# What Will He Do With It? (Belford)/Book 4/Chapter 16

CHAPTER XVI.
Whatever the source that had supplied Jasper Losely with the money, from which he had so generously extracted the sovereigns intended to console Waife for the loss of Sophy, that scource either dried up, or became wholly inadequate to his wants. For elasticity was the felicitous peculiarity of Mr. Losely's wants. They accommodated themselves to the state of his finances with mathematical precision, always requiring exactly five times the amount of the means placed at his disposal. From a shilling to a million, multiply his wants by five times the total of his means, and you arrive at a just conclusion. Jasper called upon Poole, who was slowly recovering, but unable to leave his room; and finding that gentleman in a more melancholy state of mind than usual, occasioned by Uncle Sam's brutal declaration, that "if responsible for his god-son's sins, he was not responsible for his debts;" and that he really thought "the best thing Samuel Dolly could do was to go to prison for a short time, and get whitewashed;" Jasper began to lament his own hard fate: "and just when one of the finest women in Paris has come here on purpose to see me," said the lady-killer; "a lady who keeps her carriage, Dolly! Would have introduced you if you had been well enough to go out. One can't be always borrowing of her. I wish one could. There's Mother Crane would sell her gown off her back for me, but, 'Gad, Sir, she snubs, and positively frightens me. Besides, she lays traps to demean me—set me to work like a clerk (not that I would hurt your feelings, Dolly. If you are a clerk, or something of that sort, you are a gentleman at heart). Well, then, we are both done up and cleaned out; and my decided opinion is that nothing is left but a bold stroke."
"I have no objection to bold strokes, but I don't see any; and Uncle Sam's bold stroke of the Fleet Prison is not at all to my taste."
"Fleet Prison! Fleet fiddlestick! No. You have never been in Russia? Why should we not go there both? My Paris friend, Madame Caumartin, was going to Italy, but her plans are changed, and she is now all for St. Petersburg. She will wait a few days for you to get well. We will all go together and ​enjoy ourselves. The Russians doat upon whist. We shall get into their swell sets, and live like princes." There with Jasper launched forth on the text of Russian existence, in such glowing terms, that Dolly Poole shut his aching eyes, and fancied himself sledging down the Neva, covered with furs—a countess waiting for him at dinner, and counts in dozens ready to offer bets, to a fabulous amount, that Jasper Losely lost the rubber.
Having lifted his friend into this region of aerial castles, Jasper then, descending into the practical world, wound up with the mournful fact that one could not get to St. Petersburg, nor, when there, into swell sets, without having some little capital on hand.
"I tell you what we will do. Madame Caumartin lives in prime style. Get old Latham, your employer, to discount her bill at three months' date, for Pounds 500, and we will be off in a crack." Poole shook his head. "Old Latham is too knowing a file for that—a foreigner! He'd want security."
"I'll be security."
Dolly shook his head a second time, still more emphatically than the first.
"But you say he does discount paper—gets rich on it?"
"Yes, gets rich on it, which he might not do if he discounted the paper you propose. No offence."
"Oh, no offence among friends! You have taken him bills which he has discounted?"
"Yes, good paper."
"Any paper signed by good names is good paper. We can sign good names if we know their handwritings."
Dolly started and turned white. Knave he was—cheat at cards, blackleg on the turf—but forgery! that crime was new to him. The very notion of it brought on a return of fever. And while Jasper was increasing his malady by arguing with his apprehensions, luckily for Poole, Uncle Sam came in. Uncle Sam, a sagacious old tradesman, no sooner clapped eyes on the brilliant Losely than he conceived for him a distrustful repugnance, similar to that with which an experienced gander may regard a fox in colloquy with its gosling. He had already learned enough of his godson's ways and chosen society to be assured that Samuel Dolly had indulged in very anti-commercial tastes, and been sadly contaminated by very anti-commercial friends. He felt persuaded that Dolly's sole chance of redemption was in working on his mind while his body was still suffering, so that Poole might, on recovery, break with all former associations. On socing Jasper in the dress of an exquisite, with ​the thews of a prize-fighter, Uncle Sam saw the stalwart incarnation of all the sins which a godfather had vowed that a godson should renounce. Accordingly, he made himself so disagreeable, that Losely, in great disgust, took a hasty departure.
And Uncle Sam, as he helped the nurse to plunge Dolly into his bed, had the brutality to tell his nephew, in very plain terms, that if ever he found that Brummagem gent in Poole's rooms again, Poole would never again see the color of Uncle Sam's money, Dolly beginning to blubber the good man, relenting, patted him on the back, and said, "But as soon as you are well, I'll carry you with me to my country box, and keep you out of harm's way till I find you a wife, who will comb your head for you!" at which cheering prospect Poole blubbered more dolefully than before. On retiring to his own lodging in the Gloucester coffee house. Uncle Sam, to make all sure, gave positive orders to Poole's landlady, who respected in Uncle Sam the man who might pay what Poole owed to her, on no account to let in any of Dolly's profligate friends, but especially the chap he found there; adding, "'Tis as much as my nephew's life is worth, and, what is more to the purpose, as much as your bill is." Accordingly, when Jasper presented himself at Poole's door again that very evening, the landlady apprised him of her orders; and, proof to his insinuating remonstrances, closed the door in his face. But a French chronicler has recorded that, when Henry IV. was besieging Paris, though not a loaf of bread could enter the walls, love-letters passed between city and camp as easily as if there had been no siege at all. And does not Mercury preside over money as well as love t Jasper, spurred on by Madame Caumartin, who was exceedingly anxious to exchange London for Petersburg as soon as possible, maintained a close and frequent correspondence with Poole by the agency of the nurse, who luckily was not above being bribed by shillings. Poole continued to reject the villainy proposed by Jasper; but, in the course of the correspondence, he threw out, rather incoherently—for his mind began somewhat to wander a scheme equally flagitious, which Jasper, aided perhaps by Madame Caumartin's yet keener wit, caught up, and quickly reduced to a deliberate method. Old Mr. Latham, among the bills he discounted, kept those of such more bashful customers as stipulated that their resort to temporary accommodation should be maintained a profound secret, in his own safe. Among these bills, Poole knew that there was one for 1000 pounds, given by a young nobleman of immense estates, but so entailed that he could neither sell nor mortgage and therefore often in ​need of a few hundreds for pocket money. The nobleman's name stood high. His fortune was universally known; his honor unimpeachable. A bill of his anyone would cash at sight. Could Poole but obtain that bill! It had, he believed, only a few weeks yet to run. Jasper or Madame Caumartin might get it discounted even by Lord 's own banker; and if that were too bold, by any professional bill-broker; and all three be off before a suspicion could arise. But to get at that safe a false key might be necessary. Poole suggested a waxen impression of the lock. Jasper sent him a readier contrivance a queer-looking tool that looked an instrument of torture. All now necessary was for Poole to recover sufficiently to return to business, and to get rid of Uncle Sam by a promise to run down to the country the moment Poole had conscientiously cleared some necessary arrears of work. While this correspondence went on, Jasper Losely shunned Mrs. Crane, and took his meals and spent his leisure hours with Madame Caumartin.
He needed no dressing-gown and slippers to feel himself at home there.
Madame Caumartin had really taken a showy house in a genteel street. Her own appearance was eminently what the French call dist'mgiue. Dressed to perfection, from head to foot; neat and finished as an epigram. Her face, in shape like a thoroughbred cobra capella—low, smooth frontal, widening at the summit; chin tapering, but jaw strong; teeth marvellously white, small, and with points sharp as those in the maw of the fish called the "Sea Devil;" eyes like dark emeralds, of which the pupils, when she was angry or when she was scheming, retreated upward toward the temples, emitting a luminous green ray that shot through space like the gleam that escapes from a dark lantern; complexion superlatively feminine call it not pale, but white, as if she lived on blanched almonds, peach stones and arsenic; hands so fine and so bloodless, with fingers so pointedly taper there seemed stings at their tips; manners of one who had ranged all ranks of society, from highest to lowest, and duped the most wary in each of them. Did she please it, a crown prince might have thought her youth must have passed in the chambers of porphyry! Did she please it, an old soldier would have sworn the creature had been a vivandiere. In age, perhaps bordering on forty. She looked younger, but had she been a hundred and twenty she could not have been more wicked. Ah! happy, indeed, for Sophy, if it were to save her youth from ever being fostered in elegant boudoirs by those bloodless hands, that the crippled vagabond had borne her away ​from Arabella's less cruel unkindness; better far even Rugge's village stage; better far stealthy by-lanes, feigned names, and the erudite tricks of Sir Isaac!
But still it is due even to Jasper to state here that in Losely's recent design to transfer Sophy from Waife's care to that of Madame Caumartin, the Sharper harbored no idea of a villainy so execrable as the character of the Parisienne led the jealous Arabella to suspect. But his real object in getting the child, at that time, once more into his power was (whatever its nature) harmless compared with the mildest of Arabella's dark doubts. But still, if Sophy had been regained, and the object on regaining her foiled (as it probably would have been), what then might have become of her?—lost, perhaps, forever to Waife—in a foreign land, and under such guardianship? Grave question, which Jasper Losely, who exercised so little foresight in the paramount question, viz., what, some day or other, will become of himself, was not likely to rack his brains by conjecturing!
Meanwhile Mrs. Crane was vigilant. The detective police-officer, sent to her by Mr. Rugge, could not give her the information which Rugge desired, and which she did not longer need. She gave the detective some information respecting Madame Caumartin. One day, toward the evening, she was surprised by a visit from Uncle Sam. He called ostensibly to thank her for her kindness to his godson and nephew; and to beg her not to be offended if he had been rude to Mr. Losely, who, he understood from Dolly was a particular friend of hers. "You see, ma'am, Samuel Dolly is a weak young man, and easily led astray; but, luckily for himself, he has no money and no stomach. So he may repent in time; and if I could find a wife to manage him, he has not a bad head for the main chance, and may become a practical man. Repeatedly I have told him he should go to prison, but that was only to frighten him—fact is, I want to get him safe down into the country, and he don't take to that. So I am forced to say, 'My box, home-brewed and south-down, Samuel Dolly, or a Lunnon jail, and debtors' allowance.' Must give a young man his choice, my dear lady."
Mrs. Crane, observing that what he said was extremely sensible. Uncle Sam warmed in his confidence.
"And I thought I had him, till I found Mr. Losely in his sick-room; but ever since that day, I don't know how it is, the lad has had something on his mind, which I don't half like—cracky, I think, my dear lady—cracky. I suspect that old nurse passes letters. I taxed her with it, and she immediately wanted ​to take her Bible-oath, and smelt of gin—two things which, taken together, look guilty."
"But," said Mrs. Crane, growing much interested, "if Mr. Losely and Mr. Poole do correspond, what then?"
"That's what I want to know, ma'am. Excuse me; I don't wish to disparage Mr. Losely—a dashing gent, and nothing worse, I dare say. But certain sure I am that he has put into Samuel Dolly's head something which has cracked it! There is the lad now up and dressed, when he ought to be in bed, and swearing he'll go to old Latham's to-morrow, and that long arrears of work are on his conscience! Never heard him talk of conscience before—that looks guilty! And it does not frighten him any longer when I say he shall go to prison for his debts; and he's very anxious to get me out of Lunnon; and when I threw in a word about Mr. Losely (slyly, my good lady—just to see its effect), he grew as white as that paper; and then he began strutting and swelling, and saying that Mr. Losely would be a great man, and that he should be a great man, and that he did not care for my money—that he could get as much money as he liked. That looks guilty, my dear lady. And, oh," cried Uncle Sam, clasping his hands, "I do fear that he's thinking of something worse than he has ever done before, and his brain can't stand it. And, ma'am, he has a great respect for you; and you've a friendship for Mr. Losely. Now just suppose that Mr. Losely should have been thinking of what your flash sporting gents call a harmless spree, and my sister's son should, being cracky, construe it into something criminal. Oh, Mrs. Crane, do go and see Mr. Losely, and tell him that Samuel Dolly is not safe—is not safe!"
"Much better that I should go to your nephew," said Mrs. Crane; "and with your leave I will do so at once. Let me see him alone. Where shall I find you afterward?"
"At the Gloucester Coffee-house. Oh, my dear lady, how can I thank you enough. The boy can be nothing to you; but to me, he's my sister's son—the blackguard!"