IS FULL OF PERILOUS ADVENTURES, AND IN WHICH, THE READER MAY BE ASSURED,
THERE IS MUCH MORE THAN MEETS THE EYE.
"Silence," said a voice that I well knew, although his face was
completely disguised. It was _Timothy_! "Silence, Japhet," again
whispered Timothy; "there is yet much danger, but I will save you or
die. Take the hammer. Melchior is waiting outside." Timothy put the
lantern in the bin, so as to render it more dark, and led me towards the
door, whispering, "When he comes in, we will secure him."
Melchior soon made his appearance; and as he entered the cellar, "Is it
all right?" said he, going up to Timothy and passing me.
With one blow I felled him to the ground, and he lay insensible. "That
will do," replied Timothy; "now we must be off."
"Not till he takes my place," replied I, as I shut the door and locked
it. "Now he may learn what it is to starve to death."
I then followed Timothy, by a passage which led outside of the castle,
through which he and his companion had been admitted. "Our horses are
close by," said Timothy; "for we stipulated upon leaving the country
after it was done."
It was just dark when we were safe out of the castle. We mounted our
horses, and set off with all speed. We followed the high road to the
post town to which I had been conveyed, and I determined to pull up at
Mrs McShane's, for I was so exhausted that I could go no further. This
was a measure which required precaution; and as there was moonlight, I
turned off the road before I entered the town, or village, as it ought
to have been called, so that we dismounted at the back of Mrs McShane's
house. I went to the window of the bed-room where I had lain down, and
tapped gently, again and again, and no answer. At last, Kathleen made
her appearance.
"Can I come in, Kathleen?" said I; "I am almost dead with fatigue and
exhaustion."
"Yes," replied she, "I will open the back-door; there is no one here
to-night--it is too early for them."
I entered, followed by Timothy, and, as I stepped over the threshold, I
fainted. As soon as I recovered, Mrs McShane led me up stairs into her
room for security, and I was soon able to take the refreshment I so much
required. I stated what had passed to Mrs McShane and Kathleen, who
were much shocked at the account.
"You had better wait till it is late, before you go on," said Mrs
McShane, "it will be more safe; it is now nine o'clock, and the people
will all be moving till eleven. I will give your horses some corn, and
when you are five miles from here, you may consider yourselves as safe.
Holy saints! what an escape!"
The advice was too good not to be followed; and I was so exhausted, that
I was glad that prudence was on the side of repose. I lay down on Mrs
McShane's bed, while Timothy watched over me. I had a short slumber,
and then was awakened by the good landlady, who told me that it was time
for us to quit. Kathleen then came up to me, and said, "I would ask a
favour of you, sir, and I hope you will not refuse it."
"Kathleen, you may ask anything of me, and depend upon it, I will not
refuse it, if I can grant it."
"Then, sir," replied the good girl, "you know how I overcame my feelings
to serve you, will you overcome yours for me? I cannot bear the idea
that anyone, bad as he may be, of the family who have reared me, should
perish in so miserable a manner; and I cannot bear that any man, bad as
he is, even if I did not feel obliged to to him, should die so full of
guilt, and without absolution. Will you let me have the key, that Sir
Henry de Clare may be released after you are safe and away? I know he
does not deserve any kindness from you; but it is a horrid death, and a
horrid thing to die so loaded with crime."
"Kathleen," replied I, "I will keep my word with you. Here is the key;
take it up to-morrow morning and give it to Lady de Clare; tell her
Japhet Newland sent it."
"I will, and God bless you, sir."
"Good-bye, sir," said Mrs McShane: "you have no time to lose."
"God bless you, sir," said Kathleen, who now put her arms round me, and
kissed me. We mounted our horses and set off.
We pressed our horses, or rather ponies, for they were very small, till
we had gained about six miles, when we considered that we were,
comparatively speaking, safe, and then drew up, to allow them to recover
their wind. I was very much exhausted myself, and hardly spoke one word
until we arrived at the next post town, when we found everybody in bed.
We contrived, however, to knock them up; and Timothy having seen that
our horses were put into the stable, we lay down till the next morning
upon a bed which happened to be unoccupied. Sorry as were the
accommodations, I never slept so soundly, and woke quite refreshed. The
next morning I stated my intention of posting to Dublin, and asked Tim
what we should do with the horses.
"They belong to the castle," replied he.
"Then in God's name, let the castle have them, for I wish for nothing
from that horrid place."
We stated to the landlord that the horses were to be sent back, and that
the man who took them would be paid for his trouble; and then it
occurred to me, that it would be a good opportunity of writing to
Melchior, _alias_ Sir Henry. I do not know why, but certainly my
animosity against him had subsided, and I did not think of taking legal
measures against him. I thought it, however, right to frighten him. I
wrote, therefore, as follows:--
"Sir Henry,--I send you back your horses with thanks, as they have
enabled Timothy and me to escape from your clutches. Your reputation
and your life now are in my power, and I will have ample revenge. The
fact of your intending murder, will be fully proved by my friend
Timothy, who was employed by you in disguise, and accompanied your
gipsy. You cannot escape the sentence of the law. Prepare yourself,
then, for the worst, as it is not my intention that you shall escape
the disgraceful punishment due to your crimes.
"Yours, Japhet Newland."
Having sealed this, and given it to the lad who was to return with the
horses, we finished our breakfast, and took a post-chaise on for Dublin,
where we arrived late in the evening. During our journey I requested
Timothy to narrate what had passed, and by what fortunate chance he had
been able to come so opportunely to my rescue.
"If you recollect, Japhet," replied Timothy, "you had received one or
two letters from me relative to the movements of the gipsy, and stating
his intention to carry off the little girl from the boarding-school. My
last letter, in which I had informed you that he had succeeded in
gaining an entrance into the ladies' school at Brentford, could not have
reached you, as I found by your note that you had set off the same
evening. The gipsy, whom I only knew by the name of _Will_, inquired of
me the name by which the little girl was known, and my answer was,
Smith; as I took it for granted that, in a large seminary, there must be
one, if not more, of that name. Acting upon this, he made inquiries of
the maid-servant to whom he paid his addresses, and made very handsome
presents, if there was a Miss Smith in the school; she replied, that
there were two, one a young lady of sixteen, and the other about twelve
years old. Of course the one selected was the younger. Will had seen
me in my livery, and his plan was to obtain a similar one, hire a
chariot, and go down to Brentford, with a request that Miss Smith might
be sent up with him immediately, as you were so ill that you were not
expected to live; but previous to his taking this step, he wrote to
Melchior, requesting his orders as to how he was to proceed when he had
obtained the child. The answer from Melchior arrived. By this time, he
had discovered that you were in Ireland, and intended to visit him;
perhaps he had you in confinement, for I do not know how long you were
there, but the answer desired Will to come over immediately, as there
would be in all probability work for him, that would be well paid for.
He had now become so intimate with me, that he disguised nothing: he
showed me the letter, and I asked him what it meant; he replied that
there was somebody to put out of the way, that was clear. It
immediately struck me, that you must be the person, if such was the
case, and I volunteered to go with him, to which, after some difficulty,
he consented. We travelled outside the mail, and in four days we
arrived at the castle. Will went up to Melchior, who told him what it
was that he required. Will consented, and then stated he had another
hand with him, which might be necessary, vouching for my doing anything
that was required. Melchior sent for me, and I certainly was afraid
that he would discover me, but my disguise was too good. I had prepared
for it still further, by wearing a wig of light hair: he asked me some
questions, and I replied in a surly, dogged tone, which satisfied him.
The reward was two hundred pounds, to be shared between us; and, as it
was considered advisable that we should not be seen after the affair was
over, by the people about the place, we had the horses provided for us.
The rest you well know. I was willing to make sure that it was you
before I struck the scoundrel, and the first glimpse from the lantern,
and your voice, convinced me. Thank God, Japhet, but I have been of
some use to you, at all events."
"My dear Tim, you have, indeed, and you know me too well, to think I
shall ever forget it; but now I must first ascertain where the will of
the late Sir William is to be found. We can read it for a shilling, and
then I may discover what are the grounds of Melchior's conduct, for, to
me, it is still inexplicable."
"Are wills made in Ireland registered here, or at Doctors' Commons in
London."
"In Dublin, I should imagine."
But on my arrival at Dublin I felt so ill, that I was obliged to retire
to bed, and before morning I was in a violent fever. Medical assistance
was sent for, and I was nursed by Timothy with the greatest care, but it
was ten days before I could quit my bed. For the first time, I was
sitting in an easy chair by the fire, when Timothy came in with the
little portmanteau I had left in the care of Mrs McShane. "Open it,
Timothy," said I, "and see if there be anything in the way of a note
from them." Timothy opened the portmanteau, and produced one, which was
lying on the top. It was from Kathleen, and as follows:--
"Dear Sir,--They say there is terrible work at the castle, and that
Sir Henry has blown out his brains, or cut his throat, I don't know
which. Mr McDermott passed in a great hurry, but said nothing to
anybody here. I will send you word of what has taken place as soon as
I can. The morning after you went away, I walked up to the castle and
gave the key to the lady, who appeared in a great fright at Sir Henry
not having been seen for so long a while. They wished to detain me
after they had found him in the cellar with the dead man, but after
two hours I was desired to go away, and hold my tongue. It was after
the horses went back that Sir Henry is said to have destroyed himself.
I went up to the castle, but McDermott had given orders for no one to
be let in on any account.
"Yours,
"Kathleen McShane."
"This is news, indeed," said I, handing the letter to Timothy. "It must
have been my threatening letter which has driven him to this mad act."
"Very likely," replied Timothy; "but it was the best thing the scoundrel
could do, after all."
"The letter was not, however, written, with that intention. I wished to
frighten him, and have justice done to little Fleta--poor child! how
glad I shall be to see her!"