THE ARISTOCRATIC VILLAIN AND THE LOW
MISCREANT.
On the northern side of the Thames there is no continuously direct way
along the bank for any great distance: to walk, for instance, from
London Bridge to Vauxhall Bridge, one would be compelled to take many
turnings, and deviate materially from the course shaped by the sinuosity
of the stream. But on the southern side of the Thames, one may walk from
the foot of London Bridge to that of Vauxhall, without scarcely losing
sight of the river.
In this latter instance, the way would lie along Clink Street, Bankside,
and Holland Street, to reach Blackfriars Bridge; the Commercial Road to
Waterloo Bridge; the Belvidere Road, and Pedlar's Acre, to Westminster
Bridge; and Stangate, the Bishop's Walk, and Fore Street, to reach
Vauxhall Bridge.
This journey would not occupy nearly so much time as might be supposed
ere a second thought was devoted to the subject; and yet how large a
section of the diameter of London would have been traversed!
A portion of the path just detailed is denominated Pedlar's Acre; and it
lies between Westminster and Hungerford Bridges. Adjoining the
thoroughfare itself is an acre of ground, which is the property of the
parish, and is let as a timber-yard. Tradition declares that it was
given by a pedlar to the parish, on condition that the picture of
himself and his dog be preserved, in stained glass, in one of the
windows of Lambeth church; and in support of this legend, such a
representation may indeed be seen in the south-east window of the middle
aisle of the church just mentioned. Nevertheless, one of those
antiquaries whose sesquipedalian researches are undertaken with a view
to elucidate matters of this kind,—a valueless labour,—has declared that
the land was bequeathed to the parish, in the year 1504, by some person
totally unknown. Be the origin of the grant and the name of the donor as
they may, there _is_ such a place as Pedlar's Acre; and it is to a
public-house in this thoroughfare that we must now request our readers
to accompany us.
Seated in a private room on the first floor was a gentlemanly-looking
man, of about six-and-thirty years of age. His face was decidedly
handsome; but it had a downcast and sinister expression little
calculated to prepossess a stranger in this person's favour. There was
also a peculiar curl—more wicked than haughty—about his lip, that seemed
to speak of strongly concentrated passions: the deep tones of his voice,
the peculiar glance of his large grey eyes, and the occasional
contraction of his brow denoted a mind resolute in carrying out any
purpose it might have formed.
He was dressed with some degree of slovenliness; as if he had not
leisure to waste upon the frivolity of self-adornment, or as if his
means were not sufficient to permit that elegance of wardrobe which
could alone stimulate his pride in the embellishment of his person.
A glass of steaming punch stood untouched near him.
It was six o'clock in the evening; and he was evidently waiting for some
one.
His patience was not, however, put to a very severe test; for scarcely
had five minutes elapsed after his arrival, when the door opened, and
the Resurrection Man entered the room.
"Good evening, Mr. Vernon," he said, as he carefully closed the door
behind him: then, taking a seat, he observed, "I hope I have not kept
you waiting."
"Oh! never mind that," exclaimed Vernon, impatiently. "Have you any good
news to communicate?"
"I am sorry to say that I have not. I called this morning upon the clerk
of the parish church where your brother was married, and tried him in
all ways."
"And he refused?" said Vernon, with an angry tone.
"He refused," answered Tidkins. "He is timid and old; and, after having
first entertained the subject, at length backed out of it altogether."
"Because you did not offer him enough," cried Vernon, savagely: "because
you did not show him gold! You are only lukewarm in this affair: you are
afraid to risk a few miserable pounds in the business. This is not the
way to conduct a grand project of such a nature. It is true that I am
fearfully embarrassed for funds at this moment; but if you had acted
with liberality—if we eventually succeeded—you _must_ be well aware that
my generosity would know no bounds."
[Illustration]
"Mr. Vernon," said the Resurrection Man, coolly, "if you have nothing
better than reproaches to offer as the reward of my exertions in your
behalf, we should do well to separate at once. I was _not_ niggard in my
offers to the clerk: I spread fifty golden sovereigns before him—told
him to take them, and promised as much more when he had done the job.
But he hesitated—reflected—and at length positively refused altogether."
"And you really believe there is no hope in that quarter?" said Vernon,
anxiously.
"None. If the old clerk would ever agree to serve us, he would have
consented this morning. I know the man now: he is too timid to suit our
purposes. But let us look calmly at the whole business, and devise
another mode of proceeding," added the Resurrection Man. "You are still
determined, by some means or other, to get possession of the estates of
your elder brother?"
"My resolution is even increased by every fresh obstacle," replied
Vernon. "I have two powerful objects to accomplish—revenge and ambition.
Lord Ravensworth has treated me with a cruelty and a contempt that would
goad the most meek and patient to study the means of vengeance. Our late
father always intended the ready money, of which he _could_ dispose, to
come to me, because the estates were entailed upon my brother. But my
father died suddenly, and intestate; and my brother, although he well
knew our parent's intentions, grasped all—gave me nothing! No—I am
wrong," added Vernon, with exceeding bitterness of tone and manner; "he
agreed to allow me five hundred pounds a-year, as a recompense for the
loss of as many thousands!"
"And you accepted the offer?" said the Resurrection Man.
"I accepted it as a beggar receives alms sooner than starve," continued
Vernon: "I accepted it because I had nothing: I had not the means of
existence. But I accepted it also as an instalment of my just due—and
not as a concession on the part of his bounty. My habits are naturally
extravagant: my expenses are great—I cannot check myself in that
respect. Thus am I perpetually obtaining advances from my brother's
agent; and now I have not another shilling to receive until next
January."
"Nearly a year!" exclaimed the Resurrection Man. "But if you was to call
on the agent——"
"Absurd!" ejaculated Vernon. "Have I not told you that my brother
believes me still to be in the East—still travelling in Turkey? So long
as he supposes me far away, I can carry on my projects in London with
far greater security. In a word, it is much safer that my presence in
this country should remain a profound secret. He will die shortly—he
_must_ die—he is daily, steadily parting with vitality. He is passing
out of existence by a sure, a speedy, and yet an inexplicable
progression of decay. Of _his_ death, then, I am sure; and when it shall
occur, how can suspicion attach itself to me—since I am supposed to be
abroad—far away?"
"You are certain that your brother is hastening towards the grave?" said
the Resurrection Man. "The great obstacle—the greatest, I mean—will be
thereby removed. Suppose that Lady Ravensworth should be delivered of a
boy, would it not be equally easy——"
"Yes—it would be easy to put it out of the way by _violence_," was the
rapid reply; "but, then, I should risk my neck at the same time that I
gained a fortune. No—that will not do! I could not incur a danger of so
awful a nature. The infant heir to vast estates would be jealously
protected—attentively watched—surrounded by all wise precautions:—no—it
were madness to think of practising aught against its life."
"Could not the same means by which—even though at a distance—you are
undermining the life of your brother——"
"No—no," replied Vernon, impatiently. "It is not necessary that I should
explain to you the precise nature of the means by which I succeed in
effecting Lord Ravensworth's physical decay; suffice it to state that
those means could not be applied to a child."
"Nevertheless," continued the Resurrection Man, "you must have an agent
at Ravensworth Park; for if—as I suppose—your brother is dying by means
of slow poison, there is some confidential creature of your own about
his person to administer the drugs."
"I have no agent at Ravensworth;—I have no confidential creature about
my brother's person;—and I have so combined my measures that Lord
Ravensworth _is actually committing suicide—dying by his own hand_!
Another time I will expound all this to you; for to _you_ alone have I
communicated my projects."
"Have you not explained yourself to Greenwood?" demanded the
Resurrection Man. "I thought you told me, the last time we met, that he
knew you well—and knew also that you are in England?"
"I was acquainted with him some four or five years ago, when he was not
so prosperous as he is—or as he appears to be—at present," replied
Vernon; "but having been abroad since that time until my return last
week, I had lost sight of him—and had even forgotten him. It was not a
little provoking to run against him the very first day of my arrival in
London; and, though I endeavoured to avoid him, he persisted in speaking
to me."
"You are not afraid that he will gossip about your presence in London?"
said the Resurrection Man.
"He promised me most faithfully to keep the fact a profound secret,"
returned Vernon.
"And will he not advance you a small sum for your present purposes?"
demanded Tidkins.
"I called on him last evening, in consequence of the suggestion
contained in your note;—I requested a loan for a particular purpose;—but
he refused to oblige me," added Vernon, his brow contracting. "I wish
that I had not so far humbled myself by asking him."
"No matter for that," said Tidkins: "we are wandering from our subject.
Here is the substance of the whole affair:—Lord Ravensworth will soon be
gathered to his fathers, as they say: but in the meantime Lady
Ravensworth may have a child. If it is a daughter, you are all safe; if
it is a son you are all wrong. I don't know how it is—I'm not
superstitious—but in these matters, where a good fellow like yourself is
within reach of a fortune, and whether you are to get it or not depends
on the sex of an expected infant,—in such cases, I say, the card
generally does turn up wrong. Now if the child should be a boy, what
will you do?"
"I cannot consent to abandon the plan of bribing the clerk to destroy
the leaf in the register," answered Vernon.
"Pshaw! the project is bad—I told you so all along. See how the matter
would stand," continued Tidkins:—"Lord Ravensworth dies and leaves, we
will suppose, an infant heir—a son. Then you suddenly make your
appearance, and demand proofs of your brother's marriage. The register
is searched—a leaf is missing—it is the one which contains the record of
the union celebrated between Lord Ravensworth and Miss Adeline Enfield!
Would not this seem very extraordinary? would it not create suspicions
that Lord Ravensworth may not have died fairly? No—your project, Mr.
Vernon, will never do: It is baseless—shallow—childish. It is unworthy
of you. If you persist in it, I shall wash my hands of the business:—if
you will follow my advice, you shall be Lord Ravensworth before you are
a year older."
Vernon could not conceal a sentiment of admiration for that man who thus
dexterously reasoned on his plans, and thus boldly promised that
consummation to which he so fondly aspired.
"Speak, Mr. Tidkins," he said; "we have met to consult on the necessary
course to be adopted."
"Let us come, then, boldly to the point," continued the Resurrection
Man, sinking his voice to a whisper: "rest patiently for the confinement
of Lady Ravensworth, which, you have learnt, is expected to take place
in six weeks;—if the issue is a girl, you need trouble yourself no more
in the business, but calmly wait till death does its work with Lord
Ravensworth."
"And if the issue be a boy?" said Vernon, gazing fixedly on his
companion's countenance.
"It must be put out of the way," answered the Resurrection Man, in a
low, but stern tone; "and you may trust to me that the business shall be
done in such a manner as to endanger no one's neck."
"You think—you imagine that it can be done——" said Vernon,
hesitatingly—but still with that kind of hesitation which is prepared to
yield and to consent.
"I do not speak upon thoughts and imaginings," replied Tidkins: "I argue
on conviction. Leave the whole affair to me. I have my plan already
settled—and, when the time comes, we will talk more about it. For the
present," continued the Resurrection Man, drawing a bill-stamp from his
pocket, and handing it to his companion, "have the goodness to write the
name of _Ravensworth_ at the bottom of this blank. I shall not use it
until you are really Lord Ravensworth, when the signature will be your
proper one."
Vernon cast a hasty glance over the bill, and observed, "It is a
five-and-twenty shilling stamp."
"Yes—to cover three thousand pounds," returned the Resurrection Man.
"That will not be too much for making you a peer and a rich man.
Besides, I intend to advance you a matter of fifty pounds at once, for
your immediate necessities."
"And if I should happen to fail in obtaining the title and estates of
Ravensworth," said Vernon, "this document would enable you to immure me
in a debtor's prison."
"Ridiculous!" ejaculated Tidkins, impatiently. "In that case your name
would not be _Ravensworth_; and it is the name of _Ravensworth_ which I
require to this bill. As for throwing your person into a prison, what
good could that do me? A dead carcass is of more value than a living
one," he added, in a muttering tone.
Vernon did not overhear this remark—or, if he did, he comprehended not
the allusion; but he signed the bill without farther hesitation.
The Resurrection Man consigned it to his pocket-book, and then drew
forth a purse filled with gold, which he handed to his companion.
Vernon received it with a stiff and haughty inclination of the head:—his
necessities compelled him to accept the succour; but his naturally proud
feelings made him shrink from its source.
Having so far arranged the matters which they had met to discuss, the
aristocratic villain and the low miscreant separated.
Vernon returned to his lodging in Stamford Street; and the Resurrection
Man proceeded into the Westminster Road, where he took a cab, saying to
the driver, "Golden Lane, Saint Luke's."