THE RESURRECTION MAN'S HOUSE IN GLOBE
TOWN.
Return we to the house of the Resurrection Man in Globe Town,—that house
where we have already seen such diabolical mischief concocted, and much
of which was actually perpetrated,—that house where the gloomy
subterraneans had echoed to the moans of Viola Chichester!
It was about seven o'clock in the evening, when the Resurrection Man
suddenly emerged from that very same cell in which Viola had once been
confined.
He held a lantern in his hand; and the feeble rays glanced upon a
countenance convulsed and distorted with deep, malignant rage.
On the threshold of the dungeon he paused for a moment; and turning
towards the interior of that living tomb, he growled in a savage tone,
"By all the powers of hell! I'll find means to cure you of this
obstinacy."
A hoarse and stifled moan was the only answer.
"Then try another night of it!" exclaimed the Resurrection Man.
And he closed the door violently.
The heavy bolt grated upon the ears of another victim to the remorseless
cruelty of this fiend-like miscreant!
Muttering maledictions to himself, the Resurrection Man slowly left the
subterranean, and extinguishing his lantern, secured the doors of the
lower part of his dwelling.
As he was about to ascend the steep staircase leading to the upper
floor, a person in the street called after him in a low and tremulous
tone, "Mr. Tidkins! Mr. Tidkins! is that you?"
"Rather so," replied the Resurrection Man, who had immediately
recognised the voice; "walk up, Mr. Tomlinson."
"I—I—if you have no objection," stammered the stock-broker, who
evidently had some cause of alarm, "I would much prefer—that is, I
should like to speak to you down here; because my time is
precious—and——"
"And you are afraid to trust yourself with me," added the Resurrection
Man, gruffly. "Why, what an infernal fool you must be! I don't suppose
that you've come with your pockets full of gold: and, if you haven't,
you certainly ain't worth robbing and murdering. So, walk up, I say—and
no more of this gammon. Shut the door, and bolt it after you."
The stock-broker did not like to offer any farther objection, so deep
was his dread of irritating a man of whom he entertained a vague and
horrible apprehension.
He accordingly closed the door, and followed Tidkins up the precipitate
steps to the back room on the first floor: for the Resurrection Man had
converted this one into his parlour, to avoid the necessity of having a
light in the front chamber, the windows of which looked upon the
street—the miscreant being compelled to adopt as many precautions as
possible to prevent his numerous enemies from discovering a trace of his
whereabouts.
"Sit down, and don't be afraid, Mr. Tomlinson," said Tidkins. "There,
sir—draw near the fire; and here's brandy, rum, or gin, if you like to
take any thing."
"Nothing, I thank you," faltered the stock-broker, casting a hurried
glance of alarm around him as he sank upon a chair. "You wrote to desire
me to call this evening—at seven o'clock—or I might repent——"
"Yes—and so you would repent the consequences," added the Resurrection
Man. "But, as you have come, it is all right. I dare say you thought I
had forgotten you: you were deceived, you see; for I never lose sight of
old friends. When I want to use them, I am sure to find them out again."
"And what can I do for you, Mr. Tidkins?" asked the stock-broker, in a
tremulous tone; for he felt a desperate alarm lest the Resurrection Man
should have discovered _the one secret_ which he had taken so much pains
to conceal—the secret of the abode of old Michael Martin.
"I have but two wants in the world at any time," answered the
Resurrection Man, lighting his pipe: "money most often—vengeance now and
then. But it is money that I want of you."
"Money—money!" murmured Tomlinson: "do you think I am made of money? I
have had hard struggles—losses—expenses——"
"I dare say you have," observed the Resurrection Man, drily. "I do not
mean to be hard upon you; but something I must have. You see, I have got
a little amount put by—how obtained is neither here nor there; and I
want to scrape together as much as I can, so that in a few months, when
I have settled the different matters I have on hand, I may leave England
for America, or some such place; and then you will never hear of me any
more."
"That will be a great blessing," thought Tomlinson; but he did not say
so.
"And under all circumstances, you must help me to make up the sum I
want," added the Resurrection Man.
"You are too hard upon me, Mr. Tidkins," said Tomlinson. "If I had
employed you on any business, it would be different: but——"
"But if you have a secret that I have found out, and that's worth
keeping?" exclaimed Tidkins, significantly.
"Oh! then it is as I feared!" murmured Tomlinson, pressing his feverish
hand to his forehead, through which a sudden pain seemed to shoot,
producing a sensation as of tightness on the brain. "Surely this man
must be Satan himself, who comes at intervals to goad the wicked to
desperation for their sins!"
"What's that you say about Satan?" asked Tidkins.
"Nothing—nothing," replied the stock-broker, hastily: "I was only
thinking to myself that Satan took a delight in persecuting me."
"I know nothing about that," observed the Resurrection Man. "All I care
for is the cash that you will have the goodness to bring me down
to-morrow evening at this same hour."
A sudden idea struck Tomlinson. Was the Resurrection Man really
acquainted with Martin's present place of abode? or was he endeavouring
to extort money merely upon the strength of his knowledge, some time
previously obtained (as our readers will remember), that the old clerk,
though generally believed to have absconded, had actually remained
concealed in London?
"But wherefore should you press me in this way?" said the stock-broker.
"Did I not satisfy your demands on a former occasion?"
"And have I not kept my pledge?" cried Tidkins. "Has a word ever escaped
my lips to do you an injury? Why, there is still a reward of three
thousand pounds to be got——"
"No—no," interrupted Tomlinson; "you are wrong. My affairs are all wound
up in respect to the bank—and a dividend has been paid."
"A precious small one, I'll be bound," observed Tidkins.
"However,—reward or no reward,—it wouldn't place you in a very
comfortable situation if I was to take a policeman with me, and just
call at a particular house in Thomas Street, where an old gentleman
named Nelson——"
"Enough!" cried Tomlinson: "I see you know all. My God! when shall I be
released from this peril? when shall I know a moment's comfort?"
"When you've brought me down a couple of hundred pounds to-morrow
night," answered the Resurrection Man, knocking out the ashes from his
pipe. "And, then—if you like to make it worth my while—I tell you what
I'll do for you."
"What?" asked the stock-broker, gasping for breath.
"I'll entice the old fellow down here, and either lock him up in one of
my cells, or else settle his hash in such a way that he shall only be
fit to sell to the surgeons," returned the Resurrection Man, fixing his
snake-like eyes on the stock-broker's countenance, as if to ascertain
the precise impression which this proposal made.
"Monster!" ejaculated Tomlinson, shrinking from the bare idea of such an
atrocity—for he was more or less attached to Michael Martin, in
consequence of the immense sacrifice which the old man had made on his
account: "no—never will I imbrue my hands with blood, nor suborn another
to play the assassin's part for me! To-morrow evening you shall receive
the amount you demand; and heaven grant that all connexion between us
may cease."
"Be it so," observed the Resurrection Man, coolly, as he brewed himself
a glass of grog.
"You have nothing more to say to me?" asked Tomlinson, rising to depart.
The reply was a negative; and the stock-broker hurried away
from a dwelling where crime seemed to proclaim its presence
trumpet-tongued,—where every look that eyes shot forth, and every word
that lips uttered, and every thought that brains conceived—all, all
appeared to feel the noxious atmosphere of blackest turpitude.
In a house where a person has lately died, every thing seems to exhale a
sickly odour as of a corpse; and if you touch the wall with your finger,
you feel a clammy and fetid moisture which makes your blood run cold
within you. So was it with the dwelling of the Resurrection Man: the
taint of crime impregnated the very atmosphere; and Tomlinson shook
himself when he gained the open air, as if he could thus throw off some
pestilential influence which had seized hold of him.
Tomlinson had not left the house many minutes, when a low, but peculiar
knock at the door brought the Resurrection Man down to answer the
summons.
"Who is it?" he demanded, ere he opened.
"Me," growled a voice which Tidkins immediately recognised to be that of
the Lully Prig.
This individual was forthwith admitted; and when the two villains were
seated by the fire in the back room, the Resurrection Man asked "What
news?"
"Just as you wished," was the reply. "I called at the chandlery shop in
Pitfield Street, Hoxton, and axed for a nounce of bakker. The woman
served me; and I soon see that she was alone. Then says I, '_If so be no
one's within 'earing, I want a word with you_.'—She looked frightened,
but said nothing wotsomever.—'_All I have to tell you is just this_,'
says I: '_Tony Tidkins knows where you be and all about you. But he
says, says he, that if you take no notice of him in case you sees him,
and says nothing to nobody in case you 'ears of him, he'll leave you
alone._'—Lor! how she did turn pale and tremble when I mentioned your
name; and she seemed so glad when I told her that you wouldn't do her no
harm, if so be she didn't try to do you none.—'_If he won't come near
me, I'll never even breathe his name_,' she says.—'_And you'll never
utter a word about the crib in Globe Town_,' says I.—'_Never, never_,'
says she.—'_Well, then_,' says I, '_all will go on well; and you can
sleep as sound in your bed as if there wasn't such a man as Tony Tidkins
in the world. But if so be you peaches, or says a word_,' says I, '_that
may get Tony into trouble, he's got plenty of friends as will awenge
him, and the fust is me_.'—So she swore eyes and limbs, she'd keep all
close; and in that way I left her."
"So far, so good," observed the Resurrection Man. "She's frightened, and
will keep a close tongue. That's all I want. When I have finished the
different things I have in hand, and don't care about staying in London
any longer, I will punish her for what she did to me. But my revenge
will keep for the present. Now, what about Crankey Jem?"
"He still lives in the court in Drury Lane, and stays at home all day,"
answered the Lully Prig. "But at night he goes out for some hours, and I
can't find out where. For three evenin's follering I watched him; and
every time I missed him at last somehow or another."
"Which way did he go?" demanded the Resurrection Man.
"Different ways—but always up one street and down another—now here, then
there, as if he hadn't no partickler motive, but merely went out a
walkin' for the fun of it."
"I tell you what it is, Lully," said the Resurrection Man, gloomily,
"you're not so wide awake as I am. That fellow has some object in
wandering about zigzag and crosswise in that manner. He has got a scent
of me; and he's following it up. But at the same time he's afraid that I
may have a scent of him; and so he dodges about. It's as clear as
day-light—'cause it's just what I should do."
"And you're a downy cove enough, Tony," observed the Lully Prig;
"although I do think arter all you've let that damned parley-woo French
feller do us about them Bank notes."
"It's very strange the Buffer doesn't return," said the Resurrection
Man. "I'd take my davy that he wouldn't chouse us out of our reglars.
But time will show. Now look here, Lully,—as you've made that same
remark a dozen times since the thing took place,—and just see how the
matter stood. We got four thousand pounds clear——"
"Yes—a thousand a-piece," said the Lully Prig, assentingly: "and a
precious jolly catch it was."
"Well," continued the Resurrection Man, "the Bank notes were of no more
use to us than so much waste paper, because Greenwood was sure to stop
them the moment he got back to London: at least I should think so. Now
when that French fellow Lafleur offered to let you, me, the Buffer, and
Long Bob share the gold, and he would go to France to smash the notes at
the money-changer's that he told us about in Paris, and then take his
thousand beyond his fifth share of the produce of the notes, it was the
best thing we could do to accept his proposal—particularly as he said
that any one of us might go with him."
"But if he sticks to the whole sixteen thousand pounds, what a deuced
good pull he has over us," observed the Lully Prig.
"So he has," said the Resurrection Man; "and again I tell you that if he
hadn't offered to go to France and change the notes, we must have
destroyed them in the very chalk-pit where we divided the swag. They
were no use to us—but a great danger. It was better to trust to the
chance of Lafleur doing the thing that's right; and if he don't, the
Buffer will drop down on him, in spite of all the guilloteens[32] and
Johnny-darmies[33] in France."
"Well, we won't quarrel about it, Tony," said the Lully Prig. "You and
the Buffer let me in for a good thing; and I ought not to grumble. You
see, I've follered your advice, and kept the blunt in a safe place,
without wasting it as Long Bob is doing. He's never been sober since the
thing took place."
"Where is he now?" asked the Resurrection Man.
"Oh! he's knocking about at all the flash cribs, spending his tin as
fast as he can," answered the Lully Prig.
"Don't let him know of this place of mine for the world," said Tidkins.
"A drunken chap like that isn't to be trusted in any shape. I only hope
he won't wag his tongue too free about the business that put all the
money into his pocket."
"Not he!" cried the Lully Prig: "he's as close as the door of Newgate
about them kind of things, even when he's as drunk as a pig. But I don't
want to have nothing more to do with him; I'll stick to you and the
Buffer; and when you've settled all the things you say you have in hand,
we'll be off to Americky."
"So we will, Lully. But this fellow Crankey Jem annoys me. You must go
on watching him. Or p'rhaps it would be better to get the Bully Grand to
set some of his Forty Thieves after him?" added the Resurrection Man.
"No—no," cried the Lully Prig, whose pride was somewhat hurt at this
suggestion, which seemed to cast a doubt upon his own skill and ability
in performing the service required: "leave him in my hands, and I'll
find out what dodge he's upon sooner or later."
Scarcely were these words uttered, when a knock at the front door fell
on the ears of the two villains.
The Resurrection Man descended; and, to the usual inquiry ere the door
was opened, the well-known voice of the Buffer answered, "It is me."
"Well—what luck?" demanded the Resurrection Man, hastily—his avarice
prompting the question even before his accomplice in iniquity had
scarcely time to utter a reply to the first query.
"Sold—regularly sold—done brown!" returned the Buffer, closing and
bolting the door behind him.
"Damnation!" cried the Resurrection Man, who, now that the faint hope of
obtaining a further share of the plunder of Greenwood's tin-case was
annihilated, manifested a fiercer rage than would have been expected
after his cool reasoning with the Lully Prig upon the special point.
"You may well swear, Tony," said the Buffer, sulkily, as he ascended the
stairs; "for we never was so completely done in all our lives. That
snivelling Mounseer was one too many for us."
"Ah! I see how it is," observed the Lully Prig, when the two men entered
the room where he had remained; "and I can't say it's more than I
expected. But how did he do it?"
"Why, he gave me the slip at last," answered the Buffer, pouring himself
out half a tumbler of raw spirit, which he drank without winking, just
as if it were so much water. "You see, he kept me humbugging about in
Paris week after week, always saying that it wasn't prudent to begin
smashing the notes yet awhile; and I stuck to him like a leech. I shan't
make a long story on it now—I'm too vexed: all I'll tell you at present
is that four days ago he gave me the slip; and so I twigged that it was
all gammon. He'd done us brown—that was wery clear;—and so I come back."
We shall leave the three villains to discuss this disappointment,
together with divers other matters interesting to themselves, and
continue the thread of our narrative in another quarter.
It is, however, as well to observe that all these comings and goings at
the house of the Resurrection Man were watched by an individual, who for
several nights had been lurking about that neighbourhood for the
purpose, but who had exercised so much caution that he was never
perceived by any one of the gang.
This person was Crankey Jem.
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Footnote 32:
Guillotines.
Footnote 33:
Gendarmes.