"For God's sake, Octy," gurgled Doctor Hardon almost inaudibly, so
tightly were the fingers clutching his throat,--"don't! don't! I was
only looking."
"Turn on the glim, Joe," croaked a harsh voice; when a bright light
flashed in a broad, well-defined, ever-widening path right across the
room, leaving the untouched portion in a darkness of the blackest; but
the light shone where the doctor could see his brother upon the floor,
with a rough fellow kneeling beside him, while a coarse, big-jawed
ruffian, the upper portion of whose face was covered with crape, held on
tightly by the doctor's throat with fingers whose bony force he had at
first taken for his brother's. It was evident that another man was
present holding the lantern; but from the position of the light he was
in the shadow, and so invisible.
"Light that there lamp again," croaked the same voice; and at the same
time the doctor felt himself dragged at until he rose to his feet, when
he was backed into a chair, one hand being loosened from his throat.
Directly after a heavy blow fell upon his head, causing the light to
dance and sparkle before his eyes.
"There," growled the voice; "that's jest a reminder, that is. That
didn't hurt, that didn't; but it's jest to show what we could do if yer
get to be troublesome. Now, then," growled the ruffian to his
companion, who was stooping over the fire, "light that lamp, d'yer hear?
You're gallus sharp, you are."
"Who's to light the butcherly thing when hain't got no ile in?" growled
the ruffian addressed.
"I wish you'd got a little more ile in you," croaked the first speaker
in a voice that seemed to ascend through a tubular rasp. "Hang on here,
will yer, and give us holt."
The doctor felt himself delivered over into another pair of hands, the
change not being for the better; for the new gaoler seemed to be
experimentalising, and trying to find out the best place for holding on
by when doing a little modern Thuggee, consequently the doctor's was not
a pleasant situation.
Directly after, a little oil was spilt upon the fire, causing it to
blaze up and illumine the room, displaying to the doctor's starting eyes
the three costermonger-like figures of the men in the room; when, seeing
his quiescence, the one acting as gaoler called attention to a couple of
candles in old bronze-holders upon the chimney-piece, and, loosing his
hold of his prisoner, leaned forward to reach them down.
It was a tempting moment for the doctor, and, without pausing to think
of its uselessness, he seized the bell-rope within his reach, and
dragged at it heavily. But the next instant he had fallen back in his
chair from a well-planted blow between the eyes, and then, half-stunned,
he listened to the faint tones of the bell as the men produced what
seemed to be so much clothes-line from a small carpet-bag, with which
they dexterously and firmly bound him to his chair.
"You improves, you do," growled the first ruffian to the man lighting
the candles. "Been all the same if that there jangler had alarmed the
whole blessed country."
"How was I to know as he'd jump up like so much watchworks?" said the
other, placing the lighted candles, whose tops were encrusted with ash
from the fire, upon the table.
"Know! not you; but you knows how to claim yer share of the swag."
Then the poor old man upon the floor, whose wild, staring eyes seemed to
betoken some violent seizure, was lifted into a chair opposite his
brother, and bound after the same fashion, when the spokesman of the
party shook the heavy leaden knob of that misnamed article a
life-preserver in the doctor's face, saying: "Don't you try no more
games, my kiddy, or else"--a playful tap illustrated his meaning.
"She's safe in bed, and tied up so as she won't answer no ringing nohow.
She's tucked up all right, she is; d'yer hear?"
The preserver-handle was very elastic, and the knob tapped playfully
upon the doctor's forehead as the ruffian spoke; but the bound man was
too confused to answer, and though what followed seemed to him like a
wild dream, yet his heart leaped once as he saw the fellow snatch the
will from the floor, where it had fallen, tear open the seal, and hold
the paper to the light.
"What's in it, Bill?" growled another of the gentry.
"Gallussed if I know," said the other; "but 'tain't no good;" and the
doctor saw it crushed together and thrown upon the fire, where it blazed
up and was soon consumed. But confused as the doctor was, the next
proceedings of the ruffians produced groan after groan from his breast,
as they attacked his vanity, and metaphorically rolled him in the dust;
for removing a fur cap that he wore, so as to cool his brain perhaps,
and displaying thereby a very closely-cropped bullet-head, the leader of
the gang, as he seemed to be, first snapped the doctor's gold-chain, and
set it and watch at liberty; for the doctor's bonds would have impeded
their being taken off in the normal fashion. Then followed, one after
the other, to be placed in a small carpet-bag with the watch and chain,
the spectacle-case and gold eyeglass; the handsomely-chased gold
snuff-box from one pocket, gold toothpick from another. The set of
studs were dragged from the cambric front; a massively-set diamond ring
from the doctor's right hand, and a signet from his left; while as the
various ornaments were passed from one to the other, and deposited in
the bag, a broad grin followed each groan from the doctor.
"Where's his puss, Bill?" said Number 8 ruffian, who was the Judas
Iscariot of the party, and carried the bag.
"Here it is," growled Bill, whose hands were wonderfully active for so
heavy, burly-looking a man, diving in and out of pocket after pocket,
and now drawing forth a very handsome, elaborately-gilt, russia-leather
portemonnaie--half purse, half pocket-book--and grinning as he opened
it, he drew out and laid upon the table, first a railway insurance
ticket, next a lancet, then a crooked sixpence, and lastly a
threepenny-piece.
"Here, lay holt o' this 'ere, and slit it up," said Number 2 ruffian,
handing his companion an open clasp-knife.
The gentleman called Bill took the knife and ripped the purse all to
pieces, tearing leather from lining everywhere; but no notes fell out,
no secret pocket was disclosed; and throwing the remains of the purse
upon the fire with an aspect of the most profound disgust upon his face,
the fellow exclaimed, "I'm gallussed!"
"Let's wet it, Bill, afore we goes any further," said Number 8, and as
he crossed silently to the sideboard, and brought out the port and
another decanter, the doctor saw that the men were without boots, which
accounted to him for their sudden attack.
The wine and glasses were placed upon the table, and the burglars very
coolly proceeded to refresh themselves--one seating himself upon the
table, another upon a chair, and the last taking his place upon the
coal-scuttle--treating it as if it were a saddle.
"Here's towards yer, old un!" growled the big-jawed gentleman called
Bill, tossing, or rather pouring, a glass of wine down his bull throat
as he looked at the doctor--his companions paying the same compliment to
Octavius, who, however, seemed to be perfectly insensible.
All at once a faint scream was heard from another part of the house,
when one of the men rose.
"She thinks as we're gone, Bill," said ruffian Number 2, with a grin.
"Just go and show her that mug of yours, and she'll soon shut them
pipes."
Bill of the big jaw rose, displaying his teeth so that the lips seemed
to assimilate with the gums; and he, apparently taking his comrade's
remark for a compliment, walked out on the points of his toes, in a
peculiar fashion of his own; when, winking to his companion, Number 2
stole softly to the sideboard, looked about a bit, and then seizing a
small silver salver, doubled it by main force, and slipped it into the
pocket of his velveteen coat. He then darted back to his place,
whispered "halves" to his companion, and began helping himself to more
wine, just as Bill hurried in again, glancing suspiciously about him
with his peculiarly restless, chameleon-like eyes, which seemed to be on
the watch for plunder, trickery, and Nemesis, at one and the same time,
and now it was evident that he suspected a march to have been stolen
upon him.
However, a few more glasses of wine were drunk, and then the men
proceeded to methodically ransack the place, finding a tolerable booty
of old-fashioned plate in the sideboard; while from the bureau, another
gold watch, with its old-fashioned broad chain and seals; a ring or two,
some quaint jewellery, and a few sovereigns and small change were
obtained.
The cords which bound the brothers were then carefully examined, and a
knot or two tightened, so that the doctor winced; then the candles were
extinguished, and the big-jawed man growled in the doctor's ear, "Now,
jest you move, that's all; and I'm gallussed--"
The fellow did not finish his speech verbally, but again illustrated his
meaning with a tap of the life-preserver.
"We ain't a-goin' yet," growled Number 8; "so don't you think it. I
_have_ used this 'ere, and I ain't used it," he said, showing his
clasp-knife; "but it's a sharp un--so I tell you; and where it does go,
it goes--so look out."
"This one's been a-drinkin'; smell his breath," said Number 2, nodding
at old Octavius, as he cast the light from the lantern upon his wild
face.
Just then the doctor gave a loud groan, for his cords hurt him.
"Shove a bit in his mouth, Bill, or he'll begin to pipe, p'r'aps,"
growled Number 8.
"He'd best not," said Bill savagely; "but how-so-be he shall have it;
there's some knives in that there drawer."
Doctor Hardon's eyes rolled in their sockets as he saw one of the men go
to the sideboard drawer and bring out a large table-knife. Then the
head of the party took it from his companion's hand and held the blade
between the bars, where the fire yet glowed, when the effect in a few
minutes was to loosen the handle, for the resin melted, and the blade
slipped out. The man then took the handle, untied and slipped off the
doctor's white cravat, and then turning his back, rolled the knife-haft
tightly in its folds; while, wondering what was to follow, the
horror-stricken captive began to groan dismally.
"Now for it," cried Bill sharply, seizing the bound and helpless man by
the throat, when, fancying that his last hour had come, the doctor
opened his mouth to cry out, when the knife-handle was thrust between
his teeth, and the cravat tightly tied behind his head, keeping the gag
securely in its place, and thoroughly robbing him of the power of even
crying out.
"Now t'other," said Bill. "Get another knife out."
"Ah! he's all right," said Number 2. "I'd leave him."
"P'r'aps you would," said Bill; "but we two don't want to be blowed on,
if you do."
"But he's a-most dead now," said Number 2; "and if you stop his mouth
that way, I'm blessed if I don't think he will be quite afore morning."
"And what then?" said Bill contemptuously; "what if he is? What's the
good of an old cove like him? Yah!"
However, that part of the ceremony was left undone. The doctor heard
the door close, open again, for the key to be dragged out of the lock
and replaced in the other side; when once more the door was closed and
double-locked. Then followed the sound as of a whispered dispute, and
again silence, till it was broken by a faint scream from upstairs;
while, with every nerve on the stretch, the doctor listened for the next
movement, as, still somewhat confused in mind, he kept fancying that the
stertorous breathing of his brother was that of one of the ruffians on
guard at the door.
An hour must have passed, during which time the doctor still fancied
there was a man on guard, and dared not move, though at that time the
three visitors were coolly taking their tickets of a sleepy porter, the
only one of the railway company's servants in charge of the station, and
soon after they were being whirled up by the night mail which called at
Somesham for the letter-bags at two o'clock. But at last, as the
doctor's mind became clearer, he made out that the breathing must be
that of his brother; and rousing himself, he tried to free his hands.
The cord only cut deeply into his plump flesh, though, and a sharp pain
was the sole result, though he could tell that his arms and legs were
swelling, and that the circulation was almost stopped. He tried to get
rid of the gag in his mouth, but only made it press the harder upon his
false teeth, so that the gold setting seemed almost to crush his gums.
Then he waited awhile, to gain strength, and as his head grew clearer,
he recalled how that the will had been destroyed, and thought of how,
had he known what was to happen, he would have opened and read it. If
now Octavius would neglect to make another! He was old and helpless,
and no doubt getting to be imbecile--at least, in his doctorial eyes;
and if he would but neglect to make another! Then he remembered how the
villains had denuded his person, and he writhed with fury so that his
chair cracked.
Back to the thoughts of the will and of Septimus Hardon; and for a time
so deep was his musing, that the doctor almost forgot his own position
till the pain recalled him, and he found he was fast growing numb and
cold.
All at once a terrible shudder ran through his frame, for a rustling and
squeaking behind the oak wainscot startled him.
"Rats!" he thought to himself; and he recalled how the house was said to
swarm with them, and how that they had once attacked a child in bed.
Started upon that train of thought, there were plenty of anecdotes to
startle him with the reputed courage of the fierce little animals when
hunger-driven.
Another hour passed in the darkness, as regularly and slow came the
stertorous breathing of Octavius, interrupted at times by the fierce
scratching of the rats behind the wainscot, or their scampering beneath
the floor in their many galleries; and again and again the doctor
shivered with fear, as he sat listening and longing for help.
But no help came--neither was it likely to come, since the lonely house
might have been passed again and again without there being a suspicion
excited of anything being wrong. Besides, late in the night it was a
great chance if a soul passed. He knew, from his professional habits,
that no surprise would be felt at home because of his absence, and he
had not said where he was going.
Another hour passed, and the doctor sat listening eagerly for his
brother's breath, which, from being loud and stertorous, had now become
so faint as to be hardly perceptible; indeed at times it appeared to
have ceased, and in his then excited condition he began to dread that
the overdose of laudanum, or the shock, had been too much for the old
man, and that he was to pass the remainder of the night with a corpse.
He dreaded the corpse horribly, but did he dread that such was the
case--that his brother was dead? He was old and useless certainly, but
he was rich, and his will was destroyed; and were there no Septimus, or
could he be put aside, that property would come to him. But was his
brother dead? Death was nothing new to him; he had stood by hundreds of
deathbeds; but under these circumstances, bound down there, with nerves
unstrung, numbed, cold, and in agony, Doctor Hardon had at times a
difficult matter to contain himself, and he trembled fearfully with a
new horror lest he should lose control over himself.
He listened, and the breathings had ceased; the only sounds he could
hear were the horrible gnawings of the vermin. At last, though, he
heard a breath; but he shuddered again, for his excited fancy told him
that it was the harsh, rattling expiration that he had often heard--that
last effort of the lungs ere stilled for ever.
The tearing and scratching of the vermin now grew louder, and the doctor
asked himself why? as, beside himself with horror, he sat listening.
His temples throbbed, the cold sweat stood upon his face, and he
struggled again and again to free himself, but only to tighten the
well-tied knots. At times he could hardly breathe, while at last a
thrill ran through him--a thrill of indescribable terror--such a shock
as would have made him yell, had he been able; for quickly, and with a
sharp scratching, he felt something run up one of his bound legs, across
his lap, and then he heard the soft "pat" as a rat leaped upon the
carpet.
Doctor Hardon could bear no more; horrible, stifled groans burst from
his breast, as, mad with dread, he leaped and bounded spasmodically in
his seat, making the cords cut deeply into his flesh till, in one of his
agonised convulsions, the chair went over backwards with a crash; when,
stunned and helpless, the wretched man lay in a wild dream of horror,
from which he only awoke to relapse again and again.
Volume One, Chapter XIII.