Rensselaer Republican, Volume 18, Number 19, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 14 January 1886 — ENTOMOLOGY EXTRAORDINARY. [ARTICLE]

ENTOMOLOGY EXTRAORDINARY.

Ail English Story. “Oh! Charlie, the new people who liann tftlrcn TiamrffirijJVilla sent for yOU this aiternoon,” exclaimed my wife, in breathless excitement,” as she opened the door for me. “Just like my luck, to be out of the way when” such a chance came,” I growled. “But it's all right, dear,” replied Kitty cheerfully. “1 told Mr. Rangel I expected you back every minute, and he left word that you were to go to them as soon as possible.” “Did he say what it was?” “I believe he did, but I did hot pay much attention to it. It is no matter what it is so long as yon are called id.” It may be surmised from the above conversation that the “cases” were not of daily occurrence to me. I had only been sjx months at Kreleigh, and so far the appeals to my skill from paying patients had been lew and far between. It is true that I had every opportunity of improving myself by practicing on the poorer members of the community, who “fee'd” me with blessings on my skill or curses on my ignorance, as the spirit or spirits moved them- But, although experience is valuable to a medical man, something more is Required to keep himself, his wife, and a three months’ old baby. And we were beginning to think we had made a mistake in settling at Kreleigh, end handing over most of our available capital to the canny fccqtch doctor, who showed such satisfactory books, but quite omitted to mention that when his practice was so flourishing. he had been in partnership with a popular Dr. Sale, who hud since separatedfrom him in anger, taking almost all the patients with him. Under these circumstances, TtT waq not surprising that my wife was in the greatest state of excitement when the new .arrivals sent for me, or that I groaned in spirit when I thought I had missed my luck, and that my hopes bounded •up to the zenith of joyful expectancy •when I learned that it was still to be any privilege to prescribe for the interesting patient or patients. A thousand dreams of future greatness, rose before my mind's eye as I hurried along. I had already succeeded jin imagination Bir William Jenner as Queen’s physician, and quite eclipsed Sir William Gun, when I reached the corner of the road leading to Langford Villa. The Bouse was a red-brick, semi-detached residence, of which one sees a thousand counterparts in the various suburbs of London. There was a baywindow to the drawing-room, with a gay flower-box around it; there was a little strip of fancy garden in front, «nd the same amount of grass or gravel ■at'the back. Langford Villa was the property of a Mrs. Brockman, from whose health I had beep led to expect great things, but who was ordered abroad by a selfish London physician and thus took her ailments and|guineas to the medicos of other lands. The lady had let her house furnished to Mr. Rangel, who was partner in a most respectable firm of solicitors. Mr. Rangel hastened out to the hall to meet me, and told me that he had been anxiously expecting me for some time. I observed, carelessly, that it had been a busy day with me, but that now*l had half an hour at his disposal. He then explained that it was for Mrs. Rangel he wished my advice. She had been imprudent in exposing herself to the night air, and now complained of a sore throat, and Was so feverish that her husband became alarmed and sent , for me; The lady was certainly Buffering from « severe cold, and I found her throat much ulcerated. Even under these disfiguring circumstances her rare beauty and sweet, iqnocent expression attracted my admiration and attention, and I did not wonder at the husband’s affection for such a wife or at his dread Of losing her. “No danger, I hope? Nothing of typhoid or that sort of thing?” he said anxiously, as he went down stairs. I assured him that, in my opinion, there was no cause for alarm at present, and that if my directions were strictly followed out, I trusted Mrs. Rantrel would be able to be about again in a few days. Mr. Rangel brightened no consider-

able when lio heard this, and we* chatted pleasantly together for some time. As he opened the gate for me he slipped a guinea into my itching palm. My first impulse was to toss the welcome coin up into the air, and execute a eaper of triumphant delight; but I res sted the temptation, and pocketed the honorarium with that affectation of unconsciousness which is invariably assumed by the disciples of yEsculapius on such like occasions. On mv return I found Kitty brimful of feminine curiosity to hear all about my new case. Not less fanciful and sanguine than myself, she already foresaw all sorts of splendid results arising from this visit. I expatiated upon the charming friendly manner of Mr. Rangel, and, of course, in a far less enthusiastic manner upon the beauty of his wife and the sweet simplicity of her expression! Kitty, who is not so averse as some of her sex to hearing any other woman praised, was greatly interested in all I told her, and declared that as soon as Mrs. Rangel was strong again she would call and make lieit acquaintance. This was done in due course, and we found our new neighbors very charming and pleasant people. Mr. Rangel was a most agreeable man of the world, full of anecdote aud information; and his wife won our hearts by her artless manner and her beauty. We were all musical, and there was scarcely a week we had not one or two delightful evenings together, either at our house or at Langford Villa. Nor were we the only people who appreciated the attractive couple; they had soon quite a large circle of friends—our rector and his family being among the most intimate. For three months all went merry as a marriage bell. I had even glided into some sort of respectable practice, all because I was “getting to be properly known,” as Kitty remarked; and, rightly or wrongly, we dated the turn of our luck frem the day Mr. Rangel called me in to attend his wife, and we felt grateful to them accordingly. About 11:30 one night, I was roused, up by a violent ringing of my bell, and I found the Rangels’ servant at my door in a great state of excitement. begged of me to go to her mistress, who ‘was took real bad—something to do with master,” she thought; but she knew' nothing, and had run over for me as quickly as possible, leaving Mrs. Rangel alone, as the cook had left the previous day, and her successor had not yet arrived, I hastened to Langford Villa, but there was no smiling Mr.. Rangel to receive me, nor was he with the poor little creature, who was in violent hysterics in the drawing-room, her golden hair being all in disorder, and her pretty face contorted by terror and grief.

“What brought this on? Where is Mr. Rangel ?” I asked hastily of the servant. The girl knew nothing except that Mr. Rangel had left for the city at the usual hour that morning, saying that he would not be back until the last train, as lie was engaged to dine with a friend. Mrs. Rangel had sent her to bed a little after 10, saying she would wait up and let Mr. Rangel in, and she was roused out of her sleep by violent ringing of the bell and screaming. She tushed up stairs and found her mistress going on as if she had lost her senses, dashing herself about, shrieking and clutching a letter which she still held in her hand. From the incoherent words Mrs. Rangel let drop, the servant gathered that something had happened to Mr. Rangel, and she thought it best to go for me at once. I did all I could for the poor little woman, who soon dropped back, quite exhausted by her struggles. I hoped she would sleep, but in a few moments she arousea herself with a wailing cry, and when she recognized me, she exclaimed piteously:, —-Ph, do try to fiajd him! I* may not yet be too late!” “What is it?” I asked gently. “As yon are aware, I would do anything to help you, but I know nothing. Has Mr. Raugal met with an accident? 1 * “Worse —worse!” she cried hysterically: “read that!” She thrust the crumpled letter into my hand, and burying her face in the cushions, sobbed in the most heartrending manner. As I read the letter I no longer wondered at her grief and dispair. It was from Mr. Rangel, but bore no address. He wrote:

‘"When you get this letter, my darling, the wretched'man you call husband will have ceased to exist. With heartfelt contrition I confess the weakness and wickedness which for years I have kept secret in my own bosom. I am a gambler. “I have not only lost every penny that was lawfully ours, but I raised J£J,OOO on a forged bill, which the Westminster Bank cashed. I had every expects tion of being able to take it up when it fell due to-day, but the man I mast counted on failed me at the last moment, and nothing but ruin and disgrace stare me in the face. I can, at least, save you from the ignommy of being a felon’s wife, and leave you free to bestow your hand on a worthier mail in the years to come. *Tlove you so unselfishly that I consider the sacrifice of mv useless life, as nothing, if it lightens the burden my mad weakness has thrown upon you. “I am sure the 'Malbys and all our other kind friends will comfort and' advise you in your hour of trial. I pray they may not visit" my shame and guilt on your ’innocent head, but stand by you and keop you to some brighter future. God bless yon, my darling! Your loving and wretched husband, Kiuhard Bangel.” My own eyes were misty as I read the letter. I grieved for the man himself, whom I had grown to like, and whose fatal and desperate act shocked me beyond all power of expression; b»t I grieved doubly for the stricken, helpless creature before me, left desolate and crushed by her hnsband’s tragic death, and I solemnly resolved to strain every nerye to do what I could to alleviate her sad lot, and to induce others to come forward and help too. So by way of a beginning, 1 sent Kitty over at once to stay the night with Mrs. After the first outburst of her grief had passed, the little woman showed wonderful fortitude and self control, and 4 astonished ns all by the gentle submission and calm courage with which she faced her altered life. The most searching inquiries threw no light on Mr. Rangel’s last hours, or on the mode of his death. No one had seen him in the city beyond his nsnal hour, neither conld thR person be discovered by whom he Sent the letter. All that Mrs. Rangel knew was that just about IRe time her husband Was due there wgs a ring at the hall doqjt.

and she at once went ont to open it. When she did so, a man threw in the letter and ran away. Greatly frightened and perplexed, she tore it open and thus learned what had happened. The porter at onr railway station had not observed any stranger arrive by . the last train, though one hour early they had both noticed a tall, sandy-haired man, who walked off in the direction of. Langford Villa. If this was the person, what had he done with himself during tho hour, and how had he returned? Poor Mrs. Rangel could give us no assistance, as she had been too agitated to remember anything of the hurried glimpse she got of the bearer of the fatal tidings. There were those in our community who considered Rangel a thoroughpaced scoundrel, and refused to believe that he had committed suicide at all, declaring he had run away from liis wife and creditors, equally anxious to be free of both. But I, who knew the Rangels most intimately, and had been witness of the tender affection which subsisted between the husband and wife, angrily scouted such an idea, and was quite convinced that podr Mrs. Rangel was a widow indued. Of course she was altogether quite destitute of means of support, so we got up a little subscription among ourselves, which was supplemented by some city friends, until it reached about £9(). The rector, too, had made Mrs. Brockman acquainted with all details of the sad story, and the goodhearted woman at once wrote to the young widow, and told her that she might remain in the house, rent free, until her own return the following year. ■'* * • The moment we heard this it struck us that-it would be an excellent thing if Mrs. Rangel were to let two c&f the rooms, and we suggested the idea to her. At first the little woman showed a great objection to doing so. She was naturally retiring and shy, and shrank from having a stranger in the house. She was, moreover, too young and pretty to receive a young gentleman lodger, and, like most women, she had a horror of one of her own sex, as likely to be too exacting and in the house all day. It seemed difficult to avoid one or other of the objectionable species; but in the midst of our perplexity, a most eligible person appeared onjtlie scene, “just as if lie had been specially made for poor Mrs. Rangel’s rooms,” as Kitty enthusiastically remarked, when she had seen him and heard all about him. This was a certain Mr. Crusher,, who arrived, bringing with him a letter of introduction from one of the late Mr. Rangel’s acquaintances, who had heard of Mrs. Rangel’s circumstances, and expressed himself delighted to help her in any way. Mr. Crusher, he said, was devoted to the pursuit of entomological studies, and just then wished to find some quiet, respectable house where hecould compile his great work on “The Individual Disposition and Habits Exhibited by the Common Domestic Black Beetle.” The gentleman, might perhaps, be a little eccentric, but as he would pay well and require scarcely any attendance, be appeared to his introducer to be specially suitable in every way. We all came to the same conclusion when we saw him, and oven poor Mrs. Rangel laughed heartily when describing to us the appearance of the entomologist. He was a tall, lank man, of so mummified and fossilized an aspect that he might be any age from 50 to 500. He wore a greenish brown wig and lightly-cropped mutton-chop whiskers of a dark-red color. We never got a look at his eyes, as he constantly covered them up with a huge pair of blue goggles. His dress, too, was au antiquated looking as his person.—He wore nld-lashioned snnfi-col-ored garments, the peaks of his collars came well up his cheeks, and a high black stock made him look as if his head were fastened to his body by means of a block of wood instead of a neck. He was slow and stiff m his words and movements, and apparently so absorbed in bis own thoughts as to be oblivions to all that went on around him: He brought a large box of entomological books and several cases of dried specimens, which Hannah, the servant, declared gave her “the creeps to look nigh.”

But when, in addition to these defunct creatures, Mr. Crusher arranged his captured living specimens under glasses, all over the chimney-piece and tables, the disgust and terrors of the female inmates of Langford 'Villa became intense, and they were always careful to tuck up their skirts when passing his precincts, to avoid gathering up any stray beetle which may have made its escape from, or been set free by, the lodger. Eariv every morning this lodger was to be seen peering about the back and front garden, inspecting the ground and the walls, and returning with some insect for the day’s observation. But so far Mr. Crusher’s habits, if objectionable, were comparatively harmless. When, however, Hannah suddenly came across him one night on the cellar stairs, and mistaking him for Mr. Rangel’s ghost (which he declared walked), went off into, violent hysterics, the affair became very disagreeable. Mrs. Rangel remonstrated with her lodger, but he would not be brought to see that he was at all to blame. The creatures to whom he was devoted came out more readily in the dark, he said, and exhibited their interesting peculiarities more finely when they believed none o£ their natural enemies were near. Mrs. Rangel appeared to us to think more seriously of the affair than it deserved, but we could make every allowance for her being nervous and excitable after such a shoch as she had received. , , ' For some little time after Mr. Crusher .refrained from his nocturnal expeditions ; but then he offended more deeply than before, for, not cpntent with seeking his beetles in the lower regions, he had actually pursued one energetic specimen up stairs, and arrived at Mrs. Rangel’s dressing-room just as the creature- disappeared under the door. Into this dressing-room the little widow had put all her husband’s belongings, and locked up, until such time as she conld bracu herself for the melancholy task of going over the clothes and

papers, and finally arranging and disposing 6t them. She had, in fact, converted the Apartment into a shrine oi sanctuary, into whose hallowed precincts she never allowed any one to set foot but herself. Judge, then, of hei startled feelings when she heard thx handle of the door of this room gently tried, and, rnshing terrified ont of hei own room, came upon Mr. Crusher, in dressing-gown and slippers, peeping under the doorsilL The lady’s indignant and almost terical demand for an explanation for his presence in the forbidden region, Mr. Crusher coolly "stated what had brought him there, and finished up by asking Mrs. Rangel to be so kind as tc unlock the door and let him observe what his cherished object was doiug inside. The widow’s reply was an angry command that he should suit himsell with other apartments before that day week, and when we heard all the circumstances of the case, we could no) blame a young, unprotected woman foi objecting to a male lodger who prowled about the house at unorthodox hours, and even had the‘audacity to show himself just outside her own room. The evening before Mr. Crusher wae to leave Mrs. Rangel’s a little street boy arrived at our house in breathless haste to say that the servant at Langford Villa had called’ out for him ta run for us and ask us to go there as quick as possible, as something dreadful had happened. We lost no time in obeying tue summons, wondering greatly what could have taken place.

A cab, with the driver and another man on the box, was at the gate, the hall-door was wide open, and it was evident that a commotion of some sqrl was going on inside. We entered, and no one appearing to announce our arrival, we walked straight into the draw-ing-room, where ’a truly marvelous scene inet our puzzled vision. Struggling in the of a tall, dark man, whose gait was somewhat familiar tc me, was our charming little friend Mrs. Rangel, but the impulse which urged me for the moment to make some desperate effort to release her was effectually checked by the stream of abuse and bad language which flowed unceasingly from her lovely lips, and was finally extinguished by the sight of the defunct Mr. Rangel himself. I stared in blank amazement, but there he was, worn and haggard, but most indisputably alive; moreover, his hands Jwere adorned by a pair of handcuffs, and the stolid village policeman sat by his side, looking as if he had but a very faint idea of what it was all about, “What on earth is the meaning of all this?” Haltered. “I’m a detective, Bir,” said Mr. Crusher laconically, as Mrs. Rangel ceased her struggles and her vituperations, and flushed scalet with shame. It was indeed Mr. Crusher. I recognized his voice and his figure, although he had discarded the blue goggles and the brown wig. “But I don’t understand,” I continued.

“I’ve had a warrant out against this gent for months,” he said, his professional pride prompting him to furthei explanations; “forgery and embezzlement, sir; took a lot of trouble to nafc him; but the beetles did it.” “But what has Mrs. Rangel done?” “Mrs. Rangel! Bless your innocence, she ain’t Mrs. Rangel! Oh, she’s a deep un, she is?” he continued, contemplating our lovely neighbor with involuntary admiration; “been hiding him in this very house all these months; almost a pity she’s got to be took for being mixed up in the affair. Now, then. Smith, it’s time we were moving. Yon bring the gentleman along, and I’ll look after you, madam; by your leave, please.” And escorted Mr. Crusher and his stolid subordinate, Mr. and Mrs. Rangel disappeared from our astonished gaze forever.