a ransom.” She jumped up with excitement and began to clap her hands.

“Oh, that is too delicious!” she said. “Tell me all you know of it. We may be able to lead them on a bit. It will be an awful lark!” I could not possibly share her mirth; the matter was really too grave. She saw my feeling in my face and stopped. She thought for a minute or two with her brows wrinkled and then she said:

“Are you really serious, Archie, as to any danger in the matter?”

“My dear, there is always danger in a conspiracy of base men. We have to fear, for we don’t know the power or numbers of the conspiracy. We have no idea of their method of working, or where or how we may expect attack. The whole thing is a mystery to us. Doubtless it will only come from one point; but we must be ready to repel, all round the compass.”

“But, look here, it is only danger.”

“The danger is to you; if it were to me, I think I could laugh myself. But, my darling, remember that it is out of my love for you that my fear comes. If you were nothing to me, I could, I suppose, bear it easily enough. You have taken new responsibilities on you, Marjory, since you let a man love you. His heart is before you to walk on; so you have to tread carefully.”

“I can avoid treading on it, can’t I?” she said falling into the vein of metaphor. “Surely, if there is anything in the world that by instinct I could know is in danger, it would be your heart!”

“Ah, my dear, it does not stay still. It will keep rolling along with you wherever you go; hopping back and forward and sideways in every conceivable way. You must now and again tread on it for all your care; in the dark or in the light.”

“I had no idea,” she said “that I had taken such a responsibility on my shoulders when I said I would marry you.”

“It is not the marrying” I said “but the loving that makes the trouble!”

“I see!” she replied and was silent for a while. Then she turned to me and said very sweetly:

“Anyhow Archie, whatever we may settle about what we are to do, I am glad you came to consult me and to tell me frankly of your trouble. Do this always, my dear. It will be best for you, and best for me too, to feel that you trust me. You have given me a pleasure to-day that is beyond words.”

Then we spoke of other things, and we agreed to wait till the next day before arranging any fixed plan of action. Before I went away, and whilst the sentiment of parting was still on her, she said to me—and I could see that the thought had been in her mind for some time:

“Archie, you and I are to live together as man and wife. Is it not so? I think we both want to be as nearly one as a man and a woman can be—flesh of each other’s flesh, and bone of bone, and soul of soul. Don’t you think we shall become this better by being joined, us two, against all comers. We have known each other only a short time as yet. What we have seen of each other has been good enough to make us cling together for life. But, my dear, what has been, has been only the wishing to cling; the clinging must be the struggle that is to follow. Be one with me in this fight. It is my fight, I feel, begun before I ever knew you. When your fight comes, and I can see you have it before you with regard to that treasure, you will know that you can count on me. It may be only a fancy of mine, but the comradeship of pioneers, when the men and women had to fight together against a common foe, runs in my blood! Let me feel, before I give myself altogether to your keeping, or you to mine, that there is something of this comradeship between us; it will make love doubly dear!”

What could a man in love say to this? It seemed like the very essence of married love, and was doubly dear to me on that account. Pledged by my kisses I came away, feeling as if I had in truth left my wife behind.

When I got back to Cruden I took up the matter of the treasure whilst I was waiting for news from Adams. In the stir of the events of the last few days I had almost forgotten it. I read the papers over again, as I wished to keep myself familiar with the facts; I also went over the cipher, for I did not wish to get stale in it. As I laboured through it, all Marjory’s sweetness to me on that day of the ride from Braemar came back to me; and as I read I found myself unconsciously drumming out the symbols on the table with the fingers of my right hand and my left after the fashion of Marjory’s variant. When I was through, I sat pondering, and all sorts of new variants kept rising before me in that kind of linked succession when the mind runs free in day-dreaming and one idea brings up another. I was not altogether easy, for I was now always expecting some letter or telegram of a disconcerting kind; anxiety had become an habitual factor in my working imagination. All sorts of possibilities kept arising before me, mostly with reference to Marjory. I was glad that already we understood in common one method of secret communication; and I determined then and there that when I went over to Crom on the next day I would bring the papers with me, and that Marjory and I would renew our lesson, and practice till we were quite familiar with the cipher.

Just then a message was brought to me that a gentleman wished to see me, so I asked the maid to bring him up. I do not think that I was altogether surprised to find that he was one of the three men whom I had seen at Cruden before. He handed me in silence a letter which I found to be from Adams. I read it with a sinking heart. In it he told me that it was now ascertained that two members of the blackmail gang had come to England. They had been seen to land at Dover, but got out between there and London; and their trace was lost. He said he wished to advise me at once, so that I might be on the alert. He would himself take his own steps as I understood. The messenger, when he saw I had read the letter, asked me if there was any answer. I said “only thanks” and he went away. It was not till afterwards that I remembered that I might have asked the man to tell me something of the appearance of the suspected men, so that I might know them if I should come across them. Once again I fell in my own esteem as a competent detective. In the meantime I could do nothing; Marjory’s last appeal to me made it impossible for me to take steps against her wishes. She manifestly wanted the fight with the kidnappers to go on; and she wanted me to be with her in it heart and soul. Although this community of purpose was sweet, there grew out of our very isolation a new source of danger, a never-ending series of dangers. The complications were growing such that it would soon be difficult to take any step at all with any prospect of utility. Marjory would now be watched with all the power and purpose of the American Secret Service. That she would before long infallibly find it out, and that she would in such case endeavour at all hazards to escape from it, was apparent. If she did escape from their secret surveillance, she would be playing into the hands of her enemies; and so might incur new danger. I began to exercise my brain as to how I could best help her wishes. If we were to fight together and alone, we would at least make as good a battle as we could.

I thought, and thought, and thought till my head began to spin; and then an idea all at once sprang into my view. It was so simple, and so much in accord with my wishes; so delightful, that I almost shouted out with joy.

I did not lose a minute, but hurried a change of clothes into a bag and caught the train for Aberdeen en route for London.

I did not lose any time. Next morning I was in London and went with my solicitor to Doctor’s Commons. There I got a license of the Archbishop of Canterbury entitling Archibald Hunter and Marjory Anita Drake to be married anywhere in England—there being no similar license in Scotland. I returned at once, stopping at Carlisle to make arrangements with a local clergyman to be ready to perform a marriage service at eight o’clock of the second morning.

 

CHAPTER XXV - INDUCTIVE RATIOCINATION

I think Marjory must have suspected that I had something strange to say, for almost as soon as I came in the morning room I saw that queer little lift of her eyebrows and wrinkle in her brows which I was accustomed to see when she was thinking. She held out her two hands towards me so that I could see them without Mrs. Jack being able to. She held up her fingers in the following succession:

Left index finger, right middle finger, left little finger, right little finger, left thumb, right fourth finger, right index finger, left thumb, right index finger; thus spelling “wait” in her own variant of our biliteral cipher. I took her hint, and we talked commonplaces. Presently she brought me up to the long oak-lined room at the top of the Castle. Here we were all alone; from the window seat at the far end we could see that no one came into the room unknown to us. Thus we were sure of not being overhead. Marjory settled herself comfortably amongst a pile of cushions, “Now” she said “go on and tell me all about it!”

“About what?” said I, fencing a little.

“The news that you are bursting to tell me. Hold on! I’ll guess at it. You are elated, therefore it is not bad; but being news and not bad it must be good—from your point of view at any rate. Then you are jubilant, so there must be something personal in it—you are sufficiently an egoist for that. I am sure that nothing business-like or official, such as the heading off the kidnappers, would have such a positive effect on you. Then, it being personal, and you having rather more of a dominant air than usual about you—Let me see—Oh!” she stopped in confusion, and a bright blush swept over her face and neck. I waited. It frightened me just a wee bit to see the unerring accuracy with which she summed me up; but she was clearing the ground for me rapidly and effectively. After a pause she said in a small voice:

“Archie show me what you have got in your waistcoat pocket.” It was my turn to blush a bit now. I took out the tiny case which held the gold ring and handed it to her. She took it with a look of adorable sweetness and opened it. I think she suspected only an engagement ring, for when she saw it was one of plain gold she shut the box with a sudden “Oh!” and kept it hidden in her hand, whilst her face was as red as sunset. I felt that my time had come.

“Shall I tell you now?” I asked putting my arms round her.

“Yes! if you wish.” This was said in a low voice “But I am too surprised to think. What does it all mean? I thought that this—this sort of thing came later, and after some time was mutually fixed for—for—it!”

“No time like the present, Marjory dear!” As she was silent, though she looked at me wistfully, I went on:

“I have made a plan and I think you will approve of it. That is as a whole; even if you dislike some of the details. What do you think of an escape from the espionage of both the police and the other fellows. You got hidden before; why not again, when once you have put them off the scent. I have as a matter of fact planned a little movement which will at any rate try whether we can escape the watchfulness of these gentlemen.”

 “Good!” she said with interest.

“Well, first of all” I went on, getting nervous as I drew near the subject “Don’t you think that it will be well to prevent anyone talking about us, hereafter, in an unpleasant way?”

“I’m afraid I don’t quite understand!”

“Well, look here, Marjory. You and I are going to be much thrown together in these matters that seem to be coming on; if there is any escaping to be done, there will be watchful eyes on us before it, and gossiping tongues afterwards; and inquiries and comparing of notes everywhere. We shall have to go off together, often alone or under odd circumstances. You can’t fight a mystery in the open, you know; and you can’t by walking out boldly, bamboozle trained detectives who have already marked you down.”

“Not much; but it doesn’t need any torturing of our brains with thinking to know that.”

“Well then my suggestion is that we be married at once. Then no one can ever say anything in the way of scandal; no matter what we do, or where we go!” My bolt was sped, and somehow my courage began to ooze away. I waited to hear what she would say. She waited quite a while and then said quietly:

“Don’t be frightened, Archie, I am thinking it over. I must think; it is all too serious and too sudden to decide on in a moment. I am glad, anyhow, that you show such decision of character, and turn passing circumstances into the direction in which you wish them to work. It argues well for the future!”

“Now you are satirical!”

“Just a little. Don’t you think there is an excuse?” She was not quite satisfied; and indeed I could not be surprised. I had thought of the matter so unceasingly for the last twenty-four hours that I did not miss any of the arguments against myself; my natural dread of her refusal took care of that. As, however, I almost expected her to begin with a prompt negative, I was not unduly depressed by a shade of doubt. I was, however, so single-minded in my purpose—my immediate purpose—that I could endure to argue with her doubts. As it was evident that she, naturally enough, thought that I wanted her to marry me at once out of the ardour of my love, I tried to make her aware as well as I could of my consideration for her wishes. Somehow, I felt at my best as I spoke; and I thought that she felt it too:

“I’m not selfish in the matter, Marjory dear; at least I don’t wish to be. In this I am thinking of you altogether; and to prove it let me say that all I suggest is the formal ceremony which will make us one in form. Later on—and this shall be when you choose yourself and only then—we can have a real marriage, where and when you will; with flowers and bridesmaids and wedding cake and the whole fit out. We can be good comrades still, even if we have been to church together; and I will promise you faithfully that till your own time I won’t try to make love to you even when you’re my wife—of course any more than I do now. Surely that’s not too much to ask in the way of consideration.”

My dear Marjory gave in at once. It might have been that she liked the idea of an immediate marriage; for she loved me, and all lovers like the seal of possession fixed upon their hopes:

“Time goes on crutches, till love have all his rites.”

But be this as it may, she wished at any rate to believe in me. She came to me and put both her hands in mine and said with a gentle modesty, which was all tenderness in fact, and all wifely in promise:

 “Be it as you will, Archie! I am all yours in heart now; and I am ready to go through the ceremony when you will.”

“Remember, dear” I protested “it is only on your account, and to try to meet your wishes at any sacrifice, that I suggested the interval of comradeship. As far as I am concerned I want to go straight to the altar—the real altar—now.” Up went her warning finger as she said lovingly:

“I know all that dear; and I shall remember it when the time comes. But what have we to do to prepare for—for the wedding. Is it to be in a church or at a registry. I suppose it doesn’t matter which under the circumstances—and as we are to have the real marriage later. When do you wish it to be, and where?”

“To-morrow!” She started slightly as she murmured:

“So soon! I did not think it could be so soon.”

“The sooner the better” said I “If we are to carry out our plans. All’s ready; see here” I handed her the license which she read with glad eyes and a sweet blush. When she had come to the end of it I said:

“I have arranged with the clergyman of St. Hilda’s Church in Carlisle to be ready at eight o’clock to-morrow morning.” She sat silent a while and then asked me:

“And how do you suggest that I am to get there without the detectives seeing me?”

“That is to be our experiment as to escape. I would propose that you should slip out in some disguise. You will of course have to arrange with Mrs. Jack, and at least one servant, to pretend that you are still at home. Why not let it be understood that you have a headache and are keeping your room. Your meals can be taken to you as would be done, and the life of the household seem to go on just as usual.”

“And what disguise had you thought of?”

 “I thought that if you went dressed as a man it would be best.”

“Oh that would be a lark!” she said. Then her face fell. “But where am I to get a man’s dress? There is not time if I am to be in Carlisle to-morrow morning.”

“Be easy as to that, dear. A man’s dress is on its way to you now by post. It should be here by now. I am afraid you will have to take chance as to its fit. It is of pretty thick cloth, however, so that it will look all right.”

“What sort of dress is it?”

“A servant’s, a footman’s. I thought it would probably avoid suspicion easier than any other.”

“That goes! Oh this is too thrilling;” she stopped suddenly and said:

“But how about Mrs. Jack?”

“She will go early this afternoon to Carlisle and put up at a little hotel out of the way. I have got rooms in one close to the station. At first I feared it would not be possible for her to be with us; but then when I thought it over, I came to the conclusion that you might not care to let the matter come off at all unless she were present. And besides you would want her to be with you to-night when you are in a strange place.” Again she asked after another pause of thought:

“But how am I to change my clothes? I can’t be married as a footman; and I can’t go to a strange hotel as one, and come out as a young lady.”

“That is all thought out. When you leave here you will find me waiting for you with a bicycle in the wood on the road to Ellon. You will have to start about half past five. No one will notice that you are using a lady’s wheel. You will come to Whinnyfold where you will find a skirt and jacket and cap. They are the best I could get. We shall ride into Aberdeen as by that means we shall minimise the chance of being seen. There we will catch the eight train to Carlisle where we shall arrive about a quarter to two. Mrs. Jack will be there ready for you and will have the dress you will want to-morrow.”

“Oh, poor dear won’t she be flustered and mystified! How lucky it is that she likes you, and is satisfied with you; otherwise I am afraid she would never agree to such precipitancy. But hold on a minute! Won’t it look odd to our outside friends on the watch if a footman goes out and doesn’t return.”

“You will return to-morrow late in the evening. Mrs. Jack will be home by then; she must arrange to keep the servants busy in some distant part of the house, so that you can come in unobserved. Besides, the detectives have to divide their watches; the same men will not be on duty I take it. Anyhow, if they do not consider the outgoing of a footman as sufficiently important to follow him up they will not trouble much about his incoming.”

This all seemed feasible to Marjory; so we talked the matter over and arranged a hundred little details. These things she wrote down for Mrs. Jack’s enlightenment, and to aid her memory when she would be alone to carry out the plans as arranged.

Mrs. Jack was a little hard to convince; but at last she came round. She persisted to almost the end of our interview in saying that she could not understand the necessity for either the hurry or the mystery. She was only convinced when at last Marjory said:

“Do you want us to have all the Chicago worry over again, dear? You approve of my marrying Archie do you not? Well, I had such a sickener of proposals and all about it, that if I can’t marry this way now, I won’t marry at all. My dear, I want to marry Archie; you know we love each other.”

“Ah, that I do, my dears!”

 “Well then you must help us; and bear with all our secrecy for a bit; won’t you dear?”

“That I will, my child!” she said wiping tears from the corners of her eyes.

So it was all settled.