right; go, go!'
Half pushing, half persuading him, she finally induced him to leave
the house.
'Friend Ned seems in a hurry,' said a voice in his ear, when he
had gone but a hundred yards. 'Has sweet little Kate been unkind?
Has she told you that she loved Michael Rust? Ha! ha! Or has old
dad been crabbed? Ha! ha! A queer old boy that dad of hers, Ned; a
queer old fellow; full of freaks! Do you know he hinted to me that
he thought you had an eye on Kate, and wanted to run off with her?
Wasn't that a good one, Ned? Ha! ha! It makes me laugh to think of
it. He didn't know that Michael Rust was the fellow; that _he_ was
the one to guard against.'
'I believe you,' said Ned, bitterly; 'I believe that Michael Rust is
the one to guard against; and Jacob Rhoneland will find it out some
day.'
'To be sure he will, to be sure he will!' said Rust. 'Yet the old
fellow was afraid of you; _you_ Ned, _you_! He even hinted that
your purposes were not _honest_. Some kind friend had been at work
and filled his head with queer tales about you. And all the time he
did'nt dream of me; and didn't know that it was _me_ that Kate was
dying for. He'll find me his son-in-law yet, some day. I wish you
would keep away from his house, Ned. To tell the truth, I'm jealous
of you. For in confidence, Ned, I _do_ believe that Kate is a little
of a coquette at heart; and I have often said to myself: 'Although
I see nothing particularly kind in her manner to Somers, who knows
what it may be when they're alone? I'm sure there's nothing in her
actions, when others are present, to betray how kind and coaxing
she is to me when we are alone. Ah! Ned; she is all tenderness in
our moments of privacy. The last time I saw her she said that she
respected you, but swore that she did not care the snap of a finger
for you. God bless her for that! how happy it made me! how charming
she looked! Ah! she's an angel! upon my soul I must go back and kiss
her!'
Somers, chafing with fury at being thus beset, had walked on with a
rapid step, while Rust kept pace with him, hissing his words in his
ear; but as he uttered the last sentence, Rust turned away. As he
did so, Somers caught him by the collar, and drawing him close to
him, said:
'Michael Rust, I believe that every word you have just uttered is
false, and a vile slander against as noble a girl as ever lived.
I will not punish you as you deserve, because I promised Kate
Rhoneland that I would not; but before you go let me tell you this:
A greater liar and villain than yourself, never walked. Things are
oozing out about you, which will make this city ring with your
infamy. Tongues which have been tied by gold have found fear more
powerful, and have spoken; and there are those tracking out Michael
Rust's course, for the last few years, who will not let him rest
till they have run him down. You're fond of figures of speech;
there's one. Now go and kiss Kate Rhoneland, with what satisfaction
you may!'
He flung him from him; and, without looking at him, turned off in a
by street.
CHAPTER TENTH.
THE few words uttered by Somers, as he flung his tormentor from
him, threw Michael Rust into a fit of profound abstraction.
Pondering over his schemes, and wondering which particular one
was about to fail; and yet so confident in his own sagacity
and clear-sightedness, that he felt disposed to think failure
impossible; he took his way to his own house. There, assuming the
same costume which he usually wore when in his office, and which,
in age, certainly added ten years to his appearance, he locked the
door of his room, put the key in his pocket, and sallied into the
street.
'If what he said be true,' muttered he, 'there must be a traitor.
Him I can put my finger on; and first of all, _him_ will I punish;
and now, for a trial of that new animal Kornicker. Bah!'
Had Mr. Kornicker overheard this allusion to himself, it is scarcely
probable that his gratification would have been extreme; for
admitting himself and all the rest of the human race, zoologically
speaking, to be animals; even then, there was much in the tone of
Michael Rust to indicate that Mr. Kornicker belonged to a genus
distinct from and inferior to the human species in general; and
this was a position against which there is little doubt that Mr.
Kornicker would have contended manfully. Without pausing to reflect
upon the justice or injustice of his observation, and in truth
forgetting that he had made it, Rust took the shortest route to his
office, whither, to explain what will follow, it may not be amiss to
precede him.
From the day on which he had taken Kornicker into his service, he
had not been at his office, nor had he met his new clerk, or seen
him, or heard from him. In truth, many other matters pressing upon
him, prevented his calling there; and although he did not forget
that Kornicker was almost a stranger to him, for he forgot nothing,
yet knowing that he could do no harm where he was, and that there
was little to embezzle or steal, except the door-key, he in a
great measure dismissed him from his thoughts, until he required
his services. Although this matter dwelt thus lightly on the mind
of Rust, it was the source of much profound thought and intense
abstraction on the part of Kornicker. He had endeavored to learn
something respecting Rust; and even formed an intimacy with 'the
desperadoes,' for that purpose; and what little he learned there
certainly did not make him more at ease; for even the most desperate
of _them_ shook his head, and gave him a friendly caution 'to look
sharp;' at the same time adding, though in less refined language,
that Rust was 'a small colored man, but hard to masticate.' It was
observed, however, that by degrees Mr. Kornicker's abstraction grew
less and less, and his spirits rose. At times, unnatural sounds,
such as loud laughter, and even songs, were heard to emanate from
Rust's hitherto silent room; and in the dusk of the evening, dim
figures were seen skulking to and from it; and in the day time,
shabby-genteel men loitered carelessly through the entry, and after
listening at the key-hole, gave a shrill whistle, which being
answered from within, they dove into the room, and disappeared. At
times, too, the clinking of knives and forks against crockery was
heard from within; and on such occasions, the phantom of the small
boy with a white cap on his head was seen to flit up and down the
stairs, with a dish in his hand, or a bottle under his arm, always
vanishing at Rust's office, or disappearing in the bowels of the
refectory below.
But notwithstanding all these symptoms of returning vivacity, Mr.
Kornicker's mind was far from tranquil on the subject of the mystery
of his present situation.
'Fallen into the toils of a little old man,' said he to himself,
as he sat, on the morning on which we open this chapter, in front
of the fire, with his legs stretched at full length in front of
him; the toe of one foot, supporting the heel of the other; of a
little old man, with a red handkerchief tied round his head, a
broad brimmed hat on the top of that, and a camblet cloak over his
shoulders. 'It's too deep for me. I can't fathom it. The victim of
a hideous compact, whereby I am decoyed into his service, to sit in
a room eight feet by twelve, on a chair without a cushion, a yellow
wooden chair, with four legs, and a back made of the most uneasy
kind of timber, probably lignum-vitæ, and yet with no cushion; to
wait for people who never come, eat without drinking, and submit
to divers other small inconveniences; such as bringing up coal in
a pail without a handle; kindling my own fire with damp wood, and
snuffing sixpenny dips with a pair of tongs, one of whose feet is
absent. There's something very mysterious about it--very. All I hope
is, that this Mr. Rust is not the 'Old Boy.' That's all. I don't
wish to speak disrespectfully of him: but I _do_ sincerely hope,
for his own sake, that he isn't the 'Old Boy.' It would be bad for
him, if he was. As for myself,' said he, drawing out his snuff-box,
and snuffing with great absence of mind, 'it makes no difference;
I'm used to it. I've been brought up in trying circumstances. I
slept in a grocery sand-bin on the north corner of a street for
a week. Not such a bad place either, in warm weather; but I was
ousted by a tipsy gentleman, whom I found there one night. The tipsy
gentleman was sick, too; and when tipsy gentlemen get sick, most
people know what follows. The place was untenantable afterward. But
_that_ was nothing to _this_; positively nothing. I knew what I was
about then; _now_ I don't. I never met but one case in point with
mine. It was that of the fellow who fell into the clutches of forty
unknown women, and remained with them, feasted with them, and all
that--they paying the shot, as in my case--until one morning they
all came weeping, and wailing, and gnashing their teeth, to tell
him that they were off by the first boat; and that he must stay
there until they came back, and might do whatever he liked, and go
wherever he chose, except into the stable. There 's no stable here,
but I'm restricted in liquors; _that_ carries out the simile. The
house-keeper handed him the keys, and he went jingling about, for
forty days, with the keys hanging at his button-hole; his hands in
his breeches pockets, whistling and yawning; locking and unlocking
doors, and smelling flowers; eating apples, and pea-nuts, I suppose,
although they were not specially mentioned, and poking his nose into
all the odd corners. There the simile fits again; only it's soon got
through with here, seeing that there 's only under the table and
up the chimney to look, and I've done both. No matter; that chap
wound up by having an eye knocked out; and I hope the joke won't be
carried so far with me.'
Mr. Kornicker cut short his reflections and remarks; and sitting
upright, pulled up his vest, and felt in the neighborhood of his
watch-pocket. Suddenly recollecting, however, that he had left the
article which belonged there in the safe-keeping of a friend, who,
with a kindness worthy of all praise, not only took charge of it
for him, but actually paid for the privilege of doing so; he pulled
down his vest and said, 'he supposed that it was all right, and
that _they_ would be here presently.' If his last remark applied to
guests whom he expected, he was apparently correct in his surmise;
for he had scarcely uttered it, when there was a single sharp knock
at the door.
'Who's there?' demanded he, without starting.
'Open the door!' replied a voice from without.
'It isn't locked,' said Kornicker; and it might have been observed
that there was a remarkable abatement of firmness in the tone of his
reply.
In pursuance of this hint, the door opened, and in walked Michael
Rust!
Mr. Kornicker, in the course of his checkered existence, had
frequently found himself in positions in which he was taken
dreadfully aback; but it is doubtful whether he had ever detected
himself in a situation which threw him into a state of such utter
and helpless consternation as his present one; for, relying on
the continued absence of his employer, he had that day invited
four particular friends 'to drop into the office,' and, as he had
carelessly observed, 'to take potluck with him--a trifle or so;
anything that should turn up.' This was the very hour; and here was
Rust.
He made an unsuccessful effort to welcome his visiter. He got up,
muttered something about 'unexpected pleasure,' looked vacantly
round the room; rubbed his hands one over the other; made an attempt
to smile, which terminated in a convulsive twitching of his lips;
and finally sat down, with his intellect completely bewildered, and
without having succeeded in any thing, except exciting the surprise
and suspicion of Rust.
'There'll be hell to pay!' said he, communing with his own thoughts,
'there positively _will_; I know it; I see it, I feel it; I'm done
up; no hope for me! _There_ comes one of them,' thought he, as a
step deliberately ascended the stair; but it passed to the flight
above. There was some relief in that; but it was only a respite.
_Come_ they must! He wrung his hands, snuffed spasmodically,
returned the box to his pocket, and took it out again instantly.
'What shall I do? What _shall_ I do? What the DEVIL shall I do?'
exclaimed he, mentally.
Rust had spoken to him three times, but he had not heard a word.
'This is all very strange,' muttered Rust, looking about the room
as if to seek some explanation. The first thing which attracted his
attention was the fact that the two chairs which he had left in the
office had by some odd process of multiplication increased to six.
'There are six chairs here,' said he, addressing his clerk, in a
stern tone; 'where did they come from? Who are they for?'
Mr. Kornicker looked round, and smiled helplessly. 'Six? Oh, ay;
one, two, three, four, five--six. So there _are_ six,' said he.
'Well?'
'Well; oh, _well_? Oh, yes, quite well, I thank you; very well,'
said Mr. Kornicker, whose ideas were rapidly becoming of a very
composite order, and who caught only the monosyllable, without
exactly taking in its meaning.
'I'm afraid that Mr. Kornicker is lonely in the absence of his
friend Michael Rust,' said Rust, with his usual sneer; 'that he
finds this dull, dingy room too dreary for him; and has invited six
chairs to keep him company, and cheer up his spirits.'
Kornicker made no reply; he could not, for he was stupefied by
hearing another step ascending the stairs. This time it paused at
the door, as if the visiter were adjusting his collar, and pulling
down his wristbands; after which, a thinnish gentleman, dressed in
a green coat, with wide skirts; white at the elbows, and polished
at the collar, and pantaloons tightly strapped down, gray and
glistening at the knees, and not a little torn at the pockets,
sauntered carelessly in.
'Servant, Sir; servant, Sir;' said he, nodding to Rust, at the same
time, advancing with a familiar air, and swinging in his hand a
particularly dingy handkerchief. 'This, I suppose, is one of us.
He's an old chip; but he may be come of a prime block.' The latter
part of this remark was addressed to Kornicker; and terminated with
a request, that he would 'do the genteel, and present him to his
friend.' Kornicker, however, sat stock-still, looking in the grate,
and evincing no signs of life, except by breathing rather hard.
'Ha! ha! Ned's gone again--brown study!' said the gentleman, winking
at Rust, touching his own forehead, and at the same time extending
his hand. 'It's his way. I suppose you're one of our social little
dinner-party to-day?'
'Yes, oh, yes!' said Rust, quietly; for these words, and the six
chairs, afforded an immediate solution of his difficulties. 'I
dropped in; and being intimate with Ned, thought I'd stop.'
'So I supposed,' said the other. 'As Ned _won't_, I _will_. My
name's Sludge, Mr. Thomas Sludge,' said he, extending his hand to
Rust. 'Happy to make your acquaintance. Your name is--eh? eh?'
'Quite a common one; Smith; Mr. Smith,' replied Rust.
'Ha! ha! you're joking; but no--you _don't_ belong to that numerous
family, though, do you? Eh? well; I thought from the cut of your
eye, that you were an old quiz, and supposed, of course, you were
joking.'
At the announcement of the name, Kornicker looked round with a vague
hope that _he_ might have been mistaken; and that it was not Michael
Rust who had thus interrupted his plans; but _there_ he stood. 'He's
a dreadful reality!' thought he, shaking his head. 'He's no Smith.
He's Michael Rust. God knows what he's going to do, I don't. If they
come, I pity them. That's all I can do for them; but it's their
affair; they must trust to their own resources, and the care of an
overruling Providence. I suppose they'll survive it. If they don't,
Rust will have to bury them.'
He was too much overwhelmed by what had already occurred, and
by what was to come, to attempt to extricate himself from his
difficulties. They had fallen upon him with a weight which was
insupportable; and now, a ton or two more would make but little
difference. They might mash him flat if they chose; he should not
resist them.
In the mean time, Rust and Sludge became exceedingly sociable. They
conversed on all topics, cracked their jokes, and were exceedingly
merry on the subject of Kornicker and his employee, and of the
tricks which were played upon that respectable personage.
'Ha! ha!' said Mr. Sludge, 'wouldn't he kick up a rumpus if he did
but know what was going on here? The very idea of Rust arriving at
this stage of knowledge, seemed so absurd that they laughed until
the room rang.
It was not long before their number was increased by the addition
of a short, square-built gentleman, with round cheeks and green
spectacles, who was introduced by Mr. Sludge as 'Mr. Steekup, one of
us.' He was followed by a thin fellow in elderly attire, and with
a very red nose. This latter person was supported by a friend with
very large whiskers, and a shaggy great-coat with huge pockets. The
first of these two was presented as Mr. Gunter, and the last as
Mr. Buzby. Each of these gentlemen, as they respectively entered,
went up to Kornicker, and slapped him on the shoulder, at the same
time saluting him with the appellation of 'my tulip,' or 'my old
buck,' or 'my sodger,' or some other epithet of an equally friendly
character; to all of which they received not a word in reply. But
though Kornicker's bodily functions were suspended, his thoughts
were wonderfully busy.
He felt that he was done for; completely, irremediably done for.
He had an earnest wish, coupled with a hope, a very faint hope; a
hope so vague and indefinable that it seemed but the phantom of
one; that his guests would be suddenly seized with convulsions of
an aggravated character, and die on the spot, or jump out of the
window, or bolt up the chimney, or cut each other's throats, or melt
into air. He did not care what, or which, or how, or when, or where.
All his thoughts and wishes tended to one particular end; that was,
their abrupt departure, in some sudden and decisive manner. But
they evinced no disposition to avail themselves of either means of
getting out of his way, of which he left them so liberal a choice.
And to increase his misery, amidst them all sat Rust, with his head
bound in his red silk handkerchief, bowing and smirking, and passing
himself off as one of themselves; drawing out their secrets, and
quizzing old Rust, and occasionally casting on his clerk an eye
that seemed red-hot; cracking double-sided jokes, which made _them_
laugh, and took the skin off _him_; and calling him 'Ned,' and
asking why he was dull, and why he didn't make himself at home as
_he_ did; and whether he didn't think that old Rust would make 'a
flare up,' if he should happen to drop in; and why he didn't ask old
Rust to his dinners sometimes; and all in so pleasant a tone, that
the guests swore he was a diamond of the first water, and Mr. Sludge
hugged him on the spot.
Mr. Kornicker wondered if he was not dreaming; and whether Rust was
in reality there, and whether he himself was not sitting in front
of the fire sound asleep. It would be pleasant to wake up and find
it so; but no, it could not be; people in dreams didn't laugh like
these fellows. How _could_ they laugh as they did, when _he_ was in
such a state! How little they understood the game that was going
on! How they'd alter their tone, if they did! It was ridiculous;
it was exceedingly ridiculous. He ought to laugh; he felt that he
ought; but he wouldn't yet; the dinner was to come, and perhaps he
might _then_; he didn't know; he couldn't say; he'd see about it.
Hark! There was a thump against the wall below, and a jingling of
spoons, and knives and forks, against crockery. Now for it! Another
thump; another, accompanied by another jingle. He wondered whether
the boy had spilt the gravy. He hoped he hadn't; but supposed he
had. It made no difference. He wondered whether he'd brought the
brandy; supposed he had; of _course_ he had. It only wanted _that_
to damn him! and of course he would be d--d. He always had been,
and always would be; it was his luck. The person who was bringing
the dinner stumbled again; but he didn't fall. 'No such good luck!
If he had fallen, if he _only_ had fallen, and broke his neck, or
smashed the dinner, or any thing, to prevent his reaching that door;
but no; he was too sure-footed for that; any _other_ boy would have
done so; but _he_ didn't. He reached the door, and saluted it with
a hearty kick; at the same time informing the company that if they
were hungry, he rather guessed they'd better open it, as his hands
were full. Kornicker thought that _his_ hands were full too; and
even had a faint idea of laughing at this play upon words; but the
inclination passed off without his doing so. Michael Rust opened
the door, and the boy came in. Kornicker knew it. He neither looked
round nor moved; in fact, he closed his eyes; yet he _knew_ it--he
_felt_ it. He had an innate perception that the boy was there,
within three feet of him, bearing in his hands a large tray, with
dishes, and a brandy bottle on it. And now the clattering commenced;
and he was conscious that the boy was setting the table. What would
be the end of all this; what _could_ be? After all, Michael Rust
might be a jolly fellow, and he hadn't found it out; and perhaps
he wanted to make him at home, and keep up the joke, to save his
feelings. He would be glad to think so; but he didn't; no, no, he
was certain that there was some devil's play going on.'
The only person who seemed fully to appreciate his situation was
the boy from the refectory, who, with the instinct peculiar to boys
of that class, had detected it on the spot; and abruptly placing a
dish on the table, retired to a corner, with his face to the wall,
where he laughed violently in private. A warning look from Rust put
a stop to his mirth; nor did he again indulge it, until the table
being set, and being informed that the guests were not proud, and
could wait on themselves, he retreated to the entry, where he became
exceedingly hilarious.
'Come Ned, my boy, be seated,' said Rust, going up to Kornicker, and
slapping him on the shoulder. 'Wake up; you know we must be merry
sometimes; and when could there be a better opportunity than when
that old fool Rust is away? He'll never find it out. Oh, no; come,
come.'
Kornicker made a faint effort to decline; but a look from Rust
decided him, and he rose, went to the table, and mechanically seated
himself in the lap of Mr. Sludge, who reminded him that he was not
a chair, but that there was an article of that description vacant
at his side. Kornicker smiled feebly, bowed abstractedly, and took
a seat. He could not eat. He attempted to sip a little brandy, but
choked in swallowing it. The dinner, however, went on merrily. The
knives and forks clattered against the plates; the roast beef grew
smaller and smaller; the vegetables skipped down the throats of the
guests as if by magic; and the bottle knew no rest. In fact, the
only article on the table which stood its ground, was a sturdy old
Dutchman in a cocked-hat, who had been metamorphosed into a stone
pitcher; and sat there, with his stomach filled with cold water,
and his hands clasped over it. Lord! how merry they were! And as
the dinner went on, and the bottle grew low, and another was called
for by Rust, how uproarious they became! How they sang, and howled,
and hooted! What a din they created in the building! By degrees the
entry became filled with the 'desperadoes' from the upper stories,
who, attracted by doings kindred to their own, accumulated there
in a mass, and enlivened the performances, by howling through the
key-hole, and echoing all the other cries, from the bottom of their
lungs. But loudest and merriest, and as it appeared to Kornicker,
most diabolical of all, was Michael Rust; helping every one; passing
the bottle, and laughing, and yet constantly at work, endeavoring
to worm out of his companions something against Kornicker which
might render him amenable to the law, and which he might hold over
his head; a rod to bend him to his purposes, should he ever prove
refractory.