CHAPTER CCXVIII.

THE VEILED VISITOR.

Mr. Tidkins sate down and smoked his pipe as calmly as if he were not at

all afraid to be left alone to the company of the thoughts which the

occupation was likely to stir up within him.

For when a man takes up his pipe, all the most important ideas in his

brain are certain to present themselves to his contemplation; and think

on them he must, willing or unwilling.

But Tidkins shrank not from any of those reflections: he was not one of

your villains who are either afraid in the dark, or who loathe

solitude;—what he did he perpetrated systematically, and reviewed

coolly.

He did not have recourse to the pipe on account of its soothing

qualities—for as long as he made money, he had no cares; and when he

indulged in a glass, it was by no means to drown remorse—because he had

no compunctions to stifle.

"A few months more in this country, and I shall be all right," he mused

to himself: "then off to America—plunge into the far-west—change my

name—buy land—and live comfortable for the rest of my days. This

business of Katherine Wilmot must produce me something handsome:—Gilbert

Vernon's affair is sure to do so, in one way or the other;—and if any

other business worth taking, and speedily done, comes in the meantime,

all the better. That rascal Tomlinson regularly bilked me: and yet the

fellow did it cleverly! Bolted with the old man—got clean away. For my

part, I wonder he didn't do it long ago. Well—perhaps I shall meet them

both some day in America; for I dare say they are gone there. All

run-a-ways go to America—because there's no fear of questions being

asked in the back-woods, and no need of letters of introduction when a

chap has got plenty of money in his pocket. With what I've got already,

and what I hope to get from the things now in hand, I shall stand a

chance of taking a few thousands with me. But before I do go I must pay

one or two people out:—there's that hated Markham—when he comes back;

then there's the Rattlesnake; and there's Crankey Jem, who, they say in

the papers, will have a free pardon before the trial of that young fool

Holford comes on. Well—I have got something to do, in one way or

another, before I leave England; but I'm not the man to neglect

business—either in the pursuit of money or to punish an enemy. Ha! that

was a knock at the door! who can come to me at this hour?"

The Resurrection Man looked at his watch:—the time had passed rapidly

away while he was smoking and thinking;—and it was now nearly an hour

past mid-day.

The knock—which was low and timid—was repeated.

"It _is_ a knock," said Tidkins; and he hastened down to the street

door.

He opened it and beheld a lady, enveloped in a large cloak, and wearing

a black veil which was so elaborately worked and so well arranged in

thick folds that it was impossible to catch even the faintest glimpse of

the countenance that it concealed.

Tidkins, however, perceived at the first glance that it was no mean

person who had sought his abode; for the delicate kid gloves were drawn

on the small hands with a scrupulous nicety; the foot which rested upon

the door-step was diminutive to a fault; and the appearance of the lady,

even disguised as she was, had something of superiority and command

which could not be mistaken.

"Does Mr. Tidkins reside here?" she said, in a tremulous and

half-affrighted tone.

"My name's Tidkins, ma'am—at your service," answered the Resurrection

Man, in as polite a manner as he could possibly assume.

It seemed as if the lady looked at him through her veil for a few

moments, ere she made a reply; and she even appeared to shudder as she

made that survey.

And no wonder;—for a countenance with a more sinister expression never

met her eyes; and she had moreover recognised the man's voice, which she

had heard before.

"Will you step in, ma'am?" said Tidkins; seeing that she hesitated. "I

am all alone;—and if you come to speak on any particular business—as of

course you do—there'll be no one to overhear us."

For another instant did Adeline—(there is no necessity to affect mystery

here)—hesitate ere she accepted this invitation:—then she thought of her

torturess Lydia—and she boldly crossed the threshold.

But when Tidkins closed and bolted the door behind her, and she found

herself ascending the steep staircase,—when she remembered that she was

now alone in that house with a man concerning whom her notions were of

the most appalling nature,—she felt her legs tremble beneath her.

Then again was she compelled to encourage herself by rapidly passing in

mental review the horrors of those tortures and the extent of those

indignities which she endured at the hands of Lydia Hutchinson!—and her

strength immediately revived.

She ascended the stairs, and entered the back room, to which the

Resurrection Man directed her in language as polite as he could command.

Then, having placed a chair for his mysterious visitor near the fire, he

took another at a respectful distance from her—for he knew that it would

be impolitic to alarm one who was evidently a well-bred lady, by

appearing to be too familiar.

"I dare say you are surprised to see a—a female—alone and

unprotected—visit your abode in this—in this unceremonious manner?" said

Adeline, after a long pause, but still fearfully embarrassed.

"I am not surprised at any thing, ma'am, in this world," replied

Tidkins: "I've seen too much ever to wonder. Besides, it is not the

first time that I have had dealings with gentlemen and ladies even of

the highest class. But I ask no impertinent questions, and make no

impertinent remarks. One thing, however, I should like to learn,

ma'am—if it would not be rude: and that is, how you came to address

yourself to me for whatever business you may have in hand?"

"That I cannot explain," returned Adeline: then, after a moment's

thought, she said, "Will it not be sufficient for you to know that I

obtained your address from one of those high-born persons to whom you

ere now alluded?"

"Quite sufficient, ma'am," answered Tidkins. "In what way can I aid

you?"

"I scarcely know how to explain myself," said Lady Ravensworth. "I

require a great service—a terrible one; but I am prepared to pay in

proportion."

"Do not hesitate with me, ma'am," observed Tidkins, his countenance

brightening up considerably at the prospect of reaping a good harvest by

means of his new customer. "Of course you require something which a

lawyer can't do, or else you'd go to one: therefore what you want is

illegal, ma'am; and my business, in a word, is to do every thing which

can be done in opposition to the law."

"But are you prepared to accomplish a deed which, if detected——Oh! I

cannot explain myself! No:—let me depart—I never should have come

hither!"

And Adeline was seized by a sudden paroxysm of remorse and alarm.

"Calm yourself, ma'am," said Tidkins. "If you wish to go, I cannot

prevent you; but if you really need my aid—_in any way_—no matter

what—speak at your leisure. I am not particular, ma'am, as to what I

undertake; and don't think I mean to offend you in what I'm going to

say—it's only to give you confidence towards me, and to afford you an

idea of what I now and then do for great folks and others, both male and

female. Suppose a lady has pawned or sold her diamonds to pay a gaming

debt, she wants a sham burglary got up in the house to cover the loss of

them: well, ma'am, I'm the man to break in and carry off a few trifles,

besides forcing open the door of the closet or bureau _where the casket

of jewels ought to be_. Or perhaps a tradesman who is about to become

bankrupt, wants the stock removed to a place of safety where he can have

it again after a time: there again, ma'am, I'm the individual to

accomplish the whole affair in the night, and give the house the

appearance of having been robbed. Or else a gentleman insures his house

and furniture, and wants the money: he goes off into the country—his

place is burnt to a cinder during his absence—and no one can possibly

suspect him of having had any thing to do with it. Besides, the whole

thing seems an accident—so cleverly do I manage it. And, to go a little

farther, ma'am—if a lady should happen to want to get rid of a severe

husband—an illegitimate child—an extortionate lover—or a successful

rival——"

"Or a bitter enemy?" added Lady Ravensworth, hastily—for she had been

enabled to collect her thoughts and compose herself while Tidkins was

thus expatiating upon his exploits.

"Yes, ma'am—or a bitter enemy," he repeated;—"it's all the same to me;

for,"—and he lowered his voice as he spoke—"I have either the means of

imprisoning them till they're driven raving mad and can be safely

removed to an asylum—or I make shorter work of it still!" he added,

significantly.

"Ah! you have the means of imprisoning persons—of keeping them for ever

out of the way—and yet not go to the last extreme?" said Adeline,

catching at this alternative.

"I have, ma'am," was the calm reply.

"But wherefore do you speak thus freely to me? why do you tell me so

much?" demanded Adeline, a vague suspicion entering her mind that this

fearful man knew her. "I am a complete stranger to you——"

"Yes, ma'am: and you may remain so, if it suits your purpose," answered

Tidkins, who divined the motive of her observations. "Tell me what you

wish done—pay me my price—and I shall ask you no questions. And if you

think that I am incautious in telling you so much concerning myself, let

me assure you that I am not afraid of your being a police-spy. The

police cannot get hold of such persons as yourself to entrap men like

me. I _know_ that you have business to propose to me: your words and

manner prove it. Now, ma'am, answer me as frankly as I have spoken to

you. You have a bitter enemy?"

"I have indeed," answered Adeline, reassured that she was not known to

the Resurrection Man: "and that enemy is a woman."

"Saving your presence, ma'am, a woman is a worse enemy than a man," said

Tidkins. "And of course you wish to get _your enemy_ out of the way by

some means?"

"I do," replied Adeline, in a low and hoarse tone—as if she only uttered

those monosyllables with a great exertion.

"There are two ways, ma'am," said the Resurrection Man, significantly:

"confinement in a dungeon, or——"

"I understand you," interrupted Lady Ravensworth, hastily. "Oh! I am at

a loss which course to adopt—which plan to decide upon! Heaven knows I

shrink from the extreme one——and yet——"

"The dead tell no tales," observed Tidkins, in a low and measured tone.

Adeline shuddered, and made no reply.

She fell back in the chair, and rapidly reviewed in her mind all the

perils and circumstances of her position.

She wished to rid herself of Lydia Hutchinson—for ever! She was moreover

anxious that this object should be effected in a manner so mysterious

and secret that she might not afterwards find herself at the mercy of

the agent whom she employed in her criminal purpose. She had, indeed,

already settled a plan to that effect, ere she called upon Tidkins.

During the whole of the preceding night had she pondered upon that

terrible scheme; and so well digested was it that Lydia might be made

away with—murdered, in fine—and yet Tidkins would never know whom he had

thus cut off, where the deed was accomplished, nor by whom he had been

employed. Thus, according to that project, all traces of the crime would

disappear, without the possibility of ever fixing it upon herself.

Now this idea was disturbed by the hint thrown out relative to

imprisonment in a dungeon. Were such a scheme carried into effect,

Tidkins must know who his prisoner was, and by whom he was employed. A

hundred chances might lead to an exposure, or enable Lydia to effect her

escape. Moreover, by adopting this project, Adeline saw that she should

be placing herself at the mercy of a ferocious man, who might become an

extortioner, and perpetually menace her by virtue of the secret that

would be in his keeping. She felt that she should live in constant alarm

lest Lydia might effect her release by bribery or accident. But chiefly

did she reason that she had suffered so much at the hand of one who was

acquainted with a dread secret concerning her, that she shrank from the

idea of so placing herself at the mercy of another.

All these arguments were reviewed by the desperate woman in far less

time than we have occupied in their narration.

But while she was thus wrapped up in her awful reverie, Tidkins, who

guessed to a certain extent what was passing in her mind, sate silently

and patiently awaiting her decision between the two alternatives

proposed—a dungeon or death!

Had he been able to penetrate with a glance through the folds of that

dark veil, he would have beholden a countenance livid white, and

distorted with the fell thoughts which occupied the mind of his

visitor:—but never once during this interview did he obtain a glimpse of

her features.

"Mr. Tidkins," at length said Adeline, in a low tone and with a visible

shudder, "my case is so desperate that nothing but a desperate remedy

can meet it. Were you acquainted with all the particulars, you would see

the affair in the same light. Either my enemy must die—or I must commit

suicide! Those are the alternatives."

"Then let your enemy die," returned the Resurrection Man.

"Yes—yes: it must be so!" exclaimed Adeline, stifling all feelings of

compunction: then taking from beneath her cloak a heavy bag, she threw

it upon the table, the chink of gold sounding most welcome to the ears

of the Resurrection Man. "That bag contains a hundred sovereigns," she

continued: "it is only an earnest of what I will give if you consent to

serve me precisely in the manner which I shall point out."

"That is a good beginning, at all events," said Tidkins, his eyes

sparkling with joy beneath their shaggy brows. "Go on, ma'am—I am ready

to obey you."

"My plan is this," continued Adeline, forcing herself to speak with

calmness:—"you will meet me to-night at the hour and place which I shall

presently mention; you will accompany me in a vehicle some few miles;

but you must consent to be blindfolded as long as it suits my purpose to

keep you so: when the deed is accomplished, you shall receive two

hundred sovereigns in addition to the sum now lying before you; and you

will return blindfolded with me to the place where I shall think fit to

leave you. Do you agree to this?"

"I cannot have the least objection, ma'am," answered Tidkins, overjoyed

at the prospect of obtaining such an important addition to the

ill-gotten gains already hoarded. "Where and when shall I meet you?"

"This evening, at nine o'clock—at the corner of the Edgeware Road and

Oxford Street," replied Adeline.

"I will be punctual to the minute," said the Resurrection Man.

Lady Ravensworth then took her departure.

As soon as it was dusk, Tidkins filled a basket with provisions, and

repaired to the subterranean dungeon where the old hag was confined.

"How do you get on?" he demanded, as he placed the basket upon the

table.

"Alack! I have not half completed my task," returned the old woman: "my

thoughts oppress me—my hand trembles—and my sight is bad."

"Then you will have to wait in this place a few hours longer than I

expected," said Tidkins. "But that basket contains the wherewith to

cheer you, and you need not expect to see me again until to-morrow

morning, or perhaps to-morrow night. So make yourself comfortable—and

get on with your work. I shall keep my word about the reward—do you keep

yours concerning the true history and the written proofs of Katherine's

parentage."

"I shall not deceive you—I shall not deceive you," answered the hag.

"Alack! I am too anxious to escape from this horrible den."

"You may leave it to-morrow night for certain," returned Tidkins: "at

least, it all depends on yourself."

He then closed the door, bolted it carefully, and quitted the

subterranean.

While he was engaged in making some little changes in his toilet ere he

sallied forth to his appointment with the veiled lady, he thus mused

upon a project which he had conceived:—

"I have more than half a mind to get the Buffer to dog that lady and me,

and find out where she takes me to. And yet if we go far in a vehicle,

the Buffer never could follow on foot; and if he took a cab, it would

perhaps be observed and excite her suspicions. Then she might abandon

the thing altogether; and I should lose my two hundred quids extra.

No:—I must trust to circumstances to obtain a clue to all I want to

know—who she is, and where she is going to take me."

Having thus reasoned against the project which he had for a moment

considered feasible, the Resurrection Man armed himself with a dagger

and pistols, enveloped himself in his cloak, slouched his hat over his

forbidding countenance, and then took his departure.

The Mysteries of London, v. 2/4 · 第 82 / 123 章