THE RESURRECTION MAN'S RETURN HOME.
As the Resurrection Man hurried through the fields, amidst the darkness
of the night, he vented in horrible imprecations the rage he experienced
at the failure of a scheme to which he had devoted so much time and
trouble.
He knew that the blank acceptance which he had extorted from Vernon, and
which he had looked upon as the safe guarantee of the speedy acquisition
of three thousand pounds, was now but a valueless slip of paper; and he
cursed himself for having been foolish enough to advance some two or
three hundred guineas of his own money to furnish his late employer with
the supplies necessary for his purposes.
But as a set-off against these disappointments he had one consolation—a
consolation which to a less avaricious mind would have been more than
commensurate with the losses that Tidkins deplored. He was possessed of
Lady Ravensworth's valuable casket of jewels, which he had removed, a
few days after he had obtained it in the manner already described, to
his house in Globe Town.
And it was to this den that he was now repairing. He was as yet
unacquainted with the fate of Gilbert Vernon; but, supposing it probable
that justice might already have that individual in his grasp, he at once
determined to provide for his own safety. Abandoning, therefore, all his
long-nourished schemes of vengeance against the Prince of Montoni, the
Rattlesnake, and Crankey Jem, Tidkins was now intent only on securing
his treasure, and taking his departure for America with the least
possible delay.
It was about two o'clock in the morning when the Resurrection Man,
sinking with the fatigues of his long and circuitous journey round all
the northern outskirts of London, arrived at his own house.
Wearied as he was, he wasted no time in snatching a temporary repose: a
glass of spirits recruited his strength and invigorated his energies;
and, with his bunch of keys in his hand, he repaired from his own
chamber to the rooms on the ground-floor.
It will be remembered that on a former occasion,—on his return home, in
the middle of the month of March, after his escape from the Middlesex
House of Correction,—the Resurrection Man had perceived certain
indications which led him to imagine that the step of an intruder had
visited the ground-floor and the subterranean part of his house. His
suspicions had fallen upon Banks; but an interview with this individual
convinced him that those suspicions were unfounded; for although he did
not question him point-blank upon the subject, yet his penetration was
such, that he could judge of the real truth by the undertaker's manner.
Since that period Tidkins had visited his house in Globe Town on several
occasions—indeed, as often as he could possibly get away from
Ravensworth Hall for the greater portion of a day; and, perceiving no
farther indications of the intrusion of a stranger, he became confirmed
in the belief which had succeeded his first suspicions, and which was
that he had been influenced by groundless alarms.
But now, the moment he put the key into the lock of the door in the
alley, he uttered a terrible imprecation—for the key would not turn, and
there was evidently something in the lock!
Hastily picking the lock with one of those wire-instruments which are
used for the purpose by burglars, he extracted from it a piece of a key
which had broken in the wards.
Fearful was now the rage of the Resurrection Man; and when he had
succeeded in opening the door, he precipitated himself madly into that
department of his abode.
But what pen can describe his savage fury, when, upon lighting a
lantern, he saw the trap raised, and the brick removed from the place in
the chimney where it covered the secret means of raising the
hearth-stone?
Plunging desperately down into the subterranean, at the risk of breaking
his neck, Tidkins felt like one on whose eyes a hideous spectre suddenly
bursts, when he beheld the door of a cell—the very cell in which his
treasure was concealed—standing wide open!
Staggering now, as a drunken man—and no longer rushing wildly along,—but
dragging himself painfully,—Tidkins reached that cell.
His worst fears were confirmed: the stone in the centre was removed from
its place;—and his treasure was gone!
Yes:—money-bags and jewel-casket—the produce of heaven only knows how
much atrocity and blackest crime—had disappeared.
This was the second time that his hoarded wealth was snatched from him.
Then did that man—so energetic in the ways of turpitude, so strong in
the stormy paths of guilt,—then did he sink down, with a hollow groan,
upon the cold floor of the cell.
For a few minutes he lay like one deprived of sense and feeling, the
only indications of life being the violent clenching of his fists, and
the demoniac workings of his cadaverous countenance.
Cadaverous!—never did the face of a wretched being in the agonies of
strangulation by hanging, present so appalling—so hideous an appearance!
But in a short time the Resurrection Man started up with a savage howl
and a terrible imprecation: his energies—prostrated for a
period—revived; and his first idea, when arousing from that torpor, was
vengeance—a fearful vengeance upon the plunderer.
But who was that plunderer? whose hand had suddenly beggared him?
His suspicions instantly fixed themselves upon two persons—the only two
of his accomplices who were acquainted with the mysteries of the
subterranean.
These were Banks and the Buffer.
He was about to turn from the cell, and repair forthwith—even at that
hour—to the dwelling of the undertaker, when his eyes suddenly fell upon
some letters scrawled in chalk upon the pavement, and which the position
of the lantern had hitherto prevented him from observing.
He stooped down, and read the words—"JAMES CUFFIN."
The mystery was solved: his mortal enemy, Crankey Jem, had robbed him of
his treasure!
Dark—terribly ominous and foreboding—was now the cloud which overspread
the countenance of the Resurrection Man.
"Had I ten times the wealth I have lost," he muttered to himself, with a
hyena-like growl, "I would not quit this country till I had wreaked my
vengeance upon that man! But this is now no place for me: he has tracked
me here—he may set the traps upon me. Let us see if the Bully Grand
cannot discover his lurking hole."
With these words,—and now displaying that outward calmness which often
covers the most intensely concentrated rage,—the Resurrection Man
quitted the subterranean, carefully securing the doors behind him.
He purposely broke a key in the lock of the door leading into the dark
alley, so as to prevent the intrusion of any of the neighbours, should
their curiosity tempt them to visit the place; for he made up his mind
not to return thither again so long as Jem Cuffin was alive and able to
betray him.
Having provided himself with a few necessaries, he closed the up-stairs
rooms, and then took his departure.
He bent his steps towards the house of the undertaker in Globe Lane;
and, knocking him up, obtained admittance and a bed.
When he awoke from a sound sleep, into which sheer fatigue plunged him
in spite of the unpleasant nature of his thoughts, it was
broad-day-light.
He immediately rose and despatched one of Banks's boys for the morning
newspaper; and from its columns he learnt the fate of the Honourable
Gilbert Vernon.
"Better so than that he should have remained alive perhaps to repent, as
these sentimental humbugs in high life usually do, and then blab against
me," murmured Tidkins to himself. "The whole business at the Hall is
evidently wrapped in considerable mystery; and there I hope it will
remain. But now let me devote myself heart and soul to my search after
that scoundrel Crankey Jem."